It’s possible that I shall make an ass of myself. But in that case one can always get out of it with a little dialectic. I have, of course, so worded my proposition as to be right either way (K.Marx, Letter to F.Engels on the Indian Mutiny)
Friday, August 27, 2021
TOLEAN BESSIE UPDATE
First ancient human DNA from islands between Asia and Australia
Credit: University of Hasanuddin
A research team co-led by Griffith University archaeologists has discovered DNA in the remains of a hunter-gatherer woman who died 7200 years ago on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi. Nicknamed Bessé’, she is the first known skeleton from an early foraging culture called the Toaleans.
Genomic analysis shows that this ancient individual was a distant relative of Aboriginal Australians and Papuans. But it also revealed that Bessé’ is a rare ‘genetic fossil’, in the sense that she belonged to a group with an ancestral history that was unlike that of any previously known human population.
Excavations at Leang Panninge cave. Credit: Leang Panninge Research Project.
This surprising find, published in the journal Nature, is the first time ancient human DNA has been reported from ‘Wallacea’, the vast group of islands between Borneo and New Guinea and the gateway to the continent of Australia.
The Sulawesi remains were excavated in 2015 from a cave called Leang Panninge (‘Bat Cave’). They belong to a young female hunter-gatherer who was about 17-18 years old at time of death. She was buried in a foetal position and partially covered by rocks. Stone tools and red ochre (iron-rich rock used to make pigment) were found in her grave, along with bones of hunted wild animals.
The University of Hasanuddin archaeologists who discovered the woman affectionately dubbed her Bessé’, following a custom among Bugis royal families of bestowing this nickname on newly born princesses before they were formally named.
“The Toaleans were early hunter-gatherers who lived a secluded existence in the forests of South Sulawesi from around 8,000 years ago until 1,500 years ago, hunting wild pigs and collecting edible shellfish from rivers,” Professor Brumm said.
Professor Brumm’s team re-excavated Leang Panninge in 2019 to clarify the context of the burial and collect more samples for dating. Through radiocarbon dating the team was able to constrain the age of Bessé’ to between about 7300 to 7200 years old.
Toalean artefacts have only been found in one small part of Sulawesi, encompassing about 6% of the total land area of the island, the world’s eleventh largest.
“This suggests that this past culture had limited contact with other early Sulawesi communities or people in nearby islands, existing for thousands of years in isolation,” said study co-author Adhi Agus Oktaviana, a researcher in Indonesia’s national archaeological research institute (Pusat Penelitian Arkeologi Nasional) and a doctoral candidate in the Griffith Centre for Social and Cultural Research.
Archaeologists have long debated the origins of the Toaleans. But now analyses of ancient DNA from the inner ear bone of Bessé’ partly confirm existing assertions that Toalean foragers were related to the first modern humans to enter Wallacea some 65,000 years ago, the ancestors of Aboriginal Australians and Papuans.
“These seafaring hunter-gatherers were the earliest inhabitants of Sahul, the supercontinent that emerged during the Pleistocene (Ice Age) when global sea levels fell, exposing a land bridge between Australia and New Guinea,” Professor Brumm said.
Professor Adam Brumm.
“To reach Sahul, these pioneering humans made ocean crossings through Wallacea, but little about their journeys is known.”
The genomic analyses were led by Selina Carlhoff from the Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History at Jena, Germany, under the supervision of Professor Cosimo Posth (University of Tübingen) and Professor Johannes Krause (Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, Leipzig).
The results show that Bessé’ shares about half of her genetic makeup with present-day Indigenous Australians and people in New Guinea and the Western Pacific islands. This includes DNA inherited from the now-extinct Denisovans, distant cousins of Neanderthals whose fossils have only been found in Siberia and Tibet.
“In fact, the proportion of Denisovan DNA in Bessé’ relative to other ancient as well as present-day groups in the region may indicate that the crucial meeting point between our species and Denisovans was in Sulawesi or another Wallacean island,” Professor Posth said.
The research could suggest that ancestors of Bessé’ were among the first modern humans to reach Wallacea, but instead of island hopping eastward to Sahul they remained in Sulawesi.
If so, it may have been the forebears of Bessé’ who created the very old cave paintings found in South Sulawesi. As recently shown by Griffith University researchers, this rock art dates to at least 45,500 years ago and includes what may be the earliest known human representations of animals.
But analyses also revealed something unexpected in the genome of Bessé’: a deep ancestral signature from an early modern human population of Asian origin. This group did not intermix with the predecessors of Aboriginal Australians and Papuans, suggesting it may have entered the region after the initial peopling of Sahul.
“It is unlikely we will know much about the identity of these early ancestors of the Toaleans until more ancient human DNA samples are available from Wallacea,” said Indonesian senior author Professor Akin Duli from the University of Hasanuddin.
“But it would now appear that the population history and genetic diversity of early humans in the region were more complex than previously supposed.”
The researchers could detect no ancestry resembling that of Bessé’ in the DNA of people who live in Sulawesi today, who seem to largely descend from Neolithic farmers (‘Austronesians’) who arrived in the region from Taiwan some 3,500 years ago.
This is not unexpected, given that the last traces of Toalean culture vanished from the archaeological record by the fifth century AD. The scientists do note, however, that more extensive genomic sampling of Sulawesi’s diverse population could reveal evidence for the genetic legacy of Toaleans.
“The discovery of Bessé’ and the implications of her genetic ancestry show just how little we understand about the early human story in our region, and how much more there is left to uncover,” Professor Brumm said.
Who were the Toaleans? Ancient woman’s DNA provides first evidence for the origin of a mysterious lost culture
Stone arrowheads (Maros points) and other flaked stone implements from the Toalean culture of South Sulawesi. Shahna Britton/Andrew Thomson, Author provided
August 25, 2021
In 2015, archaeologists from the University of Hasanuddin in Makassar, on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi, uncovered the skeleton of a woman buried in a limestone cave. Studies revealed the person from Leang Panninge, or “Bat Cave”, was 17 or 18 years old when she died some 7,200 years ago.
Her discoverers dubbed her Bessé’ (pronounced bur-sek¹) — a nickname bestowed on newborn princesses among the Bugis people who now live in southern Sulawesi. The name denotes the great esteem local archaeologists have for this ancient woman.
