Arquivo mensal: abril 2022

É preciso interromper a tragédia humanitária na terra ianomâmi (O Globo)


Malu Gaspar

Por Editorial 15/04/2022 00:00

Ianomâmis (Reuter) Ianomâmis (Reuter) | Reuters

São contundentes as conclusões do relatório da Hutukara Associação Yanomami sobre os efeitos nocivos do garimpo ilegal na maior reserva do país, que reúne cerca de 30 mil indígenas numa área de 9 milhões de hectares entre Amazonas e Roraima. Como mostrou O GLOBO, em apenas um ano (de 2020 a 2021), a devastação cresceu 46%, maior taxa desde a demarcação das terras ianomâmis em 1992. A destruição, evidenciada pelas crateras no meio da floresta e pelos rios contaminados com mercúrio, pode ser a ponta mais visível, mas não é a única tragédia. Com o desmatamento, forasteiros levam doenças, violência, drogas e terror.

Segundo o relatório, as aldeias enfrentam uma explosão de casos de malária — em algumas regiões, o aumento foi de mais de 1.000% em dois anos. Comida é outro problema crônico. Estudos mostram que 60% das crianças estão desnutridas. No fim do ano passado, imagens de crianças ianomâmis com as costelas à mostra chocaram o mundo. A situação é agravada pela estrutura precária de saúde e pelas grandes distâncias que separam as aldeias dos postos de atendimento médico.

Estima-se que existam 20 mil garimpeiros ilegais nas terras ianomâmis, sob vista grossa dos órgãos ambientais. Nesse cenário sem lei, os indígenas se tornam presas fáceis de esquemas criminosos. Há relatos de aliciamento de menores, abuso sexual de mulheres e crianças e oferecimento de drogas e bebidas alcoólicas aos indígenas. De acordo com a Hutukara, ao menos três crianças já foram mortas depois de ser abusadas por garimpeiros ilegais.

Não surpreende que a violência impere nesse ambiente de anomia. Na segunda-feira, um conflito entre indígenas numa área de garimpo dentro da terra ianomâmi deixou dois mortos (um indígena e um garimpeiro) e cinco feridos. Segundo relatos, índios tireis, apoiados por garimpeiros, invadiram a aldeia pixanehabi, contrária à exploração mineral na reserva.

Seria incorreto dizer que o Ibama e a Polícia Federal não agem. Na terça-feira, foi deflagrada a Operação Escudo de Palha, para combater o desmatamento ilegal numa comunidade indígena de Mato Grosso. Mas essas ações esporádicas são insuficientes. Além disso, são notórios o desmonte da fiscalização ambiental e a falta de empenho do governo para enfrentar madeireiros, grileiros e garimpeiros ilegais. Infelizmente, a sinalização que emana do Palácio do Planalto é outra.

Durante uma pajelança no Ministério da Justiça no mês passado, o presidente Jair Bolsonaro foi condecorado com a Medalha do Mérito Indigenista, concedida pela Funai “pelos serviços relevantes relacionados com o bem-estar, a proteção e a defesa das comunidades indígenas”. Bolsonaro foi um dos 26 agraciados, entre os quais estavam dez integrantes do primeiro escalão do governo. Para fazer jus à homenagem, presidente e ministros poderiam se esforçar para interromper a tragédia humanitária que se abate sobre os ianomâmis e envergonha o país.

You’ve heard of water droughts. Could ‘energy’ droughts be next? (Science Daily)

Date: April 12, 2022

Source: Columbia University

Summary: Drawing on 70 years of historic wind and solar-power data, researchers built an AI model to predict the probability of a network-scale ‘drought,’ when daily production of renewables fell below a target threshold. Under a threshold set at the 30th percentile, when roughly a third of all days are low-production days, the researchers found that Texas could face a daily energy drought for up to four months straight. Batteries would be unable to compensate for a drought of this length, and if the system relied on solar energy alone, the drought could be expected to last twice as long — for eight months.


Renewable energy prices have fallen by more than 70 percent in the last decade, driving more Americans to abandon fossil fuels for greener, less-polluting energy sources. But as wind and solar power continue to make inroads, grid operators may have to plan for large swings in availability.

