Here in Michigan, we are a bit smug when it comes to climate change. We think of ourselves as unusually well positioned for the increasingly dire future we can see for the planet.
Geography favors us. Hurricanes, droughts, and wildfires feel reassuringly remote. True, ice storms and other severe weather events are more frequent than they used to be, but compared to other parts of the country the climate here is relatively benign.
Our confidence stems, first, from our northern location, where global warming has made our cold winters generally more comfortable than they once were, and where the summers only occasionally get higher than the mid-80s.
But the real source of our confidence, or smugness if you like, comes from the four Great Lakes that surround us. We have, as a state, access to a full one-fifth of the world’s fresh water. In that sense, there’s no place like it in the world.
And make no mistake, water is already a crisis in many parts of the world, including large sections of this country. Much of the Southwest, including Southern California, is far too dependent on one river system, the Colorado, to sustain multiple major cities, not to mention the huge agricultural base that feeds much of the country.
How much oil would the Saudis trade for a tiny fraction of our water supply? It’s quite possible that water will eventually become more valuable than oil, and sooner than we think.
Together with our Ontario neighbors, we’ve been reasonably good stewards of the natural bounty we have. Yes, there’s a constant battle between industrial interests and conservationists. Yes, there’s always a dispute about the role of government on both sides of the border. Yes, there are always environmental issues to be dealt with — industrial waste, algae blooms, lampreys, zebra mussels and other invasive species — that threaten the ecological equilibrium in ways that can hurt everybody. And yes, there’s Trump’s compulsive need to make Canadians hate us as much as possible.
But for the most part, the Great Lake State promises to carry environmental benefits well into the future. Right?
Not so fast. It turns out there’s a danger we hadn’t anticipated, and it’s a doozy: wildfire smoke. Smoke that any trace of smugness just went up in.
Over a thousand wildfires are currently burning out of control all over Canada. Last week, the combination of crazy-hot temperatures and fickle wind patterns blew highly toxic smoke all over the continent. In this country, it was the Northern states, including Michigan, that bore the brunt of it.
Most of these fires are occurring in areas of Canada so remote, there are no roads anywhere near them. Moreover, they’re all in the “boreal” forest, which is, believe it or not, the largest land biome on Earth. In a boreal forest, fire is part of the natural order — some species of pine can’t even release their seeds without the help of periodic burns — so there’s nothing new about boreal wildfires.
What is new is the heat domes that now form over that forest, drying out the trees and priming them for quick combustions. Lightning generally provides the spark, and it doesn’t take much in those conditions. Once there’s an ignition, the fires take on a life of their own, blown south by the winds.
The word ‘smog’ has been with us so long, we almost forget that it’s a portmanteau of ‘smoke’ and ‘fog.’ In the Detroit area, we were reminded of this, and quite rudely. For two days, Detroit and Toledo were smoky, foggy hellscapes. They were, briefly, the most polluted cities in the world, though Toronto might dispute that claim. The Air Quality Index was over 500, on a scale where half that number is rated “Very Unhealthy,” and where a “Hazardous” rating starts at 300.
So the health risk is real, and scary. Wildfire smoke consists of tiny particulates that easily penetrate deep into the lungs, then into the bloodstream, driving all sorts of health problems, from asthma to heart attacks to strokes. One Canadian study estimated that a similar crisis in 2023 was responsible for 8,300 premature deaths in Canada and, we can guess, several times that number in the U.S.
So we broke out the old N95 masks from our Covid days. We bought air purifiers. We pushed our furnace filters up to MERV 13. And we hunkered down inside, grateful for a reasonably airtight house. Even so, our throats got scratchy and our eyes would water the minute we ventured outside.
No single wildfire can be attributed to global warming, but taken in aggregate, there is little doubt that planet abuse is a major factor in what we’re going through. And as with all environmental matters, it’s getting worse. The regime is not just neglecting what is now a full-blown crisis, they’re actively aggravating it, seemingly as policy.
Ever since Trump took office for the second time, I’ve known that his malignant incompetence would in time affect everyone, but I’ve since wondered how long before it would affect me personally. While the current price of most things in my life has gone up noticeably on his watch, this has not yet risen to the level of hardship, knock wood.
But this smoke thing is a punch in the gut. We must now assume Canadian wildfires will happen every summer — predictably unpredictably — for as long as there’s boreal forest to fuel them. This introduces an unwelcome element of randomness into my summers that goes beyond mere inconvenience. It could actually shorten my life.
I would be happy to blame Trump entirely for this incipient environmental collapse, but the truth is Republicans have been heading down this path for decades. Scientists were warning about global warming in the seventies, long before Trump labelled it a hoax, and they were right in every respect. The problem should have at least been addressed, if not solved, long ago. But the deep vein of anti-science, anti-intellectual myopia that has long defined the Republican party is now threatening the entire planet.
I wish I could say this was hyperbole, but I fear it’s actually understatement. And it’s hard to escape the notion that we’re getting what we deserve.
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