Opinions

Murkowski should help US take steps against climate change

This week, it's the sea stars. All along the coast, millions of sea stars have been washing up dead, victims of a new virus in the marine ecosystem. What's interesting, and rather scary, is that the virus seems to have been present for decades without causing much damage. Then, for reasons yet unknown to scientists, the virus mutated and became lethal.

Even more concerning is that the virus itself doesn't actually kill the starfish -- it just weakens them so much that they become susceptible to bacterial infections. The result has been seen all along the Pacific coast -- sea stars are found covered with lesions. Some have limbs falling off. Others are reduced to goo. It's like a bad Halloween zombie movie, only this is real life.

So far, Alaska's cold waters seem to be protecting our stars from what has wiped out many of the more southerly stars. But one look outside makes one wonder how much longer that will hold.

November is not a good month. It's dark when you get up and dark when you get home. Even on a clear day, the sun is low on the horizon, if you happen to catch it at all. By December, we've mostly adjusted, and there are the holidays to enjoy, and lots of things going on. But in November, it feels like we've gone into a dark tunnel, and this year is worse than usual for much of Alaska because there is no snow. Snow is beautiful, clean, and best of all, it reflects back any light that manages to sneak into our sky. Instead, much of the state has been pummeled with rain and wind and more rain. And dark. Lots of that, too.

Meanwhile, the Lower 48 is waist-deep in the white stuff. As of press time, New York was all over the news with pictures of unspeakable piles of snow that look like something from Valdez, not our neighbors to the far south. For ski enthusiasts, it's almost too much to take.

But while the weather is just about always a source of conversation, the past few years have been undeniably notable in Alaska. Last January, weeks of warm weather snapped records and confused plants. A few years before, gardeners in some regions saw 20-year-old perennials die after winter rains were followed by a hard freeze. There have been storms so big they look like some sort of psychedelic painting from the '60s in the satellite photos. We've had droughts and extreme wildfires, floods and record snowfalls. Alaska's weather, it seems, is only predictable now in its unpredictability. And the rest of the continent is coming right along with us.

But while humans can throw on another coat or trade our snow boots for XtraTufs, the rest of the plants and animals in Alaska can't. Almost every week now, there's some news of a species suffering some unexplainable illness, populations declining or all but vanishing before our eyes, never-before-seen species in this area moving ever farther north in search of the right temperature, and patterns of movement among migratory species that baffle elders who can no longer trust the knowledge passed down to them from generations before.

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Alaska is the front lines for climate change, and it is therefore appropriate to have an Alaskan front and center in Washington, D.C., who is capable of loudly educating everyone about the need to reform our national policy on energy and natural resources today, not tomorrow.

As luck would have it, Sen. Lisa Murkowski is poised to take charge of the Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources, which would be great if her main focus was mitigating the cumulative impacts of climate change on our lands.

And Murkowski seems to get it. She says she sees the changing environment, hears what the elders and rural Alaskans who depend on the land tell her. But acknowledging one has a problem and taking action are two entirely different things, and while the days of being tarred and feathered for believing in climate change are largely over, taking a strong stance on policies that contribute to climate change is far less popular. Don't tell Alaskans to stop flying, stop driving, to stop depending on fossil fuels, the very fossil fuels that support our state government.

Murkowski's Election Day comments about the emissions from an Iceland volcano being more than 1,000 years' worth of emissions from all the vehicles and manufacturing in Europe didn't buoy those in the know with a sense of confidence. First of all, her information was dead wrong. But perhaps more importantly, she is sidestepping human responsibility for the state of our environment, and in doing so, skipping her duty to take action to mitigate that impact, even if that action is unpopular.

Maybe Murkowski will surprise us all and come forward with some progressive ideas, leading the country toward policy changes that can actually have some long-reaching impacts. Or maybe she will throw her hands up in the air, and blame the dying sea stars, salmon, and seals on volcanoes.

Carey Restino is the editor of The Arctic Sounder, where this commentary first appeared.

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.

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