Air Pollution Activity

“There’s No Such Thing as Sound Science” by By Christie Aschwanden was a lead science writer for FiveThirtyEight. FiveThirtyEight, Science, Dec. 6, 2017 Science is being turned against itself. For decades, its twin ideals of transparency and rigor have been weaponized by those who disagree with results produced by the scientific method. Under the Trump administration, that fight has ramped up again. In a move ostensibly meant to reduce conflicts of interest, Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Scott Pruitt has removed a number of scientists from advisory panels and replaced some of them with representatives from industries that the agency regulates. Like many in the Trump administration, Pruitt has also cast doubt on the reliability of climate science. For instance, in an interview with CNBC, Pruitt said that “measuring with precision human activity on the climate is something very challenging to do.” Similarly, Trump’s pick to head NASA, an agency that oversees a large portion the nation’s climate research, has insisted that research into human influence on climate lacks certainty, and he falsely claimed that “global temperatures stopped rising 10 years ago.” Kathleen Hartnett White, Trump’s nominee to head the White House Council on Environmental Quality, said in a Senate hearing last month that she thinks we “need to have more precise explanations of the human role and the natural role” in climate change. The same entreaties crop up again and again: We need to root out conflicts. We need more precise evidence. What makes these arguments so powerful is that they sound quite similar to the points raised by proponents of a very different call for change that’s coming from within science. This other movement strives to produce more robust, reproducible findings. Despite having dissimilar goals, the two forces espouse principles that look surprisingly alike: Science needs to be transparent. Results and methods should be openly shared so that outside researchers can independently reproduce and validate them. The methods used to collect and analyze data should be rigorous and clear, and conclusions must be supported by evidence. These are the arguments underlying an “open science” reform movement that was created, in part, as a response to a “reproducibility crisis” that has struck some fields of science.1 But they’re also used as talking points by politicians who are working to make it more difficult for the EPA and other federal agencies to use science in their regulatory decision-making, under the guise of basing policy on “sound science.” Science’s virtues are being wielded against it. What distinguishes the two calls for transparency is intent: Whereas the “open science” movement aims to make science more reliable, reproducible and robust, proponents of “sound science” have historically worked to amplify uncertainty, create doubt and undermine scientific discoveries that threaten their interests. “Our criticisms are founded in a confidence in science,” said Steven Goodman, co-director of the Meta-Research Innovation Center at Stanford and a proponent of open science. “That’s a fundamental difference — we’re critiquing science to make it better. Others are critiquing it to devalue the approach itself.” Calls to base public policy on “sound science” seem unassailable if you don’t know the term’s history. The phrase was adopted by the tobacco industry in the 1990s to counteract mounting evidence linking secondhand smoke to cancer. A 1992 Environmental Protection Agency report identified secondhand smoke as a human carcinogen, and Philip Morris responded by launching an initiative to promote what it called “sound science.” In an internal memo, Philip Morris vice president of corporate affairs Ellen Merlo wrote that the program was designed to “discredit the EPA report,” “prevent states and cities, as well as businesses from passing smoking bans” and “proactively” pass legislation to help their cause. The sound science tactic exploits a fundamental feature of the scientific process: Science does not produce absolute certainty. Contrary to how it’s sometimes represented to the public, science is not a magic wand that turns everything it touches to truth. Instead, it’s a process of uncertainty reduction, much like a game of 20 Questions. Any given study can rarely answer more than one question at a time, and each study usually raises a bunch of new questions in the process of answering old ones. “Science is a process rather than an answer,” said psychologist Alison Ledgerwood of the University of California, Davis. Every answer is provisional and subject to change in the face of new evidence. It’s not entirely correct to say that “this study proves this fact,” Ledgerwood said. “We should be talking instead about how science increases or decreases our confidence in something.” The tobacco industry’s brilliant tactic was to turn this baked-in uncertainty against the scientific enterprise itself. While insisting that they merely wanted to ensure that public policy was based on sound science, tobacco companies defined the term in a way that ensured that no science could ever be sound enough. The only sound science was certain science, which is an impossible standard to achieve. “Doubt is our product,” wrote one employee of the Brown & Williamson tobacco company in a 1969 internal memo. The note went on to say that doubt “is the best means of competing with the ‘body of fact’” and “establishing a controversy.” These strategies for undermining