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GoGreenNation News: Do Not Pin Your Hopes for Guilt-Free Hamburgers on Seaweed
GoGreenNation News: Do Not Pin Your Hopes for Guilt-Free Hamburgers on Seaweed

Upton Sinclair, author of the scathing 1906 meat industry exposé The Jungle, would later in his life coin a particularly useful aphorism: “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” But if you’ve been following news about the meat and dairy industries this fall, that aphorism might well be rearranged to this: It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his tastes depend on not understanding it.At a time when the corpses of dairy cattle felled by the H5N1 avian flu are left to rot on roadsides in California’s Central Valley and human cases of the disease creep upward, and when water-guzzling feed crops for beef and dairy are driving the American West’s worsening water crisis, the biggest stories about livestock in the national media in the past few months were downright effusive about the industry’s future: With a few small fixes to their diets, these stories promised, cows can transform from climate villains to climate heroes, ushering in an era of net-zero beef and dairy. This blend of science, public relations, and status quo bias might be the best window yet into the meat industry’s quest to prevent any serious discussion about the environmental and public health problems posed by animal agriculture. The recent positive press about cows revolves around a red algae seaweed native to Australia called Asparagopsis taxiformis. Over the past half-decade, a number of studies have been published showing that, under small-scale and short-term experimental conditions, adding dried and processed asparagopsis to cows’ feed on feedlots and dairy farms can massively diminish the amount of methane they belch into the atmosphere. Two of the most widely cited studies report reductions of up to 80 percent and up to a stunning 98 percent. The news media has dutifully covered these studies, usually taking them at face value. The Guardian alone has run stories about the promise of feed additives in 2021, 2023, and this past August; since then asparagopsis has also been covered by The Wall Street Journal and on NBC. (I was a guest on the NBC segment, where I presented a very short version of the argument in this article.)If feeding cows seaweed really did reduce their total emissions by 98 percent, and if asparagopsis production and distribution could be scaled globally, this sort of reduction would be a game-changer. But it’s not clear that the math actually holds up. Feed additives are only really effective mixed into processed feed, meaning they work best in industrialized systems where ruminants are confined and fed a prepared diet rather than when they’re grazing on pasture. Most beef cattle are slaughtered between 18 and 24 months of age and spend the majority of their lives on pasture, only being rounded up on feedlots for the last few months of their lives and fed corn, soy, and grasses like alfalfa. This feed is designed to fatten cattle to slaughter weight, but it’s also much easier to digest, meaning that most beef cattle will only emit about 11 percent of their lifetime emissions on feedlots. Dairy cows, meanwhile, live longer than beef cattle and are kept in barns for most of their lives, where they are inseminated, separated from their young, and milked for their productive lives. This means dairy cattle eat an almost all-feed diet, but it also means they emit relatively less over their lifetime than beef cattle because they’re not digesting roughage.Back in 2021, seeing the discrepancy between the reduction promised by headlines and press releases and the basic facts of cows’ life cycles, New York University environmental science professor Matthew Hayek and I did some back-of-the-envelope calculations and came up with far less promising numbers. Assuming an 80 percent reduction of emissions on feedlots, where cattle emit 11 percent of their methane, we figured that would make asparagopsis lead to lifetime emissions reductions of about 9 percent. Even that bombastic 98 percent reduction estimate—which hasn’t been replicated in any other studies—would still only result in about an 11 percent total emissions reduction. Hardly game-changing numbers.Since then, longer-term trials have showed our calculations were, if anything, too optimistic. A 300-day study of Wagyu cattle on a feedlot in Australia—Wagyu are allowed to live longer than standard American Angus cattle and spend longer on feedlots to develop the fatty tissues for which their carcasses are so prized—showed only a 28 percent reduction in methane over those 300 days. If we again assume that only 11 percent of the Wagyu’s lifetime emissions take place on feedlots, that means algae additives