Australian Climate and Energy Minister Chris Bowen has downplayed widespread criticism of Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s failure to mention fossil fuels in his speech at the UN climate summit COP31 in Turkey.

“In Dubai, [the COP28 summit in 2023], the call to transition away from fossil fuels in our energy system was an Australian suggestion,” Bowen told The Conversation in an interview at COP31 in the coastal city of Antalya. “The Prime Minister’s speech was […] a very strong and a very clear call for climate action.”

Bowen has the role of chief negotiator at the climate summit this year, which Australia is co-hosting with Turkey.

In his speech, Albanese did not mention fossil fuels, such as coal, oil and gas, which are the cause of human-induced global heating. Just minutes before he spoke, UN secretary general António Guterres had urged countries to make fossil fuels “go the way of the dinosaurs”. “The dinosaurs did not have a lobby. Fossil fuels do,” he said.

Guterres and leaders from several other countries including Brazil, Germany and the Netherlands are pushing for countries to develop roadmaps to transition their energy systems away from fossil fuels.

Asked if Australia should develop a national transition roadmap, Bowen pointed to Australia’s national net zero plan, which outlines how to achieve net zero emissions by 2050. “They’re called plans, but they could just as easily be called roadmaps. So I would say that we are we are doing that, and we have targets which are, in my view, ambitious and achievable,” he said.

Australia is the world’s second-largest exporter of coal for power stations and the largest exporter of coal for steel making. A fifth of the world’s exported liquid natural gas, or LNG, comes from Australia. Australia is on track to reach its 43% emissions reduction target by 2030. But current policies fall far short of what would be needed for more future goals, such as the 2035 target of a 62%–70% reduction.

Electrification has been a major focus of the climate summit this year. Australia and Turkey have launched a “35-by-35” electrification pledge, calling on other countries to join up. But the pledge does not specify how much of this electricity should be generated from renewable sources.

“Our work shows that almost all electrification is good,” said Bowen. “Obviously, it’s best when coupled with a big expansion of renewable energy […] but when you’re electrifying something, you’re reducing emissions.”

Electric technologies are more efficient than fossil-fuelled equivalents. An electric car converts more of its energy into movement than a petrol car, for example.

“We’re currently [producing] about 23% electricity in the energy mix,” said Bowen. “It’s been growing by 0.3% a year. We have no chance of keeping at 1.5°C if that rate of electrification continues.”

The numbers of fossil fuel lobbyists attending the summit will be public within the next few days. Around 1,600 attended the COP30 climate talks in Brazil last year.

Asked if lobbyists should be banned from COP climate summits, Bowen said he understood concerns about influence but that if the public wanted an open summit, lobbyists could not be barred.

“COP is negotiated by ministers, and ministers only. No one else, I can tell you. When I’m negotiating with other ministers, there’s no lobbyists in the room. Fossil fuels or renewable energy, they’re not allowed in,” he said.

This year, there’s a strong push for action to keep the target of no more than 1.5°C of global warming “within reach”. This means although the world will overshoot 1.5°C sometime in the next three years, emissions cuts and massive carbon removal could – theoretically at least – bring temperatures back down by the end of the century.

Asked if claiming it was possible to bring temperatures down by the end of the century was giving people unrealistic hope, Bowen said there were factual caveats.

“Overshooting 1.5°C does mean that more things need to be on the table,” he said. “I have a pragmatic approach to CCS [carbon capture and storage]. It’s expensive, but you know where it can play a role, fine. But it’s not the answer, and it shouldn’t take the emphasis off direct emissions reduction,” he said. “You can’t just say, ‘Oh, well, we’ll keep warming, and eventually, direct air capture will sort it out’.”

There are currently around 77 facilities operating worldwide which capture and store CO₂ in rocks underground, and in former oil and gasfields. This only accounts for about 0.01% of humanity’s emissions.

Asked if UN summits were too unambitious and slow-moving, Bowen acknowledged the COP process had not averted temperature rise about 1.5°C but had changed the trajectory of global gas emissions.

“The world was on course for more than four degrees of warming when the Paris agreement was struck. Now it’s 2.6°C. [And] 2.6°C isn’t good enough, but it’s a lot better than four,” he said.

“All countries are in this together. No country alone can tackle this. So, international cooperation is not an option. It’s a must-have.”

The US-Iran conflict and searing fuel prices had affirmed the role of renewables for many Australians, he said.

“People have always understood renewable energy can be reliable, but it’s just become a lot starker in the last six months,” Bowen said.

“There’s a polycrisis around the world – multiple crises on multiple fronts. The good news is the answer is often the same: renewable energy is more reliable, [and] it’s great for emissions. It’s the answer for climate and for energy security.”

Miki Perkins, Environment & Energy Editor, The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Australia’s transition to clean energy is happening at pace, with regional areas front and centre. Rural communities are being asked to host the wind farms, solar panels and transmission lines to power our biggest cities – sometimes hundreds of kilometres away.

Accommodating these large developments can be burdensome for small communities. Projects can impact farmland and load local roads. They can also pile more pressure on housing and essential services.

To sweeten the deal, affected communities are being promised a once-in-a-generation wave of investment, touted as an economic lifeline for many regional towns struggling to survive.

Not everyone is buying the promise. With a state election looming, Victoria offers some stark examples of how these tensions are playing out.

Some councils have been sidelined by the state government in key decisions. Planning laws have been changed to fast-track projects. In many areas, community backlash has been fierce.

These tensions point to questions that go beyond any individual project. Are regional communities being given a meaningful say in their economic future? And will they actually be left better off?

Big changes are coming

For regional Australia, the scale of change is enormous. So, too, is the economic opportunity it presents.

The Australian Energy Market Operator has estimated that achieving net zero emissions will require $106 billion in new investment (in today’s dollars) by 2050. This includes investment in 6,000 kilometres of new transmission lines across the country.

This money is already flowing. According to the Clean Energy Council, 141 clean energy projects worth about $32.5 billion were financed or already under construction in the first half of this year.

A noisy, confusing picture

One of the biggest challenges for communities is navigating this rapidly evolving landscape. Each state and territory is taking a different approach to these developments – not only for renewable energy but also for critical minerals and mining more broadly.

Take Victoria, for example. VicGrid and the Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action recently released community engagement and social value guidelines. These set minimum expectations for engagement with and benefits for communities and landowners who host projects, but (unlike in New South Wales) no minimum dollar-per-megawatt figure.

The guidelines only cover renewable energy and transmission projects, but exclude projects connecting to the local distribution network. Separate compensation arrangements apply to some transmission projects, adding to the complexity.

Initially voluntary, these guidelines only become mandatory in mid-2027, when the extent of collaboration between developers will also be assessed.

Importantly, and perhaps confusingly, they do not cover critical mineral projects. These are covered by separate legislation and still-to-be-determined community benefit payments.

In short, it is a noisy, confusing and dynamic landscape for communities and landowners.

Yet some regional communities are taking matters into their own hands and electing to shape their own energy destiny. In north-west Victoria, for example, Wimmera Southern Mallee Development has been working with energy developers and various government agencies through its Renewable Energy Collaboration partnership.

Not everyone is on board

Victoria again offers some striking examples of vocal community opposition.

There’s been sustained backlash from farmers against the Victoria to NSW Interconnector West (VNI West) transmission project in north-west Victoria, which the state opposition have vowed to scrap if elected.

And in the north of the state, intense community backlash recently convinced the government to abandon a plan to create a new renewable energy zone around Dookie.

This month, Australian Public Policy Institute research (of which I was a coauthor) casts light on some of these concerns for rural Australia more broadly.

This drew on workshops and interviews conducted with a broad range of stakeholders in three towns in regional NSW impacted by renewable energy development. We found affected communities broadly support the shift to clean energy.

However, key community concerns are already delaying the process. This threatens to to undermine the long-term energy transition.

Why communities are wary

Assessing these responses, we found three big challenges for the government and industry.

First, community consultation and engagement were seen as inconsistent and often inadequate. Further, there were limited opportunities for communities, including First Nations people, to meaningfully influence project planning and decision-making.

Second, communication and planning processes lacked transparency, clarity and a place-based focus.

And third, communities are experiencing significant social and economic impacts. Benefit-sharing and compensation arrangements were viewed as inequitable, insufficiently targeted and lacking long-term community value.

Bridging all of these challenges, we found trust in industry, government and the planning system was fragile.

What communities want

Encouragingly, however, we also found regional participants in NSW were keen to provide detailed policy solutions for governments to address many of these challenges.

They called for four key changes.

First, minimum, enforceable engagement standards should be required for all major energy projects. These standards should prioritise transparency, accountability and building trust.

Second, governments should work with communities to develop a framework on sharing of benefits. This should then be embedded into planning regulations.

Third, there should be more support and resources for communities to help with negotiating how project benefits are shared.

And fourth, at all levels of government, planning processes and governance should adopt a place-based approach tailored to local needs.

Building trust

Increasingly for Australia, the main barriers to a successful shift to renewable energy are not technical but social.

