What We're Reading

Throughout the book, Kolbert goes into detail about this human impact on our only home. She documents meetings with biologists who are trying to preserve the world’s rarest fish, scientists editing the DNA of Cane toads in Australia to mitigate their impacts, Australian researchers who are trying to develop a “super coral” that can survive with increase in temperature, and many more cases. I found the colorful variety of examples Kolbert employed were very effective in communicating the gravity of the challenges created by humans trying to control nature.

Interestingly, Kolbert does not explore a solution or a path forward on what to do about the issues caused by humans documented so artfully in the book. Rather, she painted a picture of a future where humans are either unable to reverse the impacts of the past and need to manage its consequences or are left with a circular problem of continuing to control nature, and the subsequent additional issues that come with that. I found the book to be very stimulating in terms of the richness of its storytelling in describing human impacts on nature, but this certainly isn’t a very encouraging tale if you’re looking for a big dose of optimism.

As I reflect on the unanswered questions about what to do to solve some of environmental problems in this book, I could not help but think about the broader and heated climate solution debates in our country today. Anyone involved with making decisions about our climate should read this book. Our political environment has mistakenly simplified complicated problems to binary outcomes and along party lines.

Under a White Sky is a reminder that solving problems related to our planet is complicated and difficult! Failing to give these complicated challenges the respect they deserve will only lead to more negative consequences, whether intended or unintended, impacting future generations. The climate challenge should not intimidate us. It should inspire us to come together and solve it as best we can.

In this future envisioned in The Fate of Food, businesses, governments, and individuals will need to make substantial investments to improve resiliency and efficiency, eliminate waste, and distribute food and water to the most vulnerable populations impacted by climate change. The investments required will be significant, but the costs of inaction will be substantially worse.

The Fate of Food also thoughtfully discusses consumer attitudes and the psychology at the intersection of technology and food production. For example, genetically modified organisms (GMOs) have gained a reputation for being experimental and unsafe, despite consensus among scientists that they are not inherently riskier and do not cause disease. Little attributes discomfort with GMOs to a more pervasive distrust of corporate-industrial influence on the sacred food we eat. Likewise, the book addresses the “gross factor” of eating plant-based meats or lab-grown meat – foods that may seem unnatural and repel the average consumer. She deftly points out that in the face of constraints on arable land, resources, and harsher climates, communicating the safety and benefits of these ”unnatural” foods will be crucial to widespread acceptance and more reliable protein sources.

The Fate of Food provides an accessible introduction to the global food supply for readers of all backgrounds and levels of expertise. I found the discussion in her book fresh and incredibly relevant in a rapidly changing global economy. As climate change accelerates the challenges to our food supply, The Fate of Food will become increasingly crucial for decision-makers on where to invest our limited resources to secure a better future for our food and ourselves.

Hooke provides terrific over-the-shoulder views of the principal-agent conflicts that pension managers face with PE. He argues that the basis for PE success lies not within market-beating returns, but in coopting the personal incentives of limited partners: by investing in PE with estimated and smoothed returns, they can delay cash funding requirements from taxpayers (which eventually become due at a multiple). Additionally, the complexity of selecting PE funds and other alternative investments provides job security to managers and consultants. What about asset class diversification? Hooke covers that as well—and the data for most alternative investments do not impress.

Hooke makes the case against smoothing returns, for example, by arguing that PE returns should align with the S&P 500 as adjusted for leverage, and a behavioral economist’s perspective on the sometimes-irrational behavior of public markets would be interesting to consider. Second, the practical benefit of PE lock-up periods is worth considering further, as not allowing LPs to sell at a bottom may be a competitive advantage relative to public equity funds. Finally, where the book touches on alternative investments broadly, it would have been interesting to delve into which asset classes do empirically provide diversification and/or return benefits.

If this book became required reading for all pension managers and their consultants, it is not hyperbole to say that the world might be a better place. The book is well argued, backed by research, and ultimately worth reading for anyone concerned with rising income inequality and the use of taxpayer funds. This book should also be read by anyone considering entering the PE industry or its broader ecosystem.

