Shell Builds Algae Biofuel Plant in Hawaii
=========================================================================
originally posted at:
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601102&sid=ahSsmDmNPDXk&refer=uk
Shell, Biopetroleum to Build Algae Plant to Make Fuel (Update2)
By Eduard Gismatullin and Marianne Stigset
Dec. 11 (Bloomberg) -- Royal Dutch Shell Plc, Europe's largest oil company, and HR Biopetroleum will build an algae- growing plant in Hawaii to produce vegetable oil for biofuels.
The two companies have set up a joint venture, Cellana, to develop the project and will start by constructing a pilot facility, Shell said today in a statement. The partners say algae will absorb carbon dioxide, a gas blamed for global warming.
Algae ``can double their mass several times a day and produce at least 15 times more oil per hectare than alternatives such as rape, palm soya or jatropha,'' Shell said. It ``can be cultivated in ponds of seawater, minimizing the use of fertile land and fresh water.''
Shell said it may target the European Union market once production comes on stream in two years' time. The 27-nation bloc wants biofuels to make up an average 5.75 percent of transportation fuels by 2010 and 10 percent by 2020. Biofuels account for about 1 percent of EU fuel consumption today, according to Oxford, England-based charity Oxfam.
Algae can be used as a feedstock to make diesel-type fuels, Graeme Sweeney, Shell's executive vice president for future fuels, said. Transport-fuel demand will rise 45 percent from 2006 levels to more than 60 million barrels a day by 2030, with the share of biofuels expanding to 7 percent from 1 percent, according to the company.
Project Expansion
Shell, based in The Hague, plans to expand the 2.5-hectare (269,000 square foot) pilot project to a 1,000-hectare facility after two years and later to a ``full-scale commercial,'' 20,000- hectare plant, Sweeney said on a conference call with reporters. He declined to comment on planned investment.
Biodiesel constitutes 80 percent of EU biofuels, according to research company Frost & Sullivan Inc.
The algae project ``offers the opportunity in due course to meet the volume required in Europe,'' Sweeney said.
The seaweed is expected to produce 60 tons of oil per hectare, a ``conservative figure,'' according to Sweeney. That compares with an average of 4 tons of oil per hectare for jatropha.
Shell intends to produce ``very high grade diesel'' from the oil and is ``looking for routes to reach the higher end of the quality spectrum,'' Sweeney said of the so-called cold filter plugging point. The CFP shows the temperature at which oil freezes, which can be as high as 11 degrees Celsius (52 Fahrenheit) for palm oil.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
A Hail Mary Against Global Warming?
=====================================================================================
originally posted at:
http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2008/04/02/geoengineering/print.html
The sun blotted out from the sky
Global warming demands more than do-gooder actions. It demands
"geoengineering" -- like blocking the sun's rays with stratospheric dirt.
By Elizabeth Svoboda
Apr. 02, 2008 | Gregory Benford thinks Al Gore's a good guy and all, but he
also thinks the star of "An Inconvenient Truth" is a little delusional.
Driving a hybrid car, switching your bulbs to compact fluorescents and
springing for recycled paper products are all well-meaning strategies in the
fight against global warming. But as UC-Irvine physicist Benford sees it,
there's a catch. Those do-gooder actions are not going to be effective
enough to turn the temperature tide, and even incremental political changes
like reducing greenhouse gas emissions and mining alternative fuel sources
are not forward-thinking enough. "I never believed we were going to be able
to thwart global warming through carbon restriction," Benford says. "Carbon
restriction requires nations to subvert short- and midterm goals for a
long-term goal they've read about online, and that's just not going to
work."
As an alternative, Benford has cooked up a plan that amounts to a manmade
Mount Pinatubo eruption. He has proposed shooting trillions of tiny
particles of earth into the stratosphere, where they will remain suspended
to help blot out incoming solar rays. Dirt is cheap, chemically unreactive
and easily crushable, he argues, making it a simple matter to test this
strategy on a small scale over the Arctic before total global deployment.