would reduce only 28 percent of 11 percent of lifetime emissions, amounting to a 3 percent total reduction. But even if we assume that Wagyu emit more of their lifetime emissions on feedlots instead—say, a third of their total emissions—a 28 percent reduction of one-third of lifetime emissions still comes out to around 9 percent: pretty much exactly what Hayek and I calculated. Either way, the math throws cold water on the hype.Feeding algae to beef cattle, in short, doesn’t do much. So algae proponents have switched to touting the possible benefits of feeding algae to dairy cattle instead. Here, the numbers from long-term trials are a little more optimistic but still fall far short of upending agriculture as we know it: a 25 percent lifetime reduction in a Norwegian study and 38 percent in an Australian one. However, the Norwegian study noted that dairy cattle fed asparagopsis had lower milk yield and high milk iodine content, leading its authors to question the viability of large-scale asparagopsis use. If feeding cows algae reduces the quality or quantity of the goods they produce, this plan might not make practical or economic sense.This math may seem tedious. But ultimately, claims about emissions reductions are claims about math. So the best way to evaluate these claims is by asking three questions. First, does the math add up? That’s what I’ve explained above: In this case, it doesn’t. Second, can the solution be scaled such that the math can apply globally and really make a dent in total emissions? Scholars have been asking questions about the feasibility of large-scale asparagopsis use ever since studies about it started being published, and the answer to these questions is far from clear. Asparagopsis is a tropical seaweed that acts as an invasive species if it spreads to new habitats, meaning that growing it in marine environments would be tricky. It lends itself best to on-land aquaculture cultivation, but the economics of scaling this technology and getting the seaweed to any meaningful fraction of the planet’s billion-plus cows would be a herculean undertaking. Another problem with scaling up would involve dose control: The reason that asparagopsis reduces cows’ methane is because it contains bromoform, which is toxic to humans and currently classified by the Environmental Protection Agency as a “probable human carcinogen.” Initial research suggests the risk to humans is pretty low if the initial dose to the cow is low. But that does mean doses given to cows would have to be low enough that this didn’t find its way into their milk.Third, how does the reduced-emissions product compare to alternatives? For beef and dairy coming out of the asparagopsis trials, the answer is: terribly. Reducing beef emissions by 3 percent, or even 9 percent, would still leave beef at least five times as greenhouse gas–intensive as other meats, and even more so than plant-based proteins like beans, tofu, or Impossible burgers. And even 38 percent-less-emitting dairy emits more greenhouse gas than soy milk. So even if asparagopsis could be scaled, beef and dairy would still be the most climate-unfriendly foods available. This shouldn’t be surprising given the physical qualities of ruminants, which simply can’t be erased with a sprinkle of fairy—sorry, seaweed—dust. It’s the cow, not the how, as it were.Given all this, there’s a real risk that focusing on algae and other feed additives will distract from true food-systems emissions reduction and, instead, help “greenwash” the animal agriculture industry—making it seem more environmentally friendly than it actually is. That may already be happening.Since at least 2006, when the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization published the “Livestock’s Long Shadow” report showing the magnitude of the global livestock industry’s environmental and climate impact, that industry has divided its time between trying to discredit the science and scientists linking its emissions to climate change and promising that it can reduce those very emissions. As academic, government, and public scrutiny of the climate impacts of food have only increased, the animal agriculture industry has responded by making broad and often unsubstantiated promises about lower-emissions products or even about becoming net-zero. It’s the clean coal debacle all over again. For instance, Tyson Foods has been marketing its Brazen Beef brand as more climate friendly. Matthew Hayek and I broke down the dubious math of those claims for The New Republic last year. Now Tyson is being sued for false advertising of Brazen by the Environmental Working Group. This comes on the heels of JBS, the Brazil-based meat giant, being sued in New York state for false advertising over making unsubstantiated claims about its ability to reach net-zero. Greenwashing matters not simply