Vaclav Smil's "Numbers Don't Lie" is a collection of essays that explores various global trends, from demographic shifts and economic indicators to technological advancements and humanity's impact on the environment. Smil highlights how reliable data and statistics can illuminate complex issues and provides insight into the forces shaping our world.
Among the critical factors influencing our future is the dramatic shift in global fertility rates. Smil argues that the role of the Total Fertility Rate (TFR) in global dynamics is pivotal. Historically, societies flourished with high fertility rates as they needed larger families to address high infant mortality, labor demands, and old-age security. As living standards improved, industrialization advanced, and women’s roles evolved, the focus shifted from the quantity of children to enhancing the quality of life. This transition, characterized by a reduction in TFR, has been driven by greater access to education, healthcare, and improved economic conditions. Countries like Iran and South Korea have experienced sharp declines in fertility rates within just a few decades, contrasting with the more gradual fall seen in Europe. Currently, a significant drop in fertility rates below replacement levels (2.1) is observed globally, with projections indicating this trend will continue. This shift is altering the demographic balance, diminishing Europe's global share while accelerating population growth in Africa. Smil says, nations facing below-replacement fertility rate may confront long-term challenges, such as economic stagnation and population decline, potentially mitigated only through immigration or substantial policy reforms.
To gauge the impact of such demographic shifts on quality of life, economists often use GDP or disposable income. However, these metrics have limitations: GDP can also rise in societies with increased violence or security needs, while disposable income does not account for economic inequality or social support systems. The Human Development Index (HDI) improves on this by incorporating education and life expectancy, but it still correlates closely with GDP. To provide a clearer picture, Smil proposes using infant mortality rate (IMR)—the number of deaths within the first year per 1,000 live births. Low IMR indicates good healthcare, nutrition, and living conditions, reflecting broader quality of life factors. Historically, IMR was high, but modern affluent countries now have rates below 5 per 1,000. Nevertheless, interpreting infant mortality requires context, as countries with the lowest rates, like Japan, South Korea, Iceland, and Norway, are often small, homogeneous, and have low birth rates, complicating comparisons with larger, more diverse nations. For instance, the U.S. and Canada face relatively higher IMR partly due to economic inequality and diverse populations. Despite his insights, Smil reminds that no single measure fully captures a nation's quality of life, though infant mortality remains a powerful indicator of overall well-being.
In a related context, Smil highlights the exceptional cost-effectiveness of vaccination as a strategy for preventing childhood deaths from infectious diseases. While nutrition, clean water and sanitation are undeniably crucial, vaccines offer an outstanding benefit-cost ratio. Tracing the evolution of vaccines—from the 18th-century smallpox vaccine to today’s pentavalent vaccine, which protects against five diseases—he illustrates their profound impact. Each dose costs less than $1 and provides herd immunity, safeguarding even those who are unvaccinated. A 2016 study funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation underscores the financial advantages of vaccination: in low- and middle-income countries, every dollar spent on vaccines saves $16 in healthcare costs and lost productivity. When factoring in broader economic benefits, the return on investment rises to 44:1, with measles prevention offering the highest return at 58:1. Despite these successes, challenges persist in achieving universal vaccination coverage, as evidenced by ongoing efforts to eradicate polio. As new infectious diseases like COVID-19 emerge, vaccines remain a critical line of defense, underscoring their essential role in enhancing public health and quality of life.
Smil also discusses that a comprehensive understanding of economic metrics requires looking beyond single statistics. To illustrate he takes the example of the unemployment rate. This commonly cited figure, which only includes those actively seeking work, fails to capture the full complexity of labor market challenges. It overlooks individuals who have ceased job searches, those in temporary positions, and part-time workers desiring full-time employment. Furthermore, unemployment statistics can vary greatly across countries and regions, reflecting the impact of diverse economic and social conditions. Spain's high unemployment rate, particularly among youth, contrasts with the lower rate in the Czech Republic, though both countries report similar levels of life satisfaction. These discrepancies highlight the limitations of aggregate unemployment data, emphasizing the need for a more nuanced understanding that considers labor force participation rates and the broader economic context. Just as vaccines provide critical benefits beyond their initial costs, a deeper analysis of unemployment data is essential for capturing the true health of labor markets and individual well-being.
This need for nuanced metrics extends to other areas of analysis, such as happiness measurement. For instance, in examining the World Happiness Report, which ranks countries based on self-reported happiness, Smil critiques its methodology and highlights its limitations. He points out several weaknesses, including the selection of variables like GDP and subjective questions that are open to cultural bias. Additionally, Smil questions the validity of precise rankings (down to the third decimal point) and notes a lack of correlation between happiness scores and suicide rates, which further casts doubt on the report's accuracy. More intriguingly, Smil identifies that some troubled countries, all former Spanish colonies and predominantly Catholic, rank higher in happiness than wealthier, more stable nations. This observation suggests that cultural factors may significantly influence happiness beyond mere wealth and economic development. Just as a nuanced analysis of unemployment data reveals a more accurate picture of labor markets, a deeper investigation into happiness metrics can provide a clearer understanding of well-being across different cultures.
Similarly, a thorough understanding of historical events is crucial for grasping their full impact. The First World War, marked by its centennial in November 2018, stands as a seminal event with profound and enduring consequences. While the Second World War surpassed it in sheer destructiveness, WW1 was instrumental in shaping the 20th century's tragic trajectory. Its immediate aftermath saw the rise of totalitarian regimes—Communism in Russia, Fascism in Italy, and Nazism in Germany—directly feeding into the subsequent global conflict and enduring geopolitical tensions like NATO versus Russia and the Korean divide. Technologically, WW1 was a crucible for modern warfare innovations. It saw the introduction of tanks, diesel-powered submarines, and aerial bombing, setting the stage for even more lethal advancements in WW2. Notably, the synthesis of ammonia by Fritz Haber and its commercial application in large-scale production of fertilizers and explosives allowed Germany to sustain its war effort despite a naval blockade. This breakthrough in chemical engineering highlights the peculiarity of the First World War: despite its static, trench-bound battles, it was a period of significant technological evolution that contributed to a cycle of violence and suffering extending into the following decades.
