Guest Essay by Willis Eschenbach

Abstract
The Thermostat Hypothesis is that tropical clouds and thunderstorms, along with other emergent phenomena like dust devils, tornadoes, and the El Nino/La Nina alteration, actively regulate the temperature of the earth. This keeps the earth at an equilibrium temperature.
Several kinds of evidence are presented to establish and elucidate the Thermostat Hypothesis – historical temperature stability of the Earth, theoretical considerations, satellite photos, and a description of the equilibrium mechanism.
Historical Stability
The stability of the earth’s temperature over time has been a long-standing climatological puzzle. The globe has maintained a temperature of ± ~ 3% (including ice ages) for at least the last half a billion years during which we can estimate the temperature. During the Holocene, temperatures have not varied by ±1%. And during the glaciation periods, the temperature was generally similarly stable as well.
In contrast to Earth’s temperature stability, solar physics has long indicated (Gough, 1981; Bahcall et al., 2001) that 4 billion years ago the total solar irradiance was about three-quarters of the current value. In early geological times, however, the earth was not correspondingly cooler. Temperature proxies such as deuterium/hydrogen ratios and 16O/18O ratios show no sign of a corresponding warming of the earth over this time. Why didn’t the earth warm as the sun warmed?
This is called the “Faint Early Sun Paradox” (Sagan and Mullen, 1972), and is usually explained by positing an early atmosphere much richer in greenhouse gases than the current atmosphere.
However, this would imply a gradual decrease in GHG forcing which exactly matched the incremental billion-year increase in solar forcing to the present value. This seems highly unlikely.
A much more likely candidate is some natural mechanism that has regulated the earth’s temperature over geological time.
Theoretical Considerations
Bejan (Bejan 2005) has shown that the climate can be robustly modeled as a heat engine, with the ocean and the atmosphere being the working fluids. The tropics are the hot end of the heat engine. Some of that tropical heat is radiated back into space. Work is performed by the working fluids in the course of transporting the rest of that tropical heat to the Poles. There, at the cold end of the heat engine, the heat is radiated into space. Bejan showed that the existence and areal coverage of the Hadley cells is a derivable result of the Constructal Law. He also showed how the temperatures of the flow system are determined.
“We pursue this from the constructal point of view, which is that the [global] circulation itself represents a flow geometry that is the result of the maximization of global performance subject to global constraints.”
“The most power that the composite system could produce is associated with the reversible operation of the power plant. The power output in this limit is proportional to

where q is the total energy flow through the system (tropics to poles), and TH and TL are the high and low temperatures (tropical and polar temperatures in Kelvins).
The system works ceaselessly to maximize that power output. Here is a view of the entire system that transports heat from the tropics to the poles.

Figure 1. The Earth as a Heat Engine. The equatorial Hadley Cells provide the power for the system. Over the tropics, the sun (orange arrows) is strongest because it hits the earth most squarely. The length of the orange arrows shows relative sun strength. Warm dry air descends at about 30N and 30S, forming the great desert belts that circle the globe. Heat is transported by a combination of the ocean and the atmosphere to the poles. At the poles, the heat is radiated to space.
In other words, flow systems such as the Earth’s climate do not assume a stable temperature willy-nilly. They reshape their own flow in such a way as to maximize the energy produced and consumed. It is this dynamic process, and not a simple linear transformation of the details of the atmospheric gas composition, which sets the overall working temperature range of the planet.
Note that the Constructal Law says that any flow system will “quasi-stabilize” in orbit around (but never achieve) some ideal state. In the case of the climate, this is the state of maximum total power production and consumption. And this in turn implies that any watery planet will oscillate around some equilibrium temperature, which is actively maintained by the flow system. See the paper by Ou listed below for further information on the process.
Climate Governing Mechanism
Every heat engine has a throttle. The throttle is the part of the engine that controls how much energy enters the heat engine. A motorcycle has a hand throttle. In an automobile, the throttle is called the gas pedal. It controls incoming energy.
The stability of the earth’s temperature over time (including alternating bi-stable glacial/interglacial periods), as well as theoretical considerations, indicates that this heat engine we call climate must have some kind of governor controlling the throttle.
While all heat engines have a throttle, not all of them have a governor. In a car, a governor is called “Cruise Control”. Cruise control is a governor that controls the throttle (gas pedal). A governor adjusts the energy going to the car engine to maintain a constant speed regardless of changes in internal and external forcing (e.g. hills, winds, engine efficiency, and losses).
We can narrow the candidates for this climate governing mechanism by noting first that a governor controls the throttle (which in turn controls the energy supplied to a heat engine). Second, we note that a successful governor must be able to drive the system beyond the desired result (overshoot).
(Note that a governor, which contains a hysteresis loop capable of producing overshoot, is different from a simple negative feedback of the type generally described by the IPCC. A simple negative feedback can only reduce an increase. It cannot maintain a steady state despite differing forcings, variable loads, and changing losses. Only a governor can do that.)
The majority of the earth’s absorption of heat from the sun takes place in the tropics. The tropics, like the rest of the world, are mostly ocean; and the land that is there is wet. The steamy tropics, in a word. There is little ice there, so the clouds control how much energy enters the climate heat engine.
I propose that two interrelated but separate mechanisms act directly to regulate the earth’s temperature — tropical cumulus and cumulonimbus clouds. Cumulus clouds are the thermally-driven fluffy “cotton ball” clouds that abound near the surface on warm afternoons. Cumulonimbus clouds are thunderstorm clouds, which start life as simple cumulus clouds. Both types of clouds are part of the throttle control, reducing incoming energy. In addition, the cumulonimbus clouds are active refrigeration-cycle heat engines, which provide the necessary overshoot to act as a governor on the system.
A pleasant thought experiment shows how this cloud governor works. It’s called “A Day In the Tropics”.
I live in the deep, moist tropics, at 9°S, with a view of the South Pacific Ocean from my windows. Here’s what a typical day looks like. In fact, it’s a typical summer day everywhere in the Tropics. The weather report goes like this:
Clear and calm at dawn. Light morning winds, clouding up towards noon. In the afternoon, increasing clouds and wind with showers and thundershowers developing as the temperature rises. Thunderstorms continuing after dark, and clearing some time between sunset and early hours of the morning, with progressive clearing and calming until dawn.
That’s the most common daily cycle of tropical weather, common enough to be a cliché around the world.