She represents the only known skeleton of one of the Toalean people. These enigmatic hunter-gatherers inhabited the island before Neolithic farmers from mainland Asia (“Austronesians”) spread into Indonesia around 3,500 years ago. Burial of a Toalean hunter-gatherer woman dated to 7,200 years ago. Bessé’ was 17-18 years old at time of death. She was buried in a flexed position and several large cobbles were placed on and around her body. Although the skeleton is fragmented, ancient DNA was found preserved in the dense inner ear bone (petrous). University of Hasanuddin
Our team found ancient DNA that survived inside the inner ear bone of Bessé’, furnishing us with the first direct genetic evidence of the Toaleans. This is also the first time ancient human DNA has been reported from Wallacea, the vast group of islands between Borneo and New Guinea, of which Sulawesi is the largest.
Genomic analysis shows Bessé’ belonged to a population with a previously unknown ancestral composition. She shares about half of her genetic makeup with present-day Indigenous Australians and people in New Guinea and the Western Pacific. This includes DNA inherited from the now-extinct Denisovans, who were distant cousins of Neanderthals.
In fact, relative to other ancient and present-day groups in the region, the proportion of Denisovan DNA in Bessé’ could indicate the main meeting point between our species and Denisovans was in Sulawesi itself (or perhaps a nearby Wallacean island).
The ancestry of this pre-Neolithic woman provides fascinating insight into the little-known population history and genetic diversity of early modern humans in the Wallacean islands — the gateway to the continent of Australia. Sulawesi is the largest island in Wallacea, the zone of oceanic islands between the continental regions of Asia and Australia. White shaded areas represent landmasses exposed during periods of lower sea level in the Late Pleistocene. The Wallace Line is a major biogeographical boundary that marks the eastern extent of the distinctive plant and animal worlds of Asia. The Toalean cave site Leang Panninge (where Bessé’ was found) is located in Sulawesi’s southwestern peninsula (see inset panel). Toalean archaeological sites have only been found in a roughly 10,000 km² area of this peninsula, south of Lake Tempe. Kim Newman Toalean culture
The archaeological story of the Toaleans began more than a century ago. In 1902, the Swiss naturalists Paul and Fritz Sarasin excavated several caves in the highlands of southern Sulawesi.
Their digs unearthed small, finely crafted stone arrowheads known as Maros points. They also found other distinctive stone implements and tools fashioned from bone, which they attributed to the original inhabitants of Sulawesi — the prehistoric “Toalien” people (now spelled Toalean). A Toalean stone arrowhead, known as a Maros point. Classic Maros points are small (roughly 2.5cm in maxiumum dimension) and were fashioned with rows of fine tooth-like serrations along the sides and tip, and wing-like projections at the base. Although this particular stone technology seems to have been unique to the Toalean culture, similar projectile points were produced in northern Australia, Java and Japan. Shahna Britton/Andrew Thomson.Some Toalean cave sites have since been excavated to a higher scientific standard, yet our understanding of this culture is at an early stage. The oldest known Maros points and other Toalean artefacts date to about 8,000 years ago.
Excavated findings from caves suggest the Toaleans were hunter-gatherers who preyed heavily on wild endemic warty pigs and harvested edible shellfish from creeks and estuaries. So far, evidence for the group has only been found in one part of southern Sulawesi.
Toalean artefacts disappear from the archaeological record by the fifth century AD — a few thousand years after the first Neolithic settlements emerged on the island.
Prehistorians have long sought to determine who the Toaleans were, but efforts have been impeded by a lack of securely-dated human remains. This all changed with the discovery of Bessé’ and the ancient DNA in her bones. Toalean stone arrowheads (Maros points), backed microliths (small stone implements that may have been hafted as barbs) and bone projectile points. These artefacts are from Indonesian collections curated in Makassar and mostly comprise undated specimens collected from the ground surface at archaeological sites. Basran BurhanThe ancestral story of Bessé’
Our results mean we can now confirm existing presumptions the Toaleans were related to the first modern humans to enter Wallacea some 65,000 years ago or more. These seafaring hunter-gatherers were the ancestors of Aboriginal Australians and Papuans.
They were also the earliest inhabitants of Sahul, the supercontinent that emerged during the Pleistocene (ice age) when global sea levels fell, exposing a land bridge between Australia and New Guinea. To reach Sahul, these pioneering humans made ocean crossings through Wallacea, but little about their journeys is known.
It is conceivable the ancestors of Bessé’ were among the first people to reach Wallacea. Instead of island-hopping to Sahul, however, they remained in Sulawesi.
But our analyses also revealed a deep ancestral signature from an early modern human population that originated somewhere in continental Asia. These ancestors of Bessé’ did not intermix with the forebears of Aboriginal Australians and Papuans, suggesting they may have entered the region after the initial peopling of Sahul — but long before the Austronesian expansion.
Who were these people? When did they arrive in the region and how widespread were they? It’s unlikely we will have answers to these questions until we have more ancient human DNA samples and pre-Neolithic fossils from Wallacea. This unexpected finding shows us how little we know about the early human story in our region. A new look at the Toaleans
With funds awarded by the Australian Research Council’s Discovery program we are initiating a new project that will explore the Toalean world in greater detail. Through archaeological excavations at Leang Panninge we hope to learn more about the development of this unique hunter-gatherer culture.Excavations at Leang Panninge cave, Mallawa, South Sulawesi. Leang Panninge Research Team. We also wish to address longstanding questions about Toalean social organisation and ways of life. For example, some scholars have inferred the Toaleans became so populous that these hitherto small and scattered groups of foragers began to settle down in large sedentary communities, and possibly even domesticated wild pigs. It has also recently been speculated Toaleans were the mysterious Asian seafarers who visited Australia in ancient times, introducing the dingo (or more accurately, the domesticated ancestor of this now-wild canid). There is clearly much left to uncover about the long island story of Bessé’ and her kin.
¹The “bur” syllable is pronounced as in the English word “bursary”. The “k” is essentially a strangulated stop in the throat, akin to the “t” in the Cockney “bo'ol”, for bottle. (With thanks to Professor Campbell Macknight).
CITY STATE SINGAPORE
'Definitely didn’t see it coming': Yale-NUS and University Scholars Programme students, alumni react to news of merger
The entrance of Yale-NUS College. (Photo: Calvin Oh)
SINGAPORE: Students from Yale-NUS College and the University Scholars Programme (USP) at the National University of Singapore (NUS) have said they are shocked and confused at the news that the two programmes will merge.
