Peter Black
April 3, 2024
Local Journalism Initiative reporter
peterblack@qctonline.com
One might hope a little good would come from this total eclipse fever. Like maybe imposing a little cosmic context on humanity to the point of realizing how utterly insignificant Planet Earth is in the grand unknowable scheme of things.
Not to get too dark, but an eclipse is not likely to spark a global epiphany and bring an end to human cruelty, brutality and criminality in the name of race, creed or greed. Nothing seems to humble the arrogant and foolish species befouling this jewel of a rock in space.
There is, on the other hand, a solar phenomenon that is not an eclipse that has the potential to, if not send humanity back to the Stone Age, cause damage to our precious technology-driven civilization on an apocalyptic scale.
We take you back 35 years, to March 13, 1989, a Monday. At 9:27 p.m., what is called “a coronal mass ejection” – a bit of solar flatulence, if you will – wafted to the Earth.
As described in a recent article on solar storm watchers in The New Yorker, “Within 90 seconds, transformers on the Quebec power grid malfunctioned, dozens of safety mechanisms failed, and the entire grid shut down, leaving almost a quarter of the population of Canada in the dark.”
The massive outage lasted nine hours and became known as the Great Quebec Blackout. Surprisingly, it was not the fault of the federal government. Rather, the culprit, according to scientists, was Quebec’s particular geomorphology, notably the hard rock of the Laurentian shield that does not absorb energy very well. When the solar storm hit, the energy was transferred to the Hydro-Québec power grid, which overloaded.
The 1989 solar storm was the least severe of four major events of the like recorded by scientists in recent history. The worst, in September 1859, is known as the Carrington event, in recognition of the British astronomer who happened to be observing the sun at the time and noted the flare.
That solar outburst had rather sci-fi consequences, with telegraph systems sending “fantastical and unreadable messages,” according to one U.S. newspaper report.
Another storm struck in May 1921. During that event, according to the New Yorker story, “‘electric fluid’ leaping from a telegraph switchboard set on fire a railroad station in Brewster, New York, while stray voltage on railway signals and switching systems halted trains in Manhattan.”
A 2008 report examining the impact of a Carrington-sized storm on today’s modern infrastructure concluded, “Extensive damage to satellites would compromise everything from communications to national security, while extensive damage to the power grid would compromise everything: health care, transportation, agriculture, emergency response, water and sanitation, the financial industry, the continuity of government.”
Do we have your attention now, Earthlings?
Although solar storms are happening all the time with negligible impact, the reason there is suddenly heightened interest in the phenomenon is that 2025 will be the peak of what’s called the solar cycle.
As a NASA website explains, “Every 11 years or so, the sun’s magnetic field completely flips. This means that the sun’s north and south poles switch places. Giant eruptions on the sun, such as solar flares and coronal mass ejections, also increase during the solar cycle. These eruptions send powerful bursts of energy and material into space.”
So how well are we prepared for a major solar storm, the so-called one-in-a-hundred-year blast?
Hydro-Québec, for its part, says it learned a lot from the massive outage of 1989 and a solar storm has not disrupted the utility’s grid since. It says it has taken various steps to reduce risk to the system, such as reducing the transmission load when solar storms are forecast. Still, what about the Big One?
As we gaze through our protective glasses with awe and wonder at the total eclipse, we might spare a thought for how we’d deal with the nasty side of our marvellous sun.
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