By Marlene Cimons
When Swedish chemist and inventor of dynamite Alfred Nobel died in 1896, he left his considerable fortune to fund annual prizes given to individuals who had conferred "the greatest benefits" to humanity during the previous year. But his vision only included five fields deemed worthy of recognition at the time: chemistry, physics, physiology or medicine, literature and peace. Later, Sweden's central bank also created a sixth prize in economics in his memory.
Nobel wasn't prescient. He couldn't have foreseen the that climate change would become the defining crisis of future generations, one that would call on the courage, insight and ingenuity of our most brilliant scientists, inventors, advocates and political leaders. Helene and Raoul Costa, a French couple now living in Seattle, want to recognize achievements in climate change — and they think Alfred Nobel would have approved.
"When Nobel died on December 10th, 1896, climate change was not yet known nor comprehended," Helene said. "But today? We found ourselves asking: If Alfred Nobel had died today, would he have envisioned the creation of a climate prize the same way he wanted to honor the champions of peace? Knowing what we know today, it seems abundantly clear that the greatest benefit to humankind is the work being done to reverse this manmade climate change cycle. Without a Nobel prize dedicated to climate, we are missing a crucial opportunity."
To that end, the Costas have begun a global campaign to petition the Nobel Foundation to add a Nobel for climate action. They believe a climate Nobel would cast the carbon crisis as among the world's most pressing priorities, and it would reinvigorate the international dialogue on climate change. Thus far, nearly 30,000 people have signed. The Costas would like to reach 1 million. The petition has been translated into multiple languages, including English, Arabic, Spanish, Hebrew, Chinese, Russian and they are adding more.
The Costas see their process as similar to the establishment of the economics prize in 1968. At that time, the bank established and funded the prize with a onetime donation to the Nobel Foundation. The Costas aim to raise as much as $40 million in contributions to fund a climate prize. They hope this will be enough, suggesting that "at some point in the future the climate prize will cease to be awarded because we solved the issue."
For now, having a climate prize "would solidify the importance and extreme urgency of climate action," Helene said. "The Nobel Foundation has the power to bring the focus of the conversation on actions, discoveries and initiatives which are making a difference in tackling climate change."
Kruss Mabonga, a graphic designer and part-time music teacher, who has worked for the climate advocacy group 350.org, recently joined the climate Nobel campaign as the lead organizer in Africa.
"I loved the fact that an ordinary person, would come up with an idea that can cause waves in the climate change advocacy," he said. "It's sad that people passionate about climate and environment are treated as mere 'activists.' I strongly believe that if these sets of people are recognized and commended for their passion for the environment, the conversation about climate change will definitely take a new course. I signed the petition and am voluntarily dedicated to mobilize masses to sign it, too."
To date, the closest thing to a climate Nobel is the Tyler Prize for Environmental Achievement, this year awarded to two pioneering climate scientists, Warren Washington and Michael Mann. When asked about establishing a new Nobel geared toward climate change, Washington endorsed it. "I think it would be a good idea to honor people who've taken significant actions," he said. "Climate change wasn't an issue when most of these prizes were set up, and I think they should update themselves."
To be sure, the Nobels have acknowledged climate change in the recent past, but these were not action-oriented. A new Nobel for climate would differ from the peace prize awarded former Vice President Al Gore in 2007 — shared with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change — and the economics prize won by American economist William Nordhaus in 2018 for his work integrating climate change into macroeconomic analysis.
"There is only so much focus the Nobel Committees can put on climate change within the current six disciplines," Helene said. "Having a dedicated prize on climate change would keep it a priority every year. It would reward those who, through exemplary actions or groundbreaking discoveries, are doing the most or best to tackle climate change through mitigation of emissions, removal of past emissions now in the atmosphere or adaptation. Hope without action is wishful thinking."
Their idea took shape a few days after she and her husband read the latest UN report on climate change, released in October, which portrayed a grim future if humans don't radically cut emissions. Helene, 35, was no stranger to climate change. She had worked as a carbon market officer for the Directorate for Energy and Climate Change in France, including as an expert for the French negotiating team at UN climate negotiations, including at the Copenhagen conference in 2009, which famously ended in failure. Still, the latest report blindsided her.
