Why is it strange to compare our responses to the Turkey/Syria earthquake and climate change?
Feeling uncomfortable already?
Does putting the gut-wrenching Turkey-Syria earthquake and climate change in the same headline feel distasteful?
For those of us fortunate enough not to directly experience the direct impact of either earthquakes or global heating, the visceral horror of Turkey and Syria today can make juxtaposing it with our ongoing climate crisis feel wrong. Trivial, even disrespectful.
Seismic events and The Greenhouse Effect feel like different things. Comparing chalk and cheese when there’s blanket coverage of chalk may explain why mentioning the wrong thing feels like a cheesy distraction. For most of us, the urgent, real-world living nightmare we see on the news occupies a different category of experience from the ephemeral world of online climate tit-for-tat.
Does conjuring up images of pavement tents and keyboard warrior memes in the same sentence feel like ‘politicising’ human misery? Even for those who see a connection, doing so may feel ‘too soon’. We still don’t even know the death toll, only that many tens of thousands more will die in the unimaginably terrifying aftermath of the temblors. We don’t even yet know what to call it. The Turkey Earthquake? The Kahramanmaras Earthquake? The Turkey-Syria Earthquake? The Turkey-Syria Earthquakes?
Our struggle to even put a name to our shock demonstrates how, despite modern technological wizardry, seismic events remain profoundly humbling for humans, how irrelevant out political boundaries are to planetary physics.
Anyone who’s experienced a tremor standing outside, rather than in a swaying building, knows how literally upsetting earthquakes are. From infancy, we learn there’s proverbially nothing more secure and solid than ‘the ground beneath our feet’. When that earth shifts and we clutch for support like toddlers reaching for parents’ arms, our whole world view is also knocked off balance.
Less metaphorically, our physical infrastructure is just as vulnerable. If the earth on which they’re built rips asunder, state-of-the-art data centres, skyscrapers or presidential palaces become rubble within seconds. Comparing this scale of human misery to a political hot potato feels crass and insensitive.
This article isn’t about the physical cause-and-effect operating between seismic and atmospheric physics. Climate change may have some small influence on earthquake timing and intensity, especially when water tables are affected, and earthquakes have some minor impact on human carbon emissions.
But this article is making a different point.
Natural and unnatural causes
The obvious difference is that earthquakes are natural disasters, while climate change is an unnatural one. The cause of one is entirely outside our control, the other’s entirely within our control.
The discombobulation we feel at comparing earthquakes and climate change may be because we focus on their consequences, rather than their causes. This makes bureaucratic sense. The politics and logistics of ‘disaster relief’ are the same for earthquakes and tsunamis and human-created disasters like famine, fire, flood or Fukushima. The same human misery requires the same grim mitigation: rescue teams, tents, bottled water, blankets, and temporary housing.
Look at the similar outcomes, and no wonder drawing attention to different causes feels wrong. Consider that one disaster is inevitable, the other not, and the question becomes more reasonable.
Every living thing that’s ever existed on this planet has had to deal with natural phenomena. Humans mitigating the inevitable damage from seismic movement is no different from stegosauruses dealing with asteroid impact. Or any living thing dealing with the natural variations on atmospheric gases, temperatures and magnetic flips that have always taken place – over long time periods.
Dealing with natural disasters is horrible, every time. Things always go wrong and we could always do better. The dinosaurs were doing absolutely fine for hundreds of millions of years, until they came across a natural event so extreme and sudden it eclipsed their ability to adapt through evolution. Homo sapiens may only have been around for the blink of a brontosaurus eye, but has already survived many such disasters.
Our current climate crisis, however, is an entirely man-made problem, created in less than the lifespan of a single giant tortoise, that risks destroying the entire edifice of human civilisation.
Seen in this context, is it starting to sound a little less strange to question why we expend so much time, energy, attention and resources to a problem we can do little about, when we’re doing so little to address a much bigger threat of our own making, the mitigation of which lies in our power?
This is not meant to be a rhetorical question. We can answer this for ourselves as individuals, but as individuals we feel powerless to do anything about it. Temporary enthusiasm for composting your kitchen waste, or going easy on the burgers can quickly evaporate when you read about oil companies announcing they’re investing record profits into new fossil fuel investments, and throttling back on investment in renewable energy.
So this article examines the issue, sympathetically, from the perspective of those who govern us and set the rules.
