Tuesday, October 29, 2019

The impossible journey | journey of a trainee tanguero

https://benlovejoy.blog/2018/10/28/the-impossible-journey/


https://benlovejoy.blog


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Deep Tango Thoughts :: No More Crappy Music

There's a lot of really good traditional tango music out there in the world. A lot.

There's a lot of good alt/nuevo music.

Whether you're having an all trad milonga, or a 50/50 milonga, or all nuevo, play all of the best fucking music.

Don't play crappy music.

Please.

It is your moral imperative. You owe it to tango, to your community, to the dancers of the community, to yourself.

It brainwashes new dancers to hear shit week after week.

Seasoned dancers who know good music when they hear it just won't come to your milonga.

Figure it the fuck out.

Do the research. Put in the time.

Invest in your collection, searching out the very best versions of every song.

Lead, or get out of the fucking way.

Go big or go home.

That is all.

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Tango and Chaos | Cabeceo Techniques | 2006

https://www.tangoandchaos.org/chapt_3search/6cabeceo.htm


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With Just One Look - The Art of Cabeceo | TangoTix

https://tangotix.com/blogs/news/9541581-with-just-one-look-the-art-of-cabeceo


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To Cabeceo or not to Cabeceo… | Tango Elegante

Fairly detailed treatment of mirada/cabeceo...

https://eleganttango.com/2017/to-cabeceo-or-not-to-cabeceo/


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Inviting someone to dance, the art of cabeceo. | Stefani Kang Tango

http://stefanikang-tango.com/inviting-someone-to-dance-the-art-of-cabeceo/


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Tango Therapist: The power of the Mirada

https://tango-therapist.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-power-of-mirada.html


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The Art of the Cabeceo — SF Loves Tango

http://sflovestango.com/the-art-of-the-cabeceo/


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Why do we need cabeceo/mirada? - Tango Mentor

http://tangomentor.com/why-cabeceo-mirada/


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Friday, October 25, 2019

Oxygen Tango West L.A.

Great promo video...

When to give dance feedback

Cuadro relacionador de estilos orquestales

Book

Politics for Impossible Times | Peter Frase


Politics for Impossible Times

Beware the climate pragmatists.

New studies released in early 2019 report that the continent of Antarctica is melting more quickly and more extensively than anticipated. This process has been going on for decades, but recently picked up speed. From 2009 to 2017, the Antarctic ice sheet melted at a rate six times that which was observed in the 1980s. Since the South Pole contains nearly 90 percent of the fresh water on Earth, more rapid melting there will lead to more rapid rises in sea level, with destructive consequences for human civilization.

At the same time, interest seems to be bubbling up, even in the backwards United States, in joining a serious attempt to tackle climate change with the traditional egalitarian project of the socialist left. In the US this takes the form of the so-called Green New Deal, tying together a jobs-and-investment message echoing the FDR 1930s, and a modern agenda of zero-carbon energy systems. The Green New Deal banner has recently been picked up by rising-star Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who has linked it to other once-radical but now newly plausible ideas like dramatically increased tax rates for the very rich.

It is tempting to follow up warnings about rapid climate change with a pragmatic appeal to realistic policy proposals along the lines of the Green New Deal. What is the alternative, after all, other than giving up? As we will see, however, this way of proceeding presents us with what appears to be a frightening and demoralizing gap between the scale and immediacy of our problems, and the weakness of the social and political forces currently available to address them.

This becomes clear when we examine the document that, just a few months ago, shaped most topical climate journalism: the October 2018 report of the United Nations' Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which describes the potential impacts of global warming at a scale of 1.5 degrees Celsius. This is a detailed and comprehensive publication, and few people have the patience or knowledge to wade through its pages upon pages of charts and graphs. But the basic message of the report is as sweeping as it is terrifying. Even the report's title, "Global Warming of 1.5°," is misleading in its understatement. The report observes that the Earth is already nearly one degree warmer relative to a pre-twentieth-century baseline.

"Some are convinced instead that they can hide out in their walled compounds, protected by their killer drones, while the rest of us scramble for what's left of a ruined Earth."

Moreover, 1.5 degrees of warming represents an optimistic lower bound figure, achievable only in the context of "ambitious mitigation actions." The point of the report, then, is not to argue that 1.5 degrees of warming is possible, but that it is probably inevitable, and the only question is whether, in fact, we will experience significantly greater warming than that baseline. The report's framing chapter concludes ominously that, in fact, "there is no single answer to the question of whether it is feasible to limit warming to 1.5°C and adapt to the consequences," despite the nominal commitment of the Paris Climate Agreement signatories to this figure.

