climate change

The Climate Bomb, Part 2: Collapsing Towers of Ice and Stone Echo 9/11

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Current Events, Liberty , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

As we reflect on the twenty-fifth anniversary of September 11, 2001, I find the comparison between the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers and the three geological collapses described in Part 1 both unsettling and instructive.

The towers in Manhattan were structures of steel, concrete, and glass. The towers in Greenland, Alaska, and the Himalayas were mountainsides of stone and ice. Their origins and physical mechanisms were profoundly different. Yet each collapse involved the sudden failure of a massive vertical structure and the release of enormous gravitational energy.

On September 11, the destruction of the Twin Towers generated powerful shock waves, vast debris fields, and a dense cloud of pulverized building materials that spread through Lower Manhattan. The immediate physical collapse was only the beginning of the human consequences. Exposure to dust and toxic substances produced continuing health concerns long after the visible destruction had ended.

The geological events likewise demonstrate that the consequences of a collapse can extend beyond its immediate footprint. At Dickson Fjord, displaced water oscillated for nine days and generated a global seismic signature. At Tracy Arm, the tsunami scoured vegetation hundreds of meters above sea level and threatened a major seasonal tourism corridor. In the Himalayas, the collapse transformed a mountainside failure into a destructive downstream cascade.

In each case, the initial event was only one stage in a larger process. The effects propagated through water, air, sediment, infrastructure, and human systems.

The comparison should not obscure the immense differences in casualties, causes, or historical meaning. Instead, it offers a way to think about structural failure as a security problem: how can institutions recognize a threat whose consequences move faster than established assumptions, warning systems, and response capabilities?

The New “Absolute Weapon”: Cascading Climate and Geopolitical Risk

During the Cold War, strategists described nuclear weapons as “absolute weapons” because their destructive potential challenged conventional ideas about defense, deterrence, and political control. The climate bomb is different. It is not a weapon designed or launched by an adversary. It is a metaphor for the catastrophic kinetic energy that can be released when warming and changing cryospheric conditions contribute to the destabilization of enormous geological structures.

The metaphor is useful precisely because it focuses attention on the mismatch between destructive force and institutional preparedness. A collapsing mountain does not recognize national borders. A tsunami does not wait for a government to authorize an evacuation. A debris flow does not pause while neighboring states determine whether the threat originated from a natural event, an infrastructure failure, or deliberate action.

This mismatch is particularly dangerous in regions where physical hazards intersect with geopolitical tensions. In the Himalayas, the destruction of cross-border infrastructure and the interruption of river systems can affect neighboring populations and complicate emergency coordination. In the Arctic, increased shipping and tourism can expose more people and infrastructure to hazards once considered remote. As the polar world becomes more accessible, the geography of opportunity and the geography of risk increasingly overlap.

A more effective response must therefore go beyond conventional disaster planning. Monitoring should combine satellite observations, seismic and hydrological instruments, ground-based measurements, and the knowledge of people who live closest to changing landscapes. Warning systems must be designed around the actual pathways of danger: confined fjords, steep valleys, debris flows, unstable slopes, and the possibility that roads, bridges, power supplies, and communications will fail during an emergency.

Transboundary cooperation is equally important. Governments need arrangements for rapid data sharing, common hazard assessments, emergency notification, and coordinated protective action before a disaster occurs. In the Himalayas, this means adapting the principles of Arctic cooperation to high-mountain river basins. In the Arctic, it means connecting local knowledge and community observations to scientific monitoring, regional co-management, territorial governments, and international maritime institutions.

The Arctic also offers a broader lesson about the relationship between vulnerability and agency. Indigenous communities should not be treated merely as passive victims of environmental transformation. Inuit knowledge, local observation, and institutions of co-management can help identify emerging hazards and improve the legitimacy and effectiveness of adaptation. Those who live closest to changing ice, permafrost, rivers, and mountain systems must have a meaningful role in deciding how risks are monitored, communicated, and managed.

Climate justice, in this sense, is not only about reducing emissions or compensating communities for environmental harm. It is also about exposure, preparedness, authority, and recovery: who receives a warning, who can act on it, whose knowledge is recognized, and whether affected communities have the resources to rebuild their lives.

Conclusion: Learning to Think About the Unthinkable

The three collapses of stone and ice—Dickson Fjord in 2023, Tracy Arm in 2025, and Langtang Lirung in 2026—demonstrate the need to expand our understanding of climate risk. Together with the symbolic comparison to the Twin Towers of steel and concrete, they reveal how the failure of a single massive structure can unleash consequences that extend far beyond the point of collapse.

The Greenland event showed that a remote mountain failure can make the planet ring for nine days. Alaska showed that a similarly powerful event can occur in a heavily visited tourist corridor and end without casualties largely because of the timing. Nepal showed how a collapsing mountain can generate a deadly downstream cascade across a populated and geopolitically sensitive region.

These events do not establish that every unstable mountain will collapse, or that all such disasters can be attributed to climate change alone. They do, however, underline the importance of understanding how warming, glacial retreat, permafrost thaw, and changing slope conditions can interact to create hazards that conventional warning systems may not adequately anticipate.

The most dangerous assumption would be that remoteness guarantees safety, that historical experience defines the limits of future hazards, or that political boundaries can contain the consequences of a geological collapse.

The lesson of the climate bomb is not that catastrophe is inevitable: it is that preparedness must evolve as rapidly as the hazards themselves. We cannot prevent every mountain from moving, but we can improve monitoring, strengthen early-warning systems, coordinate across borders, and give local and Indigenous communities a central role in shaping the decisions that affect their safety.

The Cold War taught us to think about the unthinkable. The collapsing towers of stone and ice demand that we do so again—not by surrendering to a narrative of inevitable doom, but by building the scientific, political, and institutional capacity to confront a changing Earth before its most violent surprises arrive.

The Climate Bomb, Part 1: Collapsing Polar Peaks Portend a New, Menacing “Absolute Weapon”

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Liberty , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

For decades, we have viewed climate change as a slow-motion problem: gradually rising seas, shifting weather patterns, melting polar ice, and the opening of new maritime routes. The Arctic and the world’s high-altitude peaks were treated as remote, frozen boundaries governed by their own distinct, isolated rules.

