Daily commutes are draining Australia's water reserves

The Murray River during the droughts of 2007. Image: Getty.

Melbourne’s transport uses 311bn litres of water each year – equivalent to flooding the city’s centre 8 metres deep. That’s just one of the findings of our study looking at how much water different modes of transport use.

We found that cars are the most water-intensive mode of transport, using on average 6.4 litres of water per passenger, per kilometre. Diesel trains use 5.2L per passenger-kilometre (pkm) and electric trains use the least, at 3.4L per pkm.

This means that a typical commuter can use between 140L and 350L of water per day to travel to work and back. This is at least as much as a Melbourne resident’s daily household water use of 160L.

Water use is thus a significant part of transport sustainability, but it is often ignored in favour of focusing on energy use and greenhouse emissions. So what can we do to stop transport draining our water resources?

How is water used in transport?

Water is needed in nearly all aspects of transport. It’s needed to make cars, to produce fuels, to replace tyres, and to build roads, among other processes.

Similarly, trains require water for the administration of the public transport network, manufacturing engines and rolling stock, constructing railways and stations, and providing customer services. So the entire supply chain supporting the delivery of passenger transport needs to be considered in evaluating total water use.

To estimate the total water intensities of different transport modes, we used input-output analysis. This statistical technique models the entire economy of a nation or region, capturing the economic transactions between each sector of the economy and another.

The resulting input-output tables are then extended with environmental data that allow us to estimate the environmental intensity of each sector – in this case the amount of water per dollar. Using detailed financial expenditure data for each transport mode, we can figure out how much water is being used.

How much water is Melbourne’s transport using?

Transport in Melbourne is dominated by cars, as in all Australian cities and many others around the world. This is in contrast to urban centres such as Copenhagen, which relies heavily on bikes.

Melbourne does offer a range of public transport systems, including regional and metropolitan trains. These represent the large majority of public transport trips. For these reasons we focused on petrol cars and trains as the main passenger transport modes. The infographic below summarises our findings.

Water requirements of passenger transport modes in Melbourne, Australia.

A 50km round trip to work by car requires 320L of water – more than two months of drinking water for a single person. Travelling alone by car is the most water-intensive way to travel.

For train travel, the water use associated with transporting 175 people for 20km in an electric train would be equivalent to having 6cm of water on the floor of the train at arrival. This is equivalent to more than three years worth of drinking water for one person.

You can imagine trains filling up with water relatively quickly throughout the day.


Beyond Melbourne

While our study focused on Melbourne, the water intensity of transport modes is also likely to be significant in other cities of Australia and globally. This is because we need a significant amount of water for many manufacturing processes, water supply, electricity generation, fuel production and for other products and services. A study on the water requirements of road vehicles in Finland found similar water intensities for cars and supports this argument.

But it is important to highlight that there is uncertainty in the data. One of the most influential factors is the number of people per vehicle. This is typically very low for cars (around 1.2 people in Melbourne ) and relatively high for trains (around 55-66 per cent full).

This could be improved by car-pooling. We found that if five people travelled together in a car, cars become the most efficient mode of transport. Car-pooling is far from being used at its full potential, but the recent advent of ride-sharing companies can help change this.

However, cars are probably not the best solution as they lead to other negative impacts on the built environment. These include favouring low-density suburban sprawl, air pollution, threatening street life and requiring large costs for infrastructure and land-use.

If this is the case, how can we reduce the water requirements associated with our travel?

Moving forward

Reducing the water requirements associated with passenger transport is a shared responsibility for travellers and transport providers.

There are two main things you can do as a commuter.

First, ditch cars in favour of public transport, which uses less water and resources per person. If public transport isn’t available, make sure your car contains as many passengers as possible.

Second, walk or cycle more often. Both significantly reduce indirect requirements for water, energy use and greenhouse gas emissions.

It could be argued that with more physical activity comes greater need for water and food, which in turn requires huge amounts of water to produce. However, the health benefits of active transport and the resulting savings in public health schemes probably outweigh this additional demand. Some further research is needed to determine whether this is truly the case.

For public transport providers, it is critical to ensure that the entire supply chain is managed better. While water efficiency in administrative buildings is praiseworthy, the majority of the demand occurs further upstream in the supply chain. This can be accomplished through supply chain management. For example, providing incentives for subcontractors and partners to implement integrated water saving strategies.