Many rural and regional communities feel excluded from decisions about how the transition will be achieved. Importantly, communities are not rejecting the transition. They are asking for better information and communication, fairer benefits, and a genuine role in shaping the changes that affect them.

Simon Wright, Senior Research Fellow, Energy & Circularity, Gulbali Institute, Charles Sturt University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

What’s the best way to protect ourselves against climate change? The default is to reach for concrete and steel to build seawalls, dykes, dams and drainage systems. These can work. But they are expensive and inflexible.

There’s another, much cheaper option which gets vastly less attention. Mangroves, forests and urban trees can help protect humans and their homes, farms and cities from floods, droughts, rising seas and heat.

As our recent research shows, these methods aren’t fig leaves – they’re high-performance critical infrastructure.

Unlike grey infrastructure of steel and concrete, these living systems can adapt as the climate shifts. Mangrove forests can shift as the sea rises, for example.

Green infrastructure has proven itself cost-effective and functional in nations from Brazil to Kenya to Indonesia. But adoption could be much broader – if authorities properly considered nature as an infrastructure option.

The limits of concrete and steel

Many engineered assets were designed for a stable climate that no longer exists.

Coastal defences designed to repel mid-20th century level storm surges are being breached with growing regularity.

As rainfall patterns shift, a rise in extreme rainfall can overwhelm drainage systems built for the last century. In 2022, severe summer downpours caused the failure of water infrastructure in Jackson, Mississippi. This year, intense cloudbursts turned streets into raging rivers in Saitama, Japan.

Once built, concrete and steel do their job until they fail. But living systems can respond by adjusting to new patterns of temperature, rainfall and sediment deposition rather than simply failing.

The idea isn’t new. In the 1990s, New York City authorities spent roughly A$2.1 billion protecting forests and plants in the city’s watershed. As a result, they avoided the need to build a conventional filtration plant, which would have cost an estimated $8.6-11 billion.

Many other nations have embraced cheaper, more flexible green infrastructure.

Mangroves protect coastlines

Tropical nations face the worst risk from sea level rise, as they are home to more than 60% of the world’s low-lying coastlines.

Even if greenhouse emissions are drastically reduced, by 2100 seas will rise about 0.6 metres above 2000 levels. If emissions don’t fall sharply, sea level rise will be more like 2.2m.

Without efforts to adapt, encroaching seas could do more than $27 trillion in damage globally.

Governments often build seawalls and dykes to protect coasts. These can work, but they cost a great deal and can fail catastrophically under extreme conditions.

By contrast, fast-growing mangroves naturally dampen storm surges and inundation. Protection from the world’s existing mangrove forests is worth an estimated A$1.2 trillion over 100 years.

Planting mangroves typically cost less than 50% of the cost of concrete and steel equivalents for the same protection, while the value of avoided property damage can be 10 to 100 times greater than planting costs.

In the Mekong Delta, authorities are combining grey and green infrastructure, planting mangrove belts to give built embankments a longer lifespan and cut maintenance costs.

Forests are water infrastructure

It makes good financial sense to replant forests in city watersheds, as they naturally filter rainwater as it fills dams. Protecting intact forests – and the watersheds they protect – is also sensible, as these act as vital water infrastructure, recycling water and even generating rainfall.

The rainfall and water recycling produced by the Brazilian Amazon rainforest is worth about $20 billion a year. This supports agriculture, power generation and regional water supplies.

Forests can even boost energy security in nations reliant on hydroelectricity, such as Brazil. When forests are cut down, rain washes more silt into rivers where it can fill up hydropower dams and reduces power generation.

Trees cool cities

Concrete, bricks and tarmac trap heat and make cities hotter than their surrounding areas. This urban heat island effect can pose a severe risk to health, particularly in rapidly urbanising parts of the Global South.

Street trees and urban forests can make cities significantly cooler, avoiding heat-related deaths and cutting energy demand.

Singapore’s plan to plant a million trees by 2030 is predicted to cut outdoor heat stress by 3–5°C and reduce the energy used for air-conditioning in summer by 6–9%.

In Colombia, green corridors planted along roads and waterways have reduced average temperatures 2°C, returning $1.7 in avoided health costs for every $1 spent on the project.

Unlocking green infrastructure

The benefits of green infrastructure are well known. But investment in green infrastructure remains limited.

When governments want to build new infrastructure, their procurement rules typically favour traditional grey infrastructure, which come with established engineering standards and contractual certainty.

But these decisions often don’t weigh up green infrastructure fairly, because wider benefits such as avoided flood risks and water services aren’t typically included in the accounting framework used.

Four fixes

To solve this problem, governments, climate adaptation funds and development banks will have to adopt four fixes:

1. Recognise green infrastructure as a capital asset in national planning frameworks, governed by the same mechanisms as grey assets
2. Protect existing forests, mangroves and other green assets before new grey structures are built
3. Ensure the value of ecosystems is included in project appraisals by switching to an accounting method which puts a value on intact ecosystems
4. Ensure large development plans include both grey and green infrastructure designed for future climate scenarios.

These shifts are technically feasible and economically justified.

Politics and inertia are the biggest blockers. Grey infrastructure is the incumbent, while green infrastructure is the contender.

As damage from climate change intensifies, this will have to change. Green infrastructure is cheaper and more adaptable than grey. It’s not nice to have – it’s necessity.

Andrew Lowe, Director, Environment Institute, Adelaide University ; Jasmin Packer, Research Fellow in Wildlife Conservation, Adelaide University , and Robert Nasi, Director General CIFOR, Director of Science CIFOR-ICRAF, Center for International Forestry Research – World Agroforestry (CIFOR-ICRAF)

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The latest UN climate summit, Cop31, will get underway in Antalya, Turkey, on November 9. One of its key objectives is to boost electrification across the global economy – replacing petrol and diesel vehicles, gas boilers and some industrial processes that burn fossil fuels with electric alternatives.

The summit’s host, Turkey, has set a target of 35% of energy demand being met by electricity by 2035, up from around 20% today. Announcing the “35-by-35” pledge, Cop31 president Murat Kurum described it as “one of the defining features” of Turkey’s presidency, highlighting the risks of continued dependence on imported fossil fuels.

Without doubt, electrification is essential to curtailing greenhouse gas emissions, and is already gathering pace. The International Energy Agency (IEA) has declared we are living in the “age of electricity”, and if stated policy pledges hold, global electrification rates will hit 31% by 2050. The Cop31’s focus on electrification hopes to build upon and accelerate this existing trend.

But electrification alone won’t deliver a clean energy transition. Two major challenges remain: the continued expansion of fossil fuel production, and growing geopolitical competition over clean technologies where the latter is increasingly shaping governments’ climate and energy policies, as they struggle to compete with dominant “electrostates” such as China.

Silence on supply

The Australian climate minister and Cop31’s president of negotiations has described electrification and fossil fuel reduction as “different sides of the same coin”. But they are not interchangeable. Electrification can reduce some demand for fossil fuels, but it won’t stop governments approving new projects and expanding supply.

By 2030, governments are planning to produce more than double the amount of fossil fuels than would be consistent with limiting warning to 1.5°C. More concerning is that this assessment was made before the conflict and disruption in the Middle East, which has caused the US, Brazil, Guyana, Argentina, Canada and other fossil fuel producers to increase output in the name of energy security. The UK, meanwhile, has approved the Jackdaw gasfield in a purported bid to protect jobs and keep homes warm.

The 35-by-35 target is also silent on where that additional electricity will come from. After all, a country could in theory increase its rate of electrification by burning more fossil fuels (imagine a country where every car was electric, but all that electricity came from coal).

A genuine energy transition

What’s needed is the two-pronged approach of electrifying economies while simultaneously phasing out fossil fuels and reducing their supply. This will ensure capital is reallocated to renewable energy for electrification. Governments can do this nationally or through international initiatives such as the Beyond Oil and Gas Alliance, the Clean Energy Transition Partnership and the Cop-adjacent conference on Transitioning Away from Fossil Fuels.

Skirting the fossil fuel issue is nothing new at these summits. It took 26 years for a formal resolution or agreement to explicitly name fossil fuels, in Glasgow in 2021. And even then it only passed with calls to “phasedown” unabated coal power and phase-out “inefficient” fossil fuel subsidies.

At Cop31, fossil fuels are entirely absent from the formal agenda. Brazil has published an extensive voluntary “roadmap” to guide governments’ phase-out efforts, but this sits outside the formal negotiations and lacks timelines.

This begs the question: is a focus on electrification a way to avoid the perennially thorny issue of fossil fuels?

Just electrify everything

Even growing demand for electricity does not guarantee a clean energy transition. The data centre boom in the US and beyond, for instance, is driving the use of gas and coal to generate electricity. The International Gas Union, a lobby group for natural gas producers, is explicitly positioning gas as a way to meet growing demand from data centres and AI.