That siloed perspective is shattering. Modern climate disruption is no longer merely disrupting frozen land, sea and ice scapes; it is also destabilizing the solid Earth. As glaciers retreat and permafrost thaws, the geological foundations supporting enormous mountain slopes can weaken, unleashing catastrophic collapses whose consequences extend far beyond their points of origin. These events introduce a disturbing new dimension to global security: the possibility that warming temperatures can transform frozen geography into a kinetic force resembling the destructive power associated with the Cold War’s ultimate, “absolute” weapon.

Three extraordinary collapses across the cryosphere from the Arctic to the Himalayan “third pole” illuminate this emerging threat: the September 2023 mega-tsunami at Dickson Fjord, Greenland; the August 2025 mega-tsunami at Tracy Arm, Alaska; and the August 2026 mountain collapse and devastating downstream flood in the Himalayas near Langtang Lirung, Nepal. Together, these three towers of stone and ice recall the destruction of the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers on September 11, 2001—an event that transformed the global security imagination a quarter-century ago.

The comparison is not that these disasters share the same causes. The Twin Towers were destroyed by a deliberate terrorist attack; the geological catastrophes arose from natural processes whose risks are being reshaped by a warming climate. Rather, the parallel lies in the sudden failure of massive structures, the conversion of gravitational potential energy into destructive kinetic force, and the capacity of a localized collapse to generate consequences that overwhelm established expectations.

The Physics of Mountain Failure: From Ice-Glue to Kinetic Waves

For millennia, glaciers and frozen ground have helped stabilize steep mountain slopes. Ice occupying fractures in bedrock, together with glaciers buttressing mountainsides, can contribute to the structural integrity of high-altitude and polar landscapes. As warming changes these conditions, previously stable slopes may become increasingly vulnerable to failure.

The resulting danger is not limited to falling rocks or retreating glaciers. When enormous masses of rock and ice plunge into confined fjords, they can displace extraordinary volumes of water, generating mega-tsunamis. When similar collapses strike steep river valleys, the debris can mix with water and snow to create fast-moving avalanches and destructive floods. In both settings, a mountain can become a source of sudden, cascading hazards that conventional monitoring systems may not anticipate.

Dickson Fjord, Greenland (2023): The Mega-Tsunami That Made the Earth Ring

On September 16, 2023, a mountainside overlooking remote Dickson Fjord in East Greenland catastrophically collapsed. Approximately 25 million cubic meters of rock and ice plunged into the narrow fjord, generating an initial mega-tsunami estimated at around 200 meters high.

The consequences did not end with the initial wave. The displaced water became trapped within the confined fjord, sloshing back and forth in a prolonged standing wave known as a seiche. Its oscillations generated an unusual, low-frequency seismic signal detected around the world. Scientists subsequently established that the phenomenon continued for nine days, making this event remarkable not only for its destructive potential but also for the planetary reach of its geophysical signature.

The episode revealed an unsettling truth: a catastrophic mountain collapse can occur in a remote landscape, escape immediate human observation, and nevertheless register across the planet. Its remoteness limited the human toll, but it did not limit the event’s scientific significance.

The Dickson Fjord tsunami also exposed a weakness in conventional early-warning systems. Monitoring frameworks designed primarily for earthquakes, conventional landslides, and glacial lake outburst floods may overlook the possibility that a mountainside itself could fail, displace a fjord’s water, and generate a sustained seismic signal. In this case, the unusual signal helped scientists discover the event after the fact. The challenge is to move from retrospective discovery toward anticipatory risk management.

Tracy Arm, Alaska (2025): A Near Miss in a Tourist Corridor

Two years later, an even larger collapse occurred at Tracy Arm, Alaska, near South Sawyer Glacier, approximately 45 miles south of Juneau. On August 10, 2025, an estimated 64 million cubic meters of rock and associated debris entered the fjord, generating a massive tsunami.

The wave stripped vegetation from the opposing fjord wall to a height of approximately 481 meters above sea level—the second-highest recorded tsunami runup. The event also produced globally recorded seismic waves equivalent to a magnitude 5.4 earthquake. A prolonged seiche continued within the fjord for 36 hours after the initial impact.

Yet Tracy Arm differed critically from Dickson Fjord. Although both are dramatic glacial landscapes, Tracy Arm attracts substantial seasonal tourism, including cruise ships, expedition vessels, recreational boats, and kayakers. Its beauty and accessibility place people within reach of a hazard capable of transforming the fjord into a deadly trap.

The collapse occurred at approximately 5:26 a.m., before most tourist traffic had entered the fjord. No deaths or injuries were reported. That outcome was fortunate, but it should not be mistaken for evidence of low risk. Had the collapse occurred later in the day, with vessels and visitors inside the affected waters, the consequences could have been far more severe. (Indeed, just 12 hours earlier, passengers aboard the luxury expedition vessel Hanse Explorer stopped to take photos directly in front of South Sawyer Glacier just before the ship turned around to exit the fjord.)

Tracy Arm therefore provides the crucial link between Greenland and the Himalayas: Dickson Fjord demonstrated the extraordinary power of a collapse in an almost uninhabited wilderness. Tracy Arm demonstrated how a similar event can threaten a heavily visited landscape, even without a permanent population in the immediate hazard zone. The difference was not simply geological; it was a matter of human exposure and timing.

Langtang Lirung, Nepal (2026): A Collapsing Tower Becomes an Inland Tsunami

On August 26, 2026, a catastrophic ice-and-rock collapse near Langtang Lirung, along the Nepal–Tibet border, triggered a devastating downstream cascade. A massive hanging glacier and adjacent bedrock failed, sending enormous quantities of debris into a steep alpine valley.

Rather than entering a confined marine fjord, the collapsing mass plunged into a river system. Rock, ice, water, and sediment combined into a fast-moving debris flow that surged downstream along the Trishuli River corridor, destroying infrastructure and communities. The disaster affected a strategically important border region, including the Gyirong–Rasuwagadhi trade corridor, and created additional hazards as water and debris accumulated in unstable barriers and temporary lakes.

The consequences were dramatically different from those in Greenland and Alaska. The Himalayan collapse struck a populated corridor connected to settlements, transportation networks, trade infrastructure, and communities dependent on vulnerable mountain rivers. The disaster resulted in mass casualties, with the full toll complicated by the large number of people reported missing.

This was not simply a conventional flash flood, nor the familiar scenario of a glacial lake suddenly bursting through a moraine dam. It was a cascading geological failure in which a collapsing mountain mass generated a destructive torrent downstream.

