Last weekend, the first real snowstorm of the year descended on the San Juans. Pearly gray clouds swept in, snagging on peaks and obscuring their faded brown slopes. In town, heavy flakes dissolved as quickly as they fell. But when the clouds lifted, a reassuring blanket of white draped the mountains. After a hot, dry fall, the snow was an encouraging sign of normalcy. Days later, the sky cleared to a cloudless blue as I filled out my ballot and carried it downtown. The temperature was warm again, 15 degrees above the historical average, and brown already patched the peaks. As I walked, I worried that the weekend’s snowstorm was a fluke and that the coming winter would be dry. I worried my vote wouldn’t be enough to prevent another dry winter next year and the next and the next. And I worried about the alarming shift in the national conversation about climate change that I noticed during this year’s election.
It’s not just that climate change has taken a backseat to pressing issues like abortion or the Israel-Hamas War. Nor is it that Harris cannot seem to promote clean energy without mentioning her support of the oil and gas industry. No, something else about the national dialogue has troubled me — something that became crystal clear during the vice-presidential debate in early October.
I was only half paying attention to the debate, simultaneously typing applications to graduate school, when the conversation turned to climate change. I set my computer aside immediately. The moderators described how climate change intensifies major hurricanes like Helene — an accurate statement that represents the scientific consensus — and asked how candidates would address it. JD Vance answered first, stating “Let’s just say that’s true, just for the sake of argument, so we’re not arguing about weird science.”
Weird science. Though it’s possible that “weird” was a dig at Tim Walz, who used the word to describe Donald Trump earlier this summer, I think Vance’s word choice was more sinister. “Weird” casts doubt. It confines its subject to the fringes, where it can be safely ignored by the normal. “Weird” is utterly dismissive. Vance’s rhetoric did not just cast doubt on climate change; it denied the validity of climate science itself. This is a notable and concerning shift in the Trump administration’s rhetoric — one that we need to acknowledge. But we haven’t. Vance’s comments were ignored: the moderators did not fact check him effectively, Walz did not call him out, and there was no major public discussion afterwards.
A Trump administration that doesn’t believe in science endangers all of America, but it is especially perilous to southwest Colorado. Without hydrology informing the extensive water infrastructure of the western U.S., the arid Colorado Plateau would have no access to water. Without fire ecology guiding prescribed burns, the Uncompahgre National Forest would have no tools for reducing the risk of extreme wildfires. Without climate science quantifying extreme floods and mudslides, CDOT couldn’t design resilient roads. It is impossible to live in southwest Colorado and not believe in science; the foundations of our lives depend on it. During Trump’s first presidency, he attempted to slash the budgets of the Department of the Interior, the Army Corps of Engineers and the Environmental Protection Agency — major agencies that conduct science and manage infrastructure in the western U.S. Vance’s willingness to dismiss science on national television suggests Trump’s environmental policies have only become more extreme, jeopardizing our safety.
Looking to the future, we need a government that believes in science to address the climate crisis. Though climate change is a daunting threat, I am confident that we possess the scientific and technological capabilities to mitigate anthropogenic impacts and create a safe and sustainable future. And I am determined to help create this future. The graduate school applications that I typed during the debate were for programs in climate and earth science, where I plan to study climate change and water in the western U.S. But a Trump presidency will obstruct efforts to address the climate crisis. As I edited my applications after the debate, I was painfully aware that if Trump wins, studying climate and earth science won’t matter, even if I find an impossible silver bullet solution to the water crisis or identify a critical tipping point for the desertification of the entire western U.S. Because no one will be listening. I, and countless other scientists, will be dismissed as weird.
I dropped my ballot in the box, casting my vote for a future in which science could make a difference. I turned toward home and pulled out my phone, scrolling aimlessly through the weather forecast. I looked hopefully for the next snowstorm, but saw only sun emojis.
Madeleine Burns recently graduated from Princeton, where she studied environmental engineering with a focus on hydrology. She currently lives in Telluride and works as a Scientists in Parks intern, analyzing climate change in national parks.
This post was originally published on here