In examining the modern implications of these historical trends, Smil turns to the shifting dynamics in manufacturing within the global economy. His analysis highlights a paradox where the global value of manufactured goods has more than doubled—from $6.1 trillion in 2000 to $13.2 trillion in 2017—while its relative contribution to global economic output has declined, from 25% in 1970 to less than 16% in 2017. This trend is also mirrored in stock market valuations, where service companies often surpass manufacturers. Despite this, Smil argues that manufacturing remains a cornerstone of a robust economy due to its capacity to provide high-paying jobs, a benefit that service sectors often cannot match. For example, Toyota employed around 370,000 people in 2019, significantly more than Facebook’s 43,000 employees. This job creation underscores the ongoing importance of manufacturing in national economies. Smil further explores how established manufacturing powers like China, the US, Japan, and Germany vary in their reliance on manufacturing. While China's economy is heavily dependent on manufacturing (29% of GDP), the US relies on it to a lesser extent (12%). Ireland’s case is particularly interesting; its strategic use of low corporate taxes has transformed it into a manufacturing powerhouse, surpassing established giants like Switzerland in per capita manufacturing value.
In this evolving economic landscape, Smil prompts a broader reflection on the stability of empires throughout history. An analysis of historical empires reveals an average lifespan of about 220 years, with a notable decline in longevity after 1000 BCE. Case studies of various empires, including China, Spain, and Britain, show that even the most expansive empires eventually faced decline. The rapid dissolution of the Soviet empire exemplifies this trend. Short-lived empires such as Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan further illustrate the challenges of maintaining control over vast territories. The concept of an American empire is critically examined, with its inconclusive military interventions and diminishing global economic dominance suggesting a shift. The author concludes that historical lessons are pertinent for contemporary powers like China. The current expansionist policies in regions like Tibet and Xinjiang might not lead to long-term success, reinforcing that enduring influence relies more on genuine alliances than on forceful control.
Furthermore, while investigating the impact of past innovations on contemporary life, Smil challenges the notion that the late 20th and early 21st centuries represent the pinnacle of invention. Instead, the 1880s are argued to hold a stronger claim to this title. While microprocessors and radio waves, pivotal in modern technology, are undeniably transformative, they are built upon foundational discoveries from a century earlier: electricity and internal combustion engines. The author posits that electricity alone, even without the miniaturization afforded by microchips, could sustain a well-developed society. Conversely, the digital world, reliant on microchips, is wholly dependent on the electricity generated by methods pioneered in the 1880s, such as hydropower and thermal power, which still provide over 80% of the world’s electricity. Additionally, innovations like gasoline engines by Karl Benz, Wilhelm Maybach, and Gottlieb Daimler, and Rudolf Diesel’s diesel engine, revolutionized transportation industry. Heinrich Hertz’s experiments in the 1880s confirmed the existence of electromagnetic waves, leading to the wireless technologies we use today. Everyday items such as electric irons, deodorant, and Coca-Cola trace their origins back to this remarkable decade. The author concludes by noting a critical gap in public awareness—despite our fascination with digital advances, the profound impact of the 1880s' innovations remains largely unappreciated. These foundational advancements continue to shape our world in significant ways, even if their origins are not widely recognized.
In contrast to the profound impact of these foundational innovations, the concept of Moore’s Law introduces a different perspective on technological progress. Articulated by Gordon Moore in 1965, Moore’s Law predicted that the complexity of semiconductor components would double approximately every two years, reflecting rapid advancements in electronics. This exponential growth has revolutionized industries by making technology smaller, faster, and cheaper. However, this rapid progress in microchips creates an unrealistic expectation for general technological advancement. While Moore’s Law has driven remarkable strides in electronics, many other fields do not progress at the same pace. The author argues that advancements in fundamental areas such as food production, energy generation, and transportation exhibit a far more modest trajectory, typically ranging from 1.5% to 3% annually. Examples such as corn yields (2% annual increase) and steam turbine efficiency (1.5% annual increase) highlight the stark contrast between the blistering pace of Moore's Law and the more measured progress in essential industries. This phenomenon, termed "Moore's Curse," fosters unrealistic expectations for technological breakthroughs. Our visions of self-driving cars and 3D-printed organs, while not inconceivable, may be hindered by the sluggish progress in underlying technologies. Thus, the overall pace of technological progress outside the realm of microelectronics is governed by different factors, underscoring that Moore's Law does not universally apply.
To gauge the impact of such demographic shifts on quality of life, economists often use GDP or disposable income. However, these metrics have limitations: GDP can also rise in societies with increased violence or security needs, while disposable income does not account for economic inequality or social support systems. The Human Development Index (HDI) improves on this by incorporating education and life expectancy, but it still correlates closely with GDP. To provide a clearer picture, Smil proposes using infant mortality rate (IMR)—the number of deaths within the first year per 1,000 live births. Low IMR indicates good healthcare, nutrition, and living conditions, reflecting broader quality of life factors. Historically, IMR was high, but modern affluent countries now have rates below 5 per 1,000. Nevertheless, interpreting infant mortality requires context, as countries with the lowest rates, like Japan, South Korea, Iceland, and Norway, are often small, homogeneous, and have low birth rates, complicating comparisons with larger, more diverse nations. For instance, the U.S. and Canada face relatively higher IMR partly due to economic inequality and diverse populations. Despite his insights, Smil reminds that no single measure fully captures a nation's quality of life, though infant mortality remains a powerful indicator of overall well-being.
In a related context, Smil highlights the exceptional cost-effectiveness of vaccination as a strategy for preventing childhood deaths from infectious diseases. While nutrition, clean water and sanitation are undeniably crucial, vaccines offer an outstanding benefit-cost ratio. Tracing the evolution of vaccines—from the 18th-century smallpox vaccine to today’s pentavalent vaccine, which protects against five diseases—he illustrates their profound impact. Each dose costs less than $1 and provides herd immunity, safeguarding even those who are unvaccinated. A 2016 study funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation underscores the financial advantages of vaccination: in low- and middle-income countries, every dollar spent on vaccines saves $16 in healthcare costs and lost productivity. When factoring in broader economic benefits, the return on investment rises to 44:1, with measles prevention offering the highest return at 58:1. Despite these successes, challenges persist in achieving universal vaccination coverage, as evidenced by ongoing efforts to eradicate polio. As new infectious diseases like COVID-19 emerge, vaccines remain a critical line of defense, underscoring their essential role in enhancing public health and quality of life.
