Two turkey franks, hold the cheese

In response to “Burgernomics, indeed,” Leta asked me a good question: What’s the difference between eating chicken from a farm in Delaware and fresh broccoli from California’s Central Valley? (We live on the East Coast.) Isn’t trucking all that foliage cross-country less environmentally-friendly? Recent research by Christopher L. Weber and H. Scott Matthews attempts to answer that question. Their results are also discussed in a post by Jane Liaw. In short, Weber and Matthews’ findings are that it comes out the same, but for different reasons.

The Carnegie Mellon researchers looked at the life-cycle impact, from production to retail, in equivalent greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions, for the production of food for consumption in the United States, where food is analyzed as 50 commodities grouped into seven USDA-style categories. They use a methodology, informed by the work of Wassily Leontief, termed input−output life-cycle assessment (IO-LCA). Input-output analysis accounts for the fact that some goods are produced and shipped around only in order to make other goods for final consumption: chickens have to be fed corn that was grown somewhere else, broccoli has to be irrigated with water that has to be piped from somewhere else, and so forth. The approach aggregates across the country, so it’s not going to account for regional differences in production or consumption (compare the work of Colman and Päaster on wine production). Beyond that, I am limited in my ability to critique the methods of the paper.

The first figure that stands out from the paper is 12,000. That’s the number of equivalent ton-kilometers of freight, per household, required to meet food-demand in the U.S. in 1997. You could think of this as a monthly truckload of 1 metric ton of food (and products that went into making the food) travelling 1,000 km (600 miles) around the country, ending up at the supermarket, to feed a “typical family of four.” (The paper omits the “last mile” of transportation from store to home.) But only 25% of that freight mileage is part of the “direct” tier, from farm to retail. The remaining three-fourths is used in intermediate production.

When the numbers are crunched by food category, things get more interesting.

Final delivery (direct t-km) as a proportion of total transportation requirements varied from a low of 9% for red meat to a high of around 50% for fruits/vegetables, reflecting the more extensive supply chains of meat production (i.e., moving feed to animals) compared to human consumption of basic foods such as fruits/vegetables and grains.

But we’ve still got to work out the GHG impact. The researchers assign CO2-equivalences for ten modes of transport, including rail, truck, ocean (by container or bulk), air, and oil and gas pipeline (fertilizer feedstocks gotta get there somehow). Due to transmission losses, natural gas pipelines are only as efficient as trucks.

Once this calculation is made, the relative unimportance of local transport in the total picture begins to emerge.

Total GHG emissions are 8.1 t CO2e/household-yr, meaning delivery accounts for only 4% of total GHG emissions, and transportation as a whole accounts for 11%. Wholesaling and retailing of food account for another 5%, with production of food accounting for the vast majority (83%) of total emissions.

Within food production, which totaled 6.8 t CO2e/household-yr, 3.0 t CO2e (44%) were due to CO2 emissions, with 1.6 t (23%) due to methane, 2.1 t (32%) due to nitrous oxide, and 0.1 t (1%) due to HFCs and other industrial gases. Thus, a majority of food’s climate impact is due to non-CO2 greenhouse gases.

Okay, so what about the chicken-and-broccoli question? The paper presents the relative GHG effect by the seven commodity categories, scaled by weight, retail expenditure, and (most importantly, I believe) calorie content. By any of these measures, red meat comes out with the largest carbon footprint, followed by the milk and cheese category. Scaled by food energy content, the chicken/fish/eggs group matches the fruit and veg group.

The authors’ take-away message is that even a small change in diet can have a significant impact, given some additional reasonable assumptions. Just switching your calories for one day a week out of red meat and dairy and into veggies has the equivalent effect of a completely “localized” consumption habit.

… [but] this is conversely true for households which already exhibit low-GHG eating habits. For these households, freight emissions may be a much higher percentage of the total impacts of food, and especially will be important for fresh produce purchased out of season.

They also consider briefly the upswing in food imports into the U.S. Since ocean transport is relatively efficient (more than ten-to-one better than trucking), they infer that globalization has less of a deleterious effect than some fear.