Yale-NUS will close in 2025, ceasing Yale University’s collaboration with NUS, and its 2021 intake will be its last batch. The two programmes - Yale-NUS and USP - will be merged and will accept its first batch of students from 2022, NUS announced on Friday (Aug 27).
The original affiliation agreement signed in 2011 between NUS and Yale has always given either party the opportunity to withdraw in 2025, said the Connecticut-based university.
On its news site, Yale University said NUS announced its intention to withdraw four years in advance, which gives current students the chance to complete their undergraduate studies as planned.
Yale-NUS was established in 2011, and USP was established in 2001. Both programmes have residential colleges in UTown. Students currently enrolled in the USP will transit to the new college from January 2022.
Speaking to CNA at the Yale-NUS campus, first-year student Jordan (not his real name) said students were only informed on Thursday that classes would be cancelled on Friday, without further details.
Yale-NUS and USP students were given a Zoom link for a virtual townhall on Friday morning, which started shortly after the announcement of the merger.
"Some of (my friends) are sad. They turned down opportunities elsewhere to come here … those are good opportunities. So it’s a shame. I guess it’s a bit irresponsible," said Jordan.
Adding that it would have been more helpful if the school had told its students about the merger earlier, Jordan said: “People’s decisions would definitely change. I can guarantee that. But that’s the way the world works ... I think there’s a lot of people wanting to transfer now.”
Classes for the new academic year began at Yale-NUS and USP in August.
For Jordan, who is Singaporean but has lived overseas his whole life, coming to Yale-NUS was a dream - and he “didn’t even think about other schools”.
“Coming back to my home country, getting to know my country, and having an international curriculum. The reputation of Yale also definitely attracted me. But now it’s like I’m going to a non-existent college," he said.
He also expressed concern about applying for jobs in the future, as he thinks employers “will have to do some digging” for background on his university.
“I was frankly quite shocked when the announcement was made because I thought that the two programmes offered at Yale-NUS and USP were sufficiently distinct,” first-year USP student Chiew Chern Faye told CNA.
She hopes that the new college will bring about new and exciting learning opportunities for future cohorts, and that current students will be given “adequate support” to navigate this new development.
“Since developments are still ongoing, I am unsure of what exactly to expect in the new programme. However, I hope that it will bring about new opportunities and allow us access to more resources to facilitate our learning,” she said.
‘DEFINITELY DIDN’T SEE IT COMING’
After classes were cancelled and the townhall was announced, students were speculating about what the announcement would be, said a Year 3 USP student who only wanted to be known as Charlene.
“And then suddenly, when the townhall started, there were already news articles coming out on the merger itself. It was a concurrent shock because on the Telegram chat there were news articles, and the NUS president was also announcing it on Zoom,” she added.
“We were all very very surprised by this, we definitely didn’t see it coming.”
Charlene, as well as a group of other Year 3 students, were “quite concerned” at first about their graduation certificates, and how the new college would affect their prospects in the future. “We entered USP for the USP experience and the prestige that comes with USP,” she added.
“Despite USP being quite a young institution of only 20 years, I think I was quite sad about (how) when we graduate, USP will no longer be here for us.
"It just feels like all the heritage that comes with USP might vanish alongside the merger with Yale-NUS."
Moving forward, she hopes for more sessions or townhalls between the NUS admin and affected students with more information about what will happen in the future.
“As of now, the Q&A, even though they’re involving both USP admin and the NUS provost, they seem to be giving very vague answers, or they don’t seem to be giving us very concrete assurance of what’s going to happen,” said Charlene.
“They keep saying something is going to happen, but it’s just all very unclear, and all the details aren’t really there yet. I guess it’s just quite disconcerting.”
For future plans, she hopes the university will engage with students first on the initiatives before “throwing us into the depths of these announcements”.
Several final-year Yale-NUS students on campus expressed sadness about the loss of college culture.
The smaller size of Yale-NUS meant students felt “closer to management”, said 22-year-old student Alice, who declined to give her real name.
“Whatever we feel about certain things, we feel comfortable voicing it out. ... And if we scale up, I'm not sure how much support there will be in the future. I’ve just had a good time in this school and thinking how it will change (makes me) a bit sad,” she told CNA.
“This space is quite special, especially in Singapore … The founding faculty and admin knew what it was like to run a small liberal college,” said Henry (not his real name), 24.
“There’s a closeness that’s not contrived, but actually cultivated. I think a lot of people are saying they have no faith that they will be able to replicate it in a larger (setting).
“(Here at Yale-NUS), boys can wear dresses, and in orientation there were people who would dance in the rain. People can just do what they want and (other) people would leave you alone. I’m happy that there was this space, even if you weren’t so inclined to dance in the mud.”
Final-year student Lucas said he feels “doomed and lost”.
“What’s the point of anything now, if all I can say is that I’m from a failed experiment that no longer exists? Why was this not made more transparent?” the 24-year-old said.
Freshmen at Yale-NUS were also reminded to pay their university fees just before the announcement on Friday, he noted.
In an email sent to students on Aug 2 seen by CNA, the NUS Office of Finance said that the due date for the payment of tuition fees for the first semester of the 2021 academic year was Friday - the same day of the merger announcement - for all modes except GIRO.
Lucas felt news of the merger “trapped the freshmen”, and said he was advising all of them to drop out of the programme because of the “terrible planning”.
ALUMNI SURPRISED AND SAD
Alumni for both colleges also expressed shock and disappointment at the news.
An alumnus from the pioneer batch of Yale-NUS who only wanted to be known as Qistina said she was “genuinely shocked” despite having heard rumours of a merger.
Noting that NUS had also previously announced that it would form a new College of Humanities and Sciences in September 2020, she added that this news now “makes a bit more sense”.
The new NUS College of Humanities and Sciences
The NUS College of Humanities and Sciences was set up in 2021 as part of a push towards broad-based and interdisciplinary education.
Students admitted to the college belong to both the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences and the Faculty of Science. They have access to majors and minors offered in both faculties, as well as the three types of four-year honours degree programmes - Bachelor of Arts, Bachelor of Social Sciences and Bachelor of Science.
NUS announced the new college in September 2020. At the time, the university said the proposed curricula structure will allow for “greater flexibility and the cross-pollination of disciplines” across the humanities, social sciences, science and mathematics.
“The rapid pace of change in many industries means that the old model of intense academic specialisation will no longer work for our young adults," NUS president Professor Tan Eng Chye had said.
“Rather, graduates into the workforce will need breadth of knowledge, depth, as well as the ability to integrate multiple disciplines to solve complex problems.”
