Chinese walker

In Japan, the government has only recently reached the point where it is finally willing to recognise the causal relationship between reservoirs and landslides.

The Ōtaki Dam in southern Honshu was completed in 1977 after more than two decades of construction, the expenditure of 23 billion yen (US$251million), and the relocation of 475 homes. After years of delay, workers began to fill the reservoir up with water in March 2003.

The following month, a slope to the right of the dam in an area known as Shiroya began to creep downward. %26ldquo;In the middle of the village, a crack appeared in the ground, and it was clear that it was very deep,%26rdquo; says president of the neighbourhood community association, 75-year old Isaka Kanshiro.

Isaka recalls that, before the dam was constructed, the government determined that the area was in danger of landslides and researchers recommended that all the households in the village be moved to a safe location.

But this did not happen. %26ldquo;Government officials decided that the village did not need to be moved if certain measures were taken to prevent the land from sliding,%26rdquo; says Isaka. %26ldquo;But once they began to design the dam, they decided that it would be okay and simply drove some piles into the ground at a depth of 20 metres. This was like beating the air. When they started filling up the reservoir and the water level rose, of course the land slid.%26rdquo;

Soon afterwards, the construction ministry, now part of the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, recognised that the dammed water was the cause of the landslide. In May 2003, it created a committee to investigate the fissure in the Shiroya area, which cited other examples of reservoirs triggering landslides such as Ōdo Dam, on the southern Japanese island of Shikoku in 1982 and Vajont Dam in Italy in 1963. The Construction Ministry was clearly aware of dam-caused landslides.

There is evidence in parliamentary records that the government knew about the danger of landslides at Ōtaki Dam. During a session of the Lower House Budget Committee in March 1990, questions were raised about sections of a local soil survey report that indicated there was a possibility of landslides.

Even though Italian engineers were aware there was a danger of a mountain collapsing into a newly-created reservoir behind the Vajont Dam, once the dam was completed and the reservoir filled, a massive landslide occurred, creating a tsunami that swept downstream and took the lives of 2,000 people. Likewise, the damage at Shiroya happened because the government ignored survey results and the concerns of residents and concentrated on cutting costs while continuing to push forward the project.

MLIT has now emptied the reservoir and is carrying out projects to prevent further landslides. Truly, the criticism that public works projects are %26ldquo;born small but grow huge%26rdquo; aptly fits landslide prevention measures. In August 2008, the government amended its dam legislation, extending construction projects to 2012, and allocating funds of 364 billion yen (US$4 billion). Projects that were supposed to take 15 years will now take half a century and cost 16 times more than originally expected.

Landslide prevention measures at JWA%26rsquo;s Takizawa Dam in central Honshu have continued for three years. The first landslide occurred on November 2, 2005. The previous month, while the reservoir was being filled, a slope 1.5 kilometres above the dam shifted one centimetre and fissures appeared in four separate spots. Landslide prevention procedures were conducted for nine months at a cost of 3 billion yen (US$32.8 million).

In August 2006, soon after those measures completed, workers began to fill the reservoir again. In May 2007, the slope right next to the one that had been strengthened collapsed. Half a month later, the slope %26mdash; now 90 metres wide, 27 metres deep, and 15 metres long %26mdash; slid further. JWA had taken preventative measures in no less than 40 different places. Yet this was insufficient.

Prevention measures continued and, in August 2007, another attempt was made to fill the reservoir. This time, workers were able to fill it to capacity but, as they began to lower the water in April 2008, a crack was discovered in a city road near the reservoir bank. As the water level continued to decline, other fissures appeared. Even when the water level was maintained, the land continued to slump. It was an obvious disaster.

Could this all have been avoided? A JWA official reported: %26ldquo;In November 2003, a public works committee at the Kanto Region Development Bureau evaluated the cost-benefit of the landslide prevention measures and recommended that we %26lsquo;continue%26rsquo;. We did not arrive at this decision internally.%26rdquo; But an investigation of the committee%26rsquo;s minutes reveals that there was not a single geologist among its 12 members. No one takes responsibility, no one makes rational decisions and tax monies continue to be wasted.

There may be nothing as perverse as building a dam in an area that you know is susceptible to landslides. Japan%26rsquo;s Landslide Prevention Law places limits on %26ldquo;increasing, attracting, or retaining ground water%26rdquo; above areas deemed vulnerable to landslides. Dams constructed in such areas present a stark violation of this law. One example of this is the JWA%26rsquo;s Shimokubo Dam on the Kanna River, the westernmost branch of the Tone River.

Just below the dam is an area that was designated a protected zone in 1962 because landslides had occurred there in 1910, 1938, and 1947. Despite this, the Shimokubo Dam was constructed there in 1968.

About two years after the dam was completed in 1991, a concentrated downpour triggered a huge landslide, which destroyed 40 homes. Cracks and bumps appeared in other houses and roads. A motorway was completely closed for six days, and one lane was closed for a further 565 days. The following year, heavy rains intensified the landslide problems and, in 1995, the area was declared one of 12 %26ldquo;landslide zones under direct control of the central government%26rdquo;.

These problems have transformed the area into one of the country%26rsquo;s largest public works projects, currently expected to complete in 2025 and to cost 38 billion yen (US$415 million). Though the project is under central government control, the prefecture is expected to bear one-third of the cost.

What is the relationship between the dam and the landslides? The hypothesis that the reservoir, which seeps into the groundwater causing its level to rise, is a contributing factor seems reasonable. However, officials are unwilling even to investigate this relationship. Planning officials at the Kanto Region Development Bureau appear to have been unaware that a landslide zone under the direct control of the central government lay just below the Shimokubo Dam. Perhaps they would like to deny any relationship between the dam and landslides, but they should at least investigate the possibility and the risks involved.

Even as questions about the possibility of landslides go unanswered, the Asakawa Dam in central Honshu %26ndash; a venture that was once cancelled %26ndash; is moving ahead. The site of the project is on the south-west side of the one-time volcano Mount Iizuna, located between the epicentre of the 7.4 magnitude Zenkoji Earthquake, which rocked the area in 1847, and the Mount Chizuki Landslide, that occurred in July 1985. All three locations lie on the western edge of the Nagano Basin, where volcanic tuff is widely distributed.

One of the first people to realise the danger of the Asakawa Dam was Uchiyama Takurō, who was forced to relocate his house by the Chizuki Landslide from a hill on the right side of the Asakawa River to one on the left side. He decided to build a pond on his new property, but was told that he could not because the area was susceptible to landslides. Why then, he wondered, is a dam being planned in this area? After investigating, Uchiyama discovered workers had been drilling bore samples for twenty years and had failed to find a site that was appropriate for a dam.

Suddenly, however, the project began to accelerate. In preparation for the 1998 Nagano Winter Olympics, the prefecture decided it needed a road to replace a toll road that had been devastated by the Chizuki Landslide. The prefecture, which was short of money, combined the road with the Asakawa dam project as a last ditch measure to obtain additional funding. In this way, the dam project was restarted.

In 2000, Uchiyama led newly-elected prefectural governor Tanaka Yasuo on a tour of the dam site. He informed him that the current location was the fourth or fifth that had been proposed and that it had initially been abandoned as inadequate. By the end of the day, Tanaka had decided to pull the plug on the project.

But in June 2007, a number of prefectural assembly members suggested that another investigation be conducted into the geology of the proposed site. In response, the director of the construction department declared that %26ldquo;sufficient surveys had been conducted%26rdquo; and that the prefecture would proceed %26ldquo;using the best designs and workmanship%26rdquo;. Such statements have been heard before in the cases of the Ōtaki Dam and the Takizawa Dam.

When dams are constructed in areas with volcanic geology or that have been designated as landslide prevention areas, they often lead to serious human and economic costs. When will the government learn from all these examples that %26ldquo;using the best designs%26rdquo; will not be enough? Just what will it take for officials to cancel dangerous dam projects?

Masano Atsuko is a journalist specialising in environmental issues.

An earlier version of this article appeared in Sekai in December 2008 and was later published as %26ldquo;The Immense Cost of Japanese Dams and Dam-related Landslides and Earthquakes,%26rdquo; The Asia-Pacific Journal, 1-2-10, January 4, 2010, translated from Japanese into English by Aaron Skabelund. It is used here with permission.

Homepage image shows one of the many landslides triggered by the Iwate-Miyagi Nairuku Earthquake, which struck northern Honshu in June 2008.

The history of the forced removal of the Lakota Sioux from their lands, while it seems to have happened long ago, is vibrantly alive for the Indians living on the reservation today. Many of them can tell stories of how their parents were sent to faraway boarding schools and taught that their culture was inferior. The ban on Lakota culture and language was lifted only in 1971, well within the memory of many living adults.

The profound cultural trauma that these people have experienced has left many of them deeply hopeless and without a clear sense of their own future or destiny as a nation. Everywhere I went during a week I spent on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, I heard again the stories of the treaty of 1868, of the massacre at Wounded Knee, and of the theft of the sacred Black Hills which are held to be the origin of the Lakota people. I experienced the profound mistrust of outsiders, particularly white people. And I witnessed among some residents a sense of defeat far more profound than any I have observed in all my travels in less developed countries throughout the world.

