By James K. Boyce
At the latest round of international climate talks this month in Lima, Peru, melting glaciers in the Andes and recent droughts provided a fitting backdrop for the negotiators' recognition that it is too late to prevent climate change, no matter how fast we ultimately act to limit it. They now confront an issue that many had hoped to avoid: adaptation.
Adapting to climate change will carry a high price tag. Sea walls are needed to protect coastal areas against floods, such as those in the New York area when Superstorm Sandy struck in 2012. We need early-warning and evacuation systems to protect against human tragedies, such as those caused by Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines in 2013 and by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005.
Cooling centers and emergency services must be created to cope with heat waves, such as the one that killed 70,000 in Europe in 2003. Water projects are needed to protect farmers and herders from extreme droughts, such as the one that gripped the Horn of Africa in 2011. Large-scale replanting of forests with new species will be needed to keep pace as temperature gradients shift toward the poles.
Because adaptation won't come cheap, we must decide which investments are worth the cost.
A thought experiment illustrates the choices we face.
Imagine that without major new investments in adaptation, climate change will cause world incomes to fall in the next two decades by 25 percent across the board, with everyone's income going down, from the poorest farm worker in Bangladesh to the wealthiest real estate baron in Manhattan. Adaptation can cushion some but not all of these losses. What should be our priority: Reduce losses for the farm worker or the baron?
For the farm worker, and a billion others in the world who live on about $1 a day, this 25 percent income loss will be a disaster, perhaps the difference between life and death. Yet in dollars, the loss is just 25 cents a day.
For the land baron and other "one-percenters" in the United States with average incomes of about $2,000 a day, the 25 percent income loss would be a matter of regret, not survival. He'll find a way to get by on $1,500 a day.
In human terms, the baron's loss pales compared with that of the farm worker. But in dollar terms, it's 2,000 times larger.
Conventional economic models would prescribe spending more to protect the barons than the farm workers of the world. The rationale was set forth with brutal clarity in a memorandum leaked in 1992 that was signed by Lawrence Summers, then chief economist of the World Bank.
The memo asked whether the bank should encourage more migration of dirty industries to developing countries and concluded that "the economic logic of dumping a load of toxic waste in the lowest-wage country is impeccable and we should face up to that."
Climate change is just a new kind of toxic waste.
The "economic logic" of the Summers memo - later said to have been penned tongue-in-cheek to provoke debate, which it certainly did - rests on a doctrine of "efficiency" that counts all dollars equally. Whether it goes to a starving child or a millionaire, a dollar is a dollar. The task of economists, in this view, is to maximize the size of the total dollar pie. How it's sliced is not their problem.
A different way to set adaptation priorities is to count each person equally, not each dollar. This approach rests on the ethical principle that a healthy environment is a human right, not a commodity to be distributed on the basis of purchasing power, or a privilege to be distributed on the basis of political power.
This equity principle is widely embraced around the world, from the affirmation in the U.S. Declaration of Independence that people have an inalienable right to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," to the guarantee in the South African constitution that everyone has the right "to an environment that is not harmful to their health or well-being." It puts safeguarding the lives of the poor ahead of safeguarding the property of the rich.
In the years ahead, climate change will confront the world with hard choices: whether to protect as many dollars as possible, or to protect as many people as we can.