Increasing electrification looks relatively straightforward: just encourage more renewable energy production and electric vehicles. Yet, for most of the world, this would mean overcoming security and trade tensions with China, whose dominance in clean technologies, manufacturing and rare earth processing makes it a lynchpin electrostate in a world hoping to electrify everything.

China’s dominance is near total. For the component materials of solar panels, in 2024 China controlled 93% of global polysilicon processing, 97% of wafer manufacturing – making the thin slices of silicon that form the basis of solar panels – 92% of solar cell manufacturing and 86% of solar module production. It also produced more than 80% of electric vehicle batteries in 2025. According to the IEA, China is dominant across 19 of 20 energy-related strategic minerals, averaging over 70% of processing control. Achieving global electrification targets will therefore require continued access to Chinese technologies, products and raw materials.

This runs counter to almost two decades of western policy aimed at protecting domestic industries from Chinese competition and restricting China’s technological development, most notably with semi-conductors. While these efforts have largely failed to contain Chinese innovation, an overreliance on Chinese clean technologies is increasingly seen as a “serious risk” to Europe’s economic and national security. European governments have responded with tariffs and restrictions on Chinese imports and investments, while seeking to build up their own manufacturing capacity.

Governments face a difficult dilemma. Opening their economies further to Chinese technologies could mean unpicking trade protections developed over years and create new dependencies, while refusing to cooperate with China risks slowing electrification and may even drive some governments to abandon climate and energy policies altogether because they cannot compete.

While the drive towards electrification at Cop31 is to be welcomed, it cannot be a substitute for the harder political task of securing binding commitments to phase out fossil fuels, fast and fairly.

Freddie Daley, Research Associate, Centre for Global Political Economy, University of Sussex and Peter Newell, Professor of International Relations, University of Sussex

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Did you know that global heating will unavoidably soar past the 1.5°C temperature goal over the next three to four years? This is certain, despite our efforts to address the climate crisis.

In fact, a recent United Nations report found that with current climate and energy policies, the world is on track to heat 2.6°C above industrial levels by the end of this century. This is well beyond the Paris Agreement target of 1.5°C, and we know the dangerous consequences: more forest fires, extreme weather, loss of nature and rising seas.

Governments, scientists and communities affected by climate change are meeting this week in the Turkish city of Antalya for COP31, the annual UN climate conference. Australia is leading the negotiations as part of a compromise deal struck with Turkey at last year’s meeting.

At COP31, expect to see a strong push for action to keep 1.5°C “within reach”. This means that even if the world temporarily overshoots 1.5°C, emissions cuts and massive carbon removal could, theoretically at least, bring temperatures back down by the end of the century.

So, why is the 1.5°C target so significant? And how was this goal decided?

Where did 1.5°C come from?

In the 1990s and early 2000s, scientists and policymakers aspired to limit global warming to no more than 2°C above pre-industrial levels. But by the mid-2000s, there were concerns that limiting global warming to 2°C was going to be very challenging, if not unachievable.

Before 2015, the 1.5°C target received little attention in UN climate negotiations, with structured discussions only during 2013-15. In fact, its inclusion in the Paris Agreement – the international treaty to cut emissions — was pushed by an informal coalition of small island nations, supported most prominently by the European Union and the United States. Known as the High Ambition Coalition, this group said 1.5°C was the only target that could give citizens from their nations a future.

Following the Paris Agreement, the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change immediately requested a special report on the implications of the 1.5°C target. It found major differences in the risks to natural and human systems between 1.5°C and 2°C.

So this more ambitious 1.5°C target came largely as a condition of small-island states accepting the Paris Agreement. It was acclaimed by some as a target set by the people, which superseded the 2°C target that resulted from sustained scientific and policy discussions.

Overshooting 1.5°C

A recent UN report confirmed that global emissions reductions have not been enough to stop global warming passing 1.5°C in the next few years.

While calls for the 1.5°C target came from the coalition of small island states, UN assessment reports published after the Paris Agreement showed it would be largely impossible to prevent global warming passing 1.5°C. Instead, they predicted temporary overshoot scenarios, where 1.5°C was initially exceeded and large-scale carbon dioxide removal used to bring temperatures back down by the end of this century.

The fact we are soon to cross 1.5°C is consistent with science that has been developed over the past decade. But it remains devastating to small island nations around the world, which are feeling the impacts of climate change and sea-level rise.

Importantly, every additional degree brings us closer to potential “tipping points” – where the complex systems we rely on, such as climates and ecosystems, can abruptly shift once a critical threshold is crossed. These include changes in the ocean currents that bring warmth to northern Europe and increased emissions from thawing permafrost.

Is it realistic to remove that much carbon?

The only way to reverse temperature increases once we overshoot 1.5°C is through deep emissions cuts and large-scale carbon dioxide removal. If we overshoot beyond 1.8°C, the science suggests it will be very difficult, if not impossible, to engineer a temperature decline. This is because of the extraordinary quantities of carbon dioxide removal required.

There are clear limits to the amount of carbon that can be removed from the atmosphere. The UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimated that for every 1,000 gigatonnes (billion metric tonnes) of carbon dioxide emitted, the global mean temperature increases by 0.45°C. This means, for example, we would need to remove 660 gigatonnes of carbon dioxide to correct an overshoot of 0.3°C. The more we go over our targets, the harder, longer and more costly it will be to return. At some point, damage becomes irreversible.

To put that in context, the global reforestation and the establishment of new forests captures and stores 2.2 gigatonnes of carbon dioxide each year, mainly in China, Europe and the US. This is equivalent to about a 5% carbon offset of current carbon dioxide emissions from fossil fuel.

It’s possible to increase forest area, but there are limits to how much land can be reforested without negative impacts on biodiversity, water availability and rural and Indigenous communities.

Meanwhile, technological solutions such as direct air capture provide only 0.002 billion tonnes of carbon removal annually. These technologies have the capacity to grow, but will need considerable development to reduce their cost and energy use.

The best chance we have

Over more than 30 years, the COP process has been central to making climate action a near-universal commitment. The Paris Agreement created a process for countries to continually strengthen their pledges to cut emissions, and improved transparency.

These annual summits have also created a crucial platform to pressure governments and foster cooperation, particularly between developed and developing nations. The exponential global growth in clean energy owes much of its success to government policies steered by UN summit negotiations.

While the UN’s climate agenda has not moved at the necessary speed, there is no alternative forum to these summits that offers a way to ratchet up global climate ambition.

This year, COP31 has the opportunity to turn the soon-to-be-crossed 1.5°C Paris Agreement target into more aggressive policies for faster emission cuts, and ensure the flow of finance to support sustainable development for all nations.

Pep Canadell, Chief Research Scientist, CSIRO Environment; Executive Director, Global Carbon Project, CSIRO

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Nearly every country in the world has acknowledged that climate change is a serious problem. It’s hard to ignore, as billions of people suffer through increasingly destructive storms and extreme heat.

In response, most governments have promised repeatedly to cut greenhouse gas emissions that are driving global temperatures higher. Yet those emissions are still hitting record levels, and global negotiations over how to slow climate change routinely end with weak promises.

There’s a reason: All it takes to water down a deal during these negotiations – the 2026 U.N. climate conference started Nov. 9 – are a few voices obstructing progress, often without ever saying “no,” and all the while maintaining the appearance of being a climate leader.

As a professor of environmental studies and international relations at the University of Southern California, I’ve attended and observed international climate negotiations for over a decade. My research lab investigates climate justice concerns and the forces that obstruct progress at the global U.N. climate talks.

As world leaders and their negotiators meet for the latest climate talks, COP31, in Antalya, Turkey, Nov. 9-20, you can also pick out who is obstructing progress. Here are five tactics among many that powerful people at these conferences use to delay, weaken or redirect meaningful action while still appearing committed to addressing climate change:

1. Say we can’t afford it

“We don’t have the money” is a familiar refrain at U.N. climate negotiations.

At COP29 in Baku, Azerbaijan, in 2024, wealthy countries pointed to tight budgets, pandemic debt and rising inflation as reasons they could not meet the US$1.3 trillion in assistance that developing countries were demanding. They instead offered $300 billion annually by 2035 as a finance target.

Poorer countries that did little to cause climate change want longtime fossil fuel users to pay for the damage emissions have caused. The COP29 agreement itself estimated that developing countries’ climate needed $5.1 trillion to $6.8 trillion in total through 2030.

In reality, affordability is really about priorities.

For example, the International Institute for Sustainable Development found that governments around the world provided more than $1.2 trillion in public financial support for fossil fuels in 2024, about five times the $254 billion they provided for clean energy.

Military budgets tell a similar story. Over the decade from 2014 to 2024, the U.S. contributed $2 billion to the Green Climate Fund, meant to support poorer countries as they adapt to climate change, while Congress simultaneously approved at least $79 billion to help foreign countries by U.S. military weapons. Recent research points out that rising military spending makes climate goals even harder to reach because so much military activity runs on fossil fuels.

The money exists. The question is where governments choose to spend it.