Smil also discusses that a comprehensive understanding of economic metrics requires looking beyond single statistics. To illustrate he takes the example of the unemployment rate. This commonly cited figure, which only includes those actively seeking work, fails to capture the full complexity of labor market challenges. It overlooks individuals who have ceased job searches, those in temporary positions, and part-time workers desiring full-time employment. Furthermore, unemployment statistics can vary greatly across countries and regions, reflecting the impact of diverse economic and social conditions. Spain's high unemployment rate, particularly among youth, contrasts with the lower rate in the Czech Republic, though both countries report similar levels of life satisfaction. These discrepancies highlight the limitations of aggregate unemployment data, emphasizing the need for a more nuanced understanding that considers labor force participation rates and the broader economic context. Just as vaccines provide critical benefits beyond their initial costs, a deeper analysis of unemployment data is essential for capturing the true health of labor markets and individual well-being.
This need for nuanced metrics extends to other areas of analysis, such as happiness measurement. For instance, in examining the World Happiness Report, which ranks countries based on self-reported happiness, Smil critiques its methodology and highlights its limitations. He points out several weaknesses, including the selection of variables like GDP and subjective questions that are open to cultural bias. Additionally, Smil questions the validity of precise rankings (down to the third decimal point) and notes a lack of correlation between happiness scores and suicide rates, which further casts doubt on the report's accuracy. More intriguingly, Smil identifies that some troubled countries, all former Spanish colonies and predominantly Catholic, rank higher in happiness than wealthier, more stable nations. This observation suggests that cultural factors may significantly influence happiness beyond mere wealth and economic development. Just as a nuanced analysis of unemployment data reveals a more accurate picture of labor markets, a deeper investigation into happiness metrics can provide a clearer understanding of well-being across different cultures.
Similarly, a thorough understanding of historical events is crucial for grasping their full impact. The First World War, marked by its centennial in November 2018, stands as a seminal event with profound and enduring consequences. While the Second World War surpassed it in sheer destructiveness, WW1 was instrumental in shaping the 20th century's tragic trajectory. Its immediate aftermath saw the rise of totalitarian regimes—Communism in Russia, Fascism in Italy, and Nazism in Germany—directly feeding into the subsequent global conflict and enduring geopolitical tensions like NATO versus Russia and the Korean divide. Technologically, WW1 was a crucible for modern warfare innovations. It saw the introduction of tanks, diesel-powered submarines, and aerial bombing, setting the stage for even more lethal advancements in WW2. Notably, the synthesis of ammonia by Fritz Haber and its commercial application in large-scale production of fertilizers and explosives allowed Germany to sustain its war effort despite a naval blockade. This breakthrough in chemical engineering highlights the peculiarity of the First World War: despite its static, trench-bound battles, it was a period of significant technological evolution that contributed to a cycle of violence and suffering extending into the following decades.
In examining the modern implications of these historical trends, Smil turns to the shifting dynamics in manufacturing within the global economy. His analysis highlights a paradox where the global value of manufactured goods has more than doubled—from $6.1 trillion in 2000 to $13.2 trillion in 2017—while its relative contribution to global economic output has declined, from 25% in 1970 to less than 16% in 2017. This trend is also mirrored in stock market valuations, where service companies often surpass manufacturers. Despite this, Smil argues that manufacturing remains a cornerstone of a robust economy due to its capacity to provide high-paying jobs, a benefit that service sectors often cannot match. For example, Toyota employed around 370,000 people in 2019, significantly more than Facebook’s 43,000 employees. This job creation underscores the ongoing importance of manufacturing in national economies. Smil further explores how established manufacturing powers like China, the US, Japan, and Germany vary in their reliance on manufacturing. While China's economy is heavily dependent on manufacturing (29% of GDP), the US relies on it to a lesser extent (12%). Ireland’s case is particularly interesting; its strategic use of low corporate taxes has transformed it into a manufacturing powerhouse, surpassing established giants like Switzerland in per capita manufacturing value.
In this evolving economic landscape, Smil prompts a broader reflection on the stability of empires throughout history. An analysis of historical empires reveals an average lifespan of about 220 years, with a notable decline in longevity after 1000 BCE. Case studies of various empires, including China, Spain, and Britain, show that even the most expansive empires eventually faced decline. The rapid dissolution of the Soviet empire exemplifies this trend. Short-lived empires such as Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan further illustrate the challenges of maintaining control over vast territories. The concept of an American empire is critically examined, with its inconclusive military interventions and diminishing global economic dominance suggesting a shift. The author concludes that historical lessons are pertinent for contemporary powers like China. The current expansionist policies in regions like Tibet and Xinjiang might not lead to long-term success, reinforcing that enduring influence relies more on genuine alliances than on forceful control.
Furthermore, while investigating the impact of past innovations on contemporary life, Smil challenges the notion that the late 20th and early 21st centuries represent the pinnacle of invention. Instead, the 1880s are argued to hold a stronger claim to this title. While microprocessors and radio waves, pivotal in modern technology, are undeniably transformative, they are built upon foundational discoveries from a century earlier: electricity and internal combustion engines. The author posits that electricity alone, even without the miniaturization afforded by microchips, could sustain a well-developed society. Conversely, the digital world, reliant on microchips, is wholly dependent on the electricity generated by methods pioneered in the 1880s, such as hydropower and thermal power, which still provide over 80% of the world’s electricity. Additionally, innovations like gasoline engines by Karl Benz, Wilhelm Maybach, and Gottlieb Daimler, and Rudolf Diesel’s diesel engine, revolutionized transportation industry. Heinrich Hertz’s experiments in the 1880s confirmed the existence of electromagnetic waves, leading to the wireless technologies we use today. Everyday items such as electric irons, deodorant, and Coca-Cola trace their origins back to this remarkable decade. The author concludes by noting a critical gap in public awareness—despite our fascination with digital advances, the profound impact of the 1880s' innovations remains largely unappreciated. These foundational advancements continue to shape our world in significant ways, even if their origins are not widely recognized.
