From NASA’s Earth Observatory, Lake Powell at Hite this month compared to a year ago:
h/t David Appell
From NASA’s Earth Observatory, Lake Powell at Hite this month compared to a year ago:
h/t David Appell
Over at the Lane Center, a look at what the extra water on the Colorado River means:
While Colorado Basin water users had survived 11 years of drought without suffering shortages, simply by draining their two big reservoirs, US Bureau of Reclamation calculations raised the clear possibility that by next year, the first ever shortage declaration on the river would be needed, forcing Nevada and Arizona to cut back.
This year’s bounty has pushed that possibility off another three years at least.
I was really struck by something in this video. Not the PR message, though I’ve no doubt San Franciscan water the cleanest water in the whole world! No, it’s the remarkable beauty of water.
Water conservation poses a dilemma.
Let’s say you’re an American city that’s running into a serious drought problem. I don’t know, say for example you’re Galveston, Texas:
Authorities have banned outdoor watering in most Galveston County municipalities as Texas continues to grapple with its record drought.
In a letter this week, the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality instructed municipalities that draw water from the Brazos River Basin to enforce stricter limits on outdoor water use. The Brazos River Basin supplies water to the Gulf Coast Water Authority, which serves the cities of Galveston, Texas City, League City, La Marque and Hitchcock.
This is good, right? Serious problem, tough response.
Now let’s suppose that our hypothetical Galveston had been really effective over the years in conserving water, switching to outdoor landscaping that only needs the rain that falls from the sky. Suddenly, when drought hits, the community no longer has the wiggle room left by profligate outdoor landscaping. They’ve got nothing left to cut.
So good for you, Galveston, for being so wasteful. That left you with an “out” this year!
Headed out on my bike ride this morning, I spotted our neighbor, Farmer John, in the front yard working on his food patch, and rolled up on the sidewalk to chat. It’s a lovely little garden – big robust tomatoes, some melons and a couple of rows of big, healthy-looking corn. Lissa and I have been enjoying watching it rise all spring and summer, watching John lovingly tending it. But when I stopped to talk this morning, John was perplexed.
The corn stalks look great, with big tassels and leaves a sheen of green, but the ears just weren’t coming on very well. He pulled one off to show me, peeling back the husk to reveal a pretty anemic-looking ear of corn.
It’s a modern breed, sweet (he gave me a bite), but the kernels just weren’t developing the way he hoped. He thought maybe it wasn’t getting enough water, or maybe something wrong with the seeds he used. Hard to know.
We humans have been doing maize here for a long time. Old spindly dried remnants thousands of years old have been found in Tularosa Cave, for example. It’s interesting to think about what Farmer John’s frustration at a bad corn crop might have felt like back in the day, when it would have been his family’s primary source of food for the coming winter.
When I was a young reporter covering Pasadena City Hall, I wrote a lot about the municipal budget, reasoning that budgets are where governments most explicitly establish and act on their priorities. But it was frustrating, because I just had one budget – no real points of comparison. So I set out one year to find comparable cities and compare – how much Pasadena spent per capita on cops, streets, etc., compared to other cities. This being pre-Internet, my little exercise involved picking out a handful of comparable cities around the LA area and driving to their city halls to sit down with their budget people and collect and compare the numbers.
What I found was head-smackingly obvious in retrospect. There was some fiddliness about how the governments allocated their money, and fiddliness with bonding, but basically cities that had greater revenue (mostly sales tax) spent more money. On cops. On streets. On whatever. The revenue stream presented a simple boundary condition.
I point to this analogy because available water can provide a simple boundary condition.
In a story last month, Matt Weiser of the Sacramento Bee introduced us to a farmer who behaved thus in the face of such a constraint:
Shawn Coburn, a farmer near Firebaugh, planted processing tomatoes this year on 500 acres that had been fallowed the last two years due to water shortages.
Pretty straightforward. Mr. Coburn didn’t have enough water in 2009 and 2010, so he didn’t plant those 500 acres.
