Academic literature on the topic '960399 Climate and Climate Change not elsewhere classified'

Iraq has been experiencing water resources scarcity, and is vulnerable to climate change. Analysis of historical data revealed that the region is experiencing climate change to a degree higher than generally reported elsewhere. The relationship between climate change and its effect on water resources of a region has been sparsely addressed in published literature. To fill that gap this research work first investigates if there has been a significant change in climate in the region, which has been found to be true. In the next stage, the research projects future climatic scenarios of the region based on six oft-used General Circulation Model (GCM) ensembles, namely CCSM4, CSIRO-Mk3.6.0, GFDL-ESM2M, MEROC5, HadGEM2-ES, and IPSL-CM5A-LR. The relationship between climate change and its impact on water resources is explored through the application of the popular, widely used SWAT model. The model depicts the availability of water resources, classified separately as blue and green waters, for near and distant futures for the region. Some of the findings are foreboding and warrants urgent attention of planners and decision makers. According to model outputs, the region may experience precipitation reduction of about 12.6% and 21% in near (2049–2069) and distant (2080–2099) futures, respectively under RCP8.5. Those figures under RCP4.5 are 15% and 23.4%, respectively and under RCP2.6 are 12.2% and 18.4%, respectively. As a consequence, the blue water may experience decreases of about 22.6% and 40% under RCP8.5, 25.8% and 46% under RCP4.5, and 34.4% and 31% under RCP2.6 during the periods 2049–2069 and 2080–2099, respectively. Green water, by contrast, may reduce by about 10.6% and 19.6% under RCP8.5, by about 14.8% and 19.4% under RCP4.5, and by about 15.8% and 14.2% under RCP2.6 during the periods 2049–2069 and 2080–2099, respectively. The research further investigates how the population are adapting to already changed climates and how they are expected to cope in the future when the shift in climate is expected to be much greater.

Interest in northern forests is increasing worldwide for both timber production and climate change mitigation. Studies exploring forest productivity at an early age after fire and its determining factors are greatly needed. We studied forest productivity, defined as the combined quality of stocking and growth, of 116 10- to 30-year-old postfire sites. The sites were spread over a 90 000 km2 area north of the Quebec commercial forestry limit and were dominated by Picea mariana (Mill.) B.S.P. and Pinus banksiana Lamb. Seventy-two percent of our sites were classified as unproductive, mainly because of poor growth. Because growth was mostly determined by climatic factors, afforestation alone may not be sufficient to increase stand productivity in our study area. In addition, our results suggest that P. banksiana on dry sites may be less resilient to fire than previously thought, presumably because of poor site quality and climate. Overall, this is one of the first studies to explore productivity issues at an early age in natural northern forests, and the analysis scheme that defines forest productivity as the result of growth and stocking could provide a useful tool to identify similar issues elsewhere.

Abstract. Generally, investigation of long-term mangroves fragmentation changes can be used as an important tool in assessing sensitivity and vulnerability of these ecosystems to the multiple environmental hazards. Therefore, the aim of this study was to reveal the trend of mangroves fragmentation changes in Khamir habitat using satellite imagery and Fragstats software during a 30-year period (1986–2016). To this end, Landsat images of 1986, 1998, and 2016 were used and after computing the normalized difference vegetation index (NDVI) to distinguish mangroves from surrounding water and land areas, images were further processed and classified into two types of land cover (i.e., mangrove and non-mangrove areas) using the maximum likelihood classification method. By determining the extent of mangroves in the Khamir habitat in the years of 1986, 1998 and 2017, the trend of fragmentation changes was quantified using CA, NP, PD and LPI landscape metrics. The results showed that the extent of mangroves in Khamir habitat (CA) decreased in the period post-1998 (1998–2016). The results also showed that, the NP and PD increased in the period of post-1998 and in contrast, the LPI decrease in this period. These results revealed the high degree of vulnerability of mangroves in Khamir habitat to the drought occurrence and are thus threatened by climate change. We hope that the results of this study stimulate further climate change adaptation planning efforts and help decision-makers prioritize and implement conservative measures in the mangrove ecosystems on the northern coasts of the PG and the GO and elsewhere.

Forest plays a vital role in carbon sequestration and climate regulation. A crucial tool for managing forest, particularly in protected regions, is keeping track of how the land cover changes in natural places. Using geospatial approaches, such as remote sensing and geographic information system (GIS), the present study has revealed spatio-temporal changes in land use categories and forest cover in the Chandaka National Park of Odisha, India, throughout the period of 1980-2020. The Landsat, LISS III and Sentinel satellite images of the year 1980, 2000 and 2020 were utilized respectively to map five land use land cover categories i.e. deciduous broadleaf forest, crop land, mixed forest, scrub land and water bodies in this preserved area. The satellite images were classified using a Supervised Classification method using Maximum Likelihood algorithm and ground control points (GCPs) were used for the spatial statistical analyses. The overall accuracies of the classification method in land cover categories in year 1980, 2000 and 2020 were 90.45%, 92.76% and 94.68%, respectively. Elsewhere, in order to study land use land cover (LULC) change and loss in forest of the Chandaka National Park, LULC classification, per-pixel scales post classification and self-knowledge on the LULC change process were used. The LULC change detection results showed that deciduous broadleaf forest decreased from 179.01 sq. km (76.66%) in 1980 to 132.75 sq. km (56.85%) in 2020, while mixed forest cover increased by 8.17 sq. km (3.50%) in 1980 to 38.84 sq. km (16.63%) in 2020. Crop land, Scrub land and Water bodies were also increased by 3.34%, 3.27% and 0.07%, respectively. Two significant change processes in the area are the logging activities in several places for timber and the conversion of natural forests with plantation. Agriculture expansion in the forest’s periphery is linked to the dramatic decline in forest cover change. The decline in forest cover is also a result of the production of charcoal and lumber exploitation. Overall, our findings indicated that more public awareness and participatory forest management are necessary to preserve Chandaka National Park. This study highlights the use of geospatial technologies in understanding the changes in LULC in the Chandaka National Park.