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“As an alumni, I don’t quite know yet how to process my relationship to an institution that will not exist in four years time. I don’t know how to process how my relationship with it will change, given that this is a completely new institution, and understandably it’s going to be very very different from the one that I knew and grew up in,” said Qistina.
She hopes that active student participation, which is a “core principle” at Yale-NUS, will continue on into the new college.
“I want the students to be able to take charge of their education and feel like they have a sense of ownership over it. In my batch, we definitely very strongly had the opportunity to do it because we were so new, we were the only ones who were experiencing everything for the first time,” Qistina told CNA.
“That’s something that, when I graduated, I wanted to continue. If they’re able to carry that into the new school, that would be wonderful because I don’t always see institutions giving students that autonomy.”
Another Yale-NUS alumnus from the pioneer batch who only wanted to be known as Mel told CNA: “Honestly, it is a mixture of shock and disappointment. USP is a great programme with its own merits, but Yale-NUS was always framed to us as an autonomous institution from the start.
“It was an experiment, but from the success and exciting outcomes of the first few batches, most of us felt that it was an experiment worth continuing. Unfortunately, we did feel like the carpet was suddenly pulled from under us with no warning.”
The tight community, the access to many disciplines and the diversity of people and ideas Yale-NUS students experience is “not something that can be easily recreated”, she told CNA.
“After graduation, I have not been able to find anything close to it, and it is something I have always missed, and will continue to miss.”
Although she is glad that interdisciplinary education paths are “gaining traction”, she hopes that the spirit of “thinking with different hats, critical thought and bravery to explore new paths” will continue to be embraced in the new college.
“I worry for the younger batches who are still in Yale-NUS, as they were sold a dream and a concept that they will only get half of. The culture will inevitably be different, since the school will be much larger, but we can only be optimistic about it,” Mel added.
“If anything, perhaps the choice that NUS made is reflective of the success of Yale-NUS - so much so that it decided to multiply it to a bigger audience. But there is still a sense of loss and heartbreak in the small special space that we created, as the sense of intimacy and purpose to make this project work will be lost.”
Yale-NUS College campus. (Photo: Yale-NUS College)
USP alumni Chan Meiyi said she was quite surprised by the announcement as both institutions are quite young, noting that USP and Yale-NUS were set up in 2001 and 2011 respectively.
“I feel that it hasn’t been a particularly long time since the university’s infrastructure has gone through changes,” said Ms Chan, who graduated in 2011.
“It’s barely been 10 years, so I don’t feel like either of the colleges or USP itself has had a sufficiently long time to grow really significant and meaningful roots in the community.”
USP’s small cohort size, especially before Cinnamon College was established, was a reason for the programme’s success and strong alumni ties, she added.
“The decision to terminate USP by merger for reasons of 'scale' is therefore quite disappointing,” said Ms Chan.
Adding that the merger announcement is “a bit surprising, somewhat disheartening”, she said: “I’m not very encouraged by it because it makes me question why there are so many changes in a relatively short amount of time for an academic institution.”
Ms Chan also noted that the common curriculum at the new college would be enhanced with science, technology, engineering and math elements.
“It’s a bit disheartening because the whole point of USP was not to privilege any particular discipline. It was to allow people from various disciplines to take classes in other disciplines,” she said.
“Once you’re saying that we’re going to be enhancing it with STEM aspects, or even to say we’re going to be enhancing it with humanities aspects, I would be questioning what the objective is now.
“In the past, USP was a very open-ended disciplinary programme. When you weigh it (more) in certain areas, to me, that’s a different programme. Now it has a slightly different agenda from what I was used to when I was a student.”
Climate activists want a new US central bank chief — here’s why
Current US Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell has drawn ire from Republicans for his policies regarding climate change, while progressives feel he hasn’t gone far enough to address the crisis.
Climate change activists want the administration of United States President Joe Biden to replace Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell with a more climate-friendly US central bank chief [File: Susan Walsh/AP Photo]
On Friday, central bankers, finance ministers, government officials, academics and financial market participants are set to discuss the biggest economic issues facing the United States and the world as part of the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City’s Economic Policy Symposium in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
This year’s gathering will be held virtually due to concerns about the fast-spreading Delta variant of the coronavirus.
But protestors eager to use the heavy-hitting economic policy event to shed a light on climate change concerns have already taken action in person.
Earlier this month, professional hikers and climate advocates associated with climate action organisation 350.org climbed to the top of Teewinot Mountain in Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park and unfurled a banner that read “Stop the Money Pipeline”.
A team of professional climbers and climate activists ascended Teewinot Mountain in Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park to drape a large ‘Stop the Money Pipeline’ banner and call for climate finance action [Courtesy: Erich Roepke/350.org]
The group is among several environmental organisations that are calling on policymakers to use Jackson Hole as an opportunity to commit to making domestic and global economic policy “steered toward a modern, clean energy economy to meet the demands of climate change”.
Here’s what you need to know about climate activists’ demands on the US Federal Reserve — and what they want to see happen with its current chair, Jerome Powell. Rewind. What does the Fed have to do with climate change?
Plenty. The Fed, the US’s central bank, is responsible for oversight of the country’s financial system, and therefore has a role to play in pushing the US toward a greener economy — or not.
The Jackson Hole symposium will also be attended by government and finance officials from other nations who have the power to do the same. What has the Fed said in the past about climate change?
In March, the Fed released a report that analysed financial stability risk arising from climate change. And last year, the Fed joined an international organisation of central banks and regulators to “coordinate on managing the risks that climate change poses to the financial industry”.
These risks include backing banks that invest in mortgages in houses in environmentally vulnerable areas, like those prone to flooding. Another risk is backing loans for oil and gas-based businesses that might fail if they’re unable to switch to renewable energy someday.
Does everyone like the Fed jumping in?
Nope. Like everything in the US’s highly polarised political climate, partisan disagreements on this issue abound.
Twelve Republican senators wrote a letter to Powell accusing the organisation of going “beyond the scope of the Federal Reserve’s mission”.
Powell addressed the backlash in an interview with the Economic Club of Washington, DC in April.
“The reason we’re focused on climate change is that our job is to make sure that financial institutions, banks, particularly the largest ones, understand and are able to manage the significant risks that they take,” Powell said. “We see it only through the lens of that existing mandate.” What about progressives?
They’re not happy, either.
The US Fed received a grade of D- on a scorecard that was created by Positive Money, an advocacy group promoting a sustainable economy, and that was designed to rank central bank policies’ greenness across Group of 20 countries.