The distinction matters. Early-warning systems that focus on known glacial lakes may not adequately account for unstable bedrock, hanging glaciers, or the possibility that a sudden landslide will create its own flood-generating conditions. In a steep Himalayan valley, the interval between the initial collapse and downstream destruction may be measured in minutes rather than hours.

The Himalayas also introduce a geopolitical dimension. Rivers, trade routes, and emergency-response requirements cross borders, while political tensions can complicate the rapid exchange of information. When a natural disaster strikes before its cause is understood, uncertainty itself can become a security risk.

Three Collapses, Three Human Geographies

Taken together, the cases reveal a continuum of danger.

Dickson Fjord was a spectacular geological event in a remote wilderness. Its initial tsunami and nine-day seismic signature demonstrated that an isolated mountain collapse can produce planetary-scale observations without a comparable human catastrophe.

Tracy Arm was a near miss in a landscape frequented by tourists and recreational users. The extraordinary tsunami runup demonstrated that a remote-looking fjord can become a mass-casualty hazard when human activity overlaps with an unstable mountainside.

Langtang Lirung demonstrated the devastating potential of the same broad family of hazards when a collapsing mountain feeds directly into an inhabited river corridor. Here, the effects extended into public safety, transport, trade, emergency response, and transboundary relations.

These differences caution against treating all geological collapses as interchangeable. Their consequences depend on the mass and composition of the material released, the geometry of the landscape, the presence of water, the speed and direction of the resulting flow, and the number of people and critical facilities in its path.

Nevertheless, the three cases share a troubling feature: each reveals how rapidly a geological process can escape the boundaries within which conventional institutions expect to manage risk.

Between “Arctic Doom” and “Arctic Boom,” Part 2: Inuit Autonomy and Sovereign Restoration: Nunavut and Greenlandic Self-Rule

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Books, Current Events, History, Liberty, Philosophy, Politics , , ,

This historical march culminated in two massive geopolitical shifts at the turn of the century: the creation of Nunavut in the Canadian Arctic and the steady march toward independence in Greenland. As I detailed in my 2021 article in Nordicum-Mediterraneum, (“High Stakes in the High North: Alternative Models for Greenland’s Ongoing Constitutional and Political Transformation”), these cases demonstrate a total integration of Second and Fourth Image power. By gaining control over public territorial governments, the Inuit secured a direct seat at both national and international tables. Rather than acting as standard ethnic minorities lobbying a dominant state from the margins, they transformed their organic authority into modern institutional statecraft through their local demographic predominance.

The Nunavut Precedent: Redrawing the Map of Canada (1999)

The launch of Nunavut on April 1, 1999, represented the largest peaceful redrawing of the global political map in the late 20th century. Born directly from the landmark 1993 Nunavut Land Claims Agreement, it fundamentally upended Canadian federalism.

  • The Power Shift: Unlike standard ethnic self-governance models, Nunavut was established through a public government structure. Because the Inuit comprise roughly 85% of the territory’s population, this public model naturally functions as a de facto Indigenous jurisdiction.
  • Institutionalizing the Fourth Image: Nunavut systematically integrated Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit (traditional ecological knowledge and societal values) directly into public policy, environmental co-management, and territorial legislation. Through this model, the Inuit demonstrated that an organic polity could successfully assume control over an entire sub-national territory, pairing comprehensive land title with real legislative authority.

Greenland’s Path to Sovereignty: From Home Rule to Constitutional Drafts

Simultaneously, Greenland (Kalaallit Nunaat) has blazed a trail toward full post-colonial statehood, progressively expanding its autonomy away from Copenhagen.

  • Evolution of Autonomy: The foundation was laid with Home Rule in 1979, which was significantly expanded by the Self-Government Act of 2009. This historic act legally recognized Greenlanders as a distinct people under international law and granted them the explicit right to self-determination, recognizing Kalaallisut as the sole official language and transferring authority over vast subsea and mineral resources.
  • The Modern Push for Independence: This political evolution reached a historic milestone when Greenland’s Constitutional Commission delivered its official Draft Constitution to the Inatsisartut (Greenlandic Parliament). Asserting that the Greenlandic people must always be self-determining, the draft outlines a future sovereign state built firmly upon Inuit principles, collective rights, and the common ownership of land and seas.
  • “Nothing About Us Without Us”: The confidence of this modern Fourth Image power is clearly articulated in Greenland’s historic foreign and security strategy, Greenland in the World: Nothing About Us Without Us. It explicitly demands an independent seat at the international table, demonstrating that Greenlandic Inuit no longer view themselves as passive strategic real estate. Instead, they are confident, forward-looking actors fully prepared to leverage the economic and maritime realities of a thawing Arctic to secure their ultimate independence.

The Four Tiers of Power in Action

In observing how the Inuit navigate the opportunities and challenges of climate change, my research identifies a multi-tiered toolkit operating across four distinct scales:

Tribal and Local Power

At the municipal and community scale, Inuit have focused on tactical adaptation. As the thinning of sea ice threatens hunters, local communities utilize programs like SmartICE—combining remote-sensing technology with traditional knowledge to map ice thickness in real time. Local hunter and trapper organizations (HTOs) adjust harvesting seasons and quotas instantly, bypassing sluggish federal bureaucracies to make real-time conservation decisions on the ground.

Regional Power

At the regional scale, the co-management boards created by comprehensive land claims act as regulatory gatekeepers. When shipping conglomerates seek to route ships through the Northwest Passage, or mining companies propose operations on the tundra, they must submit to regional environmental review boards.

These boards hold the statutory power to halt projects or impose strict operational conditions, ensuring that industrial development does not disrupt critical wildlife habitats. As I analyzed in “Co-management as a Foundation of Arctic Exceptionalism: Strengthening the Bonds between the Indigenous and Westphalian Worlds” in The Yearbook of Polar Law (2022), this co-management model functions as the primary foundation of “Arctic Exceptionalism,” bridging the indigenous and Westphalian worlds.

Territorial Power

At the territorial scale, the Inuit use their legislative majorities to influence national defense and economic strategies. As I have long observed, Western states cannot defend their northern frontiers without the deep cooperation of the indigenous population; the Inuit presence provides the human footprint that validates sovereign state claims.

The Inuit leverage this geopolitical reality to demand structural investments. They ensure that new defense installations, deep-water ports, or monitoring stations are dual-use—serving national security while providing local communities with green energy grids, internet connectivity, and marine safety infrastructure.

