From climate change to COVID-19, even the clearest warnings from scientists can misfire with millions of Americans. Pop culture may be a big reason why.
The music video for Thomas Dolby's quirky, synthesizer-driven 1980's hit featured a possibly deranged codger in a lab coat waving an index finger and rhythmically shouting "SCIENCE!"
For many of us, he fits the profile of a career scientist as a misfit, an oddball, with either a benignly vacant attitude or a downright divorce from civil society.
Let's put an exclamation point on this: Magnus Pyke, the unhinged chap in the video, isn't an actor, he's a nutritional scientist who carved out a useful second career as a science explainer on British TV. Because, well, you know, he looked so science-y.
Bill Nye plays Dr. Pyke's role in the U.S. and elsewhere. His carefully honed character is built on owlish eyebrows, wide-eyed enthusiasm for decidedly nerdish things, and the omnipresent bowtie that shouts "nerd" whether it's worn by Nye, Pee Wee Herman, or Louis Farrakhan.
Nye knows his stuff and earns his "Science Guy" branding, even though his formal education stopped with a Bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering.
Dr. Pyke and Mr. Nye are hardly the first pop culture science avatars.
Mary Shelley's Dr. Viktor Frankenstein first hit print in 1818. He, of course, is the patron saint of an important subspecies, the Evil Scientist. To follow were a legion of evil scientists, from Peter Sellers's Doctor Strangelove to Hitler's real life evil scientist, Dr. Mengele, ably portrayed by Gregory Peck in The Boys from Brazil.
Their genetic cousins are all-around Evil Geniuses like Ming the Merciless from the wildly popular 1930's Buck Rodgers shorts to Doctor Evil, who as Austin Powers's nemesis in three movies attended "six years of evil medical school."
Another important aberrant science brand includes the more benign science nerds—blissfully detached from mainstream society. Arguably the most successful run belongs to The Big Bang Theory, which ended its 12 years on CBS last year and entered the lucrative world of re-run syndication. The show's ensemble cast consists of Central Casting geeks with bad haircuts and a penchant for Comicon.
Honorable mentions in this category go to The Nutty Professor, played by a buck-toothed, oblivious Jerry Lewis in a 1963 film. Professor Julius Kelp prepares a lab potion that turns him into the smooth, suave womanizing Buddy Love. In a 1996 remake, Eddie Murphy plays a morbidly obese prof named Sherman Klump, who sheds more than half his weight to morph into Buddy Love. Back to the Future gave us the disheveled, reclusive Doc Brown.
Of course, no list of pop culture science nerds is complete without mentioning Star Trek's Mister Spock, whose home planet is populated by a race for whom logic is paramount, smiling is frowned upon, and the biological urge to reproduce comes once every seven years.
There are inevitable exceptions, like the swashbuckling Ph.D. anthropologist Indiana Jones. But it should be no surprise that pop culture routinely assigns Freaks-and-Geeks status to scientists.
When these social misfits—the ones who sat out the senior prom and got roughed up in gym class—tell us we need to stay inside for months on end, or dramatically alter our fossil fuel-based lifestyles, many of us rebel.
When anti-intellectual rebels are enabled by the mad tweets of a president who regards all manner of science advice as suspect or hoax-worthy, that rebellion becomes very hard to undo.
In the spirit of saving the best for last, my all-time favorite pop culture scientist who advanced the cause of nerdery would have to be The Professor from Gilligan's Island.
If this cheesy 1960's sitcom were revived today, The Professor (Russell Johnson) would be issuing frantic warnings to his six fellow castaways about how their uncharted desert isle was threatened by sea level rise; Mr. Howell, the let-them-eat-cake gazillionaire, would fund a disinformation campaign to discredit him, and the other five, bless their hearts, would remain in denial since their only source of news and information was an AM radio.
Life imitates art. But art, even in the lowbrow framework of Gilligan's Island, can corrupt life.
Peter Dykstra is our weekend editor and columnist. His views do not necessarily represent those of Environmental Health News, The Daily Climate or publisher, Environmental Health Sciences.
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency is set to introduce a series of new regulations aimed at reducing pollutants from America's power plants as part of a comprehensive environmental strategy.
The Biden administration is poised to announce up to four new EPA regulations targeting emissions and waste from fossil-fuel power plants.
These rules aim to address carbon emissions, air toxics, and waste from coal and gas-fired plants, with some still under review by the Office of Management and Budget.
The initiative is part of a broader strategy to provide regulatory certainty and address environmental concerns before a critical policy deadline.
