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Being in Oklahoma I found this article sad yet amusing.
http://www.cnn.com/2015/08/03/opinions/sutter-climate-skeptics-woodward-oklahoma/index.html
A sign in front of this statue reads, "A dinosaur like this roamed the Earth 5,000 years ago."
MUCH more at the link, and it's really an interesting story.
http://www.cnn.com/2015/08/03/opinions/sutter-climate-skeptics-woodward-oklahoma/index.html
)I was wandering around the rolling plains of northwest Oklahoma looking for one person -- one person -- who believes in climate change science when I met the woman dressed all in yellow.
A wide-brimmed, lemon-colored hat orbited her head. Her loafers were the color of butter. Everything in between was a jubilee of sunshine.
Could she be the one?
Please, Lord, let her be the one.
I ask.
She laughs.
It's a sweet laugh. A knowing laugh. A yes-I-understand-everyone-out-here-thinks-climate-science-is-total-BS-but-I'm-the-one-who-gets-it laugh.
Then Yellow Hat speaks.
"I think it's a big fat lie."
<Sigh.>
I could recount several interactions like that from my week in Woodward County, Oklahoma, one of the most climate-skeptical counties in the United States. Thirty percent of the 21,000 people in Woodward County are estimated (using a statistical model based in national surveys) to believe that climate change isn't happening at all, according to the Yale Project on Climate Change Communication. The county ties with six others for the highest rate of climate skepticism in the country.
A larger chunk of people in Woodward County, 42%, are estimated to say maybe climate change is happening but we aren't causing it.
Those views, of course, aren't supported by science. Climate change is real, and we're contributing to it by burning gas for our cars and coal and other fossil fuels to generate electricity. Saying otherwise flies in the face of reality.
But out here, where July temperatures hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 Celsius) and the often-gusting wind feels like a hair dryer aimed squarely at your face, climate change is seen by some as nonexistent -- a farce, a conspiracy, something that just plain doesn't make sense. Others who might be more inclined to acknowledge climate change aren't eager to talk about it. The subject is controversial to the point of being taboo. Several people told me they'd never had a conversation about climate change until I came around asking.
Others, like Yellow Hat, had anti-climate-science arguments locked and loaded.
"It's propaganda," she told me.
Like ... whose propaganda?
"The presstitutes," among others, she said, probably not forgetting she was speaking to a member of the international press, red CNN hat on head.
"They're bought and paid for."
I'll keep an eye out for the check.
In Woodward, I'd learn about the art of "rollin' coal," which means altering and then revving up a diesel engine so it emits thicker puffs of smoke, mostly for the visual effect; I'd go mountain biking with a guy who believes elements of "The Flintstones" are historically accurate; I'd hear incorrect theories, like that hair spray, and other aerosols, cause climate change, or that wind farms pollute more than oil. And, clearly most important, a cowboy would ask me why I was wearing stretch pants to a cattle auction. (They were Levi's 511s.)
Part of me wants to write off the skeptics in Woodward County -- to think that these views, especially the pants critique, are so out of sync with the modern world, and so detrimental to efforts to cut carbon emissions enough to stop the world from warming 2 degrees Celsius, which is regarded as the threshold for dangerous climate change, that we should ignore them. That would be the easier thing to do, and it's the approach some academics recommended to me, fearing reporting on climate skeptics would pump oxygen onto the fire of misinformation.
"It is a hopeless task to try to talk to them and change their minds," said Stephan Lewandowsky, a psychology professor at the University of Bristol.
But I don't want to ignore this place -- and don't think you should, either.
Partly that's because so many readers of CNN's Two° series on climate change asked me to look into climate skepticism in the United States. You wanted to know why such skepticism persists here, what's really behind the sentiment -- and how skeptics, hopefully, can become part of solutions to climate change.
A sign in front of this statue reads, "A dinosaur like this roamed the Earth 5,000 years ago."
When I Googled Woodward County, the weirdest thing came up: a Jurassic-era dinosaur, about as tall as a one-story building, with a little girl riding on its back.
Right in the heart of town.
A sign says, "A dinosaur like this roamed the Earth 5,000 years ago."
I found that image to be so ridiculous. Five thousand years ago was the Bronze Age, roughly the time the Egyptians were building pyramids. I'm not a paleontologist, but I trust them, and their research suggests the stegosaurus wasn't roaming the Earth with a little girl on its back. That dinosaur lived about 150 million years ago, said Brian Huber, chairman of the Paleobiology Department at the Smithsonian Institution. "We have just a really high degree of confidence of this," he told me. Modern humans, meanwhile, didn't evolve until 100,000 to 200,000 years ago.
But that's not how everyone in Woodward sees it.
"I think humans once lived with dinosaurs," said Randall Gabrel, a 53-year-old oil company owner and interim headmaster of Woodward Christian Academy, who personally paid to install the statue in the heart of town. (He declined to tell me exactly what that cost but did offer that it was "more than a brand-new pickup truck.")
"I don't know (that) a kid ever rode on a dinosaur," he told me, "but I want to make this statement: that they lived at the same time."
His sources? There are two. The Bible, which he interprets as saying God created dinosaurs and humans on the same day. And a supposed dinosaur bone sample, which he sent to a university lab for analysis. The problem: He submitted the bone for carbon-14 dating, which, according to Jeff Speakman -- director of the Center for Applied Isotope Studies at the University of Georgia, where documents indicate Gabrel sent the sample -- can be used to date only material that is, at most, about 20,000 to 30,000 years old. "It's absolutely impossible to radiocarbon-date something that's 66 million years old," Speakman told me, citing the date when scientists say the dinosaurs went extinct. That Gabrel got results at all indicates the bone was contaminated with plant material, Speakman said.
Gabrel knows about those critiques but is undeterred.
"That's what I believe," he told me. "I put (the stegosaurus statue) up there because I think it draws attention, and I think the best evidence supports that position. I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is. I'm willing to stand by my beliefs."
"I look for the truth," he said. "That's what I'm after."
I'll let you guess what he thinks of climate change.
MUCH more at the link, and it's really an interesting story.