Transnational Power

Globally, the Inuit project power through the Inuit Circumpolar Council (ICC), an international NGO representing approximately 180,000 Inuit across Alaska, Canada, Greenland, and Chukotka (Russia). Within the Arctic Council, the ICC holds the status of a Permanent Participant.

As I explore in my recently updated chapters for the Palgrave Handbook of Arctic Policy and Politics (2nd Edition, 2026) (“Northward State Expansion and Indigenous Response: A Globally Integrated Arctic Borderland Emerges from Synthesis of ‘Northern Frontier’ and ‘Northern Homeland'” and “500 Years of Arctic Multinationals: From Colonial Chartered Companies to Contemporary Co-Management and Collaborative Governance,“ the deep historical integration of Arctic indigenous voices over the last five centuries has been a stabilizing anchor.

Even during our present era of increasing interstate polarization, this deep institutional representation of the Fourth Image continues to preserve the cooperative equilibrium of the far north. Through the ICC, the Inuit have effectively reframed the global climate debate, turning a technical discussion of resource access into an existential issue of human rights and cultural survival.

Balancing Risks and Strategic Opportunities

The core thesis of my work is that the opening of the Arctic presents a complex matrix of deep environmental hazards and unprecedented strategic possibilities, both of which the Inuit approach with a pragmatic, clear-eyed focus.

Resiliency Over Vulnerability

The Inuit do not deny the severity of ecological disruptions. Permafrost thaw damages their housing, buckles runways, and erodes coastal villages like Shishmaref, Alaska. In my edited volume analyzing the strategic and political impacts of Arctic climate change, The Fast-Changing Arctic: Rethinking Arctic Security for a Warming World (2013), I observe that climate change remains a grave and gathering threat to northern human security. However, Arctic history has been defined by cultural resilience and technological adaptation. As the polar thaw erodes geophysical foundations of Arctic communities, Inuit are responding proactively and creatively by deploying advanced engineering to design houses with adjustable foundations, and investing in community-owned greenhouses to diversify food supplies.

Controlling the “Arctic Boom”

While some southern environmentalists call for the Arctic to be closed off and turned into a global protected green space, Inuit view such well-meaning idealistic demands as a continuation of colonial paternalism, known locally as “green colonialism.” A closed Arctic preserves economic dependency.

As the retreat of sea ice opens new and long-imagined maritime trade routes and make accessible mineral deposits essential for the global green transition, the Inuit increasingly position themselves as equity partners in these forward-looking developments rather than passive observers. In Nunavut, for instance, major resource projects operate under explicit Inuit Impact and Benefit Agreements (IIBAs). This ensures that resource extraction yields direct employment, royalty payments, and environmental veto power, converting the “Arctic boom” into a financial foundation for their sovereign restoration.

Conclusion: A New Paradigm for Sovereignty in the Age of Arctic Climate Change

Ultimately, my historic and theoretical exploration of the circumpolar world reveals that the story of the modern Arctic is not a tragedy of “Arctic doom,” but a compelling demonstration of the Fourth Image in action, navigating prudently between fears of “Arctic doom” and hopes of “Arctic boom.” Inuit have proven that an organic, indigenous polity without a state of its own can master the tools of modern law, international diplomacy, and corporate finance to rewrite the rules of northern sovereignty through a subnational and transnational lens. From a northern perspective, climate justice and security are both achieved with the assertion of the right to self-determination amidst a changing environment, and northerners’ capacity to chart their own path between the dueling dialectical poles of Arctic doom and boom.

By weaving local, regional, territorial, and transnational powers into a unified strategy, Inuit ensure that the historic opening of the Arctic will serve their own emancipation. As the ice recedes, it reveals not a world in collapse but instead a world on the cusp of rebirth as an autonomous, highly organized, and self-governing homeland—proving that the future of the Arctic will not be decided for Inuit, but by Inuit.

Between “Arctic Doom” and “Arctic Boom,” Part 1: Navigating a Path to a Secure, Prosperous and Free Arctic

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Books, Current Events, Liberty, Philosophy, Politics , , , ,

For four decades, my research into the geopolitical and geophysical transformation of the circumpolar north has challenged the persistent misconception of an inevitable, apocalyptic impending “Arctic doom.” In my books and articles examining the region’s security, governance, and environmental transformation—well illustrated in my third book, Arctic Doom, Arctic Boom: The Geopolitics of Climate Change in the Arctic (2009)—I have argued that the global imagination routinely misreads the polar world.

To the southern world, the Arctic has too-frequently been cast as being locked in a static, perpetually passive, frozen inertial state. It is viewed either through a state-centric realist lens as an open chessboard for renewed great-power competition, or by mainstream climate idealists and environmental activists as a tragic casualty of climate change where indigenous cultures are destined to dissolve alongside the polar pack ice.

But when we look closely at the complex structural and climatological realities on the ground (and thawing polar ice), a profoundly different narrative emerges. What climate pessimists diagnose as an impending apocalypse, I have conceptualized as a more ambiguous dialectic that oscillates between the poles of “Arctic doom” and “Arctic boom.” This presents the potential for both risk and opportunity, fear and hope, and recognizes the agency for Inuit to mitigate the former while leveraging the latter. It is an unfolding era of dynamic political, legal, and institutional development that has empowered Arctic indigenous peoples to assert their own agency.

As I explored in my 2020 chapter contribution to the Palgrave Handbook of Arctic Policy and Politics (“State Expansion and Indigenous Response in the Arctic: A Globally Integrated Northern Borderland Emerges from the Historical Synthesis of Northern Frontier and Northern Homeland”) the retreat of the ice is breaking the handcuffs of a long Ice Age. For millennia, extreme cold has acted as a physical barrier, freezing the Arctic in a state of extreme geographical isolation, and since the colonial era, has increasingly rendered its inhabitants structurally dependent on distant southern metropoles.

To understand how the Inuit can navigate the current transition under way, we must expand the traditional boundaries of International Relations (IR) theory. Scholars have long relied on Kenneth Waltz’s classic “Three Images” of world politics (the individual, the state, and the anarchic international system). Having studied under Waltz, I posited in On Thin Ice: The Inuit, the State, and the Challenge of Arctic Sovereignty (2009), which came to press 50 years after his paradigmatic dissertation came to press as the IR theory classic Man, the State and War, that these categories possess a fundamental blind spot regarding northern realities.