Why this matters:
As awareness of climate change grows and the imperative to mitigate its effects becomes increasingly urgent, there's mounting pressure on regulatory agencies like the EPA to take decisive action.
CAMERON PARISH, La. — Late into the night, John Allaire watches the facility next to his home shoot 300-foot flares from stacks.
He lives within eyesight of southwest Louisiana’s salty shores, where, for decades, he’s witnessed nearly 200 feet of land between it and his property line disappear into the sea. Two-thirds of the land was rebuilt to aid the oil and gas industry’s LNG expansion. LNG — shorthand for liquified natural gas – is natural gas that's cooled to liquid form for easier storage or transport; it equates to 1/600th the volume of natural gas in a gaseous state. It’s used to generate electricity, or fuel stove tops and home heaters, and in industrial processes like manufacturing fertilizer.
In the U.S., at least 30 new LNG terminal facilities have been constructed or proposed since 2016, according to the
Oil and Gas Watch project. Louisiana and Texas’ Gulf Coast, where five facilities are already operating, will host roughly two-thirds of the new LNG terminals – meaning at least 22 Gulf Coast LNG facilities are currently under construction, were recently approved to break ground or are under further regulatory review.
Although the U.S. didn’t ship LNG until 2016, when a freight tanker left, a few miles from where Cameron Parish’s LNG plants are today, last year the country became the global leader in LNG production and export volume, leapfrogging exporters like Qatar and Australia. The
EIA’s most recent annual outlook estimated that between the current year and 2050, U.S. LNG exports will increase by 152%.
Allaire, 68, watches how saltwater collects where rainwater once fed the area’s diminishing coastal wetlands. “We still come down here with the kids and set out the fishing rods. It's not as nice as it used to be,” he told
Environmental Health News (EHN).
That intimacy with nature drew Allaire to the area when he purchased 311 acres in 1998. An environmental engineer and 30-year oil and gas industry veteran, he helped lead environmental assessments and manage clean-ups, and although retired, he still works part-time as an environmental consultant with major petroleum companies. With a lifetime of oil and gas industry expertise, he’s watched the industry's footprint spread across Louisiana and the Gulf of Mexico’s fragile shores and beyond. Now that the footprints are at the edge of his backyard, Allaire is among a cohort of organizers, residents and fisher-folk in the region mobilizing to stop LNG facility construction. For him, the industry’s expansion usurps the right-or-wrong ethics he carried across his consulting career. For anglers, oil and gas infrastructure has destroyed fishing grounds and prevented smaller vessels from accessing the seafood-rich waters of the Calcasieu River.
From the view of Allaire’s white pickup truck as he drives across his property to the ocean’s shore, he points to where a new LNG facility will replace marshlands. Commonwealth LNG intends to clear the land of trees and then backfill the remaining low-lying field.
“You see what’s happening with the environment,” Allaire said. “When the facts change, I got to change my mind about what we’re doing.”
Community bands together
John Allaire, left, purchased 311 acres in Cameron Parish in 1998, and has watched the oil and gas industry's footprint spread to his property.
Credit: John Allaire
During an Earth Day rally in April, community members gathered in the urban center of Lake Charles to demand local oil and gas industries help deliver a safer, healthier future for all. In between live acts by artists performing south Louisiana’s quintessential zydeco musical style, speakers like James Hiatt, a Calcasieu Parish native with ties to Cameron Parish and a Healthy Gulf organizer, and RISE St. James organizer Sharon Lavigne, who’s fighting against LNG development in rural Plaquemines Parish near the city of New Orleans, asked the nearly 100 in attendance to imagine a day in which the skyline isn’t dotted by oil and gas infrastructure.
Not long ago, it was hard to imagine an Earth Day rally in southwest Louisiana at all. For decades, the area has been decorated with fossil fuel infrastructure. Sunsets on some days are highlighted by the chemicals in the air; at night, thousands of facilities’ lights dot the dark sky.
“It takes a lot of balls for people to start speaking up,” Shreyas Vasudevan, a campaign researcher with the Louisiana Bucket Brigade, told EHN in the days after the rally. In a region with its history and economy intertwined with oil and gas production, “you can get a lot of social criticism – or ostracization, as well – even threats to your life.”
Many are involved in local, regional and national advocacy groups, including the Louisiana Bucket Brigade, Healthy Gulf, the Sierra Club, the Natural Resources Defense Council, the Turtle Island Restoration Network, the Center for Biological Diversity and the National Audubon Society.