The warning comes from Upmanu Lall, a professor at Columbia Engineering and the Columbia Climate School who has recently turned his sights from sustainable water use to sustainable renewables in the push toward net-zero carbon emissions.

“Designers of renewable energy systems will need to pay attention to changing wind and solar patterns over weeks, months, and years, the way water managers do,” he said. “You won’t be able to manage variability like this with batteries. You’ll need more capacity.”

In a new modeling study in the journal Patterns, Lall and Columbia PhD student Yash Amonkar, show that solar and wind potential vary widely over days and weeks, not to mention months to years. They focused on Texas, which leads the country in generating electricity from wind power and is the fifth-largest solar producer. Texas also boasts a self-contained grid that’s as big as many countries’, said Lall, making it an ideal laboratory for charting the promise and peril of renewable energy systems.

Drawing on 70 years of historic wind and solar-power data, the researchers built an AI model to predict the probability of a network-scale “drought,” when daily production of renewables fell below a target threshold. Under a threshold set at the 30th percentile, when roughly a third of all days are low-production days, the researchers found that Texas could face a daily energy drought for up to four months straight.

Batteries would be unable to compensate for a drought of this length, said Lall, and if the system relied on solar energy alone, the drought could be expected to last twice as long — for eight months. “These findings suggest that energy planners will have to consider alternate ways of storing or generating electricity, or dramatically increasing the capacity of their renewable systems,” he said.

Anticipating Future ‘Energy’ Droughts — in Texas, and Across the Continental United States

The research began six years ago, when Lall and a former graduate student, David Farnham, examined wind and solar variability at eight U.S. airports, where weather records tend to be longer and more detailed. They wanted to see how much variation could be expected under a hypothetical 100% renewable-energy grid.

The results, which Farnham published in his PhD thesis, weren’t a surprise. Farnham and Lall found that solar and wind potential, like rainfall, is highly variable based on the time of year and the place where wind turbines and solar panels have been sited. Across eight cities, they found that renewable energy potential rose and fell from the long-term average by as much as a third in some seasons.

“We coined the term ‘energy’ droughts since a 10-year cycle with this much variation from the long-term average would be seen as a major drought,” said Lall. “That was the beginning of the energy drought work.”

In the current study, Lall chose to zoom in on Texas, a state well-endowed with both sun and wind. Lall and Amonkar found that persistent renewable energy droughts could last as long as a year even if solar and wind generators were spread across the entire state. The conclusion, Lall said, is that renewables face a storage problem that can only realistically be solved by adding additional capacity or sources of energy.

“In a fully renewable world, we would need to develop nuclear fuel or hydrogen fuel, or carbon recycling, or add much more capacity for generating renewables, if we want to avoid burning fossil fuels,” he said.

In times of low rainfall, water managers keep fresh water flowing through the spigot by tapping municipal reservoirs or underground aquifers. Solar and wind energy systems have no equivalent backup. The batteries used to store excess solar and wind power on exceptionally bright and gusty days hold a charge for only a few hours, and at most, a few days. Hydropower plants provide a potential buffer, said Lall, but not for long enough to carry the system through an extended dry spell of intermittent sun and wind.

“We won’t solve the problem by building a larger network,” he said. “Electric grid operators have a target of 99.99% reliability while water managers strive for 90 percent reliability. You can see what a challenging game this will be for the energy industry, and just how valuable seasonal and longer forecasts could be.”

In the next phase of research, Lall will work with Columbia Engineering professors Vijay Modi and Bolun Xu to see if they can predict both energy droughts and “floods,” when the system generates a surplus of renewables. Armed with these projections, they hope to predict the rise and fall of energy prices.


Journal Reference:

  1. Yash Amonkar, David J. Farnham, Upmanu Lall. A k-nearest neighbor space-time simulator with applications to large-scale wind and solar power modeling. Patterns, 2022; 3 (3): 100454 DOI: 10.1016/j.patter.2022.100454

Recalled experiences surrounding death: More than hallucinations? (Science Daily)

sciencedaily.com

Global scientific team publishes consensus statement and new guidelines

Date: April 12, 2022

Source: NYU Langone Health / NYU Grossman School of Medicine

Summary: Scientific advances in the 20th and 21st centuries have led to a major evolution in the understanding of death. At the same time, for decades, people who have survived an encounter with death have recalled unexplained lucid episodes involving heightened consciousness and awareness. These have been reported using the popular — yet scientifically ill-defined — term ‘near-death experiences’.