Viruses that are normally safely contained within their host spe­cies can emerge due to intense livestock farming, trade, travel, climate change and encroachment of human activities into new environments. The unexpected emergence of bluetongue virus (BTV), the prototype species of the genus Orbivirus, in economi­cally important livestock species (sheep and cattle) across the whole of Europe (since 1998), indicates that other orbiviruses represent a potential further threat to animal and human popula­tions in Europe and elsewhere. The genus Orbivirus is the largest within the family Reoviridae, containing 22 virus species, as well as 14 unclassified orbiviruses, some of which may repre­sent additional or novel species. The orbiviruses are transmitted primarily by arthropod vectors (e.g. Culicoides, mosquitoes or ticks). Viral genome sequence data provide a basis for virus taxonomy and diagnostic test development, and make it possible to address fundamental questions concerning virus biology, pathogenesis, virulence and evolution, that can be further explored in mutation and reverse genetics studies. Genome sequences also provide criteria for the classification of novel isolates within individual Orbivirus species, as well as the identification of different sero­types, topotypes, reassortants and even closely related but dis­tinct virus lineages. Full-length genome characterization of Tilligerry virus (TILV), a member of the Eubenangee virus species, and Mitchell River virus (MRV), a member of the Warrego virus species, have revealed highly conserved 5’ and 3’ terminal hexanucleotide sequences. Phylogenetic analyses of orbivirus T2 ‘sub-core-shell’ protein sequences reinforce the hypothesis that this protein is an important evolutionary marker for these viruses. The T2 protein shows high levels of amino acid (AA) sequence identity (> 91%) within a single Orbivirus species / serogroup, which can be used for species identification. The T2-protein gene has therefore been given priority in sequencing studies. The T2 protein of TILV is closely related to that of Eubenangee virus (~91% identity), con­firming that they are both members of the same Eubenangee virus species. Although TILV is reported to be related to BTV in serological assays, the TILV T2 protein shows only 68-70% AA identity to BTV. This supports its current classification within a different serogroup (Eubenangee). Warrego virus and MRV are currently classified as two distinct members (different serotypes) within the Warrego virus species. However, they show only about 79% AA identity in their T2 pro­tein (based on partial sequences). It is therefore considered likely that they could be reclassified as members of distinct Orbivirus species. The taxonomic classification of MRV will be reviewed after generating full length sequences for the entire genomes of both viruses. The taxonomic status of each of these viruses will also be tested further by co-infections and attempts to create reassortants between them (only viruses belonging to the same species can reassort their genome segments). TILV and MRV are the first viruses from their respective serogroups / virus species to be genetically fully characterized, and will provide a basis for the further characterization / identification of additional viruses within each group / species. These data will assist in the devel­opment of specific diagnostic assays and potentially in control of emerging diseases. The sequences generated will also help to evaluate current diagnostic [reverse transcriptase - polymerase chain reaction (RT-PCR)] tests for BTV, African horse sickness virus, epizootic haemorrhagic disease virus, etc., in silico, by identifying any possibility of cross reactivity.