“You see what’s happening with the environment,” Allaire said. “When the facts change, I got to change my mind about what we’re doing.” - John Allaire, environmental engineer and 30-year oil and gas industry veteran
But environmental organizers are fighting a multi-billion-dollar industry with federal and state winds at its back. And LNG’s federal support is coupled with existing state initiatives.
Under outgoing Louisiana Gov. John Bel Edwards — a term-limited Democrat — the state pledged a goal of reaching net-zero greenhouse emissions by 2050. Natural gas, which the LNG industry markets as a cleaner-burning alternative, is cited as one of the state’s solutions. Louisiana is the only state that produces a majority of its carbon emissions through fossil fuels refining industries, like LNG, rather than energy production or transportation. Governor Edwards’ office did not return EHN’s request for comment.
This accommodating attitude towards oil and gas industries has resulted in a workforce that’s trained to work in LNG refining facilities across much of the rural Gulf region, said Steven Miles, a lawyer at Baker Botts LLP and a fellow at the Baker Institute’s Center on Energy Studies. Simultaneously, anti-industrialization pushback is lacking. It’s good news for industries like LNG.
“The bad news,” Miles added. “[LNG facilities] are all being jammed in the same areas.”
One rallying cry for opponents is local health. The Environmental Integrity Project found that LNG export terminals emit chemicals like carbon monoxide –potentially deadly– and sulfur dioxide, of which the American Lung Association says long-term exposure can lead to heart disease, cancer, and damage to internal or female reproductive organs.
An analysis of emissions monitoring reports by the advocacy group the Louisiana Bucket Brigade found that Venture Global’s existing Calcasieu Pass facility had more than 2,000 permit violations.That includes exceeding the permit’s authorized air emissions limit to release nitrogen oxides, carbon monoxide, particulate matter and volatile organic compounds 286 out of its first 343 days of operation.
The Marvel Crane, the first liquid natural gas carrier to transport natural gas from the Southwest Louisiana LNG facility, transits a channel in Hackberry, Louisiana, May 28, 2019.
“This is just one facility,” at a time when three more facilities have been proposed in the region and state, Vasudevan said. Venture Global’s operational LNG facility — also known as Calcasieu Pass — “is much smaller than the other facility they’ve proposed.”
In an area that experienced 18 feet of storm surge during Hurricane Laura in 2020 — and just weeks later, struck by Hurricane Delta — Venture Global is planning to build a second export terminal Known as “CP2,” it’s the largest of the roughly two dozen proposed Gulf LNG export terminals, and a key focal point for the region’s local organizing effort.
Residents “don’t really want LNG as much as they want Cameron [Parish] from 1990 back,” Hiatt told EHN of locals’ nostalgia for a community before storms like Rita in 2005 brought up to 15 feet of storm surge, only for Laura to repeat the damage in 2020. Throughout that time, the parish’s population dipped from roughly 10,000 to 5,000. “But the wolf knocking at the door is LNG. Folks in Cameron think that's going to bring back community, bring back the schools, bring back this time before we had all these storms — when Cameron was pretty prosperous.”
“Clearly,” for the oil and gas industry, “the idea is to transform what was once the center of commercial fishing in Louisiana to gas exports,” Cindy Robertson, an environmental activist in southwest Louisiana, told EHN.
Helping fishers’ impacted by LNG is about “actual survival of this unique culture,” Cooke said.
In a measure of organizers’ success, she pointed to a recent permit hearing for Venture Global’s CP2 proposal. Regionally, it’s the only project that’s received an environmental permit, but not its export permit, which remains under federal review. At the meeting, some spoke on the company’s behalf. As an organizer, it was a moment of clarity, Cooke explained. Venture Global officials “had obviously done a lot of coaching and organizing and getting people together in Cameron to speak out on their behalf,” Cooke said. “So, in a way, that was bad. But in another way, it shows that we really had an impact.”
“It also shows that we have a lot to do,” Cooke added.
Environmental organizers like Alyssa Portaro describe a sense of fortitude among activists — she and her husband to the region’s nearby town of Vinton near the Texas-Louisiana border. Since the families’ relocation to their farm, Portaro has worked with Cameron Parish fisher-folk.
“I’ve not witnessed ‘community’ anywhere like there is in Louisiana,” Portaro told EHN. But a New Jersey native, she understands the toll environmental pollution has on low-income communities. “This environment, it’s so at risk — and it’s currently getting sacrificed to big industries.”
“People don’t know what we’d do without oil and gas. It comes at a big price,” she added.
