The world’s most important climate talks were pulled back from the brink of collapse after poorer countries reluctantly accepted a finance package of “at least” $300 billion a year from wealthy nations after bitter negotiations.
Fears about stretched budgets around the world and the election of Donald Trump as US president, who has described climate change as a “hoax,” drove the developing countries into acceptance of the slightly improved package after Sunday 2: 30 am local time in Baku.
The UN COP29 climate summit almost collapsed twice throughout Saturday evening and into the early hours of Sunday morning, as vulnerable nations walked out of negotiations and India objected stridently.
As the gavel came down, India’s lead negotiator, Neelesh Shah, leapt to his feet to ask to take the floor, and when he was ignored made a furious timeout gesture above his head and led his team on to the stage in protest.
Speaking from the floor, Indian delegation member Chandni Raina said the country was “extremely disappointed” by the abrupt passage of the agreement, adding: “This was stage-managed.”
“It is a paltry sum,” she said. “I am sorry to say that we cannot accept it. We seek a much higher ambition from developed countries.” The agreement was “nothing more than an optical illusion,” she added.
The broadside was followed by objections from Bolivia, Chile, and Nigeria, who were told by COP29 President Mukhtar Babayev that their statements were noted. Smaller nations, such as Malawi, Fiji, and the Maldives, joined in the grievance.
Simon Stiell, head of the UN climate change arm, said the new goal was an “insurance policy for humanity, amid worsening climate impacts hitting every country” but added that it was “no time for victory laps.”
European Union climate commissioner Wopke Hoekstra tried to assure disappointed smaller nations, saying he was “confident we will reach the $1.3 trillion” economists say developing countries need to shift to green energy and cope with climate change.
Diesel equipment will be replaced with hydrogen- or electric-power gear.
Raquel Garcia has been fighting for years to clean up the air in her neighborhood southwest of downtown Detroit.
Living a little over a mile from the Ambassador Bridge, which thousands of freight trucks cross every day en route to the Port of Detroit, Garcia said she and her neighbors are frequently cleaning soot off their homes.
“You can literally write your name in it,” she said. “My house is completely covered.”
Her neighborhood is part of Wayne County, which is home to heavy industry, including steel plants and major car manufacturers, and suffers from some of the worst air quality in Michigan. In its 2024 State of the Air report, the American Lung Association named Wayne County one of the “worst places to live” in terms of annual exposure to fine particulate matter pollution, or PM2.5.
But Detroit, and several other Midwest cities with major shipping ports, could soon see their air quality improve as port authorities receive hundreds of millions of dollars to replace diesel equipment with cleaner technologies like solar power and electric vehicles.
Last week, the Biden administration announced $3 billion in new grants from the US Environmental Protection Agency’s Clean Ports program, which aims to slash carbon emissions and reduce air pollution at US shipping ports. More than $200 million of that funding will go to four Midwestern states that host ports along the Great Lakes: Michigan, Illinois, Ohio, and Indiana.
The money, which comes from the Inflation Reduction Act, will not only be used to replace diesel-powered equipment and vehicles, but also to install clean energy systems and charging stations, take inventory of annual port emissions, and set plans for reducing them. It will also fund a feasibility study for establishing a green hydrogen fuel hub along the Great Lakes.
The EPA estimates that those changes will, nationwide, reduce carbon pollution in the first 10 years by more than 3 million metric tons, roughly the equivalent of taking 600,000 gasoline-powered cars off the road. The agency also projects reduced emissions of nitrous oxide and PM2.5—both of which can cause serious, long-term health complications—by about 10,000 metric tons and about 180 metric tons, respectively, during that same time period.
“Our nation’s ports are critical to creating opportunity here in America, offering good-paying jobs, moving goods, and powering our economy,” EPA Administrator Michael Regan said in the agency’s press release announcing the funds. “Delivering cleaner technologies and resources to US ports will slash harmful air and climate pollution while protecting people who work in and live nearby ports communities.”
Garcia, who runs the community advocacy nonprofit Southwest Detroit Environmental Vision, said she’s “really excited” to see the Port of Detroit getting those funds, even though it’s just a small part of what’s needed to clean up the city’s air pollution.
“We care about the air,” she said. “There’s a lot of kids in the neighborhood where I live.”
Jumpstarting the transition to cleaner technology
Nationwide, port authorities in 27 states and territories tapped the Clean Ports funding, which they’ll use to buy more than 1,500 units of cargo-handling equipment, such as forklifts and cranes, 1,000 heavy-duty trucks, 10 locomotives, and 20 seafaring vessels, all of which will be powered by electricity or green hydrogen, which doesn’t emit CO2 when burned.
In the Midwest, the Illinois Environmental Protection Agency and the Cleveland-Cuyahoga County Port Authority in Ohio were awarded about $95 million each from the program, the Detroit-Wayne County Port Authority in Michigan was awarded $25 million, and the Ports of Indiana will receive $500,000.
Mark Schrupp, executive director of the Detroit-Wayne County Port Authority, said the funding for his agency will be used to help port operators at three terminals purchase new electric forklifts, cranes, and boat motors, among other zero-emission equipment. The money will also pay for a new solar array that will reduce energy consumption for port facilities, as well as 11 new electric vehicle charging stations.
“This money is helping those [port] businesses make the investment in this clean technology, which otherwise is sometimes five or six times the cost of a diesel-powered equipment,” he said, noting that the costs of clean technologies are expected to fall significantly in the coming years as manufacturers scale up production. “It also exposes them to the potential savings over time—full maintenance costs and other things that come from having the dirtier technology in place.”
Schrupp said that the new equipment will slash the Detroit-Wayne County Port Authority’s overall carbon emissions by more than 8,600 metric tons every year, roughly a 30 percent reduction.
Carly Beck, senior manager of planning, environment and information systems for the Cleveland-Cuyahoga County Port Authority, said its new equipment will reduce the Port of Cleveland’s annual carbon emissions by roughly 1,000 metric tons, or about 40 percent of the emissions tied to the port’s operations. The funding will also pay for two electric tug boats and the installation of solar panels and battery storage on the port’s largest warehouse, she added.