To explain the Arctic, we must look through the lens of what I call the Fourth Image: the tribal or indigenous level of analysis. The Inuit operate as an organic polity—a non-state, transnational nation whose governance structures grow naturally out of ancestral occupancy, ecological co-management, and modern land claims. They do not wait for sovereign states to grant them agency. Instead, they actively project Fourth Image power across four distinct, intersecting tiers of governance to achieve what they define as climate justice.

Theoretical Framework: The Fourth Image and the Organic Polity

The primary flaw of traditional IR theory is its presumed state-centric monopoly. When standard analysts look at the Arctic through the third image, they map an open chessboard where sovereign states vie for maritime shipping routes and subsea energy reserves. When they look through the second image, they focus on the domestic legislative agendas of Ottawa, Washington, Copenhagen, or Moscow. My research—culminating most recently in Arctic Exceptionalism: Cooperation in a Contested World (2024)—challenges this state-centric bias by identifying the Fourth Image as a permanent, stabilizing feature of northern geopolitics.

The Nature of the Organic Polity

Unlike the modern nation-state, which relies on artificial borders superimposed on the landscape by colonial powers, the Inuit polity is organic. Its foundations are rooted in continuous occupancy, ancestral use, and a sophisticated body of traditional ecological knowledge (Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit). As I noted in my 2021 Arctic Yearbook analysis, “Arctic Indigenous peoples and the state—Toward a universal convergence,” this polity is not a pre-modern relic. Over the last half-century, the Inuit have systematically codified their organic authority into modern legal treaties, co-management boards, native-owned corporations, and self-governing territories. As I first traced in Breaking the Ice: From Land Claims to Tribal Sovereignty in the Arctic (2008), they have forged a pragmatic synthesis between the tribe and the state, transforming themselves from historical subjects into active co-sovereigns of the northern hemisphere.

The Dynamics of the “Arctic Spring”

This theoretical outlook informs how the Inuit approach environmental change. Mainstream Western environmentalism frames climate change as a pure tragedy. The Inuit perspective, however, operates on a deeper historical scale. They have survived multiple major climatological shifts over tens of thousands of years as ice ages have come and gone. While they recognize the severe structural risks introduced by a warming climate—such as unstable sea ice and thawing permafrost—they also recognize that the “Arctic Spring” dissolves their physical isolation. As I wrote in Arctic Doom, Arctic Boom (2009), today’s transformative polar thaw is the beginning of the final chapter of the Earth’s previous ice age, which held both the geophysical Arctic and its inhabitants prisoner to its forbidding climate.

The polar thaw brings the global economy directly to their doorstep, transforming the Arctic from a remote cul-de-sac into a central maritime corridor. From the Inuit standpoint, climate justice is not defined by freezing the Arctic in a permanent, romanticized past. It means possessing the political, legal, and economic architecture to govern this newly accessible frontier, illustrated by the 2024 release of Greenland’s very first Arctic strategy, “Greenland in the World: Nothing: Nothing About Us Without Us,” which presents a pragmatic, confident and unapologetically optimistic outlook on the changing Arctic—and the new opportunities it presents for Inuit agency and autonomy.

The Historical Architecture of Inuit Empowerment

The modern capacity of the Inuit to navigate climate change is the product of decades of structural resistance and sophisticated legal mobilization. Throughout the mid-to-late 20th century, as Cold War militarization and resource exploration accelerated, the Inuit established a legal fortress to protect their way of life.

The Alaskan Breakthrough (1971)

The modern era of Fourth Image empowerment in the Arctic began in Alaska. As I have noted in my historical analyses across Breaking the Ice (2008) and On Thin Ice (2009), the discovery of oil at Prudhoe Bay in 1968 forced an unprecedented confrontation (and ultimately, convergence) between the United States government, multinational corporations, and Alaska Native tribes.

The resulting Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) of 1971 eschewed the traditional, paternalistic reservation system. Instead, it pioneered a corporate model, establishing twelve regional and over two hundred local village corporations, transferring 44 million acres of land and nearly one billion dollars directly to Indigenous ownership. Through corporate structures like the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (ASRC), the Inuit turned capital into an instrument of self-determination, gaining the financial independence necessary to fund local infrastructure and lobby federal authorities.

The Canadian Evolution: From Co-management to Collaborative Sovereignty

While ANCSA focused heavily on land title and corporate equity, it initially lacked explicit provisions for political self-government and structured resource co-management. Canada’s northern policy addressed these structural omissions by introducing a collaborative governance paradigm. The breakthrough came with the James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA) of 1975. As the first modern land claim treaty in Canada, the JBNQA served as a vital laboratory for institutionalizing co-management and regional municipal self-government for the Inuit of Nunavik and the Cree of James Bay. It fundamentally paired environmental protection with indigenous veto power over massive industrial developments.

Building directly upon the structural precedents of the JBNQA, the Inuvialuit Final Agreement (IFA) of 1984 consolidated this model in the Northwest Territories. The IFA refined the early co-management designs of the 1970s by implementing formal, joint-statutory boards composed of equal numbers of Inuvialuit and government representatives. As I argued in The Polar Journal, this specific framework pioneered tribe-state collaboration to moderate great power friction (2020). These bodies hold binding regulatory authority over wildlife, environmental impacts, and industrial licensing—securing the interplay of traditional knowledge and Western science as a constitutional guarantee.

Lit in Review: Things that move people

Derrill Watson Economics, History , , , , , , , ,

Three papers from this year’s American Economic Journal: Economic Policy deal with shocks that change people’s willingness to migrate to another location. As usual with these, I’m reporting on recent research results that readers might find interesting, but I’m not otherwise commenting.

Nian and Wang, “Go with the Politician”

In a study of crony capitalism in China: when a Chinese local leader is transferred from one prefecture to another, large firms in the old prefecture buy up 3x more land than average in the new prefecture at half the normal price. These land parcels show lower use efficiency afterwards. For the last 30 years, land sales make up 60% of local government revenue. There is no effect going the opposite direction (firms in the new prefecture buying land in the old one) and there is no effect when that politician subsequently moves to the next prefecture.

Moretti and Wilson, “Taxing Billionaires: Estate Taxes and the Geographical Location of the Ultra-Wealthy”

Following the Forbes 400 richest Americans from 1981-2017, it is clear that they are very likely to move away from states with estate taxes, particularly as they get older. They “find a sharp and economically large increase in estate tax revenues in the three years after a Forbes billionaire’s death.” Putting the two effects together, they find that it is still profitable for most states to adopt estate taxes despite some departures with a cost/benefit ratio of 0.69.