2. Promise to fix it later

Another tactic is claiming that technological innovations will clean things up eventually, so drastic emissions cuts can wait or even be avoided.

This technological optimism has deep roots. In 2004, Princeton scholars Steve Pacala and Robert Socolow proposed the “stabilization wedge” approach to addressing climate change. It slices future emissions growth into 15 strategy wedges, each representing a way to cut 1 billion tons of carbon dioxide. Selecting from that menu, government could piece together a suitable emissions reduction strategy.

Renewable energy solutions such as solar and wind were proposed as wedges, but so were carbon capture and storage technologies – which would allow the burning of fossil fuels to continue.

Scientists, including one of the original authors, have claimed that the wedges approach makes a difficult problem look deceptively simple to solve. Recent reporting by ProPublica tracked money behind the wedges project back to the fossil fuel giant BP.

Yet the same logic is now present in agreements emerging from recent climate talks.

3. Water down the promise

Another tactic is to agree to something, then water it down over time until it is no longer binding.

At COP26 in Glasgow, Scotland, in 2022, early drafts of the agreement called for the “phasing out” of fossil fuels. It would have been a true milestone, as it was the first time the words “fossil fuels” had appeared in a climate agreement.

However, after a late push led by India, backed by China, South Africa and others, the final text was changed to “phasedown” of “unabated” coal power instead. Additionally, the pact said nothing of oil and gas, the fuels that wealthier countries depend on most.

The first fossil fuel language in a U.N. climate pact came out diluted. Four years later, at COP30, 88 countries backed a roadmap to move the world away from using fossil fuels, but the final decision left it out.

4. Make promises, then fail to deliver

Countries are really good at making pledges to help, but not so much at providing the funding.

In 2009, wealthy countries promised developing countries $100 billion annually to help them address climate risks. They missed that target for over a decade. Even when they did claim to hit the target, they relied largely on dubious accounting, with donors counting fossil fuel projects, airports and even ice cream shops as climate aid.

The Loss and Damage Fund created at COP27 in 2021 to help countries manage disaster damage shows a similar pattern. Only about half of the roughly $822 million pledged had been paid in five years later, and the fund has not paid out a single dollar to a country hit by a disaster.

Nepal has emerged as a critical test of the fund’s integrity. After a glacier collapse triggered a sudden flood that killed more than 1,400 people in Nepal in August 2026, the government estimated the country had suffered $2.7 billion in damage. Nepal requested $20 million, and, in a first, the fund’s board agreed in October to “provisionally set aside” $21.6 million, but that’s only the beginning of the paperwork.

5. Make decisions without everyone at the table

Decisions at the U.N. climate conference are taken by consensus, meaning they’re considered adopted when no country formally objects. This act is marked by the banging of a gavel.

At COP28 in Dubai, the conference president “gaveled through” a key decision before representatives of the Alliance of Small Island States had reached the room, meaning they had no chance to object. The lead negotiator for the islands’ group told the meeting that they would have objected, as they considered it too weak to keep warming to the agreed limit of 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 Fahrenheit) within reach.

In 2025, at COP30 in Belém, Brazil, a similar scene played out.

After swiftly gaveling through many decisions, the conference president failed to recognize Colombia’s request to speak until after the gavel had fallen. Colombia objected that the text of the formal decision failed to discuss a transition away from fossil fuels. The COP president later apologized but said the decision could not be reopened.

What to watch for at COP31

At COP31, my team and I will be watching for decisions about financial support, whether talk of technology crowds out reducing fossil fuel use, and who gets a voice.

Much of what matters at these conferences happens out of the spotlight. Plenary sessions, where decisions are formally adopted, are the part most people see. But the wording of those decisions is usually worked out in smaller rooms and closed-door huddles among a handful of delegations. Small delegations can’t staff every room, and some rooms are closed to observers.

My team will be tracking what happens, whose proposals survive, and what quietly drops out between drafts of the agreement text. We’ll also be paying attention to who, quietly or not, says “no.”

Ridwan Intisaar Mahbub, a graduate student in public diplomacy, and Richie Sanchez, an undergraduate student in environmental studies at USC, contributed research for this article.

Shannon Gibson, Professor (Teaching) of Environmental Studies, Political Science and International Relations, USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

A new report suggests this year, carbon emissions may begin to trend downward for the first time.

But it’s important to take this with a grain of salt. While news reports have hailed this event, it will take years to confirm it wasn’t just a blip caused by the US-Iran war.

Carbon emissions are produced by the burning of coal, gas and oil in power stations, factories, vehicles and heating systems across the globe. To avoid the most dangerous consequences of climate change, the world must reach net zero emissions by mid-century. Worryingly, research shows CO₂ emissions have been on an upward trajectory for most of the industrial age, with 50% of all emissions produced since 1990.

But a new report offers some hope.

The Global Carbon Project collects data on fossil fuel emissions, as well as how much carbon is being absorbed and released by oceans, forests, grasslands and soils. This week it published its 2026 report, just as world leaders are gathering in Turkey, also known as Türkiye, for the COP31 climate conference.

It’s a momentous read if its central finding – that CO₂ emissions are now on the decline – proves true. After all, similar claims were made back in 2024.

A potential peak

The new report shows emissions from fossil fuels are set to fall slightly, from 38.4 gigatonnes (Gt) in 2025 to a projected 38.2 Gt. That’s a very modest decrease of 0.4%.

There are several reasons for this drop.

Conflicts

One key factor is the ongoing energy crisis, triggered by the wars in the Middle East and Ukraine.

Both conflicts have disrupted a significant portion of the world’s energy supply, in particular oil. Crude oil prices have surged from around US$60 (A$87) a barrel at the start of 2026 to the current figure of US$100 (A$145) a barrel.

In Australia, the average cost of petrol increased from 175 cents per litre to about 240c/L in October, and diesel prices from 186c/L to around 280c/L. Even at the low end of these prices, running an electric vehicle would save a typical Australian driver roughly A$2000 each year.

Cars

High oil prices are accelerating the uptake of EVs. A quarter of new cars sold in Australia in 2026 were fully electric. That’s quite a turnaround for Australia, which was an EV laggard compared to the rest of the world.

This trend is very likely to continue as the barriers to buying EVs – such as cost, range and charging infrastructure – are being overcome. Even if petrol and diesel prices return to pre-Iran war levels, EVs will likely be the preferred choice.

China

China is the world’s biggest fossil fuel emitter. Historically, China’s emissions have largely come from coal-fired power stations. But over the past few years, the country’s fossil fuel emissions have plateaued and even begun to slide as China installs wind, solar and hydropower infrastructure at a world-leading rate. In the first half of 2026, less than 50% of China’s electricity came from coal, putting it well on track to meet its net zero by 2060 target. This downward trend could make a major dent in global emissions.

Not the first time

It’s worth noting, global CO₂ emissions from fossil fuels have dropped several other times in history.

In the 1970s, the influential Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) reduced oil production and cut exports to countries that supported Israel in the 1973 Yom Kippur War. The consequent oil shocks of the 1970s and 80s saw oil prices quadruple within months, triggering fuel rationing and economic chaos in major oil-consuming nations.

Global emissions also fell sharply after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Most recently, fossil fuel emissions dropped during the 2008 Global Financial Crisis and COVID pandemic. Both were major disruptions to the international economy that slowed travel, industrial production and general growth, leading to reduced fossil fuel emissions.

In each case, fossil fuel emissions returned to even higher levels once the economy recovered.

More work ahead

So assuming the current fuel crisis eases, will fossil emissions simply start to increase again?

It’s difficult to know for sure. It depends what policies and actions various countries put in place. For example, fossil fuel-driven economic growth in developing countries could offset the emission reductions in countries embracing renewables.

However, what’s certain is the world must keep working to curb fossil fuel emissions.

Take Australia, for instance. Data from the National Greenhouse Gas Inventory show our fossil emissions have slightly decreased since their peak of 415 megatonnes of CO₂ in 2017 to the present value of 374 megatonnes. This is almost entirely due to emissions reductions in the electricity sector, as wind and solar gradually replace coal-fired power stations.

Meanwhile, stationary energy – which includes burning coal and gas to heat buildings and run factories – has remained stagnant. In the case of transport, emissions have even increased between 2017 and now. This is because more fossil fuel-powered cars and trucks have hit the road in recent years, despite significant EV uptake.

On a global level, our oceans and terrestrial ecosystems – such as forests, grasslands and tundra – are increasingly under pressure from climate change. These systems absorb roughly half of the carbon we emit, but warmer seawater and heat- or water-stressed plants store carbon less efficiently.

So the future of our oceans, forests and entire planet depends on whether we meaningfully and rapidly reduce global emissions.

Roger Dargaville, Assoc Prof. Renewable Energy, Monash University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

World leaders meeting at the annual U.N. climate summit in November 2026 are wrestling with a persistent challenge: how to get countries to follow through on their commitments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions that are warming the planet.