In contrast to the profound impact of these foundational innovations, the concept of Moore’s Law introduces a different perspective on technological progress. Articulated by Gordon Moore in 1965, Moore’s Law predicted that the complexity of semiconductor components would double approximately every two years, reflecting rapid advancements in electronics. This exponential growth has revolutionized industries by making technology smaller, faster, and cheaper. However, this rapid progress in microchips creates an unrealistic expectation for general technological advancement. While Moore’s Law has driven remarkable strides in electronics, many other fields do not progress at the same pace. The author argues that advancements in fundamental areas such as food production, energy generation, and transportation exhibit a far more modest trajectory, typically ranging from 1.5% to 3% annually. Examples such as corn yields (2% annual increase) and steam turbine efficiency (1.5% annual increase) highlight the stark contrast between the blistering pace of Moore's Law and the more measured progress in essential industries. This phenomenon, termed "Moore's Curse," fosters unrealistic expectations for technological breakthroughs. Our visions of self-driving cars and 3D-printed organs, while not inconceivable, may be hindered by the sluggish progress in underlying technologies. Thus, the overall pace of technological progress outside the realm of microelectronics is governed by different factors, underscoring that Moore's Law does not universally apply.
On the other hand, the explosive growth of data storage presents its own set of challenges. From ancient clay tablets to today's zettabyte-scale data production, information is accumulating at an unprecedented rate. While the printing press once revolutionized information storage, digital technologies have surpassed even printed materials in scale. Smil raises critical questions about managing this data deluge: With only a fraction of data being realistically storable, what criteria should guide data selection? Furthermore, how long should preserved data remain relevant? As we approach the era of yottabytes of data, the challenge extends beyond storage to the ability to differentiate between raw data, usable information, and valuable knowledge. The capacity to transform this ever-growing data into meaningful insights becomes crucial, lest it become an overwhelming burden even for sophisticated machines. Thus, just as Moore’s Law highlights differing rates of progress across fields, the data deluge emphasizes the need for effective management and utilization strategies in an age of information abundance.
Smil also highlights the issue of resource dependence which manifests in our pursuit of renewable energy sources. Wind turbines, often celebrated as symbols of green technology, rely heavily on fossil fuels for their construction and operation. Building a wind turbine requires substantial amounts of steel and plastic, which are energy-intensive to produce. The production of turbine blades involves materials like glass-fiber-reinforced composites, created using natural gas and other hydrocarbons. From raw material extraction to transportation and manufacturing, the entire supply chain for wind turbines depends on diesel fuel, natural gas, and coal. While a wind turbine can generate more energy over its lifetime than it took to produce, its entire lifecycle remains critically tied to fossil fuels. The takeaway? For the foreseeable future, our transition to renewable energy sources like wind power remains tethered to the very fossil fuels we are aiming to replace.
This interdependence on fossil fuels is not unique to wind turbines. The evolution of photovoltaic (PV) technology illustrates a similar problem. Initially, the high cost of PV cells—$300 per watt in the 1950s—limited their practical applications. However, technological advancements and increased production efficiency have drastically reduced costs to as little as 8–12 cents per watt, in 2019. This significant price drop has enabled widespread use, from powering satellites to generating electricity for homes and large solar fields. Despite this progress, PV technology accounted for only 2.2% of global electricity generation by 2018. One reason PV technology trails behind hydroelectric power is its inherent intermittency. Solar energy production relies on sunlight, which varies with time of day, weather, and location, leading to fluctuations in electricity generation. In contrast, hydroelectric facilities provide a stable and continuous power supply, as they harness the consistent flow of water, making them more reliable for base-load electricity generation. Additionally, hydroelectric power benefits from established infrastructure and decades of development, while PV technology, though advancing rapidly, still requires substantial space and investment for large-scale deployment. These factors contribute to PV's slower progress compared to hydroelectric power, highlighting the complex and gradual nature of global energy transitions and the ongoing reliance on fossil fuels within renewable energy technologies.
Similarly, the quest for zero-emission container ships faces a formidable challenge. The allure of electric container ships is undeniable, but the technology is currently hindered by battery limitations. While electric locomotives and cars have made significant strides, scaling these technologies to meet the energy needs of large container ships presents a significant obstacle. To elabore, Smil takes the example of Yara Birkeland, the world’s first electric and autonomous container ship, scheduled to operate in 2020. With a capacity of only 120 TEUs and a maximum speed of 6 knots, it pales in comparison to the diesel-powered giants of today, such as those operated by MSC, which can carry over 23,000 TEUs, travel at speeds of 16 knots, and cover distances exceeding 21,000 kilometers in a month. The crux of the problem lies in energy density: diesel fuel boasts an energy density of about 11,700 watt-hours per kilogram, whereas current lithium-ion batteries offer only 300 W-hr/kg. To match the energy needs of a large container ship, batteries would need to be ten times as energy-dense as today’s best, presenting a significant technological and scalability challenge. Thus, while the Yara Birkeland represents a pioneering step in maritime technology, achieving large-scale electric container ships will require substantial breakthroughs in battery technology to address these significant energy and capacity challenges.
These challenges reflects a broader trend observed in energy transitions, which have historically been slow and incremental. For example, in 1800, coal usage was limited, with biomass fuels—such as wood, charcoal, straw, and dung—dominating. By 1900, coal, oil, and gas began to gain traction, yet biomass still accounted for half of the world’s energy supply. Fast forward to the early 21st century, and biomass's share had dwindled to 12%, although it remains vital in some underdeveloped regions. Today, we face the daunting task of decarbonizing global energy to combat climate change. Despite advancements in renewable energy sources like wind and solar, progress remains sluggish. In 1992, fossil fuels constituted 86.6% of global energy; by 2017, this had only decreased slightly to 85.1%. Renewable sources, despite their growth, contributed only 4.5% of global electricity by 2017, partly due to their limited role in overall energy consumption. Transitioning from fossil fuels involves not only expanding renewable energy but also addressing the deep reliance of key sectors—such as transportation, industrial production, and heating—on fossil fuels, with few viable alternatives. This complex transition will require decades of sustained effort.