IntroductionTasmania hangs from the map of Australia like a drop in freefall from the substance of the mainland. Often the whole state is mislaid from Australian maps and logos (Reddit). Tasmania has, at least since federation, been considered peripheral—a region seen as isolated, a ‘problem’ economically, politically, and culturally. However, Tasmania not only cleaves to the ‘north island’ of Australia but is also subject to the gravitational pull of an even greater land mass—Antarctica. In this article, we upturn the political conventions of map-making that place both Antarctica and Tasmania in obscure positions at the base of the globe. We show how a changing global climate re-frames Antarctica and the Southern Ocean as key drivers of worldwide environmental shifts. The liquid and solid water between Tasmania and Antarctica is revealed not as a homogenous barrier, but as a dynamic and relational medium linking the Tasmanian archipelago with Antarctica. When Antarctica becomes the focus, the script is flipped: Tasmania is no longer on the edge, but core to a network of gateways into the southern land. The state’s capital of Hobart can from this perspective be understood as an “Antarctic city”, central to the geopolitics, economy, and culture of the frozen continent (Salazar et al.). Viewed from the south, we argue, Tasmania is not a problem, but an opportunity for a form of ecological, cultural, economic, and political sustainability that opens up the southern continent to science, discovery, and imagination.A Centre at the End of the Earth? Tasmania as ParadoxThe islands of Tasmania owe their existence to climate change: a period of warming at the end of the last ice age melted the vast sheets of ice covering the polar regions, causing sea levels to rise by more than one hundred metres (Tasmanian Climate Change Office 8). Eleven thousand years ago, Aboriginal people would have witnessed the rise of what is now called Bass Strait, turning what had been a peninsula into an archipelago, with the large island of Tasmania at its heart. The heterogeneous practices and narratives of Tasmanian regional identity have been shaped by the geography of these islands, and their connection to the Southern Ocean and Antarctica. Regions, understood as “centres of collective consciousness and sociospatial identities” (Paasi 241) are constantly reproduced and reimagined through place-based social practices and communications over time. As we will show, diverse and contradictory narratives of Tasmanian regionality often co-exist, interacting in complex and sometimes complementary ways. Ecocritical literary scholar C.A. Cranston considers duality to be embedded in the textual construction of Tasmania, writing “it was hell, it was heaven, it was penal, it was paradise” (29). Tasmania is multiply polarised: it is both isolated and connected; close and far away; rich in resources and poor in capital; the socially conservative birthplace of radical green politics (Hay 60). The weather, as if sensing the fine balance of these paradoxes, blows hot and cold at a moment’s notice.Tasmania has wielded extraordinary political influence at times in its history—notably during the settlement of Melbourne in 1835 (Boyce), and during protests against damming the Franklin River in the early 1980s (Mercer). However, twentieth-century historical and political narratives of Tasmania portray the Bass Strait as a barrier, isolating Tasmanians from the mainland (Harwood 61). Sir Bede Callaghan, who headed one of a long line of federal government inquiries into “the Tasmanian problem” (Harwood 106), was clear that Tasmania was a victim of its own geography:the major disability facing the people of Tasmania (although some residents may consider it an advantage) is that Tasmania is an island. Separation from the mainland adversely affects the economy of the State and the general welfare of the people in many ways. (Callaghan 3)This perspective may stem from the fact that Tasmania has maintained the lowest Gross Domestic Product per capita of all states since federation (Bureau of Infrastructure Transport and Regional Economics 9). Socially, economically, and culturally, Tasmania consistently ranks among the worst regions of Australia. Statistical comparisons with other parts of Australia reveal the population’s high unemployment, low wages, poor educational outcomes, and bad health (West 31). The state’s remoteness and isolation from the mainland states and its reliance on federal income have contributed to the whole of Tasmania, including Hobart, being classified as ‘regional’ by the Australian government, in an attempt to promote immigration and economic growth (Department of Infrastructure and Regional Development 1). Tasmania is indeed both regional and remote. However, in this article we argue that, while regionality may be cast as a disadvantage, the island’s remote location is also an asset, particularly when viewed from a far southern perspective (Image 1).Image 1: Antarctica (Orthographic Projection). Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons, Modified Shading of Tasmania and Addition of Captions by H. Nielsen.Connecting Oceans/Collapsing DistanceTasmania and Antarctica have been closely linked in the past—the future archipelago formed a land bridge between Antarctica and northern land masses until the opening of the Tasman Seaway some 32 million years ago (Barker et al.). The far south was tangible to the Indigenous people of the island in the weather blowing in from the Southern Ocean, while the southern lights, or “nuyina”, formed a visible connection (Australia’s new icebreaker vessel is named RSV Nuyina in recognition of these links). In the contemporary Australian imagination, Tasmania tends to be defined by its marine boundaries, the sea around the islands represented as flat, empty space against which to highlight the topography of its landscape and the isolation of its position (Davies et al.). A more relational geographic perspective illuminates the “power of cross-currents and connections” (Stratford et al. 273) across these seascapes. The sea country of Tasmania is multiple and heterogeneous: the rough, shallow waters of the island-scattered Bass Strait flow into the Tasman Sea, where the continental shelf descends toward an abyssal plain studded with volcanic seamounts. To the south, the Southern Ocean provides nutrient-rich upwellings that attract fish and cetacean populations. Tasmania’s coast is a dynamic, liminal space, moving and changing in response to the global currents that are driven by the shifting, calving and melting ice shelves and sheets in Antarctica.Oceans have long been a medium of connection between Tasmania and Antarctica. In the early colonial period, when the seas were the major thoroughfares of the world and inland travel was treacherous and slow, Tasmania’s connection with the Southern Ocean made it a valuable hub for exploration and exploitation of the south. Between 1642 and 1900, early European explorers were followed by British penal colonists, convicts, sealers, and whalers (Kriwoken and Williamson 93). Tasmania was well known to polar explorers, with expeditions led by Jules Dumont d’Urville, James Clark Ross, Roald Amundsen, and Douglas Mawson all transiting through the port of Hobart. Now that the city is no longer a whaling hub, growing populations of cetaceans continue to migrate past the islands on their annual journeys from the tropics, across the Sub-Antarctic Front and Antarctic circumpolar current, and into the south polar region, while southern species such as leopard seals are occasionally seen around Tasmania (Tasmania Parks and Wildlife). Although the water surrounding Tasmania and Antarctica is at times homogenised as a ‘barrier’, rendering these places isolated, the bodies of water that surround both are in fact permeable, and regularly crossed by both humans and marine species. The waters are diverse in their physical characteristics, underlying topography, sea life, and relationships, and serve to connect many different ocean regions, ecosystems, and weather patterns.Views from the Far SouthWhen considered in terms of its relative proximity to Antarctic, rather than its distance from Australia’s political and economic centres, Tasmania’s identity undergoes a significant shift. A sign at Cockle Creek, in the state’s far south, reminds visitors that they are closer to Antarctica than to Cairns, invoking a discourse of connectedness that collapses the standard ten-day ship voyage to Australia’s closest Antarctic station into a unit comparable with the routinely scheduled 5.5 hour flight to North Queensland. Hobart is the logistical hub for the Australian Antarctic Division and the French Institut Polaire Francais (IPEV), and has hosted Antarctic vessels belonging to the USA, South Korea, and Japan in recent years. From a far southern perspective, Hobart is not a regional Australian capital but a global polar hub. This alters the city’s geographic imaginary not only in a latitudinal sense—from “top down” to “bottom up”—but also a longitudinal one. Via its southward connection to Antarctica, Hobart is also connected east and west to four other recognized gateways: Cape Town in South Africa, Christchurch in New Zealand; Punta Arenas in Chile; and Ushuaia in Argentina (Image 2). The latter cities are considered small by international standards, but play an outsized role in relation to Antarctica.Image 2: H. Nielsen with a Sign Announcing Distances between Antarctic ‘Gateway’ Cities and Antarctica, Ushuaia, Argentina, 2018. Image Credit: Nicki D'Souza.These five cities form what might be called—to adapt geographer Klaus Dodds’ term—a ‘Southern Rim’ around the South Polar region (Dodds Geopolitics). They exist in ambiguous relationship to each other. Although the five cities signed a Statement of Intent in 2009 committing them to collaboration, they continue to compete vigorously for northern hemisphere traffic and the brand identity of the most prominent global gateway. A state government brochure spruiks Hobart, for example, as the “perfect Antarctic Gateway” emphasising its uniqueness and “natural advantages” in this regard (Tasmanian Government, 2016). In practice, the cities are automatically differentiated by their geographic position with respect to Antarctica. Although the ‘ice continent’ is often conceived as one entity, it too has regions, in both scientific and geographical senses (Terauds and Lee; Antonello). Hobart provides access to parts of East Antarctica, where the Australian, French, Japanese, and Chinese programs (among others) have bases; Cape Town is a useful access point for Europeans going to Dronning Maud Land; Christchurch is closest to the Ross Sea region, site of the largest US base; and Punta Arenas and Ushuaia neighbour the Antarctic Peninsula, home to numerous bases as well as a thriving tourist industry.The Antarctic sector is important to the Tasmanian economy, contributing $186 million (AUD) in 2017/18 (Wells; Gutwein; Tasmanian Polar Network). Unsurprisingly, Tasmania’s gateway brand has been actively promoted, with the 2016 Australian Antarctic Strategy and 20 Year Action Plan foregrounding the need to “Build Tasmania’s status as the premier East Antarctic Gateway for science and operations” and the state government releasing a “Tasmanian Antarctic Gateway Strategy” in 2017. The Chinese Antarctic program has been a particular focus: a Memorandum of Understanding focussed on Australia and China’s Antarctic relations includes a “commitment to utilise Australia, including Tasmania, as an Antarctic ‘gateway’.” (Australian Antarctic Division). These efforts towards a closer relationship with China have more recently come under attack as part of a questioning of China’s interests in the region (without, it should be noted, a concomitant questioning of Australia’s own considerable interests) (Baker 9). In these exchanges, a global power and a state of Australia generally classed as regional and peripheral are brought into direct contact via the even more remote Antarctic region. This connection was particularly visible when Chinese President Xi Jinping travelled to Hobart in 2014, in a visit described as both “strategic” and “incongruous” (Burden). There can be differences in how this relationship is narrated to domestic and international audiences, with issues of sovereignty and international cooperation variously foregrounded, laying the ground for what Dodds terms “awkward Antarctic nationalism” (1).Territory and ConnectionsThe awkwardness comes to a head in Tasmania, where domestic and international views of connections with the far south collide. Australia claims sovereignty over almost 6 million km2 of the Antarctic continent—a claim that in area is “roughly the size of mainland Australia minus Queensland” (Bergin). This geopolitical context elevates the importance of a regional part of Australia: the claims to Antarctic territory (which are recognised only by four other claimant nations) are performed not only in Antarctic localities, where they are made visible “with paraphernalia such as maps, flags, and plaques” (Salazar 55), but also in Tasmania, particularly in Hobart and surrounds. A replica of Mawson’s Huts in central Hobart makes Australia’s historic territorial interests in Antarctica visible an urban setting, foregrounding the figure of Douglas Mawson, the well-known Australian scientist and explorer who led the expeditions that proclaimed Australia’s sovereignty in the region of the continent roughly to its south (Leane et al.). Tasmania is caught in a balancing act, as it fosters international Antarctic connections (such hosting vessels from other national programs), while also playing a key role in administering what is domestically referred to as the Australian Antarctic Territory. The rhetoric of protection can offer common ground: island studies scholar Godfrey Baldacchino notes that as island narratives have moved “away from the perspective of the ‘explorer-discoverer-colonist’” they have been replaced by “the perspective of the ‘custodian-steward-environmentalist’” (49), but reminds readers that a colonising disposition still lurks beneath the surface. It must be remembered that terms such as “stewardship” and “leadership” can undertake sovereignty labour (Dodds “Awkward”), and that Tasmania’s Antarctic connections can be mobilised for a range of purposes. When Environment Minister Greg Hunt proclaimed at a press conference that: “Hobart is the gateway to the Antarctic for the future” (26 Apr. 2016), the remark had meaning within discourses of both sovereignty and economics. Tasmania’s capital was leveraged as a way to position Australia as a leader in the Antarctic arena.From ‘Gateway’ to ‘Antarctic City’While discussion of Antarctic ‘Gateway’ Cities often focuses on the economic and logistical benefit of their