Southwest Louisiana’s Cameron Parish is one of the state’s most rural localities. Marine economies were the area’s economic drivers until natural disasters and LNG facilities began pushing locals out, commercial fishers claim.
Credit: Xander Peters for Environmental Health News
Residents “don’t really want LNG as much as they want Cameron [Parish] from 1990 back,” James Hiatt , a Healthy Gulf organizer, told EHN. "But the wolf knocking at the door is LNG."
Credit: Xander Peters for Environmental Health News
For the most part, Cameron Parish’s life and economy has historically taken place at sea. As new LNG facilities are operational or in planning locally, locals claim the community they once knew is nearly unrecognizable.
Credit: Xander Peters for Environmental Health News
A disappearing parish
The stakes are seemingly higher for a region like southwest Louisiana, which is the epicenter of climate change impacts.
In nearly a century, the state has lost roughly 2,000 square miles of land to coastal erosion. In part driving the state’s erosion crisis is the compounding impacts of Mississippi River infrastructure and oil and gas industry activity, such as dredging canals for shipping purposes, according to a March study published in the journal Nature Sustainability. Louisiana’s Coastal Protection and Restoration Authority said Cameron Parish could lose more land than other coastal parishes over the next 50 years. A recent Climate Central report says the parish will be underwater within that time frame.
On top of erosion and sea level rise impacts, in August, 2023, marshland across southwest Louisiana’s Cameron Parish burned. The fires were among at least 600 across the Bayou State this year. Statewide, roughly 60,000 acres burned — a more than six-fold increase of the state’s average acres burned per year in the past decade alone.
But while the blaze avoided coastal Louisiana communities like Cameron Parish, the fires represented a warning coming from a growing chorus of locals across the region — one that’s echoes by the local commercial fishing population, who claimed to have experienced unusually low yields during the same time, according to a statement from a local environmental group. At the site of the Cameron Parish fires are locations for two proposed LNG expansion projects.
"The idea is to transform what was once the center of commercial fishing in Louisiana to gas exports.” - Cindy Robertson, an environmental activist in southwest Louisiana
It was an unusual occurrence for an area that’s more often itself underwater this time of year due to a storm surge from powerful storms. For LNG expansion’s local opposition, it was a red flag.
As the Louisiana Bucket Brigade has noted prior, the confluence of climate change’s raising of sea levels and the construction of LNG export terminals — some are proposed at the size of nearly 700 football fields — are wiping away the marshland folks like Allaire watched wither. Among their fears is that the future facilities won’t be able to withstand the power of another storm like Laura and its storm surge, which wiped away entire communities in 2020.
Amidst these regional climate impacts, LNG infrastructure has shown potential to exacerbate the accumulation of greenhouse gasses that cause global warming. For the most part, LNG is made up of methane — a greenhouse gas that’s more than 80 times more potent than carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Among the 22 current LNG facility proposals, the advocacy group Sierra Club described a combined climate pollution output that would roughly equal to that of about 440 coal plants.
The climate impacts prompt some of the LNG industry’s uncertainty going forward. It isn’t clear if Asian countries, key importers of U.S. LNG, will “embrace these energy transition issues,” said David Dismuke, an energy consultant and the former executive director of Louisiana State University’s Center for Energy Studies. Likewise, European nations remain skeptical of embracing LNG as a future staple fuel source.
“They really don't want to have to pull the trigger,” Dismukes added, referring to Europe’s hesitation to commit more resources to exporting LNG from the American market. “They don't want to go down that road.”
While there will be a tapering down of natural gas supply, Miles explained, “we’re going to need natural gas for a long time,” as larger battery storage for renewables is still unavailable.
“I'm not one of these futurists that can tell you where we're going to be, but I just don't see everything being extreme,” Dismukes said. “I don't see what we've already built getting stranded and going away, either.”
For now, LNG seems here to stay. From 2012 to 2022,U.S. natural gas demand — the sum of both domestic consumption and gross exports — rose by a whopping 43%, reported the U.S. Energy Information Administration, or EIA. Meanwhile, in oil and gas hotbeds like Louisiana and Texas, natural gas demand grew by 116%.
Throughout 25 years, Allaire has witnessed southwest Louisiana’s land slowly fade, in part driven by the same industrial spread regionally. Near where the front door of his travel trailer sits underneath the aluminum awning, he points to a chenier ridge located near the end of the property. It’s disappearing, he said.
“See the sand washing over, in here?” Allaire says, as he points towards the stretches of his property. “This pond used to go down for a half mile. This is all that's left of it on this side.”
