[Climate scientists have
long hesitated to link individual weather events directly to climate change.
Australian climate scientists in particular have been cautious to connect the
two in part because of the country’s naturally occurring cycles of drought and
flooding rains, which are already extreme when compared with much of the rest
of the world.]
By Matt Siegel
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Chris Hyde/Getty Images
A man comforted his daughter on their roof as they inspected damage to
their neighborhood after a flooding in the wake of Tropical Cyclone Oswald
on January 29 in Bundaberg, Australia.
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SYDNEY, Australia — Climate change was a
major driving force behind a string of extreme weather events that alternately
scorched and soaked large sections of Australia in recent months, according to a report issued Monday by the government’s Climate
Commission.
A four-month heat wave
during the Australian summer culminated in January in bush fires that tore
through the eastern and southeastern coasts of the country, where most
Australians live. Those record-setting temperatures were followed by torrential
rains and flooding in the more densely populated states of New South Wales and
Queensland that left at least six people dead and caused roughly $2.43 billion
in damage along the eastern seaboard.
Climate scientists have
long hesitated to link individual weather events directly to climate change.
Australian climate scientists in particular have been cautious to connect the
two in part because of the country’s naturally occurring cycles of drought and
flooding rains, which are already extreme when compared with much of the rest
of the world.
But the report from the
Climate Commission, titled “The Angry Summer,” argues that the frequency and
ferocity of recent extreme weather events indicate an acceleration that is
unlikely to abate unless serious steps are taken to prevent further changes to
the planet’s environment.
“I think one of the best
ways of thinking about it is imagining that the base line has shifted,” Tim
Flannery, the commission’s leader, told the Australian Broadcasting
Corporation. “If an athlete takes steroids, for example, their base line
shifts. They’ll do fewer slow times and many more record-breaking fast times.”
“The same thing is
happening with our climate system,” he said. “As it warms up, we’re getting
fewer cold days and cold events and many more record hot events.”
The commission is an
independent panel of experts that issues reports on behalf of the government
but is not subject to its direction or oversight.
At least 123 weather
records fell during the 90-day period the report examined. Included were
milestones like the hottest summer on record, the hottest day for Australia as
a whole and the hottest seven consecutive days ever recorded. To put it into
perspective, in the 102 years since Australia began gathering national records,
there have been 21 days when the country averaged a high of more than 102
degrees Fahrenheit (39 Celsius), and eight of them were in 2013.
The author of the
report, Will Steffen, said the findings were consistent with an overall global
acceleration of weather factors like rising temperatures and heavier rains
attributed by scientists to human-caused climate change.
“Over the last 50 years,
we’ve seen a doubling of the record hot days, we’re getting twice as much
record hot weather than we did in the mid-20th century,” he told ABC. “In fact,
if you look at the last decade, we’re getting three times as many record hot
days as we are record cold days, so the statistics are telling us, too, that there’s
an influence on extreme events — they’re shifting.”
“Statistically, there is
a 1-in-500 chance that we are talking about natural variation causing all these
new records,” Mr. Steffen, the director of the Climate Change Institute at
Australian National University, told The Sydney Morning Herald. “Not too many people would
want to put their life savings on a 500-to-1 horse.”
IN BRITAIN,THE ‘ENEMY’ WAS JUST LIKE ME
[The second Pakistani I met was a gorgeous 20-something fellow student at my university. She was from Karachi. I met her through a common friend. Her idols were Benazir Bhutto, Shah Rukh Khan and the Beatles. On Friday nights, she’d hit the clubs, dressed to kill, but was very careful not to smoke or drink.]
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Dan
Kitwood/Getty Images
A street
in West Ham, London, which has a significant
South
Asian immigrant population.
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Growing up in India, Pakistan was just a concept. And growing up in a
military family (my father was in the Indian Navy) meant conversations about
Pakistan didn’t leave much room for nuance.
By the time I moved to England in 2008, I had come into my own world
view: If Pakistan is the enemy country, all Pakistanis must most
definitely be enemies.
My first encounter with a Pakistani was at a corner shop in North
London, where I lived at the time. He was from Lahore, he said, and left some
40 years ago for a “better life.” He was an old man with a magnificent white
beard and kind eyes.
I always saw him through the prism of the country he came from.
But he was always talkative and warm. While transacting over a pint of
milk, he’d always bring up the most British of topics — the weather. He once
asked me to buy a warmer jacket than the one I was wearing. “We often
underestimate how cold it can get in the winter here,” he said.
“We?” I thought. “Who is we?”
With that one word, he had established a commonness that hitherto I
had ignored. After that day, our conversations got longer, and I’d often look
forward to talking to him about his life experiences — the racism he faced in
the 1970s, the problems of raising children in a foreign country and the
longing he felt for “home,” even 40 years after migrating from Pakistan.
We never talked about Kashmir, diplomacy or religion. If I happened to
mention something political, he’d just nod his head and say, “Two brothers
separated at birth will always be brothers. Even if the politicians try to
break us.” It was almost as if with that one sentence he had resolved the
India-Pakistan situation in his head.
When Pakistan won a cricket match against India, he’d always tease me,
and I never forgot to return the favor when India won a match.
The second Pakistani I met was a gorgeous 20-something fellow student
at my university. She was from Karachi. I met her through a common friend. Her
idols were Benazir Bhutto, Shah Rukh Khan and the Beatles. On Friday nights,
she’d hit the clubs, dressed to kill, but was very careful not to smoke or
drink.
She may have easily seen more Bollywood films than I ever will, and
she never talked politics with me. “What do you think of Kashmir?” I once asked
her. She replied, “It is all your fault, but I will forgive you if you promise
to set up a meeting with SRK if and when I come to Mumbai.” And she laughed.
And I did too.
She wasn’t the enemy.
And then I met a medical student during my hunt for a house to share
in London. He was the only one who made a cup of chai for me as I inspected the
flat. Still, I eventually decided not to take the room. Sharing a house with a
Pakistani was something I was not going to do. I am to this day ashamed of not
taking the flat.
I ended up living in an apartment with a quiet Japanese banker who
never spoke. It served me right.
In the past five years that I’ve lived in London, I’ve met so many
Pakistanis — cab drivers, barbers, doctors and colleagues. Every single
time, it has been a pleasant exchange. These “enemies” adore our celebrities,
eat the same food we do and look and behave like us too.
In England, Indians and Pakistanis share an identity and an immigrant
experience that unites us, overcoming the boundaries that separate us back
home.
Suddenly, I have begun to wonder who the real “enemy” was, if there
really was one at all.