It is driven by the day/night variations in the strength of the sun’s energy. Before dawn, the atmosphere is typically calm and clear. As the ocean (or moist land) heats up, air temperature and evaporation increase. Warm moist air starts to rise. Soon the rising moist air cools and condenses into clouds. The clouds reflect the sunlight. That’s the first step of climate regulation. Increased temperature leads to clouds. The clouds close the throttle slightly, reducing the energy entering the system. They start cooling things down. This is the negative feedback part of the cloud climate control.
The tropical sun is strong, and despite the negative feedback from the cumulus clouds, the day continues to heat up. The more the sun hits the ocean, the more warm, moist air is formed, and the more cumulus clouds form. This, of course, reflects more sun, and the throttle closes a bit more. But the day continues to warm.
The full development of the cumulus clouds sets the stage for the second part of temperature regulation. This is not simply negative feedback. It is the climate governing system. As the temperature continues to rise, as the evaporation climbs, some of the fluffy cumulus clouds suddenly transform themselves. They rapidly extend skywards, quickly thrusting up to form cloud pillars thousands of meters high. In this way, cumulus clouds are transformed into cumulonimbus or thunderstorm clouds.
The columnar body of the thunderstorm acts as a huge vertical heat pipe. The thunderstorm sucks up warm, moist air at the surface and shoots it skyward. At altitude the water condenses, transforming the latent heat into sensible heat. The air is rewarmed by this release of sensible heat and continues to rise within the thunderstorm tower.
At the top, the rising much dryer air is released from the cloud up high, way above most of the CO2, water vapor, and other greenhouse gases. In that rarified atmosphere, the air is much freer to radiate to space. By moving inside the thunderstorm heat pipe, the rising air bypasses any interaction with most greenhouse gases and comes out near the top of the troposphere. During the transport aloft, there is no radiative or turbulent interaction between the rising air inside the tower and the surrounding lower and middle troposphere. Inside the thunderstorm, the rising air is tunneled through most of the troposphere to emerge at the top.
In addition to reflecting sunlight from their top surface as cumulus clouds do, and transporting heat to the upper troposphere where it radiates easily to space, thunderstorms cool the surface in a variety of other ways, particularly over the ocean.
1. Wind driven evaporative cooling. Once the thunderstorm starts, it creates its own wind around the base. This self-generated wind increases evaporation in several ways, particularly over the ocean.
a) Evaporation rises linearly with wind speed. At a typical squall wind speed of 10 meters per second (“m/s”, about 20 knots or 17 miles per hour), evaporation is about ten times greater than at “calm” conditions (conventionally taken as 1 m/s).
b) The wind increases evaporation by creating spray and foam, and by blowing water off of trees and leaves. These greatly increase the evaporative surface area, because the total surface area of the millions of droplets is evaporating as well as the actual surface itself.
c) To a lesser extent, the surface area is also increased by wind-created waves (a wavy surface has a larger evaporative area than a flat surface).
d) Wind-created waves in turn greatly increase turbulence in the atmospheric boundary layer. This increases evaporation by mixing dry air down to the surface and moist air upwards.
e) As spray rapidly warms to air temperature, which in the tropics can be warmer than ocean temperature, evaporation also rises above the sea surface evaporation rate.
2. Wind and wave driven albedo increase. The white spray, foam, spindrift, changing angles of incidence, and white breaking wave tops greatly increase the albedo of the sea surface. This reduces the energy absorbed by the ocean.
3. Cold rain and cold wind. As the moist air rises inside the thunderstorm’s heat pipe, water condenses and falls. Since the water is originating from condensing or freezing temperatures aloft, it cools the lower atmosphere it falls through, and it cools the surface when it hits. Also, the droplets are being cooled as they fall by evaporation.
In addition, the falling rain entrains a cold wind. This cold wind blows radially outwards from the center of the falling rain, cooling the surrounding area. This is quite visible in the video below.
4. Increased reflective area. White fluffy cumulus clouds are not very tall, so basically they only reflect from the tops. On the other hand, the vertical pipe of the thunderstorm reflects sunlight along its entire length. This means that thunderstorms reflect sunlight from an area of the ocean out of proportion to their footprint, particularly in the late afternoon.
5. Modification of upper tropospheric ice crystal cloud amounts (Lindzen 2001, Spencer 2007). These clouds form from the tiny ice particles that come out of the smokestack of the thunderstorm heat engines. It appears that the regulation of these clouds has a large effect, as they are thought to warm (through IR absorption) more than they cool (through reflection).
6. Enhanced night-time radiation. Unlike long-lived stratus clouds, cumulus and cumulonimbus often die out and vanish in the early morning hours, leading to the typically clear skies at dawn. This allows greatly increased nighttime surface radiative cooling to space.
7. Delivery of dry air to the surface. The air being sucked from the surface and lifted to altitude is counterbalanced by a descending flow of replacement air emitted from the top of the thunderstorm. This descending air has had the majority of the water vapor stripped out of it inside the thunderstorm, so it is relatively dry. The dryer the air, the more moisture it can pick up for the next trip to the sky. This increases the evaporative cooling of the surface.
8. Increased radiation through descending dry air. The descending dry air mentioned above is far more transparent to surface radiation than normal moist tropical air. This increases overall radiation to space.
In part because they utilize such a wide range of cooling mechanisms, cumulus clouds and thunderstorms are extremely good at cooling the surface of the earth. Together, they form the governing mechanism for the tropical temperature.
But where is that mechanism?
The problem with my thought experiment of describing a typical tropical day is that it is always changing. The temperature goes up and down, the clouds rise and fall, day changes to night, the seasons come and go. Where in all of that unending change is the governing mechanism? If everything is always changing, what keeps it the same month to month and year to year? If conditions are always different, what keeps it from going off the rails?
In order to see the governor at work, we need a different point of view. We need a point of view without time. We need a timeless view without seasons, a point of view with no days and nights. And curiously, in this thought experiment called “A Day In the Tropics”, there is such a timeless point of view, where not only is there no day and night, but where it’s always summer.
The point of view without day or night, the point of view from which we can see the climate governor at work, is the point of view of the sun. Imagine that you are looking at the earth from the sun. From the sun’s point of view, there is no day and night. All parts of the visible face of the earth are always in sunlight—the sun never sees the nighttime. And it’s always summer under the sun.
If we accept the convenience that the north is up, then as we face the earth from the sun, the visible surface of the earth is moving from left to right as the planet rotates. So the left-hand edge of the visible face is always at sunrise, and the right-hand edge is always at sunset. Noon is a vertical line down the middle. From this timeless point of view, morning is always and forever on the left, and afternoon is always on the right. In short, by shifting our point of view, we have traded time coordinates for space coordinates. This shift makes it easy to see how the governor works.