One of the biggest problems has long been fossil fuel power plants, but new research shows that one type of power plant in particular has been slowest to change: those owned by the very governments making the promises and writing the laws.

My colleagues and I examined carbon dioxide emissions from thousands of fossil-fueled power plants across 134 countries. What we found reveals an important hurdle to achieving the world’s goals for keeping climate change in check.

Although countries have adopted a variety of pricing, regulatory and subsidy measures designed to curb the emissions of the electricity sector, the effectiveness of these climate policies depends on utilities responding to them.

We found that power plants owned by governments had the highest emissions as a group and didn’t cut their emissions as quickly as investor-owned facilities did in response to most policies. That does not necessarily mean they are violating policy requirements, but they were slower to move.

This matters because governments control nearly two-thirds of the world’s electricity-generating capacity.

The results suggest that to limit global warming, governments need to do more than just enact climate policies – they need to ensure that all plants translate those policies into meaningful emissions cuts.

Who owns the plants matters for climate policy

Of the 13,661 power plants that my colleagues Minh Anh Ly and Musabber Ali Chisty and I studied, 5,149 were government-owned – about 38% of them.

But those government-owned plants were responsible for 69% of the carbon emissions, based on the plants we reviewed. Together, power plants are the largest source of climate-warming carbon pollution globally.

On average, we found that government-owned power plants emitted roughly 910,000 metric tons of carbon dioxide annually – three times the average of 290,000 tons for investor-owned plants and over eight times the average of 109,000 for cooperatively owned plants.

Part of the reason for the difference is that governments often invest in large power plants that burn the dirtiest fuel – coal.

However, we also compared the plants’ emissions in 2018 to their emissions a decade earlier and looked at different national policies that were applied over that time. We found some interesting results.

Several policies were statistically associated with investor-owned power plants cutting their emissions from 2009 to 2018, including:

• Pricing policies such as carbon taxes that charge companies for emissions released and emission trading systems that set limits that tighten over time.

• Fossil fuel subsidy reforms that cut federal support for using fossil fuels.

• Regulation policies like air pollution standards and banning and phasing out coal plants.

• Renewable portfolio standards that require utilities to expand their use of renewable energy.

• Subsidy policies that increase renewable energy use.

But when it came to government-owned power plants, only renewable portfolio standards were associated with significant emissions cuts. The other policies had little effect on their emissions.

These differences also appeared when we examined the stringency of policies, meaning how demanding the policy is, and the amount of time utilities have had to adjust to the policies.

Why governments struggle to clean up

So, what might explain why government-owned utilities respond differently?

Government ownership creates competing pressures that other plants are less subject to. For example, state-owned utilities may be expected to provide affordable electricity, support job growth and generate tax revenue for governments. In countries dependent on payments from companies that extract fossil fuels, utilities may also face political pressure to keep coal and gas facilities operating.

South Africa’s state-owned utility, Eskom, is a prime example. It runs a fleet of aging coal-fired power plants that make it the country’s biggest polluter. But it also provides about 90% of South Africa’s power, and when the country has faced power shortages, it has at times violated emissions standards. Despite years of climate talks, Eskom’s emissions fell little in the 2010s. They have fallen about 16% since 2019, in part due to power outages and more people relying on home solar.

The extra pressure may make it harder for government-owned power plants to reduce their emissions than for private utilities that are accountable to fewer stakeholders and can respond more directly to financial incentives to shift toward cleaner production.

There is also a potential conflict when the same government both regulates and owns a utility. Officials may be reluctant to impose costs that could raise electricity prices or require public subsidies. Our study did not measure enforcement, so we couldn’t establish that publicly owned facilities receive special treatment or disregard legal requirements.

What world leaders can do differently

Our findings suggest that in addition to persuading governments to adopt and enforce more ambitious climate policies, negotiators at the U.N. climate talks will need to get governments to ensure that the power plants they own actually respond to those policies.

Here are three ways governments could do more to get their own power plants to cut emissions.

• Governments could follow the example of Ireland and establish emissions-reductions targets specifically for publicly owned utilities and tie managers’ performance reviews, investment approvals and public reporting to measurable progress. Targets are more likely to get attention when managers are held accountable for meeting them. Ireland’s emissions from electricity production fell by more than a quarter from 2019, when it added emissions-reduction targets, to 2025.

• They could also do more to address the financial and political constraints their utilities face. In Morocco, for example, international financing helped a state-owned agency expand solar power while limiting costs to electricity consumers. Similar measures, combined with assistance for communities affected by coal-plant closures, could make emissions reductions more feasible.

• And governments could pay closer attention to emissions of individual plants as opposed to power sectors as a whole. Publishing comparable annual plant-level emissions and flagging facilities with persistently high pollution would reveal whether sector-wide gains are masking a lack of progress at specific plants.

None of this is to suggest that privatization is the answer to climate change. Government-owned power plants offer special advantages, like coordinating long-term investment and providing reliable electricity in underserved areas. The data shows, however, that for governments to meet their obligations, they need to look closely at their own plants’ emissions, as well.

Don Grant, Professor of Sociology, University of Colorado Boulder

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

This week, around 80 world leaders – including Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese – will descend on the coastal Turkish city of Antalya for the annual United Nations climate summit, COP31. For the first time, the summit duties will be shared; Turkey will play host, while Australia leads negotiations.

At home, these national leaders have no shortage of issues to contend with: the challenges of AI, major wars and declining trust in democracy. Yet looming over all of them is the existential threat posed by a heating planet.

Climate change is a truly global challenge. Greenhouse gases have no respect for national boundaries, and the devastating impacts are being felt everywhere. We don’t have a world government, but we do have processes of international diplomacy to hammer out shared commitments. This is how the world is trying to deal with the climate crisis.

It can be easy to be pessimistic, but COP31 can still deliver real progress. In Antalya, countries will consider a global electrification target to hasten the shift from coal, oil and gas toward clean electricity.

If agreement can be found, this will be a major step forward.

Remind me, what is a COP?

When scientific consensus emerged on global warming in the 1980s, countries negotiated and signed a new framework on climate change in Rio De Janeiro in 1992.

Since then, diplomats and negotiators have met annually for the UN’s Conference of Parties (COP) to discuss how to address dangerous human-made climate change. These talks have become huge, attended by tens of thousands of delegates every year. This year, the 31st COP is being held in Antalya, Turkey.

After three decades of climate talks, countries are turning the tide on emissions. Many are transitioning away from fossil fuels, if not at the speed required. Overall, global emissions held roughly flat in 2025, though lower wildfire and land-use emissions masked continued growth from fossil fuels.

Yes, the annual UN climate talks are beset by challenges. The United States has withdrawn completely. Countries are not on track to limit warming to agreed levels. Governments can’t even agree when to release the next report on global warming to guide negotiations.

In some ways it’s a miracle these talks achieve anything. Agreements must be reached by consensus and endorsed by 190-plus countries, from petro-states in the Middle East to vulnerable island nations in the Pacific.

Consensus is both strength and weakness. When agreements are reached, they have great legitimacy. The 2015 Paris Agreement came after two decades of hard-fought negotiations. The agreement was a monumental achievement.

But consensus also means COP decisions tend to be “lowest-common-denominator” outcomes, representing incremental progress. Again and again, politics and diplomacy fall short of what the science says is required. Still, if we take a long view, we can see the UN climate talks have helped avoid the most catastrophic global warming and are transforming economies.

How the Paris Agreement is working

At the heart of the Paris Agreement is the goal of limiting warming to 1.5°C above the long-term average. This requires the global economy to get to net-zero emissions by the middle of this century. To get there, countries agreed to set emissions targets and increase these every five years. While these targets are slowly cutting emissions and limiting warming they are still clearly insufficient.

Before the Paris Agreement, the world was on track for a cataclysmic 4°C degrees of warming this century. The first wave of emissions targets brought this below 3°C. The 2025 round of targets suggests countries may limit warming to 2.6°C.

Every fraction of a degree matters. With more ambitious policies, we could theoretically still peak warming at 1.8C and return below 1.5°C later this century through investment in carbon dioxide removal. However, this would take a radical step-change in ambition.

Since Paris, more than 130 countries have set long-term targets to achieve net-zero emissions. Countries have begun to signal the end of the fossil fuel era. At COP26 in Glasgow in 2021, countries agreed to “phase down coal”. At COP28 in Dubai in 2023 they agreed to “transition away from fossil fuels”. The task now is to make good on these promises.

Taken together, COP commitments act as a market signal. This year, global investment in clean energy hit A$3.2 trillion – twice as much as investment in coal, oil and gas. Renewables also overtook coal as the world’s biggest source of electricity.

A new age of electricity

For COP31, there is a push for an electrification target of “35 by 35”. Both Turkey and Australia are pressing for a global commitment to increase the share of the energy delivered to consumers by electricity, from just over 20% today to 35% by 2035. It sounds wonkish, but could usher in a new age of electricity.