In recent months, the SEC has begun to focus on the fees paid to private equity funds, proposing they should be subject to closer scrutiny as part of a broader effort to boost efficiency, competition, and transparency in the markets. As a company, we are focused only on investments that improve our climate future, and to this end, we track the carbon reduction impact of each and every one of our investments. Recently, we have engaged with the SEC on the related issue of mandatory, accurate, and carbon-focused ESG reporting. We see the emergence of many dubious ESG certifications as another path for undue enrichment. The issues at hand in The Myth of Private Equity are more impactful to everyday lives than one might suspect and are actively being considered by policy makers; Hooke’s The Myth of Private Equity is an important voice to consider in this discourse.

Smith’s relentless curiosity, research, and tinkering finally converge on a solution: restorative ocean farming. By deploying an inexpensive system of vertical underwater structures that can be raised and lowered to evade storms, Smith is able to grow oysters, mussels, clams, scallops, and kelp. Smith’s regenerative ocean farming avoids the vices of land-based agriculture: it requires no inputs of pesticides, fresh water, or even land. Yet it produces protein and nutrient dense foods while absorbing significant carbon and nitrogen, providing habitat for fish, and reducing local ocean acidification. Most importantly, it allows Smith to make a satisfying living on the water.

Smith presents a crucial voice in the climate change conversation: that of someone whose livelihood depends on a healthy planet. Eat Like a Fish is a love letter to the ocean that doesn’t get lost in sentimentality or academic jargon. With humility and humor, Smith offers a glimpse into one industry’s turmoil and a path for redefining our relationship with the ocean.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma will challenge the reader to think more critically about what and how they choose to eat, and for those with a focus on climate change, it will also cause them to think about how those choices impact the environment.  My own journey with food choices began by reading Pollan’s powerful account in this book, and that has forever changed me.  I hope more colleagues and anyone reading this review gets the same spark from these pages – opening a profound shift in their dietary lifestyle as a result.

To organize the vast spectrum of coverage, the book unfolds in eight distinctly themed chapters (Root, Advocate, Reframe, Reshape, Persist, Feel, Nourish, and Rise). For example, the “Advocate” chapter highlights the critical policy-making perspective in showing the kinds of legislative efforts needed to hold the powerful accountable and push for climate policies that benefit all people. “Nourish” focuses on nature and demonstrates that every part of our ecosystem is inseparable and intertwined. In “Rise,” the essayists highlight proactive collaboration stories across generations, industry sectors, and communities. It is also noteworthy that each chapter includes beautiful artwork and poems that perfectly fit the theme.

In sum, all forty essays are well-written and informative. I found the following contributions particularly intriguing, as they provide a closer look at specific climate solutions and environmental subjects that I hadn’t paid much attention to before:

• “Indigenous Prophecy and Mother Earth,” where Sherri Mitchell Weh’na Ha’mu Kwasset reminds us that indigenous knowledge exists as a millennia-long study carrying thousands of years of history on coping with environmental variability and finding harmony with the world around us, yet for so long, it has been underappreciated and misrepresented in mainstream narratives;

• Jane Zelikova’s “Solutions Underfoot,” which zooms the lens on soil, a regularly overlooked resource that contains enormous carbon-banking potential. Decades of ecologist research makes Zelikova realize how climate change disrupts ecological relationship and lowers soil fertility, but it is also her research that suggests simply by feeding microbes we can bring back healthy soil;

• “Like the Monarch,” where Sarah Stillman warns that natural disasters do not only induce climate refugees but put pre-existing migrant communities more vulnerable to extreme weather, and underscores the urgency for our system to get prepared for the scale of climate displacement from both domestic and across the border;

• Jainey K. Bavish’s “A Tale of Three Cities” compares and contrasts practices coastal cities like New Orleans, Honolulu, or New York City have been taking to build city infrastructure’s resiliency against climate change impacts. From adaption to transformation, Bavish acknowledges the possibility of community-driven projects and urges cities to factor climate risks into every public investment in the future.