because it’s often based on spurious claims but because it aims to stave off regulation by showing policymakers that polluters are being proactive in lowering their carbon footprints. Greenwashing also serves, as the New York state suit against JBS argues, to “provide environmentally conscious consumers with a ‘license’ to eat beef.” In others words, as environmental science increasingly points to the need to drastically reduce the amount of beef and dairy in our diets, the promise that beef and dairy can instead be made greener might stop consumers or institutions concerned with climate change from changing what food they choose to buy. Greenwashing eases or erases the concerns that might spur change. And people want their concerns to be eased. This is what makes the story of asparagopsis so appealing: The public is hungry for anything but change.This impulse quickly becomes self-rationalizing. For example, some argue that humans will keep eating meat and drinking dairy, so we should at least try to make them more sustainable. This feels like basic common sense. But behind it lurks the very complacency that greenwashing is designed to fuel: the assumption that change is unnecessary, undesirable, and perhaps even impossible. All of the talk about seaweed—including all of this article so far—falls victim to a much bigger issue: a carbon tunnel vision that reduces environmental impacts and sustainability measurements only to emissions. Merely reducing emissions from beef and dairy—no matter how much—does nothing to offset its other impacts on soil and water, on labor, on the animals themselves, or on public health. And it doesn’t address one of the biggest ways beef and dairy exacerbate both emissions and other forms of environmental degradation: by driving deforestation, as wilderness is replaced with grazing lands and crops grown for animal feed. We not only need more laws and lawsuits cracking down on corporate greenwashing, but we need changes in agricultural policy, diets, and technology that will allow us to shift our food system away from livestock toward more sustainable alternatives.Seaweed, then, doesn’t just fail to reduce emissions as well as promised. It sucks the air out of productive debate. Hoping for any simple solution to hack complex food system problems distracts us from both the complexity and the magnitude of the changes necessary. Red algae, in other words, is a red herring.

GoGreenNation News: The Surreal Doublespeak of Big Tech at Climate Week
GoGreenNation News: The Surreal Doublespeak of Big Tech at Climate Week

I’m not a fan of New York City’s Climate Week. As I wrote last year, the annual programming timed to coincide with the United Nations General Assembly has “devolved into a marketing opportunity for all the worst capitalists.” This year, the prominence of heavily polluting tech companies among the sponsors—in a year when Kamala Harris, the most climate-friendly major party presidential candidate on offer, is emerging as a wholly owned subsidiary of Silicon Valley—is especially worrying. Is there no limit to the amount of abuse and gaslighting we will tolerate from the tech billionaire class?The theme for this year is “It’s Time.” In her opening address, Climate Week CEO Helen Clarkson emphasized the peril of delaying action on the climate crisis, warning that “history will judge us.” She imagined the people of the future asking, “How many warnings from scientists did they need? How many people needed to die in heat waves for them to believe what was happening?”But some major polluters—Apple, Google, and Meta—are on the list of Climate Week sponsors. These indignant future humans Clarkson imagines might also ask: Why did even those most concerned—the people dedicating their lives and careers to solving this problem—tolerate such bad actors, enabling big polluters to look like climate heroes? While its native California burns and thirsts, Meta—though it has attempted to confuse the public on this point—has by some measures increased its greenhouse gas emissions steadily since 2019, spewing more than 14 million metric tons of carbon last year. Many of us fret about our personal carbon footprint—and sure, we should—but Meta’s is the equivalent of three million individual humans’. Though Meta has been proactive about renewable energy, including geothermal, its data centers are still largely dependent on fossil fuels. It’s still recklessly pouring energy into planet-killing and pointless A.I. Despite constant wildfires, heat waves, and drought and unprecedented public awareness of what is causing such symptoms of crisis, Meta’s carbon footprint is worse now than it was in 2020. In addition to being a giant energy suck, Meta is also a climate offender in its role as an information source: Numerous advocates, climate scientists, and journalists have said