Thoughts from the shower: Upside-down energy production

My morning shower, hot water flowing down my body, started a mental review of where our energy comes from. After some thought, I determined we have an "energy pyramid" available to us, but that to a large degree we invert the pyramid, drawing a large share of our energy from small, nonrenewable sources.

I believe we derive usable energy for our society from only five sources. In order of abundance, these are:

1. Solar
2. Tidal (lunar gravitational)
3. Geothermal
4. Nuclear
5. Petrochemical, coal, and natural gas

Of these, solar easily accounts for the vast majority of the energy we use. Hydroelectric plants, windmills, and campfires are three obvious examples of energy derived from solar power. Most schemes for increasing energy availability focus on maximizing the use of solar energy, either directly (through solar panel technology) or indirectly (through such transport media as wind harvesting or plant growing). This is reasonable, since solar power is far and away the most common source of energy available to us.

But once we get past solar, the vast majority of our energy is provided by the least abundant source: petrochemicals, coal, and natural gas. These are commonly called "fossil fuels", and are thought to have their origin in very early prehistoric collections of algae, plankton, and other biomass that were covered with mud and exposed to heat and pressure over tens or hundreds of millions of years. In effect, oil is a form of stored solar energy -- but unlike other forms of solar energy we use, oil is effectively unrenewable.

Petroleum is remarkable in other ways, too. It's the ideal material for making plastics. In our day, we don't realize what miraculous materials plastics are; we take them completely for granted. Our great-grandparents would set us straight in telling us that their shocking lack of iPods, air flight and ground travel technology, refrigeration, and even central plumbing was due not to basic technological deficiency, but primarily to the difficulty of working the needed materials -- difficulty which has largely been swept away by the versatility of plastics.

(Before you argue that iPod technology is not merely plastics, and that the "silicon revolution" was unknown to our great-grandparents, consider: What materials advances made the computer age possible? Was it just the semiconductivity of silicon that drove the process? Not at all; it was the increasing availability of plastics.)

In petroleum, we have the perfect starter material to make all variations of the fabulous, miraculous stuff called plastic, enough to last us and our descendants for literally tens or hundreds of thousands of years. So what do we do with it? We put it in our gas tanks and burn it up. Not a wise use of resources, methinks.

Coal, too, is an amazing material. It is composed of fossilized, carbonized plant material dating from 300 million years ago. Much coal still has the perfect impressions of its constituent ferns. In coming years, we will doubtless figure out how to examine coal and determine important bioinformation based on its structure. Coal beds probably constitute one of the best, most valuable textbooks into understanding the Earth's early history from hundreds of millions of years ago, a textbook we are only barely beginning to be able to read. It's utterly irreplaceable, replete with information we don't even know to ask about yet and cannot even dream of today. So what do we do with it? We dig it up and burn it to keep our houses warm. Surely I'm not the only one who finds this appalling.

In former times, people burned amber, not knowing what it was, but enjoying the beautiful pine scent it provided. Today we know that amber is fossilized tree resin from many millions of years ago. It commonly contains pollens, spores, and even whole insects from ancient prehistoric times, long before humans walked the earth. For all those years, our ancestors were burning up irreplaceable treasures, their information irretrievably destroyed, because it smelled nice.

Of course, our ancestors didn't know. But we do.

So what to do about this? We can't mandate zero fossil fuel usage starting tomorrow, unless we want to witness widespread starvation, rioting, and the fall of civilization as we know it. (Our modern farming methods, using gasoline- and diesel-powered tractors and combines for planting and harvesting vast acreage, are the science of turning petroleum into food. Take away the petroleum, and soon we all starve. Food storage, anyone?)

But we can start taking immediate, positive steps to wean ourselves from petroleum usage in two generations. If harvesting solar power is not enough, let's figure out ways to use tidal energy. Iceland uses geothermal; maybe we can find ways to make that more viable worldwide. In any case, we can certainly use uranium to drive fission (nuclear) power for the next hundred years, to take the edge off our energy hunger while we figure out how to wean ourselves from burning up our irreplaceable petroleum.

Of course, some among us are hungry for political power, as well. This deplorable power hunger means that, for example, OPEC will seek to stop any lessening of petroleum usage. Politicians (yes, Republicans as well as Democrats) will cynically and shamelessly use this issue as an election plank, with little thought to the truthfulness or sustainability of their position. So-called environmentalists will use the issue as a club to drive their often-deplorable agenda forward. Barack Obama will be elected president.

All these things are true, but ultimately not relevant. We must figure out how to stop our oil dependency, not just for our own immediate comfort and national security, but for the benefit of those who will come a thousand generations hence.

Responding to my objection to an online essay mocking Elder Pace's recent BYU talk*, someone asked what I considered a better way to handle such disagreements. This is my response.

* (Elder Pace's talk was interpreted by some as casting women in the role of quasi-divine beings whose purpose in mortality was to help their husbands gain exaltation, seemingly insulting both to the hapless, deficient men and, more importantly, to the women whose lives must consist of more than just being a "helpmeet" for their husbands.)

Hugh Nibley was one of the most brilliant LDS minds of the Restoration. I believe he knew more about scriptures and the gospel than almost anyone of our time, at least from an intellectual perspective. He also had direct access to General Authorities all the way up to the First Presidency. He had only to request a meeting with the Prophet and he would surely have been granted one that week, if not the same day. He had the Brethren's respect, he had their ear, and he knew that he would be approximately five times smarter than anyone else he would talk with.

Yet for all his brilliance and all his intimate access to the very highest levels of the Church, Hugh Nibley's approach to the issue of disagreements was to keep his opinion to himself. According to his biographer and son-in-law Boyd Peterson:

There are several examples I could cite where Hugh disagreed with Church policy. But when he could not argue forcefully for the Church, he kept his mouth shut. During the debate over blacks and the priesthood, Hugh evidently disagreed with the policy. Nevertheless, he never voiced those beliefs until after the priesthood ban was lifted. I once asked him about something that might be seen as heretical today but which was not in the nineteenth century, and he responded, "I never think about that." Then he paused and restated, "Well, I think about it, but I never talk about it." This may seem cowardly to some, but clearly Hugh was able to do more for the Church by remaining loyal and quiet; he would have lost that ability had he come out in open opposition to the Church's position.

I agree with Brother Nibley. If we have disagreements with Church policy, doctrine, or the administration of our leaders, our place is to shut up about it.

Of course, this is only true if we actually believe the LDS Church to be the kingdom of God on earth and the restoration of Christ's primitive Church. If we don't believe that, then we can say or do whatever we want (within the constraints of law). But in that case, why are we wasting our time? What is the point in being part of a fraudulent outfit that takes 10% of our income to teach our children fairy tales about angels and gold plates?

So what if you're a faithful and believing member, but you really really really really really want to say something in response to a particular outrage? To begin with, considering Brother Pace's remarks an "outrage" probably marks you as over-sensitive. But if you feel you really must say something, I can think of several alternatives, any of which would be far preferable to writing and openly publishing a piece of uncharitable mockery. In order of propriety, from most appropriate to least, I see some of these alternatives as:

1. Fast, pray, and discuss the issue with your Father in heaven.
2. Talk with your quorum/RS president, bishop, and/or stake president about your concerns.
3. Write a (polite) letter to Elder Pace, setting forth your objections.
4. Mention your disagreements with family and friends, being careful not to mock or take to task, but simply to outline the areas you think the speech fell short.
5. If you feel you absolutely cannot help being public with your criticisms, keep them directed closely at the points of objection, never allowing them to become a mockery of Elder Pace or a criticism of his person.