On the reservation today, the only truly successful business is a gambling casino called Prairie Winds (Native Americans are exempt from state prohibitions on organised gambling). Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, many of those who lose money are themselves Native Americans. There is talk of developing wind power; so far these conversations have not led to substantial results. While there is also talk of oil and mineral resources, the Indians will not permit the sacred lands to be scarred with mines, and in a case of %26ldquo;environmental injustice%26rdquo;, new uranium mines off the reservation threaten to taint downstream Indian rivers with radioactive materials.

There are signs of hope, but these are few: two Native American brothers have been appointed to lead the Badlands National Park and Mount Rushmore. An image of the great Indian warrior Crazy Horse is being carved a few miles away from the images of the US presidents. A sacred Black Hills mountain, Bear Butte, is being closed to non-Indians during times when rituals are most important, although its peace is also gravely threatened by the opening of a nearby rifle range, and the bars, campgrounds, and concert venues have greatly offended the local tribes.

A college, the Oglala Lakota College, has been opened on the reservation, where it offers advanced degrees in Lakota studies, nursing, business, information science, social work and other relevant fields. A %26ldquo;Lakotafund%26rdquo; has been created to extend micro-credit to small businesses such as beadwork and other traditional handicrafts. Some who have left the reservation to pursue advanced degrees and learn skills in other parts of the country have returned to try to make a contribution back home.

Meanwhile, in Washington, DC, the National Museum of the American Indian, established in 1989 by an act of Congress in an effort to acknowledge the great wrong of our history, is managed by Native Americans, whose greatest desire is to convey the message that %26ldquo;we%26rsquo;re still here%26rdquo;. Whether the US president, Barack Obama, will encourage Congress to revisit the great question of ownership of the Black Hills, and whether there are symbolic measures that could be taken to help move the Sioux nation toward healing, remains to be seen.

What, then, are we to take as lessons from this horrific story, and what might be relevant for Chinese policy makers today? First, it is worth reflecting on the relationship between resources, land, nation-building, and power %26ndash; and reflecting seriously on the question of how to build a strong, prosperous nation while safeguarding justice for all citizens. Sometimes rigorous introspection and honesty may be required to discover whether one is using cultural superiority and stereotyping as a way to rationalise the seizure of other people%26rsquo;s land. In this case, resource extraction was a primary motivation for seizing Indians%26rsquo; land, but it was often cloaked in rhetoric about doing what was best for the Indians.

Second, good intentions can sometimes be highly destructive. The American missionaries and civilisers truly believed that in forbidding the use of Lakota language and the practice of Lakota customs they were doing the right thing %26ndash; even, perhaps, saving the Indians%26rsquo; %26ldquo;souls%26rdquo; and allowing them to find a place in heaven by converting them to Christianity. However, the deprivation of identity and pride has turned out to be devastating for the native people, who are now trying to recover some of their traditions by reviving rituals such as the Sun Dance and to re-learn their language in native-run schools.

Third, modern technologies such as the gun, the road and the railroad, and foreign diseases such as smallpox, were highly destructive to the native peoples, and created an %26ldquo;uneven playing field%26rdquo; such that the native peoples had little chance of preserving their way of life. As environmental historians such as Jared Diamond and Alfred Crosby teach us, the outcome of this sort of clash of cultures can be determined as much by technology, disease and introduced species as by more conventional measures of military superiority.

Fourth, one of the high prices of civilisation and resource extraction is often environmental degradation and ecosystem transformation. Instead of the buffalo, passenger pigeon and tall grass prairie, the central United States saw desertification and dust storms, especially in the 1920s, a heavy and enduring price to pay for our overly enthusiastic grazing and farming practices.

Finally, indigenous peoples%26rsquo; knowledge, while often not expressed in ways that modern %26ldquo;science%26rdquo; can hear and respect, nonetheless often can point the way toward more sustainable relationships with the land. Although some have warned against romanticising Native American wisdom and called %26ldquo;the ecological Indian%26rdquo; a myth, it is undeniable that the Sioux elders predicted that in the wasteful and over-consuming way of the white man lay ecological disaster.

I hope that this cautionary tale of the Pine Ridge Sioux provides fruit for reflection and discussion. Although there are obviously great historical differences between the United States and China, we have much to learn from each other, especially at this time when the gaps in our economic and social development are decreasing and we are coming more and more to resemble each other.

Judith Shapiro is director of the Natural Resources and Sustainable Development MA Program at the School of International Service, American University, Washington DC.

Homepage image by Serge Van Cauwenbergh

The quantity and quality of available water play a crucial role in the politics of central-south Asia. Access to clean drinking water is a major, though largely unmet, objective and poor management lies at the heart of many problems.

Many areas are already experiencing physical water shortages %26ndash; recent studies estimate per capita water availability in the densely-populated Indus basin at around 1,000 cubic metres per year %26ndash; and climate change will only exacerbate this.

The region%26rsquo;s water challenges do not inevitably lead to armed conflict. Unalleviated, however, they threaten to undermine human security and bring different communities into dispute. Cooperative approaches have been sparse and institutional structures remain fragmented. Yet cooperation will be critical for the region to meet its water challenges in the years and decades ahead.

In Afghanistan, the livelihoods of at least 80% of the population are based on agriculture and related occupations. The fertile plains of the Amu Darya basin, account for about 40% of Afghanistan%26rsquo;s irrigated lands. But poorly constructed canals translate into water losses as high as 70%. And droughts and dry years since 1999 have substantially reduced cultivated areas in the south and east.

Moreover, three decades of armed conflict have displaced a large portion of the population, impeded access to farmland, and destroyed irrigation systems. Buffeted by recurring drought and floods, and the population%26rsquo;s desperate coping strategies, the net result has been a severe degradation of Afghanistan%26rsquo;s natural environment and its water and farming infrastructure. According to Oxfam UK, overall agricultural produce has fallen by half in recent years and the loss of rural livelihoods has triggered migration to cities.

Millions of Afghans are either seasonally or chronically food insecure. As well as hunger, these desperate conditions have triggered local conflicts. Water contamination has become a severe public health threat, owing to poor waste management practices and a lack of modern sanitation; a 2003 United Nations assessment concluded no more than 12 to 23% of Afghanistan%26rsquo;s urban population has access to safe water.

In the wider region, the nations sharing the Amu Darya are locked into seemingly irreconcilable sets of interests. Tajikistan and Afghanistan look to the Amu Darya for hydropower as well as irrigation while Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan depend heavily on the river to irrigate their cotton, rice, and wheat fields.

Downstream, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan have similar economic interests, yet their relationship is nonetheless conflictive. Tensions over shared irrigation systems near Tuyamuyun Reservoir could be further inflamed by Turkmenistan’s plans to build an artificial lake in the Karakum desert by 2010.

Upstream, Tajikistan releases reservoir water in the winter months to generate hydropower for heating, frequently causing downstream flooding and damage to infrastructure. In the summer months, it builds up its reservoirs %26mdash; at precisely the time when the irrigation needs of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan are most acute.

All these countries plan to increase water extraction, which may exacerbate tensions. Tajikistani plans to complete unfinished Soviet-era hydropower projects on the Vakhsh River, for example, are worrying Uzbekistan, not only because of the potential impact on summer irrigation water flows, but also because it stands to lose income (and leverage) from selling natural gas to its neighbour.

In Pakistan and India, extensive irrigation is also placing Indus basin water resources under heavy stress, with about 90% of the available flow utilised. Overpumping and inefficient irrigation techniques have led to sharply declining groundwater levels, loss of wetlands and salinisation of agricultural lands. Future sea-level rise will place coastal areas at increasing risk of inundation and water availability will decline dramatically as a result of climate change and population growth; Pakistan%26rsquo;s per capita water availability is forecast to fall to a critically low level of just 800 cubic metres annually by 2020.

Already, an estimated 40 million to 55 million Pakistanis do not have access to safe drinking water, yet the government spends 47 times as much on the military budget as on water and sanitation. According to a Unesco report, only 2% of Pakistan%26rsquo;s cities have wastewater treatment facilities and less than 30% of wastewater receives treatment in these cities. Water pollution is the leading cause of death in Pakistan.

Rising water demand in the region is causing trans-border issues as well as internal conflicts. Pakistan has an important agreement with India, the 1960 Indus Water Treaty, which divides the waters of the Indus and its eastern tributaries. However, a number of contentious projects undertaken by India in Kashmir %26mdash; including the Baglihar Hydroelecric Dam, the Kishanganga Hydroelectric project and the Tulbul Navigation project %26mdash; have served as reminders that water disputes between the two neighbours are never far from the surface. It is increasingly important for India and Pakistan to improve their water management and ensure diplomacy, rather than threat of force, governs water relations.

Climate change will dramatically raise the challenges in central and south Asia. By the middle of the century, increasing temperatures and growing water stress may lead to a 30% reduction in crop yields. In central Asia, reduced rainfall and runoff will cause increased heat stress, drought and desertification and lead to increasing migration. Yet no mitigation and adaptation strategies are in place.

