Sophia Beem
Erin Nibeck
Contributors
Mia Bartletti
Izzy Gardy
Michael Gergeni
Madison Hansen
Rachel Kibler
Emily Mair
Minal Sarkar
Julia Spainhour
Calla Sundquist
Gavin Volker
Joya Weissman
This winter break, I was fortunate enough to make the trek to New Zealand’s south island for about twelve days. The scenery I encountered surpassed all expectations, but unfortunately, New Zealand’s stunning landscapes are not immune to the farreaching effects of climate change. The glaciers of New Zealand, including the iconic Tasman Glacier (Fig. 1&2), stand as stirring markers of the environmental upheaval that our planet currently faces. As global temperatures rise— having already surged by approximately 1.2°C since pre-industrial times—the repercussions on these frozen giants are becoming increasingly evident.
There are around 3,000 glaciers in New Zealand, each offering valuable insights into the changing climate. Since 1977, monitoring efforts by institutions such as the National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research (NIWA) and Victoria University of Wellington have involved meticulous aerial surveys to gauge glacier health. Disturbingly, recent data paints a grim picture.
By 2017, a staggering 30% of New Zealand’s glacial mass had vanished. The rate of thinning has escalated dramatically, now occurring at seven times the pace observed two decades ago. These drastic losses are undeniably
linked to climate change, with scientists warning that at the current trajectory, New Zealand’s glaciers could disappear entirely by the year 2100.
The ramifications of this glacial decline extend far beyond mere loss of scenic beauty. The formation of glacial lakes, exemplified by the Tasman glacial lake, serves as a stark reminder of the vanishing freshwater stores upon which countless ecosystems and communities rely. Glacial meltwater serves as a crucial resource for irrigation and hydropower, supporting agricultural activities and energy generation. Moreover, the disappearance
of glaciers contributes to rising sea levels, exacerbating the threat of coastal flooding.
In addition to the profound impacts on New Zealand’s glaciers, climate change poses significant challenges for the country’s unique native wildlife, including the iconic Kea, the world’s only alpine-dwelling parrots. Adapted to cold climates, Kea face unprecedented threats as their alpine habitat undergoes dramatic changes due to global warming.
As temperatures rise, New Zealand’s alpine zone is expected to shrink by up to 80%. This shift allows trees to thrive at
The formation of glacial lakes, exemplified by the Tasman glacial lake, serves as a stark reminder of the vanishing freshwater stores upon which countless ecosystems and communities rely.
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higher altitudes, encroaching upon the rocky landscape that forms the Kea’s natural habitat. Furthermore, warmer temperatures contribute to the proliferation of Kea’s predators, such as stoats, cats, rats, and possums.
Climate change is also predicted to increase the frequency of mast years, during which native beech forest and tussock grasslands produce abundant seeds, leading to a surge in predator populations. This heightened predation pressure diminishes the survival rates of Kea. Limited genetic variability within the estimated 3,000 to 7,000 remaining Kea in the wild exacerbates the situation, as smaller populations are less adept at adapting to environmental changes.
In essence, the challenges faced by New Zealand’s glaciers and its native wildlife serve as a sobering reminder of the urgency for climate action. From the vanishing ice of the glaciers to the uncertain future of the Kea, the interconnectedness of these environmental challenges highlights the importance of collective action in preserving the natural wonders of our planet. Only through concerted efforts and a shared commitment to environmental stewardship can we ensure a sustainable legacy for future generations.
“You Are Also the Earth”
The Fair Housing Act (FHA), or Title VIII of the Civil Rights Act of 1968, came about in the climate of social uprooting of the 1960s that we reflect upon almost 60 years later, as a way to prevent a future of housing segregation and discrimination in one of the most basic human necessities –a home.
In the same backdrop of segregation that necessitated legislating fair housing practices into existence, we see the sprawling legacy of environmental injustice
everywhere. Environmentally unjust practices we have become all too familiar with – redlining, urban pollution, disinvestment, and unjust zoning regulations – and the lasting effects they have (specifically on racialized communities, people with disabilities, and all those of a lower socio-economic status) are perpetuated by a lack of housing opportunities and protections that the FHA seeks to fix.