It is clear that further research is needed to better understand and assess water use associated with transport. More cities and modes of transport need to be assessed to provide a more comprehensive understanding of water use. This will ultimately contribute to reducing our total use of water and help preserve the natural systems on which we depend.The Conversation

André Stephan is a postdoctoral research fellow, and Robert Crawford a senior lecturer in construction and environmental assessment, at the University of Melbourne.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

 
 
 
 

How the rise of anti-crime politics caused lasting harm to Black Americans

"I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become," James Forman Jr. says. (David McNew/Getty Images)

The police killing of George Floyd, and the protest movement that emerged from it, has reinvigorated a national conversation around reinventing criminal justice policy in the United States.

At the same time, reports that violent crime is rising in many US cities have resurrected talk of the much-disputed “Ferguson effect,” a theory put forward by law enforcement professionals, and some researchers, who argued that police slowdowns in the wake of the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests resulted in elevated rates of violent crime. President Donald Trump is trying to weaponise this narrative, paired with images of federal officers clashing with protesters in the streets of Portland, to wage a 1968-style backlash election campaign.

“People who want to mobilise a lock-them-up style of either policing or prosecution have tried to weaponise those short-term increases,” says James Forman Jr., professor of law at Yale Law School. “Criminologists will say you have to be very, very cautious about short-term movement [in crime statistics]. We don't know whether or not what we're seeing right now [with violent crime increasing] is going to sustain itself. But the fact is, it's here and people are talking about it.”

In 2018, Forman won the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction for his book Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America. Drawing on his experience as a public defender in Washington, DC, he traced the emergence of anti-crime politics in late 20th century Black communities. Forman showed how newly empowered Black politicians fought for policies they believed would protect and uplift Black Americans, but inadvertently contributed to mass incarceration. 


CityMetric recently caught up with Forman to discuss crime trends, where he sees reason for hope in this moment and how the Black political class’s attitude toward crime and punishment has shifted since the latter part of the 20th century. 

This interview has been edited and condensed. 

There is talk right now about a resurgence of crime and violence in American cities. We saw similar, more localised concerns after the initial 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in Ferguson and Baltimore. Do you fear this could reinvigorate the kind of politics you describe in your book among segments of the Black community and political class?

I fear that it could be reinvigorated nationally and also in the Black political class. Look at the political conversations that are happening in Atlanta right now, for example, a city that also has seen a short-term uptick in crime as it is a site of a lot of protests about George Floyd and Breonna Taylor on the national level, as well as Rayshard Brooks and Ahmaud Arbery more locally in Georgia.

I think that you can already see in some of the language of the local elected officials this idea that we have to be very careful about pulling back. [They are saying] “while the protesters may make some valid points, we can't risk returning to the ‘80s and ‘90s.” Those decades really traumatised the United States, and particularly traumatised Black communities. There's a deep fear about returning to the levels of the violence that we saw in the crack years.

You write a lot about class divides among Black Americans, where middle income and elite Black people don't suffer as much from extremely punitive policies. They also have closer ties to the politicians who are creating these policies. There are very specific groups of people, even in marginalised communities, whose voices are heard.  As a result of these dynamics, you write about Black politicians fighting for things like mandatory minimum prison sentences or against decriminalising marijuana. Is there still that disconnect between those who suffer the most from criminal justice policies and those who are actually heard in political discourse?  

Let me just say a caveat, that when we talk about class divisions in the Black community it's important to hold two truths in our head at the same time. Bruce Western and others have shown the way in which class, educational status, income can dramatically reduce the likelihood of being hardest hit by the criminal system – namely incarcerated. Middle class and upper middle class Black people get some measure of protection. It's also true at the same time that Black people of all classes are worse off relative to their class counterparts in the white community. 

One area where class is least protective is policing and police stops. The police do not know how many degrees you have. They don't know how much money you have in your bank account. I want to be very clear that in making this point about class, I'm not making the argument that race or racism don't matter in this context. 

In terms of how it plays out now, I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become. Twenty or 30 years ago they had a consciousness, but there's levels of understanding. Many of the people I write about in the book wanted to promote the interests of the Black community. They weren't motivated by indifference or callousness. When presented with mounting evidence of how awful this system has been in Black lives, they're reconsidering and recalibrating. 

Lots of former elected officials have said to me some version of “I didn't know at the time and I appreciate that you showed us in our full complexity. I appreciate that you showed the pressures we were under. If I had known then what I know now, maybe I would have been less quick to go along with some of these harsh measures.” 