For context, China received the highest score, which was still a mediocre C.
However, the US, alongside most countries, did receive a 10 out of 10 from the group when it comes to “research and advocacy”. This, the organisation says, “shows that actions are failing to match up to words”. So what do climate activists want to come from the Jackson Hole gathering?
Activists from 64 organisations, including 350.org, wrote to Powell urging several policy shifts.
First, they want fossil fuel investments to be phased out from the Fed, and policy adapted and formalised to incorporate climate risk. The groups are asking the US to take this step prior to the COP26 summit in November, when leaders from around the world will participate in a United Nations global summit on their plans to tackle climate change.
They also want to raise awareness about how central banks contribute to the climate crisis and see them change any policy and regulatory practices that are incompatible with the 2015 Paris Agreement on climate change.
Climate activists also hope to put pressure on the Biden administration to appoint a “real climate leader” as Fed chairman, replacing Powell. The nomination is expected around the Labor Day holiday, which takes place in early September. So will Powell be replaced?
Fed watchers seem to think it’s unlikely that Biden will replace Powell, especially as he continues to be a calm presence in a volatile economy still recovering from the shocks caused by the coronavirus pandemic.
While other names have been bandied about, including current Fed Governor Lael Brainard, Wall Street is backing Powell for a second term.
Federal Governor Lael Brainard could replace Fed Vice Chairman Randal Quarles
[File: Andrew Harrer/Bloomberg]
The White House has not commented on whether it is considering a Powell replacement. A progressive alternate would potentially have huge ripple effects not only on Wall Street but across the world.
But climate activists may have an opportunity for progressive influence even if Biden renominates Powell. That’s because Fed Vice Chairman Randal Quarles’s term expires in October.
Fed watchers believe Biden will replace Quarles, and anticipate Brainard, who could prioritise climate change more, might be on that shortlist.
In the meantime, even though the central bank summit is virtual this year, activists hope leaders will pause to note the smoke in the air from the recent West Coast wildfires, Mike Wittig, a member of 350 Silicon Valley, said in a statement, adding “We hope that the evidence of climate change literally before and in their eyes moves the Fed to emergency action needed on climate change.”
SOURCE: AL JAZEERA
This is how much the Big Six banks would have to pay if Trudeau's tax goes through But the big losers could be bank shareholders
SNIFF; THERE IS A TEAR IN MY BEER, A CROCODILE TEAR
Author of the article: Stephanie Hughes Publishing date:Aug 26, 2021 •
Liberal leader Justin Trudeau is pledging to raise corporate taxes on banks and insurance companies earning more than $1 billion per year.
PHOTO BY GIGI SUHANIC/NATIONAL POST ILLUSTRATION
The Liberal Party is vowing to target bank and life insurance profits with a three per cent surtax on profits over $1 billion, a move they expect will free up an additional $2.5 billion a year in government revenue over the next four years starting from 2022.
Given the sizeable earnings the Canadian banks reported this week, the Big Six could end up contributing a significant amount to government coffers under the plan. But just how much would each bank be forced to pay?
Royal Bank of Canada (RBC), which has reported year-to-date adjusted net income of roughly $12.2 billion, would likely pay the most. Though taxable income and reported income are not necessarily the same, an approximate calculation based on $11.2 billion in income above the threshold would see RBC forking over an additional $334.7 million on this year’s earnings so far.
Using this same methodology, Toronto-Dominion Bank would have to pay $285.5 million on their year-to-date net income, the Bank of Nova Scotia (Scotiabank) could be paying the government approximately $191.9 million, the Bank of Montreal would owe about $137.9 million, the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce (CIBC)’s surtax proceeds would amount to around $120.2 million, and National Bank would pay out around $42.0 million.
And that’s only through three quarters of fiscal 2021.
For the last full fiscal year — the pandemic stricken 2020, where earnings came under pressure — data from Bloomberg shows that Canada’s Big Six banks still earned between $2 billion and $12 billion in unadjusted net income. Based on the same methodology described above, calculations from Financial Post suggest TD would have paid the most at $326.9 million.
The Canadian Bankers Association yesterday criticized the Liberal plan for singling out financial services.
On Tuesday, the Canadian Labour Congress issued a report which advocated for higher taxes among high-earning corporations and wealthy Canadians as well as for the government to close tax loopholes, hoping to free up over $90 billion annually to address wealth inequalities.
— With additional reporting by Barbara Shecter
VACATION TIME UNUSED
Commentary: Does the pandemic make it harder to take long stretches of annual leave?
It isn’t always about having too much to do or not knowing where to draw boundaries. Many still believe leave is wasted without travel, says CNA’s Grace Yeoh.
SINGAPORE: I am quite the hypocrite when it comes to fighting hustle culture.
Despite reminding my friends of the importance of rest amid the pandemic and busy seasons at work, and writing many times about tackling burnout, I haven’t taken annual leave since the start of this financial year. As much as I am entitled to do so, I suspect I don’t really want nor see a need to.
But it’s not for want of trying.
In an attempt to walk the talk for this commentary, I signed into my company’s HR portal several times, stared at the amount of leave I have remaining, selected a two-week block when I could afford time off … and closed the tab without submitting my leave application.
This conundrum isn’t unique to the pandemic. Pre-pandemic, I found myself unable to completely “switch off” my work brain during my leave. I was constantly brainstorming new ideas for stories, on account of being on social media.
Eventually, it became hard to take leave because I was convinced it was a waste of time, since I was still “working”.
And when the pandemic hit, it forced me to slow down in my daily work habits. I no longer needed long stretches of leave to recuperate like I did pre-pandemic when leave was set aside for obvious leisure activities, such as travel.
Either way, I was stuck with mounting pressure to clear my annual leave — but now, with the added feeling that I’d be wasting it if I spent it in Singapore.
WHY WE DON’T TAKE LEAVE
I’m not alone in my failure to clear leave.
It might have been easier to find reasons to take leave before the pandemic; few people took a two-week break without leaving the country or making major plans with friends and family.
Still, we know people who didn’t clear their leave and accumulated so much that they had to give it up.
Whenever friends struggled with clearing leave pre-pandemic because they had too much work and not enough time to complete it before their leave, I’d scoff and tell them work is never ending, so it’s pointless to heap such an unrealistic expectation on oneself.