On that note, Smil underscores often overlooked difficulties in achieving meaningful reductions in carbon emissions. One area where this challenge is particularly evident is in the automotive sector. Modern cars, despite advances in engine efficiency, have a troubling weight-to-payload ratio. A century ago, the Ford Model T achieved impressive efficiency, but today's average car engine, though more powerful, struggles with weight issues. Over the last 100 years, average engine power has increased elevenfold, but vehicle weight has roughly tripled, reaching over 1,800 kilograms. This results in a poor weight-to-payload ratio, especially in the U.S., where many commuters drive alone. The contrast is stark when comparing cars to other modes of transportation. For example, a bicycle has a weight ratio of 0.1, while the average American light-duty vehicle in 2013 had a ratio of 26. Despite efforts to reduce vehicle weight using advanced materials, modern cars are still heavy due to added features and increasing size. Hybrid and electric vehicles, while efficient in other ways, do not alleviate the weight issue. The key problem is not just vehicle weight but the low occupancy rate. With nearly three-quarters of U.S. commuters driving alone, the ratio of vehicle weight to passenger is inefficient. Unlike in Europe or Japan, where car sizes are smaller and commutes are shared more, the U.S. faces challenges in improving this ratio, leading to a situation where modern vehicles, despite technological advances, exhibit some of the worst weight-to-payload ratios in personal transportation history.
Smil argues, even electric vehicles (EVs) which are often hailed as a breakthrough in reducing greenhouse gas emissions and combating climate change, offer underwhelming relief. He asserts, their real-world effectiveness may fall short of idealized expectations. For instance, despite Deutsche Bank's 2010 forecast predicting an 11% global market share for EVs by 2020, the actual figure remained under 4%. Future projections vary widely, reflecting both hopeful speculation and market uncertainty. Moreover, the environmental benefits of EVs heavily depend on the source of electricity used for charging. As of 2020, over 60% of global electricity is generated from fossil fuels, meaning that in regions reliant on coal or oil, EVs might inadvertently contribute to increased emissions. While countries like Norway and Canada benefit from hydroelectric power for EV related electricity consumption, others, such as India and Poland, still depend largely on coal, reducing the potential environmental gains of EVs. Additionally, the production of EVs incurs significant environmental costs, with estimates indicating that manufacturing an EV produces three times the toxicity of a conventional vehicle due to the use of heavy metals and other factors. Therefore, while EVs hold promise, a complete understanding of their environmental impact is crucial before fully embracing their potential.
In comparison, when evaluating energy efficiency across transportation modes, intercity high-speed trains present a more consistently positive case. High-speed trains, such as Japan's shinkansen and France's TGV, exhibit impressive energy efficiency with energy intensity figures of 0.2–0.35 megajoules per passenger-kilometer (MJ/pkm). This is an order of magnitude lower than jet airliners, which average around 2 MJ/pkm, and significantly more efficient than cars, which range from 1 to 2 MJ/pkm depending on occupancy. High-speed trains also offer superior travel times compared to air travel when considering the entire journey, including airport journeys and procedures. Despite their efficiency and speed, high-speed trains are underutilized in countries like the US and Canada, which lack extensive networks. In contrast, Europe and China have embraced rapid train transportation, with China boasting the world's longest high-speed rail network. Thus, while EVs have potential benefits, high-speed trains provide a proven, energy-efficient alternative for intercity travel, highlighting the diverse approaches needed to address transportation's environmental impact.
Smil also pleads our attention for issues related to food. He once again mentions synthetic ammonia, which has played a transformative role in agriculture and food production. Introduced by Fritz Haber in 1909, the Haber-Bosch process enabled the mass production of nitrogen fertilizers, significantly increasing crop yields and revolutionizing agriculture. Before synthetic ammonia, farmers relied on traditional methods such as recycling organic materials and crop rotation with leguminous plants to supply nitrogen, a critical macronutrient for crops. These methods, though effective, could not meet the growing food demands of a rapidly expanding population. Today, synthetic fertilizers provide about half of the nitrogen required for global crops, supporting the nutritional needs of billions. However, Smil warns that the widespread use of synthetic ammonia has environmental drawbacks. The production process is energy-intensive, relying on natural gas and contributing to greenhouse gas emissions. Additionally, inefficiencies in nitrogen use lead to significant environmental issues, including water contamination, soil degradation, and increased greenhouse gases like nitrous oxide. As the world’s population continues to grow, especially in Africa, improving fertilizer efficiency and reducing environmental impacts are crucial.
Smil also highlights the issue of resource dependence which manifests in our pursuit of renewable energy sources. Wind turbines, often celebrated as symbols of green technology, rely heavily on fossil fuels for their construction and operation. Building a wind turbine requires substantial amounts of steel and plastic, which are energy-intensive to produce. The production of turbine blades involves materials like glass-fiber-reinforced composites, created using natural gas and other hydrocarbons. From raw material extraction to transportation and manufacturing, the entire supply chain for wind turbines depends on diesel fuel, natural gas, and coal. While a wind turbine can generate more energy over its lifetime than it took to produce, its entire lifecycle remains critically tied to fossil fuels. The takeaway? For the foreseeable future, our transition to renewable energy sources like wind power remains tethered to the very fossil fuels we are aiming to replace.
This interdependence on fossil fuels is not unique to wind turbines. The evolution of photovoltaic (PV) technology illustrates a similar problem. Initially, the high cost of PV cells—$300 per watt in the 1950s—limited their practical applications. However, technological advancements and increased production efficiency have drastically reduced costs to as little as 8–12 cents per watt, in 2019. This significant price drop has enabled widespread use, from powering satellites to generating electricity for homes and large solar fields. Despite this progress, PV technology accounted for only 2.2% of global electricity generation by 2018. One reason PV technology trails behind hydroelectric power is its inherent intermittency. Solar energy production relies on sunlight, which varies with time of day, weather, and location, leading to fluctuations in electricity generation. In contrast, hydroelectric facilities provide a stable and continuous power supply, as they harness the consistent flow of water, making them more reliable for base-load electricity generation. Additionally, hydroelectric power benefits from established infrastructure and decades of development, while PV technology, though advancing rapidly, still requires substantial space and investment for large-scale deployment. These factors contribute to PV's slower progress compared to hydroelectric power, highlighting the complex and gradual nature of global energy transitions and the ongoing reliance on fossil fuels within renewable energy technologies.
Similarly, the quest for zero-emission container ships faces a formidable challenge. The allure of electric container ships is undeniable, but the technology is currently hindered by battery limitations. While electric locomotives and cars have made significant strides, scaling these technologies to meet the energy needs of large container ships presents a significant obstacle. To elabore, Smil takes the example of Yara Birkeland, the world’s first electric and autonomous container ship, scheduled to operate in 2020. With a capacity of only 120 TEUs and a maximum speed of 6 knots, it pales in comparison to the diesel-powered giants of today, such as those operated by MSC, which can carry over 23,000 TEUs, travel at speeds of 16 knots, and cover distances exceeding 21,000 kilometers in a month. The crux of the problem lies in energy density: diesel fuel boasts an energy density of about 11,700 watt-hours per kilogram, whereas current lithium-ion batteries offer only 300 W-hr/kg. To match the energy needs of a large container ship, batteries would need to be ten times as energy-dense as today’s best, presenting a significant technological and scalability challenge. Thus, while the Yara Birkeland represents a pioneering step in maritime technology, achieving large-scale electric container ships will require substantial breakthroughs in battery technology to address these significant energy and capacity challenges.