The tropics stretch from left to right across the circular visible face. We see that near the left end of the tropics, after sunrise, there are very few clouds. Clouds increase as you look further to the right. Around the noon line, there are already cumulus. And as we look from left to right across the right side of the visible face of the earth, towards the afternoon, more and more cumulus clouds and increasing numbers of thunderstorms cover a large amount of the tropics.
It is as though there is a graduated mirror shade over the tropics, with the fewest cloud mirrors on the left, slowly increasing to extensive cloud mirrors and thunderstorm coverage on the right.
After coming up with this hypothesis that as seen from the sun, the right-hand side of the deep tropical Pacific Ocean would have more clouds than the left-hand side), I thought “Hey, that’s a testable proposition to support or demolish my hypothesis”. So in order to investigate whether this postulated increase in clouds on the right-hand side of the Pacific actually existed, I took an average of 24 pictures of the Pacific Ocean taken at local noon on the 1st and 15th of each month over an entire year. I then calculated the average change in albedo and thus the average change in forcing at each time. Here is the result:

Figure 2. Average of one year of GOES-West weather satellite images taken at satellite local noon. The Intertropical Convergence Zone is the bright band in the yellow rectangle. Local time on earth is shown by black lines on the image. Time values are shown at the bottom of the attached graph. The red line on the graph is the solar forcing anomaly (in watts per square meter) in the area outlined in yellow. The black line is the albedo value in the area outlined in yellow.
The graph below the image of the earth shows the albedo and solar forcing in the yellow rectangle which contains the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone. Note the sharp increase in the albedo between 10:00 and 11:30. You are looking at the mechanism that keeps the earth from overheating. It causes a change in insolation of -60 W/m2 between ten and noon.
Now, consider what happens if for some reason the surface of the tropics is a bit cool. The sun takes longer to heat up the surface. Evaporation doesn’t rise until later in the day. Clouds are slow to appear. The first thunderstorms form later, fewer thunderstorms form, and if it’s not warm enough those giant surface-cooling heat engines don’t form at all.
And from the point of view of the sun, the entire mirrored shade shifts to the right, letting more sunshine through for longer. The 60 W/m2 reduction in solar forcing doesn’t take place until later in the day, increasing the local insolation.
When the tropical surface gets a bit warmer than usual, the mirrored shade gets pulled to the left, and clouds form earlier. Hot afternoons drive thunderstorm formation, which cools and air conditions the surface. In this fashion, a self-adjusting cooling shade of thunderstorms and clouds keeps the afternoon temperature within a narrow range.
Now, some scientists have claimed that clouds have a positive feedback. Because of this, the areas where there are more clouds will end up warmer than areas with fewer clouds. This positive feedback is seen as the reason that clouds and warmth are correlated.
I and others take the opposite view of that correlation. I hold that the clouds are caused by the warmth, not that the warmth is caused by the clouds.
Fortunately, we have way to determine whether changes in the reflective tropical umbrella of clouds and thunderstorms are caused by (and thus limiting) overall temperature rise, or whether an increase in clouds is causing the overall temperature rise. This is to look at the change in albedo with the change in temperature. Here are two views of the tropical albedo, taken six months apart. August is the warmest month in the Northern Hemisphere. As indicated, the sun is in the North. Note the high albedo (areas of light blue) in all of North Africa, China, and the northern part of South America and Central America. By contrast, there is low albedo in Brazil, Southern Africa, and Indonesia/Australia.

Figure 3. Monthly Average Albedo. Timing is half a year apart. August is the height of summer in the Northern Hemisphere. February is the height of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. Light blue areas are the most reflective (greatest albedo)
In February, on the other hand, the sun is in the South. The albedo situation is reversed. Brazil and Southern Africa and Australasia are warm under the sun. In response to the heat, clouds form, and those areas now have a high albedo. By contrast, the north now has a low albedo, with the exception of the reflective Sahara and Rub Al Khali Deserts.
Clearly, the cloud albedo (from cumulus and cumulonimbus) follows the sun north and south, keeping the earth from overheating. This shows quite definitively that rather than the warmth being caused by the clouds, the clouds are caused by the warmth.
Quite separately, these images show in a different way that warmth drives cloud formation. We know that during the summer, the land warms more than the ocean. If temperature is driving the cloud formation, we would expect to see a greater change in the albedo over land than over the ocean. And this is clearly the case. We see in the North Pacific and the Indian Ocean that the sun increases the albedo over the ocean, particularly where the ocean is shallow. But the changes in the land are in general much larger than the changes over the ocean. Again this shows that the clouds are forming in response to, and are therefore limiting, increasing warmth.
How the Governor Works
Tropical cumulus production and thunderstorm production are driven by air density. Air density is a function of temperature (affecting density directly) and evaporation (water vapor is lighter than air).
A thunderstorm is both a self-generating and self-sustaining heat engine. The working fluids are moisture-laden warm air and liquid water. Self-generating means that whenever it gets hot enough over the tropical ocean, which is almost every day, at a certain level of temperature and humidity, some of the fluffy cumulus clouds suddenly start changing. The tops of the clouds streak upwards, showing the rising progress of the warm surface air. At altitude, the rising air exits the cloud, replace by more air from below. Suddenly, in place of a placid cloud, there is an active thunderstorm.
“Self-generating” means that thunderstorms arise spontaneously as a function of temperature and evaporation. They are what is called an “emergent” phenomenon, meaning that they emerge from th background when certain conditions are met. In the case of thunderstorms, this generally comes down to the passing of a temperature threshold.
Above the temperature threshold necessary to create the first thunderstorm, the number of thunderstorms rises rapidly. This rapid increase in thunderstorms limits the amount of temperature rise possible.
“Self-sustaining” means that once a thunderstorm gets going, it no longer requires the full initiation temperature necessary to get it started. This is because the self-generated wind at the base, plus dry air falling from above, combine to drive the evaporation rate way up. The thunderstorm is driven by air density. It requires a source of light air. The density of the air is determined by both temperature and moisture content (because curiously, water vapor at molecular weight 16 is only a bit more than half as heavy as air, which has a weight of about 29). So moist air is light air.