If the IPCC report is any kind of landmark, it will be because it puts an end to a basically fictitious debate about the empirical reality of human-made climate change and instead focuses discussion on probable outcomes and possible adaptive strategies. The debate is fictitious because one side presumes, disingenuously, to base their arguments on uncertainty about climate science, rather than admitting themselves partisans of a political and class project designed to ensure that the costs of ecological chaos are borne exclusively by the powerless.

In much of the world, this has long been obvious, but in the United States the persistence of a prominent denialist wing on the right makes it necessary to briefly clarify this point. Useful idiots aside, it is unwise to presume that those who deny the reality of human-caused climate change are genuinely concerned about scientific accuracy.

More helpful is examining the apocalyptic fantasies of the super-rich, who have begun to invest in various schemes to hide out from what they see as the looming collapse of civilization. In the case of the Silicon Valley billionaire Peter Thiel, this has taken the form of fantasies about "seasteading" an independent floating city, and investment in land in the safety of New Zealand, alongside his super-rich peers.

The Trump administration, in its typically hamfisted way, has clarified the true stakes of the climate change debate, in the course of its recent battle against strict California car emissions restrictions. As part of this jockeying for position the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) issued a report with a shocking revelation of the administration's view of the future, predicting that not only was further warming inevitable but that it was likely to be on the order of four degrees by 2100, not the comparatively modest 1.5 of the IPCC report and the Paris accords.

The purpose of this alarming declaration, in the context of the NHTSA report, was to claim that strict emissions standards like California's are unlikely to make a noticeable impact relative to the scale of global warming, and that such standards are therefore economically unjustifiable. But while notable in its crudity, this "smoke 'em if you got 'em" attitude aligns with the perspective of capitalist elites, particularly in the extractive industries, whose primary goal is to avoid paying the cost of climate mitigation in the form of new regulations or taxes.

Here the intersection of the Trump administration with the doomsday-prepping Thiel types becomes significant, as it puts the lie to the comforting eco-liberal bromide that, really, we're all in this together and have an interest in protecting the Earth for all of our sakes. It's clear that not everyone believes this, and some are convinced instead that they can hide out in their walled compounds, protected by their killer drones, while the rest of us scramble for what's left of a ruined Earth. They may well be deluded in this belief—captive to a bourgeois ideology that sees capitalists as individualist wealth creators rather than people dependent on the labor of millions. But we can't count on them to figure that out before they take us all down with them.

This brings us back to the IPCC report, and its catalog of environmental horrors. It is a valuable resource if only for its breadth, describing a crisis that can only in the most superficial way be summarized as "warming." The collapse of marine ecosystems, reefs and fisheries, flooding of densely inhabited coastal areas, falling crop yields, among other calamities, make their appearances. Other research has examined the impact of sustained "wet bulb" temperatures (think heat plus humidity) surpassing 32 degrees Celsius (about 90 degrees Fahrenheit). At such temperatures, it becomes impossible to carry out ordinary activities outside, as the human body becomes physically unable to cool itself. The result is mass death from overheating, and ultimately the possible abandonment of some regions, including densely packed parts of South America, India, and China.

One could go on at great length about this and other disasters foreseen in the IPCC models, but in many ways this is beside the point. The general lesson is conveyed effectively by a series of simple charts in the October 2018 report (figures 3.19–3.21). These are scales showing the effect of different degrees of warming on a variety of systems including among other things "coastal flooding," "terrestrial ecosystems," "crop yields," "heat-related morbidity and mortality," and "ability to achieve sustainable development goals." Severity of impacts is shown for increases ranging from below one degree up beyond two degrees. For most of these areas, the colored scale quickly reaches into the red, for "severe and widespread impacts/risks," and beyond to purple, "very high risks of severe impacts and the presence of significant irreversibility . . . combined with limited ability to adapt due to the nature of the hazard."

And recall that these are essentially best case scenarios for what might be possible if rapid adaptation in line with the Paris agreements proves to be feasible. It barely touches upon the severe levels of warming envisioned by Trump's NHTSA, let alone the even more extreme scenarios envisioned in the event that various ecosystem feedback loops are triggered, such as the rapid release of Arctic permafrost methane.