"I was in shock," she said. "I thought myself educated on climate change issues. The reality check was hard. That was a wake-up call for us. We thought we were doing a great job in how we were keeping our family carbon footprint in check, but we were wrong. We realized we had to commit and do more. Because if we were to give up, what would be next? What would be next for our two kids? No kids on earth deserve the future which we are cooking for them."
So she and Raoul, 36, who works for Amazon, started talking about how they could ramp up their own efforts. "At the end of our dinner, we had to switch topics as the mood was becoming very gloom, so we switched to the Nobel Prizes as they were announced the same week," she said. "Having those two conversations back-to-back was really serendipitous, and that's how we connected the dots."
As a family, the Costas have been carbon neutral for several years. "Every year, using carbon footprint calculators, we buy carbon credits to offset our remaining emissions, whose bulk comes from transport and heating," she said. "We also committed to reduce our carbon footprint by buying previously owned items ranging from our laptops to our furniture, prioritizing public transit, changing our light bulbs and by transitioning to a plant-based diet."
However, "the framework to record our goals was quite loose, and as parents of young kids it is easy to lose track of things," she added. "So in October, we decided to make our family climate roadmap systematic. We set a goal of becoming a zero-emission household by 2030 and designed a roadmap to map out the milestones necessary to reach the goal, organized by categories like 'food,' 'housing,' 'transportation,' 'goods,' etc." For example, this year they decided to eat red meat only once a month, and white meat and fish but once a week. They shop zero-packaging for all their grains, fruits and vegetables. In "housing," they have lowered their thermostats and plan to finish insulating their home.
"We do not have alternatives but to act. There is a lot we can do as individuals to reduce our carbon footprint right away," she said. "Starting the journey by taking small steps switches your mindset to 'action mode' and once you have taken the first step, the second one is much easier." A high profile vehicle such as a climate action-dedicated Nobel would further enhance public awareness, and in a positive way, she said, adding, "The prestige of the prize will raise the profiles of the climate laureates, and anchor climate actions as a goal worthy of the highest distinctions."
Reposted with permission from our media associate Nexus Media.
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Though made in large part of plastic, glass, ceramics, gold and copper, they also contain critical resources. The gallium used for LEDs and the camera flash, the tantalum in capacitors and indium that powers the display were all pulled from the ground — at a price for nature and people.
"Mining raw materials is always problematic, both with regard to human rights and ecology," said Melanie Müller, raw materials expert of the German think tank SWP. "Their production process is pretty toxic."
The gallium and indium in many phones comes from China or South Korea, the tantalum from the Democratic Republic of Congo or Rwanda. All in, such materials comprise less than ten grams of a phone's weight. But these grams finance an international mining industry that causes radioactive earth dumps, poisoned groundwater and Indigenous population displacement.
Environmental Damage: 'Nature Has Been Overexploited'
The problem is that modern technologies don't work without what are known as critical raw materials. Collectively, solar panels, drones, 3D printers and smartphone contain as many as 30 of these different elements sourced from around the globe. A prime example is lithium from Chile, which is essential in the manufacture of batteries for electric vehicles.
"No one, not even within the industry, would deny that mining lithium causes enormous environmental damage," Müller explained, in reference to the artificial lakes companies create when flushing the metal out of underground brine reservoirs. "The process uses vast amounts of water, so you end up with these huge flooded areas where the lithium settles."
This means of extraction results in the destruction and contamination of the natural water system. Unique plants and animals lose access to groundwater and watering holes. There have also been reports of freshwater becoming salinated due to extensive acidic waste water during lithium mining.
But lithium is not the only raw material that causes damage. Securing just one ton of rare earth elements produces 2,000 tons of toxic waste, and has devastated large regions of China, said Günther Hilpert, head of the Asia Research Division of the German think tank SWP.
He says companies there have adopted a process of spraying acid over the mining areas in order to separate the rare earths from other ores, and that mined areas are often abandoned after excavation.
"They are no longer viable for agricultural use," Hilpert said. "Nature has been overexploited."