Evaporation is not a function of temperature alone. It is governed a complex mix of wind speed, water temperature, and vapor pressure. Evaporation is calculated by what is called a “bulk formula”, which means a formula based on experience rather than theory. One commonly used formula is:
E = VK(es – ea)
where
E = evaporation
V= wind speed (function of temperature difference [∆T])
K = coefficient constant
es = vapor pressure at evaporating surface (function of water temperature in degrees K to the fourth power)
ea = vapor pressure of overlying air (function of relative humidity and air temperature in degrees K to the fourth power)
The critical thing to notice in the formula is that evaporation varies linearly with wind speed. This means that evaporation near a thunderstorm can be an order of magnitude greater than evaporation a short distance away.
In addition to the changes in evaporation, there at least one other mechanism increasing cloud formation as wind increases. This is the wind-driven production of airborne salt crystals. The breaking of wind-driven waves produces these microscopic crystals of salt. The connection to the clouds is that these crystals are the main condensation nuclei for clouds that form over the ocean. The production of additional condensation nuclei, coupled with increased evaporation, leads to larger and faster changes in cloud production with increasing temperature.
Increased wind-driven evaporation means that to get the same air density, the surface temperature can be lower than the temperature required to initiate the thunderstorm. This means that the thunderstorm will still survive and continue cooling the surface to well below the starting temperature.
This ability to drive the temperature lower than the starting point is what distinguishes a governor from a negative feedback. A thunderstorm can do more than just reduce the amount of surface warming. It can actually mechanically cool the surface to below the required initiation temperature. This allows it to actively maintain a fixed temperature in the region surrounding the thunderstorm.
A key feature of this method of control (changing incoming power levels, performing work, and increasing thermal losses to quelch rising temperatures) is that the equilibrium temperature is not governed by changes in the amount of losses or changes in the forcings in the system. The equilibrium temperature is set by the response of wind and water and cloud to increasing temperature, not by the inherent efficiency of or the inputs to the system.
In addition, the equilibrium temperature is not affected much by changes in the strength of the solar irradiation. If the sun gets weaker, evaporation decreases, which decreases clouds, which increases the available sun. This is the likely answer the long-standing question of how the earth’s temperature has stayed stable over geological times, during which time the strength of the sun has increased markedly.
Gradual Equilibrium Variation and Drift
If the Thermostat Hypothesis is correct and the earth does have an actively maintained equilibrium temperature, what causes the slow drifts and other changes in the equilibrium temperature seen in both historical and geological times?
As shown by Bejan, one determinant of running temperature is how efficient the whole global heat engine is in moving the terawatts of energy from the tropics to the poles. On a geological time scale, the location, orientation, and elevation of the continental land masses is obviously a huge determinant in this regard. That’s what makes Antarctica different from the Arctic today. The lack of a land mass in the Arctic means warm water circulates under the ice. In Antarctica, the cold goes to the bone …
In addition, the oceanic geography which shapes the currents carrying warm tropical water to the poles and returning cold water (eventually) to the tropics is also a very large determinant of the running temperature of the global climate heat engine.
In the shorter term, there could be slow changes in the albedo. The albedo is a function of wind speed, evaporation, cloud dynamics, and (to a lesser degree) snow and ice. Evaporation rates are fixed by thermodynamic laws, which leave only wind speed, cloud dynamics, and snow and ice able to affect the equilibrium.
The variation in the equilibrium temperature may, for example, be the result of a change in the worldwide average wind speed. Wind speed is coupled to the ocean through the action of waves, and long-term variations in the coupled ocean-atmospheric momentum occur. These changes in wind speed may vary the equilibrium temperature in a cyclical fashion.
Or it may be related to a general change in color, type, or extent of either the clouds or the snow and ice. The albedo is dependent on the color of the reflecting substance. If reflections are changed for any reason, the equilibrium temperature could be affected. For snow and ice, this could be e.g. increased melting due to black carbon deposition on the surface. For clouds, this could be a color change due to aerosols or dust.
Finally, the equilibrium variations may relate to the sun. The variation in magnetic and charged particle numbers may be large enough to make a difference. There are strong suggestions that cloud cover is influenced by the 22-year solar Hale magnetic cycle, and this 14-year record only covers part of a single Hale cycle. However, I have yet to find any significant evidence of this effect on any surface weather variables, including clouds.
Conclusions and Musings
1. The sun puts out more than enough energy to totally roast the earth. It is kept from doing so by the clouds reflecting about a third of the sun’s energy back to space. As near as we can tell, over billions of years, this system of increasing cloud formation to limit temperature rises has never failed.
2. This reflective shield of clouds forms in the tropics in response to increasing temperature.
3. As tropical temperatures continue to rise, the reflective shield is assisted by the formation of independent heat engines called thunderstorms. These cool the surface in a host of ways, move heat aloft, and convert heat to work.
4. Like cumulus clouds, thunderstorms also form in response to increasing temperature.
5. Because they are temperature driven, as tropical temperatures rise, tropical thunderstorms and cumulus production increase. These combine to regulate and limit the temperature rise. When tropical temperatures are cool, tropical skies clear and the earth rapidly warms. But when the tropics heat up, cumulus and cumulonimbus put a limit on the warming. This system keeps the earth within a fairly narrow band of temperatures (e.g., a change of only 0.7°C over the entire 20th Century).
6. The earth’s temperature regulation system is based on the unchanging physics of wind, water, and cloud.
7. This is a reasonable explanation for how the temperature of the earth has stayed so stable (or more recently, bi-stable as glacial and interglacial) for hundreds of millions of years.
Further Reading
Bejan, A, and Reis, A. H., 2005, Thermodynamic optimization of global circulation and climate, Int. J. Energy Res.; 29:303–316. Available online here.
Richard S. Lindzen, Ming-Dah Chou, and A. Y. Hou, 2001, Does the Earth Have an Adaptive Infrared Iris?, doi: 10.1175/1520-0477(2001)082<0417:DTEHAA>2.3.CO;2, Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society: Vol. 82, No. 3, pp. 417–432. Available online here.
Ou, Hsien-Wang, Possible Bounds on the Earth’s Surface Temperature: From the Perspective of a Conceptual Global-Mean Model, Journal of Climate, Vol. 14, 1 July 2001. Available online here (pdf).
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ginckgo (21:16:47) :
Variability of UVB and global cloud cover
S.H. Larsen G.E. Bodeker E. Pallé 2007
.
Abstract. The role of Dimethyl Sulphide (DMS) in regulating climate has been the focus of much research in the last 20 years. In particular, that warmer ocean temperatures might increase the production of DMSP and subsequent flux of DMS to the atmosphere, increasing the number of cloud condensation nuclei and so cloud albedo and duration. In turn this could act to reduce solar heating of the surface, and such a negative feedback would act as a natural thermostat.