The melting of the Hindu Kush-Karakorum-Himalaya glaciers will also have serious consequences for hundreds of millions of people. The warming trend in these mountain ranges has been much greater than the global average and two thirds of the Himalayan glaciers are reported to be shrinking. Over time, this will reduce downstream runoff and compromise hydropower generation, decreasing production of foodstuffs and commodities like cotton. In turn, this may increase poverty and social disparities.

Significant changes to monsoon patterns are also expected. Much of south, east, and south-east Asia may see increased intensity of these storms by the century%26rsquo;s end, while most parts of Pakistan and south-eastern Afghanistan are expected to see a 20% reduction in rainfall. Destructive storm surges and greater salt-water intrusion in low-lying coastal areas could drive migration from urban centres such as Karachi and flooding is expected to increase across the Himalayas, as well as northern Pakistan and India.

International donor support is needed to fund infrastructure maintenance, improvements in water efficiency, and diversification toward more drought-resistant crops, in part by reprioritising existing funds. In Afghanistan, for instance, Oxfam observes that donors have spent less than US$300 million to $400 million directly on agricultural projects over the last six years %26ndash; a fraction of overall assistance to the country.

The governance system for central Asia%26rsquo;s water that emerged in the post-Soviet era remains largely dysfunctional, limited by conflicting interests, mutual suspicions and a reluctance to cooperate. However, the UN Economic Commission for Europe has intensified its engagement in central Asia over the past few years, with a programme to strengthen cooperation among members. Its Water Convention also provides a legal framework for trans-boundary water cooperation, though Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan are so far the only regional signatories. Other organisations, including the Environment and Security Initiative and the East-West Institute are also running programmes to boost regional collaboration.

As great as the challenges are, there are multiple avenues for addressing them. One of the most pressing needs is greater efficiency in water use. By 2015, Afghanistan%26rsquo;s Ministry of Energy and Water hopes to boost efficiency by 45%, while improvements in yields for rain-fed cereal crops in Pakistan could help relieve overall water pressures. Their neighbours can and must similarly boost water productivity. Better watershed management, rainwater harvesting, urban water conservation, investments in sanitation, and more integrated planning are vitally important.

The countries of the region have little influence over global greenhouse emissions trajectories, and hence will need to focus principally on adaptation measures. It is essential to build environmental, social, economic, and political resilience, as well as improve institutional capacities to cope with growing water scarcity and climate impacts. Water cooperation across national boundaries offers important benefits but may not be realised without disinterested, innovative third-party facilitation.

Michael Renner is a senior researcher at the Worldwatch Institute in Washington, DC and senior advisor to the Institute for Environmental Security in Brussels.

A full version of this report was first published by the Norwegian Peacebuilding Centre.

Homepage image from IRIN

The quantity and quality of available water play a crucial role in the politics of central-south Asia. Access to clean drinking water is a major, though largely unmet, objective and poor management lies at the heart of many problems.

Many areas are already experiencing physical water shortages %26ndash; recent studies estimate per capita water availability in the densely-populated Indus basin at around 1,000 cubic metres per year %26ndash; and climate change will only exacerbate this.

The region%26rsquo;s water challenges do not inevitably lead to armed conflict. Unalleviated, however, they threaten to undermine human security and bring different communities into dispute. Cooperative approaches have been sparse and institutional structures remain fragmented. Yet cooperation will be critical for the region to meet its water challenges in the years and decades ahead.

In Afghanistan, the livelihoods of at least 80% of the population are based on agriculture and related occupations. The fertile plains of the Amu Darya basin, account for about 40% of Afghanistan%26rsquo;s irrigated lands. But poorly constructed canals translate into water losses as high as 70%. And droughts and dry years since 1999 have substantially reduced cultivated areas in the south and east.

Moreover, three decades of armed conflict have displaced a large portion of the population, impeded access to farmland, and destroyed irrigation systems. Buffeted by recurring drought and floods, and the population%26rsquo;s desperate coping strategies, the net result has been a severe degradation of Afghanistan%26rsquo;s natural environment and its water and farming infrastructure. According to Oxfam UK, overall agricultural produce has fallen by half in recent years and the loss of rural livelihoods has triggered migration to cities.

Millions of Afghans are either seasonally or chronically food insecure. As well as hunger, these desperate conditions have triggered local conflicts. Water contamination has become a severe public health threat, owing to poor waste management practices and a lack of modern sanitation; a 2003 United Nations assessment concluded no more than 12 to 23% of Afghanistan%26rsquo;s urban population has access to safe water.

In the wider region, the nations sharing the Amu Darya are locked into seemingly irreconcilable sets of interests. Tajikistan and Afghanistan look to the Amu Darya for hydropower as well as irrigation while Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan depend heavily on the river to irrigate their cotton, rice, and wheat fields.

Downstream, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan have similar economic interests, yet their relationship is nonetheless conflictive. Tensions over shared irrigation systems near Tuyamuyun Reservoir could be further inflamed by Turkmenistan’s plans to build an artificial lake in the Karakum desert by 2010.

Upstream, Tajikistan releases reservoir water in the winter months to generate hydropower for heating, frequently causing downstream flooding and damage to infrastructure. In the summer months, it builds up its reservoirs %26mdash; at precisely the time when the irrigation needs of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan are most acute.

All these countries plan to increase water extraction, which may exacerbate tensions. Tajikistani plans to complete unfinished Soviet-era hydropower projects on the Vakhsh River, for example, are worrying Uzbekistan, not only because of the potential impact on summer irrigation water flows, but also because it stands to lose income (and leverage) from selling natural gas to its neighbour.

In Pakistan and India, extensive irrigation is also placing Indus basin water resources under heavy stress, with about 90% of the available flow utilised. Overpumping and inefficient irrigation techniques have led to sharply declining groundwater levels, loss of wetlands and salinisation of agricultural lands. Future sea-level rise will place coastal areas at increasing risk of inundation and water availability will decline dramatically as a result of climate change and population growth; Pakistan%26rsquo;s per capita water availability is forecast to fall to a critically low level of just 800 cubic metres annually by 2020.

Already, an estimated 40 million to 55 million Pakistanis do not have access to safe drinking water, yet the government spends 47 times as much on the military budget as on water and sanitation. According to a Unesco report, only 2% of Pakistan%26rsquo;s cities have wastewater treatment facilities and less than 30% of wastewater receives treatment in these cities. Water pollution is the leading cause of death in Pakistan.

Rising water demand in the region is causing trans-border issues as well as internal conflicts. Pakistan has an important agreement with India, the 1960 Indus Water Treaty, which divides the waters of the Indus and its eastern tributaries. However, a number of contentious projects undertaken by India in Kashmir %26mdash; including the Baglihar Hydroelecric Dam, the Kishanganga Hydroelectric project and the Tulbul Navigation project %26mdash; have served as reminders that water disputes between the two neighbours are never far from the surface. It is increasingly important for India and Pakistan to improve their water management and ensure diplomacy, rather than threat of force, governs water relations.

Climate change will dramatically raise the challenges in central and south Asia. By the middle of the century, increasing temperatures and growing water stress may lead to a 30% reduction in crop yields. In central Asia, reduced rainfall and runoff will cause increased heat stress, drought and desertification and lead to increasing migration. Yet no mitigation and adaptation strategies are in place.

The melting of the Hindu Kush-Karakorum-Himalaya glaciers will also have serious consequences for hundreds of millions of people. The warming trend in these mountain ranges has been much greater than the global average and two thirds of the Himalayan glaciers are reported to be shrinking. Over time, this will reduce downstream runoff and compromise hydropower generation, decreasing production of foodstuffs and commodities like cotton. In turn, this may increase poverty and social disparities.

Significant changes to monsoon patterns are also expected. Much of south, east, and south-east Asia may see increased intensity of these storms by the century%26rsquo;s end, while most parts of Pakistan and south-eastern Afghanistan are expected to see a 20% reduction in rainfall. Destructive storm surges and greater salt-water intrusion in low-lying coastal areas could drive migration from urban centres such as Karachi and flooding is expected to increase across the Himalayas, as well as northern Pakistan and India.

International donor support is needed to fund infrastructure maintenance, improvements in water efficiency, and diversification toward more drought-resistant crops, in part by reprioritising existing funds. In Afghanistan, for instance, Oxfam observes that donors have spent less than US$300 million to $400 million directly on agricultural projects over the last six years %26ndash; a fraction of overall assistance to the country.

The governance system for central Asia%26rsquo;s water that emerged in the post-Soviet era remains largely dysfunctional, limited by conflicting interests, mutual suspicions and a reluctance to cooperate. However, the UN Economic Commission for Europe has intensified its engagement in central Asia over the past few years, with a programme to strengthen cooperation among members. Its Water Convention also provides a legal framework for trans-boundary water cooperation, though Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan are so far the only regional signatories. Other organisations, including the Environment and Security Initiative and the East-West Institute are also running programmes to boost regional collaboration.