They would cite common reasons for not going on leave: Guilt for “abandoning” colleagues, unspoken expectations to maintain constant productivity to remain in an employer’s good books, tying self-worth to work performance. Some would even humblebrag that they couldn’t afford time off, seeing being busy as a mark of competence.
Underlying these reasons, however, was an inability to draw boundaries, which only seems to have worsened almost two years into work-from-home (WFH). For many of us, work has become the default, and life is whatever that’s left over after we’re done for the day, however late that may be.
WE STILL CAN’T TRAVEL
Pre-pandemic, travel was synonymous with rest, so we reserved long stretches of leave for faraway adventures. As a result, being unable to travel has affected our leave plans.
In December 2020, CNA ran a story about companies that adjusted their leave policies because employees were struggling to clear their leave since being unable to travel for leisure.
“Many employees tend to not take annual leave when they are working from home, as they do not feel like they need a ‘getaway’ from the office environment,” Ms Jaya Dass, Randstad’s managing director for Singapore and Malaysia, had shared
The report added that some employees hoped to carry their leave forward to this year for leisure travel purposes. This was despite no clear sign that we’d be out of the woods.
When the COVID-19 multi-ministry task force announced on Thursday (Aug 19) that Singapore would launch its first vaccinated travel lanes with Germany and Brunei on Sep 8, my social media feed was filled with excited updates from friends mentally planning their next trip.
Even though the news was merely a baby step towards travelling again, it offered a glimmer of hope that long holidays and quarantine-free travel weren’t a pipe dream anymore.
Yet, the news also lulled me into a false sense of hope that the country I’d been holding out for could be next in line, making me more reluctant to spend my annual leave. I’d been saving my leave to visit loved ones in Malaysia despite their rising COVID-19 case numbers.
While it’s unrealistic to save my leave until Malaysia reopens for international leisure travel, the allure of travel is understandable. With travel, our daily environment is markedly different, enforcing at least a physical escape from work, if not a mental one.
Work from home has altered the way we view leave.
(Photo: Mimi Thian/ Unsplash)
But WFH means we remain in the same space that we work on leave, making it harder to detach from work. For instance, we might decide to check our email to mitigate the stress of clearing hundreds of emails at once upon return to work, and refusing this impulse is harder now since we’re within close reach of our work desk while on leave.
Even if we cave and attend to work just once a day, these minute actions pile up, preventing us from completely going on vacation. For some of us, we’d still feel on edge during our leave that we might even require another break to decompress from the break.
Ultimately, using a long stretch of leave to do anything "less than" travel feels futile and wasteful now.
CHANGING OUR PERSPECTIVE OF LEAVE
Regardless of whether we want to clear our leave, the reality is we need to. Those of us who experience inertia could start to look at annual leave in a different light.
For one, there’s no need to take a large chunk at once, even though this may have been our norm before the pandemic.
Instead, we could consider taking a day’s leave every alternate week, ensuring we work four-day weeks at least twice a month.
There have already been loud calls to implement a four-day work week, with some companies like Microsoft Japan already finding gains, according to a Forbes report from 2019. Workers were “happier” and there was also a “40 per cent gain in productivity”.
But rather than wait for policymakers or employers to decide what’s best for us, perhaps we can experiment with this idea ourselves.
For me, Wednesday is the best day of the week to go on leave, because it allows me to be hyper productive for a short two days, take a breather, then go full force again for a couple of days before the weekend.
Even though it might appear such a brief break barely allows us to destress before we dive right back into work the next day, this single-day leave isn’t about deep rest. It’s simply akin to a hydration pitstop in a marathon, replenishing our energy for the next leg.
Moreover, taking a day off on a constant basis, rather than accumulating leave only to take a few weeks at once, might give you something to look forward to regularly and help mental wellbeing in the long term.
Alternatively, consider this radical approach: We don’t need to have a purpose for taking leave.
This is something I’ve always intellectually understood, but I only recently realised I never quite practised it. I took leave when I felt I’d earned my rest, such as after a productive few months or goals were met. And when I finally took leave, I needed my rest to be productive too, lest I “waste” my precious time off work.
But what if resting without a productivity-driven goal wasn’t a waste of time and was, in fact, liberating?
To many of us, especially people like me, this foreign concept takes some getting used to. But I want to learn to rest for its own sake, not because it will help me fulfill a great or meaningful purpose.
Taking leave could simply mean not having to set an alarm.
The Right To Be Lazy BEING A REPUDIATION OF THE “RIGHT TO WORK” OF 1848 By Paul Lafargue Translated and adapted from the French by Dr. Harriet Lothrop. Published by the INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING CO., 23 Duane Street, New York 1898 PAUL LAFARGUE (1841–1911) AUTHOR’S PREFACE. In 1849, Thiers, as member of the Commission on Instruction in Elementary
‘Do-gooders’, conservatives and reluctant recyclers: how personal morals can be harnessed for climate action
August 25, 2021
There’s no shortage of evidence pointing to the need to act urgently on climate change. Most recently, a report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change confirmed Earth has warmed 1.09℃ since pre-industrial times and many changes, such as sea-level rise and glacier melt, cannot be stopped.
Clearly, emissions reduction efforts to date have fallen abysmally short. But why, when the argument in favour of climate action is so compelling?
Decisions about climate change require judging what’s important, and how the world should be now and in future. Therefore, climate change decisions are inherently moral. The rule applies whether the decision is being made by an individual deciding what food to eat, or national governments setting goals at international climate negotiations.
Our research reviewed the most recent literature across the social and behavioural sciences to better understand the moral dimensions of climate decisions. We found some moral values, such as fairness, motivate action. Others, such as economic liberty, stoke inaction.
Those who prioritise economic liberty may be less willing to take climate action. Shutterstock
Morals as climate motivators
Our research uncovered a large body of research confirming people’s moral values are connected to their willingness to act on climate change.
But which moral values best motivate personal actions? Our research documents a study in the United States, which found the values of compassion and fairness were a strong predictor of someone’s willingness to act on climate change.
According to moral foundations theory, the value of compassion relates to humans’ evolution as mammals with attachment systems and an ability to feel and dislike the pain of others.
Fairness relates to the evolutionary process of “reciprocal altruism”. This describes a situation whereby an organism acts in a way that temporarily disadvantages itself while benefiting another, based on an expectation that the altruism will be reciprocated at a later time.
Conversely, a study in Australia found people who put a lower value on fairness, compared to either the maintenance of social order or the right to economic freedom, were more likely to be sceptical about climate change.