Antarctic connections, Hobart’s “gateway” identity, like those of its counterparts, stretches well beyond this, encompassing geological, climatic, historical, political, cultural and scientific links. Even the southerly wind, according to cartoonist Jon Kudelka, “has penguins in it” (Image 3). Hobart residents feel a high level of connection to Antarctica. In 2018, a survey of 300 randomly selected residents of Greater Hobart was conducted under the umbrella of the “Antarctic Cities” Australian Research Council Linkage Project led by Assoc. Prof. Juan Francisco Salazar (and involving all three present authors). Fourteen percent of respondents reported having been involved in an economic activity related to Antarctica, and 36% had attended a cultural event about Antarctica. Connections between the southern continent and Hobart were recognised as important: 71.9% agreed that “people in my city can influence the cultural meanings that shape our relationship to Antarctica”, while 90% agreed or strongly agreed that Hobart should play a significant role as a custodian of Antarctica’s future, and 88.4% agreed or strongly agreed that: “How we treat Antarctica is a test of our approach to ecological sustainability.” Image 3: “The Southerly” Demonstrates How Weather Connects Hobart and Antarctica. Image Credit: Jon Kudelka, Reproduced with Permission.Hobart, like the other gateways, activates these connections in its conscious place-branding. The city is particularly strong as a centre of Antarctic research: signs at the cruise-ship terminal on the waterfront claim that “There are more Antarctic scientists based in Hobart […] than at any other one place on earth, making Hobart a globally significant contributor to our understanding of Antarctica and the Southern Ocean.” Researchers are based at the Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies (IMAS), the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO), and the Australian Antarctic Division (AAD), with several working between institutions. Many Antarctic researchers located elsewhere in the world also have a connection with the place through affiliations and collaborations, leading journalist Jo Chandler to assert that “the breadth and depth of Hobart’s knowledge of ice, water, and the life forms they nurture […] is arguably unrivalled anywhere in the world” (86).Hobart also plays a significant role in Antarctica’s governance, as the site of the secretariats for the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR) and the Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels (ACAP), and as host of the Antarctic Consultative Treaty Meetings on more than one occasion (1986, 2012). The cultural domain is active, with Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery (TMAG) featuring a permanent exhibit, “Islands to Ice”, emphasising the ocean as connecting the two places; the Mawson’s Huts Replica Museum aiming (among other things) to “highlight Hobart as the gateway to the Antarctic continent for the Asia Pacific region”; and a biennial Australian Antarctic Festival drawing over twenty thousand visitors, about a sixth of them from interstate or overseas (Hingley). Antarctic links are evident in the city’s natural and built environment: the dolerite columns of Mt Wellington, the statue of the Tasmanian Antarctic explorer Louis Bernacchi on the waterfront, and the wharfs that regularly accommodate icebreakers such as the Aurora Australis and the Astrolabe. Antarctica is figured as a southern neighbour; as historian Tom Griffiths puts it, Tasmanians “grow up with Antarctica breathing down their necks” (5). As an Antarctic City, Hobart mediates access to Antarctica both physically and in the cultural imaginary.Perhaps in recognition of the diverse ways in which a region or a city might be connected to Antarctica, researchers have recently been suggesting critical approaches to the ‘gateway’ label. C. Michael Hall points to a fuzziness in the way the term is applied, noting that it has drifted from its initial definition (drawn from economic geography) as denoting an access and supply point to a hinterland that produces a certain level of economic benefits. While Hall looks to keep the term robustly defined to avoid empty “local boosterism” (272–73), Gabriela Roldan aims to move the concept “beyond its function as an entry and exit door”, arguing that, among other things, the local community should be actively engaged in the Antarctic region (57). Leane, examining the representation of Hobart as a gateway in historical travel texts, concurs that “ingress and egress” are insufficient descriptors of Tasmania’s relationship with Antarctica, suggesting that at least discursively the island is positioned as “part of an Antarctic rim, itself sharing qualities of the polar region” (45). The ARC Linkage Project described above, supported by the Hobart City Council, the State Government and the University of Tasmania, as well as other national and international partners, aims to foster the idea of the Hobart and its counterparts as ‘Antarctic cities’ whose citizens act as custodians for the South Polar region, with a genuine concern for and investment in its future.Near and Far: Local Perspectives A changing climate may once again herald a shift in the identity of the Tasmanian islands. Recognition of the central role of Antarctica in regulating the global climate has generated scientific and political re-evaluation of the region. Antarctica is not only the planet’s largest heat sink but is the engine of global water currents and wind patterns that drive weather patterns and biodiversity across the world (Convey et al. 543). For example, Tas van Ommen’s research into Antarctic glaciology shows the tangible connection between increased snowfall in coastal East Antarctica and patterns of drought southwest Western Australia (van Ommen and Morgan). Hobart has become a global centre of marine and Antarctic science, bringing investment and development to the city. As the global climate heats up, Tasmania—thanks to its low latitude and southerly weather patterns—is one of the few regions in Australia likely to remain temperate. This is already leading to migration from the mainland that is impacting house prices and rental availability (Johnston; Landers 1). The region’s future is therefore closely entangled with its proximity to the far south. Salazar writes that “we cannot continue to think of Antarctica as the end of the Earth” (67). Shifting Antarctica into focus also brings Tasmania in from the margins. As an Antarctic city, Hobart assumes a privileged positioned on the global stage. This allows the city to present itself as central to international research efforts—in contrast to domestic views of the place as a small regional capital. The city inhabits dual identities; it is both on the periphery of Australian concerns and at the centre of Antarctic activity. Tasmania, then, is not in freefall, but rather at the forefront of a push to recognise Antarctica as entangled with its neighbours to the north.AcknowledgementsThis work was supported by the Australian Research Council under LP160100210.ReferencesAntonello, Alessandro. “Finding Place in Antarctica.” Antarctica and the Humanities. Eds. Peder Roberts, Lize-Marie van der Watt, and Adrian Howkins. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. 181–204.Australian Government. 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This paper argues that artist Dope Saint Jude is transforming South African hip-hop by queering a genre that has predominantly been male and heteronormative. Specifically, I analyse the opening skit of her music video “Keep in Touch” in order to unpack the ways which she revives Gayle, a gay language that adopted double-coded forms of speech during the apartheid era—a context in which homosexuals were criminalised. The use of Gayle and spaces close to the city centre of Cape Town (such as Salt River and Woodstock) speaks to the city as it was before it was transformed by the decline of industries due to the country’s adoption of neoliberal economics and, more recently, by the gentrification of these spaces. Dope Saint Jude therefore reclaims these city spaces through her use of gay modes of speech that have a long history in Cape Town and by positioning her work as hip-hop, which has been popular in the city for well over two decades. Her inclusion of transgender MC and DJ Angel Ho pushes the boundaries of hegemonic and binary conceptions of gender identity even further. In essence, Dope Saint Jude is transforming local hip-hop in a context that is shaped significantly by US cultural imperialism. The artist is also transforming our perspective of spaces that have been altered by neoliberal economics.Setting the SceneDope Saint Jude (DSJ) is a queer MC from Elsies River, a working class township located on Cape Town's Cape Flats in South Africa. Elsies River was defined as a “coloured” neighbourhood under the apartheid state's Group Areas Act, which segregated South Africans racially. With the aid of the Population Registration Act, citizens were classified, not merely along the lines of white, Asian, or black—black subjects were also divided into further categories. The apartheid state also distinguished between black and “coloured” subjects. Michael MacDonald contends that segregation “ordained blacks to be inferior to whites; apartheid cast them to be indelibly different” (11). Apartheid declared “African claims in South Africa to be inferior to white claims” and effectively claimed that black subjects “belonged elsewhere, in societies of their own, because their race was different” (ibid). The term “coloured” defined people as “mixed race” to separate communities that might otherwise have identified as black in the broad and inclusive sense (Erasmus 16). Racial categorisation was used to create a racial hierarchy with white subjects at the top of that hierarchy and those classified as black receiving the least resources and benefits. This frustrated attempts to establish broad alliances of black struggles against apartheid. It is in this sense that race is socially and politically constructed and continues to have currency, despite the fact that biologically essentialist understandings of race have been discredited (Yudell 13–14). Thanks to apartheid town planning and resource allocation, many townships on the Cape Flats were poverty-stricken and plagued by gang violence (Salo 363). This continues to be the case because post-apartheid South Africa's embrace of neoliberal economics failed to address racialised class inequalities significantly (Haupt, Static 6–8). This is the '90s context in which socially conscious hip-hop crews, such as Prophets of da City or Black Noise, came together. They drew inspiration from Black Consciousness philosophy via their exposure to US hip-hop crews such as Public Enemy in order to challenge apartheid policies, including their racial interpellation as “coloured” as distinct from the more inclusive category, black (Haupt, “Black Thing” 178). Prophets of da City—whose co-founding member, Shaheen Ariefdien, also lived in Elsies River—was the first South African hip-hop outfit to record an album. Whilst much of their work was performed in English, they quickly transformed the genre by rapping in non-standard varieties of Afrikaans and by including MCs who rap in African languages (ibid). They therefore succeeded in addressing key issues related to race, language, and class disparities in relation to South Africa's transition to democracy (Haupt, “Black Thing”; Haupt, Stealing Empire). However, as is the case with mainstream US hip-hop, specifically gangsta rap (Clay 149), South African hip-hop has been largely dominated by heterosexual men. This includes the more commercial hip-hop scene, which is largely perceived to be located in Johannesburg, where male MCs like AKA and Cassper Nyovest became celebrities. However, certain female MCs have claimed the genre, notably EJ von Lyrik and Burni Aman who are formerly of Godessa, the first female hip-hop crew to record and perform locally and internationally (Haupt, Stealing Empire 166; Haupt, “Can a Woman in Hip-Hop”). DSJ therefore presents the exception to a largely heteronormative and male-dominated South African music industry and hip-hop scene as she transforms it with her queer politics. While queer hip-hop is not new in the US (Pabón and Smalls), this is new territory for South Africa. Writing about the US MC Jean Grae in the context of a “male-dominated music industry and genre,” Shanté Paradigm Smalls contends,Heteronormativity blocks the materiality of the experiences of Black people. Yet, many Black people strive for a heteronormative effect if not “reality”. In hip hop, there is a particular emphasis on maintaining the rigidity of categories, even if those categories fail [sic]. (87) DSJ challenges these rigid categories. Keep in TouchDSJ's most visible entry onto the media landscape to date has been her appearance in an H&M recycling campaign with British Sri Lankan artist MIA (H&M), some fashion shoots, her new EP—Reimagine (Dope Saint Jude)—and recent Finnish, US and French tours as well as her YouTube channel, which features her music videos. As the characters’ theatrical costumes suggest, “Keep in Touch” is possibly the most camp and playful music video she has produced. It commences somewhat comically with Dope Saint Jude walking down Salt River main road to a public telephone, where she and a young woman in pig tails exchange dirty looks. Salt River is located at the foot of Devil's Peak not far from Cape Town's CBD. Many factories were located there, but the area is also surrounded by low-income housing, which was designated a “coloured” area under apartheid. After apartheid, neighbourhoods such as Salt River, Woodstock, and the Bo-Kaap became increasingly gentrified and, instead of becoming more inclusive, many parts of Cape Town continued to be influenced by policies that enable racialised inequalities. Dope Saint Jude calls Angel Ho: DSJ: Awêh, Angie! Yoh, you must check this kak sturvy girl here by the pay phone. [Turns to the girl, who walks away as she bursts a chewing gum bubble.] Ja, you better keep in touch. Anyway, listen here, what are you wys?Angel Ho: Ah, just at the salon getting my hair did. What's good? DSJ: Wanna catch on kak today?Angel Ho: Yes, honey. But, first, let me Gayle you this. By the jol by the art gallery, this Wendy, nuh. This Wendy tapped me on the shoulder and wys me, “This is a place of decorum.”DSJ: What did she wys?Angel Ho: De-corum. She basically told me this is not your house. DSJ: I know you told that girl to keep in touch!Angel Ho: Yes, Mama! I'm Paula, I told that bitch, “Keep in touch!” [Points index finger in the air.](Saint Jude, Dope, “Keep in Touch”)Angel Ho's name is a play on the male name Angelo and refers to the trope of