As great as the challenges are, there are multiple avenues for addressing them. One of the most pressing needs is greater efficiency in water use. By 2015, Afghanistan%26rsquo;s Ministry of Energy and Water hopes to boost efficiency by 45%, while improvements in yields for rain-fed cereal crops in Pakistan could help relieve overall water pressures. Their neighbours can and must similarly boost water productivity. Better watershed management, rainwater harvesting, urban water conservation, investments in sanitation, and more integrated planning are vitally important.

The countries of the region have little influence over global greenhouse emissions trajectories, and hence will need to focus principally on adaptation measures. It is essential to build environmental, social, economic, and political resilience, as well as improve institutional capacities to cope with growing water scarcity and climate impacts. Water cooperation across national boundaries offers important benefits but may not be realised without disinterested, innovative third-party facilitation.

Michael Renner is a senior researcher at the Worldwatch Institute in Washington, DC and senior advisor to the Institute for Environmental Security in Brussels.

A full version of this report was first published by the Norwegian Peacebuilding Centre.

Homepage image from IRIN

Last August, dozens of cars filed out of a gated housing compound in a northern Beijing suburb and paraded through the surrounding streets. Slogans plastered on the vehicles read: %26ldquo;Resolutely oppose garbage incineration.%26rdquo; Just a few days before, the protesters found out that the government had decided to build a waste-to-power plant at A Su Wei three kilometres west of their homes.

Both sides of the debate over China%26rsquo;s rubbish incinerators %26ndash; discussed previously on chinadialogue by Ma Jun (see %26ldquo;Solving the incinerator uproar%26rdquo;) %26ndash; agree that sorting and waste reduction have to feature much more prominently in garbage management, but many questions remain. Slashing the creation of waste is a goal that everyone can applaud. After that, the agreement breaks down. Some argue that thorough sorting and recycling can turn most trash into resources. Others say that the majority is unusable rubbish, and that burning waste for electricity is the best way to reduce the amount of solid waste.

Wei Panming, deputy director in charge of Beijing%26rsquo;s cityscape, said that the city%26rsquo;s garbage output will stop growing by 2015. The districts that exceed growth limits will see their waste-processing fees soar. %26ldquo;You can pay if you are rich,%26rdquo; he said, %26ldquo;or you can reduce the amount of your waste.%26rdquo; Beijing will build more waste-fired power plants, Wei added, and the city will do everything %26ldquo;to maximally protect the interests of neighboring residents.%26rdquo;

However, some city dwellers, such as those near A Su Wei, are not convinced. In addition to public demonstrations, the residents compiled a well-researched report arguing against garbage incineration and sent it to government officials and reporters. %26ldquo;We want to defeat incineration on the policy level,%26rdquo; said Bai Fuqin, a chief organiser of the protest, who asked to use an alias.

Burning trash out in the open or in small furnaces is a practice with a long history in China. In 1985, the southern city of Shenzhen built the country%26rsquo;s first garbage incinerator that converts the heat into electricity. Since then, the government implemented a series of policies, including tax credits and subsidies, to encourage waste-to-power projects. By the end of 2008, there were over 70 incinerators across China. The current number is not known, but certainly many more are in the planning stages.

But protests have spread with the incinerators. Last October, thousands of people blockaded a newly-built incinerator near Wujiang, a city on the eastern seaboard, and forced the government to halt its operation. In November, public demonstrations near the southern metropolis of Guangzhou saw the government delay a waste-to-power plant for further environmental study. In December, residents near Shenzhen, also in the south, protested the building of a third incinerator near their community.

Most public concern is about a family of toxic chemicals called dioxins, which can be generated through combustion. The toxins can damage human immune systems, as well as nervous systems. Some studies show chronic exposure to high levels of dioxins can dramatically increase the risk of cancer among humans. %26ldquo;I have a one-year-old child,%26rdquo; said Tan Sitong, another A Su Wei anti-incinerator activist, and who also uses an alias. %26ldquo;Taking in such toxins will have the most impact on him when he%26rsquo;s growing.%26rdquo;

Advocates for incineration say the public%26rsquo;s fear of dioxins is often based on misleading information from sensational media reports. Dioxins can be reduced to a level that is safe to human health, said Xu Haiyun, chief engineer at the China Research Society of Urban Development. %26ldquo;Technologically there%26rsquo;s no problem. There are many mature cases in the United States and Europe to prove that%26hellip; Taiwan and Macau also have successful examples.%26rdquo;

According to the World Health Organisation, there is a level of exposure to dioxins below which cancer risk would be negligible. China requires that incinerators discharge no more than one nanogram of dioxin per cubic metre. The European Union sets a standard that is one-tenth of that amount.

Beijing officials say that waste-to-power plants will be built according to EU standards.

But that does not placate incineration opponents. %26ldquo;So what if they can reach the EU benchmark?%26rdquo; asked Zhao Zhangyuan, a researcher on environmental protection at the Chinese Academy of Sciences. He has emerged as a leader of China%26rsquo;s anti-incineration movement. Dioxin can stay in the environment for hundreds of years and accumulate in human bodies, therefore, %26ldquo;no one can guarantee that the EU standard won%26rsquo;t be harmful to human health.%26rdquo; And to meet the requirement, %26ldquo;the prescribed procedure has to be strictly followed,%26rdquo; said Zhao. %26ldquo;But in our country, abnormal practices often happen in such a complicated operation.%26rdquo;

Certainly in a number of fields, there are documented examples of companies cutting corners and government officials turning their heads the other way. Even supporters of incineration admit that it is not enough just to import western technology.

Two-thirds of Beijing%26rsquo;s rubbish, said Wei Panming, the city planning official, is kitchen waste. That means the garbage is moist and generates less heat than other types of solid waste. To minimize dioxin, it is critical to keep the temperature in the incinerator above 850 degrees Celsius. Companies therefore often add coal or diesel for extra heat, which costs more and generates more greenhouse-gas emissions. Critics of incineration say there is no trusted body in China to make sure companies are doing the right thing.

The fierce debates on incineration have sometimes turned personal. Some supporters of incineration call Zhao a hoax. Opponents dub scholars like Xu %26ldquo;unscrupulous experts%26rdquo; bought off by business. %26ldquo;Their interests are connected,%26rdquo; said Bai, the activist at A Su Wei, referring to what he considers expert-industry collusion. %26ldquo;There%26rsquo;s no-one to counterbalance them other than the public. And the information available to the public bears no comparison to theirs.%26rdquo;

Public opposition makes it difficult for companies and investors to plan for the long term. %26ldquo;Those in the industry feel confused,%26rdquo; said Wen Yibo, CEO of Beijing Sound Group, which runs the A Su Wei garbage-processing facility. %26ldquo;The government hasn%26rsquo;t stood up and spoken about garbage incineration. Is waste-to-power good or bad? When problems arise, the government seems to be speechless.%26rdquo;

Each side of the debate is looking to the central government for support. Those in the pro-incineration camp are calling for more efforts in a propaganda campaign to inform and educate the public. The opposition wants the government to stop giving financial incentives to waste-fired power plants.

But so far, dramatic policy changes look unlikely. %26ldquo;Turning garbage into a resource and using it is a good thing for sure,%26rdquo; said Xue Huifeng, director of the legislative office of the National People%26rsquo;s Congress. At a Beijing conference on solid waste processing, he said problems surrounding incineration mostly come from the enforcement of the policies, rather than the policies themselves. He affirmed that the government will continue to support waste-to-power. %26ldquo;But I%26rsquo;m talking about giving support according to the law,%26rdquo; he said. %26ldquo;Companies that don%26rsquo;t follow the law certainly won%26rsquo;t receive support.%26rdquo;

That may explain why, at a recent meeting, Beijing officials told A Su Wei residents that they will %26ldquo;resolutely%26rdquo; continue pushing for the building of the incinerator. Hence the struggle continues. %26ldquo;You can talk about governing by law,%26rdquo; said Bai Fuqin. %26ldquo;We can fight for our rights by law.%26rdquo;

Xie Yanmei is a Beijing-based freelance reporter

Homepage image from longquanzs.com

On Commander Ebi%26rsquo;s baseball cap, the logo reads: %26ldquo;Alaska%26rdquo;. Little else connects the 42-year-old %26ndash; who has spent the past five years in a militant camp deep in the tropical creeks of the Niger Delta %26ndash; with the prosperity and polar bears of the northernmost US state.

Except, that is, for oil. But while petroleum has made Alaskans among the wealthiest people in the world%26rsquo;s wealthiest country, Nigeria%26rsquo;s oil province %26ndash; on which the United States depends for nearly one in every 10 barrels of crude it imports %26ndash; has known little but conflict, corruption and misery in the half-century since the first barrel was shipped.

Yet Nigeria%26rsquo;s rulers are hoping a new policy to deliver the benefits of oil to the local population %26ndash; as Alaska does with its pioneering approach of distributing petrodollars in cash to citizens %26ndash; might help placate an insurgency that has cut production by as much as 40%.