First, if might help to take a brief look at how we dealt with earthquakes before we understood them properly.
Humans, history, science and earthquakes
When it comes to tectonic movement, our evolved ‘common sense’ hasn’t been much help.
Day to day, we experience no useful analogy for geology’s glacial pace. It’s why, until we worked out tectonic plate theory, we attributed earthquakes to gods, dragons and demons. They were, quite literally, ‘supernatural’ events.
With each advance in our scientific understanding of the world, the metaphorical impact of literal seismic events increased. As reason prised explaining ‘Acts of God’ from religion’s grip, we sought less glib explanations than ‘God’s will’. We wanted to understand, so that we could act to prevent unnecessary suffering.
Many quakes have released more energy than the 1755 Great Lisbon Earthquake , but few have had such powerful cultural aftershocks. Arriving just as the Age of Reason matured, The Great Lisbon Earthquake shook to destruction more than just the buildings of the Portuguese capital. It killed 20% percent of Lisbon’s population and destroyed 85% of its buildings, including churches and cathedrals. It also devastated the religious faith of many intellectuals and philosophers.
The earthquake’s indiscriminate destruction left them asking how God could permit such appalling human suffering? This was no distant fable involving Sodom and Gomorrah, this was a modern European capital, home to friends, relatives and colleagues known to be innocent. Individuals they knew to be undeserving of divine wrath for some imagined common depravity.
In Candide, published in 1759 when the Age of Reason was still reeling from the intellectual aftershocks of the Lisbon earthquake four years before, Voltaire wrestles with this dilemma. The novel’s eponymous naive hero, distressed by the priests’ dogmatic explanation that killing Portuguese babies must somehow have been God’s Will, asks his philosopher mentor Pangloss to explain how God could have sanctioned such horrors.
Pangloss’s reply dresses up religious dogma in flimsy sophistry. He explains it’s not for us to question why, because we live in ‘the best of all possible worlds’. This pat justification triggers Candide’s loss of faith in supernatural explanations of the real world. By the end of the novel, Candide has retired from the ‘civilised’ world, concluding that all he had hope to achieve is to ‘cultivate his garden‘.
Seismology and stupidity
People used to be really stupid, didn’t they?
As scientific discovery becomes absorbed into ‘common knowledge’, ancient wisdom turns into arrant nonsense. Young children can now mock as ‘silly’ beliefs once accepted as ‘common sense’. Our descendants will, hopefully, regard things we think we now take to be ‘obviously true’ in the same way. History’s fiendish plot twist is that while we know there are things we don’t know, we don’t yet know what these things are. They are known as ‘unknown unknowns’.
For the vast majority of human history, we relied on ‘common sense’ – empirical observations using current technology. We knew the earth was flat, and the sun revolved around the earth, because our own eyes told us so. We bled people in order to cure them from disease by ‘balancing our humours’, often referenced by our greatest dramatist, Shakespeare. Educated men passed on Aristotle’s deduction accounting for the mysterious absence of baby European eels – adult eels emerged spontaneously from the ground and had no genitals.
If that now seems comically wrong, it’s a good time to return to our historical understanding of earthquakes. As with so many relatively recent discoveries we’ve absorbed into our common culture, it’s easy to underestimate just how unobvious tectonic movement is.
Consider maps. Our smartest and most educated ancestors spent centuries looking at maps showing the bump of Brazil and the Gulf of Guinea, without drawing the ‘obvious’ conclusion that the two continental coastlines, now separated by thousands of miles of sea, were once physically linked. Today, the same maps are used to educate primary school children about the tectonic plate shifts that create earthquakes.
They might used puzzles to show how the tectonic plates fit together. This educational aid was invented, coincidentally, shortly after the Lisbon earthquake. A London cartographer came up with an educational toy for late 18th century geography lessons, which we now know as the jigsaw puzzle. It was created to teach children geography. It may now have been map engraver John Spilsbury’s intention, but these puzzles are evidence of man’s hubris in dividing the surface of our physical planet with our arbitrary, shifting political boundaries.
It took until 1915 for Alfred Wegener to publish his theory of ‘continental drift’ in his The Origin of Continents and Oceans for scientist to question the geology that moved and created the land masses themselves. Even then, the available technology made Wegener’s conclusions far from conclusive. Scientific consensus on tectonic theory was only reached in the 1960s.