inconvenient science were so effective that they’ve served as a sort of playbook for industry interests ever since, said Stanford University science historian Robert Proctor. The sound science push is no longer just Philip Morris sowing doubt about the links between cigarettes and cancer. It’s also a 1998 action plan by the American Petroleum Institute, Chevron and Exxon Mobil to “install uncertainty” about the link between greenhouse gas emissions and climate change. It’s industry-funded groups’ late-1990s effort to question the science the EPA was using to set fine-particle-pollution air-quality standards that the industry didn’t want. And then there was the more recent effort by Dow Chemical to insist on more scientific certainty before banning a pesticide that the EPA’s scientists had deemed risky to children. Now comes a move by the Trump administration’s EPA to repeal a 2015 rule on wetlands protection by disregarding particular studies. (To name just a few examples.) Doubt merchants aren’t pushing for knowledge, they’re practicing what Proctor has dubbed “agnogenesis” — the intentional manufacture of ignorance. This ignorance isn’t simply the absence of knowing something; it’s a lack of comprehension deliberately created by agents who don’t want you to know, Proctor said.2 In the hands of doubt-makers, transparency becomes a rhetorical move. “It’s really difficult as a scientist or policy maker to make a stand against transparency and openness, because well, who would be against it?” said Karen Levy, researcher on information science at Cornell University. But at the same time, “you can couch everything in the language of transparency and it becomes a powerful weapon.” For instance, when the EPA was preparing to set new limits on particulate pollution in the 1990s, industry groups pushed back against the research and demanded access to primary data (including records that researchers had promised participants would remain confidential) and a reanalysis of the evidence. Their calls succeeded and a new analysis was performed. The reanalysis essentially confirmed the original conclusions, but the process of conducting it delayed the implementation of regulations and cost researchers time and money. Delay is a time-tested strategy. “Gridlock is the greatest friend a global warming skeptic has,” said Marc Morano, a prominent critic of global warming research and the executive director of ClimateDepot.com, in the documentary “Merchants of Doubt” (based on the book by the same name). Morano’s site is a project of the Committee for a Constructive Tomorrow, which has received funding from the oil and gas industry. “We’re the negative force. We’re just trying to stop stuff.” Some of these ploys are getting a fresh boost from Congress. The Data Quality Act (also known as the Information Quality Act) was reportedly written by an industry lobbyist and quietly passed as part of an appropriations bill in 2000. The rule mandates that federal agencies ensure the “quality, objectivity, utility, and integrity of information” that they disseminate, though it does little to define what these terms mean. The law also provides a mechanism for citizens and groups to challenge information that they deem inaccurate, including science that they disagree with. “It was passed in this very quiet way with no explicit debate about it — that should tell you a lot about the real goals,” Levy said. But what’s most telling about the Data Quality Act is how it’s been used, Levy said. A 2004 Washington Post analysis found that in the 20 months following its implementation, the act was repeatedly used by industry groups to push back against proposed regulations and bog down the decision-making process. Instead of deploying transparency as a fundamental principle that applies to all science, these interests have used transparency as a weapon to attack very particular findings that they would like to eradicate. Now Congress is considering another way to legislate how science is used. The Honest Act, a bill sponsored by Rep. Lamar Smith of Texas,3 is another example of what Levy calls a “Trojan horse” law that uses the language of transparency as a cover to achieve other political goals. Smith’s legislation would severely limit the kind of evidence the EPA could use for decision-making. Only studies whose raw data and computer codes were publicly available would be allowed for consideration. That might sound perfectly reasonable, and in many cases it is, Goodman said. But sometimes there are good reasons why researchers can’t conform to these rules, like when the data contains confidential or sensitive medical information.4 Critics, which include more than a dozen scientific organizations, argue that, in practice, the rules would prevent many studies from being considered in EPA reviews.5 It might seem like an easy task to sort good science from bad, but in reality it’s not so simple. “There’s a misplaced idea that we can definitively distinguish the good from the not-good science, but it’s all a matter of degree,” said Brian Nosek, executive director of the Center for Open Science. “There is no perfect study.” Requiring regulators to wait until they have (nonexistent) perfect evidence is essentially “a way of saying, ‘We don’t want to use evidence for our decision-making,’” Nosek said. Most scientific controversies aren’t about science at all, and once the sides are drawn, more data is unlikely to bring opponents into agreement. Michael Carolan, who researches the sociology of technology and scientific knowledge at