A shift to electric vehicles, electric heating and cooling, and modernised heavy industry will cut emissions while slashing global fossil fuel import bills by $720 billion each year. An electrification target may also be easier to land than agreement to phase out fossil fuels.

Ironically, given his support for the oil industry, US president Donald Trump has made perhaps the clearest case for electrification. The US war on Iran has triggered the largest disruption of oil supply in history. Demand for clean energy technologies is surging as countries seek alternatives to volatile fossil fuel imports.

The exact form of an electrification target at COP31 will be subject to intense negotiations. Australian climate minister Chris Bowen will have his task cut out for him as chief negotiator.

In itself, COP31 can’t deliver a silver bullet for climate action. But if it reinforces international cooperation and moves the dial forward on global electrification, hope remains.

Wesley Morgan, Research Associate, Institute for Climate Risk and Response, UNSW

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

A remarkably strong El Niño has formed in the Pacific.

This natural phenomenon drives variations in temperature, rainfall and winds across the globe. The ongoing El Niño has already contributed to sudden floods in eastern Africa, blistering heatwaves in Europe and intense hurricanes in the eastern Pacific.

Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology warned us of this El Niño in June, which is currently the earliest point at which reliable predictions can be made.

Our new study suggests it may be possible to accurately predict some El Niños up to 12 months ahead of time, buying valuable time for farmers, emergency services and disaster-prone communities.

How models predict El Niño and La Niña

Climate and weather forecasting largely relies on physics-based models of the Earth’s atmosphere and oceans. These models work by applying the laws of physics, such as Newton’s laws of motion, to Earth’s geography.

A model is given information like the shapes of continents, the locations of mountains and the speed of Earth’s rotation. The models then solve equations representing the laws of physics to simulate a version of our Earth, complete with its own storms, ocean currents, waves and wind patterns.

To make predictions of El Niños and La Niñas, forecasters supply these models with information about present conditions, including ocean temperatures, currents, winds and humidity. This data comes from a vast global network of satellites, weather stations, ocean buoys and moorings.

The models use this information about the present as a starting point. They then simulate the ocean and atmosphere’s movements and temperatures a few months into the future, showing whether an El Niño or La Niña is about to emerge.

Why is it difficult to make early forecasts?

In the 1960s, meteorologist Ed Lorenz and computer scientist Margaret Hamilton made a startling discovery. Using an early weather model, they found changing the starting conditions by a tiny amount, such as a millionth of a degree Celsius, could radically alter the model’s predictions.

This spawned the mathematical field of chaos theory, the idea that no matter how perfect a model is, there are some situations where the system being predicted is so sensitive to minuscule changes, it’s almost impossible to make correct predictions. This makes it extremely difficult to form accurate forecasts of weather more than a week or two in advance.

El Niños and La Niñas are largely shaped by the ocean, which moves much more slowly and takes longer to heat up and cool down, compared to the atmosphere. As a result, El Niño and La Niña predictions can be made over a longer period. These events typically peak around December and can be accurately predicted about six months ahead.

But these predictions also have limits. Forecasts made between March and May are notoriously unreliable. Because of the conditions in the atmosphere and ocean at this time of year, it becomes susceptible to the butterfly effect, with even small fluctuations preventing models from making accurate predictions. This period is like a Bermuda triangle for climate forecasting.

What we studied

Our latest study examined whether it’s possible to overcome this uncertainty to reliably predict future El Niños.

Chaotic systems are not unpredictable all the time. Sometimes the conditions are right for good predictions. A few studies of particular years suggest some El Niño and La Niña events might be accurately predicted before the March-May period.

But our research team wanted to know for sure if we should believe early forecasts. To do this, we used a massive dataset of 7,500 forecasts generated by nine models, developed in different countries. By analysing this data, we were able to check whether early predictions came true and search for patterns in early forecast performance.

Our findings suggest the conditions in which a forecast is made has a significant effect on its accuracy. We sorted forecasts based on what was happening in the Pacific when they were first initiated – La Niña, El Niño or neutral conditions.

A clear pattern emerged: forecasts that began during a La Niña were most successful in predicting what would happen a year later. By contrast, forecasts initiated in neutral conditions were very likely to be wrong.

These findings were consistent across all nine models we studied. This suggests La Niña conditions have a stabilising influence, meaning predictions are more likely to be reliable.

What next?

These findings are valuable for communities worldwide. During La Niña years, we have an opportunity to make early forecasts and issue early warnings so communities, emergency responders and governments can prepare for future El Niños.

However, we need more research to translate these findings into practice. Studies should focus on why La Niña events support better model performance and if there are particular ocean or atmosphere patterns that can tell us when a model is making correct predictions. Research should also investigate how best to apply these findings to interpreting real-time forecasts.

This information will allow scientists to distinguish between unreliable predictions and those that might protect communities from harm.

Nandini Ramesh, Senior Research Scientist, CSIRO and Mandy Freund, Lecturer, Climate Science Geography, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

To reduce climate emissions, the world needs clean electricity powering our industry, transport, homes, lighting and heating. However, much of the energy we use still comes directly from burning fossil fuels.

Cars burn petrol, gas heats buildings and industrial processes burn coal and gas. Currently, only 23% of global final energy demand – the energy that reaches the final user, such as households or factories – comes from electricity.

This week, at the UN climate summit COP31 in Turkey, there’s a strong focus on electrification. The COP presidency, which includes Australia’s climate and energy minister Chris Bowen and Turkey’s environment minister Murat Kurum, has launched a “35-by-35” electrification pledge. They want other countries to sign on. This would see 35% of global final energy use come from electrification by 2035.

This is significant, and goes beyond switching petrol cars for electric ones. Electrification changes how we use energy, replacing the direct use of fossil fuels across transport, buildings and industry with electricity, increasingly from renewables.

However, this pledge raises a number of questions. Is this target realistic? And where did the figure of 35% come from? My colleagues and I have published analysis that provides the answers.

Why 1.5°C remains crucial

The world has run out of time to limit global warming to 1.5°C without temporarily overshooting it. The latest climate scenarios suggest that even with decisive action to cut emissions, temperatures are likely to exceed 1.5°C for at least a decade.

The latest temperature scenarios show the best we can hope for is for warming to peak around 1.7°C in the 2040s, before returning to 1.5°C by 2100. This is known as “overshoot”.

The higher and longer temperatures remain above 1.5°C, the greater the risks to people and nature. Returning to 1.5°C also requires removing large amounts of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, something we can’t do yet at the necessary scale.

This makes the rapid reduction of emissions crucial. Rather than hoping future technologies will be able to undo the damage, we need to rely on those already available.

Why electrification matters

Electric technologies are more efficient than fossil-fuelled equivalents. An electric car converts more of its energy into movement than a petrol car. Heat pumps can deliver several units of heat for each unit of electricity consumed.

As electricity generation shifts to wind, solar and other low-emissions sources, the benefits flow into every part of the economy that uses electricity. Renewable energy reduces the emissions used to create electricity, while electrification creates more demand for renewables.

The new 35-by-35 target is intended to work alongside existing global commitments made at COP28 in Dubai three years ago; to triple renewable energy capacity and double energy efficiency by 2030.

Where does 35% come from?

Our analysis of the latest global climate scenarios finds 35% is not an arbitrary political ambition. In fact, it is the median level of electrification in climate scenarios that gives us the best remaining chance to return global warming to 1.5°C by the end of the century. The median average is the middle value in the data set.

To understand whether 35% is a credible target, we examined newly published global climate scenarios developed by the international climate modelling community.

Among these, we focused on ten pathways with the lowest levels of warming. These would peak at around 1.7°C or less, and return to 1.5°C or below by 2100.

Across all of these projections, electricity’s share of global final energy rises from around 23% in 2025 to a median of 28% in 2030, and 35% in 2035. This shows that to align with scenarios that limit warming to 1.5°C, electricity needs to supply about 35% of the energy we use by 2035. Our research sets out the evidence.

However, the world is not yet on track. Under existing global climate policies, the International Energy Agency (IEA) projects electricity will supply just under 30% of final energy by 2035.

Of course, the climate benefit is reduced if petrol, coal and gas use is replaced with electricity generated by fossil fuels. However, the good news is that new climate scenarios show how renewable energy and electrification can work together. As renewable electricity expands, it becomes more economically viable to switch transport, buildings and industry from fossil fuels to electricity.

We have what we need

Much of the necessary technology already exists. One in four new cars sold globally in 2025 was electric according to the IEA, and up to three-quarters of global energy demand could be electrified using existing technologies.

The challenge is getting these existing technologies – such as heat pumps and electric industrial equipment – deployed. We need greater investment in electricity grids and storage, policies that encourage households and businesses to switch from gas to electrical devices, and access to affordable finance, particularly in developing countries.

There are compelling economic and security reasons to make the shift. Countries reliant on imported oil and gas are exposed when international prices spike, as we saw this year in the US-Iran conflict. Domestic renewable electricity can reduce that dependence, while efficient electric technologies lower overall energy demand.