Santa Fe, New Mexico, is another great example. The community faces real water supply constraints. It’s one of the only New Mexico cities that uses substantial supplies of surface water (from watersheds in the Sangre de Cristos), which are not super reliable. It has groundwater fields, but they’re not renewable, and the state’s regulatory structure places an additional constraint on them. It has a modest amount of imported Colorado River water, which it is using to the maximum extent it can. But it’s basically hit the limit.
As a result, a series of aggressive measures have pushed per capita water consumption down from 168 gallons per person per day in the mid 1990s to something around 100 gppd today. The details of how it did this are almost irrelevant. The key here is that, in the case of an imposed constraint, its residents reduced their water usage substantially. And it’s still a terrific little city. Cities do this sort of thing when they have to.
The fact is that we’re enormously profligate with water in the 21st-century United States, whether it’s irrigating marginal farmland or watering lush lawns and outdoor gardens and taking long showers. Faced with genuine constraints, we’ve shown, over and over, our ability to get by quite nicely using less water.
The real question is how we, as a society, go about imposing constraints and managing the transition.
As regular readers may have noticed, I am much enamored with the Law of the River, the body of legal stuff that governs allocation of Colorado River water. As the graph shows, we have some real problems in the Colorado River Basin, with demand exceeding supply in the last decade. But we also have mechanisms for dealing with it in a relatively orderly fashion.
The Law of the River provides a framework for imposing constraints on each of the seven basin states and Mexico that will determine how much of the dwindling river each political subdivision gets. It is then left to those subdivisions to determine how to allocate the available water – or how to share the resulting shortages. So Santa Fe, for example, did not have an option of just going and grabbing more Colorado River water. The Law of the River, cascading down through state laws and regulations, imposed a constraint, and Santa Fe just figured out how to use less.
There are lots of other examples on the Colorado, including Southern California’s response to the Law of the River’s edict that it reduce its Colorado River use a decade ago. There is messiness within the states (witness Nevada’s struggle over whether Vegas can tap into rural groundwater to meet future needs). There is some real messiness with respect to groundwater mining. At the state and local community levels there will be winners and losers and some ugliness in the struggles to decide who fits in which category. I don’t mean to suggest this is an easy process. There’s a lot of heavy lifting to be done in communities across the West. But there’s a track record of responding to constraints successfully.
Ah, but the parts of California that don’t have a Law of the River to fall back on?
Yikes. Y’all don’t have your act together in terms of a framework for deciding where the limits are, for imposing constraints. One need look no further than Devin Nunes HR 1837 to see that California’s political system has not yet come to terms with the notion of constraints and the decisions that must follow.
Good luck, my Golden State friends.
Writing this week in the Los Angeles Times, the NRDC’s Doug Obegi makes the central point about the linkage between water problems across the west. Responding to Victor Davis Hanson’s argument in favor of giving farmers more water from the Sacramento Delta, Obegi makes the salient point that there isn’t the water to give:
The reality is that these water contracts promise more water than has ever been — or could be — delivered. Until 2000, the largest water user (the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California, which serves 19 million Californians) didn’t request all of the water it was entitled to under its contract. Now that everyone wants their full share, there’s less for others.
And why has Met increased its take of water from the Sacramento Delta? At the risk of the blog faux pas of quoting myself, because Met’s Colorado River allotment went down:
As the Central Arizona Project fully came on line, California had to bring its usage down to reflect that reality. One thing that happened is that the Metropolitan Water District’s use of Colorado River water went down, and its use of State Water Project water, pumped from the delta, went up.
Update: I was just waving my arms here, but a commenter who actually knows what s/he is talking about has stepped in with some valuable assistance. So skip my post below and just read this:
The data you’re looking for can be found here, at the county level: http://www.ers.usda.gov/briefing/ruraldevelopment/developments.htm
Like any data set, it’s open to interpretation. Overall, metro counties outperform nonmetro counties.
->You can break it down by region, to show that in the Northeast and South, urban areas outpace rural ones – while in the Midwest and the West, rural ones capture more federal dollars.