Scientific advances in the 20th and 21st centuries have led to a major evolution in the understanding of death. At the same time, for decades, people who have survived an encounter with death have recalled unexplained lucid episodes involving heightened consciousness and awareness. These have been reported using the popular — yet scientifically ill-defined — term “near-death experiences.”

A multidisciplinary team of national and international leaders, led by Sam Parnia, MD, PhD, director of Critical Care and Resuscitation Research at NYU Grossman School of Medicine, have published “Guidelines and Standards for the Study of Death and Recalled Experiences of Death,” a multi-disciplinary consensus statement and proposed future directions in the Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences.Thisstudy, which examined the accumulated scientific evidence to date, represents the first-ever, peer-reviewed consensus statement for the scientific study of recalled experiences surrounding death.

The researchers on the study represent many medical disciplines, including the neurosciences, critical care, psychiatry, psychology, social sciences and humanities, and represent many of the world’s most respected academic institutions including Harvard University, Baylor University, University of California Riverside, University of Virginia, Virginia Commonwealth University, Medical College of Wisconsin, and the Universities of Southampton and London.

Among their conclusions:

  1. Due to advances in resuscitation and critical care medicine, many people have survived encounters with death or being near-death. These people — who are estimated to comprise hundreds of millions of people around the world based on previous population studies — have consistently described recalled experiences surrounding death, which involve a unique set of mental recollections with universal themes.
  2. The recalled experiences surrounding death are not consistent with hallucinations, illusions or psychedelic drug induced experiences, according to several previously published studies. Instead, they follow a specific narrative arc involving a perception of: (a) separation from the body with a heightened, vast sense of consciousness and recognition of death; (b) travel to a destination; (c) a meaningful and purposeful review of life, involving a critical analysis of all actions, intentions and thoughts towards others; a perception of (d) being in a place that feels like “home,” and (e) a return back to life.
  3. The experience of death culminates into previously unidentified, separate subthemes and is associated with positive long-term psychological transformation and growth.
  4. Studies showing the emergence of gamma activity and electrical spikes — ordinarily a sign of heightened states of consciousness on electroencephalography (EEG) — in relation to death, further support the claims of millions of people who have reported experiencing lucidity and heightened consciousness in relation to death.
  5. Frightening or distressing experiences in relation to death often neither share the same themes, nor the same narrative, transcendent qualities, ineffability, and positive transformative effects.

“Cardiac arrest is not a heart attack, but represents the final stage of a disease or event that causes a person to die,” lead author Parnia explains. “The advent of cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) showed us that death is not an absolute state, rather, it’s a process that could potentially be reversed in some people even after it has started.

“What has enabled the scientific study of death,” he continues, “is that brain cells do not become irreversibly damaged within minutes of oxygen deprivation when the heart stops. Instead, they ‘die’ over hours of time. This is allowing scientists to objectively study the physiological and mental events that occur in relation to death.”

So far, the researchers say, evidence suggests that neither physiological nor cognitive processes end with death and that although systematic studies have not been able to absolutely prove the reality or meaning of patients’ experiences and claims of awareness in relation to death, it has been impossible to disclaim them either.

“Few studies have explored what happens when we die in an objective and scientific way, but these findings offer intriguing insights into how consciousness exists in humans and may pave the way for further research,” Parnia adds.

Journal Reference

Sam Parnia, Stephen G. Post, Matthew T. Lee, Sonja Lyubomirsky, Tom P. Aufderheide, Charles D. Deakin, Bruce Greyson, Jeffrey Long, Anelly M. Gonzales, Elise L. Huppert, Analise Dickinson, Stephan Mayer, Briana Locicero, Jeff Levin, Anthony Bossis, Everett Worthington, Peter Fenwick, Tara Keshavarz Shirazi. Guidelines and standards for the study of death and recalled experiences of death––a multidisciplinary consensus statement and proposed future directions. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 2022; DOI: 10.1111/nyas.14740

Watchers of the earth (AEON)

Indigenous peoples around the world tell myths which contain warning signs for natural disasters. Scientists are now listening.