People may also use moral “disengagement” to justify, and assuage guilt over, their own climate inaction. In other words, they convince themselves that ethical standards do not apply in a particular context.
For example, a longitudinal study of 1,355 Australians showed over time, people who became more morally disengaged became more sceptical about climate change, were less likely to feel responsible and were less likely to act.
Our research found the moral values driving efforts to reduce emissions (mitigation) were different to those driving climate change adaptation.
Research in the United Kingdom showed people emphasised the values of responsibility and respect for authorities, country and nature, when talking about mitigation. When evaluating adaptation options, they emphasised moral values such as protection from harm and fair distribution of economic costs.
Moral reasoning helps shape climate beliefs, including climate scepticism.
Joel Carrett/AAP
Framing climate decisions
How government and private climate decisions are framed and communicated affects who they resonate with, and whether they’re seen as legitimate.
Research suggests climate change could be made morally relevant to more people if official climate decisions appealed to moral values associated with right-wing political leanings.
A US study found liberals interpreted climate change in moral terms related to harm and care, while conservatives did not. But when researchers reframed pro-environmental messages in terms of moral values that resonated with conservatives, such as defending the purity of nature, differences in the environmental attitudes of both groups narrowed.
Indeed, research shows moral reframing can change pro-environmental behaviours of different political groups, including recycling habits.
In the US, people were found to recycle more after the practice was reframed in moral terms that resonated with their political ideology. For conservatives, the messages appealed to their sense of civic duty and respect for authority. For liberals, the messages emphasised recycling as an act of fairness, care and reducing harm to others.
Reframing of messages can help encourage habits such as recycling.
James Ross/AAP
When moralising backfires
Clearly, morals are central to decision-making about the environment. In some cases, this can extend to people adopting – or being seen to adopt – a social identity with moral associations such as “zero-wasters”, “voluntary simplifiers” and cyclists.
People may take on these identities overtly, such as by posting about their actions on social media. In other cases, a practice someone adopts, such as cycling to work, can be construed by others as a moral action.
Being seen to hold a social identity based on a set of morals may actually have unintended effects. Research has found so-called “do-gooders” can be perceived by others as irritating rather than inspiring. They may also trigger feelings of inadequacy in others who, as a self-defense mechanism, might then dismiss the sustainable choices of the “do-gooder”.
For example, sociologists have theorised that some non-vegans avoid eating a more plant-based diet because they don’t want to be associated with the social identity of veganism.
It makes sense, then, that gentle encouragement such as “meat-free Mondays” is likely more effective at reducing meat consumption than encouraging people to “go vegan” and eliminate meat altogether. Looking ahead
Personal climate decisions come with a host of moral values and quandaries. Understanding and navigating this moral dimension will be critical in the years ahead.
When making climate-related decisions, governments should consider the moral values of citizens. This can be achieved through procedures like deliberative democracy and citizen’s forums, in which everyday people are given the chance to discuss and debate the issues, and communicate to government what matters most to them.
Authors
Jacqueline Lau Research Fellow, ARC Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies, James Cook University
Andrew Song Lecturer / ARC Discovery Early Career Research Fellow (DECRA), University of Technology Sydney
Jessica Blythe Assistant Professor, Environmental Sustainability Research Centre, Brock University Disclosure statement
Jacqueline Lau is affiliated with WorldFish—an international, not for profit research organization and part of the CGIAR that seeks to deliver research for a more food secure world, particularly for societies most vulnerable women and men. This research was supported by the ARC Centre for Excellence in Coral Reef Studies, and the CGIAR Research Program on Fish Agri-Food Systems.
Andrew Song receives funding from the Australian Research Council.
Jessica Blythe receives funding from the Social Science Research Council (SSHRC). Partners
The Biden administration’s emerging efforts to slash emissions of methane — a greenhouse gas triggering alarms across the globe — is setting the stage for a new clash among lawmakers, agricultural interests and the energy industry.
Carbon dioxide commands most of the attention when it comes to plans to combat climate change, but the Biden administration and some Democrats are shifting focus to methane, the greenhouse gas second-most responsible for heating the planet. Methane emissions have boomed since 2007, largely from oil and gas production propelled by the fracking revolution, and atmospheric concentrations are at their highest level in 800,000 years, according to the latest United Nations' Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report. Scientists around the world increasingly say that curbing the gas — which traps heat 86 times more effectively over 20 years than carbon dioxide — is the clearest near-term way to put the planet on a more sustainable temperature trajectory.
But wrestling methane is presenting a new round of political and practical complications for the Biden administration: Agriculture, including livestock and land-based systems, accounts for 40 percent of global methane emissions — spurring concern among Republicans and farm-state Democrats about regulatory efforts to tackle the problem.
Senate Democrats plan to include a so-called “methane polluter fee” in their $3.5 trillion budget resolution that would hit energy producers that vent or burn off excess methane and compressors used to pressurize and transport natural gas. Several also introduced legislation this month requiring refiners and oil and gas producers operating in the United States to pay into a fund based on a share of their global carbon and methane emissions.
"The methane polluter fee targets industry leakage, which even the fossil fuel industry has a hard time defending," Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-R.I.) told POLITICO. "I think that the public more and more cares about climate change and people understand that methane is a particularly powerful greenhouse gas – indeed more powerful than carbon dioxide. So it seems like addressing it is a good thing."
Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-R.I.) on Capitol Hill March 2, 2021. | Francis Chung/E&E News
Whitehouse said the Senate Budget Committee informed him that his bill with Sens. Brian Schatz (D-Hawaii) and Cory Booker (D-N.J.) will form the basis of the polluter fee. That legislation calls for a $1,800 per ton fee on oil and gas producers whose emissions rate perform worse than regional averages.
Environmental allies who have joined Democrats in challenging the fossil fuel industry's political power, misinformation tactics and for causing climate change also believe addressing methane is a winning political strategy.
“It’s to help the worst performers to clean up their act. It’s to get them to avoid paying the fee because we’re basically setting money on fire," National Wildlife Federation CEO Collin O'Mara said. "It’s great policy, but I also think it’s good politics to be incentivizing companies to reduce their waste, which in the long run is going to end up saving consumers money.”
Mark Brownstein, senior vice president for energy at the Environmental Defense Fund, drew connections to ongoing wildfires, droughts and floods in reasoning the public is ready to embrace a fee on methane emissions. He noted that already available technology can reduce oil and gas methane emissions 75 percent from current levels, and that the evolution of remote sensing by drone and aircraft has also reduced costs for curbing methane.
