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| The view over Charleston harbor from the Edmonston-Alston House is uncertain. |
Like most
visitors, I was impressed on my first trip to Charleston, SC. Where many cities
have historic districts, whole swaths of Charleston feel transported from its
golden age of antebellum glory. Mansions, columned and porticoed, line-up
sidewise along leafy streets, gleaming with fresh paint jobs in pastel,
sky-blue, and buff. Since Hurricane Hugo in 1989, restoration has transformed
the place. Locals like to say it hasn't looked this good since 1861---when the
Civil War began at Fort Sumter, literally on Charleston's doorstep.
According to our guide with Palmetto Carriage Tours, one of the ongoing threats to Charleston's historic neighborhoods is flooding after heavy rains. As many as a dozen times a year, these venerable streets—lying as they do mere inches from sea level—are inundated by a foot or more of water with nowhere to drain. Global climate change will only make this problem worse, as increased warming of the atmosphere will both raise sea level and increase the frequency of violent storms. Considering how much Charleston's appeal (and tourist economy) depends on its historic neighborhoods, you'd think such risks would be matters of wide public concern.
You'd think so—but you'd be wrong. For South Carolina is one of the reddest of red states, where many folks take a dim view of climate change "alarmists". Case in point: the situation at Charleston's own (and quite fine) South Carolina Aquarium. As one of the city's prime educational and scientific institutions, the Aquarium will introduce you not only to a variety of aquatic species, but many birds, reptiles, amphibians, and even (on temporary exhibit) some raucous ringtail lemurs. Along with the fun, it does a good job teaching visitors about the problems of shrinking biodiversity, habitat loss, pollution, etc. But of climate change—arguably the single biggest environmental challenge facing the Carolina Low Country in the coming decades—you'll learn approximately zilch.
According to our guide with Palmetto Carriage Tours, one of the ongoing threats to Charleston's historic neighborhoods is flooding after heavy rains. As many as a dozen times a year, these venerable streets—lying as they do mere inches from sea level—are inundated by a foot or more of water with nowhere to drain. Global climate change will only make this problem worse, as increased warming of the atmosphere will both raise sea level and increase the frequency of violent storms. Considering how much Charleston's appeal (and tourist economy) depends on its historic neighborhoods, you'd think such risks would be matters of wide public concern.
You'd think so—but you'd be wrong. For South Carolina is one of the reddest of red states, where many folks take a dim view of climate change "alarmists". Case in point: the situation at Charleston's own (and quite fine) South Carolina Aquarium. As one of the city's prime educational and scientific institutions, the Aquarium will introduce you not only to a variety of aquatic species, but many birds, reptiles, amphibians, and even (on temporary exhibit) some raucous ringtail lemurs. Along with the fun, it does a good job teaching visitors about the problems of shrinking biodiversity, habitat loss, pollution, etc. But of climate change—arguably the single biggest environmental challenge facing the Carolina Low Country in the coming decades—you'll learn approximately zilch.
Perhaps
solely out of perversity, I asked some of the docents about this. Their
response was like that of a man crawling through the desert who hopes the oasis
ahead isn't a mirage. Wary at first, they seemed to wait until it was clear
that my interest wasn't a feint—and then granted that talk of global warming,
alas, draws too many emotional complaints. "We don't want to upset people
here," said one of them. To the obvious reply, that they'll be upset more
by surging storm-water flooding their homes, the docent could only shrug.
"We're happy to talk to them about it…" he said, making it clear that
the onus is on the visitor to seek out the information the Aquarium should
freely provide. That's clearly not the attitude it takes on certain other
issues, like their ongoing sea turtle rescue program.
To
be fair, all three docents I spoke to were perfectly aware that the reality of global
climate change is no more a matter of serious debate than the existence of
gravity. All of them welcomed my criticism, and looked forward to citing them
to their supervisors. Yet that's where we are in large swaths of this country:
many of our educational institutions, where the science, not the politics,
should drive discourse, are simply afraid to acknowledge scientific fact.
It
would be easy for an outsider like myself simply to tell the South Carolina
Aquarium to be more like a vertebrate on the issue of climate change, and less
like a jellyfish. Public reaction might be emotional, but the stakes in a place
like Charleston are high. As Neil deGrasse Tyson has remarked, some things in
life are "true whether you believe in them or not." And the truth is
simple: unless something is done, sometime in the next generation much of that
tender and expensive restoration in the city's historic core will go for
naught, because it will be under water.
It's
easy to say, but harder to do. Better to start right away.
© 2014 Nicholas Nicastro
Postscript:
Here's a link to a report on the debate over climate change in Charleston.