However, temperature is not the only environmental variable that may affect the production of DMS. Another forcing factor is the flux of ultraviolet (UV) light into the
oceans, Larsen (2005). It is hypothesised that increased UV decreases the flux of DMS to the atmosphere. In which case, cloud cover is reduced, further enhancing the flux of UV into the ocean, and vice versa. In this case a positive feedback would result. The oceans most likely to be susceptible to such a forcing are those where the mixing depth is lowest, and incoming solar-UV flux greatest. These include the subtropics (and higher latitude oceans in summer). The effect of variations in the solar flux on any DMS-climate link are therefore more complex – enhanced solar heating potentially having a negative feedback, but the simultaneously enhanced solar-UV flux having a positive feedback.
In order to test this hypothesis, UVB data were compared with Earthshine data (a measure of the Earth’s albedo) over the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. Significant negative correlations were obtained, especially in the northern hemisphere Pacific and Atlantic in the summer half of the year
ginckgo (21:35:18)
Why does no one manage to hold in their heads the fact that the circulations in the air are seperate from the circulations in the oceans although influenced by them ?
If ocean circulations are weaker then less solar energy is taken away from the upper layers into deeper layers and ocean surfaces will warm.
Warmer ocean surfaces result in FASTER circulations in the air as the air tries to restore the balance between surfaces and space.
Furthermore those faster air circulations would result in faster circulation of solar energy through the upper layers of the oceans and serve to reduce any oceanic ‘stagnation’.
We really have very little knowledge of those far off times and lazy speculation is not helpful, especially if it is designed to serve an agenda.
ginckgo (21:35:18), thank you for your interesting post, viz:
That is true. And CO2 is also though to have been much lower at other geological times.
But as I said above, it is improbable that we would have had changing forces (increasing solar and decreasing GHG) that would have so nearly and neatly balanced each other for 600 million years. In part, the problem is that one is linear (solar forcing change). The other is logarithmic (CO2 forcing change). What would keep them in balance? It’s one of those “possible but doubtful” things.
One of the citations upstream showed that tropical cumulus don’t form when the sea surface is below 299 K. When the sea is below that temperature, it gets the full force of the sun. In the tropics at noon, this is over a kilowatt per square meter. Our climate system has a lot of power in reserve to warm up the earth when it gets cold. That’s what’s keeping it in balance day in and day out, and thus century in and century out … not changing CO2.
w.
Stephen Wilde (01:25:06), thanks for your thoughts about the ocean, viz:
Moving away from the far off times to the present, the ocean and how it circulates the heat from the downwelling solar and infrared radiation is a fascinating and imperfectly understood subject.
Radiation heats and cools the ocean very unevenly, both temporally and spatially. First, spatially.
Spatially, the tropics receive most of the heat. When water heats it expands. It rises, and spreads out towards the poles. This is the driving force of the overall ocean circulation of the tropical heat to the poles. It is the oceanic counterpart of the atmosphere being heated and rising in the tropics.
The speed of this current varies with the amount of energy driving it (which in turn is regulated by clouds and thunderstorms). Note that the amount of energy transferred is a different thing than the temperature.
Again spatially, light penetrates tens of meters into the ocean. Infrared (greenhouse radiation), on the other hand, is absorbed in the first millimeter. This leads to very different outcomes. And this leads to the second uneven distribution, the temporal distribution of radiation.
During the day, the atmosphere is unstable because it is warmest at the bottom. Hot air rises, and it overturns. At night, the bottom of the atmosphere cools, and overturning stops. The atmosphere is thermally stable at night.
The opposite is true of the ocean. During the day, about 80% of the sunlight is absorbed in the upper ten meters of the ocean, and IR is absorbed right at the surface. At the very surface skin, IR immediately and strongly affects re-radiation and evaporation rates. Sunlight affects those as well, but half of the solar energy is absorbed at depths deeper than half a meter. A quarter of the solar energy is absorbed below five meters. Sunlight heats the bulk of the top of the ocean. It has less immediate effect on outgoing radiation or evaporation.
Now, other things being equal, heat in the ocean doesn’t mix downwards. It rises. So during the day, the ocean is generally thermally stratified and stable, with the warmest water at the top. The top skin gets all the IR plus some of the solar energy, so it is strongly radiating and evaporating. Below it the solar energy is absorbed logarithmically, with deeper layers receiving less energy. This increases the thermal stratification.
At night, on the other hand, the only downwelling radiation is the IR absorbed in the top mm. The body of the ocean is no longer warming. Outgoing IR radiation is greater than incoming (because the earth is warmer than the atmosphere, and thus radiates more). The skin starts to cool. As soon as it becomes cooler than the underlying layer, it will start to sink through that warmer water until it reaches water of its own temperature. This happens in well defined descending columns of cooler water. These are fed by a larger drainage area around the top of each column.
In between the descending columns, the water is slowly rising to the surface. Curiously, this is the mirror image of what happens in the atmosphere during the day. There, the bulk air slowly moves toward the surface in between the columnar thunderstorms with their rapidly rising warm air. In the ocean, the bulk ocean slowly moves toward the surface in between the rapidly sinking columns of cool water.
The system naturally produces the maximum possible radiative cooling and evaporation. Radiative cooling and evaporation are dependent on the temperature of the free surface of the water. What’s happening a centimeter below the surface doesn’t change either of those in the slightest. It’s the skin temperature that counts. And other things being equal, the hottest water in the whole column is always at that top surface.
This leads to a curious situation where the instantaneous energy flow through the ocean surface is not dependent on the bulk temperature of the ocean. It depends only on the skin temperature, which is to say, it is generally the temperature of the warmest water.
Makes for complex calculations, and prevents easy or simple answers …
w.
Stephen Wilde, you’re not distinguishing between climate and weather. Regional ocean surface temperatures certainly influence regional weather (as well as regional climate). But ocean circulation patterns heavily influence global climate. You need to read up on Thermohaline vs Halothermal circulation.
The main driver of today’s global ocean circulation system is the Thermohaline system (TH), not solar irradiance. Basically when sea ice forms at high latitudes it leaves behind near freezing and very saline waters that sink. In the North Atlantic this can generate a volume transport of 15 sverdrup (1 Sv = 1 million cubic meters per second, equivalent to all the water input of the worlds rivers), and reaches 150Sv by the time it joins the deep Circum-Antarctic current.