"Over a quarter of the warming we’re seeing right now is being driven by methane emissions from human activities," he said. "We know that by controlling methane pollution from the oil and gas industry we can make a major difference in addressing the climate problem that’s affecting all of us today. That’s the key issue.”
But Republicans are preparing to fight Democrats’ efforts by saying it would increase costs to everyday Americans for things like home heating, electricity and groceries.
A fee on methane emissions would function as an implicit tax hike on Americans with less disposable income, making it "violative" of Biden's pledge to avoid raising taxes on people earning less than $400,000, said Mike McKenna, a Republican lobbyist who works with energy companies.
“What the Republicans need to do is just remind everybody there has to be cheaper ways to do this," he said.
Some have taken to calling the proposed methane polluter fee a “cow tax” — tied to longstanding GOP efforts to portray Biden and Democrats as going after Americans’ hamburgers.
"Our hard-working livestock producers should not have to worry about being subject to onerous regulations and increased production costs," Sen. Joni Ernst (R-Iowa) said this month on the Senate floor about Democrats' proposal for a fee on methane emissions. "This 'cow tax' will just result in higher food costs for Americans at the grocery store at a time when inflation already has caused prices to skyrocket."
Sen. Joni Ernst (R-Iowa) on Capitol Hill Jan. 28, 2021. | Francis Chung/E&E News
The Biden administration is weighing in on the side of curbing methane emissions, teasing it has big plans it will soon announce, but understanding that it will walk a fine line in doing so as any comprehensive policy to curb methane would have to tackle agriculture. That presents challenges to Democrats wary of alienating rural and centrist voters. So the administration has been careful to avoid talk of new regulations for agriculture, where livestock like cows account for a large share of emissions, instead speaking in terms of carrots such as incentives and voluntary programs for agricultural methane.
On the energy side, EPA Administrator Michael Regan tweeted after the IPCC report release that “we are developing strong standards to reduce methane — a potent greenhouse gas identified by the IPCC for urgent action.” Those rules would build on Obama-era standards for controlling methane leaks at new and existing oil and gas operations. They are on track for completion in September and would utilize new technology to help locate so-called "super-emitting" methane leaks, according to an EPA spokesperson.
“Reading the tea leaves, I think this administration is likely to use its whole of government approach and make sure all of its relevant departments — including Agriculture and Energy — are doing everything possible to reduce this potent climate pollution,” said Sarah Smith, super pollutants director at environmental group Clean Air Task Force.
The Biden administration is calculating just how much damage methane causes. White House National Climate Adviser Gina McCarthy's office is working on a social cost of methane, which would assign a monetary value to the benefits of reducing methane that the administration could use to justify regulations. White House climate advisor Gina McCarthy and Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg during a press conference on President Biden's American Jobs Plan at a newly installed EV charging station at Union Station in Washington, D.C., April 22, 2021. | Francis Chung/E&E News
"We absolutely are looking at climate change and looking to ensure that we consider climate across the administration every action we take. And part of that is revisiting the social cost of carbon and the social cost of methane, which is an ongoing reassessment at this point," McCarthy said in a recent interview.
Another potential complication lies in the international approach to combating methane emissions. The governments of Japan and other countries and pressure from U.S. oil and gas firms are working to keep options for natural gas open for countries that currently run on coal, such as those in energy-poor Africa, since burning that fuel produces half the carbon dioxide when burned for electricity.
But greens say an instant switch to zero-emitting energy like wind and solar is all that can save the planet, arguing that methane leaks from producing and transporting natural gas outweigh its supposed climate advantage over coal.
Departments of Treasury, State and Energy also are putting the final touches on an international climate finance plan, which is expected to include an emissions performance standard that would guide investments in overseas projects, said Jake Schmidt, senior strategic director for international climate at the Natural Resources Defense Council and Kate DeAngelis, international finance program manager at Friends of the Earth.
The finance plan will likely include some exemptions that would allow fossil fuel finance — particularly oil and natural gas — in cases where it promotes development or national security objectives. Between 2008 and 2018, nearly two-thirds of the additional 47 gigawatts of energy capacity supported by bilateral U.S. finance went to fossil fuel projects, particularly natural gas, according to research published last week by researchers at Boston University Global Development Policy Center and Princeton University.
Environmental campaigners hope to limit exemptions and are pressing the Biden administration that any investments in natural gas, such as financing facilities in other countries to import liquefied natural gas, are inconsistent with its goals of keeping the planet from heating 1.5 degrees C — a case the IPCC report makes all the more clear, Schmidt said.
“What they’ve been signaling to folks is it’s going to be an aggressive standard, it’s going to be a strong signal to the rest of the world,” Schmidt said. “But we haven’t seen the details.”
Why politicians should read the grim climate report
The oil and gas industry contends it is self-motivated to stop methane leaks, given any escaping gas is something they would otherwise sell. But the burdens for detecting and repairing those leaks are less significant for larger producers that have said they are open to methane rules compared with smaller U.S. drillers who find regulations onerous — and potentially a death knell. The Independent Petroleum Association of America, which represents small drillers, criticized EPA's efforts as a "'one-size-fits-all' approach" that is "inappropriate and disproportionally impacts conventional operations, low production wells, and small businesses."
Larger companies are concerned about their social license to operate given ever-restrictive climate rules and growing public angst to address rising emissions, said Kevin O'Scannlain, vice president of upstream policy with the American Petroleum Institute. API and major oil and gas companies such as Royal Dutch Shell and Exxon Mobil have thus advocated for methane regulations, though they also are still significant methane emitters.
API officials have met with top Biden administration personnel, including Regan and McCarthy, to discuss methane regulations.
"We are actively working with the administration in support of the direct regulation of methane from new and existing sources," O'Scannlain said in emailed responses, adding, "[W]e know there is more work to be done and federal policymaking can play a role."
But O'Scannlain said API does not support the Democratic push to impose a methane fee on oil and gas producers, which he said would be duplicative of existing regulations while failing to address emissions from agriculture.
Three sources from the oil and gas sector told POLITICO that they see Democratic proposals to include the fee in a $3.5 trillion Senate budget resolution as an avenue to imposing a price on emissions.
“It’s going to be tough,” said an oil and gas industry official, who asked for anonymity to discuss private conversations with companies. “This administration is moving without the wild fluctuations of the previous one on policy, and it seems to be moving directly.”