The farthest the IPCC will go is the realm of "warming up to 3°C" (table 3.7), which is frightening enough. There we are given dire warnings about rainforests ("potential tipping point leading to pronounced forest dieback"), heat ("substantial increase in potentially deadly heatwaves very likely"), and agriculture ("drastic reductions in maize crop globally and in Africa"), among others.

So now we come back, finally, to the Green New Deal, or whatever other package of plausible social democratic reforms one prefers. Now we are back in the realm of such sedate ideas as the "smart" electricity grid, renovating buildings for energy efficiency, and windmills and solar panels for all. Laudable goals all, and yet depressingly scant gruel after any time spent gorging on the vivid projections of the scientists.

There is also the problem that tends to arise when multiple separate political goals are packaged together into one big trick that is intended to achieve them all. In the case of the Green New Deal, this problem arises in particular from the relationship between the redistributive and ecological tasks it must take on. As envisioned by Ocasio-Cortez, for example, the Green New Deal is meant to be a job-creation program, with the newly popular "job guarantee" taking a central role.

It is easy to imagine in advance that jobs for all and infrastructure investment walk hand in hand in harmony. But in practice it is impossible to ensure that the scale of labor and the particular skill sets needed will align with the masses clamoring for incomes. And whenever such "dual mandate" projects come into conflict with themselves, one of the mandates will tend to win out over the other. If the job guarantee ends up largely a make-work program, it is hard to see how it can also be Green. Other, not quite as mainstream ideas, such as working time reduction and the Universal Basic Income, may need to be brought on board as the GND idea comes closer to fruition.

"The Earth is on fire as we bicker about what kind of fire extinguishers to buy."

But this all still feels like fiddling around at the edges. The Earth is on fire as we bicker about what kind of fire extinguishers to buy. The sheer urgency of the climate issue strongly militates, for the pragmatically minded, toward a form of "do something-ism" that veers headlong into whatever project can achieve a majority, however inadequate it might be.
There is, of course, nothing really pragmatic about settling on a compromise that doesn't solve the problem it claims to. But the equally unsatisfying alternative is a kind of intransigent, insurrectionary maximalism, shouting portents of doom from the rooftops. It is tempting to go onto Twitter, or into the pages of Commune, to deride those who can't see the need for immediate action and revolution, by any means necessary.

So we come back around to the old standard, What Is To Be Done? The unsatisfying but probably sole possible answer, of course, is: everything. The Green New Deal moves on, but there's something to be said for those who prefer the work of building more local, communal projects of self-sufficiency and mutual aid. While no substitute for contesting the commanding heights of the economy, these projects can gradually build the trust, and the collective capacity, for the kind of truly militant mass action that is ultimately required. Then, of course, there is the slow building of transnational links; capital and climate are implacably global, while the gradually reviving left remains depressingly parochial, in the rich countries especially.

So perhaps, the only way to work for a sustainable post-carbon world is not to actively focus on it. Perhaps we must tactically look away from that impossibly large chasm between our politics and our planet's needs. If the social force necessary to make a better world does not yet exist, we can only try to create it. That may mean rallying behind the Green New Deal, or building our local network of communes, or both. It will also mean occasional dramatic acts of direct action, attacking the infrastructures and institutions of fossil capital directly—proving to them that their dreams of hiding from the desperate masses in their walled compounds are doomed.
That can't be everyone's task, nor should it be if we are to avoid degenerating into adventurism. But it will be someone's. If we make it to the other side in one piece, someone will be remembered as the Frederick Douglass of climate change. But so too will someone be the John Brown. It is in that sense, at least, that we really are in this together.




Saturday, October 19, 2019

Cabeceo Stories :: Maria Filali and Gianpiero Galdi :: 030 Tango

I think I've posted this one before...








030tango
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In this episode of the Cabeceo Stories Maria Filali and Gianpiero Galdi tell us two stories about saying no to dancing, with and without cabeceo.

The cabeceo is an essential part of Argentine Tango culture. A simple and elegant way to show interest to dance with each other! Because we are not used to look into each others eyes, it can be the cause for a lot of confusion and fun. But when it works, it's the perfect way to start to dance!
030tango is gathering the best cabeceo stories by tango dancers from all over the world!

