The Delta as wicked problem

duct tape and water

duct tape and water, courtesy Metropolitan Library System, used with permission, some rights reserved

It’s just geographical coincidence that Horst Rittel and Melvin Webber were at Berkeley in 1973 when they published their Dilemmas in a General Theory of Planning (pdf), less than 30 miles as the American white pelican flies from Sherman Island at the downstream mouth of the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta. But as we await tomorrow’s unveiling of the latest effort to fix the Delta, it’s worth revisiting Rittel and Webber, because I’ve seen few better case studies of “wicked problems” than this:

Policy problems cannot be definitively described. Moreover, in a pluralistic society there is nothing like the undisputable public good; there is no objective definition of equity; policies that respond to social problems cannot be meaningfully correct or false; and it makes no sense to talk about “optimal solutions” to social problems unless severe qualifications are imposed first. Even worse, there are no “solutions” in the sense of definitive and objective answers.

The most useful formulation of the “wicked problem” thesis, for me, involves two elements. The first is that one’s definition of the problem suggests the solution path. The second is that there is no unique problem definition, but rather multiple possible definitions, suggesting multiple different solution paths, based on the values and the interests of the person doing the defining.

Watching the Bay Delta Conservation Plan pre-show, as all the players stake out their ground prior to tomorrow’s announcement by the state of California and the Feds, has been to see Rittel and Webber reified. Consider a few of their criteria for what counts as a “wicked problem”, and how these criteria might apply here:

  • There is no definitive formulation of a wicked problem
  • Wicked problems have no stopping rule
  • There is no immediate and no ultimate test of a solution to a wicked problem
  • Every wicked problem can be considered a symptom of another problem

Nowhere is this more obvious than the valiant attempt by Californians to constrain the definition of the problem the BDCP is attempting to solve (quoted from the recent state-federal joint recommendations – pdf):

the two coequal goals of providing a more reliable water supply for California and protecting, restoring, and enhancing the Delta ecosystem

The explicit mantra – “coequal goals” – was an attempt to sidestep the core of the wicked problem – the lack of a definition. Was the ecological collapse of the Delta the problem? Or was it the lack of water supply reliability? Each problem definition, separately, suggested a different set of solutions. So the state’s political leadership tried to duct tape them together, really tightly.

In fact, the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta Reform Act of 2009 has a lot more duct-taped in. The protection and enhancement of the Delta itself (carefully defined in cultural, recreational and agricultural terms as “an evolving place”, for example), and some particularly critical language about state government’s policy to “improve the water conveyance system” and “to reduce reliance on the Delta in meeting California’s future water supply needs”.

“There is no problem,” one of the state’s smart senior water politics-policy people told me when I was out in California last year. “There are multiple problems.”

deBuys on the climatology of the New West

I don’t think we’ll recognize this:

One upshot will be the emergence of whole new ecologies. The landscape changes brought on by climate change are affecting areas so vast that many previous tenants of the land—ponderosa pines, for instance—cannot be expected to recolonize their former territory. Their seeds don’t normally spread far from the parent tree, and their seedlings require conditions that big, hot, open spaces don’t provide.

What will develop in their absence? What will the mountains and mesa tops of the New West look like? Already it is plain to see that scrub oak, locust, and other plants that reproduce by root suckers are prospering in places where the big pines used to stand. These plants can be burned to the ground and yet resprout vigorously a season later. One ecologist friend offers this advice, “If you have to be reincarnated as a plant in the West, try not to come back as a tree. Choose a clonal shrub, instead. The future looks good for them.”

 

The Colorado River. And tubeworms.

Is this Michelle Nijhuis piece on the Colorado River terrific because she’s willing to go against the grain and argue for an optimistic future?

[D]eputy secretary of the U.S. Department of the Interior David Hayes, ecologist Osvel Hinojosa Huerta of the Mexican conservation group Pronatura Noroeste and University of Arizona paleoclimatologist Jonathan Overpeck all described something that sounded suspiciously close to adult behavior. The outlook for climate and water supplies on the Colorado is grim and getting grimmer, they agreed, but the basin states have reached a few important cooperative agreements in recent years, and are even involved in promising discussions with Mexico about getting more water across the border and to the river’s dried-out delta.