In Chicago last spring, the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) and the city of Chicago came to a monumental agreement, finally. After several years of civil rights complaints to the HUD from the South, Southeast, and West sides of Chicago, the city finally relented and admitted to environmental racism in its zoning and landuse policies. Investigators from HUD found that, among several other issues, the city was encouraging polluters to set up shop in neighborhoods with already-worsened pollution problems and granting permits for environmentally-unsafe businesses in those same neighborhoods.
Let’s look a little deeper.
Environmental racism in Chicago has a very long history. Housing discrimination has a very long history in Chicago as well. The two often go hand-inhand – where there are unjust housing practices, we often see that there are also loosened zoning restrictions on nearby polluters, and the areas of the city with the most HUD complaints and discrimination claims are often in areas notorious for environmental injustices.
“Where there are unjust housing practices, we often see that there are also loosened zoning restrictions on nearby polluters”
Their interconnected history is no mistake nor coincidence. Below, we’ll take a quick look at aldermanic prerogative –a frequently overlooked, but incredibly important cause of the two evils’ relationship.
This one is a real stinker. Aldermanic prerogative, sometimes called aldermanic privilege, is the power of aldermen to block certain
city actions concerning their respective wards.It is not often codified into city council rules, more often built on de facto understandings between city administrators and aldermen for their approval on other priorities. Historically used for such endeavors like falsifying alcohol consumption rates during the Prohibition era, it has since been relegated to a role chiefly associated with zoning decisions.
Aldermanic prerogative, in this new role, has become a tool to deny affordable housing in their wards. As a result, wealthy, typically white neighborhoods rarely construct new housing. The worst part, this prerogative also applies to businesses. The result of that, similar to that of housing, is what we saw for the past couple decades in Chicago – wealthy wards veto (through their aldermanic prerogative) the construction of polluting businesses, and they are forced to open, instead, in poorer neighborhoods, the same ones who have also been given all the proposals for affordable housing (through the aldermanic prerogative of wealthier wards).
The worst part, this prerogative also applies to businesses. The result of that, similar to that of housing, is what we saw for the past couple decades in
Chicago – wealthy wards veto (through their aldermanic prerogative) the construction of polluting businesses, and they are forced to open, instead, in poorer neighborhoods, the same ones who have also been given all the proposals for affordable housing (through the aldermanic prerogative of wealthier wards).
The power this prerogative has, as the HUD noted, perpetuates segregation and racially motivated opposition to affordable housing, furthermore, it also reinforces the structural aspect of environmental justice. It takes advantage of the necessity
of housing to force those who can only afford low-income housing into high-pollution areas. Where its direct function is restricted, we see aldermen work around regulations by making preemptive zoning decisions to restrict proposals to poorer wards before proposals are even thought of (this is a separate problem, referred to as “downzoning”, also through aldermanic prerogative).
The current situation in the South and West sides of Chicago is a prime example of this. As the HUD alleges in their complaint, the city plays an instrumental role in “steering
polluters” to poorer neighborhoods, most often also those with Black or Latine majority populations and higher concentrations of low-income housing. For instance, three General Iron metal-shredding operations were about a recently approved project allegedly moved from Lincoln Park, a wealthy North side neighborhood, to 116th street, on the South side (through aldermanic prerogative on Lincoln Park’s behalf). Earlier this month, another complaint was made by Latine residents on the West side that would haul in over 650 tons of garbage from majority white suburbs like Naperville and Wheaton.
“What the North, the affluent, and predominantly white doesn’t want gets vetoed or delimited until someone can’t say no.”
These, among several other complaints of similar nature of stenches, breathing problems, and contaminated water are the current situation in most of Chicago. What the North, the affluent, and predominantly white doesn’t want gets vetoed or delimited until someone can’t say no. Both affordable housing proposals and polluting centers end up next to each other, and environmental injustice continues.
But the agreement between the city and the HUD is progress. The city has since pledged to reform its zoning and land-use policies, create an “environmental justice action plan,” including a “citywide assessment of environmental and health impacts.” As an added incentive, the HUD is threatening to withhold $375 million in federal grants and funding if the city doesn’t comply in making both housing practices fairer and environmentally safer. In the meantime, residents remain litigious in holding the city accountable in their own terms.