This plan might seem a little too sci-fi to take seriously -- fittingly,
Benford moonlights as a Nebula-winning novelist -- but he's far from the
only scientist to lobby for a so-called geoengineering fix.
Researchers all over the world have begun advocating large-scale climate
control strategies that sound like something "The Simpsons'" Mr. Burns might
endorse, including erecting sun-blocking mirrors in deep space, spraying
tiny droplets of sulfur or ocean water into the atmosphere to deflect
sunbeams, and seeding the oceans with iron to spur the growth of CO2-sucking
phytoplankton. When a panel of scientists addressed the ethical implications
of geoengineering at the annual American Association for the Advancement of
Science conference in February in Boston, it was a clear sign of how far
this seemingly out-there field has advanced toward legitimacy.
While no proposed geoengineering fixes have yet been tested on a global
scale, all of them have the irresistible lure of immediacy. Once deposited,
CO2 can linger in the atmosphere for more than 100 years, meaning it will
take decades or centuries for emissions-reduction policies to cool the
planet significantly. Geoengineering, on the other hand, could potentially
send global temperatures back to preindustrial levels within only a few
years, bringing the Arctic melt to a screeching halt and keeping extreme
weather patterns and rising sea levels associated with warming in check.
"Every simulation that's been done shows that geoengineering doesn't bring
the climate back perfectly," says Ken Caldeira, an ecologist at Stanford
University, "but you could put sulfur in the stratosphere right away and it
would be colder next year."
Hubristic to the nth degree? Riskier than a tightrope ballet? Absolutely.
Even geoengineering's proponents concede that. "The history of intervening
in complex systems to correct them is not good," says Caldeira, who has
cautiously endorsed future geoengineering research. "You always think you
know how the system's going to respond, but we should assume that if we
start doing this, there are going to be some ugly surprises."
While researchers can't predict the exact trajectory a geoengineering scheme
spiraling out of control would take, the scenarios they've proposed so far
are downright apocalyptic. "Aerosol clouds do block out the sun, but they
could also produce regional climate change and reduce the Asian monsoon
rains," says Alan Robock, an environmental scientist at Rutgers University.
"That would threaten water and food supply for billions of people."
Likewise, a poorly designed deep-space mirror could put swaths of the planet
in shade, devastating crops. Further, spraying too much sulfur into the
atmosphere could produce enough acid rain to decimate forests around the
world. Multiply the effects of every past human-intervention horror show,
from kudzu to Chernobyl to cane toads, by a thousand, and you begin to grasp
the potential fallout of a geoengineering venture gone bad.
But advocates contend that climate engineering -- despite its
Frankensteinian specter and attendant risks -- is far preferable to the
alternative: launching a suite of well-intentioned emissions-control
measures that go belly-up, allowing warming to proceed virtually unchecked.
"I know of no realistic person who thinks carbon dioxide emissions are going
to do anything but grow," says Pete Geddes, executive vice president of the
Foundation for Research on Economics and the Environment. "Most European
countries are not meeting their emissions goals, and of the ones that have,
it's because their economies are collapsing. In the United States, this
notion that we're going to reduce our emissions by 80 percent is pure
fantasy."
To be sure, the degree of emissions control required to stave off warming's
worst effects will require almost monastic global discipline. A Geophysical
Research Letters paper published last year warned that if greenhouse gas
emissions are not curtailed to at least 60 percent below current levels by
2050, the world will see warming of more than 2 degrees Celsius within the
next century, enough to submerge low-lying coastal areas and drive polar
bears and Atlantic salmon to the brink of extinction. By comparison, Kyoto
Protocol targets -- which many countries are failing to hit -- require
participating nations to reduce emissions to at least 5 percent below 1990
levels by 2012. That's better than nothing, says Boston University visiting
law professor Jay Michaelson (who wrote a seminal geoengineering article for
the Stanford Environmental Law Journal), but it still doesn't make enough of
a dent in the problem. "Even with the most assertive emissions-reduction
targets, we're not talking about a real reduction in CO2 levels, we're
talking a reduction in the rate of growth," says Michaelson. "Either we have
to question the nature of industrial society, or we have to consider other
solutions."