the ho (whore) in gangsta rap lyrics and in music videos that present objectified women as secondary to male, heterosexual narratives (Sharpley-Whiting 23; Collins 27). The queering of Angelo, along with Angel Ho’s non-binary styling in terms of hair, make-up, and attire, appropriates a heterosexist, sexualised stereotype of women in order to create room for a gender identity that operates beyond heteronormative male-female binaries. Angel Ho’s location in a hair salon also speaks to stereotypical associations of salons with women and gay subjects. In a discussion of gender stereotypes about hair salons, Kristen Barber argues that beauty work has traditionally been “associated with women and with gay men” and that “the body beautiful has been tightly linked to the concept of femininity” (455–56). During the telephonic exchange, Angel Ho and Dope Saint Jude code-switch between standard and non-standard varieties of English and Afrikaans, as the opening appellation, “Awêh,” suggests. In this context, the term is a friendly greeting, which intimates solidarity. “Sturvy” means pretentious, whilst “kak” means shit, but here it is used to qualify “sturvy” and means that the girl at the pay phone is very pretentious or “full of airs.” To be “wys” means to be wise, but it can also mean that you are showing someone something or educating them. The meanings of these terms shift, depending on the context. The language practices in this skit are in line with the work of earlier hip-hop crews, such as Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap, to validate black, multilingual forms of speech and expression that challenge the linguistic imperialism of standard English and Afrikaans in South Africa, which has eleven official languages (Haupt, “Black Thing”; Haupt, Stealing Empire; Williams). Henry Louis Gates’s research on African American speech varieties and literary practices emerging from the repressive context of slavery is essential to understanding hip-hop’s language politics. Hip-hop artists' multilingual wordplay creates parallel discursive universes that operate both on the syntagmatic axis of meaning-making and the paradigmatic axis (Gates 49; Haupt, “Stealing Empire” 76–77). Historically, these discursive universes were those of the slave masters and the slaves, respectively. While white hegemonic meanings are produced on the syntagmatic axis (which is ordered and linear), black modes of speech as seen in hip-hop word play operate on the paradigmatic axis, which is connotative and non-linear (ibid). Distinguishing between Signifyin(g) / Signification (upper case, meaning black expression) and signification (lower case, meaning white dominant expression), he argues that “the signifier ‘Signification’ has remained identical in spelling to its white counterpart to demonstrate [. . .] that a simultaneous, but negated, parallel discursive (ontological, political) universe exists within the larger white discursive universe” (Gates 49). The meanings of terms and expressions can change, depending on the context and manner in which they are used. It is therefore the shared experiences of speech communities (such as slavery or racist/sexist oppression) that determine the negotiated meanings of certain forms of expression. Gayle as a Parallel Discursive UniverseDSJ and Angel Ho's performance of Gayle takes these linguistic practices further. Viewers are offered points of entry into Gayle via the music video’s subtitles. We learn that Wendy is code for a white person and that to keep in touch means exactly the opposite. Saint Jude explains that Gayle is a very fun queer language that was used to kind of mask what people were saying [. . .] It hides meanings and it makes use of women's names [. . . .] But the thing about Gayle is it's constantly changing [. . .] So everywhere you go, you kind of have to pick it up according to the context that you're in. (Ovens, Saint Jude and Haupt)According to Kathryn Luyt, “Gayle originated as Moffietaal [gay language] in the coloured gay drag culture of the Western Cape as a form of slang amongst Afrikaans-speakers which over time, grew into a stylect used by gay English and Afrikaans-speakers across South Africa” (Luyt 8; Cage 4). Given that the apartheid state criminalised homosexuals, Gayle was coded to evade detection and to seek out other members of this speech community (Luyt 8). Luyt qualifies the term “language” by arguing, “The term ‘language’ here, is used not as a constructed language with its own grammar, syntax, morphology and phonology, but in the same way as linguists would discuss women’s language, as a way of speaking, a kind of sociolect” (Luyt 8; Cage 1). However, the double-coded nature of Gayle allows one to think of it as creating a parallel discursive universe as Gates describes it (49). Whereas African American and Cape Flats discursive practices function parallel to white, hegemonic discourses, gay modes of speech run parallel to heteronormative communication. Exclusion and MicroaggressionsThe skit brings both discursive practices into play by creating room for one to consider that DSJ queers a male-dominated genre that is shaped by US cultural imperialism (Haupt, Stealing Empire 166) as a way of speaking back to intersectional forms of marginalisation (Crenshaw 1244), which are created by “white supremacist capitalist patriarchy” (hooks 116). This is significant in South Africa where “curative rape” of lesbians and other forms of homophobic violence are prominent (cf. Gqola; Hames; Msibi). Angel Ho's anecdote conveys a sense of the extent to which black individuals are subject to scrutiny. Ho's interpretation of the claim that the gallery “is a place of decorum” is correct: it is not Ho's house. Black queer subjects are not meant to feel at home or feel a sense of ownership. This functions as a racial microaggression: “subtle insults (verbal, nonverbal, and/or visual) directed toward people of color, often automatically or unconsciously” (Solorzano, Ceja, and Yosso 60). This speaks to DSJ's use of Salt River, Woodstock, and Bo-Kaap for the music video, which features black queer bodies in performance—all of these spaces are being gentrified, effectively pushing working class people of colour out of the city (cf. Didier, Morange, and Peyroux; Lemanski). Gustav Visser explains that gentrification has come to mean a unit-by-unit acquisition of housing which replaces low-income residents with high-income residents, and which occurs independent of the structural condition, architecture, tenure or original cost level of the housing (although it is usually renovated for or by the new occupiers). (81–82) In South Africa this inequity plays out along racial lines because its neoliberal economic policies created a small black elite without improving the lives of the black working class. Instead, the “new African bourgeoisie, because it shares racial identities with the bulk of the poor and class interests with white economic elites, is in position to mediate the reinforcing cleavages between rich whites and poor blacks without having to make more radical changes” (MacDonald 158). In a news article about a working class Salt River family of colour’s battle against an eviction, Christine Hogg explains, “Gentrification often means the poor are displaced as the rich move in or buildings are upgraded by new businesses. In Woodstock and Salt River both are happening at a pace.” Angel Ho’s anecdote, as told from a Woodstock hair salon, conveys a sense of what Woodstock’s transformation from a coloured, working class Group Area to an upmarket, trendy, and arty space would mean for people of colour, including black, queer subjects. One could argue that this reading of the video is undermined by DSJ’s work with global brand H&M. Was she was snared by neoliberal economics? Perhaps, but one response is that the seeds of any subculture’s commercial co-option lie in the fact it speaks through commodities (for example clothing, make-up, CDs, vinyl, or iTunes / mp3 downloads (Hebdige 95; Haupt, Stealing Empire 144–45). Subcultures have a window period in which to challenge hegemonic ideologies before they are delegitimated or commercially co-opted. Hardt and Negri contend that the means that extend the reach of corporate globalisation could be used to challenge it from within it (44–46; Haupt, Stealing Empire 26). DSJ utilises her H&M work, social media, the hip-hop genre, and international networks to exploit that window period to help mainstream black queer identity politics.ConclusionDSJ speaks back to processes of exclusion from the city, which was transformed by apartheid and, more recently, gentrification, by claiming it as a creative and playful space for queer subjects of colour. She uses Gayle to lay claim to the city as it has a long history in Cape Town. In fact, she says that she is not reviving Gayle, but is simply “putting it on a bigger platform” (Ovens, Saint Jude, and Haupt). The use of subtitles in the video suggests that she wants to mainstream queer identity politics. Saint Jude also transforms hip-hop heteronormativity by queering the genre and by locating her work within the history of Cape hip-hop’s multilingual wordplay. ReferencesBarber, Kristin. “The Well-Coiffed Man: Class, Race, and Heterosexual Masculinity in the Hair Salon.” Gender and Society 22.4 (2008): 455–76.Cage, Ken. “An Investigation into the Form and Function of Language Used by Gay Men in South Africa.” Rand Afrikaans University: MA thesis, 1999.Clay, Andreana. “‘I Used to Be Scared of the Dick’: Queer Women of Color and Hip-Hop Masculinity.” Home Girls Make Some Noise: Hip Hop Feminism Anthology. Ed. Gwendolyn D. Pough, Elain Richardson, Aisha Durham, and Rachel Raimist. California: Sojourns, 2007.Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Sexual Politics: African Americans, Gender, and the New Racism. New York: Routledge, 2005. Crenshaw, Kimberle. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color”. Stanford Law Review 43.6 (1991): 1241–299.Didier, Sophie, Marianne Morange, and Elisabeth Peyroux. “The Adaptative Nature of Neoliberalism at the Local Scale: Fifteen Years of City Improvement Districts in Cape Town and Johannesburg.” Antipode 45.1 (2012): 121–39.Erasmus, Zimitri. “Introduction.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001. Gates, Henry Louis. The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of Afro-American Literary Criticism. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1988.Gqola, Pumla Dineo. Rape: A South African Nightmare. Johannesburg: Jacana, 2015.Hames, Mary. “Violence against Black Lesbians: Minding Our Language.” Agenda 25.4 (2011): 87–91.Hardt, Michael, and Antonio Negri. Empire. London: Harvard UP, 2000.Haupt, Adam. “Can a Woman in Hip Hop Speak on Her Own Terms?” Africa Is a Country. 23 Mar. 2015. <http://africasacountry.com/2015/03/the-double-consciousness-of-burni-aman-can-a-woman-in-hip-hop-speak-on-her-own-terms/>.Haupt, Adam. Static: Race & Representation in Post-Apartheid Music, Media & Film. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2012. Haupt, Adam. Stealing Empire: P2P, Intellectual Property and Hip-Hop Subversion. Cape Town: HSRC Press, 2008. Haupt, Adam. “Black Thing: Hip-Hop Nationalism, ‘Race’ and Gender in Prophets of da City and Brasse vannie Kaap.” Coloured by History, Shaped by Place. Ed. Zimitri Erasmus. Cape Town: Kwela Books & SA History Online, 2001. Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Routledge, 1979.Hogg, Christine. “In Salt River Gentrification Often Means Eviction: Family Set to Lose Their Home of 11 Years.” Ground Up. 15 June 2016. <http://www.groundup.org.za/article/salt-river-gentrification-often-means-eviction/>.hooks, bell. Outlaw: Culture: Resisting Representations. New York: Routledge, 1994.Lemanski, Charlotte. “Hybrid Gentrification in South Africa: Theorising across Southern and Northern Cities.” Urban Studies 51.14 (2014): 2943–60.Luyt, Kathryn. “Gay Language in Cape Town: A Study of Gayle – Attitudes, History and Usage.” University of Cape Town: MA thesis, 2014.MacDonald, Michael. Why Race Matters in South Africa. University of Kwazulu-Natal Press: Scottsville, 2006.Msibi, Thabo. “Not Crossing the Line: Masculinities and Homophobic Violence in South Africa”. Agenda. 23.80 (2009): 50–54.Pabón, Jessica N., and Shanté Paradigm Smalls. “Critical Intimacies: Hip Hop as Queer Feminist Pedagogy.” Women & Performance: A Journal of Feminist Theory (2014): 1–7.Salo, Elaine. “Negotiating Gender and Personhood in the New South Africa: Adolescent Women and Gangsters in Manenberg Township on the Cape Flats.” Journal of European Cultural Studies 6.3 (2003): 345–65.Solórzano, Daniel, Miguel Ceja, and Tara Yosso. “Critical Race Theory, Racial Microaggressions, and Campus Racial Climate: The Experiences of African American College Students.” Journal of Negro Education 69.1/2 (2000): 60–73.Sharpley-Whiting, T. Denean. Pimps Up, Ho’s Down: Hip Hop’s Hold on Young Black Women. New York: New York UP, 2007.Smalls, Shanté Paradigm. “‘The Rain Comes Down’: Jean Grae and Hip Hop Heteronormativity.” American Behavioral Scientist 55.1 (2011): 86–95.Visser, Gustav. “Gentrification: Prospects for Urban South African Society?” Acta Academica Supplementum 1 (2003): 79–104.Williams, Quentin E. “Youth Multilingualism in South Africa’s Hip-Hop Culture: a Metapragmatic Analysis.” Sociolinguistic Studies 10.1 (2016): 109–33.Yudell, Michael. “A Short History of the Race Concept.” Race and the Genetic Revolution: Science, Myth, and Culture. Ed. Sheldon Krimsky and Kathleen Sloan. New York: Columbia UP, 2011.InterviewsOvens, Neil, Dope Saint Jude, and Adam Haupt. One FM Radio interview. Cape Town. 21 Apr. 2016.VideosSaint Jude, Dope. “Keep in Touch.” YouTube. 23 Feb. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2ux9R839lE>. H&M. “H&M World Recycle Week Featuring M.I.A.” YouTube. 11 Apr. 2016. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7MskKkn2Jg>. MusicSaint Jude, Dope. 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Stakeholders involved in debates around climate-energy policy shape public conversations through different “frames”: message units that strategically emphasize particular aspects of an issue while downplaying others. I investigate the presence of frames within climate change discourse and their political influence in the creation of climate-energy policies. Findings suggest that science frames may play a limited role when it comes to the development of actual climate policy at the state level, and importantly, that the strategic use of issue frames was able to level the playing field between environmental advocates and historically dominant industry actors. This work thus contributes to ongoing debates in the climate change framing literature by considering the “real world” of political communication coupled with an on-the-ground policy conflict.