When no significant polar ice exists, then the dominant regime is Halothermal circulation (HT), which is driven by the evaporation at low latitudes that leaves behind heavy saline waters to sink. This is no mainly driven by solar irradiance, but it is calculated to be 1-2 orders of magnitude weaker than the Thermohaline system. Note that these HT waters are relatively warm and only sink due to their salinity, while TH deep waters are saline and cold; therefore we have much weaker circulation, plus it’s likely that these ‘deep’ waters don’t easily turn over the whole ocean, leading to stratification and stagnation (during the Eocene deep waters are thought to have reached 14 degrees C, compared to the near zero of today).
A lot of the major changes in global climate during the Cainozoic are probably due to continental rearrangement, when old ocean passages closed (Tethys, Panama, Indonesian Gateway almost) while others opened (Drake Passage, Tasman Strait, Denmark Strait and Iceland Faroe Passage), the global climate very abruptly stepped from Greenhouse to IceHouse mode.
So what the air temperatures are in our IceHouse world has been secondary to the ocean system in producing our current global climate. But the big unknown is, what whould happen if humans manage to influence the climate enough to weaken to HT system. Climate systems appear to often switch abruptly, and we don’t know if the current climate system is robust enough to ignore what we’re doing to it.
By saying ignorant stuff like “We really have very little knowledge of those far off times and lazy speculation is not helpful” you’re dismissing all the work of Palaeoclimatology, which includes Palaeontology, Sedimentology, Geochemistry, and a host of other disciplines.
ginckgo (20:09:37), thanks for your interesting points. If I can drag you briefly back to the present, consider this:
From Science News
Original study is subscription, abstract here
Given that our understanding of what the oceanic currents do now is incomplete, our understanding of currents in the past must necessarily be poorer than that of today. As the study shows, the ocean currents are not the simple lines we like to draw on charts. They are complex networks that shift location and speed and direction on scales from minutes to months to millennia.
So you are correct to identify the changes in the continents, particularly opening and closing gaps between islands and continents, as being crucial.
On a shorter timescale, things like the PDO indicate that there is more than one “quasi-stable” pattern in which the oceanic currents can flow.
Regarding the concern you expressed at the end:
The changes that humans have made to the surface of the earth are likely to have warmed it. Chop down the trees and you chop down the clouds. More sun plus less moisture means greatly enhanced surface heating (more heating plus less evaporative cooling).
I’d say that “are we pushing the climate away from a tipping point” is as valid as “are we pushing the climate towards a tipping point”. Since we have no knowledge or definition of what might constitute a tipping point, the odds seem equal. The climate is an infinitely complex chaotic system. We don’t know what switches the PDO from the cool phase to the warm phase and back again every thirty years or so. How do we know what change will have what effect overall?
I return again, however, to the question of relative size. Averaged over the globe, the earth receives almost 500 W/m2 (170 solar plus 320 IR). In the the day to night swing is about a kilowatt/m2 (1000 Watts/m2).
If CO2 was to double tomorrow, it would be 3.7 W/m2. That’s less than 1%. It is a tiny, third order forcing. And in the tropics, because the solar input is so large, CO2 makes even less change in the total forcing. If the earth were to be tossed into a tipping point by less than 1% change in forcing, it would have fallen off its perch centuries ago.
I’ll tell you what I don’t like. Black soot. Falls on ice and melts it. Ever toss cold ashes from a dead fire out on the snow? Melts right down through the snow as the black carbon pick up solar heat, it just keeps going. The gift that keeps on giving. Plus it floats on water, so it stay up at the top absorbing sunlight. Talk about forcings, that’s a strong one. Lots of it gets swept up in the Northern Hemisphere in the Arctic and sub-Arctic regions. That’s worth being concerned about.
But CO2? No, too small to worry about. It’ll get adjusted out by the thunderstorm and cumulus governor system. A 1% adjustment in overall albedo will cancel out a CO2 doubling. The Earth has been here before …
Next, I would take gentle exception to your claim that
Oceanic circulation is driven at both ends of the heat engine. At the hot end, surface waters warm, expand, and flow by gravity towards the poles. At the same time polar waters radiate away their heat into the cold polar sky, cool, sink, and flow towards the equator to complete the circuit. As you imply, either a hot end or a cold end by itself is enough to drive this kind of thermo-circulation. In the case of the earth, however, we have both.
The change in current caused by fresh water being removed and replaced by the freezing and melting of the ice averages out over the year. It intensifies the current when it freezes as you explain, but it slows the same current when it thaws. Overall, I’d expect there to be no significant net effect. Also, most of the year any particular part of the ocean is neither freezing nor thawing. So on any given square metre of ocean, the annual current change will be small.
Finally, the idea that evaporation density driven circulation (HT circulation) will take over as the dominant force seems extremely doubtful. It’s so small. Evaporation in the tropics is on the order of a cm/day. To dilute this effect by one hundred to one, it suffices to mix up the top metre of water. And that top meter is well mixed over most of the tropical ocean every day.
At night, of course, that slightly denser, slightly saltier water joins the radiation cooled surface water. It drops down one of the descending columns of water at night, and mixes with the main upper layer of the ocean. There’s a great temperature and salinity chart here. You can see that the salinity is not penetrating very deep into the Pacific.
You can also see that the cold water is rising at the equator, being heated, and spreading out towards both poles. At the equator, this rising cool water overwhelms the downward flow of the saline water, pushing that towards the poles as well. There, without the uprising water at the equator, it can sink deeper into the ocean and slowly mix away. There is a corresponding cross section of the Atlantic here, scroll down. It shows the same features of rising water at the equator and spreading warmth and salinity at the surface.
So no, I don’t see HT circulation dominating that any time soon …
Thanks for your ideas, they push me to think and explore.
w.
ginckgo (20:09:37), thanks for your interesting points. If I can drag you briefly back to the present, consider this:
From Science News
Original study is subscription, abstract here
Given that our understanding of what the oceanic currents do now is incomplete, our understanding of currents in the past must necessarily be poorer than that of today. As the study shows, the ocean currents are not the simple lines we like to draw on charts. They are complex networks that shift location and speed and direction on scales from minutes to months to millennia.
So you are correct to identify the changes in the continents, particularly opening and closing gaps between islands and continents, as being crucial.
On a shorter timescale, things like the PDO indicate that there is more than one “quasi-stable” pattern in which the oceanic currents can flow.
Regarding the concern you expressed at the end:
The changes that humans have made to the surface of the earth are likely to have warmed it. Chop down the trees and you chop down the clouds. More sun plus less moisture means greatly enhanced surface heating (more heating plus less evaporative cooling).