In 2022, Beck said, the Port of Cleveland took an emissions inventory, which found that cargo-handling equipment, building energy use, and idling ships were the port’s biggest sources of carbon emissions. Docked ships would run diesel generators for power as they unloaded, she said, but with the new infrastructure, the cargo-handling equipment and idling ships can draw power from a 2-megawatt solar power system with battery storage.
“We’re essentially creating a microgrid at the port,” she said.
Improving the air for disadvantaged communities
The Clean Ports funding will also be a boon for people like Garcia, who live near a US shipping port.
Shipping ports are notorious for their diesel pollution, which research has shown disproportionately affects poor communities of color. And most, if not all, of the census tracts surrounding the Midwest ports are deemed “disadvantaged communities” by the federal government. The EPA uses a number of factors, including income level and exposure to environmental harms, to determine whether a community is “disadvantaged.”
About 10,000 trucks pass through the Port of Detroit every day, Schrupp said, which helps to explain why residents of Southwest Detroit and the neighboring cities of Ecorse and River Rouge, which sit adjacent to Detroit ports, breathe the state’s dirtiest air.
“We have about 50,000 residents within a few miles of the port, so those communities will definitely benefit,” he said. “This is a very industrialized area.”
Burning diesel or any other fossil fuel produces nitrous oxide or PM2.5, and research has shown that prolonged exposure to high levels of those pollutants can lead to serious health complications, including lung disease and premature death. The Detroit-Wayne County Port Authority estimates that the new port equipment will cut nearly 9 metric tons of PM2.5 emissions and about 120 metric tons of nitrous oxide emissions each year.
Garcia said she’s also excited that some of the Detroit grants will be used to establish workforce training programs, which will show people how to use the new technologies and showcase career opportunities at the ports. Her area is gentrifying quickly, Garcia said, so it’s heartening to see the city and port authority taking steps to provide local employment opportunities.
Beck said that the Port of Cleveland is also surrounded by a lot of heavy industry and that the census tracts directly adjacent to the port are all deemed “disadvantaged” by federal standards.
“We’re trying to be good neighbors and play our part,” she said, “to make it a more pleasant environment.”
Kristoffer Tigue is a staff writer for Inside Climate News, covering climate issues in the Midwest. He previously wrote the twice-weekly newsletter Today’s Climate and helped lead ICN’s national coverage on environmental justice. His work has been published in Reuters, Scientific American, Mother Jones, HuffPost, and many more. Tigue holds a master’s degree in journalism from the Missouri School of Journalism.
Holistic climate justice: The guidelines recognize that geoengineering won’t affect just those people currently residing on Earth, but on future generations as well. Some methods, like stratospheric aerosols, don’t eliminate the risks caused by warming, but shift them onto future generations, who will face sudden and potentially dramatic warming if the geoengineering is ever stopped. Others may cause regional differences in either benefits or warming, shifting consequences to different populations.
Special attention should be paid to those who have historically been on the wrong side of environmental problems in the past. And harms to nature need to be considered as well.
Inclusive public participation: The research shouldn’t be approached as simply a scientific process; instead, any affected communities should be included in the process, and informed consent should be obtained from them. There should be ongoing public engagement with those communities and adapt to their cultural values.
Transparency: The public needs to be aware of who’s funding any geoengineering research and ensure that whoever’s providing the money doesn’t influence decisions regarding the design of the research. Those decisions, and the considerations behind them, should also be made clear to the public.
Informed governance: Any experiments have to conform to laws ranging from local to international. Any research programs should be approved by an independent body before any work starts. All the parties involved—and this could include the funders, the institutions, and outside contractors—should be held accountable to governments, public institutions, and those who will potentially be impacted by the work.
If you think this will make pursuing this research considerably more complicated, you are absolutely correct. But again, even tests of these approaches could have serious environmental consequences. And many of these things represent best practices for any research with potential public consequences; the fact that they haven’t always been pursued is not an excuse to continue to avoid doing them.
One way to look at how problematic this is would be to think in terms of a carbon budget. We can estimate how much carbon can be put into the atmosphere before warming reaches 1.5° C. Subtract the emissions we’ve already added, and you get the remaining budget. At this point, the remaining budget for 1.5° C is only 200 Gigatonnes, which means another four years like 2023 will leave us well beyond our budget. For the 2° C budget, we’ve got less than 20 years like 2023 before we go past.
An alternate way to look at the challenge is to consider the emissions reductions that would get us on track. UNEP uses 2019 emissions as a baseline (about 52 Gigatonnes) and determined that, in 2030, we’d need to have emissions cut by 28 percent to get onto the 2° C target, and by 42 percent to be on track for the 1.5° C target.
The NDCs are nowhere close to that, with even the conditional pledges being sufficient to only cut emissions by 10 percent. Ideally, that should be prompting participating nations to be rapidly updating their NDCs to get them better aligned with our stated goals. And, while 90 percent have done so since the signing of the Paris Agreement, only a single country has made updated pledges over the past year.
Countries are also failing to keep their national policies in line with their NDCs. The UNEP report estimates that current policies allow the world collectively to emit two Gigatonnes more than their pledges would see being released.
A limited number of countries are responsible for the huge gap between where we need to go and what we’re actually doing. Nearly two-thirds of 2023’s emissions come from just six countries: China, the US, India, the EU, Russia, and Brazil. By contrast, the 55 nations of the African Union are only producing about 6 percent of the global emissions. Obviously, this means that any actions taken by these six entities will have a disproportionate effect on future emissions. The good news is that at least two of those, the EU and US, saw emissions drop over the year prior (by 7.5 percent in the EU, and 1.4 percent in the US), while Brazil remained largely unchanged.
Colonized artificial reef structures could absorb the power of storms.
Credit: Kemter/Getty Images
On October 10, 2018, Tyndall Air Force Base on the Gulf of Mexico—a pillar of American air superiority—found itself under aerial attack. Hurricane Michael, first spotted as a Category 2 storm off the Florida coast, unexpectedly hulked up to a Category 5. Sustained winds of 155 miles per hour whipped into the base, flinging power poles, flipping F-22s, and totaling more than 200 buildings. The sole saving grace: Despite sitting on a peninsula, Tyndall avoided flood damage. Michael’s 9- to 14-foot storm surge swamped other parts of Florida. Tyndall’s main defense was luck.