Robock dismisses this as an overblown doomsday scenario; lowering
temperatures through emissions limits alone, he says, is still more than
feasible. "Every time a geoengineering proponent says reducing emissions is
impossible, that reduces the will of society to solve the problem."
But purely scientific disagreements about geoengineering are just the tip of
the melting iceberg. Questions of usefulness and necessity aside,
grand-scale sun-blocking schemes feel dubious in part because they challenge
our intuitive sense that large-scale wrongs can be atoned for only with
equally large-scale sacrifices. Drastic emissions cutbacks require drastic
lifestyle changes, like taking shorter showers and scrapping the Hummer.
Such changes feel right because they're a little painful; putting the
squeeze on ourselves is suitable penance for the collective sin of spewing
tailpipe fumes into the atmosphere for the past 100-plus years.
Geoengineering, by contrast, seems like an undeserved dispensation, a
free-lunch promise that technology can whitewash our past transgressions.
Let's go on a fossil fuel binge, never mind the CO2 hangover; scientists
will cure it by blotting out the light and fertilizing the oceans! "It's
like giving alcohol to a drunk; you've got a knife in your drawer so you can
put in a new liver if he ever needs it," said Dale Jamieson, director of
environmental studies at New York University, at February's AAAS conference.
Still, even the most skeptical scientists concede that it makes sense to
consider geoengineering as a last-ditch option, a kind of nuclear football
that can be deployed if warming becomes too dire -- if Manhattan threatens
to slip under the waves, say, or if the Fertile Crescent shows signs of
turning into a barren wasteland. "We need to do more research to figure out
whether geoengineering is possible in an emergency situation," Robock says.
Assuming for a moment the patient might need a new liver someday, who's
going to perform the transplant? Existing international laws could
complicate the procedure; a 1977 United Nations convention prohibits
countries from using environmental modification techniques that could have
"widespread, long-lasting or severe effects" on any other nation. That means
that if a government-funded geoengineering scheme has the potential to
disrupt global weather patterns, countries whose interests stand to be
affected could legitimately shut it down. And that's leaving aside the
thorny question of how to achieve climate-engineering consensus on a global
scale. "Whose hand would be on the thermostat?" Robock says. "What if India
wants it cooler and Russia wants it warmer?"
Which states emerge triumphant in squabbles like this may end up being a
moot point. The 1977 U.N. convention, like so many drafted during that era,
places no specific restrictions on the activities of private citizens. Since
geoengineering measures tend to be much more affordable than
emissions-reduction ones (dirt and sulfur aren't exactly hot commodities), a
future Bill Gates or Richard Branson could theoretically kick off an
artificial climate-cooling program with little or no input from the rest of
the world. "The cost to spray particles over the Arctic would be a couple
hundred million dollars a year; and for the whole planet, it's a few billion
a year," Benford says. "That's the thing that terrifies geoengineering's
opponents -- that this is at least a thousand times cheaper than anything
else." Indeed, the strategy's very accessibility may be what makes it the
most perilous. Who's to say some rogue entrepreneur, however well
intentioned, won't plunk down part of his multibillion-dollar nest egg to
send up a fleet of sulfur-spraying planes, putting the Northern Hemisphere
under a perpetual cloud and touching off other climatic consequences yet to
be foreseen?
Still, taking the giant -- and, in Benford's view, necessary -- global leap
of committing to geoengineering fixes may require private-sector
intervention, as no society today seems willing to put so much faith in a
single technological solution. "Everybody talks about [geoengineering] as
though it's a matter of mass action, but I don't think it is -- I don't
think it can be," Benford says. "The reason nothing's being done is that
governments are ever slower to act."