In between, how many geographers taught their children about The Creation, while helping them solve jigsaw puzzles? It’s not that they were stupid, only that it takes time for scientists to make connections between different discoveries. Longer still for those discoveries to become ‘common knowledge’.
Even with plate tectonics in the bag, accepting the gradual separation of continents could account for other apparently unrelated ‘mysteries’, like the reproductive cycle of eels, has taken decades. Even now, we can’t conclusively prove why you never find mature eels in the Sargasso Sea, or immature ones in Europe, though we’re pretty sure Aristotle got it wrong, and it involves continental drift.
Seismic activity – like atmospheric physics – is simply not a mechanism that’s reflected in our daily ‘common sense’. It’s too complicated, and takes over too great a stretch of time and space for our ‘common sense’ to be of much help.
Ancestral wisdom about local weather patterns, flood control, wildfire prevention and agricultural cycles, have served us well up to now. It’s understandable why we’re so reluctant to abandon them, and accept different explanations, based on cutting-edge science we weren’t taught in school. We rightly respect the indigenous knowledge of the Inuit. It’s not their fault their hard-earned wisdom about hunting seals and whales is now useless because the sea ice has gone, and the whales are nearly extinct.
Earthquakes share this problem of planetary-scale time and space being out of synch with human lifespans. Geologically inactive periods between plate shifts permit humans to forget and ignore. The longer the interval since the last eruption or earthquake, the more irrationally confident we become in our misdiagnoses and misunderstandings, as lived experience passes into cultural memory.
From a geological perspective, a few hundred years is a mere clearing of the throat. While volcanoes doze, hundreds of human lifespans can pass. With each generation, ever-more complacent descendants can dismiss written warnings of past catastrophes as myths with ever-more confidence and authority. Oral records are even more fragile.
Science should change all this. But it doesn’t.
What will we learn from the latest earthquake disaster?
Massive earthquakes shift more than land masses. Throughout human history major earthquakes have also marked turning points in human understanding of ourselves and our environment.
- 1755: The Lisbon Earthquake supercharged The Age of Reason
- 1883: The Krakatoa Eruption, communicated via the electric telegraph, meant people around the world connected local phenomena with a global event
- 1906: Fires following The San Francisco Earthquake killed at least as many people as the seismic event, revolutionising quake-zone architecture.
- 1923: Fires from gas pipes and wooden buildings in the aftermath of the Great Kanto Earthquake were even more lethal, leading to radical urban planning reform on both sides of the Pacific.
- 1976: The Tangshan Earthquake killed a quarter of a million people without anyone outside the epicentre in northeast China even knowing about it.
So how will the 2023 Turkey-Syria Earthquake, or whatever we end up agreeing to call it, end up changing us?
Let’s rewind to the Tangshan Earthquake, as it’s particularly instructive. It killed more people, more recently, than any earthquake we know of. Yet it’s still hardly known at all, even within China. It’s worth understanding why.
At the time, the political earthquake of the Cultural Revolution had sealed China from the world. The superstitious significance of acknowledging such a colossal natural disaster while Chairman Mao lay on his deathbed panicked China’s Politburo into cover-up. To ideological fanatics, even earthquakes are political.
Scientists around the world registered the Tangshan earthquake register on their seismographs, guessed something major must have happened, informed the authorities. But China hadn’t even reported it, and there was nothing anyone could do about it anyway, as political fanaticism had sealed the borders.
As China opened up, facts about Tangshan gradually leaked out, and are largely now in the open. But have you ever heard of it? How come we still pay far more attention to the Cultural Revolution than the Tangshan Earthquake?
You could reply that one lasted a decade and killed millions, while the other lasted seconds and killed hundreds of thousands, but that’s clearly not the real reason. You could name dozens of other natural disasters that have killed a tiny proportion of the quarter of a million who perished in the Tangshan earthquake.
Might it be because one was the result of human folly, the other of natural causes? This is a much more reasonable answer. We have no influence over tectonic activity, and can only respond with damage control.
It makes sense for us to focus attention on disasters of our making. If we created them, we can prevent or mitigate their consequences by our own actions.
Ditto for climate change. So why don’t we think of it in the same way?
Too complicated, too long, too far away
Ironically, the same reason that limits our understanding of seismology may also account for our reluctance to act on the overwhelming scientific evidence of human-induced global heating.