That $5 billion disaster at Tyndall was just one of a mounting number of extreme-weather events that convinced the US Department of Defense that it needed new ideas to protect the 1,700 coastal bases it’s responsible for globally. As hurricanes Helene and Milton have just shown, beachfront residents face compounding threats from climate change, and the Pentagon is no exception. Rising oceans are chewing away the shore. Stronger storms are more capable of flooding land.
In response, Tyndall will later this month test a new way to protect shorelines from intensified waves and storm surges: a prototype artificial reef, designed by a team led by Rutgers University scientists. The 50-meter-wide array, made up of three chevron-shaped structures each weighing about 46,000 pounds, can take 70 percent of the oomph out of waves, according to tests. But this isn’t your grandaddy’s seawall. It’s specifically designed to be colonized by oysters, some of nature’s most effective wave-killers.
If researchers can optimize these creatures to work in tandem with new artificial structures placed at sea, they believe the resulting barriers can take 90 percent of the energy out of waves. David Bushek, who directs the Haskin Shellfish Research Laboratory at Rutgers, swears he’s not hoping for a megastorm to come and show what his team’s unit is made of. But he’s not not hoping for one. “Models are always imperfect. They’re always a replica of something,” he says. “They’re not the real thing.”
Playing defense Reefense
The project is one of three being developed under a $67.6 million program launched by the US government’s Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or Darpa. Cheekily called Reefense, the initiative is the Pentagon’s effort to test if “hybrid” reefs, combining manmade structures with oysters or corals, can perform as well as a good ol’ seawall. Darpa chose three research teams, all led by US universities, in 2022. After two years of intensive research and development, their prototypes are starting to go into the water, with Rutgers’ first up.
Today, the Pentagon protects its coastal assets much as civilians do: by hardening them. Common approaches involve armoring the shore with retaining walls or arranging heavy objects, like rocks or concrete blocks, in long rows. But hardscape structures come with tradeoffs. They deflect rather than absorb wave energy, so protecting one’s own shoreline means exposing someone else’s. They’re also static: As sea levels rise and storms get stronger, it’s getting easier for water to surmount these structures. This wears them down faster and demands constant, expensive repairs.
In recent decades, a new idea has emerged: using nature as infrastructure. Restoring coastal habitats like marshes and mangroves, it turns out, helps hold off waves and storms. “Instead of armoring, you’re using nature’s natural capacity to absorb wave energy,” says Donna Marie Bilkovic, a professor at the Virginia Institute for Marine Science. Darpa is particularly interested in two creatures whose numbers have been decimated by humans but which are terrific wave-breakers when allowed to thrive: oysters and corals.
Oysters are effective wave-killers because of how they grow. The bivalves pile onto each other in large, sturdy mounds. The resulting structure, unlike a smooth seawall, is replete with nooks, crannies, and convolutions. When a wave strikes, its energy gets diffused into these gaps, and further spent on the jagged, complex surfaces of the oysters. Also unlike a seawall, an oyster wall can grow. Oysters have been shown to be capable of building vertically at a rate that matches sea-level rise—which suggests they’ll retain some protective value against higher tides and stronger storms.
Today hundreds of human-tended oyster reefs, particularly on America’s Atlantic coast, use these principles to protect the shore. They take diverse approaches; some look much like natural reefs, while others have an artificial component. Some cultivate oysters for food, with coastal protection a nice co-benefit; others are built specifically to preserve shorelines. What’s missing amid all this experimentation, says Bilkovic, is systematic performance data—the kind that could validate which approaches are most effective and cost-effective. “Right now the innovation is outpacing the science,” she says. “We need to have some type of systematic monitoring of projects, so we can better understand where the techniques work the best. There just isn’t funding, frankly.”
Hybrid deployments
Rather than wait for the data needed to engineer the perfect reef, Darpa wants to rapidly innovate them through a burst of R&D. Reefense has given awardees five years to deploy hybrid reefs that take up to 90 percent of the energy out of waves, without costing significantly more than traditional solutions. The manmade component should block waves immediately. But it should be quickly enhanced by organisms that build, in months or years, a living structure that would take nature decades.
The Rutgers team has built its prototype out of 788 interlocked concrete modules, each 2 feet wide and ranging in height from 1 to 2 feet tall. They have a scalloped appearance, with shelves jutting in all directions. Internally, all these shelves are connected by holes.
A Darpa-funded team will install sea barriers, made of hundreds of concrete modules, near a Florida military base. The scalloped shape should not only dissipate wave energy but invite oysters to build their own structures.
What this means is that when a wave strikes this structure, it smashes into the internal geometry, swirls around, and exits with less energy. This effect alone weakens the wave by 70 percent, according to the US Army Corps of Engineers, which tested a scale model in a wave simulator in Mississippi. But the effect should only improve as oysters colonize the structure. Bushek and his team have tried to design the shelves with the right hardness, texture, and shading to entice them.
But the reef’s value would be diminished if, say, disease were to wipe the mollusks out. This is why Darpa has tasked Rutgers with also engineering oysters resistant to dermo, a protozoan that’s dogged Atlantic oysters for decades. Darpa prohibited them using genetic-modification techniques. But thanks to recent advances in genomics, the Rutgers team can rapidly identify individual oysters with disease-resistant traits. It exposes these oysters to dermo in a lab, and crossbreeds the survivors, producing hardier mollusks. Traditionally it takes about three years to breed a generation of oysters for better disease resistance; Bushek says his team has done it in one.
The tropics are a different story
Oysters may suit the DoD’s needs in temperate waters, but for bases in tropical climates, it’s coral that builds the best seawalls. Hawaii, for instance, enjoys the protection of “fringing” coral reefs that extend offshore for hundreds of yards in a gentle slope along the seabed. The colossal, complex, and porous character of this surface exhausts wave energy over long distances, says Ben Jones, an oceanographer for the Applied Research Laboratory at the University of Hawaii—and head of the university’s Reefense project. He said it’s not unusual to see ocean swells of 6 to 8 feet way offshore, while the water at the seashore laps gently.
