Some Like It Temperate

I want to share something that took me a while to understand, but once I did, it changed my understanding of the world around me. I’m not a scientist, so I’m probably not going to get this exactly perfect, and I’ll defer to professional judgment, but maybe I can help illustrate the underlying concept.

So temperature is not the same thing as hot and cold. In fact, temperature and heat aren’t really bound together inherently. On earth, they’re usually correlated, and as humans, our sensory organs perceive them through the same mechanism in relative terms, which is why we usually think of them together. This sensory shortcut works for most of the human experience, but it can become confusing and counterintuitive when we try to look at systems of physics outside the scope of an everyday life. 

So what is temperature? Well, in the purest sense, temperature is a measure of the average kinetic energy among a group of particles. How fast are they going, how often are they bumping into each other, and how much energy are they giving off when they do? This is how temperature and phase of matter correlate. So liquid water has a higher temperature than ice because its molecules are moving around more, with more energy. Because the molecules are moving around more, liquid water is less dense, which it’s easier to cut through water than ice. Likewise, it’s easier still to cut through steam than water. Temperature is a measure of molecular energy, not hotness. Got it? Good, because it’s about to get complicated.

So something with more energy has a higher temperature. This works for everything we’re used to thinking about as being hot, but it applies in a wider context. Take radioactive material. Or don’t, because they’re dangerous. Radioactivity is dangerous because it has a lot of energy, and is throwing it off in random directions. Something that’s radioactive won’t necessarily feel hot, because the way it gives off radiation isn’t the way our sensory organs are calibrated. You can pick up an object with enough radiated energy to shred through the material in your cells and kill you, and have it feel like room temperature. That’s what happened to the firemen at Chernobyl. 

In a technical sense, radioactive materials have a high temperature, since they’re giving off lots of energy. That’s what makes them dangerous. At the same time, though, you could get right up next to highly enriched nuclear materials (and under no circumstances should you ever try this), without feeling warm. You will feel something eventually, as your cells react to being ripped apart by, a hail of neutrons and other subatomic particles. You might feel heat as your cells become irradiated and give off their own energy, but not from the nuclear materials themselves. Also if this happens, it’s too late to get help. So temperature isn’t necessarily what we think about it.

Space is another good example. We call space “cold”, because water freezes when exposed to it. And space will feel cold, since it will immediately suck all the carefully hoarded energy out of any body part exposed to it. But actually, space, at least within the solar system, has a very high temperature wherever it encounters particles, for the same reason as above. The sun is a massive ongoing thermonuclear explosion that makes even our largest atom bombs jealous. There is a great deal of energy flying around the empty space of the solar system at any given moment, it just doesn’t have any particles to give its energy to. This is why the top layer of the atmosphere, the thermosphere, has a very high temperature, despite being totally inhospitable, and why astronauts are at increased cancer risk. 

This confusion is why most scientists who are dealing with fields like chemistry, physics, or astronomy use the Kelvin scale. One degree in the Kelvin scale, or one kelvin, is equivalent to one degree Celsius. However, unlike Celsius, where zero is the freezing point of water, zero kelvins is known as Absolute Zero, a so-far theoretical temperature where there is no movement among the involved particles. This is harder to achieve than it sounds, for a variety of complicated quantum reasons, but consider that body temperature is 310 K, in a scale where one hundred is the entire difference between freezing and boiling. Some of our attempts so far to reach absolute zero have involved slowing down individual particles by suspending them in lasers, which has gotten us close, but those last few degrees are especially tricky. 

Kelvin scale hasn’t really caught on in the same way as Celsius, perhaps because it’s an unwieldy three digits for anything in the normal human range. And given that the US is still dragging their feet about Celsius, which goes back to the French Revolution, not a lot of people are willing to die on that hill. But the Kelvin scale does underline an important point of distinction between temperature as a universal property of physics, from the relative, subjective, inconsistent way that we’re used to feeling it in our bodies.