The Greenhouse Effect, like tectonic plate shifts, is just too complicated, takes too long, and seems to happen too far away. Even if we acknowledge the problem of our fossil fuel addition, it’s easy to blame on others. Addicts can only recover if they accept they have a problem. If we don’t even see global heating as ‘our’ problem, what chance do we have of seeing it as something we can influence for the better?
For most of us getting on with our daily lives, seismology, like atmospheric physics, belongs in the classroom or the lab. It’s an abstraction for boffins with egg-heads, in white coats, in ivory towers. We may occasionally directly experience the impact of greenhouse-effect-induced floods and fires, but by and large we don’t see their causes to be related to our daily lives, everyday experience and ‘common sense’. Much simpler to file them in the ‘natural disaster’ box, especially when vested interests from the status quo encourage you not to join the dots.
Even those boffins who spend all day gathering, analysing and modelling this scientific evidence can’t maintain a constant peak of panic and urgency about it before more routine daily life crowds out a sense of urgent, impending doom. Hollywood explainers of our wishful thinking and wilful ignorance are dismissed as poor entertainment.
Much easier to be distracted by other, more manageable issues. Like culture wars, pop culture, or – and this is the awkward bit – earthquakes.
Timing is everything
Speeding up carbon drawdown and mitigating the worst effects of our fossil fuel addition requires immediate, coordinated global reaction and massive behavioural change.
History teaches us that science, as it peels away once-godlike mysteries, can profoundly alter human understanding of the planet and our relationship with it.
We’re naturally resistant to change. It takes time for scientific insights to percolate through to ordinary people and popular culture. Modern Flat-Earthers aside, we eventually get the message. The problem this time, is that we don’t have time.
We don’t have the luxury letting climate science seep gradually into popular consciousness over decades. Things will get much, much worse, the longer we dally. The world’s top boffins have calculated as precisely as possible what we should prioritise. Activists like See Through News have used this data to create games, using pencil-and-paper, and recycled Jenga blocks, to show how individual behavioural change only gets us 10% of the way, and the other 90% depends on government regulation.
We need immediate top-down action, with leaders risking short-term unpopularity for long-term good, and businesses sacrificing short-term profit for long-term survival.
Humans have proved a remarkably adaptable species, but the climate crisis is different. We can’t benefit by competing against other human tribes, and seeing who prevails over centuries and millennia. To save ourselves this time, we need to act in concert, immediately.
This is all looking grim. Can earthquakes provide any other useful lessons in how we might encourage our rational brains to overrule our trivial brains? Here’s a thought experiment.
The big problem with earthquake science
However sophisticated our understanding of The Science of earthquakes, seismologists face their own Inconvenient Truth. Unlike climate scientists, they can never provide useful information for politicians to act on.
To understand why, it’s best seen from a politician’s perspective.
Imagine you’re the mayor of a major city, in charge of millions of people going about their daily lives.
One day, top seismologists call your hotline, almost panicking. Because you’ve ‘paid for it’, you know:
- the range and sophistication of the devices they use to gather massive real-time data
- the ingenuity and complexity of the algorithms with which they process this data
- the number-crunching power of the supercomputers that perform these calculations
- the bleeding-edge technology and human genius used to analyse the results
The Panicked Scientists are telling you there’s a 46% chance of a 6.5-7.3 earthquake in the next 7 months.
What do you tell the people you govern?
It’s an impossible question. None of your options has a good outcome for you:
- You act on the warnings, order immediate citywide evacuation, there’s no earthquake: you’ll probably have to resign, if you’re not fired first.
- You act on the warnings, order immediate citywide evacuation, an earthquake happens: you may get some credit, but people will soon start criticising your emergency response.
- You ignore the warnings, there’s no earthquake before you leave office: you’ll be absolutely fine
- You ignore the warnings, earthquake happens before you leave office: you’ll be vilified.
Even for the most conscientious, community-minded, science-based mayor, the logical response is, on the balance of the science, to thank the boffins for their efforts, note their concern, hang up, and get on with preparing for the next budget committee meeting.
The big problem with climate science
However sophisticated our understanding of The Science, politicians seem unable to legislate effective regulations to immediately reduce atmospheric carbon. Rather that condemning them out of hand, let’s once again try to see things from the politician’s perspective.