Colorado State University, wrote in a 2008 paper about why objective knowledge is not enough to resolve environmental controversies. “While these controversies may appear on the surface to rest on disputed questions of fact, beneath often reside differing positions of value; values that can give shape to differing understandings of what ‘the facts’ are.” What’s needed in these cases isn’t more or better science, but mechanisms to bring those hidden values to the forefront of the discussion so that they can be debated transparently. “As long as we continue down this unabashedly naive road about what science is, and what it is capable of doing, we will continue to fail to reach any sort of meaningful consensus on these matters,” Carolan writes. The dispute over tobacco was never about the science of cigarettes’ link to cancer. It was about whether companies have the right to sell dangerous products and, if so, what obligations they have to the consumers who purchased them. Similarly, the debate over climate change isn’t about whether our planet is heating, but about how much responsibility each country and person bears for stopping it. While researching her book “Merchants of Doubt,” science historian Naomi Oreskes found that some of the same people who were defending the tobacco industry as scientific experts were also receiving industry money to deny the role of human activity in global warming. What these issues had in common, she realized, was that they all involved the need for government action. “None of this is about the science. All of this is a political debate about the role of government,” she said in the documentary. These controversies are really about values, not scientific facts, and acknowledging that would allow us to have more truthful and productive debates. What would that look like in practice? Instead of cherry-picking evidence to support a particular view (and insisting that the science points to a desired action), the various sides could lay out the values they are using to assess the evidence. For instance, in Europe, many decisions are guided by the precautionary principle — a system that values caution in the face of uncertainty and says that when the risks are unclear, it should be up to industries to show that their products and processes are not harmful, rather than requiring the government to prove that they are harmful before they can be regulated. By contrast, U.S. agencies tend to wait for strong evidence of harm before issuing regulations. Both approaches have critics, but the difference between them comes down to priorities: Is it better to exercise caution at the risk of burdening companies and perhaps the economy, or is it more important to avoid potential economic downsides even if it means that sometimes a harmful product or industrial process goes unregulated? In other words, under what circumstances do we agree to act on a risk? How certain do we need to be that the risk is real, and how many people would need to be at risk, and how costly is it to reduce that risk? Those are moral questions, not scientific ones, and openly discussing and identifying these kinds of judgment calls would lead to a more honest debate. Science matters, and we need to do it as rigorously as possible. But science can’t tell us how risky is too risky to allow products like cigarettes or potentially harmful pesticides to be sold — those are value judgements that only humans can make.

Weathering and People Weathering is a natural process, but human activities can speed it up. For example, certain kinds of air pollution increase the rate of weathering Burning coal, natural and petroleum releases chemicals such as nitrogen oxide and gas, sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere. When these chemicals combine with sunlight and moisture, they change into acids. They then fall back to Earth as acid rain. Acid rain rapidly weathers limestone, marble, and other kinds of stone. The effects of acid rain can often be seen on gravestones, making names and other inscriptions impossible to read. Acid rain has also damaged many historic buildings and monuments. For example, at 71 meters (233 feet) tall, the Leshan Giant Buddha at Mount Emei, China is the world's largest statue of the Buddha. It was carved 1,300 years ago and sat unharmed for centuries. An innovative drainage system mitigates the natural process of erosion But in recent years, acid rain has turned the statue's nose black and made some of its hair crumble and fall.

CARBON FOOTPRINT A carbon footprint is the total amount of CO₂ produced by human activities. It also includes the emissions of other greenhouse gases. Although calculating your carbon footprint can be difficult, you can still estimate it based on how big your family is, how much electricity your appliances use, how much you drive or fly, or how much you recycle. Globally, the average carbon footprint per person is more than 4 tons per year. Too much CO₂ in the Earth’s atmosphere can cause serious problems. It can lead to increasing global temperatures and air pollution, and destroy the natural world. It’s not difficult to reduce your carbon footprint. You can do it by making your daily activities eco-friendly. For example, you can take shorter showers. The less hot water you use, the less energy is needed to heat the water. Instead of using your personal car or motorbike, you should use public transport, walk, or cycle as much as possible. These simple activities can help reduce your carbon footprint and your impact on the environment.