I’d say that “are we pushing the climate away from a tipping point” is as valid as “are we pushing the climate towards a tipping point”. Since we have no knowledge or definition of what might constitute a tipping point, the odds seem equal. The climate is an infinitely complex chaotic system. We don’t know what switches the PDO from the cool phase to the warm phase and back again every thirty years or so. How do we know what change will have what effect overall?
I return again, however, to the question of relative size. Averaged over the globe, the earth receives almost 500 W/m2 (170 solar plus 320 IR). In the the day to night swing is about a kilowatt/m2 (1000 Watts/m2).
If CO2 was to double tomorrow, it would be 3.7 W/m2. That’s less than 1%. It is a tiny, third order forcing. And in the tropics, because the solar input is so large, CO2 makes even less change in the total forcing. If the earth were to be tossed into a tipping point by less than 1% change in forcing, it would have fallen off its perch centuries ago.
I’ll tell you what I don’t like. Black soot. Falls on ice and melts it. Ever toss cold ashes from a dead fire out on the snow? Melts right down through the snow as the black carbon pick up solar heat, it just keeps going. The gift that keeps on giving. Plus it floats on water, so it stay up at the top absorbing sunlight. Talk about forcings, that’s a strong one. Lots of it gets swept up in the Northern Hemisphere in the Arctic and sub-Arctic regions. That’s worth being concerned about.
But CO2? No, too small to worry about. It’ll get adjusted out by the thunderstorm and cumulus governor system. A 1% adjustment in overall albedo will cancel out a CO2 doubling. The Earth has been here before …
Thanks for your ideas, they push me to think and explore.
w.
ginckgo (20:09:37), thanks for your interesting points. If I can drag you briefly back to the present geological era, consider this:
From Science News
Original study is subscription, abstract here
Given that our understanding of what the oceanic currents do now is obviously incomplete, our understanding of currents in the past must necessarily be poorer than that of today. As the study shows, the ocean currents are not the simple lines we like to draw on charts. They are complex networks that shift location and speed and direction on scales from minutes to months to millennia.
So you are correct to identify the changes in the continents, particularly opening and closing gaps between islands and continents, as being crucial to the setting of the global thermostat. And certainly we know, from drill cores and sediment beds and the like, that a current flowed here 1.5 million years ago, and there 3.7 million years ago, and in a third place 4.6 million years ago. However, determining where the currents flowed a million years ago on anything resembling a global scale when we don’t know where they flow today is a bit of a stretch.
On a shorter timescale, things like the PDO indicate that there is more than one “quasi-stable” pattern in which the oceanic currents can flow. But what flips the PDO from one state to the other? We haven’t a clue.
Regarding the concern you expressed at the end:
The changes that humans have made to the surface of the earth are likely to have warmed it. Chop down the trees and you chop down the clouds. More sun plus less moisture means greatly enhanced surface heating (more heating plus less evaporative cooling).
But I’d say that “are we pushing the climate away from a tipping point” is as valid as “are we pushing the climate towards a tipping point”. Since we have no knowledge or definition of what might constitute a tipping point, the odds seem equal. The climate is an infinitely complex chaotic system. We don’t know what switches the PDO from the cool phase to the warm phase and back again every thirty years or so. How do could we know what oceanic current change will have what effect overall on the globe?
I return again, however, to the question of relative size. Averaged over the globe, the earth receives almost 500 W/m2 (170 solar plus 320 IR). In the tropics, the day to night swing is about a kilowatt/m2 (1000 Watts/m2).
If CO2 were to double tomorrow, according to IPCC figures it would give us a forcing change of about 3.7 W/m2. That’s less than 1% change in downwelling radiation. It is a tiny, third order forcing. And in the tropics, because the solar input is so large, CO2 makes even less change in the total forcing. If the earth were to be tossed into a tipping point by less than 1% change in forcing, it would have fallen off its perch centuries ago.
I’ll tell you what I don’t like. Black soot. Falls on ice and melts it. Ever toss cold ashes from a dead fire out on the snow? Melts right down through the snow as the black carbon pick up solar heat, it just keeps going. The gift that keeps on giving. Plus carbon floats on water, so it stay up at the top absorbing sunlight. Talk about forcings, that’s a strong one. Lots of it gets swept up in the Northern Hemisphere and is deposited on snow and ice in the Arctic and sub-Arctic regions. That’s a forcing worth being concerned about.
But CO2? No, too small to worry about. It’ll get adjusted out by the thunderstorm and cumulus governor system. A 1% adjustment in overall albedo will cancel out a CO2 doubling. The Earth has been here before …
Next, I would take gentle exception to your claim that
Oceanic circulation is driven at both ends of the heat engine. At the hot end, surface waters warm, expand, and flow by gravity towards the poles. At the same time polar waters radiate away their heat into the cold polar sky, cool, sink, and flow towards the equator to complete the circuit. As you imply, either a hot end or a cold end by itself is enough to drive this kind of thermo-circulation. In the case of the earth, however, we have both.
The change in current caused by fresh water being removed and replaced by the freezing and melting of the ice averages out over the year. It intensifies the current when it freezes as you explain. On the other hand, it slows the same current when it thaws. Overall, I’d expect there to be no significant net effect. Also, most of the year any particular part of the ocean is neither freezing nor thawing. So on any given square metre of ocean, the annual current change from freezing/thawing will be small.
Finally, the idea that evaporation density driven circulation (HT circulation) will take over as the dominant force seems extremely doubtful. It’s so small. Evaporation in the tropics is on the order of a cm/day. To dilute this effect by one hundred to one, it suffices to mix up the top metre of water. And that top meter is well mixed over most of the tropical ocean every day.
At night, of course, that slightly denser, slightly saltier water joins the radiation cooled surface water. It drops down one of the descending columns of water at night, and mixes with the main upper layer of the ocean. There’s a great temperature and salinity chart here. You can see that the salinity is not penetrating very deep into the Pacific.
You can also see that the cold water is rising at the equator, being heated, and spreading out towards both poles. At the equator, this rising cool water overwhelms the downward flow of the saline water, pushing that towards the poles as well. There, without the uprising water at the equator, it can sink deeper into the ocean and slowly mix away. There is a corresponding cross section of the Atlantic here, scroll down. It shows the same features of rising water at the equator and spreading warmth and salinity at the surface.
So no, I don’t see HT circulation dominating that any time soon …
Thanks for your ideas, they push me to think and explore.
w.