Slanted earth slides into a mossy deep at the edge of the pond. In the soft ambiguity of night, the water is calm and dark and more alive than ever. The frogs are bold and loud in their warbling, like plucking a loose string of a banjo. Insects and critters hum along ritualistically. It’s a small pond, but the murky center carries a haunting vastness. Moments held by generations of my family, the farmers who made this place long ago, swirl in a cloudy past at the pond that I have learned was never meant to be here.
This pond was man-made, just like the nearby lake and the surrounding nature preserve. This thriving ecosystem, where I have known the earth, where the earth has known me, is not the century-sunken escape I imagined it to be. Illinois is not the landscape it once was. By 1900, most of Illinois’ prairies were gone. Stripped and plowed and consumed for agriculture. A more distant past secured this demise. The great glacial epoch left behind deposits of windblown silt and minerals. This retreat many thousands of years ago cultivated the fertile soils that would support a new agricultural industry.
I come from farmers on both sides. I imagine their hands, like mine, breaking this earth. Making it give more and more. They built this beautiful pond, damming the tiny creek to suit their needs with no regard for the plants and animals spinning their midnight melody under this same moonlight.
Across this prairie, throughout the Midwest and beyond, they repeated this cycle again and again. They did so upon arrival to feed their families and forge livelihoods, and continued through to the present, building family businesses and taking pride in helping to feed the world. They did not understand that their methods, the very system of large-scale agriculture, fundamentally changed the ecosystem of Illinois. But you could not look at my grandfather as he hoists himself off of his 4x2 Gator after his morning chores on the few acres he tends to, windruffled and tired and grinning like a kid, and tell me that he does not love this earth.
I always used to see the pond as a resistance to the surrounding fields, a specially placed environment defying the monotonous middle-ofnowhere corn and soybean landscape. I remember sticky summer afternoons spent creeping along the marshy edge, hands cupped stalking frogs, delighted at their angry chirps as they disappeared under the algae. Intertwined with this are my father’s stories, haunting reminders of a time when his uncle used to kill all the bullfrogs of the pond to silence their chorus when they got too loud. Then they would have a frog fry, deeply unsettling my father as a child. I remember collecting turtles and beetles and toads and throwing rocks, amidst fragments of stories of my father learning to fish when the pond teemed with crappie and largemouth bass. But this bounty was artificially stocked there and those big fish were unable to survive long in the shallow depths.
I remember shuffling out onto the pond when winter encased it in a sheath of ice, sliding impossibly close to the dark center, the surrounding trees crystallized and glinting with snow. I could almost hear the shrieks of my father and his siblings and cousins, my aunts and uncles, as they sled down the hill and skid across the ice. I remember sitting by the water with my knees pulled up to my chest after watching my grandmother die from brain cancer in the house up the hill. I remember breathing in and out slowly, feeling the grass sway, the pond grieving with me.
Now, I spread my hands in the dirt, feeling the earth sink under the pressure of my fingertips. What can seem so old and powerful is also so delicate, so malleable to human influence. Maybe it’s complicated. Maybe we come from farmers and trodden wildness but we also come from the epic glaciers that made this place rich, the silt in the soil, and the glazed over green of the waters of March. We are younger than we think, me and this pond. I listen to the frogs sing me their discordant lullaby and breathe in and out, sitting with the pond in both its fragility and its resistance.
“How can this get any worse?” is a question that is frequently asked when new data is found indicating that wealth inequality is growing or many Gen Z’ers will never be able to own a home. The response is often either “It can’t” or “You just wait.” This article’s response is the latter. When people analyze the
consequences of the ongoing climate crisis, they (rightfully) mention how it is devastating ecosystems but rarely make analysis on the less obvious impacts. One major but often unrecognized impact is that climate change will have you working until you die. What follows is not an in-depth telling of all that will
affect one’s retirement but instead a digestible overview. Unfortunately, we have to learn about one of the most dull parts of finance first: insurance. The insurance industry regularly rotates between hard and soft markets. A hard market is when insurance providers raise the price of your monthly payments and oftentimes reduce coverage, a soft market is understandably the opposite. Markets harden and obtaining insurance becomes more difficult after companies lose money from paying out more in claims than they are bringing in. The market has been hard for the past few years and is expected to only get worse. This is very bad for you, reader. That means that not only gaining insurance but also keeping it will become harder and harder.