We would like to hear your story!
Record your story with your webcam, mobile phone or other camera and send it to us with a WeTransfer, Dropbox or GoogleDrive Link via our contact form at
https://www.030tango.com/contact/

If you are wondering what this Cabeceo is that he is talking about, read our guide to Cabeceo on 030tango:
https://www.030tango.com/a-guide-to-t...

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Visit 030tango for more videos
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Recorded on 2016/08/20 at Tango Cazino Festival 2016
#030tango #cabeceo #tango #FilaliGaldi

Music: “Celos” by Tangopianissimo
https://www.tangopianissimo.com





https://youtu.be/vMtPXyY7Nbs





Monday, October 14, 2019

What if We Stopped Pretending the Climate Apocalypse Can Be Stopped? | The New Yorker


What If We Stopped Pretending?

The climate apocalypse is coming. To prepare for it, we need to admit that we can't prevent it.

"There is infinite hope," Kafka tells us, "only not for us." This is a fittingly mystical epigram from a writer whose characters strive for ostensibly reachable goals and, tragically or amusingly, never manage to get any closer to them. But it seems to me, in our rapidly darkening world, that the converse of Kafka's quip is equally true: There is no hope, except for us.

I'm talking, of course, about climate change. The struggle to rein in global carbon emissions and keep the planet from melting down has the feel of Kafka's fiction. The goal has been clear for thirty years, and despite earnest efforts we've made essentially no progress toward reaching it. Today, the scientific evidence verges on irrefutable. If you're younger than sixty, you have a good chance of witnessing the radical destabilization of life on earth—massive crop failures, apocalyptic fires, imploding economies, epic flooding, hundreds of millions of refugees fleeing regions made uninhabitable by extreme heat or permanent drought. If you're under thirty, you're all but guaranteed to witness it.

If you care about the planet, and about the people and animals who live on it, there are two ways to think about this. You can keep on hoping that catastrophe is preventable, and feel ever more frustrated or enraged by the world's inaction. Or you can accept that disaster is coming, and begin to rethink what it means to have hope.

Even at this late date, expressions of unrealistic hope continue to abound. Hardly a day seems to pass without my reading that it's time to "roll up our sleeves" and "save the planet"; that the problem of climate change can be "solved" if we summon the collective will. Although this message was probably still true in 1988, when the science became fully clear, we've emitted as much atmospheric carbon in the past thirty years as we did in the previous two centuries of industrialization. The facts have changed, but somehow the message stays the same.

Psychologically, this denial makes sense. Despite the outrageous fact that I'll soon be dead forever, I live in the present, not the future. Given a choice between an alarming abstraction (death) and the reassuring evidence of my senses (breakfast!), my mind prefers to focus on the latter. The planet, too, is still marvelously intact, still basically normal—seasons changing, another election year coming, new comedies on Netflix—and its impending collapse is even harder to wrap my mind around than death. Other kinds of apocalypse, whether religious or thermonuclear or asteroidal, at least have the binary neatness of dying: one moment the world is there, the next moment it's gone forever. Climate apocalypse, by contrast, is messy. It will take the form of increasingly severe crises compounding chaotically until civilization begins to fray. Things will get very bad, but maybe not too soon, and maybe not for everyone. Maybe not for me.

Some of the denial, however, is more willful. The evil of the Republican Party's position on climate science is well known, but denial is entrenched in progressive politics, too, or at least in its rhetoric. The Green New Deal, the blueprint for some of the most substantial proposals put forth on the issue, is still framed as our last chance to avert catastrophe and save the planet, by way of gargantuan renewable-energy projects. Many of the groups that support those proposals deploy the language of "stopping" climate change, or imply that there's still time to prevent it. Unlike the political right, the left prides itself on listening to climate scientists, who do indeed allow that catastrophe is theoretically avertable. But not everyone seems to be listening carefully. The stress falls on the word theoretically.

Our atmosphere and oceans can absorb only so much heat before climate change, intensified by various feedback loops, spins completely out of control. The consensus among scientists and policy-makers is that we'll pass this point of no return if the global mean temperature rises by more than two degrees Celsius (maybe a little more, but also maybe a little less). The I.P.C.C.—the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change—tells us that, to limit the rise to less than two degrees, we not only need to reverse the trend of the past three decades. We need to approach zero net emissions, globally, in the next three decades.