Despite some overlap in ideas and messages being addressed by different essayists, All We Can Save is generally a satisfying read. The refreshing outlook this book offers has inspired me to explore future writings and project updates from several of the contributors to this anthology.

Lomborg uses GDP as a barometer of human welfare, stating early in the book that historically, it has been a good yardstick for happiness and life satisfaction and more traditional living standards. This is all well and good, but when Lomborg discusses GDP projections under various climate change response scenarios later in the book, one has to wonder if the results wouldn’t be different if we placed different monetary values on things like biodiversity, as compared to the various studies Lomborg cites.

False Alarm’s best contributions to the current dialogue around climate change are the discussions around adaptation. Lomborg writes that infrastructure is already being built to mitigate the impact of flooding in low-lying areas, and behavior can be altered, so we no longer build expensive structures where floods and wildfires are anticipated. He keenly observes we are not often willing to discuss these as options, as it can feel defeatist. Still, they should be on the table as even keeping temperature increases to moderate levels will result in increased weather events. Lomborg’s call for a carbon tax is supported by economists of all political leanings and would be a welcome addition to the climate fight. The arguments in False Alarm differ from other arguments against the prevalent approaches to climate change in that it is science-based and focuses on maximizing human welfare rather than particular special interests, which is commendable.

Informed readers who are interested in differing perspectives on climate change will find much to digest in False Alarm. However, they will undoubtedly disagree on specific points and may take issue with Lomborg’s tone in certain places. Unfortunately, it is easy to see Lomborg’s argument being hijacked by those whose vested interests are not with humanity but rather preserving their entrenched interest in a dirty energy economy, so False Alarm should be read in concert with other legitimate climate perspectives.

In Earl Swift’s New York Times best-selling book, Chesapeake Requiem: A Year with the Watermen of Vanishing Tangier Islands, Swift reports on his roughly two years of life on Tangier, on and off from late 2015 through 2017. He tells the story of Tangier’s townfolk on a person to person basis, using one-on-one interactions to provide a unique look into both the history of the island and the daily life of its people. Swift goes into tremendous detail in relaying both his own experiences on Tangier, and the rich stories the Tangier Island residents reveal. This apt usage of colorful dialogue and vivid storytelling makes for an enjoyable and page-turning read.

One of the more powerful notions portrayed in the book is the notion that with formerly inhabited areas now covered by the sea, Tangier residents are literally and metaphorically stepping into the past, while also seeing into their future. You do not have to look very hard to quickly learn that Tangier has a very religious and conservative population, with roughly 87% of the population voting for Donald Trump. Many residents do not believe in climate change, and while Swift does, he presents his opinions about Tangier in a far more unbiased way than others who have chronicled the plight of the Island and its people.

I split my consumption of the book between the print copy and audiobook, which is narrated beautifully and is equally enjoyable as the written version. In sum, Chesapeake Requiem offers a poignant and deeply personal glimpse into a community on the front lines of a climate breakdown that will eventually reach everyone, indifferent to whether they believe in the science and urgency of the climate crisis.

Today, capitalism has become a polarizing topic, in part because many pundits attribute climate change to the greed of big business. While McAfee concedes that capitalism has contributed to a fair share of environmental issues, he asserts that capitalistic principals are essential to dematerialization needed to mitigate climate change. McAfee explains that a competitive system which allows people to reap the rewards of their efforts will create a continuous effort to innovate, and thus limit the materials that are being used. Very simply, it’s the idea that with a competitive market, people have an inherent incentive to drive down costs. A very tangible example of this principle in play is the evolution of the cell phone. McAfee astutely points out that the modern cell phone has replaced over a dozen devices one would have typically purchased from a Radio Shack 15+ years ago.
Another great example McAfee provides is the aluminum can. Amazingly, when the aluminum cans were first introduced to the market in 1959, they weighed 85 grams. In 2011, aluminum cans only weighted 13 grams. This continued effort to drive down costs in the United States is a big reason why the nation is past its peak resource consumption but producing more than ever before.