A Marine base in Hawaii will test out a new approach to coastal protection inspired by local coral reefs: A forward barrier will take the first blows of the waves, and a scattering of pyramids will further weaken waves before they get to shore.
Inspired by this effect, Jones and a team of researchers are designing an array that they’ll deploy near a US Marine Corps base in Oahu whose shoreline is rapidly receding. While the final design isn’t set yet, the broad strokes are: It will feature two 50-meter-wide barriers laid in rows, backed by 20 pyramid-like obstacles. All of these are hollow, thin-walled structures with sloping profiles and lots of big holes. Waves that crash into them will lose energy by crawling up the sides, but two design aspects of the structure—the width of the holes and the thinness of the walls—will generate turbulence in the water, causing it to spin off more energy as heat.
The manmade structures in Hawaii will be studded with concrete domes meant to encourage coral colonization. Though at grave risk from global warming, coral reefs are thought to provide coastal-protection benefits worth billions of dollars.
In the team’s full vision, the units are bolstered by about a thousand small coral colonies. Jones’ group plans to cover the structures with concrete modules that are about 20 inches in diameter. These have grooves and crevices that offer perfect shelters for coral larvae. The team will initially implant them with lab-bred coral. But they’re also experimenting with enticements, like light and sound, that help attract coral larvae from the wild—the better to build a wall that nature, not the Pentagon, will tend.
A third Reefense team, led by scientists at the University of Miami, takes its inspiration from a different sort of coral. Its design has a three-tiered structure. The foundation is made of long, hexagonal logs punctured with large holes; atop it is a dense layer with smaller holes—“imagine a sponge made of concrete,” says Andrew Baker, director of the university’s Coral Reef Futures Lab and the Reefense team lead.
The team thinks these artificial components will soak up plenty of wave energy—but it’s a crest of elkhorn coral at the top that will finish the job. Native to Florida, the Bahamas, and the Caribbean, elkhorn like to build dense reefs in shallow-water areas with high-intensity waves. They don’t mind getting whacked by water because it helps them harvest food; this whacking keeps wave energy from getting to shore.
Disease has ravaged Florida’s elkhorn populations in recent decades, and now ocean heat waves are dealing further damage. But their critical condition has also motivated policymakers to pursue options to save this iconic state species—including Baker’s, which is to develop an elkhorn more rugged against disease, higher temperatures, and nastier waves. Under Reefense, Baker says, his lab has developed elkhorn with 1.5° to 2° Celsius more heat tolerance than their ancestors. They also claim to have boosted the heat thresholds of symbiotic algae—an existentially important occupant of any healthy reef—and cross-bred local elkhorn with those from Honduras, where reefs have mysteriously withstood scorching waters.
An unexpected permitting issue, though, will force the Miami team to exit Reefense in 2025, without building the test unit it hoped to deploy near a Florida naval base. The federal permitting authority wanted a pot of money set aside to uninstall the structure if needed; Darpa felt it couldn’t do that in a timely way, according to Baker. (Darpa told WIRED every Reefense project has unique permitting challenges, so the Miami team’s fate doesn’t necessarily speak to anything broader. Representatives for the other two Reefense projects said Baker’s issue hasn’t come up for them.)
Though his team’s work with Reefense is coming to a premature end, Baker says, he’s confident their innovations will get deployed elsewhere. He’s been working with Key Biscayne, an island village near Miami whose shorelines have been chewed up by storms. Roland Samimy, the village’s chief resilience and sustainability officer, says they spend millions of dollars every few years importing sand for their rapidly receding beaches. He’s eager to see if a hybrid structure, like the University of Miami design, could offer protection at far lower cost. “People are realizing their manmade structures aren’t as resilient as nature is,” he says.
Not just Darpa
By no means is Darpa the only one experimenting in these areas. Around the world, there are efforts tackling various pieces of the puzzle, like breeding coral for greater heat resistance, or combining coral and oysters with artificial reefs, or designing low-carbon concrete that makes building these structures less environmentally damaging. Bilkovic, of the Virginia Institute for Marine Science, says Reefense will be a success if it demonstrates better ways of doing things than the prevailing methods—and has the data to back this up. “I’m looking forward to seeing what their findings are,” she says. “They’re systematically assessing the effectiveness of the project. Those lessons learned can be translated to other areas, and if the techniques are effective and work well, they can easily be translated to other regions.”
As for Darpa, though the Reefense prototypes are just starting to go in the water, the work is just beginning. All of these first-generation units will be scrutinized—both by the research teams and independent government auditors—to see whether their real-world performance matches what was in the models. Reefense is scheduled to conclude with a final report to the DoD in 2027. It won’t have a “winner” per se; as the Pentagon has bases around the world, it’s likely these three projects will all produce learnings that are relevant elsewhere.
Although their client has the largest military budget in the world, the three Reefense teams have been asked to keep an eye on the economics. Darpa has asked that project costs “not greatly exceed” those of conventional solutions, and tasked government monitors with checking the teams’ math. Catherine Campbell, Reefense’s program manager at Darpa, says affordability doesn’t just make it more likely the Pentagon will employ the technology—but that civilians can, too.
“This isn’t something bespoke for the military… we need to be in line with those kinds of cost metrics [in the civilian sector],” Campbell said in an email. “And that gives it potential for commercialization.”
This story originally appeared on wired.com.
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Using this simulated data set, called IRIS, the researchers selected for those storms that made landfall along a track similar to that of Milton. Using these, they show that the warming climate has boosted the frequency of storms of Milton’s intensity by 40 percent. Correspondingly, the maximum wind speeds of similar storms have been boosted by about 10 percent. In Milton’s case, that means that, in the absence of climate change, it was likely to have made landfall as a Category 2 storm, rather than the Category 3 it actually was.
