Mark Kleiman makes a powerful point that deserves further discussion:
There are, however, at least two conservation measures that have, as far as I can tell, modest costs (and in one case huge side-benefits) and potentially substantial energy-saving potential. Both have to do with reducing the "heat island" effect that makes cities much hotter than the surrounding countryside, causing discomfort (if not worse) and pushing up air-conditioning usage.
Today's Washington Posthas a story about tree-planting in urban areas. The numbers are spectacular. In Los Angeles, tree-planting could reduce temperatures by as much as 5 degrees F., in addition to reducing air pollution and improving visibility. Yet apparently the urban, and especially suburban, tree cover ratios have been shrinking severely.
It also turns out that much of the "heat island" effect stems, not from the concentration of heat-producing activities, but from the fact that urban surfaces, especially walls, roofs, roadways, and parking lots, are a lot darker, on average, than rural landscapes. Lower albedo means more retained radiant energy. Replacing a black roof with a white one, or lightening up roadway and parking-lot asphalt by mixing in some chalk dust, could make a substantial difference at a trivial cost.[...]
There's a big political problem here. A candidate who says he's going to deal with our energy problem by drilling in ANWR will have his opinion taken seriously by reporters and pundits, even though the actual contribution of such drilling to reducing imports is trivial. But a national-level politician who proposed tree-planting or chalk dust would wind up the butt of jokes on late-night TV. Somehow the ideas lack gravitas. I have no clear idea what to do about that.
Word. A similar dynamic occurs on foreign policy questions, where loose talk over invading Iran or putting boots on the ground in Darfur dominates headlines but eyes glaze over if you begin talking about easy, cheap, and massively effective ideas to reduce transmission of AIDS in Africa, or stop people from starving in Uganda. The latter policies would have a larger impact, saving millions of lives while putting next to none in harm's way, but since they don't lend themselves to action figures and Michael Bay movies, they're considered dull examples of over-earnest liberal do-goodery. For some reason, you need the thrill of danger, the lure of technology, or the threat of economic pain to inject a policy into the national agenda. Small bore, technocratic fixes that offer massive benefits while requiring relatively little sacrifice or sorrow just get ignored. Who wants low hanging fruit anyway?