That puts them at the frontier of new ideas for solving the problems that oil brings. %26ldquo;Countries that have managed natural resources well are those with powerful constituencies that can stop the government from feeding at the trough [of oil money],%26rdquo; says Todd Moss from the Washington-based Center for Global Development and an advocate of cash distributions. He favours Alaska-style pay-outs, which he says %26ldquo;are a way to manufacture such a constituency%26rdquo;.

Where civil society or non-resource business is weak, Moss points out, natural resources do not put a country on a fast track to development. %26ldquo;Look at Nigeria %26ndash; [US]$300 billion [in oil revenues] over the past three decades, but the average Nigerian has got poorer.%26rdquo;

So thoroughly has crude corroded the contract between government and citizens that most of Nigeria%26rsquo;s 150 million people regard the state more as predator than benefactor. In the delta, thousands of jobless young men extort, kidnap and blow up pipelines under the banner of resistance to a state that has failed them, and oil companies that have despoiled their lands.

A recent amnesty has lured them to surrender their arms for the present. Under government proposals designed to keep the delta from re-arming, the state would hand over 10% stakes in the joint ventures that run Nigeria%26rsquo;s biggest energy industry to %26ldquo;host communities%26rdquo;.

While the proposals could face stiff opposition from elsewhere in the country, they have been approved by ministers and a presidential implementation committee has been created, according to the architect of the plans, Emmanuel Egbogah, special adviser to president Umaru Yar%26rsquo;Adua on petroleum matters. The initiative, he says, is %26ldquo;revolutionary%26rdquo; and will mean that %26ldquo;every community %26ndash; whether blind or deaf or dumb, every citizen %26ndash; will say: %26lsquo;I own a part of this business.%26rsquo; %26rdquo;

Direct cash distributions are perhaps the most radical idea that has emerged from a decade-and-a-half-old movement to transform the way poor states manage their natural resources. That movement sprang from a growing realisation of a %26ldquo;paradox of plenty%26rdquo;: life in resource-rich countries often remains miserable.

Part of the reason is economic. Volatile commodity prices, and the built-in revenue bust inherent in depletable resources, complicate planning. Even in good times, resource economies can suffer from 1970s-style %26ldquo;Dutch disease%26rdquo;: the hard currency a country earns from its oil, gas or minerals distorts its economy, crowding out agriculture or manufacturing.

The other problem is political. States flush with resource revenues have a strong incentive for patronage and outright corruption. Entrepreneurship becomes an effort to %26ldquo;feed at the trough%26rdquo; in rent-seeking that at best fritters away productivity and at worst breaks down the rule of law.

There are exceptions. Norway, Botswana and Chile have harnessed oil, diamonds and copper for national development, giving hope that other countries too may succeed. In 2002 Tony Blair, then the British prime minister, announced the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI), with dozens of governments, mining companies and oil groups pledging to declare payments and revenues. But neither such pledges, nor even the strictures of Washington%26rsquo;s multilateral institutions, can ensure countries keep to the straight and narrow.

Under fire from critics claiming resource extraction harmed the poor, the World Bank in 2000 placed conditions on financing an oil pipeline from Chad to the coast of Cameroon. It required that Chad%26rsquo;s royalties went into a special account rather than the national budget and that all payments were published. A share would be saved for future generations. Withdrawals had to go towards health, education or other social needs.

%26ldquo;It was a beautiful plan on paper %26ndash; but there was nothing to stop the government from reneging on the deal,%26rdquo; says Moss. Chad soon diverted money to military spending. In 2008 the World Bank withdrew from the project. Still, an international consensus emerged on policy for commodity-dependent countries: channel revenues into funds to insulate national budgets; increase transparency of payments; include checks and balances in spending.

Yet not even countries that have adopted such policies may succeed where Chad failed. East Timor%26rsquo;s government raided its savings fund by withdrawing more than the prescribed maximum. Such cases suggest the standard recipe is not enough to end the cycle of corruption. Advocates say only giving the people a direct stake in the resources will mend the bond between state and citizens.

%26ldquo;If every citizen [of Chad] had been entitled to cash payments … the political dynamic would have been very different,%26rdquo; says Moss. %26ldquo;Cash distribution is complementary to transparency efforts; in fact, it would help. If the amount paid out to citizens is different from what the government receives from oil companies, or if this year%26rsquo;s distribution is $52 while last year%26rsquo;s was $58, the government would have to explain that to people.%26rdquo;

The idea is gaining interest. When she was in the US Senate, Hillary Clinton, now secretary of state, sponsored a resolution recommending that Iraq set up a trust fund to distribute part of its oil revenues to the people. Presidential candidates in Iran and Venezuela have mooted the idea too, as has Muammar Gaddafi, Libya%26rsquo;s leader. According to proponents, the scheme could make about US$555 million annually available %26ndash; about $20 a year for every man, woman and child of the delta%26rsquo;s 28 million people, a significant amount in a region where 70% live on less than $1.50 a day.

Nigeria%26rsquo;s oil producing states already receive an extra slice of oil proceeds %26ndash; but much of the money vanishes. Dimieari Von Kemedi, an activist recently drafted into the government of oil-rich Bayelsa state, says his audit of state finances found contracts had been inflated to the tune of 17 billion naira (US$114 million).

Whether the new scheme can avoid such problems is critical to its success. %26ldquo;It will not be like the Alaskan case, when each individual gets his money,%26rdquo; Egbogah says. The intended option is a system of trust funds administered at the behest of each community %26ndash; bypassing the delta%26rsquo;s state and local governments.

By receiving a share in the proceeds of an oil industry they have long resented, delta dwellers would have an incentive to facilitate production, Egbogah reasons. But even so, critics warn that trusts risk replicating what they say is oil companies%26rsquo; practice of allocating funds to some communities in order to safeguard their own facilities, generating resentment in less favoured settlements.

A heated debate one recent morning in the royal hut of the Edagberi clan suggests the tensions that could emerge. %26ldquo;Some communities, they only have a pipeline or access road,%26rdquo; says Anigbo Williams, 52, chief of one of the clan%26rsquo;s six communities. %26ldquo;If you give him with his one well [a payment] and come and give me with 44 wells the same, you have a problem: we will feel we have been cheated.%26rdquo;

The proposals come at a critical moment not just for the delta. Tensions and a sense of paralysis are mounting with each day that the ailing Yar%26rsquo;Adua remains in the Saudi hospital to which he was rushed in November. The government is in the thick of oil industry reforms. It wants to incorporate the state oil company %26ndash; long regarded as a vessel of patronage %26ndash; and formalise loose joint ventures.

Oil companies are fighting tougher terms and negotiating renewals of 40-year leases on prime oil blocks. Adding the 10% plan into the mix heightens what was already a sense of make or break ahead of elections due in 2011.

All the while, the delta holds its breath. %26ldquo;It is left to [the government] to do something that will be favourable to each and every one of us in this part of the country,%26rdquo; says the Alaska-capped Ebi. But he warns that a badly executed plan would have harsh consequences, bringing new vigour to the guerrilla campaign to disrupt oil production. %26ldquo;If we are not developed, we will bounce back to the creeks. We are not afraid.%26rdquo;

Delta proposals

Can the centre hold together an oil fund handout?

The title of Nigeria%26rsquo;s most famous novel, Chinua Achebe%26rsquo;s Things Fall Apart, hangs like a perpetual warning over a country of 150 million disparate people stitched together under British rule, writes Tom Burgis. Predictions of imminent unravelling are often alarmist but the tension %26ndash; broadly between the mainly Muslim north and mainly Christian south %26ndash; is real, particularly over the distribution of oil wealth.

Another rift between the 28 million people of the crude-producing Niger delta and the rest has been sharpened by proposals to grant delta residents 10% stakes in oil ventures, to be taken from the national oil company%26rsquo;s holdings.

The proposals%26rsquo; architects hope to give people who have long resented the oil industry an incentive to support it. Others fear that acknowledging the delta%26rsquo;s rights to %26ldquo;ownership%26rdquo; could increase discord. After a string of initiatives to placate the volatile region, one northern legislator speaks for many when he says the delta has already been offered %26ldquo;too many carrots%26rdquo;. To which many Ijaw, the delta%26rsquo;s biggest ethnic group, retort: give us our due or let us go our own way.

When civil war broke out in 1967, the central government, terrified of losing the delta%26rsquo;s newly drilled oilfields to secessionists, declared all natural resources state property. Today, however, the delta oil-producing states, where poverty is often less acute than in the north, receive 13% of oil proceeds before the remainder is shared out among all 36 states. Once the proceeds of a multibillion-dollar trade in stolen crude are included, the delta looks awash with cash. But, with graft and mismanagement, little reaches its inhabitants, even if oil spills do.

Nonetheless, delta leaders demand that the extra share is raised to 50%, arguing that the same principle could be applied to the barely exploited natural resources of other regions.

Privately, at least one minister expresses willingness to concede to delta demands if it would end militant attacks on the oil industry. The proposals%26rsquo; authors calculate that, with a restructuring of the national oil company, the treasury would lose only about 2% of oil revenues.