These challenges reflects a broader trend observed in energy transitions, which have historically been slow and incremental. For example, in 1800, coal usage was limited, with biomass fuels—such as wood, charcoal, straw, and dung—dominating. By 1900, coal, oil, and gas began to gain traction, yet biomass still accounted for half of the world’s energy supply. Fast forward to the early 21st century, and biomass's share had dwindled to 12%, although it remains vital in some underdeveloped regions. Today, we face the daunting task of decarbonizing global energy to combat climate change. Despite advancements in renewable energy sources like wind and solar, progress remains sluggish. In 1992, fossil fuels constituted 86.6% of global energy; by 2017, this had only decreased slightly to 85.1%. Renewable sources, despite their growth, contributed only 4.5% of global electricity by 2017, partly due to their limited role in overall energy consumption. Transitioning from fossil fuels involves not only expanding renewable energy but also addressing the deep reliance of key sectors—such as transportation, industrial production, and heating—on fossil fuels, with few viable alternatives. This complex transition will require decades of sustained effort.
On that note, Smil underscores often overlooked difficulties in achieving meaningful reductions in carbon emissions. One area where this challenge is particularly evident is in the automotive sector. Modern cars, despite advances in engine efficiency, have a troubling weight-to-payload ratio. A century ago, the Ford Model T achieved impressive efficiency, but today's average car engine, though more powerful, struggles with weight issues. Over the last 100 years, average engine power has increased elevenfold, but vehicle weight has roughly tripled, reaching over 1,800 kilograms. This results in a poor weight-to-payload ratio, especially in the U.S., where many commuters drive alone. The contrast is stark when comparing cars to other modes of transportation. For example, a bicycle has a weight ratio of 0.1, while the average American light-duty vehicle in 2013 had a ratio of 26. Despite efforts to reduce vehicle weight using advanced materials, modern cars are still heavy due to added features and increasing size. Hybrid and electric vehicles, while efficient in other ways, do not alleviate the weight issue. The key problem is not just vehicle weight but the low occupancy rate. With nearly three-quarters of U.S. commuters driving alone, the ratio of vehicle weight to passenger is inefficient. Unlike in Europe or Japan, where car sizes are smaller and commutes are shared more, the U.S. faces challenges in improving this ratio, leading to a situation where modern vehicles, despite technological advances, exhibit some of the worst weight-to-payload ratios in personal transportation history.
Smil argues, even electric vehicles (EVs) which are often hailed as a breakthrough in reducing greenhouse gas emissions and combating climate change, offer underwhelming relief. He asserts, their real-world effectiveness may fall short of idealized expectations. For instance, despite Deutsche Bank's 2010 forecast predicting an 11% global market share for EVs by 2020, the actual figure remained under 4%. Future projections vary widely, reflecting both hopeful speculation and market uncertainty. Moreover, the environmental benefits of EVs heavily depend on the source of electricity used for charging. As of 2020, over 60% of global electricity is generated from fossil fuels, meaning that in regions reliant on coal or oil, EVs might inadvertently contribute to increased emissions. While countries like Norway and Canada benefit from hydroelectric power for EV related electricity consumption, others, such as India and Poland, still depend largely on coal, reducing the potential environmental gains of EVs. Additionally, the production of EVs incurs significant environmental costs, with estimates indicating that manufacturing an EV produces three times the toxicity of a conventional vehicle due to the use of heavy metals and other factors. Therefore, while EVs hold promise, a complete understanding of their environmental impact is crucial before fully embracing their potential.
In comparison, when evaluating energy efficiency across transportation modes, intercity high-speed trains present a more consistently positive case. High-speed trains, such as Japan's shinkansen and France's TGV, exhibit impressive energy efficiency with energy intensity figures of 0.2–0.35 megajoules per passenger-kilometer (MJ/pkm). This is an order of magnitude lower than jet airliners, which average around 2 MJ/pkm, and significantly more efficient than cars, which range from 1 to 2 MJ/pkm depending on occupancy. High-speed trains also offer superior travel times compared to air travel when considering the entire journey, including airport journeys and procedures. Despite their efficiency and speed, high-speed trains are underutilized in countries like the US and Canada, which lack extensive networks. In contrast, Europe and China have embraced rapid train transportation, with China boasting the world's longest high-speed rail network. Thus, while EVs have potential benefits, high-speed trains provide a proven, energy-efficient alternative for intercity travel, highlighting the diverse approaches needed to address transportation's environmental impact.
Smil also pleads our attention for issues related to food. He once again mentions synthetic ammonia, which has played a transformative role in agriculture and food production. Introduced by Fritz Haber in 1909, the Haber-Bosch process enabled the mass production of nitrogen fertilizers, significantly increasing crop yields and revolutionizing agriculture. Before synthetic ammonia, farmers relied on traditional methods such as recycling organic materials and crop rotation with leguminous plants to supply nitrogen, a critical macronutrient for crops. These methods, though effective, could not meet the growing food demands of a rapidly expanding population. Today, synthetic fertilizers provide about half of the nitrogen required for global crops, supporting the nutritional needs of billions. However, Smil warns that the widespread use of synthetic ammonia has environmental drawbacks. The production process is energy-intensive, relying on natural gas and contributing to greenhouse gas emissions. Additionally, inefficiencies in nitrogen use lead to significant environmental issues, including water contamination, soil degradation, and increased greenhouse gases like nitrous oxide. As the world’s population continues to grow, especially in Africa, improving fertilizer efficiency and reducing environmental impacts are crucial.