that Meta suppresses climate information and boosts denialist disinformation. Meta has called some of these instances a “security error.”By its own admission, Google has also increased its carbon emissions by 13 percent in 2023 alone, to 14.31 million metric tons, about the same as Meta’s. That’s a whopping 50 percent since 2019, and with similar causes to Meta’s: energy use of the data centers that power its A.I. Last year, Apple boasted about its green commitments and achievements in one of the most cringe ads ever, in which “Mother Nature,” played by Octavia Spencer, shows up to a team meeting and yells at them, and walks away placated, even impressed after hearing about the company’s reforestation work and the alleged carbon neutrality of its new Apple Watch. I’m not the first to feel embarrassed for the company every time I watch this ad: Others have called it “greenwashing” and the “Mother of All Virtue Signals.”Undeterred, Apple published a lofty white paper earlier this year deeming its global corporate operations “carbon neutral.” The company’s “Environmental Progress Report” in April boasted of reducing its emissions by 55 percent since 2015. Yet the company’s carbon footprint is even a little bit higher than Google’s or Meta’s, at 16.1 metric tons. Joseph Romm, a senior research fellow at University of Pennsylvania’s Center for Science, Sustainability and the Media, has said that Apple’s definition of “carbon neutrality” is arbitrary and unambitious, relying on offsets, which are such a scam that much of the private sector—even Shell and Nestle, not exactly shining paragons of the triple bottom line—has given up on them. Much of what’s holding back progress for these companies—besides the blinding entitlement of a Silicon Valley culture that believes fervently that it is saving the world just by existing—is A.I. I’ve previously discussed the horrific environmental and climate costs of the technology, and the lengths to which tech companies are going to avoid public disclosure of those costs. They can spout on all they like about renewables and forests, but the fact is that A.I. is vastly complicating the shift away from fossil fuels and even perpetuating our coal use because the data centers the technology requires put so much pressure on the grid.All three companies—Meta, Google, and Apple—have a net zero-goal for 2030, and all three are moving in exactly the opposite direction, poster children for the meaninglessness of such goal setting. Together, they have a carbon footprint greater than many countries’.After record heat this summer, as a hurricane barrels into Florida and much of the West remains on fire, the standards for climate discourse and “climate action” should be higher. Exxon Mobil isn’t listed as a Climate Week sponsor, and other big polluters and purveyors of climate disinformation shouldn’t be able to launder their reputations by sponsoring Climate Week either. Big Tech is enjoying a moment of liberal legitimacy, with presidential nominee Kamala Harris benefiting from its campaign largesse. But, coming back to Climate Week’s theme, “it’s time” to recognize these companies for the noxious environmental offenders they are.

GoGreenNation News: ‘Climate Tech’ is a meaningless buzzword. Let’s do this instead
GoGreenNation News: ‘Climate Tech’ is a meaningless buzzword. Let’s do this instead

“Climate tech” isn’t a thing. It has shifted in recent years from a category to define clean energy companies to an umbrella phrase that loses meaning the more we use it. Granted, the term is everywhere: inserted into VC pitch decks, plastered on billboards along highways from San Francisco to Austin to Boston, wedged into government policy papers, and featured prominently on conference agendas. Media properties from CNBC to GreenBiz rely on it as a traffic-driving category. And there’s a reason why. A changing climate is the most complex and vast challenge and opportunity confronting our society today. That also means we can’t afford ambiguity. We need accountability. We need progress. We need to reengineer infrastructure with advanced tech that future-proofs as it solves urgent and complex problems. Now. Which means we need precision. And we need to acknowledge that infrastructure and markets that have served us for so long are failing—and in need of rebuilding to anticipate and meet future challenges. Our world is in desperate need of solutions tied to specific applications and impact across energy tech, waste tech, food tech, and carbon tech. We need solutions that advance specific areas of deeply specialized work with distinct metrics and challenges like energy storage, batteries, food security, and sustainable fuel development. And, we need talent trained and sharpened to tackle these specific problems. Ambiguity is the enemy of progress Progress requires