Rainfall
The lack of full meteorological data caused a problem when it came to analyzing Milton’s rainfall. The researchers ended up having to analyze rainfall more generally. They took four data sets that do track rainfall across these regions and tracked the link between extreme rainfall and the warming climate to estimate how much more often extreme events occur in a world that is now 1.3° C warmer than it was in pre-industrial times.
They focus on instances of extreme one-day rainfall within the June to November period, looking specifically at 1-in-10-year and 1-in-100-year events. Both of these produced similar results, suggesting that heavy one-day rainfalls are about twice as likely in today’s climates, and the most extreme of these are between 20 and 30 percent more intense.
These results came from three of the four data sets used, which produced largely similar results. The fourth dataset they used suggested a far stronger effect of climate change, but since it wasn’t consistent with the rest, these results weren’t used.
As with the Helene analysis, it’s worth noting that this work represents a specific snapshot in time along a long-term warming trajectory. In other words, it’s looking at the impact of 1.3° C of warming at a time when our emissions are nearly at the point where they commit us to at least 1.5° C of warming. And that will tilt the scales further in favor of extreme weather events like this.
The researchers identified two distinct events associated with Helene’s landfall. The first was its actual landfall along the Florida coast. The second was the intense rainfall on the North Carolina/Tennessee border. This rainfall came against a backdrop of previous heavy rain caused by a stalled cold front meeting moisture brought north by the fringes of the hurricane. These two regions were examined separately.
A changed climate
In these two regions, the influence of climate change is estimated to have caused a 10 percent increase in the intensity of the rainfall. That may not seem like much, but it adds up. Over both a two- and three-day window centered on the point of maximal rainfall, climate change is estimated to have increased rainfall along the Florida Coast by 40 percent. For the southern Appalachians, the boost in rainfall is estimated to have been 70 percent.
The probability of storms with the wind intensity of Helene hitting land near where it did is about a once-in-130-year event in the IRIS dataset. Climate change has altered that so it’s now expected to return about once every 50 years. The high sea surface temperatures that helped fuel Helene are estimated to have been made as much as 500 times more likely by our changed climate.
Overall, the researchers estimate that rain events like Helene’s landfall should now be expected about once every seven years, although the uncertainty is large (running from three to 25 years). For the Appalachian region, where rainfall events this severe don’t appear in our records, they are likely to now be a once-in-every-70-years event thanks to climate warming (with an uncertainty of between 20 and 3,000 years).
“Together, these findings show that climate change is enhancing conditions conducive to the most powerful hurricanes like Helene, with more intense rainfall totals and wind speeds,” the researchers behind the work conclude.
Plant growth is accelerating on the Antarctic Peninsula and nearby islands.
Moss and rocks cover the ground on Robert Island in Antarctica. Photographer: Isadora Romero/Bloomberg Credit: Bloomberg via Getty
Moss and rocks cover the ground on Robert Island in Antarctica. Photographer: Isadora Romero/Bloomberg Credit: Bloomberg via Getty
When satellites first started peering down on the craggy, glaciated Antarctic Peninsula about 40 years ago, they saw only a few tiny patches of vegetation covering a total of about 8,000 square feet—less than a football field.
But since then, the Antarctic Peninsula has warmed rapidly, and a new study shows that mosses, along with some lichen, liverworts and associated algae, have colonized more than 4.6 square miles, an area nearly four times the size of New York’s Central Park.
The findings, published Friday in Nature Geoscience, based on a meticulous analysis of Landsat images from 1986 to 2021, show that the greening trend is distinct from natural variability and that it has accelerated by 30 percent since 2016, fast enough to cover nearly 75 football fields per year.
Greening at the opposite end of the planet, in the Arctic, has been widely studied and reported, said co-author Thomas Roland, a paleoecologist with the University of Exeter who collects and analyzes mud samples to study environmental and ecological change. “But the idea,” he said, “that any part of Antarctica could, in any way, be green is something that still really jars a lot of people.”
Credit: Inside Climate News
Credit: Inside Climate News
As the planet heats up, “even the coldest regions on Earth that we expect and understand to be white and black with snow, ice, and rock are starting to become greener as the planet responds to climate change,” he said.
The tenfold increase in vegetation cover since 1986 “is not huge in the global scheme of things,” Roland added, but the accelerating rate of change and the potential ecological effects are significant. “That’s the real story here,” he said. “The landscape is going to be altered partially because the existing vegetation is expanding, but it could also be altered in the future with new vegetation coming in.”
In the Arctic, vegetation is expanding on a scale that affects the albedo, or the overall reflectivity of the region, which determines the proportion of the sun’s heat energy that is absorbed by the Earth’s surface as opposed to being bounced away from the planet. But the spread of greenery has not yet changed the albedo of Antarctica on a meaningful scale because the vegetated areas are still too small to have a regional impact, said co-author Olly Bartlett, a University of Hertfordshire researcher who specializes in using satellite data to map environmental change.
“The real significance is about the ecological shift on the exposed land, the land that’s ice-free, creating an area suitable for more advanced plant life or invasive species to get a foothold,” he said.
Bartlett said Google Earth Engine enabled the scientists to process a massive amount of data from the Landsat images to meet a high standard of verification of plant growth. As a result, he added, the changes they reported may actually be conservative.
“It’s becoming easier for life to live there,” he said. “These rates of change we’re seeing made us think that perhaps we’ve captured the start of a more dramatic transformation.”
In the areas they studied, changes to the albedo could have a small local effect, Roland said, as more land free of reflective ice “can feed into a positive feedback loop that creates conditions that are more favorable for vegetation expansion as well.”
Antarctic forests at similar CO2 levels
Other research, including fossil studies, suggests that beech trees grew on Antarctica as recently as 2.5 million years ago, when carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere were similar to today, another indicator of how unchecked greenhouse gas emissions can rapidly warm Earth’s climate.
Currently, there are only two species of flowering plants native to the Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctic hair grass, and Antarctic pearlwort. “But with a few new grass seeds here and there, or a few spores, and all of a sudden, you’ve got a very different ecosystem,” he said.
And it’s not just plants, he added. “Increasingly, we’re seeing evidence that non-native insect life is taking hold in Antarctica. And that can dramatically change things as well.”