Smil brings us to another critical issue intertwined with food production: food wastage. Global food waste is staggering, with up to one-third of all harvested food being discarded annually. This problem is multifaceted. In poorer regions, inadequate storage and lack of refrigeration lead to significant pre-consumer waste. In wealthier countries, overproduction and consumer habits drive waste, with Americans, for instance, wasting 40% of their food supply. The implications are severe. Not only does food waste represent a colossal loss of nutrition, but it also squanders the labor, energy, and resources used in production. The environmental impact is significant, contributing up to 10% of global greenhouse gas emissions and causing ecological damage through soil erosion and biodiversity loss. Reducing food waste offers a tangible way to address global food security and environmental concerns. WRAP, a UK organization, estimates that halving food waste could yield a 14-fold return on investment. Addressing this issue requires a shift in both production and consumption practices to foster a more sustainable and equitable global food system.
A parallel concern in the realm of food production is the rise in the popularity of certain types of meat, notably chicken. Chicken has surged in popularity in the United States, surpassing beef as the dominant meat by 2018. While the shift began partly due to dietary concerns over cholesterol and saturated fat, the primary driver has been chicken's lower cost. This price advantage stems from the bird's exceptional feed-to-meat conversion efficiency. Modern broilers convert feed to meat much more efficiently than pigs or cattle, with recent data showing that it takes only 1.7 units of feed to produce a unit of broiler live weight, compared to nearly 12 units for cattle. Advances in breeding have further boosted chicken production. Broilers are now raised to mature faster and weigh more, from an average of 1.1 kilograms in 1925 to nearly 2.7 kilograms in 2018, with a shortened feeding span from 112 days to 47 days. However, these efficiencies come at a cost to the birds, who suffer from confinement and rapid growth that affects their health and well-being. They are slaughtered at a fraction of their natural lifespan and endure limitations on movement due to their rapid weight gain. Globally, chicken’s dominance is still emerging, with pork leading in many regions and beef remaining popular in South America. Nonetheless, the trend towards mass-produced, cost-efficient chicken suggests it will likely become the world's leading meat soon.
While the shift in meat consumption patterns underscores the industrial efficiencies in food production, another perspective on dietary habits of the Japanese reveals a different approach to health and longevity. Despite the stresses of modern life, Japan boasts the highest life expectancy globally. While genetic factors and religious beliefs have been explored as potential explanations, they fall short of accounting for Japan's longevity. Instead, the key may lie in their diet and lifestyle. Japanese diets are notably plant-based compared to those in Western countries. Only 20% of dietary energy in Japan comes from animal products, whereas France and the US rely on animal-derived foods for 35% and 27% of their energy, respectively. Moreover, Japanese consumption of dietary fats and sugars is significantly lower than in the US and France, which contributes to reduced health risks and longer lifespans. The most crucial factor, however, appears to be Japan's moderate food consumption. The average daily food availability in Japan is around 2,700 kilocalories per capita, considerably lower than the 3,400–4,000 kilocalories available in many affluent Western nations. Actual consumption averages about 1,900 kilocalories per day, aligning with the Confucian principle of "hara hachi bun me"—eat until you are 80% full. This practice of moderation, ingrained in Japanese culture, is likely a primary reason for the country’s exceptional longevity.
In one of the final chapters, Smil juxtaposes the natural world with human innovation. While the exact number of species on Earth remains elusive, estimates suggest millions. This author argues that humankind's creations rival, and perhaps even surpass, nature's diversity. The author proposes a classification system for human-made objects, mirroring the biological taxonomy. Cell phones alone, with thousands of distinct models across various brands, outnumber known mammal species. Similarly, the vast array of screw designs, each with variations in material, type, head style, and size, dwarfs the diversity of rodents. Smil points out that, beyond sheer numbers, human creations boast a wider range in mass. Cell phone motors mimic the weight of the smallest mammal, while massive industrial compressors far exceed the weight of the largest elephant. Drones surpass birds in their miniaturization, while airplanes leave the mightiest condors in the dust. The author concludes by highlighting a key advantage of human designs: their independence. Unlike living organisms reliant on complex ecosystems, our creations can exist and function without external biological support.
Smil nerdily demonstrates his numerical findings that represent the astonishing terrestrial dominance of just two vertebrate species: cows (Bos taurus) and humans (Homo sapiens). While bacteria, archaea, and insects make up the bulk of Earth's biomass due to their sheer numbers and adaptability, large macroscopic life forms present a different picture. In 2020, the global cattle population, estimated at 1.5 billion, weighed approximately 600 million tons, surpassing the combined mass of all humans. With a global anthropomass of about 390 million tons, humans are outnumbered by cattle in terms of mass. This imbalance highlights the extensive role of cattle in agriculture and meat production, as well as the impact of domesticated animals on the environment. Despite their relatively small size compared to wild mammals, such as elephants, whose total mass is less than 1 million tons, cattle's overwhelming presence illustrates their significant role in the Earth's biosphere. By 2050, the combined mass of humans and cattle is expected to increase further, with cattle likely reaching 2 billion. This growing dominance reflects the profound influence these species have on the earth's ecology and resource distribution.
Lastly, Smil leads to a broader discussion on the concept of the Anthropocene—a proposed new geological epoch characterized by significant human impact on Earth—which has garnered increasing attention. In May 2019, the Anthropocene Working Group voted to recognize this era, and the proposal awaits review (rejected as of July, 2024) by the International Commission on Stratigraphy. However, the author argues that this designation may be premature. Human activities undeniably affect global biogeochemical cycles, biodiversity, and environmental stability. From pollution and deforestation to climate change, our impact is substantial and potentially perilous. Yet, our control over Earth's fundamental processes remains limited. For instance, we cannot influence solar radiation, Earth's orbital mechanics, or tectonic movements. These natural forces, including volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, operate on scales far beyond human influence and could drastically alter our environment. Moreover, the Earth's geological history, marked by epochs lasting millions of years, contrasts sharply with the brief span of human civilization. The Holocene epoch, for instance, began only 11,700 years ago. While acknowledging human impact, the author urges us to maintain perspective on the grand scale of geological time. Only after a longer period can we truly assess whether humanity has ushered in a new epoch.
Beyond these areas, Smil's analysis extends to encompass global trends in human height, the logistics behind the construction of the Great Pyramid, the rise of megacities and their potential challenges and opportunities, the European Union's prospects in the wake of Brexit, the societal and economic transformations wrought by groundbreaking inventions such as the bicycle, concrete, transformers, the phonograph, and photography, as well as other factors affecting the carbon footprint, to name a few.