Yet striking such a bargain would be delicate %26ndash; especially for president Umaru Yar%26rsquo;Adua, who draws much of his political capital from his northern home city. By diverting oil revenues directly to deltans, he might break the hold of militant commanders. But by bypassing the state authorities, he risks alienating the delta barons of the ruling party ahead of 2011 elections. Everyone else will be left to ponder whether there is more prising them apart than holding them together.

http://www.ft.com/home/uk

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010

Homepage image from City of Refuge Africa

Figures from China’s first national pollution survey were jointly released by the Ministry of Environmental Protection (MEP), the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) and the Ministry of Agriculture (MOA) on February 9 %26ndash; the first results of the two-year long undertaking to be made public. The information released on this occasion was an overview of national macro data and the changes seen in some major emission indices have consequences for China’s overall pollution-reduction efforts.

The new figures show that emissions of some pollutants are far above the levels made public in the past. Take Chemical Oxygen Demand (COD), an important measure of the degree of water pollution, as an example. In 2007, the China Environmental Report put overall national COD at 13.818 million tonnes. The new survey, which includes previously omitted sources of pollution such as agriculture, more than doubled this figure to 30.2896 million tonnes. Similar increases were seen in industrial solid wastes, which are particularly hazardous substances. Worryingly, these updated figures put levels of pollution far beyond environmental capacity %26ndash; the amount of pollution the environment is able to absorb.

Research by environmental-planning authorities puts national COD capacity at 7.4 million tonnes. That means that, even accepting the 2007 figures, COD levels would have to be cut by half in order to reach the carrying capacity of the environment. But the new data has calculated total COD at more than four times environmental capacity. The 11th Five Year Plan called for a reduction in COD of 10%, leaving you wondering how many five-year periods it will take to reduce levels to a point at which China’s rivers can flow clean.

Although the news is bad, we should not lose confidence in our ability to bring pollution under control. The release of this information is an extension of the government’s commitment to greater environmental openness, a positive trend that started in 2004 and is worthy of affirmation. Facing the problem lays the foundation for solving it and we need an accurate picture of the situation if we are to produce a realistic and practical pollution strategy.

First, we need to reach a consensus. The huge increase in emissions requires greater efforts to cut pollution %26ndash; in particular water contamination and hazardous waste. Next, all levels of government should make good use of this hard-won data.

Central government should use this more comprehensive and reliable information to re-examine the overall policy direction and make major adjustments to future pollution-reduction targets in order to achieve a basic balance between development and protection. Local government should use the data to understand pollution within their jurisdictions, cease the use of unrealistic estimates of environmental capacity to justify the expansion of energy-hungry and polluting industries and protect the land and water.

Meanwhile, this basic data %26ndash; obtained at great public expense %26ndash; should be steadily released to the public rather than restricted to government, particularly information on the release of toxic and harmful substances by industry. These substances are a direct threat to health and safety and the release of this data will assist the public in understanding local environmental risks and better protecting environmental interests. The release of the data will also promote public participation in environmental decision making and management. And developed-nation experiences show that the regular and mandatory publication of data on pollution sources encourages industry to save power and cut emissions.

If releasing the results of this pollution survey can kick start a system where data on emissions from pollution sources is regularly published, it will have a deep and long-lasting impact on future pollution control.

Ma Jun is director of the Institute of Public and Environmental Affairs.

Homepage Image from Greenpeace

In late 2008, reports claimed that pesticide residue in peanuts grown in one county in Shandong, eastern China, were at potentially fatal levels. Official investigations discredited the rumours and peanut-lovers continue to enjoy their snack. But issues in peanut-growing, such as the use of toxic chemicals and agricultural membranes, remain unaddressed.

Peanut farmers know there is a range of factors that can reduce harvests, including pests such as beetle larvae. And, for the majority of farmers, the only way to deal with pests is powerful toxic pesticides, such as the long-banned %26ldquo;666%26rdquo;. In addition, agricultural membranes %26ndash; thin plastic sheets %26ndash; are often laid over fields of peanuts and other crops in order to prevent the evaporation or run-off of water and fertiliser and to reduce weed growth. But these membranes are difficult to gather up after use, and are usually abandoned by the side of fields, polluting the soil.

%26ldquo;Our existing agricultural methods cut off ecological cycles,%26rdquo; says Jiang Gaoming, chief researcher at the Chinese Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Botany and a columnist for chinadialogue. %26ldquo;We need to restore and make use of those natural cycles.%26rdquo;

Since 2007, Jiang’s research team has rented 27,000 square metres of land in Shandong, eastern China, to use as the Hongyi Organic Farm. The project aims to demonstrate organic farming practices, exploring commercially-viable forms of organic agriculture and attempting to grow the most successful organic crops in China.

The idea of organic agriculture originated in Europe and, by the year 2000, it was being used to some degree in 141 nations. But the amount of farmland dedicated to the practice in Asia remains fairly low compared to Europe, where organic methods are relatively widespread.

However, as living standards and awareness of environmental issues have increased in recent years, China has started catching up with the west in enthusiasm for organic farming, although high prices and inconsistent certification have left many consumers unconvinced about organic products and reluctant to buy them.

Jiang explains: %26ldquo;We have stopped all use of pesticides, herbicides, fertilisers, membranes and additives and we don’t use anything genetically modified; we’re testing the role of organic agriculture in maintaining yields and improving profits. In just three years, we have already seen the power of this approach.%26rdquo;

Jiang is no mere follower of fashion. He believes that, if Chinese agriculture fails to move towards organic practices, the nation’s soil will lose its last remnants of fertility. Like so many other commercial operations that have failed to account for environmental factors in business planning, the farming sector has long ignored the vital role of the soil. As a result, agricultural membranes, fertilisers, pesticides and herbicides have turned rich, dark earth pale.

But is it possible just to do away with chemicals in farming? What about their role in fighting disease and pests? China uses 7% of the world’s arable land to feed 20% of the world’s people %26ndash; a miracle made possible by the use of over 1.2 million tonnes of chemicals annually.

%26ldquo;Farmers use 50 yuan (US$7.30) of toxic chemicals for every 667 square metres of peanuts planted but this still doesn’t bring the pests completely under control. Our costs are much lower,%26rdquo; Jiang points out. In one of the team’s small fields, pesticides have been replaced with two lamps that use light of a particular spectrum to attract insects to traps. %26ldquo;It doesn’t catch all of them but it achieves an ecological balance,%26rdquo; says Jiang. %26ldquo;Even if the insects aren’t there, the lights won’t do any harm.%26rdquo;

The lights can attract up to 4.5 kilograms of insects a night. But, due to insect lifecycles, they are only caught on 70 nights of the year. In the last year, the farm has collected over 100 kilograms of insect larvae to use as feed supplements.

The farm also uses manual labour or mowers rather than weed-killer to remove weeds, which are then fed to locusts and freshwater fish. The income from this is enough to employ two farm labourers all year round. A 120-strong herd of cattle is fed using straw and cattle dung is used to produce methane to provide energy for the farm, with the waste products returned to the fields as high quality, organic fertiliser.

According to Jiang Gaoming’s research, up to 70% of fertiliser used in China is wasted and overuse of such chemicals is a serious problem. He believes organic fertiliser could help China’s agriculture move from a sector that is %26ldquo;high cost, high output, high pollution%26rdquo; to one that is %26ldquo;low cost, low output, no pollution%26rdquo;.

Can improving soil fertility and using organic practices result in lower costs than traditional methods? Organic grains and vegetables currently cost three to five times as much as normal equivalents on the market, while leeks and celery from Shandong province sell for 20 yuan (US$2.9) per half kilogram.

One person who believes low costs are feasible is Zhan Peilin, chairman of Rizhao Yikang Organic Technology. His company’s microbial organic fertiliser is made out of sludge waste from kelp processing and bacteria imported from Japan, and trials have shown it is as effective as its chemical equivalents. However, he says state subsidies and preferential policies for chemical fertilisers are reducing the competitiveness of alternatives.

Zhan also believes that Jiang’s farm suffers from a disconnect between production and the market. %26ldquo;As soon as production expands, you’ll find the market is too small, unless you are providing animal proteins for food processors,%26quot; he says, after visiting the locust-feeding hut. He adds that a single farm running a range of operations will incur higher management and business costs than larger ventures. And, with food safety legislation and monitoring still in need of improvement, only corporations %26ndash; with their strong management and concern for corporate reputation %26ndash; can be relied upon to provide accountability.

The farm is currently helping local farmer Jiang Gaoyu raise free-range chickens, using the %26ldquo;organic space%26rdquo; between crops. %26ldquo;In theory, the bigger an organic farm gets, the better the ecological and economic results are; management costs go down and more jobs are created,%26rdquo; says Jiang. His immediate goal is to persuade the villagers to dedicate 67,000 square metres of land to organic agriculture, with a long-term goal of converting the village%26rsquo;s entire 667,000 square kilometres to the practice.

As well as peanuts, the farm grows around 20 types of grain and vegetable, including wheat, corn, soya, green beans, chives, celery, potatoes, onions and garlic. These now carry an %26ldquo;organic%26rdquo; label and are described as high-standard, high-quality products, with no chemicals, fertilisers, additives or artificial compounds used. It seems that, after the excitement of increased yields brought about by such substances, followed by a period of overuse, those at the cutting edge of farming in China have decided to sever links with chemicals after seeing the damage done to the soil.