Later in More from Less, McAfee goes on to contrast the relative efficiency of capitalism with the inefficacious economic philosophies of socialism and communism. The most startling example of this is highlighted by the ghastly overhunting of whales done by the USSR, which helped drive the humpback whale to near extinction. The Soviet Union had little economic use for the whale, as often the dead whales were simply thrown back into the water. This overhunting of the whale was simply an unscrupulous way of meeting the fishing quotas set by central planners.

While McAfee does an excellent job guiding the reader through the history of dematerialization, the book left me wanting more from the “What Happens Next” notion expressed in the subtitle. For example, McAfee proposes nuclear as a potential long-term energy solution but does little to detail how nuclear will be able to overcome the safety and waste management concerns. Instead, he writes off nuclear’s lack of widespread implementation as something primarily due to the irrational fears of the public. In general, McAfee’s view on the future could be summarized as: smart people have figured out solutions in the past, and if adequately incentivized, the intelligent people of the future are bound to find solutions in the future. Personally, I think that this mindset can be dangerous in that it often leads to apathy and inaction.

While the analysis of the future is a bit limited, More from Less is a well-written and thought-provoking book that I would recommend to anyone who would like solace in these uncertain times.

Stacey Haney is the book’s protagonist.The reader immediately embraces Stacey as a small-town nurse, daughter of a Vietnam veteran, and mother of two, who loves living on a farm enjoying her children participating in small-town rites-of-passage such as showing their goats at the 4-H fair. As the book begins, Amity is at the center of a fracking boom. The townspeople have two attitudes toward fracking – it’s patriotic as it reduces reliance on foreign oil and creates jobs, and it’s an opportunity to cash in as the historical perspective is that coal was extracted from local land, but the community never participated in the profits.

Stacey and her neighbor Beth Voyles readily sign drilling leases, although the reader cringes as Stacey and Beth are ushered into an office at 4:30 p.m. without legal representation to sign their leases. Problems with noise, dust, air quality, and most notably water quality begin almost immediately; and Stacey’s son Harley becomes severely ill missing an entire year of school.

Stacey begins an incredibly long, complex, and frustrating journey of attempting to obtain clean water, keep her home, battle Range Resources, and secure the assistance of government agencies. She is relentless but facing impossible odds as she encounters the corporate/energy/regulatory structure that has too many entrenched resources. Even many locals see her as a “trouble-maker” and a risk to their fracking profits.

Stacey is joined in this mission by Kendra Smith and incredibly diligent small-town lawyer. With a relentless work ethic, Kendra uncovers shocking hubris and fraud. She battles Range Resources, the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection, and various other corporate and regulatory entities. She solicits the assistance of the EPA and Justice Department, both of which shockingly fail to act.

Ultimately, the complex relationship between government and Appalachia is an interesting backdrop of this story. Ironically, Washington County is home to the Whiskey Rebellion of 1791-94 in which locals tar-and-feathered the tax collector of Alexander Hamilton’s whiskey tax. President Washington sent 13,000 federal troops to quash the rebellion in the young country’s first test of its willingness to enforce federal laws and utilize federal troops against its citizens. Two hundred and thirty years later, rural distrust of government remains an important component of small-town life, particularly as related to energy policy. In discussing federal regulation, one Amity resident claims “people from Philadelphia and Pittsburgh are bottom-feeders who don’t want to know where their meat or energy comes from.”

The human toll of fracking and other energy extraction, particularly in areas primarily populated by persons of limited means is a thought-provoking and long-standing challenge. Amity and Prosperity causes one to confront these issues in the context of a struggling but relentless small-town woman. This book will cause you to cheer for Stacey with all your heart, and perhaps re-think your impression of Appalachia and energy policy. For all these reasons, an excellent read.