The second thing that has affected the Black political class has been the emerging movements, led by Black people in particular and led by young people. They not only educated leaders, but pressured them and made them understand that there is a political cost. If you're not moved by the moral argument, then you'll be moved by the political argument. You'll be moved by the people protesting outside the office of District Attorney Jackie Lacey in Los Angeles, for example, where Black Lives Matter LA has held, I believe, a year of consecutive protests against a Black district attorney who has had really some of the worst practices.

From what I can tell, she's been pressured by the movement to change some of her positions on important issues like prosecution of low-level drug offenders, for example, and the aggressiveness with which she prosecutes police officers for acts of violence.

What do you make of the calls to defend or even abolish the police?

What I find so compelling about abolition, initially in the prison context and extended to the police as well, is that it shifts the conversation and forces us to go through experiments in which we imagine what it would take to build that world. I think that exercise is very important, because it pushes us further than we are naturally inclined to go. Cultivating a broader imagination is an incredibly important part of this work, because as you know from my book, often it was lack of imagination that caused people to fall back on [punitive policies]. 

That's what caused D.C. Councilmember David Clarke to call the police rather than public health experts when he was overwhelmed with letters about heroin addicts in public space. He was anti-drug war, but he couldn't imagine responding to a call for help with heroin addicts with anything other than police. That's a very common move from even really good and progressive people. 

People who are for defunding, for abolition, are absolutely right about reinvesting that money into alternative structures that support communities. But the reinvestment part doesn't follow naturally from the terms. We might want to come up with a term that captures the new stuff we want to do. I think that's particularly important because one of the reasons Black communities have ended up supporting more police is that Black communities have always wanted their fair share of the resources.

Then, the evidence suggests the United States has too many police officers doing prophylactic, preventative, or stop-and-frisk style policing. The style of policing that leads to district level harassment, pulling people over for no reason. But we have too little investment in the parts of police departments that investigate unsolved crimes. I'm talking about the investigator or the detective who comes to your house after there's been a robbery, an assault, a rape, or homicide. 

As compared to European countries, in the United States we actually underinvest in those parts of our police departments. Jill Leovy’s book Ghettoside shows this in dramatic detail. She describes an LAPD that's stopping and frisking Black drivers wantonly and yet the homicide detectives are still relying on a fax machine and the fax machine is broken. They have to go with their own money to Staples to buy a printer. Meanwhile, other aspects of the department are kitted out in this ridiculous riot gear that makes them look like they're in Fallujah. 

That under investment is particularly damaging to Black communities because we're disproportionately victimised by crime. Because of racism and this allocation of resources, the police are less likely to respond in Black communities. The kids I used to work with in the charter schools in DC, we talk about no snitching, but one of the reasons they would never call the police after they'd been victimised by crime is they would say, “They're not even going to come. You're wasting time.” 

I did a Q&A with Jill Leovy too and her argument is one I've struggled to articulate in our present moment. She argues the state doesn't have a monopoly on violence in low-income Black neighbourhoods, because investigations of violence are deemphasised and crime victims or their loved ones often take retribution into their own hands.  But right now, establishing or preserving the state's monopoly on violence isn't an appealing talking point. 

Yes, this is another thing nobody's talking about. Whatever we're going to do instead of the police has to be accountable to the public. The best, most direct way to have accountability is to have the individuals be public employees. As long as we have 300 million guns in this country at least some of those state employees are going to themselves be armed. It's unreasonable to ask them to do the job without it. Not as many need to be armed as are armed now, but some of them need to be. But they can't be hiding behind union contracts or civil service protections which make it impossible to remove even the worst performing, most abusive officers. 

We can not call them police if we want to. That's semantic, but maybe symbolism matters. But those people have to be state employees. They can work with community-based nonprofits, but there are also communities that don't have as robust of a nonprofit network, and they deserve protection too. These [community] groups have to be accountable to the state and, when they don't exist, the state has to be there. 

Progressives get all the points I just made when it's applied to education. The notion that things be public and accountable to the state is understood when it comes to schools. It's exactly why so many people on the left are opposed to charter schools, because they say they don't have public accountability. They want these things to be a state function. But this point about the difficulty in removing this entirely from the hands of the state is, I think, one that liberals and progressives understand from other contexts.

Jake Blumgart is a staff writer at CityMetric.