According to an Axios report published last year, severe storms across the U.S. contributed to the recordbreaking number of $34 billion in insured losses in the first six months of 2023. As climate change worsens and climate-related disasters occur more frequently (and with greater severity), insurance becomes increasingly unaffordable and coverage lackluster. Insurance companies are already
declaring certain coastal areas uninsurable due to the increased risk of loss from storms and floods. The companies that are not pulling out of areas are likely either raising prices for coverage or quietly increasing prices in safer areas to subsidize those expected future losses. More and more people will be pushed out of the insurance market and have to shoulder the risk of property loss.
In 2023, we saw wildfires ravage areas around the world. Emissions from the 2023 worldwide fires are estimated to be around 410 megatonnes (or 410,000,000 tons). This activity generates a cyclical effect where more emissions lead to worse climate disasters which release more emissions. We should also be considering the health effects of particulate matter pollution being kicked up into the air. A study published shows, not only that wildfires increase particulate matter pollution, but that particulate matter released from forest fires are 3-4 times as toxic compared to most other types. The same study goes in depth on hospitalizations linked to breathing in wildfire smoke. In short, it greatly increases the risks associatedwith asthma, COPD, pneumonia, and a
litany of other respiratory diseases. It should not be a surprise to anyone also leads to an increase in medical that an increase in hospitalizations debt for the unfortunate individuals subjected to the United States healthcare system. The non-profit Kaiser Family Foundation conducted a study and found that 48% of those with healthcare debt have “used up all or most of their savings”, 40% have “taken an extra job or worked more hours”, and 29% have “taken money out of retirement, college, or other long-term savings accounts”.
Outlined above are only two of the many ways in which an accelerated changing climate pushes the average person deeper into financial precarity. With an increased risk of property loss and heightened chances of obtaining debt through hospitalization, all it takes is a single event to wipe away any savings for retirement one might’ve had. This is where climate change becomes especially advantageous for companies. With more people becoming economically harmed, the labor market grows. Not only are workers able to be paid less with the increase in supply, but companies’ abilities to exploit them also increase as people become more desperate.
This article does not follow the trope of ending with a paragraph full of solutions. The fact of the matter is that the implications of climate change have much more depth than any of us could possibly imagine. I implore you to consider some of the many underreported ways that climate change will affect our daily lives, consider it an exercise in critical thinking. Spread your findings and pray that you pierce the hearts of others. Find community by joining climate advocacy groups and making real, tangible changes. Remember that you can better the world, but never alone. Lastly, never think that you cannot do something. Pessimism is a tool of oppression but hope is revolutionary.
“Never think that you cannot do something. Pessimism is a tool of oppression but hope is revolutionary.”
Capitalism vs. the World
For the first time in recorded history, the Earth’s temperature averaged 1.5° higher than preindustrial times over a 12-month period, a benchmark which causes considerable concern among scientists and the world community at large. This news comes out of the European Union’s climate monitoring service as of February 8th, accompanied by reports that January 2024 has been the hottest January on record. So the question we arrive at is, is it time to panic?
This past year, however, does indicate a significant warning sign, demonstrating the need to take bold climate action, and quickly.
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Famously, the 2015 Paris Agreement set a clear goal: global warming should stay limited to 1.5° in order to avoid dangerous climate risk, and 2.0° to steer clear of catastrophe. To be clear, the benchmark we hit in this past year does not breach this goal, and achieving it is still possible. To do so, the Earth would have to stay at the 1.5° average temperature for a longer period of time, up to even a decade (disagreement exists over the exact timing). This past year, however, does indicate a significant warning sign, demonstrating the need to take bold climate action, and quickly.
El Niño
The development of El Niño last year was another contributing factor in the rise in average temperature. El Niño is a naturally occurring event in which trade winds weaken, warming the waters in the eastern tropical Pacific Ocean. Occurring every two to seven years, El Niño results in significant changes to climate patterns across the globe, including heavy rainfall in some parts of the
world, droughts in others, and overall, increases in atmospheric temperatures. The event took full force in November 2023, and is expected to persist until spring of this year. While the first recorded history of El Niño begins in the 1500s, studies have shown that human-induced global warming has likely amplified the impacts of these routine events in recent years. Either way, it’s important to note the influence that El Niño has had in the past year’s climate measurements.