But putting our fate in the hands of a flash-in-the-pan environmental
dabbler with money to burn is especially risky given that adopting a
geoengineering venture would be like putting the planet on methadone. It
might save us from hitting climatic rock bottom, but it would also require
fastidious commitment to a treatment program with no real end in sight.
Whether any entity, commercial or governmental, would be able to carry out
the necessary upkeep for millenniums -- independent of regime changes,
cultural shifts and shadowy future catastrophes -- is still an open
question. "Only one or two organized bodies have been able to carry down
their traditions for a thousand years," Benford says. "It's a challenge for
our civilization. Future societies are going to have to place their trust in
a technological enterprise as they never have before."
But all that's far enough in the future that it still feels reassuringly
abstract. For now, geoengineering gurus like Benford are concentrating their
efforts on the most immediate task at hand: securing funding to test their
grandiose plans in the Arctic and other trial venues. It'll be an audition,
a chance for these off-off-Broadway productions to prove that they deserve a
place on the biggest stage of all -- and the results of the demo round could
help determine what life on this planet will be like for the next thousand
years. "Is geoengineering a pipe dream, or something that could actually
save the future of mankind?" Michaelson says. "We need to figure out which
one is true."
=====================================================================================
originally posted at:
http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2008/04/02/geoengineering/print.html
The sun blotted out from the sky
Global warming demands more than do-gooder actions. It demands
"geoengineering" -- like blocking the sun's rays with stratospheric dirt.
By Elizabeth Svoboda
Apr. 02, 2008 | Gregory Benford thinks Al Gore's a good guy and all, but he
also thinks the star of "An Inconvenient Truth" is a little delusional.
Driving a hybrid car, switching your bulbs to compact fluorescents and
springing for recycled paper products are all well-meaning strategies in the
fight against global warming. But as UC-Irvine physicist Benford sees it,
there's a catch. Those do-gooder actions are not going to be effective
enough to turn the temperature tide, and even incremental political changes
like reducing greenhouse gas emissions and mining alternative fuel sources
are not forward-thinking enough. "I never believed we were going to be able
to thwart global warming through carbon restriction," Benford says. "Carbon
restriction requires nations to subvert short- and midterm goals for a
long-term goal they've read about online, and that's just not going to
work."
As an alternative, Benford has cooked up a plan that amounts to a manmade
Mount Pinatubo eruption. He has proposed shooting trillions of tiny
particles of earth into the stratosphere, where they will remain suspended
to help blot out incoming solar rays. Dirt is cheap, chemically unreactive
and easily crushable, he argues, making it a simple matter to test this
strategy on a small scale over the Arctic before total global deployment.
This plan might seem a little too sci-fi to take seriously -- fittingly,
Benford moonlights as a Nebula-winning novelist -- but he's far from the
only scientist to lobby for a so-called geoengineering fix.
Researchers all over the world have begun advocating large-scale climate
control strategies that sound like something "The Simpsons'" Mr. Burns might
endorse, including erecting sun-blocking mirrors in deep space, spraying
tiny droplets of sulfur or ocean water into the atmosphere to deflect
sunbeams, and seeding the oceans with iron to spur the growth of CO2-sucking
phytoplankton. When a panel of scientists addressed the ethical implications
of geoengineering at the annual American Association for the Advancement of
Science conference in February in Boston, it was a clear sign of how far
this seemingly out-there field has advanced toward legitimacy.
While no proposed geoengineering fixes have yet been tested on a global
scale, all of them have the irresistible lure of immediacy. Once deposited,
CO2 can linger in the atmosphere for more than 100 years, meaning it will
take decades or centuries for emissions-reduction policies to cool the
planet significantly. Geoengineering, on the other hand, could potentially
send global temperatures back to preindustrial levels within only a few
years, bringing the Arctic melt to a screeching halt and keeping extreme
weather patterns and rising sea levels associated with warming in check.
