So, we've got 20 years before the sh.. hits the fan(s) have we? Never mind, James Lovelock won't be here to say "I told you so" as we fry and die (eating powdered nematodes as our last meal, perhaps). He is the grandfather of doom with a cheerful smile and an irritating habit of being right. In last Saturday's Guardian he uses an interesting analogy about humans and war, which focuses the mind and creates ("enjoyable"?) collaborative behaviour, apparently:
So, do we just throw in the towel, party, party, party and watch it happen? Personally, I'm all for tilting at those windmills, and betting on the human race not following the foibles of fabled fantasist Don Quixote.