Motivating the political will necessary for fair and ambitious climate change policies is significantly complicated by the rise of populism. Right-wing populist communication targets civil servants and intellectuals as conspirators furthering a climate agenda for their own self-interest. Yet, despite the real world implications of populist communication, more work is needed to both (1) understand the presence of populist frames in media communication on climate change and (2) untangle the relationships between the far-right and diverse forms of climate skepticism. Completing a content analysis of newspaper opinion pieces and Fox News programing between 2008 and 2020, I find that populist skeptic frames are an important part of media communication on climate change in both the Wall Street Journal and Fox News. Additionally, I find that populist skeptic frames most commonly use process skeptic claims, leveraging conspiratorial language to describe collusion between the government and scientists to falsify the severity of climate change and control the public for their own gain. Using a survey experiment, I find that higher populist attitudes are negatively associated with both belief in climate change and support for climate mitigation policies among Republicans. Conversely, I do not find a significant effect of exposure to a populist process skeptic frame, prompting the need for more work on the connections between populist skeptic framing and climate change attitudes.

Waves are a primary factor in beach health, sediment transport, safety, internal nutrient loading, and coastal erosion, the latter of which has increased along Lake Michigan's western coastline since 2014. While high water levels are undoubtedly the primary cause of this erosion, the recent losses may also be indicative of changes in the lake's wind-driven waves. This study seeks to examine long-term trends in the magnitude and direction of Lake Michigan waves, including extreme waves and storm events using buoy measurements (National Data Buoy Center Buoys 45002 and 45007) and the United States Army Corps of Engineers Wave Information Study (USACE WIS) wave hindcast.