Watchers of the earth | Aeon

Native knowledge. A Moken woman stares out to sea. Photo by Taylor Weidman/LightRocket/Getty

Carrie Arnold is a freelance science writer, whose work has appeared in the Washington Post, Scientific American and Slate, among others. Her latest book is Decoding Anorexia (2012). She lives in Virginia.

Edited by Pam Weintraub

Shortly before 8am on 26 December 2004, the cicadas fell silent and the ground shook in dismay. The Moken, an isolated tribe on the Andaman Islands in the Indian Ocean, knew that the Laboon, the ‘wave that eats people’, had stirred from his ocean lair. The Moken also knew what was next: a towering wall of water washing over their island, cleansing it of all that was evil and impure. To heed the Laboon’s warning signs, elders told their children, run to high ground.

The tiny Andaman and Nicobar Islands were directly in the path of the tsunami generated by the magnitude 9.1 earthquake off the coast of Sumatra. Final totals put the islands’ death toll at 1,879, with another 5,600 people missing. When relief workers finally came ashore, however, they realised that the death toll was skewed. The islanders who had heard the stories about the Laboon or similar mythological figures survived the tsunami essentially unscathed. Most of the casualties occurred in the southern Nicobar Islands. Part of the reason was the area’s geography, which generated a higher wave. But also at the root was the lack of a legacy; many residents in the city of Port Blair were outsiders, leaving them with no indigenous tsunami warning system to guide them to higher ground.

Humanity has always courted disaster. We have lived, died and even thrived alongside vengeful volcanoes and merciless waves. Some disasters arrive without warning, leaving survival to luck. Often, however, there is a small window of time giving people a chance to escape. Learning how to crack open this window can be difficult when a given catastrophe strikes once every few generations. So humans passed down stories through the ages that helped cultures to cope when disaster inevitably struck. These stories were fodder for anthropologists and social scientists, but in the past decade, geologists have begun to pay more attention to how indigenous peoples understood, and prepared for, disaster. These stories, which couched myth in metaphor, could ultimately help scientists prepare for cataclysms to come.

Anyone who has spent time around small children gets used to the question ‘why?’ Why is the sky blue? Why do birds fly? Why does thunder make such a loud noise? A friend’s mother told us that thunder was God going bowling in the sky. Nature need not be scary and unpredictable, even if it was controlled by forces we could neither see nor understand.

The human penchant for stories and meaning is nothing new. Myths and legends provide entertainment, but they also transmit knowledge of how to behave and how the world works. Breaking the code of these stories, however, takes skill. Tales of gods gone bowling during summer downpours seems nonsensical on the surface, but know a little about the sudden thunderclaps and the clatter of bowling pins as they’re struck by a ball, and the story makes sense.

In 1968, Dorothy Vitaliano, a geologist at Indiana University, pioneered the study of cultural myths that told of real geological events. Ancient Sanskrit tales told of entire cities that sunk beneath the waves with all the hallmarks of a tsunami. Plato’s story of the utopian Atlantis, destroyed by the gods in a wreckage of fire, might have referred to a volcano that partially destroyed the Greek island of Thera more than 3,500 years ago.

this story wasn’t simply a saga of angry gods but a geological record of an ancient eruption

Vitaliano published her work in a folklore journal, not a scientific one. It would take another geologist, Patrick Nunn of the University of the Sunshine Coast in Australia, to bring the field more fully into the physical sciences. Nunn’s work in the paradisiacal South Pacific gave him the opportunity to immerse himself in the islands’ traditional cultures. A group on Fiji regaled him with a story of Tanovo, the ancient chief of the Fijian island of Ono. One day, Tanovo ran across his main rival, the chief of the volcano Nabukelevu. To intimidate Tanovo, the volcano chief made Nabukelevu rise up and belch gas and burning rock into the air. Tanovo responded by weaving massive baskets to remove the mountain, dropping the debris in the ocean to create new islands. To Nunn, this story wasn’t simply a saga of angry gods but a geological record of an ancient eruption. Pressure from magma can make a volcano expand in size before the release of gas and ash. Geologists knew that small islands around Fiji were the result of volcanic rubble, but Nunn was the first geologist to hear these stories and read between the lines.