Liu, Shamdasani, and Taraz, “Climate Change and Labor Reallocation: Evidence from Six Decades of the Indian Census”

A panel fixed-effect model looking at how the climate changed decade by decade shows that fewer Indian workers move from rural to urban or ag to non-ag firms within a district, but no effect on movement between districts. They also show this comes from changes in demand patterns: higher temperatures lower rural yields and incomes, so they buy less from non-ag sectors, which reduces the demand for non-ag labor. These effects are larger in districts with fewer roads and/or less access to the formal banking sector.

A couple of Monday Links

Michalis Trepas Links , , , ,

Climate Collaborations in the Arctic Are Frozen Amid War (Undark)

A War of World-Building (City Journal)

Nightcap

Brandon Christensen Links , , ,
  1. Property rights imply social liability, not privilege Rosolino Candela, EconLog
  2. The lingering scars of World War I Cal Flyn, Atlas Obscura
  3. Is the Arctic turning blue? (hawkish) Sonoko Kuhara, Diplomat
  4. Myanmar (or is it Burma?) Zachary Abuza, War on the Rocks

My Pick-Up Truck and the Quality of Global Warming Reports

Jacques Delacroix Current Events , , ,

The struggle against climate change is making fast policy progress in the civilized world. It’s got to the point where I can foresee the authorities confiscating my good Toyota pick-up truck that has given me good service for eight years and continues to act just right. In California, they make no mystery of their intent to force me to replace it with a small electric sedan I won’t be able to afford. In the meantime, the same California is not able to guarantee enough electric power to keep my light bulbs lit 24/7; another story, obviously, a good one.

My problem is that I have not changed my stance on the credibility of the climate change narrative since I bought the truck. So, I feel tyrannized.

Recently, there was a long lasting, intense heat wave in the western United States where several people died of heat stroke. As I write, severe flooding seems to be ending in Germany, in Belgium, and in France. In the first country, at least one hundred people drowned.

Being a retired old guy, I listen to the media, or watch it, or read from it a good portion of the day. I do this daily, in at least two languages, English and French. There isn’t a day in my life when I don’t hear heat waves, or floods, or this and that blamed on “climate change.” The media personalities and journalists who assert those links all have one thing in common: None possesses the credentials to judge whether such a link exists at all. Climate change ideology has spread so successfully that every Dick, Tom, and Harry with a B.A. in Communications (or less) feels free to pronounce on such causal relationships as if they were simply mentioning that the sun rises in the east. Well, it’s not like this at all, not by a long shot.

Before I go on, we need a reminder: I mean by “climate change”: the narrative that includes all three statements below:

1 the climate is changing significantly in ways that affect people adversely;

2 this change is due to human activity and specifically the release of so-called “greenhouse gases,” (Human activity includes such things as manufacturing, reliance internal combustion engines, including in cars, cattle raising);

3 the adverse effects are such that we, collectively, need to address them right now.

Baselines Climate Change Advocates endlessly publicize: hottest year in 37 years, or most hurricanes in a period of two years since 1920, or highest tide since 1882. All such announcements are worthless and therefore misleading. There is no evidence of change without a baseline and the baseline has to make sense. It cannot be picked opportunistically, of course (as was done on the occasion of the “hockey stick” scandal; look it up). It cannot be selected mindlessly. Let me give you areal example. It may well be that the Greenland glaciers are melting unusually fast. And, of course, it could be a result of human caused global warming (oops, climate change). But, we know – because a noted environmentalist told us (Jared Diamond) – that the Norse inhabitants of Greenland were raising cattle there around 1100. You can’t do this today in Greenland because it’s too cold. So, if it was warmer there a thousand years ago, what’s left of the inference that it’s what happened in only the past 150 years of Industrial Revolution, etc (make it 160, 200, no matter) that produces the heat that melts glaciers? My point here is that what you infer from change observed from a bad baseline is not only a little off; it’s simply wrong. Climate Change enthusiasts and passive believers alike do this all the time. They also don’t accept corrections based on a more reasonable baseline.

Measurements The Climate Change narrative is chronically plagued with measurement issues and downright falsehoods. If you want to tell me anything about the condition of my house and you begin with a statement to the effect that one wall has sunk by 240 inches without my noticing, you are done; I have no reason to listen to anything else you have to say. Be gone!

I don’t normally read scholarly research supporting the climate change narrative. I shouldn’t have to. I am just a citizen. If you want me to alter my life drastically, it’s up to you to give me good reasons in a language I can grasp without two or three doctorates (additional doctorates, in my case). I do read the reports made of it by non-scholarly sources that I think intellectually respectable. The Wall Street Journal is one. (More on this below.)

Here, there are two nested problems with ways to assess climate events commonly found in the media. People have a tendency to confirm what they hear by saying, Yes, it’s never been so hot, ever. The first problem is that when this is said, the reference is almost always to the person’s personal experience. That can seldom exceed 90 years, a period insufficient to cover anything blamed on the 150-plus years since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. The second problem is that, obviously, almost everyone has bad memory and forgets events at random. Here is an example: When I was a small child, I remember distinctly newspaper photographs of the sea frozen in the English channel, together with one radio comment to the same effect. My siblings living at the same time in the same place, remember no such thing. They have forgotten or I have produced a fabricated memory. Either way….

This past weekend’s Wall Street Journal takes apart a more sophisticated kind of measurement fallacy, one committed by a fairly respected federal agency. (Roger Pielke Jr, WSJ; 7/17-18/21; p. C4.) The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration announced that natural disasters causing one billion dollars of damage or more were seven times more numerous in 2020 than they were in 1980. The NOAA adjusted for inflation, of course. It did not compare 1980 dollars with 2020 dollar. Good enough, right? Not so. How much damage a given disaster causes depends on its severity but it also depends on how much is available to be damaged. There is incomparably more value to be obliterated today in America than there was in 1980. The same tornado occurring on the same day in the middle of the Sonora desert will cause much less damage than it would in Time Square, perhaps a million times less. That’s not a small error. The NOAA mistake is monumentally misleading. If you corrected for the amount available to be damaged, you might find that there was actually seven times more destruction in 1980 than in 2020. (I am not accusing anyone, except of gross incompetence. It’s not all bad faith.)

To aggravate again the severity of my judgment is the fact that real scientists with real credentials almost never step out of the ivory tower to condemn publicly the thousands of false statements made in their name every day.