Tests show significant long-term decreases in annual mean wave height in the lake's southern basin (up to -1.5mm/yr). When wave-approach direction was removed by testing directional bins for trends independently, an increase in the extent of the affected coast and rate of the shrinking waves was found (up to -4mm/yr). A previously unseen increasing trend in wave size in the northern basin (up to 2mm/yr) was also revealed.

Data from the WIS model indicated that storm duration and peak wave height in the southern basin has decreased at an averaged rate of -0.085hr/yr and -5mm/yr, respectively, from 1979 to 2017. An analysis of the extreme value distribution's shape in the southern basin found a similar pattern in the WIS hindcast model, with the probability of observing a wave larger than 5 meters decreasing by about -0.0125yr^-1. In the northern basin, the probability of observing a wave of the same size increased at a rate of 0.0075yr^-1.

The results for trends in the annual means revealed the importance of removing temporal- and spatial-within-series dependencies, in wave-height data. The strong dependence of lake waves on approach direction, as compared to ocean waves, may result from the relatively large differences in fetch length in the enclosed body of water. Without removal or isolation of these dependencies trends may be lost. Additionally, removal of the seasonal component in lake water level and mean wave-height series revealed that there was no significant correlation between these series.

Does increased participation of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) improve the democratic quality at intergovernmental organizations (IGOs)? Multilateral institutions and global governance mechanisms have emerged during the past few decades to tackle global challenges, such as climate change. However, policy making institutions such as IGOs are often viewed as lacking democratic legitimacy. The decision- making process remains tied to nation-states represented often by non-elected delegates, yet the decisions affect people who do not have a say in the process. One remedy proposed by global governance scholars to close such democratic deficit is to include a variety of stakeholders such as non-governmental actors. I challenge the conventional wisdom that assumes the democratic potential of these actors, and unpack the “blackbox” of NGOs to assess their internal politics.