Weathering describes the breaking down or dissolving of rocks and minerals on the surface of the Earth. Water, ice, acids, salts, plants, animals, and changes in temperature are all agents of weathering. Once a rock has been broken down, a process called erosion transports the bits of rock and mineral away. No rock on Earth is hard enough to resist the forces of weathering and erosion. Together, these processes carved landmarks such as the Grand Canyon, in the U.S. state of Arizona. This massive canyon is 446 kilometers (277 miles) long, as much as 29 kilometers (18 miles) wide, and 1,600 meters (1 mile) deep. Weathering and erosion constantly change the rocky landscape of Earth. Weathering wears away exposed surfaces over time. The length of exposure often contributes to how vulnerable a rock is to weathering. Rocks, such as lavas, that are quickly buried beneath other rocks are less vulnerable to weathering and erosion than rocks that are exposed to agents such as wind and water, As it smoothes rough, sharp rock surfaces, weathering is often the first step in the production of soils. Tiny bits of weathered minerals mix with plants, animal remains, fungi, bacteria, and other organisms. A single type of weathered rock often produces infertile soil, while weathered materials from a collection of rocks is richer in mineral diversity and contributes to more fertile soil. Soils types associated with a mixture of weathered rock include glacial till, loess, and alluvial sediments. Weathering is often divided into the processes of mechanical weathering and chemical weathering. Biological weathering, in whichliving or once-living organisms contribute to weathering, can be a part of both processes. Mechanical Weathering Mechanical weathering, also called physical weathering and disaggregation, causes rocks to crumble. Water, in either liquid or solid form, is often a key agent of mechanical weathering. For instance, liquid water can seep into cracks and crevices in rock. If temperatures drop low enough, the water will freeze. When water freezes, it expands. The ice then works as a wedge. It slowly widens the cracks and splits the rock. When ice melts, liquid water performs the act of erosion by carrying away the tiny rock fragments lost in the split. This specific process (the freeze-thaw cycle) is called frost weathering or cryofracturing. Figure 4.3 Frost Wedging Temperature changes can also contribute to mechanical weathering in a process called thermal stress. Changes in temperature cause rock to expand (with heat) and contract (with cold). As this happens over and over again. the structure of the rock weakens. Over time, it crumbles. Rocky desert landscapes are particularly vulnerable to thermal stress. The outer layer of desert rocks undergo repeated stress as the temperature changes from day Eventually, Lo outer night. layersflake off in thin sheets, a process called exfoliation. Exfoliation contributes to the formation of bornhardts, one of the most dramatic features in landscapes formed by weathering and erosion. Bornhardts are tall, domed, isolated rocks often found areas. in tropical Sugarloaf Mountain, an iconic landmark in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, is bornhardt. a Salt also works to weather rock in a process called haloclasty. Saltwater sometimes gets into the cracks and pores of rock. If the saltwater evaporates, salt crystals are left behind. As the crystals grow, they put pressure on the rock, slowly breaking it apart. Plants and animals can be agents of mechanical weathering. The seed of a tree may sprout in soil that has collected in a cracked rock. As the roots grow, they widen the cracks, eventually breaking the rock into pieces. Over time, trees can break apart even large rocks. Even small plants, such as mosses, can enlarge tiny cracks as they grow. Animals that tunnel underground, such as moles and prairie dogs, also work to break apart rock and soil. Other animals dig and trample rock aboveground, causing rock to slowly crumble. Chemical Weathering Chemical weathering changes the molecular structure of rocks and soil.For instance, carbon dioxide from the air or soil sometimes combines with water in a process called carbonation. This produces a weak acid, called carbonic acid, that can dissolve rock. Carbonic acid is especially effective at dissolving limestone. When carbonic acid seeps through limestone underground, it can open up huge cracks or hollow out vast networks of caves. Carlsbad Caverns National Park, in the U.S. state of New Mexico, includes more than 119 limestone caves created by weathering and erosion. The largest is called the Big Room.. With an area of about 33,210 square meters (357,469 square feet), the Big Room is the size of six football fields. Another type of chemical weathering works on rocks that contain iron. These rocks turn to rust in a process called oxidation. Rust is a compound created by the interaction of oxygen and iron in the presence of water. As rust expands, it weakens rock and helps break it apart. Another familiar form of chemical weathering is hydrolysis. In the process of hydrolysis, a new solution (a mixture of two or more substances) is formed as chemicals in rock interact with water. In many rocks, for example, sodium minerals interact with water to form a saltwater solution. Hydration and hydrolysis contribute to flared slopes, another dramatic example of a landscape formed by weathering and erosion. Flared slopes are sometimes nicknamed "wave rocks." Their c-shape is largely concave rock formations a result of subsurface weathering, in which hydration and hydrolysis wear away rocks beneath the landscape's surfaceWeathering and People Weathering is a natural process, but human activities can speed it up. For example, certain kinds of air pollution increase the rate of weathering Burning coal, natural and petroleum releases chemicals such as nitrogen oxide and gas, sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere. When these chemicals combine with sunlight and moisture, they change into acids. They then fall back to Earth as acid rain. Acid rain rapidly weathers limestone, marble, and other kinds of stone. The effects of acid rain can often be seen on gravestones, making names and other inscriptions impossible to read. Acid rain has also damaged many historic buildings and monuments. For example, at 71 meters (233 feet) tall, the Leshan Giant Buddha at Mount Emei, China is the world's largest statue of the Buddha. It was carved 1,300 years ago and sat unharmed for centuries. An innovative drainage system mitigates the natural process of erosion But in recent years, acid rain has turned the statue's nose black and made some of its hair crumble and fall.

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