Things have not changed much in eight years with respect to credibility. I don’t have any reason to change my mind and to consider the narrative favorably because it has not improved in rigor or in accuracy. They may be able to tear me off the seat of my pick-up truck but that will not alter my judgment that the repression is based on snake oil merchandising and on primitive superstitions. Yes, you can quote me.

If We Ignore Climate Change Horrible Things are Gonna Happen…

Jacques Delacroix Current Events , , ,

There is a good chance American society will soon be committed to huge new expenditures based on the urgency to do something about the anticipated ravages of climate change. Some of the monster amounts (in trillions) the Biden administration is asking for will, in fact, be spent on making everything in sight electric, especially (but not limited to) automobiles. This is happening at a time when fossil fuels prices are near a historical low and we, in the US, are awash in clean energy in the form of natural gas and nuclear power. There is no “proven reserves” limitations on either as there was in my youth with respect to petroleum, for example. (You read that right. When I was thirty, the “proven reserves of petroleum,” oil in the ground, were a fraction of the amount of petroleum we have actually extracted and used since then!)

As a fairly idle retired old dude, I follow a variety of media almost copiously. I do it daily in two languages, English and French. In both languages, the news and a wide variety of programs, including practically all documentaries, take the reality of “climate change” as unquestioned and unquestionable. In my heart though, I am sure the French anchor and the American news commentator who casually mention “climate change” have only the vaguest idea of what the two magic words mean. I would bet large amounts on my guess.

This whole thing puzzles me because it seems to me the quasi-religious zeal that used to accompany the mention of most climate topics has abated a lot in, say, ten years. Perhaps, it’s because successful religions need not be clamorous. Still it perplexes me that millions, in America and world-wide, are accepting the prospect of multi-generational debt and probably of a reduced standard of living in the absence of a clear explanation of what events/developments they are avoiding through such meek assent.

I, for one, have not come across an explanation although I almost certainly spend more time with the media than most well educated people. I am aware that the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change threatens us with a one degree centigrade rise in mean global temperatures before the end of this century if we don’t mend our collective ways. (Or, is it 1.5 C? I don’t care to check. See why below.) I tend to think that that which cannot be expressed with figures probably should not become the object of government policy. And if it does, it should only come to the attention of local government whose subjectivity I understand best. But the warnings on climate change are often in fact expressed in a quantitative manner. This one, at least, satisfies my criterion, this criterion, this way: one degree centigrade (or, maybe, 1.5 C).

What is discreetly but stubbornly missing in the associated narrative is this: Why should I care? If the +one C. change happened even suddenly, say, within ten minutes, it wouldn’t be enough to cause me to go and get a sweater. I doubt it would even be sufficient to get me to roll down my sleeves.

So, please, Ms. and Mr. Media (and yous and theys) try to remember to remind me of what horrors are awaiting us if we don’t mind climate change enough. Please, limit yourselves to whatever noxious effects have clear and fairly abundant scientific backing (say, two published studies in double-blind refereed journals). Please, include the references or, better, links, so that I and my fellow “deniers” can try and read the studies if the spirit so moves me and us. And no, I shouldn’t have to be on my own to go searching for the scientific backing that you keep implying supports your (your) beliefs that I, we, don’t share, at this point. If you don’t do so, at least once in a while, it proves that your ideas are bankrupt. It also means that the giant expenditures you are forcing on us are based on wanton lies.

One last thing: Don’t bother lecturing me on clean air and clean water; I am in favor of both. And, I agree that we use too much plastic.

Biden’s Summit on Climate and Xi’s Belt and Road Initiative

Tridivesh Singh Maini Current Events , , , , , ,

Introduction 

US President Joe Biden hosted a Summit on Climate (April 22-23, 2021) which was attended by 40 world leaders, including Chinese President Xi Jinping. Ever since taking over as President, Biden has sent out a strong message that the US would take a leadership role as far as climate issues are concerned. During his address at the Summit, the US President also dubbed this decade as decisive. Said Biden: 

Scientists tell us that this is the decisive decade – this is the decade we must make decisions that will avoid the worst consequences of the climate crisis. 

Under the Trump Administration, the US had withdrawn from the Paris Agreement, while one of Biden’s first steps was getting the US to re-join the Paris Agreement, and he has also made a commitment of $1.2 billion to a Green Climate Fund.  Another important component of Biden’s climate change agenda includes an infrastructural package, which seeks to invest in clean energy transition. The Biden Administration has also been laying emphasis on creating clean energy jobs, and greater investment in Research and Development (R and D) related to clean energy. 

US-China scope for cooperation? 

While ties between US and China have witnessed a serious deterioration in recent weeks, Chinese President Xi Jinping attended the Climate Change Summit. Days before the Climate Summit, Xi, while addressing the Boao Forum at Hainan, was critical of the US for promoting a cold war mentality, but did clearly leave the door open for cooperation with the US in dealing with common challenges posed by climate change.

In spite of the downward spiral in bilateral relations, Biden and members of his administration have also repeatedly stated that there is scope for the US and China to work together.

Biden’s Climate Change envoy, John Kerry, had visited China earlier this month, and during the course of his trip exchanged notes with China’s special envoy for climate change, Xie Zhenhua. A joint statement released by both sides stated: 

The United States and China are committed to cooperating with each other and with other countries to tackle the climate crisis, which must be addressed with the seriousness and urgency that it demands,

An invitation to Chinese President Xi Jinping to attend the Summit was extended during Kerry’s visit, though China did not give any confirmation (Xi gave his confirmation to attend the Summit one day before).

Agenda of the Summit

During the summit, the US President made a commitment that US would reduce its greenhouse gas emissions by around 50% below its 2005 emissions levels, by 2030. (Former US President Barack Obama had made a commitment to reducing emissions around 26-28% by 2025.) Biden’s announcement has been hailed by some, and being cited as a reiteration of the point that Biden wants to show the way on climate change. Biden’s announcement may be opposed by certain quarters within the US who feel that the US should not be compelled to reduce emissions drastically.

Before the Summit, China had made it clear that it would not toe the US line. During John Kerry’s China visit the Chinese Vice Foreign Minister, Le Yusheng, said:  

Some countries are asking China to achieve the goals earlier. I am afraid this is not very realistic.

While addressing the summit, Chinese President Xi Jinping reiterated a commitment he had made last year while addressing the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA): that China would achieve carbon neutrality by 2060, and to peak carbon emissions by 2030. He reiterated the need for global cooperation. 

