Nowhere has the interest been more serious
than Japan. Unlike Britain and the United States, the Japanese failed to become
“the owners, or at any rate, the controllers” of any significant amount of oil.
(Not that Tokyo didn’t try: it bombed Pearl Harbor mainly to prevent the U.S.
from blocking its attempted conquest of the oil-rich Dutch East Indies.) Today,
Churchill’s nightmare has come true for Japan: it is a military and industrial
power almost wholly dependent on foreign energy. It is the world’s third-biggest
net importer of crude oil, the second-biggest importer of coal, and the biggest
importer of liquefied natural gas. Not once has a Japanese politician expressed
happiness at this state of affairs.
Japan’s methane-hydrate program began in
1995. Its scientists quickly focused on the Nankai Trough, about 200 miles
southwest of Tokyo, an undersea earthquake zone where two pieces of the Earth’s
crust jostle each other. Step by step, year by year, a state-owned enterprise
now called the Japan Oil, Gas, and Metals National Corporation (JOGMEC) dug test wells, made
measurements, and obtained samples of the hydrate deposits: 130-foot layers of
sand and silt, loosely held together by methane-rich ice. The work was careful,
slow, orderly, painstakingly analytical—the kind of process that seems intended
to snuff out excited newspaper headlines. But it progressed with the same
remorselessness that in the 1960s and ’70s had transformed offshore oil wells
from Waterworld-style exoticisms to mainstays of the world economy.
In January, 18 years after the Japanese
program began, the Chikyu left the Port of Shimizu, midway up
the main island’s eastern coastline, to begin a “production” test—an attempt to
harvest usefully large volumes of gas, rather than laboratory samples. Many
questions remained to be answered, the project director, Koji Yamamoto, told me
before the launch. JOGMEC hadn’t
figured out the best way to mine hydrate, or how to ship the resultant natural
gas to shore. Costs needed to be brought down. “It will not be ready for 10
years,” Yamamoto said. “But I believe it will be ready.” What would happen
then, he allowed, would be “interesting.”
Already the petroleum industry has been
convulsed by hydraulic fracturing, or “fracking”—a technique for shooting water
mixed with sand and chemicals into rock, splitting it open, and releasing
previously inaccessible oil, referred to as “tight oil.” Still more important,
fracking releases natural gas, which, when yielded from shale, is known as
shale gas. (Petroleum is a grab-bag term for all nonsolid
hydrocarbon resources—oil of various types, natural gas, propane, oil
precursors, and so on—that companies draw from beneath the Earth’s surface. The
stuff that catches fire around stove burners is known by a more precise term, natural
gas, referring to methane, a colorless, odorless gas that has the same
chemical makeup no matter what the source—ordinary petroleum wells, shale beds,
or methane hydrate.) Fracking has been attacked as an environmental menace to
underground water supplies, and may eventually be greatly restricted. But it
has also unleashed so much petroleum in North America that the International
Energy Agency, a Paris-based consortium of energy-consuming nations, predicted
in November that by 2035, the United States will become “all but
self-sufficient in net terms.” If the Chikyu researchers are
successful, methane hydrate could have similar effects in Japan. And not just
in Japan: China, India, Korea, Taiwan, and Norway are looking to unlock these
crystal cages, as are Canada and the United States.
Not everyone thinks JOGMEC will succeed. But methane
hydrate is being developed in much the same methodical way that shale gas was
developed before it, except by a bigger, more international group of
researchers. Shale gas, too, was subject to skepticism wide and loud. The egg
on naysayers’ faces suggests that it would be foolish to ignore the prospects
for methane hydrate—and more foolish still not to consider the potential
consequences.
If methane hydrate allows much of the world
to switch from oil to gas, the conversion would undermine governments that
depend on oil revenues, especially petro-autocracies like Russia, Iran,
Venezuela, Iraq, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia. Unless oil states are exceptionally
well run, a gush of petroleum revenues can actually weaken their economies by
crowding out other business. Worse, most oil nations are so corrupt that social
scientists argue over whether there is an inherent bond—a “resource
curse”—between big petroleum deposits and political malfeasance. It seems safe
to say that few Americans would be upset if a plunge in demand eliminated these
countries’ hold over the U.S. economy. But those same people might not relish
the global instability—a belt of financial and political turmoil from Venezuela
to Turkmenistan—that their collapse could well unleash.
On a broader level still, cheap, plentiful
natural gas throws a wrench into efforts to combat climate change. Avoiding the
worst effects of climate change, scientists increasingly believe, will require
“a complete phase-out of carbon emissions … over 50 years,” in the words
of one widely touted scientific estimate that appeared in January. A big,
necessary step toward that goal is moving away from coal, still the
second-most-important energy source worldwide. Natural gas burns so much
cleaner than coal that converting power plants from coal to gas—a switch
promoted by the deluge of gas from fracking—has already reduced U.S.
greenhouse-gas emissions to their lowest levels since Newt Gingrich’s heyday.
Yet natural gas isn’t that clean;
burning it produces carbon dioxide. Researchers view it as a temporary “bridge
fuel,” something that can power nations while they make the transition away
from oil and coal. But if societies do not take advantage of that bridge to
enact anti-carbon policies, says Michael Levi, the director of the Program on
Energy Security and Climate Change at the Council on Foreign Relations, natural
gas could be “a bridge from the coal-fired past to the coal-fired future.”
“Methane hydrate could be a new energy
revolution,” Christopher Knittel, a professor of energy economics at the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, told me. “It could help the world while
we reduce greenhouse gases. Or it could undermine the economic rationale for
investing in renewable, carbon-free energy around the world”—just as abundant
shale gas from fracking has already begun to undermine it in the United States.
“The one path is a boon. The other—I’ve used words like catastrophe.”
He paused; I thought I detected a sigh. “I wouldn’t bet on us making the right
decisions.”
Entradas
ESA