Most climate scientists agree that passing the 1.5° threshold is inevitable in coming years. At this point, the global community is largely shifting its priorities away from trying to stay under 1.5°, and rather placing more emphasis on minimizing the magnitude and duration of the overshoot. Any increment of warming past 1.5°C only makes more dire the effects of climate change, including a rise of intense droughts, hurricanes, and wildfires. Additionally, the longer it stays at these high temperatures, the more that feedback loops perpetuate cataclysmic outcomes.
Others are leaning on the optimal side, although cautiously. As written by the Scientific American, “World leaders, activists and some scientists say the 1.5 C target is still feasible—barely, but at least it’s technically possible. But it would require an immediate and colossal effort to bring emissions down, by at least 45 percent over the next 10 years.”
While the utter inevitability of hitting the threshold is up for debate, last year’s 1.5° average is a clear warning sign of where we’re headed. Instead of panicking, what this means is that it’s time, now more than ever, to fight for radical change.
By: Calla Sundquist
An examination of climate change and the rising emergency to the planet.
A detailed inside look at the art of bonsai and the human connection to trees.
A glimpse into the wildlife of Saudi Arabia featuring many animals including sea turtles and onyx.
What exactly is sustainability? What does being sustainable look like and how can students achieve it?
I’m Madison Hansen, a student at University of Illinois studying Environmental Economics and Policy, and I interviewed several university employees to gain some insight on the different perspectives surrounding this idea. The first topic of discussion was “How would you define sustainability” and, as expected, I received a wide variety of responses. Rosie Metallo, Assistant Director for the Plant Care Facility here on campus, described sustainability as “a culture being environmentally responsible to help foster a better future.” An important highlight of this definition is the idea of the future. To be sustainable is to have an idea of how our actions today will affect us later down the line.
“A culture being environmentally responsible to help foster a better future.”
Monte Flack, a Research Greenhouse Specialist, talked about how sustainability means to “keep
going and preserve itself.” Luke Freyfogle, our second Research Greenhouse Specialist, referred to sustainability as “the conservation of resources overtime.” Rhea Chawla, a Lab and Field Technician, had a similar idea and stated sustainability as “practices that help conserve resources for the future.”
So, what does this mean? Who has the correct idea here? To keep it short, there is no perfect definition. Sustainability is all these definitions, and more. To put such a large and vast topic into a single single box is difficult, but the most important takeaway is that the work we put in today towards being sustainable is crucial to our future.
Ok, so now we have the definition covered, how exactly do we go about achieving this idea of sustainability? How can the average student make an impact on our campus’ overall environmental footprint? Rosie Metallo focused on campus clubs and organizations, and stated that she thinks it’s “important to not only work individually but to work as a group to be more environmentally friendly and look to join different stewardship movements on campus.” This is a great point, and there are clubs such as Students for Environmental Concerns, the Student Sustainability Committee, and many others working towards making campus ecofriendly. Monte Flack focused on recycling, and he also mentioned how he himself recycles PVC pipes into planters, stating that he has “over
50 planters!” This is an amazing step; one individual saved several pieces of piping from going to the landfills. Now imagine if 50 people did the same thing, recycling is crucial in our movement to be sustainable. Luke Freyfogle mentioned “cutting back on screen time.” The more screens in use, the more energy and electricity is needed to power said devices. Along with this, the time we spend on our computers or phones could be spent helping our communities. Rhea Chawla mentions trends and how students need to use “what they already have rather than purchasing new ‘sustainable’ items.”
Fast fashion and trend cycles are one of
the largest contributors to waste. Some recent examples include Stanley cups, Shein, Amazon, fast food, etc. It is critical that as individuals we limit our usage of these outlets and how much we buy.
Though sustainability isn’t something that can be achieved overnight, it is still vital to consider our daily tasks and actions. The small steps we take today will lead to large leaps towards our future goals, the best way to achieve this is through introspection. Nobody has the perfect solution, but the first step should be to ask yourself, what can I do today to be more sustainable?