Despite a disappointing yield from the first crop of corn due to waterlogging, Jiang and his students remain confident. They believe that patience and constant experimentation are essential. It was the urgent quest for immediate results that led the farming industry to ignore soil quality in the first place, and to use fertilisers, chemicals and membranes, creating hard, polluted, infertile and unsustainable soil.

Jiang believes the farm’s role as a demonstration project is more important than commercial success. But farmers need more than faith; they need reliable models and a stable income before they can be persuaded to abandon conventional practices.

Many agricultural experts share Jiang%26rsquo;s views and hope to save the soil %26ndash; and the farming industry %26ndash; through organic practices. For seven years, the Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences has been running a project investigating key technologies for new types of multifunctional microbial fertiliser. Yuan Longping, the 79-year-old %26ldquo;father of hybrid rice%26rdquo;, is hopeful he will see 1,000 kilograms of super-hybrid rice produced per 667 square-metre harvest by the time he is 90. But, for now, eating healthily and eating enough remains no easy task for China%26rsquo;s 1.3 billion people.

Meng Si is managing editor at chinadialogue%26rsquo;s Beijing branch

Editors’ message

Until recently, carbon capture and storage (CCS) was a phrase largely reserved for detailed discussions in university laboratories or the research divisions of energy giants. That is not the case today. The technology, which captures carbon dioxide produced by fossil-fuel combustion and stores it in deep geological formations, such as oil fields, now occupies a prominent position in climate-change policymaking and the public debate around cutting carbon.

Held up by its advocates as a way of reducing carbon emissions while maintaining a secure energy supply, CCS has gained significant traction with the world%26rsquo;s governments. The United States, United Kingdom, Canada and Australia are among the countries to have pledged large sums of public money to high-profile demonstration projects in the last two years. CCS is considered to be particularly important development for China, where around 70% of energy needs are still met by coal. A commercial-scale %26quot;clean coal%26quot; project is already under way in the city of Tianjin, in north China, but researchers, such as Stanford University%26rsquo;s He Gang, argue more is needed to promote widespread adoption.

The technology%26rsquo;s enormous expense %26ndash; the cost of one CCS plant is currently estimated at around US$1.5 billion (10.7 billion yuan) %26ndash; still stands in the way of rapid deployment. And it has been criticised by some for being a %26ldquo;plaster%26rdquo; for global ills rather than an attempt to deal with the root cause. But more and more policymakers, non-governmental organisations and academics are backing it as one of the many solutions required to cut carbon dioxide output, saying it is an advanced technology with a ready skills base %26ndash; injecting carbon dioxide underground is an established practice in the oil and gas industry.

CCS is attracting huge global attention. And this week, chinadialogue will look at some of the key issues surrounding its development. Logan West kicks off the series with an explanation of the process%26rsquo;s storage aspects, while Li Jia and Liang Xi analyse the financial stumbling blocks and possible solutions. Later in the week, the Natural Resources Defense Council presents a detailed account of CCS development in China and the global cooperation needed to promote it. As always, we are keen to hear your views, so do please leave a comment %26ndash; and get involved in the conversation.

Carbon capture and storage (CCS) is a classic relocation-style response, like landfill or water diversion, that is steadily picking up steam. In fact, the International Energy Agency forecasts that CCS will contribute over 10 gigatonnes of carbon-dioxide emissions reductions in 2050, compared to 11 gigatonnes for renewables.

Why the optimism? The concept is simple, the technology exists, industry is proven to have the capacity and CCS is an adaptation, rather than overthrow, of the existing system. That said, CCS lacks neither flaws %26ndash; energy inefficiency, high costs %26ndash; nor detractors. While the topic heats up, details of the process itself often get lost in the debate. But an understanding of carbon-dioxide storage is essential to continuing the discussion.

For the non-geologist majority, storage can be difficult to conceptualise. Where does the carbon dioxide actually go? How does it stay there? What happens if it escapes? The storage process presents the riskiest and most uncertain part of any CCS project. Not only can carbon-dioxide release be hazardous, but its escape also undermines the whole process and wastes a lot of time and money doing so.

So how does storage work? It is important to understand that the carbon dioxide being stored is not like the carbon dioxide people exhale every day. The hot, high-pressure conditions of the kilometre-deep storage zones force carbon dioxide into a supercritical state with a liquid-like density, leading it to %26ldquo;flow%26rdquo;, which restricts its buoyancy.

This carbon dioxide is pumped into what geologists call a reservoir. Beneath our feet are layers of rocks, typically stacked one on top of the other. Reservoirs are layers in which fluids like water %26ndash; called aquifers %26ndash; and oil or gases accumulate. The key characteristic of reservoirs is that the rocks contain a lot of interconnected, open pore space, which fluids can move through and fill. The injected carbon dioxide %26ldquo;plume%26rdquo; does exactly this.

There are four main mechanisms for keeping the carbon dioxide plume where it is. The single most important factor is the cap-rock, an impermeable layer above the reservoir that holds in the plume the same way that a bottle cap shuts in the carbonation in a bottle of soda. It is essential that cap-rocks, among other traits, are spread over the whole area of the plume %26ndash; up to 100 square kilometres %26ndash; and are free of escape pathways such as leaky faults. The cap-rock and other unique geological structures are the frontline for containing carbon dioxide.

As the plume permeates through the pore spaces, the carbon dioxide becomes trapped as some channels are too tight for it to squeeze through. Then, as the gas interacts with the water in the reservoir, some of it dissolves. Once dissolved, the carbon dioxide loses all buoyancy and cannot move on its own. Eventually, a share of the dissolved substance reacts with the rocks to form minerals, solidifying the carbon dioxide in the subsurface, where it will stay for millions of years.

There is plenty of evidence indicating that these trapping mechanisms have been, are and ought to be successful. Naturally occurring carbon dioxide accumulations have been trapped in the subsurface worldwide for millions of years. Meanwhile, ongoing international demonstration projects are successfully conducting CCS. This has led the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) to state that, when done right, 99% of the carbon dioxide stored is likely to be retained 1,000 years after injection %26ndash; time enough to find emission-free energy.

Still, there are a great number of unknowns. In geology, no two locations will ever be exactly the same. Thus, unlike capture technology, there is no %26ldquo;one size fits all%26rdquo; blueprint for carbon dioxide storage. And, while tools help us image the subsurface, they can only provide a sketch of the reality. Regardless of how thoroughly a site is examined, predicting the movement and reaction of carbon dioxide in the subsurface still involves a lot of guesswork. Experience and data do, however, lower the uncertainty and that is why oil fields make likely first-generation storage targets. Their geology is well understood and the carbon dioxide can sometimes be used to push out previously unrecoverable reserves.

The uncertainty can be managed if regulators and project operators work together to ensure that storage is carried out with the highest precautions and attention to efficacy. The key to successful storage is picking the safest site, analysing potential locations to identify one that will not only trap the carbon dioxide but also has the space to hold it all and allows the gas to be pumped in as fast as it arrives from the source.

To back up such research, collected data should be used to develop models of the reservoir that can simulate what the carbon dioxide is likely to do. Monitoring tools should then be put in place to track what it actually does and to test for leakage. Models and monitoring will function in tandem, with an ongoing assessment of the possible risks and plans for fixing leakage should it occur. Regulators should carefully review all preparation work and data before awarding permits for storage sites. They should also consult with local communities. This makes data transparency essential.

Even with all the precautions, carbon dioxide can still leak and the side effects can be serious. While normally non-toxic, heavy concentrations of carbon dioxide in the air can be deadly to humans and plant life. Such serious side effects are only caused by the rapid release of large volumes of carbon dioxide, which is unlikely to happen. However, more plausible, slow seepage of the gas from storage reservoirs can still be hazardous. Carbon dioxide that escapes into shallow aquifers nearer to the surface will react with the water to form a weak acid that can render groundwater non-potable or unusable for agriculture and industry. This acid could even leach toxic metals from the rocks or soils, which would worsen the health and environmental effects. Even carbon dioxide escaping harmlessly back into the atmosphere still contributes to greenhouse-gas emissions.

This raises the following question: is storage feasible? Technically, yes. Economically, yes; storage costs vary depending on the site but typically account for only 5% of the total project. But what about those estimates suggesting China can hold as much as 2,300 gigatonnes of carbon dioxide %26ndash; or 100 years%26rsquo; worth of emissions at the country%26rsquo;s current rate? Don%26rsquo;t let these estimates instill false optimism. They are theoretical figures. So much is still unknown that the true capacity is hard to predict. Geological data in China is still limited and little is actually known about the saline aquifers that show the greatest potential.

Where there is data, it is proprietary knowledge of oil companies, which are reluctant to share it freely. Similarly, some spots good for carbon dioxide storage may lead to conflicts of interest if they possess other important resources. Furthermore, China%26rsquo;s reservoirs tend to be very complex, with abundant faulting that potentially compromises safe containment. Even at top-priority oil reservoirs, issues exist due to the number of old exploration wells that need to be located and plugged to prevent carbon dioxide from escaping.