China is not the only country with low environmental mining standards and poor resource governance. In Madagascar, for example, a thriving illegal gem and metal mining sector has been linked to rainforest depletion and destruction of natural lemur habitats.
States like Madagascar, Rwanda and the DRC score poorly on the Environmental Performance Index that ranks 180 countries for their effort on factors including conservation, air quality, waste management and emissions. Environmentalists are therefore particularly concerned that these countries are mining highly toxic materials like beryllium, tantalum and cobalt.
But it is not only nature that suffers from the extraction of high-demand critical raw materials.
"It is a dirty, toxic, partly radioactive industry," Hilpert said. "China, for example, has never really cared about human rights when it comes to achieving production targets."
Dirty, Toxic, Radioactive: Working in the Mining Sector
One of the most extreme examples is Baotou, a Chinese city in Inner Mongolia, where rare earth mining poisoned surrounding farms and nearby villages, causing thousands of people to leave the area.
In 2012, The Guardian described a toxic lake created in conjunction with rare earth mining as "a murky expanse of water, in which no fish or algae can survive. The shore is coated with a black crust, so thick you can walk on it. Into this huge, 10 sq km tailings pond nearby factories discharge water loaded with chemicals used to process the 17 most sought after minerals in the world."
Local residents reported health issues including aching legs, diabetes, osteoporosis and chest problems, The Guardian wrote.
South Africa has also been held up for turning a blind eye to the health impacts of mining.
"The platinum sector in South Africa has been criticized for performing very poorly on human rights — even within the raw materials sector," Müller said.
In 2012, security forces killed 34 miners who had been protesting poor working conditions and low wages at a mine owned by the British company Lonmin. What became known as the "Marikana massacre" triggered several spontaneous strikes across the country's mining sector.
Müller says miners can still face exposure to acid drainage — a frequent byproduct of platinum mining — that can cause chemical burns and severe lung damage. Though this can be prevented by a careful waste system.
Some progress was made in 2016 when the South African government announced plans to make mining companies pay $800 million (€679 million) for recycling acid mine water. But they didn't all comply. In 2020, activists sued Australian-owned mining company Mintails and the government to cover the cost of environmental cleanup.
Another massive issue around mining is water consumption. Since the extraction of critical raw materials is very water intensive, drought prone countries such as South Africa, have witnessed an increase in conflicts over supply.
For years, industry, government and the South African public debated – without a clear agreement – whether companies should get privileged access to water and how much the population may suffer from shortages.
Mining in Brazil: Replacing Nature, People, Land Rights
Beyond the direct health and environmental impact of mining toxic substances, quarrying critical raw materials destroys livelihoods, as developments in Brazil demonstrate.
"Brazil is the major worldwide niobium producer and reserves in [the state of] Minas Gerais would last more than 200 years [at the current rate of demand]," said Juliana Siqueira-Gay, environmental engineer and Ph.D. student at the University of São Paulo.
While the overall number of niobium mining requests is stagnating, the share of claims for Indigenous land has skyrocketed from 3 to 36 percent within one year. If granted, 23 percent of the Amazon forest and the homeland of 222 Indigenous groups could fall victim to deforestation in the name of mining, a study by Siqueira-Gay finds.
In early 2020, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro signed a bill which would allow corporations to develop areas populated by Indigenous communities in the future. The law has not yet entered into force, but "this policy could have long-lasting negative effects on Brazil's socio-biodiversity," said Siqueira-Gay.
One example are the niobium reserves in Seis Lagos, in Brazil's northeast, which could be quarried to build electrolytic capacitors for smartphones.
"They overlap the Balaio Indigenous land and it would cause major impacts in Indigenous communities by clearing forests responsible for providing food, raw materials and regulating the local climate," Siqueira-Gay explained.
She says scientific good practice guidelines offer a blueprint for sustainable mining that adheres to human rights and protects forests. Quarries in South America — and especially Brazil — funded by multilaterial banks like the International Finance Corporation of the World Bank Group have to follow these guidelines, Siqueira-Gay said.
They force companies to develop sustainable water supply, minimize acid exposure and re-vegetate mined surfaces. "First, negative impacts must be avoided, then minimized and at last compensated — not the other way around."
Reposted with permission from DW.