This is, to say the least, a tall order. It also assumes that you trust the I.P.C.C.'s calculations. New research, described last month in Scientific American, demonstrates that climate scientists, far from exaggerating the threat of climate change, have underestimated its pace and severity. To project the rise in the global mean temperature, scientists rely on complicated atmospheric modelling. They take a host of variables and run them through supercomputers to generate, say, ten thousand different simulations for the coming century, in order to make a "best" prediction of the rise in temperature. When a scientist predicts a rise of two degrees Celsius, she's merely naming a number about which she's very confident: the rise will be at least two degrees. The rise might, in fact, be far higher.

As a non-scientist, I do my own kind of modelling. I run various future scenarios through my brain, apply the constraints of human psychology and political reality, take note of the relentless rise in global energy consumption (thus far, the carbon savings provided by renewable energy have been more than offset by consumer demand), and count the scenarios in which collective action averts catastrophe. The scenarios, which I draw from the prescriptions of policy-makers and activists, share certain necessary conditions.

The first condition is that every one of the world's major polluting countries institute draconian conservation measures, shut down much of its energy and transportation infrastructure, and completely retool its economy. According to a recent paper in Nature, the carbon emissions from existing global infrastructure, if operated through its normal lifetime, will exceed our entire emissions "allowance"—the further gigatons of carbon that can be released without crossing the threshold of catastrophe. (This estimate does not include the thousands of new energy and transportation projects already planned or under construction.) To stay within that allowance, a top-down intervention needs to happen not only in every country but throughout every country. Making New York City a green utopia will not avail if Texans keep pumping oil and driving pickup trucks.

The actions taken by these countries must also be the right ones. Vast sums of government money must be spent without wasting it and without lining the wrong pockets. Here it's useful to recall the Kafkaesque joke of the European Union's biofuel mandate, which served to accelerate the deforestation of Indonesia for palm-oil plantations, and the American subsidy of ethanol fuel, which turned out to benefit no one but corn farmers.

Finally, overwhelming numbers of human beings, including millions of government-hating Americans, need to accept high taxes and severe curtailment of their familiar life styles without revolting. They must accept the reality of climate change and have faith in the extreme measures taken to combat it. They can't dismiss news they dislike as fake. They have to set aside nationalism and class and racial resentments. They have to make sacrifices for distant threatened nations and distant future generations. They have to be permanently terrified by hotter summers and more frequent natural disasters, rather than just getting used to them. Every day, instead of thinking about breakfast, they have to think about death.

Call me a pessimist or call me a humanist, but I don't see human nature fundamentally changing anytime soon. I can run ten thousand scenarios through my model, and in not one of them do I see the two-degree target being met.

To judge from recent opinion polls, which show that a majority of Americans (many of them Republican) are pessimistic about the planet's future, and from the success of a book like David Wallace-Wells's harrowing "The Uninhabitable Earth," which was released this year, I'm not alone in having reached this conclusion. But there continues to be a reluctance to broadcast it. Some climate activists argue that if we publicly admit that the problem can't be solved, it will discourage people from taking any ameliorative action at all. This seems to me not only a patronizing calculation but an ineffectual one, given how little progress we have to show for it to date. The activists who make it remind me of the religious leaders who fear that, without the promise of eternal salvation, people won't bother to behave well. In my experience, nonbelievers are no less loving of their neighbors than believers. And so I wonder what might happen if, instead of denying reality, we told ourselves the truth.

First of all, even if we can no longer hope to be saved from two degrees of warming, there's still a strong practical and ethical case for reducing carbon emissions. In the long run, it probably makes no difference how badly we overshoot two degrees; once the point of no return is passed, the world will become self-transforming. In the shorter term, however, half measures are better than no measures. Halfway cutting our emissions would make the immediate effects of warming somewhat less severe, and it would somewhat postpone the point of no return. The most terrifying thing about climate change is the speed at which it's advancing, the almost monthly shattering of temperature records. If collective action resulted in just one fewer devastating hurricane, just a few extra years of relative stability, it would be a goal worth pursuing.

In fact, it would be worth pursuing even if it had no effect at all. To fail to conserve a finite resource when conservation measures are available, to needlessly add carbon to the atmosphere when we know very well what carbon is doing to it, is simply wrong. Although the actions of one individual have zero effect on the climate, this doesn't mean that they're meaningless. Each of us has an ethical choice to make. During the Protestant Reformation, when "end times" was merely an idea, not the horribly concrete thing it is today, a key doctrinal question was whether you should perform good works because it will get you into Heaven, or whether you should perform them simply because they're good—because, while Heaven is a question mark, you know that this world would be better if everyone performed them. I can respect the planet, and care about the people with whom I share it, without believing that it will save me.