->You can try to differentiate transfers from procurement – that is, money the government redistributes from money the government spends to buy the things it needs. Defense dollars alone produce a $1k/capita rural/urban gap, because although many bases are rural, the real money goes to manufacturers, researchers, and health care. The same gap is visible using the more general ‘procurement’ category.
->But from where I sit, the most interesting difference is the three-part division between urbanized, less urban, and totally rural. Split things this way, and it’s a whole new ballgame. Counties that are genuinely rural – as opposed to, say, exurban – clearly outperform their urban and less urban counterparts. The same holds true for counties that are dependent on agriculture. And the two biggest single drivers are ‘grants’ and ‘direct payments other than for individuals.’ Rural counties aren’t capturing more dollars than urbanized counties just because their residents are older and poorer – those effects are actually fairly small (retirement/disability generates a $300 gap, and direct payments to individuals (EITC, UI) another $650). They’re capturing more dollars because they’re the beneficiaries of a variety of federal programs that target them for grants, bloc payments, and subsidies.
Really, this isn’t surprising. It’s also not seriously contested by economists. Rural areas enjoy outsize political clout, and they convert that into greater spending per capita. The gap would be even larger, but for the fact that these calculations include things the government buys, and most of those things are produced in urban areas.
Previously…
Warning: I’m operating totally outside my areas of journalistic expertise here, so this could be utter bullshit. More caveats to come. That said….
My friends at Stanford’s Rural West Inititative (disclosure – I’m sort of one of them) yesterday were linking off to a discussion of the potential effect of federal budget cuts on the rural United States. The Los Angeles Times kicked off the discussion with this:
The budget-cutting fervor in Washington is forcing lawmakers to reconsider not just the total amount they spend, but also where the dollars are going and why. The recipients with the most to lose are the ones in rural America, who are almost twice as reliant on federal largesse as city dwellers and suburbanites.
The folks at Daily Yonder clicked on the links in the Times piece and called the big urban paper out:
No matter how you look at it, rural “recipients” are not twice as reliant on transfer payments (medical benefits, Social Security, etc.). But, okay, rural residents are older and poorer, so they receive more of these transfer payments. Fine. This is a good point, even if the specifics are all messed up.
But then the Times conflates transfer payments with ALL federal spending. To tell you the truth, we can’t understand what the paper is saying. The paper says that “six of the 10 states where the federal government spent the most per capita are rural and people living on farms and in small towns collected 20% more on average in federal benefits than city dwellers.”
What the heck does that mean? What’s a “rural” state? (There are only five states in the country with a majority of residents living in rural counties after all.) Vermont is the most rural state in the country. Is Vermont on this list? We doubt it.
The Times original editorial is mostly about rural airport subsidies, which is one of those federal spending topics that leaves me feeling a bit like the drunk looking for his keys under the streetlight. By that I mean that it’s not very likely that we’ll find anything useful with regard to large scale systemic federal spending issues by studying the airport subsidy question. But hey, it’s all lit up over there, so why not give it a look?
The thing is, to first approximation, this analysis is not at all hard. And the result seems to be that the rural-not rural divide has only an itsy bitsy relationship to per capita federal spending in the states:
That’s total per capita spending by state (the y axis) vs. percent rural population, with a linear fit thrown in. The four graphically obvious outliers (per capital federal spending greater than $15k) are Maryland and Virginia (DC spillover), Alaska and Hawaii (big defense dollars per capita, I guess ’cause you can see Russia and China from there or something). It’s a bit crude (the per capita spending data is from 2009, the most recent percent rural data I could find was from the 2000 Census), but that ought to be enough of a back-of-the-envelope calculation to suggest that the rural-urban divide among states explains very little of the variance in per capita federal spending.
Sources:
NB: For the newspaper, I spent a bunch of time last week looking at how the federal government spends money in New Mexico, so I think the underlying questions – who gets money now, and how that might change under the current “budget cutting” process. The (sub/ad req) column is here. But I’ve not really thought much in any rigorous way about the rural/urban federal spending divide, so this analysis may be totally pants.