clarity. Energy technology is a distinct thing. Waste technology is a distinct thing. Transportation technology, energy storage, agriculture and food sustainability, carbon removal—these are specific categories with definable challenges and measurable outcomes. Each is firmly tied to infrastructure and requires dedicated engineering, specialized expertise, and different pools of capital. For example, grid storage is not a “climate tech” problem—it’s a specific energy challenge with concrete metrics: cost per kilowatt-hour, storage capacity, duration, and efficiency. Grid storage is about optimizing supply and demand, the outcome of which is a financial, political, and engineering goal, not a moral imperative. We must connect the promise and hype of AI-powered software solutions to their physical applications in the real world. Why? Because solving these big, specific problems requires more than computation behind a screen. Realizing the promise of AI to transform and improve is only possible if it enters the physical realm and changes the mechanics of existing ways of doing things. Calling the solutions to these problems “climate tech” is a disservice to the work because it no longer adequately captures the scale and range of what’s required. Breaking “climate tech” down to drive breakthroughs We need to build and invest in technologies that are better, faster, cheaper than what came before and solve real problems—rather than loaded words that offer environmental promise and not much else. The trajectory of biotech offers a solid framework. Rather than lumping everything under a term like “health tech,” industry pioneers stood up clearly defined categories, including: immunotherapy, CRISPR, mRNA vaccine development, oncology, longevity, and so on. Each domain pursued a specific set of problems and attracted talent and capital to solve them. The result? Breakthroughs. Whether we realize it or not, software also focused in recent years, which has helped to accelerate progress. Information technology gave way to specific technical disciplines like cybersecurity, cloud computing, and enterprise tools. Category focus allowed companies to gain market share and differentiate with customer experience and accountability front-and-center. It’s time that “climate tech” undergoes the same level of rigorous redefinition. And it’s not just because we’re approaching critical climate “tipping points” (which we are). It’s because the economic opportunity cost of not acting is too great. The future of American communities and industries from agriculture to manufacturing rests on our ability to effectively seize the opportunities in front of us and reengineer them. Everything needs to be built for the future with engineering precision and a specific problem in mind to solve. We need infrastructure and hardware solutions to solve focused problems like recycling plastic for manufacturing, rendering cement carbon-neutral, electrifying freight transport, rethinking protein production, and removing carbon at scale. We cannot grow the economy in the future without approaching all tech as climate tech. For example, the investment firm I cofounded, Incite, invested in Monarch, a startup with a fleet of AI-powered electric vehicles and tech solutions that work for agricultural clients ranging from dairy farmers to municipalities to winemakers. Monarch recently shipped MonarchOne™, an end-to-end physical AI platform for OEMs to more efficiently manage work and use data to influence operations across environments. Monarch isn’t a “climate tech” company. It’s an AI and robotics company with clear environmental benefits. Working toward a post-”climate tech” world “Climate tech” served its purpose as an initial rallying cry. It placed an urgent crisis squarely on the map of capital markets, boardrooms, and policy agendas. It made innovation to help us take care of our planet inevitable. Totally unsurprisingly, however, grouping a product or tech into the vague category enables more greenwashing and ambiguity when what we need is progress, focus, and accountability. In order to scale up the grid, add resilience to infrastructure, and prevent the housing market from insurance collapse, we need to retire not just the language but the entire categorization of “climate tech” completely. We must dismantle the umbrella term into specific, infrastructure-centered areas in need of urgent work. Let’s refine our language. Words matter. Tech is crucial to curbing negative environmental impacts. But the utility of “climate tech” is running on fumes. Let’s stop pretending it’s still a thing—and seize the opportunity to build and invest in the physical infrastructure, software, apps, and technologies that will power economic opportunities and enrich life around the world.

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