I was skeptical. (That’s my job.) But Hayes, Hinojosa, and Overpeck each insisted, in public and in private, that the progress was real. Part of the reason, Hayes said, is that the veteran adversaries along the river have developed a grudging trust: “These people have worked together for so long,” he said, laughing and shaking his head. “They know each others’ tics, they know each others’ food preferences. They’re like a family.”

Or is it terrific because of tubeworms?

Cooperative relationships, he says, are especially important in harsh conditions: Deep-sea tubeworms, for example, lack mouths and guts, so they depend on colonies of obligate symbiotic bacteria to fix hydrogen sulfide into food for them. (See? I promised tubeworms.)

+1

pigeons redux

John Upton asked for suggestions about “your favorite plant, animal, pathogen or natural phenomenon” as blog topics. I suggested pigeons, and John did not disappoint:

[N]ew research suggests that pigeon racers could be constantly fueling the wild populations with physical prowess-imbuing genes, helping to spawn today’s urban super-pigeons.

University of Utah researchers studied the genes of hundreds of domestic and free-living pigeons in the United States in an effort to map their family tree. What they discovered, and reported in February in the journal Current Biology, was a free flow of genes from specially bred racing pigeons into the wild.

Anywhere from five to 20 percent of racing pigeons fail to complete any given race. Some fall prey to predators. But others may simply get lost, or choose to not return home, and then blend into wild populations, where they coo and carry on and breed with feral lovers.

Excellent drought context

Nancy Gardner at the Omaha World-Herald has done a nice job of placing the current US drought into context:

[W]hile a federal report released earlier this week ranks this as the largest drought in the lower 48 states since 1956, Fuchs cautions against making too many comparisons to the droughts of the 1950s and 1930s.

Those were decades that saw successive dry years, with cumulative impacts that were more severe than the nation is now experiencing, he said. Also, the U.S. has developed better farming practices and policies that protect against some of the devastation experienced by previous generations.

A better comparison, especially when it comes to the impact on agriculture, is the 1988 drought, he said.

 

about those levees

Increasingly, I’m seeing the Sacramento Delta argument turned, from the traditional water conveyance and water users v. fish frame to a focus on levees. Here’s the San Jose Mercury News editorial board:

The primitive conditions of the levees guarding the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta are shocking. The Delta is mostly below sea level. It provides water to 65 percent of Californians, including more than half of Silicon Valley, and those fragile levees are the only thing preventing salt water from San Francisco Bay from spoiling the fresh water flowing from the rivers.

Hundreds of miles of levees were built out of sand and dirt by immigrants, wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow load, in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Saying they’re primitive is kind. They are at extreme risk of collapsing in an earthquake or flood. State Sen. Joe Simitian, D-Palo Alto, calls them “California’s Katrina waiting to happen.”

But neither Brown nor the Legislature has even tried to expedite repairing the levees. Last week, the state ballot proposition for an $11 billion water bond was postponed again, this time until 2014. That’s fine because we can’t imagine that porker passing anyway, but the $1 billion in absolutely necessary repairs to the levees should have been done years ago.

 

Forget it, Jake.

There it is. Take it.

There it is. Take it.

If I had more time, I’d write a post about how Chinatown is just a movie, full of stuff that’s made up.

But it’s the end of week two of the Tour de France, so posting here’s been light, sorry. Distracted.

Can you believe it? We’re in the middle of a drought, and the water commissioner drowns. Only in L.A.

Betancourt honored

It’s no exaggeration to say my understanding of climate and desert ecosystems would be much the poorer without the many hours Julio Betancourt has generously shared, the many times my questions have been met with “Have you read this paper yet?” followed by an emailed pdf.

Just saw Julio’s been awarded this year’s Farouk El-Baz Award for Desert Research.

And of course, if you or some bright young person you know wants to learn more about Julio’s work, there’s a chapter about him in my book, The Tree Rings’ Tale.