Finally, just because a site makes geological sense, does not necessarily mean it is practically viable. It does not make economic sense to pump carbon dioxide from Shanghai in the east of China to Xinjiang province in the west, just because there is a good reservoir there. Nor does it yet make sense to pump carbon dioxide directly under Beijing or other heavily populated regions. The uncertainties are still too high to justify taking the risk that the gas might leak and, at the very least, damage water resources.

Still, China may well possess many gigatonnes of realistic storage space %26ndash; enough to play a significant role %26ndash; and this is where discussion can move back to the big picture of costs, policy and beyond.

Logan West is a researcher at the Tsinghua-BP Clean Energy Research and Education Centre in Beijing.

Homepage image by %26Oslash;yvind Hagen for Norway’s Statoil shows the Sleipner CCS facility in the North Sea.

Over the last two decades, awareness has grown that carbon capture and storage (CCS) could be an important technology in the fight to reduce greenhouse gas emissions; more than 20 large-scale demonstration projects are now in the pipeline. According a 2009 report from the International Energy Agency, CCS in the power and industrial sectors is likely to represent 10% of total emissions reductions by 2030.

As most major economies have already made a commitment to controlling greenhouse gas emissions, ideally no new fossil-fuel power plants, oil-refinery and steel plants or cement kilns would be permitted unless they were built with full-scale CCS facilities. Widespread deployment of large-scale CCS is, however, facing two major challenges: a lack of experience in building and operating commercial-scale integrated CCS projects and insufficient financial incentives to provide a fair return for investors. Before these challenges can be addressed, new fossil-fuel combustion plants in the next decade should be designed and built using the carbon capture ready (CCR) approach in order to ease retrofitting of CCS in the future.

Some stakeholders are concerned that CCS technologies are not yet proven because of a lack of industrial projects. This view is not entirely correct. More than 100 industrial CCS projects are being developed and about 20 are currently in operation, including the Statoil-Sleipner one million-tonne per year storage project in Norway, the 30 megawatt Vatternfall-Schwarze Pumpe pilot plant in Germany and the Huaneng-Gaobeidian 3000-tonne per year post-combustion capture pilot in China. A few projects have been running for more than 10 years.

The real issue is a lack of large-scale schemes. According to the United Kingdom%26rsquo;s Stern Review, capturing carbon dioxide from fossil-fuel power stations is essential to delivering steep cuts in emissions. But no existing CCS project is yet capturing carbon dioxide from power stations at a rate of more than one million tonnes per year.

The European Union hopes to have at least 10 demonstration projects up and running by 2015 and is preparing a knowledge-sharing framework for CCS, though the timetable appears to be slipping. The US energy secretary Steven Chu has announced a similarly ambitious target: the United States could have 10 to 12 commercial demonstration projects operational by 2016 and ready for a wider commercial deployment by 2019. The Australian government, meanwhile, is providing 100 million Australian dollars (US$90 million) per year for a Global Carbon Capture and Storage Institute (GCCSI) to support demonstration projects worldwide. And, while the Chinese government has not yet aggressively supported CCS demonstration projects, large state-owned energy companies such as Huaneng Group, GreenGen and Shenhua have proposed a number of large-scale schemes. Several bilateral and multilateral initiatives have also been established in order to accelerate the sharing of risk, funding and knowledge, including the Carbon Sequestration Leadership Forum, the FutureGen Alliance, and the UK-EU-China Near Zero Emissions Coal (NZEC) initiative plus the GCCSI.

Examples of three types of capture technology %26ndash; post-combustion, pre-combustion, and separation from industrial process %26ndash; are in commercial use for non-CCS applications. A fourth, oxy-fuel, is still in the pilot demonstration phase. However, more research and demonstration are needed to make %26ldquo;capture%26rdquo; economically feasible and technically proven at the scale, and under the conditions, required for CCS-relevant applications.

Once the carbon dioxide is captured, it has to be transported to a suitable and secure storage site %26ndash; a pipeline is the most economic way to do this %26ndash; and can then be injected into deep geological formations for storage. The oil and gas industry has experience injecting large quantities of carbon dioxide into saline formations and oil and gas fields and the technology is reasonably mature. Thus most CCS technologies are ready to deploy and have established suppliers. The priorities in their development are achieving cost reductions and demonstrating full-system integration.

So what are the costs? According to a study by energy consultancy P%26ouml;yry for the UK government, the abatement cost for carbon capture in 2015 is likely to be US$41 (280 yuan) to US$57 (389 yuan) per tonne of carbon dioxide for capturing from coal or natural-gas power stations, and the cost for storing and monitoring carbon dioxide in saline aquifer US$1.60 (10.9 yuan) to US$3.20 (21.8 yuan) per tonne of carbon dioxide. A special report on CCS from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change suggests the cost of transportation is US$1 (6.8 yuan) to US$6 (41 yuan) per tonne for a 250 kilometre pipeline carrying five-million tonnes per year but the actual number is sensitive to location and land cost.

According to a study by consultant McKinsey %26amp; Company published in 2008, the total cost of initial CCS demonstration projects between 2012 and 2015 is likely be around US$84 (574 yuan) to US$127 (867 yuan) per tonne of carbon dioxide and reduce to US$49 (335 yuan) to US$70 (478 yuan) per tonne abated shortly after 2020. However, if a discount rate is applied to reflect the uncertainties in CCS investment, the cost goes up by US$13 (89 yuan) to US$15 (102 yuan) per tonne.

CCS in developing countries may have a cost advantage. The NZEC project and China-EU collaboration, COACH, suggest the full CCS costs could be US$35 (239 yuan) to US$42 (287 yuan) per tonne of carbon dioxide abated in large scale projects. However, this advantage may be much reduced in 2020 as labour costs, capital costs and currency value tend to rise faster in developing countries. An established CCS methodology in the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) could potentially provide a substantial amount of financial support to kick-start early CCS demonstration projects in the developing world. However, support solely from CDM is not enough. Since carbon abatement costs in demonstration projects are much higher than the current market price of certified emissions reductions (CER), additional financial incentives from the public sector are likely to be the main driver for CCS demonstration projects around the world in the next decade.

The vast majority of global stakeholders share a consensus that CCS is an important technology for reducing greenhouse gas emissions. However, among the lay public, renewable and efficient appliances are perceived to be slightly more positive than CCS. The lack of awareness and information among policymakers and the general population has become a barrier in deploying CCS at scale.

The energy penalty is one limitation of CCS. Capturing and compressing carbon dioxide may increase the fuel needs of coal-fired power plants by more than 25%. Interestingly, most stakeholder consultations carried out in major developed economies have concluded that development of CCS will enhance energy security because a number of people in developed countries believe coal plants will not be permitted in the absence of CCS in the near future. However, Chinese stakeholders tend to frame CCS technologies as a threat to national energy security because they believe they could result in a higher import rate for coal. Some are also concerned about operational safety issues and coal-mining accidents.

Before CCS becomes economically feasible, power stations will continue to be built and emit carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. According to an IEA estimate, coal-fired generation is likely to grow by 2.5 times in China and 3.5 times in India during between 2007 and 2030. Modifications to make new plants carbon-capture ready are important for easing the retrofit of CCS. Developers of capture-ready plants should take responsibility for ensuring that all known factors in their control that would prevent installation and operation of carbon-dioxide capture have been identified and eliminated.

For pulverised-coal power plants, the carbon-capture ready investment is modest; less than 1% of the original fixed-capital expense, according to IEA estimates. However, it could reduce the possibility of early closure by 7% to 10% and increase the possibility of retrofitting by 5% to 7%, according to a 2009 study by the UK-China Chinese Advanced Power Plants Carbon Capture Option (CAPPCCO). A survey of 103 power plants in China by CAPPCO indicated nearly half of Chinese coal-fired power plants, none of which were built to be capture ready, would be unviable for retrofit.

The success of CCS will depend on a series of factors being realised. First, sufficient financial and political supports, plus explicit early-mover benefits, are needed to create an acceptable investment environment for demonstration projects. Second, such projects must prove the reliability and safety of CCS technologies and find efficient financial and operational models. Third, substantial cost reductions need to be achieved through technological innovation and the carbon price must become stable and high enough to justify CCS investment. And fourth, a more effective communication framework is necessary to improve the understanding of CCS among policymakers, energy entrepreneurs and the lay public.

Finally, once CCS becomes economically feasible, it should be possible to implement the technologies in every new fossil fuel plant and to retrofit some existing plants %26ndash; with priority for those that were built to be carbon capture ready.

Li Jia is chief executive of LinksChina Investment Advisory Limited, founder of CaptureReady.com and a PhD candidate in mechanical engineering at Imperial College, London. Xi Liang is a research associate in the Electricity Policy Research Group at the University of Cambridge.

Hompage image from Vattenfall shows its Schwarze Pumpe oxyfuel pilot plant in Spremberg, Germany.