Imagine you’re a political leader in charge of millions of people going about their daily lives (this thought experiment will prove that whether you happen to lead a ‘democracy’ or ‘autocracy’ is a lot less important than leaders from either would have us believe).
One day, top climate experts call your hotline, almost panicking. Because you’ve ‘paid for it’, you know:
- the range and sophistication of their measuring devices gathering real-time data.
- the ingenuity and complexity of the algorithms they apply to process this data.
- the supercomputers number-crunching power being applied to these calculations.
- their analysis is at the limits of human technology and genius.
The panicked Scientists are telling you there’s a 99% chance of a functional breakdown of human civilisation in the next 70 years if we don’t immediately stop using fossil fuels.
What do you tell the people you govern?
It’s an impossible question, to which no answer will result in a good outcome.
- You act on the warnings, immediately ban the use of all fossil fuels in your city, civilisation endures locally: you’ll probably have to resign if you’re not fired first.
- You act on the warnings, civilisation breaks down in 30 years: you’ll probably have to resign if you’re not fired first.
- You ignore the warnings, civilisation endures locally: you’ll be absolutely fine.
- You ignore the warnings, civilisation breaks down in 30 years: you’ll be absolutely fine.
Even for the most conscientious, community-minded, science-based mayor, the logical response is, on the balance of the science, to thank the boffins for their efforts, note their concern, hang up, and get on with preparing for the next budget committee meeting.
Logic dictates that the collapse of civilisation is a far worse problem than a single earthquake, however devastating. Unfortunately, the global nature of climate, and the length of time and space between cause and effect, makes addressing global heating a far harder problem.
The less immediate the consequences in time and space, the less incentive any individual politician has to take action. Much easier to blame someone else.
Felling any better?
If you’re worried about Los Angeles, don’t think about New York
If you’re still unconvinced, let’s flip back to the scientist’s perspective.
As our thought experiment just demonstrated, to be a seismologist is to be painfully aware of the limitations of human knowledge, the depth of our ignorance, and the practical political problems of acting on it.
But if you’re, say, an American seismologist, choosing your field of research on which to base your career, feed your family, and pay your mortgage, which coast would you choose to study?
Most, for some of the reasons you’ve just thought of, and many only experts would think of, go for the West Coast. It’s part of the Pacific Ring of Fire, home to the San Andreas Fault, and location of major earthquakes within living memory and recorded history.
You know you’ll never be able to predict the timing of earthquakes within a time-frame that any politician could act on, but there are multi-billion-dollar insurance and construction industries highly motivated to fund your work, and act on your research.
But what if intellectual curiosity, or family ties, attracted you to the MidWest, or East Coast? Seismologists are aware of the New Madrid Seismic Zone, the Reelfoot Rift, and the 125th Street Fault, but no one else has ever heard of them.
East coast earthquakes are less frequent, so worry less about them. This has a certain logic, until you realise that a much milder quake can have much more lethal consequences in a city that’s not been built for it.
Unlike the West Coast, East Coast urban infrastructure hasn’t been built with earthquake mitigation in mind. This means a relatively low-intensity earthquake in the wrong place and of the wrong kind, could liquify much of the reclaimed land on which New York is built, and reduce swatches of brownstone buildings to rubble.
The tiny tribe of East Coast seismologists have long beaten themselves up about the ethics of how loud their profession should sound the East Coast Quake Warning klaxon. They’re aware that until disaster strikes, it’s all too easy to be accused of fear-mongering and crying wolf for personal profit. Raising the alarm too loud and too often could do more harm than good. No one likes bad news, especially if there’s little they can do to act on it.
To be fair, New York authorities have duly written up a carefully-caveated hazard mitigation plan, noting all this research. But you can read the ‘phew’ and ‘but don’t worry’ between the lines. This is fine, until we get unlucky, and the 125th Street Fault wiggles its hips to get more comfortable.
But the urban planners of New York wrote their plan in the knowledge that doing anything significant about it would be prohibitively expensive, utterly impractical, and it’s very unlikely to happen on their watch.
Do these reasons sound familiar? The difference between NY city planners and our global politicians is that climate scientists have been able to predict with astonishing accuracy the exact progression and growth of the risk.
The Hope Bit
If this all seems overwhelmingly grim, you’re now acknowledging the depth of the hole humans have dug for ourselves. Welcome to the problem.