The study shows how climate warming will shake up Antarctic ecosystems, said conservation scientist Jasmine Lee, a research fellow with the British Antarctic Survey who was not involved in the new study.
“It is clear that bank-forming mosses are expanding their range with warmer and wetter conditions, which is likely facilitating similar expansions for some of the invertebrate communities that rely on them for habitat,” she said. “At the same time, some specialist species, such as the more dry-loving mosses and invertebrates, might decline.”
She said the new study is valuable because it provides data across a broad region showing that Antarctic ecosystems are already rapidly altering and will continue to do so as climate change progresses.
“We focus a lot on how climate change is melting ice sheets and changing sea ice,” she said. “It’s good to also highlight that the terrestrial ecosystems are being impacted.”
The study shows climate impacts growing in “regions previously thought nearly immune to the accelerated warming we’re seeing today,” said climate policy expert Pam Pearson, director of the International Cryosphere Climate Initiative.
“It’s as important a signal as the loss of Antarctic sea ice over the past several years,” she said.
The new study identified vegetative changes by comparing the Landsat images at a resolution of 300-square-feet per pixel, detailed enough to accurately map vegetative growth, but it didn’t identify specific climate change factors that might be driving the expansion of plant life.
But other recent studies have documented Antarctic changes that could spur plant growth, including how some regions are affected by warm winds and by increasing amounts of rain from atmospheric rivers, as well as by declining sea ice that leads adjacent land areas to warm, all signs of rapid change in Antarctica.
Roland said their new study was in part spurred by previous research showing how fast patches of Antarctic moss were growing vertically and how microbial activity in tiny patches of soil was also accelerating.
“We’d taken these sediment cores, and done all sorts of analysis, including radiocarbon dating … showing the growth in the plants we’d sampled increasing dramatically,” he said.
Those measurements confirmed that the plants are sensitive to climate change, and as a next step, researchers wanted to know “if the plants are growing sideways at the same dramatic rate,” he said. “It’s one thing for plants to be growing upwards very fast. If they’re growing outwards, then you know you’re starting to see massive changes and massive increases in vegetation cover across the peninsula.”
With the study documenting significant horizontal expansion of vegetation, the researchers are now studying how recently deglaciated areas were first colonized by plants. About 90 percent of the glaciers on the Antarctic Peninsula have been shrinking for the past 75 years, Roland said.
“That’s just creating more and more land for this potentially rapid vegetation response,” he said. “So like Olly says, one of the things we can’t rule out is that this really does increase quite dramatically over the next few decades. Our findings raise serious concerns about the environmental future of the Antarctic Peninsula and of the continent as a whole.”
Earthquake scientists detected an unusual signal on monitoring stations used to detect seismic activity during September 2023. We saw it on sensors everywhere, from the Arctic to Antarctica.
We were baffled—the signal was unlike any previously recorded. Instead of the frequency-rich rumble typical of earthquakes, this was a monotonous hum, containing only a single vibration frequency. Even more puzzling was that the signal kept going for nine days.
Initially classified as a “USO”—an unidentified seismic object—the source of the signal was eventually traced back to a massive landslide in Greenland’s remote Dickson Fjord. A staggering volume of rock and ice, enough to fill 10,000 Olympic-sized swimming pools, plunged into the fjord, triggering a 200-meter-high mega-tsunami and a phenomenon known as a seiche: a wave in the icy fjord that continued to slosh back and forth, some 10,000 times over nine days.
To put the tsunami in context, that 200-meter wave was double the height of the tower that houses Big Ben in London and many times higher than anything recorded after massive undersea earthquakes in Indonesia in 2004 (the Boxing Day tsunami) or Japan in 2011 (the tsunami which hit Fukushima nuclear plant). It was perhaps the tallest wave anywhere on Earth since 1980.
Our discovery, now published in the journal Science, relied on collaboration with 66 other scientists from 40 institutions across 15 countries. Much like an air crash investigation, solving this mystery required putting many diverse pieces of evidence together, from a treasure trove of seismic data, to satellite imagery, in-fjord water level monitors, and detailed simulations of how the tsunami wave evolved.
This all highlighted a catastrophic, cascading chain of events, from decades to seconds before the collapse. The landslide traveled down a very steep glacier in a narrow gully before plunging into a narrow, confined fjord. Ultimately, though, it was decades of global heating that had thinned the glacier by several tens of meters, meaning that the mountain towering above it could no longer be held up.
Uncharted waters
But beyond the weirdness of this scientific marvel, this event underscores a deeper and more unsettling truth: climate change is reshaping our planet and our scientific methods in ways we are only beginning to understand.
It is a stark reminder that we are navigating uncharted waters. Just a year ago, the idea that a seiche could persist for nine days would have been dismissed as absurd. Similarly, a century ago, the notion that warming could destabilize slopes in the Arctic, leading to massive landslides and tsunamis happening almost yearly, would have been considered far-fetched. Yet, these once-unthinkable events are now becoming our newreality.
The “once unthinkable” ripples around the world.
As we move deeper into this new era, we can expect to witness more phenomena that defy our previous understanding, simply because our experience does not encompass the extreme conditions we are now encountering. We found a nine-day wave that previously no one could imagine could exist.
Traditionally, discussions about climate change have focused on us looking upwards and outwards to the atmosphere and to the oceans with shifting weather patterns, and rising sea levels. But Dickson Fjord forces us to look downward, to the very crust beneath our feet.
For perhaps the first time, climate change has triggered a seismic event with global implications. The landslide in Greenland sent vibrations through the Earth, shaking the planet and generating seismic waves that traveled all around the globe within an hour of the event. No piece of ground beneath our feet was immune to these vibrations, metaphorically opening up fissures in our understanding of these events.
This will happen again
Although landslide-tsunamis have been recorded before, the one in September 2023 was the first ever seen in east Greenland, an area that had appeared immune to these catastrophic climate change induced events.
This certainly won’t be the last such landslide-megatsunami. As permafrost on steep slopes continues to warm and glaciers continue to thin, we can expect these events to happen more often and on an even bigger scale across the world’s polar and mountainous regions. Recently identified unstable slopes in west Greenland and in Alaska are clear examples of looming disasters.