Greenstone Resource Partners LLC sold water rights from Cibola, Arizona, to the Queen Creek suburb, sparking local fears and broader implications for water scarcity management.
Greenstone purchased nearly 500 acres in Cibola and later sold the water rights for a significant profit, redirecting water to Queen Creek, 200 miles away.
The transaction, conducted without a thorough environmental review, is now under legal scrutiny, with fears it sets a precedent for future large-scale water transfers.
Local residents and officials are alarmed, fearing this could lead to more agricultural land being sacrificed for urban water supplies.
Key quote:
"Here we are in the middle of a drought and trying to preserve the Colorado River, and we’re allowing water to be transferred off of the river."
Surging energy demands from a hub of global internet traffic are precipitating a shift back to coal power, impacting communities and energy policies across four states.
Massive data centers in Northern Virginia are causing increased demand for electricity, leading to proposals for expanding coal power usage and transmission lines.
This development challenges clean energy initiatives, with coal plants originally set to shut down being kept operational to meet energy demands.
Local residents express concerns over environmental and aesthetic impacts, feeling marginalized by decisions that favor industry needs over local well-being.
Key quote:
"It's not right. These power lines? They're not for me and my family. I didn't vote on this. And the data centers? That's not in West Virginia. That's a whole different state."
— Mary Gee, local resident
Why this matters:
Internet data centers require vast amounts of electricity to power servers, cooling systems, and other infrastructure. As more data is generated and accessed online, the energy demand of these centers skyrockets, contributing to greenhouse gas emissions from fossil fuel-based power sources.
Tesla announces job cuts for more than 10% of its workforce due to reduced demand for its electric vehicles and increased competition.
The company has also seen high-profile departures including Andrew Baglino, key in vehicle development, and Rohan Patel, former climate advisor.
There is a global slowdown in EV market growth, with Tesla facing strong competition from cheaper models and new entries from traditional automakers.
Key quote:
"I don’t want to make this sound too cynical, but it’s an indication that Tesla is a car company."
— Mike Ramsey, auto analyst at Gartner
Why this matters:
These layoffs could lead to a short-term reduction in EV production, affecting availability and potentially slowing down the overall adoption rates of electric vehicles. On the other hand, it might also lead to cost restructuring, resulting in more competitively priced models that could stimulate market demand.
In the Solomon Islands, Indigenous tribes are leveraging the lucrative carbon credit market to sustainably protect their ancient rainforests from logging while funneling vital income to their communities.
Several Solomon Islands tribes have united to form the Babatana Rainforest Conservation Project, preserving their forests and selling carbon credits internationally.
The project includes verified protected areas and employs local tribespeople as rangers, enhancing biodiversity and environmental stewardship.
The initiative provides significant economic benefits to the tribes, supporting community developments like education and infrastructure.
Key quote:
"If we misuse or destroy this land, we will not have any other,"
— Linford Pitatamae, leader of the Sirebe tribe
Why this matters:
Natural habitats play a significant role in the carbon market because of their ability to sequester carbon naturally. By valuing the carbon stored in these ecosystems, the market incentivizes their preservation. For example, a forest that might otherwise be cleared for agriculture could be maintained as a carbon sink. The revenue from selling carbon credits can make conservation financially viable for landowners and communities, providing an economic alternative to destructive practices like deforestation.
Amid growing scrutiny over the effectiveness of carbon offsets, a major philanthropic organization announces a groundbreaking plan to authenticate their impact by phasing out coal plants in Asia.
The carbon offset market is in disarray, with many credits failing to effectively counteract emissions as claimed.
The Rockefeller Foundation is launching an initiative to create credible offsets by closing down coal plants in Asia.
This effort aims to provide verifiable environmental benefits and support for communities affected by plant closures.
Key quote:
“There has been a lot of sloppy thinking [in the offset industry]. It has lead to bad practices and over crediting.”
— Joseph Curtin, managing director, Rockefeller’s Power and Climate Team
Why this matters:
A robust offset market can provide the financial mechanisms needed to transition to cleaner energy sources. Strengthening the market could help accelerate the retirement of coal plants by ensuring that investments in offsets lead to permanent reductions in greenhouse gases, thus contributing more effectively to the fight against climate change.
Biodegradable food packaging is a step in the right direction, experts say, but when composted carries risks of microplastic and chemical contamination.
Oregon’s Regenyx plant announced its closing in late February, with those involved calling it a success, despite never reaching planned capacity and millions of dollars lost.
