Summertime Blues (Super El Niño Redux)
We need to talk about El Niño.
You may recall, if you've been around the newsletter a while, that we've been through this in recent years. The last El Niño we faced was a moderate one, but it managed to make 2024 the hottest year in recorded history. Since then, every successive year has been in the top three hottest years–and to help with the math, that means yes, the last three years are the hottest years ever.
The 2016 Super El Niño contributed to record-breaking heat, droughts, disease, flooding–you name it. And the last before that, in 1982, was so bad that scientists invented the modern ways we measure El Niño (and the ENSO cycle in general). The damages from these events, the famines they can lead to, are devastating.
Case in point: the Super El Niño of 1877, the effects of which claimed the lives of an estimated 50 million people (a comparable toll today would be 250 million–or about two thirds of the United States population). The droughts that followed this El Niño lasted two years, and it is considered the greatest ecological disaster–and one of the greatest humanitarian disasters–of recorded history. This isn't to say that 250 million people are going to die of hunger next year (that is, 250 million additional people. Israel continues to starve Gaza, and the Sudanese civil war has put millions at risk as well). It is to say that things could get very bad.
I'll reiterate that what underpins every discomfort in our lives is that it's probably worse for others because of how capitalism exploits the global south. If your grocery bill rises due to El Niño, it's probably threatening lives elsewhere. We should be thinking about these matters globally because of the privilege upon which our lives have rested this long; we owe the rest of the world our help.
The World of Yesterday Today
The media covering this El Niño will tell you modern farming practices and irrigation all but guarantee we won't see a country-erasing famine in which roughly 4% of the global population starves. Ask me why I don't find that reassuring.
The problem with dismissals of the severity of this Super El Niño are manifold. For one, it may be a worse event climatically than 1877's. For two, despite what you'll read about that El Niño's world, which was riddled with horrific colonialism–priming the regions that suffered for further disaster–so is ours. There are multiple active genocides and ethnic cleansings going on today, and the people suffering under them will be the first to face worsening conditions. Add a baseline of warming well above 1877 and we could be on par with 1877.
But wait, you might be thinking, what about the Strait of Hormuz of it all? And you would be right to think that–we're in a fuel and fertilizer pinch. A survey conducted by the American Farm Bureau Federation found that nearly 70% of farmers surveyed were not able to secure or afford sufficient fertilizer for their crops this year. Many farmers surveyed said they will forego fertilizer entirely this year due to the rise in cost. This puts a hurt on the overall yield for this year before you add the potential for a chaotic end to the season due to a Super El Niño.
The Super El Niño is a global phenomenon, and we live in a global food web that has been in trouble for some time–since at least the start of the war in Ukraine. Further complications mean this year, and the next, we may see a global food crisis. I truly don't know whether everything we're facing means we'll see an 1877 famine or not, or worse, but this is one more instance of the world not going our way. If you look at the scoreboard, the other team is running away with the game. Things are getting harder and harder, and if you don't prepare while you can you will be caught flat-footed, whether it's today or tomorrow.
To Do
For the love of god, at least buy some cans of beans. You may not have much room, you may not have a yard, but you can buy some canned food now that will only get more expensive and maybe one day simply not be there on the grocery store shelf. If you have some room, buy more. If you have a yard, grow something. If you live somewhere that there are community gardens, get involved. I said a long time ago that not everyone can simply walk out into their little postage stamp of a yard and grow what they need to survive, but you can grow something, and you can develop skills necessary to get better at it.
With the worsening genocide in Gaza and the subsequent war with Iran and Israeli invasion of Lebanon, my wife basically gave me permission to get serious about gardening and to make room for more supplies in our basement. I had someone cut down some invasive trees in our backyard that were too large for me to handle and planted apple trees–cliche, yes, and difficult, yes, but we're trying. I vastly expanded our water storage, found a used rain barrel in an alley and set it up under our shed, and put in some metal garden beds to replace a few of our decrepit cedar beds. It's not everything–it won't feed us for probably more than a week or two in reality, but it is something. I am sharpening my skills, putting time and energy into our space to make it both more environmentally friendly and productive. Do this work now. It's not too late to start your garden–we've had an odd cool spell here that's kept me from planting most everything just yet, and the Super El Niño all but ensures our growing season, if we can keep our crops watered, will be extended into October or even later. You can take advantage of this.
Get with people in your community. Find scrap wood, scrap metal, cobble together a little garden in an empty plot. Grow too many tomatoes and have a canning party with your folks and build these relationships. They matter more than anything else. Start talking about the state of the world. Start thinking about how, if we're not caught flat-footed, we're better able to push back against the people who are just fine with us going hungry.