More than that, a false hope of salvation can be actively harmful. If you persist in believing that catastrophe can be averted, you commit yourself to tackling a problem so immense that it needs to be everyone's overriding priority forever. One result, weirdly, is a kind of complacency: by voting for green candidates, riding a bicycle to work, avoiding air travel, you might feel that you've done everything you can for the only thing worth doing. Whereas, if you accept the reality that the planet will soon overheat to the point of threatening civilization, there's a whole lot more you should be doing.

Our resources aren't infinite. Even if we invest much of them in a longest-shot gamble, reducing carbon emissions in the hope that it will save us, it's unwise to invest all of them. Every billion dollars spent on high-speed trains, which may or may not be suitable for North America, is a billion not banked for disaster preparedness, reparations to inundated countries, or future humanitarian relief. Every renewable-energy mega-project that destroys a living ecosystem—the "green" energy development now occurring in Kenya's national parks, the giant hydroelectric projects in Brazil, the construction of solar farms in open spaces, rather than in settled areas—erodes the resilience of a natural world already fighting for its life. Soil and water depletion, overuse of pesticides, the devastation of world fisheries—collective will is needed for these problems, too, and, unlike the problem of carbon, they're within our power to solve. As a bonus, many low-tech conservation actions (restoring forests, preserving grasslands, eating less meat) can reduce our carbon footprint as effectively as massive industrial changes.

All-out war on climate change made sense only as long as it was winnable. Once you accept that we've lost it, other kinds of action take on greater meaning. Preparing for fires and floods and refugees is a directly pertinent example. But the impending catastrophe heightens the urgency of almost any world-improving action. In times of increasing chaos, people seek protection in tribalism and armed force, rather than in the rule of law, and our best defense against this kind of dystopia is to maintain functioning democracies, functioning legal systems, functioning communities. In this respect, any movement toward a more just and civil society can now be considered a meaningful climate action. Securing fair elections is a climate action. Combatting extreme wealth inequality is a climate action. Shutting down the hate machines on social media is a climate action. Instituting humane immigration policy, advocating for racial and gender equality, promoting respect for laws and their enforcement, supporting a free and independent press, ridding the country of assault weapons—these are all meaningful climate actions. To survive rising temperatures, every system, whether of the natural world or of the human world, will need to be as strong and healthy as we can make it.

And then there's the matter of hope. If your hope for the future depends on a wildly optimistic scenario, what will you do ten years from now, when the scenario becomes unworkable even in theory? Give up on the planet entirely? To borrow from the advice of financial planners, I might suggest a more balanced portfolio of hopes, some of them longer-term, most of them shorter. It's fine to struggle against the constraints of human nature, hoping to mitigate the worst of what's to come, but it's just as important to fight smaller, more local battles that you have some realistic hope of winning. Keep doing the right thing for the planet, yes, but also keep trying to save what you love specifically—a community, an institution, a wild place, a species that's in trouble—and take heart in your small successes. Any good thing you do now is arguably a hedge against the hotter future, but the really meaningful thing is that it's good today. As long as you have something to love, you have something to hope for.

In Santa Cruz, where I live, there's an organization called the Homeless Garden Project. On a small working farm at the west end of town, it offers employment, training, support, and a sense of community to members of the city's homeless population. It can't "solve" the problem of homelessness, but it's been changing lives, one at a time, for nearly thirty years. Supporting itself in part by selling organic produce, it contributes more broadly to a revolution in how we think about people in need, the land we depend on, and the natural world around us. In the summer, as a member of its C.S.A. program, I enjoy its kale and strawberries, and in the fall, because the soil is alive and uncontaminated, small migratory birds find sustenance in its furrows.

There may come a time, sooner than any of us likes to think, when the systems of industrial agriculture and global trade break down and homeless people outnumber people with homes. At that point, traditional local farming and strong communities will no longer just be liberal buzzwords. Kindness to neighbors and respect for the land—nurturing healthy soil, wisely managing water, caring for pollinators—will be essential in a crisis and in whatever society survives it. A project like the Homeless Garden offers me the hope that the future, while undoubtedly worse than the present, might also, in some ways, be better. Most of all, though, it gives me hope for today.

Jonathan Franzen is a frequent contributor to The New Yorker and the author of, most recently, the novel "Purity."