A collective commitment

Electricity must become cleaner – reducing emissions and air pollution – as demand grows. Fossil fuel use must rapidly decline.

The 35-by-35 target is one part of a larger transformation, alongside renewable energy and energy efficiency.

The COP31 talks provide an opportunity to turn this scientific benchmark into a collective commitment. The evidence is clear that the world needs to electrify faster. The question at COP31 this week is whether governments are prepared to put the policies, investment and cooperation in place to make it happen.

Anita Talberg, Honorary Fellow, Melbourne Climate Futures, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Reptiles are captivating creatures – so captivating that people keep them as pets, or wear clothes and carry handbags fashioned from their patterned skins.

At first glance, these practices may appear to be a major threat to reptile conservation. Every lizard, snake, turtle or crocodile taken for the pet or skin trade means one less reptile in the wild, right?

Actually, that’s far from the full story.

Our new research reveals the true impact of the commercial reptile trade – and why it may not be as worrying as we think.

Reptiles at risk

Globally, our ecosystems are rapidly becoming less rich and diverse. This has alarming consequences for the plants and animals that call them home – including reptiles.

In Australia, for instance, research shows the country’s most threatened reptiles and frogs are already disappearing, with their populations declining by 96% on average since 1985.

The reasons for this are many and complex, including habitat destruction, pesticide use, natural disasters, diseases, and invasive species such as cane toads and cats. However, human-induced climate change remains the foremost threat to wildlife worldwide.

What about the reptile trade?

You may have seen footage of people being arrested for smuggling reptiles, or harrowing images of wild animals being stuffed into shoes. These scenes may trigger feelings of anger, disgust, sadness or even shame. Coupled with strong regulation and enforcement, these emotions are key to combating illegal “wildlife crime”.

However, the vast majority of international trade in reptiles is legal and well-regulated, thanks to a series of traceability and on-the-ground monitoring systems.

More than meets the eye

Is the commercial reptile trade, both legal and illegal, actually threatening the world’s reptiles? To answer this question, we took a closer look at how reptile populations are faring.

First, we examined the trade in reptiles for leather. We collated data compiled by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and various government agencies and conservation organisations. The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) keeps a careful count of how many individual animals and skins are being traded worldwide. Those not counted on the list are governed by national quotas.

A group of IUCN reptile experts led by Timothy Colston, co-author of this article, trawled through reptile skin trade data collected between 2000 and 2020. These researchers found more than 70 million reptile skins traded over that period came from fewer than 50 species – mostly crocodiles, snakes and lizards. This is only a handful of the more than 10,000 known reptile species globally.

Most surprisingly, wild populations of the most heavily traded reptiles still appear to be healthy. This may be because these reptile species are ecological generalists, meaning they thrive in a range of habitats and typically have high reproductive rates. These species also benefit from sustained research and population management efforts.

What about pet reptiles?

We observed similar trends in the reptile pet trade.

In 2026, a team of Australian researchers assembled and analysed data on more than 340,000 live reptiles and amphibians, put up for sale by commercial traders in the United States and United Kingdom between 1989 to 2004. This period marked the heyday of hard-copy published pricelists, which were soon to be replaced by online reptile sales.

The researchers found those pricelists were dominated by a handful of docile, colourful species of lizards and snakes. The most popular were the kingsnake, cornsnake and python, alongside the Australian bearded dragon and leopard gecko. These species generally mature quickly, reproduce rapidly and adjust well to captivity.

These data reveal most pet reptiles are born or hatched in captivity, instead of being taken from the wild. Many pet owners prefer captive-born animals as they are less likely to be stressed or diseased. Captive breeding also produces more vividly coloured reptiles.

It’s worth noting, wild reptiles and amphibians are still taken – using legal and illegal methods – for the pet trade. However, our analysis suggests these activities have little impact on the health of wild populations.

The exception is the handful of species that are either restricted to small islands or have very slow rates of growth and reproduction, such as turtles. For such a species, removing even a few adult females can have a major impact on the slowly reproducing wild population.

Where to from here

Some people oppose the trading of wild animals on ethical and animal welfare grounds. However, our analysis suggests far fewer wild reptiles are traded than are run over by cars, harvested for traditional medicines or killed by habitat destruction, invasive pests, disease or climate change.

When it comes to protecting our wild reptiles, it’s tempting to direct our resources and attention to the most visible threats. For example, authorities may confiscate smuggled lizards at an airport, but arresting someone hiding a few common lizards does nothing to protect wild populations of that lizard species.

Likewise, banning a sustainable skin trade may actually hamper conservation efforts by fostering illegal trade and removing incentives for locals to protect certain animals.

Instead, we must shift our focus to curbing the persistent threats of global warming, invasive pests and habitat destruction. To protect our precious reptiles, we need to tackle the most urgent threats – not just those that grab our attention.

Rick Shine, Professor in Evolutionary Biology, Macquarie University; Daniel Natusch, Honorary Research Fellow, Macquarie University, and Timothy J. Colston, Associate Professor, Biology, University of Puerto Rico - Mayagüez

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Concrete is the most used human-made material on Earth. Billions of tonnes are produced every year.

Unfortunately, concrete is responsible for 5-8% of global carbon dioxide emissions. Concrete is typically made of sand, gravel and cement, the binding agent. The manufacturing of cement is the main reason why concrete is so high-emitting.

For two centuries, cement makers have relied on the Portland cement method. This requires heating limestone to about 1400°C in kilns. At these temperatures, limestone breaks down, releasing carbon dioxide. Kilns often run on coal or gas, which release even more CO₂ when burned.

Low-emissions concrete is entirely possible and it depends on substituting limestone cement with another binder. One of the best alternatives is geopolymer concrete, which often uses industrial byproducts. Emissions from geopolymers are up to 80% less than for Portland concrete. Australia has one of the largest geopolymer cement project in the world – Queensland’s Wellcamp Airport near Toowoomba, which used about 40,000 cubic metres of geopolymer cement.

But over a decade after the airport was built, geopolymer cement hasn’t taken off. Here’s why – and what we can do about it.

How do you make geopolymer concrete?

A polymer is a long molecule made up of repeating smaller chemical units. Geopolymers is the term for polymers made from minerals. They’re typically produced from mining byproducts such as clay or industrial byproducts such as fly ash and slag from blast furnaces. Alkaline chemicals such as sodium hydroxide are used as activators to convert these byproducts into a ceramic-like material able to bind together.

Australia produces about 10-15 million tonnes of fly ash a year – comparable to its annual cement consumption of about 11-12 million tonnes. Fly ash is challenging to dispose of and can become a major waste problem. Geopolymers offer a clever way to convert it into something valuable.

Australian companies such as Wagners (Queensland) and Zeobond (Victoria) started commercialising geopolymer cement in the 2000s. The 2014 construction of Wellcamp Airport by Wagners showed concrete without cement could be deployed at commercial scale.

So why hasn’t geopolymer scaled up?

Geopolymers have major advantages over traditional concrete. But there are major barriers to overcome.

One is a lack of long-term performance data. Cement concrete has 150 years of real-world evidence, while geopolymers have only been around since the 1980s. The construction industry can’t yet confidently guarantee or insure geopolymer structures.

Public infrastructure projects can help by trialling geopolymers and monitoring long-term performance. This would build the evidence base needed if the industry is to accept it.

In the meantime, there’s already enough evidence to show geopolymers are well suited for masonry, mortar, renders, plasters, paving and precast products.

Workability and handling is another challenge. Construction workers know how to handle cement-based concrete. But geopolymers have to be handled differently, as they can be corrosive until they set. This means they need extra safety measures and operator training. The way this concrete sets and hardens is also different to cement.

While Australia’s existing standards and operating procedures primarily focus on conventional concrete, geopolymer guidance has recently been released. More will need to be done to boost familiarity.

Variation in product quality is another major issue. Because geopolymers are often produced from industrial by-products, feedstock quality can vary significantly and give inconsistent results.

Fly ash is a good example. After coal is burned, it leaves this fine, powdery ash behind. But the ash itself differs depending on type of coal – brown coal (lignite) makes fly ash with more calcium while black coal (anthracite) produces ash with little calcium and more silica and alumina. These differences can lead to concrete with very different characteristics, from strength to setting time to durability.

Geopolymers can also be made from feedstocks such as mineral processing waste, which can give it useful properties such as resistance to acids.

For the industry to mature, it makes clear sense to classify geopolymers based on their precursor type. Kevlar and cling film are both made from plastic polymers, but it wouldn’t make sense to simply call them “polymers”.

Finding more feedstock options is sensible.

One final challenge is the local availability of feedstocks and chemical activators such as caustic soda and water glass (sodium silicate). Both of these can be produced in Australia, but supplies of fly ash depend on coal plants. As these retire, fly ash may become harder to source.

A chicken and egg problem

These technical challenges can be overcome. But large-scale adoption will mean overcoming a classic chicken-and-egg problem.