The problem was that the best geological evidence Nunn could find dated the last eruption of Nabukelevu to 50,000 years in the past, long before any humans inhabited Fiji. Nunn wrote off the tale as merely a fanciful story, and it would have remained that way if not for a new road being built near the volcano. When construction workers dug out the roadbed, they discovered pottery fragments mixed in a three-foot layer of ash. Further analysis revealed that the fragments were 3,000 years old, dating to 1,000 years after humans first arrived on Fiji.

These stories, in synch with archaeological finds, provided evidence of ‘geological events we don’t have access to any other way. There are not many examples of wholly invented myths – ancient humans were not like modern fiction writers. The point of these stories was to pass knowledge along,’ Nunn explained.

Brian McAdoo, a tsunami scientist at Yale-NUS in Singapore, began his career plumbing the depths of the ocean in high-tech submersibles to understand the earthquakes that triggered tsunamis. In 1998, a magnitude 7.1 earthquake struck off the northern coast of Papua New Guinea, triggering a tsunami estimated to have killed more than 2,000 on the island. The quake was comparatively gentle for such a deadly tsunami, which led McAdoo to begin looking at the social and cultural factors that made some geological disasters deadlier than others. His research introduced him to local tribes who told him traditional stories about earthquakes and tsunamis from the past.

‘A lot of the people we talked to said that their grandmothers would tell these stories about how their grandmothers survived a tsunami,’ McAdoo said.

As McAdoo was delving into the mysteries of Fijian stories in the southwestern Pacific, other scientists were using a similar strategy to study seismic events in the Pacific Northwest. Brian Atwater, an employee of the United States Geological Survey (USGS) in the 1970s and ’80s, was tasked with mapping the earthquake risks across Northern California, Oregon, and Washington. To do that, Atwater needed information about previous earthquakes that had struck the area. Written records dated back only about 200 years, so Atwater, now at the University of Washington in Seattle, initially relied on information that he could glean from the soil and rocks.

His work sent him into areas where native peoples had lived for thousands of years, and they told the government scientist their own myths about gods who walked the earth, stomping their feet and making the ground shake, as well as giant waves that swept over the land shortly thereafter.

In 2007, Atwater identified a massive earthquake that spawned an equally massive tsunami, decimating villages and forever altering the landscape of the Pacific Northwest. When his team dated the debris from the earthquake, he discovered it had occurred around the year 1700.

‘It was a horrible thing – the burial of a house and no doubt its occupants. It’s a really sobering experience to sift through those artefacts’

When Japanese seismologists heard of this date, they immediately contacted Atwater about a rogue tsunami that no one could explain. The Japanese, of course, were long familiar with tsunamis, having coined the word. They knew that the wall of water always followed an earthquake, and people living along the coast had learned to seek higher ground when they felt the ground start to shake. Yet in the 12th year of the Genroku era, or 1700 CE, a tsunami had hurtled itself into Japan’s eastern shore, but without an accompanying earthquake.

Modern seismologists guessed that the tsunami must have been spawned by an earthquake on the other side of the Pacific, but they couldn’t be any more specific. Atwater’s work gave them the missing information: in the Cascades, the Juan de Fuca plate dives beneath the North American plate, but it doesn’t move smoothly. The rocks get stuck, and tension builds. When the stress becomes too high, the fault ruptures and the plates move – a process that humans describe as an earthquake. Based on the precise recordings of the Japanese tsunami, the researchers provided a much more precise date for the earthquake that devastated the Pacific Northwest. Sometime around 9pm on Tuesday, 26 January 1700, a magnitude 9.0 earthquake hit as the plates violently released the stress pent up in the rocks.

‘It was a horrible thing to contemplate – the burial of a house and no doubt its occupants, as well as so many other parts of their lives. It’s a really sobering experience to sift through those artefacts,’ Atwater said.