Enlarge/ Landslide-affected slopes around Barry Arm fjord, Alaska. If the slopes suddenly collapse, scientists fear a large tsunami would hit the town of Whittier, 48km away.
Gabe Wolken/USGS
As we confront these extreme and unexpected events, it is becoming clear that our existing scientific methods and toolkits may need to be fully equipped to deal with them. We had no standard workflow to analyze the 2023 Greenland event. We also must adopt a new mindset because our current understanding is shaped by a now near-extinct, previously stable climate.
As we continue to alter our planet’s climate, we must be prepared for unexpected phenomena that challenge our current understanding and demand new ways of thinking. The ground beneath us is shaking, both literally and figuratively. While the scientific community must adapt and pave the way for informed decisions, it’s up to decision-makers to act.
Data centers powering the generative AI boom are gulping water and exhausting electricity at what some researchers view as an unsustainable pace. Two entrepreneurs who met in high school a few years ago want to overcome that crunch with a fresh experiment: sinking the cloud into the sea.
Sam Mendel and Eric Kim launched their company, NetworkOcean, out of startup accelerator Y Combinator on August 15 by announcing plans to dunk a small capsule filled with GPU servers into San Francisco Bay within a month. “There’s this vital opportunity to build more efficient computer infrastructure that we’re gonna rely on for decades to come,” Mendel says.
The founders contend that moving data centers off land would slow ocean temperature rise by drawing less power and letting seawater cool the capsule’s shell, supplementing its internal cooling system. NetworkOcean’s founders have said a location in the bay would deliver fast processing speeds for the region’s buzzing AI economy.
But scientists who study the hundreds of square miles of brackish water say even the slightest heat or disturbance from NetworkOcean’s submersible could trigger toxic algae blooms and harm wildlife. And WIRED inquiries to several California and US agencies who oversee the bay found that NetworkOcean has been pursuing its initial test of an underwater data center without having sought, much less received, any permits from key regulators.
The outreach by WIRED prompted at least two agencies—the Bay Conservation and Development Commission and the San Francisco Regional Water Quality Control Board—to email NetworkOcean that testing without permits could run afoul of laws, according to public records and spokespeople for the agencies. Fines from the BCDC can run up to hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The nascent technology has already been in hot water in California. In 2016, the state’s coastal commission issued a previously unreported notice to Microsoft saying that the tech giant had violated the law the year before by plunging an unpermitted server vessel into San Luis Obispo Bay, about 250 miles south of San Francisco. The months-long test, part of what was known as Project Natick, had ended without apparent environmental harm by the time the agency learned of it, so officials decided not to fine Microsoft, according to the notice seen by WIRED.
The renewed scrutiny of underwater data centers has surfaced an increasingly common tension between innovative efforts to combat global climate change and long-standing environmental laws. Permitting takes months, if not years, and can cost millions of dollars, potentially impeding progress. Advocates of the laws argue that the process allows for time and input to better weigh trade-offs.
“Things are overregulated because people often don’t do the right thing,” says Thomas Mumley, recently retired assistant executive officer of the bay water board. “You give an inch, they take a mile. We have to be cautious.”
Over the last two weeks, including during an interview at the WIRED office, NetworkOcean’s founders have provided driblets of details about their evolving plans. Their current intention is to test their underwater vessel for about an hour, just below the surface of what Mendel would only describe as a privately owned and operated portion of the bay that he says is not subject to regulatory oversight. He insists that a permit is not required based on the location, design, and minimal impact. “We have been told by our potential testing site that our setup is environmentally benign,” Mendel says.
Mumley, the retired regulator, calls the assertion about not needing a permit “absurd.” Both Bella Castrodale, the BCDC’s lead enforcement attorney, and Keith Lichten, a water board division manager, say private sites and a quick dip in the bay aren’t exempt from permitting. Several other experts in bay rules tell WIRED that even if some quirk does preclude oversight, they believe NetworkOcean is sending a poor message to the public by not coordinating with regulators.
“Just because these centers would be out of sight does not mean they are not a major disturbance,” says Jon Rosenfield, science director at San Francisco Baykeeper, a nonprofit that investigates industrial polluters.
School project
Mendel and Kim say they tried to develop an underwater renewable energy device together during high school in Southern California before moving onto non-nautical pursuits. Mendel, 23, dropped out of college in 2022 and founded a platform for social media influencers.
About a year ago, he built a small web server using the DIY system Raspberry Pi to host another personal project, and temporarily floated the equipment in San Francisco Bay by attaching it to a buoy from a private boat in the Sausalito area. (Mendel declined to answer questions about permits.) After talking with Kim, also 23, about this experiment, the two decided to move in together and start NetworkOcean.
Their pitch is that underwater data centers are more affordable to develop and maintain, especially as electricity shortages limit sites on land. Surrounding a tank of hot servers with water naturally helps cools them, avoiding the massive resource drain of air-conditioning and also improving on the similar benefits of floating data centers. Developers of offshore wind farms are eager to electrify NetworkOcean vessels, Mendel says.
Enlarge/ Loads of lava: Kasbohm with a few solidified lava flows of the Columbia River Basalts.
Joshua Murray
As our climate warms beyond its historical range, scientists increasingly need to study climates deeper in the planet’s past to get information about our future. One object of study is a warming event known as the Miocene Climate Optimum (MCO) from about 17 to 15 million years ago. It coincided with floods of basalt lava that covered a large area of the Northwestern US, creating what are called the “Columbia River Basalts.” This timing suggests that volcanic CO2 was the cause of the warming.
A paper just published in Geology, led by Jennifer Kasbohm of the Carnegie Science’s Earth and Planets Laboratory, upends the idea that the eruptions triggered the warming while still blaming them for the peak climate warmth.
The study is the result of the world’s first successful application of high-precision radiometric dating on climate records obtained by drilling into ocean sediments, opening the door to improved measurements of past climate changes. As a bonus, it confirms the validity of mathematical models of our orbits around the Solar System over deep time.