The second and largest part of the book focuses on the spectacular improvements in 13 dimensions of the human condition and one, chapter 10, in the middle of the section, on the environment. This is the first sign that he might also need to focus on the First Law of Thermodynamics, energy in a system is a constant, as well as the Second. How did so many good things happen to humans? What is the source of this bounty? Physics requires balance in the system. Pinker does not. Rather than sticking to the good start of integrating the 2nd Law into the progress of the human condition, he separates it and then needlessly enters a diatribe on the long history of environmental alarmists from the first “Limits to Growth” to Naomi Klein bashing. He ignores the possibility that the environmental issues, that were perhaps overstated in hindsight, might also have substantial elements of truth. He concludes “But resources just refuse to give out”, forgetting the Second Law, that there is entropy (e.g. excess CO2) in the resources that ‘refuse to give out’. Pinker believes climate change is serious and must be addressed now and has useful solutions (carbon pricing, nuclear power and even ‘moderate’ climate engineering). But somehow it sits awkwardly outside of the other 13 chapters, as if it can be separated.

The final section is a plea to return to reason, science and humanism, set against the modern complications of dogmatism, digital information explosion and unprecedented complexity in everything. He surveys a lifetime of reading suggestions, convincing me that I can learn much from more study of this section. In the end the plea to ‘apply knowledge to enhance human flourishing’ is of course compelling.

In an email correspondence with Pinker last summer, I congratulated him on the book and suggested he could improve the second edition with a more integrated consideration of the Second Law. He referred me to the orphaned Chapter 10. I will send him the link to this review and see if I can’t get him more engaged. I’m no Bill Gates, but that doesn’t mean this compelling book can’t be improved.

Part II, “The Present” offers a snapshot of the U.S. electric power sector in 2015, including resource mix, ownership, and regulatory regime. This sets the stage for Willrich’s recommendations in the final section, Part III, where he lays out a vision for the future of the electricity grid. Willrich’s strategy focuses on four overarching principles – reliability, security, sustainability, financeability – and concludes with 15 detailed recommendations for putting a transformative plan into action.

Of particular interest is his suggestion that intensive financial oversight will be required for modernization of the grid, to avoid excessive leverage and address high technology and market risks. Here I think he misses the mark and believe the analysis would benefit from further discussion of the critical role that private sector financing will continue to play in achieving grid modernization.

For anyone in the energy industry, this is a must-read that offers valuable context for the evolution of the grid, acts as a guide to its regulatory complexities and, most importantly, provides a foundation for understanding the immense opportunity that lies ahead.

As you might expect, this makes for a dense read. Thankfully, Smil provides a variety of graphics to bring the story to life – including charts and drawings of the various industrial mills and machines. As the story unfolds, Smil provides a keen analysis of the industrial era and the 20th century, highlighting both the increase in the availability of energy and our ability to use it efficiently. While several of the examples such as lighting and transportation are quite obvious, Smil also dives into the less familiar but equally impactful ways we’ve put energy to work over the years – such as Haber-Bosch ammonia synthesis, which is employed in fertilizing a large portion of the planet’s crops. By not limiting the discussion to Western Europe and North America in this section, Smil deserves extra credit for his broad geographic and cultural focus.

While the majority of Energy and Civilization is a well-researched matter of fact historical readout, Smil chose to editorialize more in the final chapter when highlighting the carbon crisis and his appropriate fears for the future. However, Smil does not devote many pages to what he believes the answer is to this growing problem. While it’s reasonable to assume this is may be outside the scope of an already voluminous work, one can’t help but be curious of the author’s views on possible solutions given his vast knowledge on the subject at hand.

In closing, Smil emphasizes that change comes gradually and that various eras of energy production generally overlap, pointing out that draft horse usage in American agriculture did not peak until 1917, well after coal began to rise. We know that to meet the goals of the Paris Climate Accord, we will need to transition to new, cleaner energy sources faster than we have been able to historically.

Despite the lack of emphasis on the future, Energy and Civilization is a thorough and intelligent text – a reliable resource for students of energy and history alike.