During the late 1970s, some members of the United States Congress introduced seminal legislation to ameliorate what they believed to be the economic costs of climatic change. Concerned that American society had become too sensitive to the stresses of even minor climatic fluctuations as manifest in recent weather-related crises, many felt that congressional legislation was necessary to foster greater cooperation between various groups—state climatologists; agricultural researchers; local, state, and federal policy makers; private and public industries. The hope was that greater coordination of the nation’s economic and scientific resources would stimulate a more flexible and resilient society, while allowing the implementation of a more service-driven approach to climate governance. Despite congressional urgency, however, the Carter Administration—specifically the Office of Management and Budget and the Office of Science and Technology Policy—challenged congressional efforts on the grounds that accommodating user needs was both scientifically unjustified and politically irresponsible. Relying heavily on what officials perceived to be the collective judgment of federal science administrators and agency heads, the Administration favored instead a more research-oriented climate program committed to improving the reliability of climate prediction and more effectively coordinating a national response. Even after President Carter reluctantly signed the National Climate Program Act in September 1978, the Administration nonetheless persisted in its effort to stifle the implementation of a service-oriented program.

After World War II, German‐American climatologist Helmut Landsberg sought to realize his war‐time vision for an American ‘climatological renaissance.’ Given the dramatic degradation of European science during the war, he believed that the United States offered the best hope to strengthen and reformulate what he considered to be the stale tradition of conceiving climatology as a geographical discipline. Inhabiting high‐level positions within the American geophysical establishment after the war, his primary goal was to develop the tools and resources to analyze and interpret the overwhelming amounts of data that had been amassed over the centuries while, simultaneously, making climatology relevant to American life. However, there were limits. As someone who had invested his professional life in making climatology a useful discipline, Landsberg grew increasingly concerned that public debates about climate threatened his vision for a climatological renaissance. During the last two decades of his life, he became fixated on maintaining his ideal that climatology was not a glamorous discipline, and objected vehemently to those who sought to counter what he considered to be its true character. WIREs Clim Change 2017, 8:e442. doi: 10.1002/wcc.442 This article is categorized under: Climate, History, Society, Culture > Thought Leaders

How the rhetoric of moderation has shaped the US government’s approach to risk, from nuclear fear to climate policy.

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During the 1970s, widespread scientific interest in the risks of climate change prompted John A. Eddy (1931-2009), an astrophysicist with the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, CO, to investigate whether sunspots could be used to predict future climate changes. Methodologically, Eddy's investigations were uniquely historical in nature. By interrogating old manuscripts of solar observations since the early seventeenth century, he identified what appeared to be a correlation between the so-called Maunder Minimum - a virtual cessation of sunspots between 1645 and 1715 - and severely cold temperatures during the Little Ice Age. While he could not identify the physical mechanisms that governed solar-climate relationships, this historical episode fostered his curiosity. Fortuitously, Eddy's solar-climate research coincided with efforts to use satellites to monitor and record variations in solar energy output, which in context constituted a significant development in managing environmental and technological risk. But using the Maunder Minimum to advance the frontiers of knowledge about solar-terrestrial relationships was not Eddy's only - or even primary - motivation. In the mid-1840s, German astronomer Heinrich Schwabe (1789-1875) discovered what appeared to be a decadal sunspot cycle, the existence of which inspired generations of astrophysicists to more precisely estimate its length as well as determine its underlying causes. Eddy, however, came to believe that the astronomical community failed to consider the implications of subsequent evidence suggesting that Schwabe's solar cycle was not an enduring characteristic of the sun. Instead, he reasoned that evidence offered by nineteenth-century European astronomers Gustav Sporer and Edward Maunder in the 1880s and 1890s had been entirely overlooked. But rather than arguing that their evidence was overlooked in error, Eddy identified what he cast as a conspiracy of wilful ignorance on the part of a staid and conservative astronomical community. By utilizing Eddy's private hand-written notes as they appeared in undergraduate lectures, public speeches and academic talks, as well as his appreciation for the seminal views of sociologist of science Thomas Kuhn, I show that Eddy sought to rectify this injustice by proposing a contrasting vision of science as an interdisciplinary, collaborative and creative process of exploring the ignored areas between scientific disciplines.