A past climate with today’s CO2 levels
“Today, with 420 parts per million [of CO2], we are basically entering the Miocene Climate Optimum,” said Thomas Westerhold of the University of Bremen, who peer-reviewed Kasbohm’s study. While our CO2 levels match, global temperatures have not yet reached the MCO temperatures of up to 8° C above the preindustrial era. “We are moving the Earth System from what we call the Ice House world… in the complete opposite direction,” said Westerhold.
When Kasbohm began looking into the link between the basalts and the MCO’s warming in 2015, she found that the correlation had huge uncertainties. So she applied high-precision radiometric dating, using the radioactive decay of uranium trapped within zircon crystals to determine the age of the basalts. She found that her new ages no longer spanned the MCO warming. “All of these eruptions [are] crammed into just a small part of the Miocene Climate Optimum,” said Kasbohm.
But there were also huge uncertainties in the dates for the MCO, so it was possible that the mismatch was an artifact of those uncertainties. Kasbohm set out to apply the same high-precision dating to the marine sediments that record the MCO.
A new approach to an old problem
“What’s really exciting… is that this is the first time anyone’s applied this technique to sediments in these ocean drill cores,” said Kasbohm.
Normally, dates for ocean sediments drilled from the seabed are determined using a combination of fossil changes, magnetic field reversals, and aligning patterns of sediment layers with orbital wobbles calculated by astronomers. Each of those methods has uncertainties that are compounded by gaps in the sediment caused by the drilling process and by natural pauses in the deposition of material. Those make it tricky to match different records with the precision needed to determine cause and effect.
The uncertainties made the timing of the MCO unclear.
Enlarge/ Tiny clocks: Zircon crystals from volcanic ash that fell into the Caribbean Sea during the Miocene.
Jennifer Kasbohm
Radiometric dating would circumvent those uncertainties. But until about 15 years ago, its dates had such large errors that they were useless for addressing questions like the timing of the MCO. The technique also typically needs kilograms of material to find enough uranium-containing zircon crystals, whereas ocean drill cores yield just grams.
But scientists have significantly reduced those limitations: “Across the board, people have been working to track and quantify and minimize every aspect of uncertainty that goes into the measurements we make. And that’s what allows me to report these ages with such great precision,” Kasbohm said.
Enlarge/ Power lines are cast in silhouette as the Creek Fire creeps up on on the Shaver Springs community off of Tollhouse Road on Tuesday, Sept. 8, 2020, in Auberry, California.
This article originally appeared on Inside Climate News, a nonprofit, independent news organization that covers climate, energy and the environment. It is republished with permission. Sign up for their newsletter here.
Most people are “very” or “extremely” concerned about the state of the natural world, a new global public opinion survey shows.
Roughly 70 percent of 22,000 people polled online earlier this year agreed that human activities were pushing the Earth past “tipping points,” thresholds beyond which nature cannot recover, like loss of the Amazon rainforest or collapse of the Atlantic Ocean’s currents. The same number of respondents said the world needs to reduce carbon emissions within the next decade.
Just under 40 percent of respondents said technological advances can solve environmental challenges.
The Global Commons survey, conducted for two collectives of “economic thinkers” and scientists known as Earth4All and the Global Commons Alliance, polled people across 22 countries, including low-, middle- and high-income nations. The survey’s stated aim was to assess public opinion about “societal transformations” and “planetary stewardship.”
The results, released Thursday, highlight that people living under diverse circumstances seem to share worries about the health of ecosystems and the environmental problems future generations will inherit.
Explore the latest news about what’s at stake for the climate during this election season.
But there were some regional differences. People living in emerging economies, including Kenya and India, perceived themselves to be more exposed to environmental and climate shocks, like drought, flooding, and extreme weather. That group expressed higher levels of concern about the environment, though 59 percent of all respondents said they are “very” or “extremely” worried about “the state of nature today,” and another 29 percent are at least somewhat concerned.
Americans are included in the global majority, but a more complex picture emerged in the details of the survey, conducted by Ipsos.
Roughly one in two Americans said they are not very or not at all exposed to environmental and climate change risks. Those perceptions contrast sharply with empirical evidence showing that climate change is having an impact in nearly every corner of the United States. A warming planet has intensified hurricanes battering coasts, droughts striking middle American farms, and wildfires threatening homes and air quality across the country. And climate shocks are driving up prices of some food, like chocolate and olive oil, and consumer goods.
Americans also largely believe they do not bear responsibility for global environmental problems. Only about 15 percent of US respondents said that high- and middle-income Americans share responsibility for climate change and natural destruction. Instead, they attribute the most blame to businesses and governments of wealthy countries.
Those survey responses suggest that at least half of Americans may not feel they have any skin in the game when it comes to addressing global environmental problems, according to Geoff Dabelko, a professor at Ohio University and expert in environmental policy and security.
Translating concern about the environment to actual change requires people to believe they have something at stake, Dabelko said. “It’s troubling that Americans aren’t making that connection.”
While fossil fuel companies have long campaigned to shape public perception in a way that absolves their industry of fault for ecosystem destruction and climate change, individual behavior does play a role. Americans have some of the highest per-capita consumption rates in the world.
The world’s wealthiest 10 percent are responsible for nearly half the world’s carbon emissions, along with ecosystem destruction and related social impacts. For instance, American consumption of gold, tropical hardwoods like mahogany and cedar and other commodities has been linked to the destruction of the Amazon rainforest and attacks on Indigenous people defending their territories from extractive activities.
The United States is one of the world’s wealthiest countries and home to 38 percent of the world’s millionaires (the largest share). But a person doesn’t need to be a millionaire to fit within the cohort of the world’s wealthiest. Americans without children earning more than $60,000 a year after tax, and families of three with an after-tax household income above $130,000, are in the richest 1 percent of the world’s population.
United Nations emissions gap reports have said that to reach global climate goals, the world’s wealthiest people must cut their personal emissions by at least a factor of 30. High-income Americans’ emissions footprint is largely a consequence of lifestyle choices like living in large homes, flying often, opting for personal vehicles over public transportation, and conspicuous consumption of fast fashion and other consumer goods.