The Most Detailed Map of Auto Emissions in America - The New York Times


The Most Detailed Map of Auto Emissions in America

Transportation is the largest source of planet-warming greenhouse gases in the United States today and the bulk of those emissions come from driving in our cities and suburbs.

The map below shows a year's worth of CO2 from passenger and freight traffic on every road in the

or choose another metro area.

Austin, Texas, metro area

178%total emissions since 1990

12%per person emissions since 1990

Lower emissions

Higher emissions

Emissions from driving in the Austin, Texas, metro area grew faster than population between 1990 and 2017, which means emissions per person have increased.

These findings come from a New York Times analysis of new data released through Boston University's Database of Road Transportation Emissions. The database provides the most detailed estimates available of local on-road CO2 over the past three decades. The map above shows emissions in 2017.

Even as the United States has reduced carbon dioxide emissions from its electric grid, largely by switching from coal power to less-polluting natural gas, emissions from transportation have remained stubbornly high.

The bulk of those emissions, nearly 60 percent, come from the country's 250 million passenger cars, S.U.V.s and pickup trucks, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. Freight trucks contribute an additional 23 percent.

In 2017, transportation was the top source of greenhouse gases.

The vast majority of those emissions came from driving.

2.5 billion metric tons

Trains, planes, ships and other

Passenger vehicles

Reducing emissions from driving has been a big challenge, said Conor Gately, who led the project mapping CO2 on America's roads as a postdoctoral researcher at Boston University. Emissions dipped during the recession of the late 2000s, but have been ticking back up since 2013.

National fuel economy standards put in place under the Obama administration have helped temper the rise in automotive emissions because the rules require cars and trucks to use less gasoline per mile traveled. But even as vehicles have become more efficient, Americans, buoyed by a strong economy and low gas prices, have been driving more miles and buying more S.U.V.s and pickup trucks, which have lower gas mileage. Freight trucking is also on the rise.

The Trump administration is expected to finalize a rollback of efficiency standards for passenger vehicles this month, a move that could significantly increase future emissions from America's cars and trucks.

Emissions From Driving Have Grown
Fastest in America's Cities and Suburbs

Boston University's emissions database, first published in 2015 and updated this week with an additional five years of data, reveals that much of the increase in driving-related CO2 has occurred in and around cities.

Suburban driving, including commuting, has been a major contributor to the expanding carbon footprint of urban areas, Dr. Gately said.

But, he added, "Even in the densest cities, the vast majority of trips still happen in a motor vehicle." These trips include work commutes, school drop-offs and millions of other daily errands as well as freight deliveries and other business traffic, each of which contribute to planetary warming.

The New York Times identified the 100 metropolitan areas with the highest total emissions from driving, based on Boston University's local estimates:

Meaningfully lowering emissions from driving requires both technological and behavioral change, said Deb Niemeier, a professor of civil and environmental engineering at the University of Maryland. Fundamentally, you need to make vehicles pollute less, make people drive less, or both, she said.

Cities and states have sought to green the vehicles on their roads by providing tax incentives for electric and hybrid models, and by building more charging stations. California has the unique authority to set its own pollution standards for cars and trucks that are stricter than national rules, but the Trump administration is challenging this power.

Cities have also tried to reduce the amount people drive by encouraging carpooling, expanding transit options — including subways, light rail and rapid bus services — and planning denser, more accessible neighborhoods, too. In 2021, New York will become the first city in America to charge drivers a fee for entering highly congested areas.

"Every city has some workable strategies to lower vehicle related greenhouse gas emissions," Dr. Niemeier said, but the right mix depends on local conditions, including existing development patterns and infrastructure. "What works in New York City will not work in Dallas-Fort Worth," she said.

No matter the mechanism, Dr. Gately of Boston University said, "Big, long-term change needs to happen in America's cities."

Methodology

To create their database, Boston University researchers used federal traffic data to calculate the number of miles travelled on local segments of each road in the United States and converted those miles to carbon dioxide emissions by estimating how much fuel is consumed by different types of vehicles using those roads. The work was supported by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and NASA. More detail is available in a 2015 paper published in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. The updated dataset can be downloaded here.

An additional New York Times analysis used Boston University's on-road CO2 data and population figures from the National Institutes of Health and the U.S. Census Bureau to derive total and per capita emissions for each metropolitan area. The 2017 Census designation of counties that make up each metropolitan area was used to estimate historical populations for the metro.