In conclusion, Smil offers a comprehensive understanding of the forces shaping our world by emphasizing the need to examine data from both deeper and broader perspectives. As he notes, data and statistics are valuable tools but even the most reliable and accurate numbers must be interpreted within a wider context. To make informed judgments about absolute values, it is essential to incorporate relative and comparative perspectives.
A parallel concern in the realm of food production is the rise in the popularity of certain types of meat, notably chicken. Chicken has surged in popularity in the United States, surpassing beef as the dominant meat by 2018. While the shift began partly due to dietary concerns over cholesterol and saturated fat, the primary driver has been chicken's lower cost. This price advantage stems from the bird's exceptional feed-to-meat conversion efficiency. Modern broilers convert feed to meat much more efficiently than pigs or cattle, with recent data showing that it takes only 1.7 units of feed to produce a unit of broiler live weight, compared to nearly 12 units for cattle. Advances in breeding have further boosted chicken production. Broilers are now raised to mature faster and weigh more, from an average of 1.1 kilograms in 1925 to nearly 2.7 kilograms in 2018, with a shortened feeding span from 112 days to 47 days. However, these efficiencies come at a cost to the birds, who suffer from confinement and rapid growth that affects their health and well-being. They are slaughtered at a fraction of their natural lifespan and endure limitations on movement due to their rapid weight gain. Globally, chicken’s dominance is still emerging, with pork leading in many regions and beef remaining popular in South America. Nonetheless, the trend towards mass-produced, cost-efficient chicken suggests it will likely become the world's leading meat soon.
While the shift in meat consumption patterns underscores the industrial efficiencies in food production, another perspective on dietary habits of the Japanese reveals a different approach to health and longevity. Despite the stresses of modern life, Japan boasts the highest life expectancy globally. While genetic factors and religious beliefs have been explored as potential explanations, they fall short of accounting for Japan's longevity. Instead, the key may lie in their diet and lifestyle. Japanese diets are notably plant-based compared to those in Western countries. Only 20% of dietary energy in Japan comes from animal products, whereas France and the US rely on animal-derived foods for 35% and 27% of their energy, respectively. Moreover, Japanese consumption of dietary fats and sugars is significantly lower than in the US and France, which contributes to reduced health risks and longer lifespans. The most crucial factor, however, appears to be Japan's moderate food consumption. The average daily food availability in Japan is around 2,700 kilocalories per capita, considerably lower than the 3,400–4,000 kilocalories available in many affluent Western nations. Actual consumption averages about 1,900 kilocalories per day, aligning with the Confucian principle of "hara hachi bun me"—eat until you are 80% full. This practice of moderation, ingrained in Japanese culture, is likely a primary reason for the country’s exceptional longevity.
In one of the final chapters, Smil juxtaposes the natural world with human innovation. While the exact number of species on Earth remains elusive, estimates suggest millions. This author argues that humankind's creations rival, and perhaps even surpass, nature's diversity. The author proposes a classification system for human-made objects, mirroring the biological taxonomy. Cell phones alone, with thousands of distinct models across various brands, outnumber known mammal species. Similarly, the vast array of screw designs, each with variations in material, type, head style, and size, dwarfs the diversity of rodents. Smil points out that, beyond sheer numbers, human creations boast a wider range in mass. Cell phone motors mimic the weight of the smallest mammal, while massive industrial compressors far exceed the weight of the largest elephant. Drones surpass birds in their miniaturization, while airplanes leave the mightiest condors in the dust. The author concludes by highlighting a key advantage of human designs: their independence. Unlike living organisms reliant on complex ecosystems, our creations can exist and function without external biological support.
Smil nerdily demonstrates his numerical findings that represent the astonishing terrestrial dominance of just two vertebrate species: cows (Bos taurus) and humans (Homo sapiens). While bacteria, archaea, and insects make up the bulk of Earth's biomass due to their sheer numbers and adaptability, large macroscopic life forms present a different picture. In 2020, the global cattle population, estimated at 1.5 billion, weighed approximately 600 million tons, surpassing the combined mass of all humans. With a global anthropomass of about 390 million tons, humans are outnumbered by cattle in terms of mass. This imbalance highlights the extensive role of cattle in agriculture and meat production, as well as the impact of domesticated animals on the environment. Despite their relatively small size compared to wild mammals, such as elephants, whose total mass is less than 1 million tons, cattle's overwhelming presence illustrates their significant role in the Earth's biosphere. By 2050, the combined mass of humans and cattle is expected to increase further, with cattle likely reaching 2 billion. This growing dominance reflects the profound influence these species have on the earth's ecology and resource distribution.
Lastly, Smil leads to a broader discussion on the concept of the Anthropocene—a proposed new geological epoch characterized by significant human impact on Earth—which has garnered increasing attention. In May 2019, the Anthropocene Working Group voted to recognize this era, and the proposal awaits review (rejected as of July, 2024) by the International Commission on Stratigraphy. However, the author argues that this designation may be premature. Human activities undeniably affect global biogeochemical cycles, biodiversity, and environmental stability. From pollution and deforestation to climate change, our impact is substantial and potentially perilous. Yet, our control over Earth's fundamental processes remains limited. For instance, we cannot influence solar radiation, Earth's orbital mechanics, or tectonic movements. These natural forces, including volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, operate on scales far beyond human influence and could drastically alter our environment. Moreover, the Earth's geological history, marked by epochs lasting millions of years, contrasts sharply with the brief span of human civilization. The Holocene epoch, for instance, began only 11,700 years ago. While acknowledging human impact, the author urges us to maintain perspective on the grand scale of geological time. Only after a longer period can we truly assess whether humanity has ushered in a new epoch.
Beyond these areas, Smil's analysis extends to encompass global trends in human height, the logistics behind the construction of the Great Pyramid, the rise of megacities and their potential challenges and opportunities, the European Union's prospects in the wake of Brexit, the societal and economic transformations wrought by groundbreaking inventions such as the bicycle, concrete, transformers, the phonograph, and photography, as well as other factors affecting the carbon footprint, to name a few.
In conclusion, Smil offers a comprehensive understanding of the forces shaping our world by emphasizing the need to examine data from both deeper and broader perspectives. As he notes, data and statistics are valuable tools but even the most reliable and accurate numbers must be interpreted within a wider context. To make informed judgments about absolute values, it is essential to incorporate relative and comparative perspectives.
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