How Biden and Xi linked their commitment to environment with their economic visions 

What was interesting was that both Biden and Xi Jinping also linked the climate goals to their economic goals. Xi Jinping spoke about a focus on a ‘green’ Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Interestingly, the mega connectivity project, often dubbed as China’s ‘Marshall Plan,’ has often been criticised not just for its lack of transparency, but also for the fact that it is not environmentally friendly (in fact many observers have argued that Biden’s infrastructural plan is a counter to China’s BRI).

Biden has repeatedly spoken about creating clean jobs and infrastructure and repeated the same during his address. 

Conclusion

In conclusion, while Washington-Beijing ties are likely to face numerous strains, climate change seems to be one area where there is space for cooperation between the two. While the US under Biden is likely to follow a significantly different approach from that under Trump, China is unlikely to budge from its commitments. What would be interesting to see is whether Beijing actually addresses criticisms of the BRI not being environmentally friendly. While China and the US may find some common ground on climate change, it is likely that the Biden administration, given its focus on the environment, may come down more harshly on the BRI and may come up with an alternative.

Cave Paintings and Elementary Science

Jacques Delacroix Current Events , , , , , ,

This is a travel story of sorts of travel through time, to an extent. Be patient.

Directly to the east of Marseille, the second largest city in France are a series of beautiful, narrow coves, like fjords, situated in a sort of desert. They are called “calanques” in French. They are accessible only by sea or through a long walk on hot rocky ground. Although they constitute a separate world, the calanques are close to Marseille, as the crow flies. They used to be a major fishing resource for the city. You can be sure they were never forgotten during the 2600 years of the city’s existence. Also, the city was founded by Greeks and thus, it always had a literate population, one that kept records.

Marseille and its environs are where SCUBA was invented, the first practical solution to the problem of men breathing underwater. Accordingly, the calanques were always and thoroughly explored after 1950. In 1985, one of the co-inventors of SCUBA discovered a deep cave in one of the calanques. He couldn’t resist temptation and swam into it until he reached a large room emerging above the water level. I mean a cave where he could stand and breathe regular air. The explorer’s name was Cosquer.

Cosquer visited several times without saying a word about his discovery. Soon, he observed dozens of beautiful wall paintings belonging to two distinct periods on the upper walls of his cave. The art of the first period was mostly hand imprints or stencils. The art of the second, distinct period, comprised 170-plus beautiful animals including many horses, ibex and others mammals, also fish, seals and other sea creatures. Archeologists think the painting of the first period were done about in about 25,000 BC, those of the latter period date back to about 18,000 BC, they believe.

Today, the entrance to the cave is about 125 feet below sea level. We know that paleolithic men did not have SCUBA. They simply walked into the cave for their own reasons, with their own purposes in mind. Thus, the sea level was at least 125 feet lower then than it is today. The people of Marseille never saw the cave. They would have written about it. There would be records. They would not have forgotten it. They simply did not know of its existence during the past 2600 years or so, since the foundation of their city.

Sometime in the past 20,000 years, the sea rose 125 feet or more. That’s an amplitude several times greater than any of the direst predictions of the official United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change for the next century. The IPCC squarely blames a future ocean rise (one that has not been observed at all, yet) on abnormal emission of several gases, especially CO2. These abnormal emissions in turn, the IPCC affirms, are traceable to human activities such as driving cars and producing many useful things by burning fossil fuels.

It seems to me that basic good science requires that causal analysis begin with a baseline. In this case, it would mean something like this: In the absence of any burning of fossil fuels, the ocean rose 125 feet sometimes during the past 20,000 years. Let’s see if we can find evidence of the ocean rising above and beyond this order of magnitude since humanity began burning fossil fuels in large quantities.

The conclusion will likely be that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Hence, fossil fuel emissions are probably irrelevant to this particular issue. (This leaves open the possibility that such emissions are odious for some other reason. I mean CO2 is plant food. Too much CO2 may promote weed growth in our fields and gardens.)

The ocean is not currently rising and if it is, the existence of the Cosquer cave suggests that it’s rising to a minuscule degree. Let’s keep things in perspective. Let’s discard openly and loudly every part of the building of a complex hypothesis that does not work. Those who don’t take these obvious cleansing measures simply have a lot of explaining to do. They should not be allowed to wrap themselves in the mantle of science while violating Science 101 principles.

One of the conceits of the Warmist movement (re-branded “Climate Change” something or other) is that you don’t have a right to an opinion unless you possess a doctorate in Atmospheric Science. By this dictate, anybody who has to keep a job, raise children, or pay a mortgage is out of the discussion. This is the typical posturing of intellectual totalitarianism. Note what’s missing in the story above: It says nothing about what did cause the ocean to rise between 18,000 years ago and today. It’s enough to know that whatever it was, it was not the massive burning of fossil fuels. And, if factors other than burning fossil fuels explain large rises in sea level, they should first be applied to a tiny rises in sea rises before other explanations are tried. That’s just good practice.

The Cousquer cave story is now complete as is. Yes, that simple.

Nightcap

Brandon Christensen Links , , ,
  1. (De)centralized law-making and climate change Josephine van Zeben, SSRN
  2. A defense of maths in economics Chris Dillow, Stumbling & Mumbling
  3. The end of the world John Guzlowski, North American Review
  4. Small business in the urban riots of the 1960s (pdf) Jonathan Bean, TIR

Nightcap

Brandon Christensen Links , , ,
  1. “The calamities of this dreadful time” Sarah Skwire, Law & Liberty
  2. Collapse patchworks: a theory Chris Shaw, Libertarian Ideal
  3. Apocalypse never Jeremy Carl, Claremont Review of Books
  4. The Big Questions in economics (podcast) EconTalk

Nightcap

Brandon Christensen Links , , ,
  1. Pfizer-Biontech: Firstcomers and latecomers Irfan Khawaja, Policy of Truth
  2. Alienation and double-think Chris Dillow, Stumbling & Mumbling
  3. It’s not just housing… Scott Sumner, EconLog
  4. Winters in medieval Europe Lucie Laumonier, Medievalists

Nightcap

Brandon Christensen Links , , ,
  1. Singapore’s quarrel over colonialism Stephen Dziedzic, Interpreter
  2. Extreme economies: failure Joakim Book, NOL
  3. A victory over Sweden’s colonialism? Carl & Laiti, Al Jazeera
  4. The wrong models of democratic socialism Jacques Delacroix, NOL