"Every simulation that's been done shows that geoengineering doesn't bring
the climate back perfectly," says Ken Caldeira, an ecologist at Stanford
University, "but you could put sulfur in the stratosphere right away and it
would be colder next year."
Hubristic to the nth degree? Riskier than a tightrope ballet? Absolutely.
Even geoengineering's proponents concede that. "The history of intervening
in complex systems to correct them is not good," says Caldeira, who has
cautiously endorsed future geoengineering research. "You always think you
know how the system's going to respond, but we should assume that if we
start doing this, there are going to be some ugly surprises."
While researchers can't predict the exact trajectory a geoengineering scheme
spiraling out of control would take, the scenarios they've proposed so far
are downright apocalyptic. "Aerosol clouds do block out the sun, but they
could also produce regional climate change and reduce the Asian monsoon
rains," says Alan Robock, an environmental scientist at Rutgers University.
"That would threaten water and food supply for billions of people."
Likewise, a poorly designed deep-space mirror could put swaths of the planet
in shade, devastating crops. Further, spraying too much sulfur into the
atmosphere could produce enough acid rain to decimate forests around the
world. Multiply the effects of every past human-intervention horror show,
from kudzu to Chernobyl to cane toads, by a thousand, and you begin to grasp
the potential fallout of a geoengineering venture gone bad.
But advocates contend that climate engineering -- despite its
Frankensteinian specter and attendant risks -- is far preferable to the
alternative: launching a suite of well-intentioned emissions-control
measures that go belly-up, allowing warming to proceed virtually unchecked.
"I know of no realistic person who thinks carbon dioxide emissions are going
to do anything but grow," says Pete Geddes, executive vice president of the
Foundation for Research on Economics and the Environment. "Most European
countries are not meeting their emissions goals, and of the ones that have,
it's because their economies are collapsing. In the United States, this
notion that we're going to reduce our emissions by 80 percent is pure
fantasy."
To be sure, the degree of emissions control required to stave off warming's
worst effects will require almost monastic global discipline. A Geophysical
Research Letters paper published last year warned that if greenhouse gas
emissions are not curtailed to at least 60 percent below current levels by
2050, the world will see warming of more than 2 degrees Celsius within the
next century, enough to submerge low-lying coastal areas and drive polar
bears and Atlantic salmon to the brink of extinction. By comparison, Kyoto
Protocol targets -- which many countries are failing to hit -- require
participating nations to reduce emissions to at least 5 percent below 1990
levels by 2012. That's better than nothing, says Boston University visiting
law professor Jay Michaelson (who wrote a seminal geoengineering article for
the Stanford Environmental Law Journal), but it still doesn't make enough of
a dent in the problem. "Even with the most assertive emissions-reduction
targets, we're not talking about a real reduction in CO2 levels, we're
talking a reduction in the rate of growth," says Michaelson. "Either we have
to question the nature of industrial society, or we have to consider other
solutions."
Robock dismisses this as an overblown doomsday scenario; lowering
temperatures through emissions limits alone, he says, is still more than
feasible. "Every time a geoengineering proponent says reducing emissions is
impossible, that reduces the will of society to solve the problem."
But purely scientific disagreements about geoengineering are just the tip of
the melting iceberg. Questions of usefulness and necessity aside,
grand-scale sun-blocking schemes feel dubious in part because they challenge
our intuitive sense that large-scale wrongs can be atoned for only with
equally large-scale sacrifices. Drastic emissions cutbacks require drastic
lifestyle changes, like taking shorter showers and scrapping the Hummer.
Such changes feel right because they're a little painful; putting the
squeeze on ourselves is suitable penance for the collective sin of spewing
tailpipe fumes into the atmosphere for the past 100-plus years.
Geoengineering, by contrast, seems like an undeserved dispensation, a
free-lunch promise that technology can whitewash our past transgressions.