But as we huddle for warmth beneath the rubble of our fossil fuel addiction, here are a couple of dangling threads of hope, glimmers of light, appearing from above.
Glimmer One: Growing Accountability
The first is that incumbent politicians, whether cynical and corrupt or public-spirited and squeaky-clean, are broadly aware of bad personal political consequences when it comes to being held accountable for mismanagement of earthquake mitigation measures. We’ve ‘just’ got to explain to them, and the public, that the same reputational risks apply to climate mitigation. Times a billion.
Returning to recent events in Turkey/Syria, the tragically predictable earthquake news cycle means media attention and public outrage is now turning to the Turkish authorities, specifically their corruption, backhanders and blind eyes that lead to avoidable deaths.
There’s nothing uniquely Turkish about this. Chinese authorities experienced exactly the same opprobrium after the 2008 Sichuan earthquake.
Much as they tried, social media meant they couldn’t do a Tangshan and cover that one up. Despite authorities’ best efforts to control the narrative and blame foreigners, domestic social media kept the focus on the human interventions, or lack of them, that made things worse. They coined the online meme of ‘tofu buildings’ to describe the lethal consequences of construction corruption. We know online whistle-blowers were imprisoned for “disseminating rumours and destroying social order”. It’s less clear if any officials responsible for the shoddy construction faced any consequences.
Lest you accuse us of picking on China, these are exactly the same charges levelled at Italian authorities after the 2009 L’Aquila earthquake, or indeed any earthquake ever in modern times. Mafia gangs profited from the flood of restoration money, without any consequence.
It’s nothing to do with favouring or vilifying one country over another. We’re just describing human nature.
Humans aren’t so different, whether objecting to corruption after the event, or indulging in wishful ignorance before the event.
We’ve written about the climate lessons of Covid elsewhere, so won’t belabour the point any further here.
Glimmer Two: Diminishing Excuses
Another glimmer of hope is, ironically, how rapidly we’re screwing things up.
Until quite recently, individual instances of ‘natural’ disasters could be framed as ‘unseasonal’ hurricanes, ‘rogue’ wildfires, or ‘black swan’ flood events. Climate science’s complexity left plenty of wiggle room for bad actors, billionaire-owned mass media, businesses with vested interests in the status quo, and the willfully ignorant to chalk individual disasters down to bad luck. We call these triumvirates of climate denialists The Three-Headed Beasts. They’ve invested a lot over a long time into getting us to do nothing and/or give up, and they still pose a formidable obstacle to effective climate action.
But the gathering pace of human-induced climate change is making their diversionary, science-questioning bluster increasingly untenable.
What you can do
Following the Hope Bit, comes the Call to Action.
By now you know you won’t be getting any false hope from See Through News, but we exist because we believe we can still act to mitigate the worst effects of global heating, and urge you to do the same.
You don’t have to volunteer for See Through News exclusively. You’ll already know about the many groups who are ‘jumping up and down’ to try to draw our attention to the crisis we’ve created. They nearly all have ‘green’, ‘nature’, ‘earth’, ‘eco’ or ‘environment’ in their name. Be alert for Big Oil front organisations with benign-sounding names. Listen to Drilled to learn more about them.
The more overt these activists are, the greater their public vilification. Just ask Greta Thunberg. What they do is critically important, but self-evidently ineffective – so far.
But they’re growing all the time. Support them. Challenge anyone who unthinkingly parrots mass-media ad hominem attacks, and try to re-direct conversation towards The Science.
Then there’s See Through News. Our approach is more pragmatic. We avoid grandstanding, and focus on measurably reducing carbon by whatever means possible. While our Goal is simple, our Methodology is complex, so takes time to get your head round.
But ever since we tested our Methodology with the world’s most active climate activists at COP26, we know our approach is unique. As See Through News projects come to fruition, and start to join up, we can also demonstrate they measurably reduce carbon.
It’s not simple to explain – that’s why what we’re doing is unique.
To discover more, sign up to our free weekly newsletter.
To join in, volunteer for one of our many projects. There’s something for everyone.
Thank you for reading this.
Sorry if you were hoping for brighter glimmers, but if nothing else, we’re trying to see the world as it is, not as we wish it would be. Any solutions will have to be equally pragmatic, so that’s what we’re working on.