It’s also worth noting that Weber and Matthews’ work is only concerned with GHG emissions. Other differential impacts on the environment by food category—for instance, land use, water quality, acid rain, noise pollution, and smog—are not part of their analysis.

A mystery: 3

Sommer Mathis clears up a mini-mystery for me: the original name of the Woodley Park Metro station (or Woodley Park-Zoo/Adams Morgan, if you must) was indeed Zoological Park. That explains the rail-to-bus transfer (in itself relic technology now) that I found in my deep book backlog; I was using it as a bookmark. It was stamped Zoological Park.

Cool running

Jonathan Erickson’s recent newsletter post for Dr. Dobb’s highlights a couple of the low-tech water development projects of Engineers without Borders: specifically, projects to bring clean drinking water to two villages in Honduras, designed and managed by USC students Liana Ching and Jackie Reed. Their scheme rests on

…a pair of 10,000-gallon storage tank[s] with a chlorination system (via tablets) upstream, away from the pollution.

But designing a system that would work in a remote village with no electricity is no small feat. The design they eventually came up with is a self-sustaining dam and water pump that uses paddles to carry water to a tank before it gets distributed by pipes to the villages.

“The students had to learn from scratch,” says Mansour Rahimi, their advisor and an associate professor of industrial and systems engineering. “There is no software, no tables or books on this.” Dana Sherman, a senior lecturer also in the industrial and systems engineering department, added that “the project involves so much more than just designing and installing a pump system…[it also involves] implementing a system that does not require consistent or difficult maintenance.”

Burgernomics, indeed

For the current issue of Scientific American, Nathan Fiala summarizes his own work as well as that of Susan Subak concerning the environment impact of producing beef, pork, and chicken—specifically, the contribution of livestock farming to greenhouse gases and hence to climate change. Some of the graphics include gratuitous elements or are poorly conceived, unfortunately something the magazine is becoming known for. But a key chart drives home the point: compared to vegetable production, growing meat makes a much bigger impact. While making a pound of potatoes entails generating 0.13 pound of CO2-equivalent gases, a pound of beef creates 57 times as much, 7.4 pounds of global warming gas. I would have preferred a closer apples-to-apples comparison that matched the various foodstuffs in terms of calories, and one that made it clear whether we’re talking food in the field or cooked, on the plate, but the force of the argument remains.

Fiala references the 2006 report from the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO): Livestock’s Long Shadow. Going beyond livestock’s climate change effects, the report documents meat’s huge environmental footprint:

  • Livestock farming covers 30% of the planet’s landmass.
  • It is responsible for 18% of worldwide carbon dioxide-equivalent gas emissions, more than that of the transportation sector.
  • 8% of global water use goes into beef, chicken, and pork agriculture.

So it’s not surprising that the authors write in the Executive Summary:

The livestock sector emerges as one of the top two or three most significant contributors to the most serious environmental problems, at every scale from local to global. The findings of this report suggest that it should be a major policy focus when dealing with problems of land degradation, climate change and air pollution, water shortage and water pollution and loss of biodiversity.

Livestock’s contribution to environmental problems is on a massive scale and its potential contribution to their solution is equally large. The impact is so significant that it needs to be addressed with urgency. Major reductions in impact could be achieved at reasonable cost.

Silver Line progress report: 4

Silver Line progress report: 4This notice of a public hearing before the Fairfax County Planning Commission is posted at the Wiehle Avenue park and ride lot. It reads, in part:

January 28, 2009 8:15 p.m.

METROPOLITAN WASHINGTON AIRPORTS AUTHORITY AND THE VIRGINIA DEPARTMENT OF RAIL AND PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION ON BEHALF OF WASHINGTON METROPOLITAN AREA TRANSIT AUTHORITY

* * *

To permit an electrically-powered regional rail transit facility and associated components.

The zoning exceptions for this station are designated “SPECIAL EXCEPTION APPLICATION SE 2008-HM-038
CONCURRENT WITH 2232-H08-014.” DPZ paperwork for the five planned stations is online.