Well, I posted it once and it didn’t appear, so I cut it in half and tried again. Still didn’t appear.
Went to bed, and when I got up, both were there … go figure.
w.
REPLY: Posts with a lot of words + URLs tend to get put in the spam filter, we regularly rescue them – Anthony
Thanks, Anthony. I thought that might be the case that I had two many words etc, so I cut it in half and tried reposting …
Next time, if it disappears I’ll just wait.
Thanks for providing the venue for what has turned out to be a most interesting discussion.
w.
Willis,
I don’t have access to the actual Nature article, so I’ll address the popular press summary (ugh!): It appears that the floats they used to measure the Deep Western Boundary Current (DWBC) only reached a maximum depth of 1500m. At that shallow depth I would expect there to still be some influence by the Gulf Stream. Considering that the ocean basins are generally deeper than 2000m, and on average 3-4000m, I would expect the main flow of the DWBC to occur at those depths.
I agree, ocean currents are anything but simple lines (we always try to spot the circulation maps that have the major current arrow going right across New Zealand). The details don’t change the fact that there is a major ocean circulation system the governs the movement of water in the oceans, and along with it energy.
Things like the PDO only seem to temporarily alter some aspects the large scale flow of the ‘conveyor belt’, such as dragging up more deep water along the west coast of South America than normal. This does not currently change the actual circulation system in any major way. What is not know is if significant climatic changes could flip the whole circulation pattern from one state to another.
It’s not an either/or of “pushing towards a tipping point” vs “pushing away from a tipping point”. There are likely to be many tipping points, and pushing away from one may push towards another at the same time. Yes, if forced to chose, I’d probably rather live in a Greenhouse world than in a Snowball world, but in reality, I prefer a nice interglacial.
And if you don’t like the idea that Thermohaline circulation is largely driven by polar ice, you’re a lone voice. But by the way you describe the process, I take it you haven’t actually understood it. Deep water creation at the poles is huge (check the figures I stated). Thawing in summer doesn’t warm the waters (physics of phase transitions) and enough ice remains (yet) to maintain the system. There is certainly not “no net effect”.
Warming waters at low latitudes create a weak enough flow to be overwhelmed by other factors such as winds and upwelling of deep sea currents. As you point out in the salinity chart you link to, in the current state the tropics are unable to affect the current as a driver because of the strong and continuous flow of very cold deep waters. However, should these deep waters weaken, and at some point even warm up, then it’s possible that the evaporative driver could become significant. But as I said, Halothermal circulation is several orders of magnitude weaker than Thermohaline – you could probably kiss the fishing industry goodbye.
Gingko, there is certainly thermal circulation from pole to equator. My contention was that:
1. During part of the year, water is freezing. This leaves behind a heavier liquid, which tends to sink. This helps the thermally driven current that moves towards the equator.
2. During another part of the year, ice is thawing. This leaves behind a lighter liquid, which tends to float. This hinders the thermally driven current that moves towards the equator.
w.
Gingko, a couple of further thoughts:
Since the PDO lasts on the order of thirty years or so, I’m not sure what you are calling “temporarily”. Also, we don’t yet understand what drives the PDO, or what actually changes during the PDO. So I would doubt very much that we can state that the PDO “does not currently change the actual circulation system in any major way”. Seems like a bridge too far.
My point was simple. We don’t know what a tipping point looks like. We can’t identify them in past climates, other than to note that some climate changes occur fairly quickly … but that tells us simply that some particular threshold was exceeded. It does not, however, tell us anything about what that tipping point was.
Myself, I find the discussion of “tipping points” generally to be a lot of handwaving. Yes, they might exist … but since we don’t have a clue what they look like even if we were to see one, what good does the entire “tipping points” discussion do? People rave on about how we’re going towards some “tipping point”, but when push comes to shove, they can’t say what a tipping point might look like if it hit them in the face.
w.
I realized today that there is another piece of evidence that bears on this question. This is the relationship between CO2 and temperature as shown in the Vostok ice cores. The Vostok CO2 data is here, and the Vostok temperature data is here.
An analysis of the Vostok data gives the following relationship:
T0 – T1 = 14 log(C0/C1,2), r^2 = 0.66
where T0-T1 is the temperature change (°C), and C0/C1 is the ratio of the starting and ending CO2 levels (ppmv).
This has two consequences. First, it indicates that the change in temperature in the 20th century is not the cause of the current rise in CO2. If the Vostok data is correct, a 0.6°C temperature rise would only raise CO2 by about 10 ppmv.
Of more import to the present discussion is that if CO2 is driving temperature, according to the Vostok cores a change in CO2 from 280 ppmv to 380 ppmv should have resulted in a 6°C temperature rise.
Obviously this hasn’t happened … and the question is, why not? I believe that my thermostat hypothesis explains why not, although certainly there may be other explanations.
Mr Eschenbach — Wow!
As an engineer whose Dad was a meteorologist i applaud your essay.
I have been asking “Where’s the control system theory in all this?” It’s an equilibrium seeking system subject to the math of feedback controls.
My opinion is the climate models are just in the appetizer stage, the main course straight thinking on this matter is still out there in the kitchen .
You are more on track than the rest i’ve seen.
And your points about water vapor are right on target.
Please see my tweak of the ocean heat guys a couple years ago,
comment #96 on this ocean heat content blog,
http://www.realclimate.org/index.php/archives/2006/08/ocean-heat-content-latest-numbers/comment-page-2/#comments
I believe the regulating mechanism you seek lies in the slope of the saturation pressure curve for water.
Given that our atmosphere has a particular weight hence a particular pressure, there exists a temperature around which the vapor pressure of water will affect the thermodynamics of air with maximum effect. That is, it will make density of air change more than it would from temperature alone, and even more significantly will optimally affect its specific heat as a working fluid in your heat engine. Mother nature loves a balance!
Were i forty years younger i’d try to calculate it for you.
I spent a lifetime fixing feedback control based regulating systems and am fascinated by the math involved. See any text on Modern Control Systems.
That math was discovered by Descartes but set aside as an interesting curiosity. Well, that is until WW2 when the German scientists found it’d make their rockets work. The German texts were brought back as a war prize along with Dr Von Braun who explained them to our guys.
But i digress.
Anyhow – if i can find my steam tables and Dad’s old “Climate and Man” textbook i might try to horse out some simple approximations …
meantime, i applaud you as the first climate guy to put Descarte before the hors d’ouvres.
Sincerely, old jim hardy