Linking traditional Native American stories to historic records of a Japanese tsunami was considered an exception, not the start of a fruitful geological collaboration. It seemed that McAdoo, Nunn and Atwater’s explorations would be confined to the fringes of geology.

Then the 2004 tsunami struck.

A century before, a tsunami had slammed into the Indonesian island of Simeulue, killing hundreds and leaving even more homeless. The event was seared into the memory of those who survived, determined to pass their hard-earned wisdom along to their children. Their instructions were devastatingly simple: if the water recedes after an earthquake, run immediately to high ground. They didn’t invoke gods or the supernatural, but these types of warnings likely formed the kernel of later myths and traditional stories, Nunn says. During the tsunami of 2004, their efficacy was clear. On Simeulue, with a population of more than 80,000, only seven people died. Before the roar of the waves drowned out human voices, the island was filled with shouts of ‘Smong! Smong! Smong!’, the local word for a tsunami.

Such stories regularly cropped up in the weeks and months following the tsunami. Residents of remote villages knew exactly what to do and survived with relatively few casualties. As the stories gained in popularity, the idea that they had valid geological merit began to grow.

‘The 2004 tsunami completely changed how science looked at disasters. There were more conversations between social scientists, natural scientists, and engineers, which led to more insights on how and why these disasters happened,’ McAdoo said.

Most recently, a paper in Science published in August 2016 revealed geological evidence for a massive ancient flood in China that had long been rumoured to have spurred the formation of the country’s first imperial dynasty. Around 4,000 years ago, the stories go, an ‘Emperor Yu’ rose to power based on his ability to drain lowlands of flood. No one knew whether Emperor Yu was a real person or whether the floodwaters he tamed actually existed.

Yet studying the landslides in the Jishi Gorge that dammed the Yellow River high in the Tibetan plateau, a team of Chinese scientists gathered archaeological and geological evidence to demonstrate that the dams failed right around the time that China’s first dynasty emerged. The failure rerouted the Yellow River, a dynamic that could lead to persistent flooding downstream. The researchers also found evidence of large-scale drainage projects in the Yellow River delta that popped up not long after the Jishi Gorge landslides.

My personal suburban legends left me intimately familiar with what to do if I ever saw a funnel cloud

The destructive power of natural disasters hasn’t diminished in the thousands of years during which these stories were told and retold. And humanity now faces an even greater catastrophe in the form of climate change. Unlike floods, earthquakes, tsunamis and volcanoes, the devastation from global warming isn’t sudden and violent. It has been creeping up on us for decades, but that doesn’t mean it will be any less deadly. To fight these changes, humanity needs a new set of tales.

On Fiji, 25-year-old Betty Barkha is traversing her homeland to gather stories of how locals are responding to increased cyclones and flooding caused by our changing climate. These stories might not have the nail-biting drama of oral epics filled with supernatural forces, but they can connect with readers and listeners in ways that dry data from government agencies can’t.

Most humans don’t spend their evenings swapping stories around a campfire, but we haven’t lost our penchant for myth. The same summer storms caused by gods gone bowling could also generate tornadoes. As a child in the Midwest, I knew all the signs: a sky that looked like pea soup, wind that had the angry roar of an oncoming train, and the plaintive wail of a warning siren. A few years before I was born, a tornado had ripped through my town, leaving a path of debris less than a quarter mile from my home. Decades later, stories are still told of how a gas station was levelled on one side of the street but a building diagonally across was untouched. My personal suburban legends left me intimately familiar with what to do if I ever saw a funnel cloud.

Whether the disaster is earthquake, volcano or ocean wave, modern responses will likely involve cutting-edge science, but chances are we’ll also be spinning stories for aeons to come.

13 April 2017

Brasil oficializa ‘pedalada climática’ em nova meta de redução de gases (Folha de S.Paulo)

www1.folha.uol.com.br

Phillippe Watanabe

7 de abril de 2022


Uma atualização das metas de redução de gases estufa foi registrada pelo Brasil, nesta quinta-feira (7), na UNFCCC (sigla em inglês para Convenção-Quadro das Nações Unidas sobre Mudança do Clima), formalizando, dessa forma, uma “pedalada climática“.