Done moved on

A scent of hot dust, and some recollections are triggered. A sense memory that I’ve been meaning to write up for a while.

When I lived with my grandparents in Piqua, Ohio, in the mid 1960s, the Piqua Baptist Church sat at the northwest corner of Broadway and Greene Street. Dark, deep maroon-colored brick. Side entrance on Greene, which is where I usually entered. A Congregationalist church catercorner (no one could explain what was different about their faith), and another church (Catholic? Methodist?) up the block.

My grandparents were members, and one of my grandfather’s stewardship roles was non-resident caretaker of the facility. I think he preferred the term “custodian,” but frankly a lot of the work was janitorial. He was notorious for making the building a priority over everything else in his life; we had a tiff at my college graduation because he was anxious to get back home to check on the church. My grandmother helped him in his caretaking duties, and while I lived with them, I did, too. It was a painless way to earn my allowance.

Mostly what I did was to empty wastebaskets once a week. So I would make a circuit through the building, stopping in all the Sunday school rooms, the minister’s office, all around. Trash containers rank with stale lilies, used tissues, hardened chewing gum. The classrooms were arranged in a gallery along three sides of the basement multi-purpose room, with a kitchen at the other end. Walls faced with painted board and batten paneling. For the brief period of time that I was in Boy Scouts, our troop meetings were here. Stairways up to the rest of the church, and at the far end, a short flight to the furnace room, a convenient short cut back to the rest of the building.

The building was heated with a coal-fired furnace (hence my grandfather’s frequent trips to check on things). The furnace room was dark, but neither frightening nor particularly cosy. Just black dusty. From time to time, we all have the dream of moving through a familiar building, passing through rooms we’ve never seen before; for me, that dream usually begins in the church furnace room, where back in a corner is a door I’ve never seen before, that leads to someplace behind the baptistry, and on.

Back upstairs, facing the altar from the sanctuary, the baptistry was at the right, the minister’s office off left. The choir stood behind the altar. I don’t remember an organ, but there must have been one. Behind, and on the second story, were two rooms open to the sanctuary. I believe these were rooms set aside for mothers with infants, so that they could participate as much as possible without neglecting their babies. In one of these upper rooms I once found a booklet of devotions. The authors/editors were apparently holdouts from the Chicago Tribune’s spelling modernization plan, because each passage ended with a thot to be pondered.

Once I was finished with my chores, I would sit in the office, at the minister’s desk, and read whatever was available. Generally the calendars and addresses preserved under the glass desktop. I would play solitaire—that is, until my grandmother got wind of this. She didn’t actually call it “the Devil’s picture book,” but she made her feelings clear. (My grandfather, who would sometimes take me to play pool at his lodge, didn’t seem to mind.)

Each week my grandparents would dust the pews with ratty gray rags and fragrant polish. Once, I helped with a special project. In this church, communion wine was taken in individual glasses, in the pews. There were racks for the used glasses in the pew backs, on either side of the hymnal racks. I seem to recall three holes per rack. It seems that the clatter of all those cordial glasses being racked at the same time got to bothering someone, so one week I helped put rubber gaskets in the racks. Much quieter.

The church has since moved to a new building. The Broadway and Greene site is a parking lot.


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Almost two million people, seen from space

Via The Morning News, satellite imagery of the crowd(s) on the National Mall for yesterday’s ceremonies. What’s interesting about the picture is that you can see that people were clumped at the big video screens: it wasn’t the solid mass of people that it looked to be, foreshortened, from the Capitol. Also note the lack of bodies on the downhill slope west of the Monument, where the view would have obstructed.

Even though

And what amazes me as I hit the motorway is not the fact that everyone loses someone, but that everyone loves someone. It seems like such a massive waste of energy—and we all do it, all the people beetling along between the white lines, merging, converging, overtaking. We each love someone, even though they will die. And we keep loving them, even when they are not there to love any more. And there is no logic or use to any of this, that I can see.

Anne Enright, The Gathering, p. 28