Let's go on a fossil fuel binge, never mind the CO2 hangover; scientists
will cure it by blotting out the light and fertilizing the oceans! "It's
like giving alcohol to a drunk; you've got a knife in your drawer so you can
put in a new liver if he ever needs it," said Dale Jamieson, director of
environmental studies at New York University, at February's AAAS conference.
Still, even the most skeptical scientists concede that it makes sense to
consider geoengineering as a last-ditch option, a kind of nuclear football
that can be deployed if warming becomes too dire -- if Manhattan threatens
to slip under the waves, say, or if the Fertile Crescent shows signs of
turning into a barren wasteland. "We need to do more research to figure out
whether geoengineering is possible in an emergency situation," Robock says.
Assuming for a moment the patient might need a new liver someday, who's
going to perform the transplant? Existing international laws could
complicate the procedure; a 1977 United Nations convention prohibits
countries from using environmental modification techniques that could have
"widespread, long-lasting or severe effects" on any other nation. That means
that if a government-funded geoengineering scheme has the potential to
disrupt global weather patterns, countries whose interests stand to be
affected could legitimately shut it down. And that's leaving aside the
thorny question of how to achieve climate-engineering consensus on a global
scale. "Whose hand would be on the thermostat?" Robock says. "What if India
wants it cooler and Russia wants it warmer?"
Which states emerge triumphant in squabbles like this may end up being a
moot point. The 1977 U.N. convention, like so many drafted during that era,
places no specific restrictions on the activities of private citizens. Since
geoengineering measures tend to be much more affordable than
emissions-reduction ones (dirt and sulfur aren't exactly hot commodities), a
future Bill Gates or Richard Branson could theoretically kick off an
artificial climate-cooling program with little or no input from the rest of
the world. "The cost to spray particles over the Arctic would be a couple
hundred million dollars a year; and for the whole planet, it's a few billion
a year," Benford says. "That's the thing that terrifies geoengineering's
opponents -- that this is at least a thousand times cheaper than anything
else." Indeed, the strategy's very accessibility may be what makes it the
most perilous. Who's to say some rogue entrepreneur, however well
intentioned, won't plunk down part of his multibillion-dollar nest egg to
send up a fleet of sulfur-spraying planes, putting the Northern Hemisphere
under a perpetual cloud and touching off other climatic consequences yet to
be foreseen?
Still, taking the giant -- and, in Benford's view, necessary -- global leap
of committing to geoengineering fixes may require private-sector
intervention, as no society today seems willing to put so much faith in a
single technological solution. "Everybody talks about [geoengineering] as
though it's a matter of mass action, but I don't think it is -- I don't
think it can be," Benford says. "The reason nothing's being done is that
governments are ever slower to act."
But putting our fate in the hands of a flash-in-the-pan environmental
dabbler with money to burn is especially risky given that adopting a
geoengineering venture would be like putting the planet on methadone. It
might save us from hitting climatic rock bottom, but it would also require
fastidious commitment to a treatment program with no real end in sight.
Whether any entity, commercial or governmental, would be able to carry out
the necessary upkeep for millenniums -- independent of regime changes,
cultural shifts and shadowy future catastrophes -- is still an open
question. "Only one or two organized bodies have been able to carry down
their traditions for a thousand years," Benford says. "It's a challenge for
our civilization. Future societies are going to have to place their trust in
a technological enterprise as they never have before."
But all that's far enough in the future that it still feels reassuringly
abstract. For now, geoengineering gurus like Benford are concentrating their
efforts on the most immediate task at hand: securing funding to test their
grandiose plans in the Arctic and other trial venues. It'll be an audition,
a chance for these off-off-Broadway productions to prove that they deserve a
place on the biggest stage of all -- and the results of the demo round could
help determine what life on this planet will be like for the next thousand
years. "Is geoengineering a pipe dream, or something that could actually
save the future of mankind?" Michaelson says. "We need to figure out which
one is true."
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