As novas metas aparecem mais de cinco meses depois da COP26, a Conferência das Nações Unidas para Mudanças Climáticas, e, mesmo assim, ainda não formalizam todas promessas feitas durante o evento à comunidade internacional.

Entre os objetivos atualizados está a neutralidade de carbono até 2050, a redução, em 2025, de 37% dos gase estufa, em comparação com as emissões de 2005, e a diminuição, em 2030, de 50% dos gases, também em comparação com 2005.

As emissões brasileiras são resultado, principalmente, de desmatamento e atividade pecuária.

As promessas, feitas durante a COP, de zerar o desmatamento até 2030 e de redução na emissão de metano não constam no documento, ausência apontada por entidades como o Política por Inteiro e o Observatório do Clima.

Os cortes de emissões de gases para 2030 e a neutralidade de carbono em 2050 tinham sido anunciados pelo ministro do Meio Ambiente, Joaquim Leite, em 1º de novembro do ano passado.

As organizações também criticam a “pedalada climática” das metas apresentadas.

A pedalada ocorre pela mudança no dado das emissões de 2005, que foi atualizado nos mais recentes inventários nacionais de gases estufa, ou seja, ocorreu uma mudança na base de comparação.

A primeira NDC brasileira (sigla para contribuição nacional determinada e que pode ser, de modo mais simples, traduzida como meta climática) é de 2015, ano do Acordo de Paris. Nela, o Brasil se compromete a até 2030 reduzir em 43%, em relação a 2005, as emissões de gases estufa. Nesse cenário e com os dados disponíveis naquele momento, o país emitiria, em 2030, cerca de 1,208 gigatoneladas de gás carbônico equivalente (em linhas gerais, uma soma dos gases que causam o aquecimento global).

Com a evolução nas metodologias para medir os gases, os dados de 2005 sofreram correções e aumentaram. A meta brasileira, porém, não foi alinhada a essa correção e permaneceu em 43% de redução. Como os dados de base (2005) são menores, a redução de 43% passou a significar emissões maiores em 2030 (cerca de 1,620 gigatoneladas), em comparação ao prometido inicialmente. Surgiu, assim a pedalada climática.

Aumentando-se mais o percentual de corte de emissões, a situação poderia ser corrigida com a nota meta nacional submetida ao UNFCCC. Mas isso não aconteceu. Considerando o documento que foi submetido com 50% de redução de emissões, o Brasil em 2030 estará emitindo 1,281 gigatoneladas de CO2e (leia gás carbônico equivalente), segundo análises do Observatório do Clima e do Política por Inteiro.

O alerta sobre a manutenção da pedalada já tinha sido soado no momento em que Leite anunciou a nova meta, na COP26. No dia anterior à promessa, o Brasil havia, inclusive, submetido uma carta-adendo à UNFCCC em que oficializava somente a meta de neutralidade climática até 2050, sem citações aos objetivos desta década.

Organizações apontam que as novas metas nacionais não aumentam a ambição climática, algo que era esperado das nações que assinaram o Acordo de Paris.

“O teto de emissões estipulado para 2030 está uma Colômbia inteira (em termos de emissões anuais) acima daquele estipulado anteriormente pelo Governo do Brasil”, afirma uma análise produzida pelo Política por Inteiro. Já o teto de 2025 está uma Polônia inteira acima do estipulado anteriormente aponta o documento.

O Política por Inteiro ainda aponta que o país deve resolver em definitivo a questão de atualização de metas. “As sucessivas demonstrações de retrocesso afetam diretamente a credibilidade do país na esfera internacional”, diz a análise.

O Observatório do Clima aponta que o país está descumprindo o Acordo de Paris e que mente no documento enviado ao UNFCCC ao afirmar que está aumentando sua ambição.

“Continua sendo um retrocesso, num momento em que as Nações Unidas fazem um chamado para os países aumentarem suas ambições. O Brasil não responde ao chamado e ainda continua retrocedendo”, diz, em nota, Marcio Astrini, secretário-executivo do Observatório do Clima.