Tropical ecosystems play a key role in regulating the global climate and the carbon cycle thanks to the large amounts of water and carbon exchanged with the atmosphere. These biogeochemical fluxes are largely the result of high photosynthetic rates. Photosynthetic activity is highly dependent on climate and vegetation, and therefore can be easily modified along with changes in those two factors. A better understanding of what drives or alters photosynthetic activity in the tropics will lead to more accurate predictions of climate and subsequent effects on ecosystems. The seasonal pattern of photosynthetic activity is one of the main uncertainties that we still have about tropical ecosystems. However, this seasonality of tropical vegetation and its relationship to climate change and land cover is key to understanding how these ecosystems could be affected and have an effect on climate.

In this dissertation, I present three projects to improve our understanding about tropical ecosystems and how their photosynthetic activity is affected by climate and land cover change. The lack of field-based data has been one of the main limiting factors in our study of tropical ecosystems. Therefore, in these projects I extensively use remote sensing-derived data to analyze large scale and long term patterns. In the first study, I looked at the seasonal relationship between photosynthetic activity and climate, and how model simulations represent it. Vegetation in most of the tropics is either positively correlated with both water and light, or positively correlated with one of them and negatively with the other. Ecosystem models largely underestimate positive correlations with light and overestimate positive correlations with water. In the second study, I focus on the effect of land cover change in photosynthetic activity and transpiration in a highly deforested region in the Amazon. I find that land cover change decreases tropical forests photosynthetic activity and transpiration during the dry season. Also, land cover change increases the range of photosynthetic activity and transpiration in forests and shrublands. These effects are intensified with increasing land cover change. In the last project, I quantify the amount of change in evapotranspiration due to land cover change in the entire Amazon basin. Our remote sensing-derived estimates are well aligned with model predictions published in the past three decades. These results increase our confidence in climate models representation of evapotranspiration in the Amazon.

Findings from this dissertation highlight (1) the importance of the close relationship between climate and photosynthetic activity and (2) how land cover change is altering that relationship. We hope our results can build on our knowledge about tropical ecosystems and how they could change in the future. We also expect our analysis to be used for model benchmarking and tropical ecosystem monitoring.

Droughts are complex natural disasters caused due to deficit in water availability over a region. Water availability is strongly linked to precipitation in many parts of the world that rely on monsoonal rains. Recent studies indicate that the choice of precipitation datasets and drought indices could influence drought analysis. Therefore, drought characteristics for the Indian monsoon region were reassessed for the period 1901-2004 using two different datasets and standard precipitation index (SPI), standardized precipitation-evapotranspiration index (SPEI), Gaussian mixture model-based drought index (GMM-DI), and hidden Markov model-based drought index (HMM-DI). Drought trends and variability were analyzed for three epochs: 1901-1935, 1936-1970 and 1971-2004. Irrespective of the dataset and methodology used, the results indicate an increasing trend in drought severity and frequency during the recent decades (1971-2004). Droughts are becoming more regional and are showing a general shift to the agriculturally important coastal south-India, central Maharashtra, and Indo‑Gangetic plains indicating food security challenges and socioeconomic vulnerability in the region.

Drought severities are commonly reported using drought classes obtained by assigning pre-defined thresholds on drought indices. Current drought classification methods ignore modeling uncertainties and provide discrete drought classification. However, the users of drought classification are often interested in knowing inherent uncertainties in classification so that they can make informed decisions. A probabilistic Gamma mixture model (Gamma-MM)-based drought index is proposed as an alternative to deterministic classification by SPI. The Bayesian framework of the proposed model avoids over-specification and overfitting by choosing the optimum number of mixture components required to model the data - a problem that is often encountered in other probabilistic drought indices (e.g., HMM-DI). When sufficient number of components are used in Gamma-MM, it can provide a good approximation to any continuous distribution in the range (0,infinity), thus addressing the problem of choosing an appropriate distribution for SPI analysis. The Gamma-MM propagates model uncertainties to drought classification. The method is tested on rainfall data over India. A comparison of the results with standard SPI shows significant differences, particularly when SPI assumptions on data distribution are violated.

Finding regions with similar drought characteristics is useful for policy-makers and water resources planners in the optimal allocation of resources, developing drought management plans, and taking timely actions to mitigate the negative impacts during droughts. Drought characteristics such as intensity, frequency, and duration, along with land-use and geographic information, were used as input features for clustering algorithms. Three methods, namely, (i) a Bayesian graph cuts algorithm that combines the Gaussian mixture model (GMM) and Markov random fields (MRF), (ii) k-means, and (iii) hierarchical agglomerative clustering algorithm were used to find homogeneous drought regions that are spatially contiguous and possess similar drought characteristics. The number of homogeneous clusters and their shape was found to be sensitive to the choice of the drought index, the time window of drought, period of analysis, dimensionality of input datasets, clustering method, and model parameters of clustering algorithms. Regionalization for different epochs provided useful insight into the space-time evolution of homogeneous drought regions over the study area. Strategies to combine the results from multiple clustering methods were presented. These results can help policy-makers and water resources planners in the optimal allocation of resources, developing drought management plans, and taking timely actions to mitigate the negative impacts during droughts.

With dwindling water supplies and the impacts of climate change, many cities are turning to water sources previously considered unusable. One such source for inland cities is brackish groundwater. With prolonged drought throughout Texas, cities such as El Paso, Lubbock, and San Antonio are desalinating brackish groundwater to supplement existing water sources. Similar projects are under consideration elsewhere in Texas. While brackish groundwater contains fewer total dissolved solids than seawater, desalination of brackish groundwater is still an energy-intensive process. Brackish water desalination using reverse osmosis, the most common desalination membrane treatment process, consumes 20 to 40 times more energy than traditional surface water treatment using local water sources. This additional energy consumption leads to increased carbon emissions when using fossil fuel-generated electricity. As a result of concern over greenhouse gas emissions from additional energy consumption, some desalination plants are powered by wind-generated electricity. West Texas is a prime area for desalination of brackish groundwater using wind power, since both wind and brackish groundwater resources are abundant in the area. Most of the Texas Panhandle and Plains region has wind resource potential classified as Class 3 or higher. Additionally, brackish groundwater is found at depths less than 150 m in most of west Texas. This combination of wind and brackish groundwater resources presents opportunities for the production of alternative drinking water supplies without severe carbon emissions. Additionally, since membrane treatment is not required to operate continuously, desalination matches well with variable wind power. Implementing a brackish groundwater desalination project using wind-generated electricity requires economic feasibility, in addition to the geographic availability of the two resources. Using capital and operating cost data for wind turbines and desalination membranes, we conducted a thermoeconomic analysis for three parameters: 1) transmission and transport, 2) geographic proximity, and 3) aquifer volume. Our first parameter analyzes the cost effectiveness of tradeoffs between building infrastructure to transmit wind-generated electricity to the desalination facility versus pipelines to transport brackish groundwater to the wind turbines. Secondly, we estimate the maximum distance between the wind turbines and brackish groundwater at which desalination using wind power remains economically feasible. Finally, we estimate the minimum available brackish aquifer volume necessary to make such a project profitable. Our analysis illustrates a potential drinking water option for Texas (and other parts of the world with similar conditions) using renewable energy to treat previously unusable water. Harnessing these two resources in an economically efficient manner may help reduce future strain on the energy-water nexus.