Which is perhaps interesting, but I said this was relevant to looking at the world, so how’s that true? Sure, it might be more scientifically rigorous, but that’s not always essential. If you’re a redneck farm boy about to jump into the crick, Newtonian gravity is enough without getting into quantum theory and spacetime distortion, right?
Well, we’re having a debate on this planet right now about something referred to as “climate change”, a term which has been promoted in favor over the previous term “global warming”. Advocates of doing nothing have pointed out that, despite all the graphs, it doesn’t feel noticeably warmer. Certainly, they point out, the weather hasn’t been warmer, at least not consistently, on a human timescale. How can we be worried about increased temperature if it’s not warmer?

And, for as much as I suspect the people presenting these arguments to the public have ulterior motives, whether they are economic or political, it doesn’t feel especially warmer, and it’s hard to dispute that. Scientists, for their part, have pointed out that they’re examining the average temperature over a prolonged period, producing graphs which show the trend. They have gone to great lengths to explain the biggest culprit, the greenhouse effect, which fortunately does click nicely with our intuitive human understanding. Greenhouses make things warmer, neat. But not everyone follows before and after that. 

I think part of what’s missing is that scientists are assuming that everyone is working from the same physics-textbook understanding of temperature and energy. This is a recurring problem for academics and researchers, especially when the 24-hour news cycle (and academic publicists that feed them) jump the gun and snatch results from scientific publications without translating the jargon for the layman. If temperature is just how hot it feels, and global warming means it’s going to feel a couple degrees hotter outside, it’s hard to see how that gets to doomsday predictions, and requires me to give up plastic bags and straws. 

But as we’ve seen, temperature can be a lot more than just feeling hot and cold. You won’t feel hot if you’re exposed to radiation, and firing a laser at something seems like a bad way to freeze it. We are dealing on a scale that requires a more consistent rule than our normal human shortcuts. Despite being only a couple of degrees temperature, the amount of energy we’re talking about here is massive. If we say the atmosphere is roughly 5×10^18 kilograms, and the amount of energy it takes to raise a kilogram of air one kelvin is about 1Kj, then we’re looking at 5,000,000,000,000,000,000 Kilojoules. 

That’s a big number; what does it mean? Well, if my math is right, that’s about 1.1 million megatons of TNT. A megaton is a unit used to measure the explosive yield of strategic nuclear weapons. The nuclear bomb dropped on Nagasaki, the bigger of the two, was somewhere in the ballpark of 0.02 megatons. The largest bomb ever detonated, the Tsar Bomba, was 50 megatons. The total energy expenditure of all nuclear testing worldwide is estimated at about 510 megatons, or about 0.05% of the energy we’re introducing with each degree of climate change. 

Humanity’s entire current nuclear arsenal is estimated somewhere in the ballpark of 14,000 bombs. This is very much a ballpark figure, since some countries are almost certainly bluffing about what weapons they do and don’t have, and how many. The majority of these, presumably, are cheaper, lower-yield tactical weapons. Some, on the other hand, will be over-the-top monstrosities like the Tsar Bomba. Let’s generously assume that these highs and lows average out to about one megaton apiece. Suppose we detonated all of those at once. I’m not saying we should do this; in fact, I’m going to go on record as saying we shouldn’t. But let’s suppose we do, releasing 14,000 megatons of raw, unadulterated atom-splitting power in a grand, civilization-ending bonanza. In that instant, we would do have unleashed approximately one percent of the energy as we are adding in each degree of climate change. 

This additional energy means more power for every hurricane, wildfire, flood, tornado, drought, blizzard, and weather system everywhere on earth. The additional energy is being absorbed by glaciers, which then have too much energy to remain frozen, and so are melting, raising sea levels. The chain of causation is complicated, and involves understanding of phenomena which are highly specialized and counterintuitive to our experience from most of human existence. Yet when we examine all of the data, it is the pattern that seems to emerge. Whether or not we fully understand the patterns at work, this is the precarious situation in which our species finds itself.