Concrete producers are reluctant to invest in large-scale geopolymer production if the demand isn’t there, while builders, developers and infrastructure firms are hesitant to rely on less familiar materials without established supply chains and a long-term history of performance.

Government procurement policies and demonstration projects could help solve the problem by creating early demand and building industry confidence.

Geopolymers are unlikely to replace cement any time soon. But as the construction industry seeks to reduce emissions, geopolymers have real promise.

With continued research, appropriate standards, targeted government support and stronger industry engagement, geopolymer concrete could play a significant role in Australia’s efforts to cut emissions, tackle industrial waste and make infrastructure more sustainable.

Mariam Darestani, Senior Lecturer in Mechanical Engineering, Western Sydney University; Bijan Markhali, Postdoctoral Fellow in Environmental & Materials Engineering, Western Sydney University; Kazem Javan, Doctoral Student in Environmental Engineering, Western Sydney University, and Pooja Kaur Chaggar, Researcher, Western Sydney University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The Sunday roast and the backyard barbecue have long been Australian rituals. The country is one of the world’s biggest consumers of red meat. The average Australian ate about 22 kilos of beef in 2024.

But there’s a question mark looming over the future.

Australia is already about 1.5°C warmer than it was in 1910, when national records began. About half of the country’s 30.8 million cows graze the rangelands and paddocks of the tropical and semi-arid north, where they spend every day outdoors.

Cattle are built to make heat, not lose it. As they ferment grass in their complicated stomachs, cows produce a steady stream of internal warmth. They also sweat less effectively than humans can. To offload heat, they pant, seek shade or wait for cool nights. British breeds from cool European climates are especially bad at shedding heat.

Heat stress is already a problem for cattle in Australia’s north. In our new research, we found dangerous levels of heat will arrive more often. That will pose particular problems for British cattle breeds from the Bos taurus subspecies. Tropical breeds such as Brahmans from the Bos indicus subspecies will be more resilient, but not immune.

Building more shade structures could protect cattle from much of the extra heat.

Months more dangerous heat

We used climate models to compare the 1990–2010 period with the heat levels expected by the 2050s and 2090s under both a low- and high-emissions futures. We mapped these conditions over the whole of northern Australia for both Bos indicus and Bos taurus breeds.

We used the Heat Load Index – which combines temperature, humidity, wind and sunshine – to estimate how much heat cattle are actually accumulating.

This index makes clear how much the breed of cattle matters. British breeds such as Angus and Hereford get into trouble at a heat load index value of 86.

But tropical breeds such as the Brahman can tolerate up to 96 without accumulating more heat than they can shed. Most northern graziers already rely on Brahman or Brahman-cross breeds.

For British breeds, days with dangerous levels of heat rise from 117 days at present to 143 by the 2050s (low emissions) to as high as 195 days a year by the 2090s (high emissions). These figures are averaged across the region.

In parts of the semi-arid interior, these cattle breeds would face dangerous heat on more than 300 days a year.

Brahman cattle cope better, but the number of dangerous heat days will rise from 17 to between 32 (low emissions) and 84 days a year (high emissions).

The effect will differ by region. At Dalby on Queensland’s Darling Downs, more than half the herd is comprised of British breeds. Dangerous days will climb from about 45 a year currently to 134 by the 2090s under a high-emissions scenario. Even with rapid emissions cuts, this figure will rise to about 70.

In the Barkly region in the Northern Territory’s east, tropical Brahman make up three in four cattle. But dangerous heat is coming for these hardy animals, too. Dangerous days will climb from the current 15 to 106 a year by the 2090s – roughly one day in three, under a high emissions scenario.

What does heat do to cattle?

Heat stress doesn’t often kill cattle outright. More often, the effects are cumulative – and costly.

Hot cattle eat less to reduce the heat caused by digestion. At an air temperature of 38°C, cows can eat 15–18% less feed. This means animals gain weight more slowly, take longer to reach market and become less fertile.

Dangerous heat above the British-breed danger threshold of 86 in the week before slaughter makes it more likely cattle will yield less-valuable “dark-cutting” beef.

After intense heat, cattle need cooler nights to recover. But nights are warming, too, adding to the strain.

What can graziers do?

Shade is vital.

Cattle can tolerate more ambient heat if they can wait out the hottest hours in good quality shade able to block 70% of sunlight.

Good shade would be enough to bring late-century heat exposure under a high emissions scenario roughly back to today’s unshaded levels for five of the six site and breed combinations we tested.

The catch is that providing this level of shade usually requires purpose-built structures, such as shade-cloth, near water points or open-sided sheds. Paddock trees don’t help as much. And no level of shade can avoid humidity and hot nights.

Graziers will have to think carefully about their choice of breed. Some producers are currently bringing more British breeds north, as these animals put on weight faster. Our results suggest this is risky, especially in the hottest regions.

Feedlot operations have already moved to build more shade structures, following a spate of cattle deaths.

Workers are at real risk

Dangerous heat affects workers, too. Mustering cattle on horseback is hard physical work. Under a high-emissions scenario, mustering during daytime hours in the Barkly region will become unsafe for 217 days a year, up from 134 at present.

Many Barkly cattle stations already start mustering at dawn to avoid the heat. By the 2090s under high emissions, even dawn musters would be unsafe on more days than full-day work is now.

Looking ahead

Northern Australia is no stranger to heat. But at some point, heat becomes intolerable. For the millions of cattle in the north – and the people who muster them – heat will become a defining pressure.

Cattle stations will have to build more shade structures and choose breeds able to handle heat better, as well as moving hard work to cooler hours.

Cutting emissions sharply could make the difference between a manageable problem and a serious blow to Australia’s most valuable farm export.

Rachel Taylor, Research Fellow in Climate Extremes and Adaptation, University of Southern Queensland

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Every autumn, from city centres to wetlands, starling murmurations attract crowds of spectators. Thousands of birds fill the sky, twisting and turning in extraordinary waves as the sun sets. An entire flock moves as one, creating shapes that shift and dissolve as quickly as they appear.

But Britain’s breeding starling population has declined dramatically over recent decades, while changes in climate, migration and habitats are reshaping the lives of many birds. Could these wider changes also be affecting murmurations? By repeating a major citizen-science survey we carried out 12 years ago, we’re hoping to find out whether these spectacular displays are changing in size, timing or location.

According to the British Trust for Ornithology, the UK’s breeding starling population declined by 61% between 1995 and 2024. This is part of a wider pattern of bird declines: the UK’s farmland bird population index has fallen by 62% since 1970, with intensification of farming playing a major role. But that doesn’t necessarily mean individual murmurations are becoming smaller. Changes in where birds gather, when they arrive and how they behave could all influence the displays we see each winter.

Climate change may also be playing a part in shifting patterns and timings of murmuration displays. Britain’s winter starling population includes large numbers of birds arriving from continental Europe. As winter conditions change, so might their migration patterns, potentially affecting the timing, location and size of murmurations. Changes in food availability and roosting habitat could also be important.

Our original citizen-science project began in 2014. Working with the Royal Society of Biology, we harnessed people power to record murmurations between 2014 and 2016. Volunteer citizen scientists submitted more than 3,000 observations, noting the size, duration and location of murmurations, plus the presence of any birds of prey. Observations from 23 countries provided an unusually large dataset.

Back then, our main question wasn’t whether murmurations were changing, but why they happened at all. Over the last 20 years, scientists have made considerable progress in understanding how thousands of birds coordinate their movements, with each responding to its neighbours to produce those extraordinary patterns. But why do starlings gather in such spectacular formations in the first place?

One explanation was that the displays helped attract birds to communal roosts, where gathering in large numbers might provide warmth. Another was that murmurations helped protect starlings from predators such as peregrine falcons and sparrowhawks. Moving together in a dense, constantly changing flock could make it harder for a predator to single out a specific bird, while providing more eyes to detect approaching danger.

Our findings, published in 2017, provided strong support for this predator avoidance explanation. Murmurations tended to be larger and last longer when predators were present, particularly when they approached or attacked the flock. Although we couldn’t establish cause and effect from these observations alone, the evidence suggested that avoiding predators was a major reason for these spectacular displays, with attracting birds to a warm communal roost on cold nights being a secondary factor.

Seasonal records

Our research also revealed a seasonal pattern in murmuration size and duration, with day length associated with how long displays lasted. Twelve years later, we are exploring whether those patterns have persisted, and whether the relationships between murmurations, predators and temperatures remain the same.

Once again, we’re asking the public to help. By recording where and when they see murmurations, how many birds are involved, how long the displays last and whether predators are present, observers can help us investigate whether this extraordinary behaviour is changing.

A starling murmuration isn’t just a feast for the eyes. As the birds sweep low overhead, you can hear the collective rush of thousands of wings. And there’s another sensory experience, too: a shower of starling droppings. Somehow, even that adds to the occasion, although we’d recommend taking an umbrella.

If you’re lucky enough to witness a murmuration this autumn or winter, take a moment to enjoy the spectacle and log what you see. Your observations could help reveal whether one of nature’s most extraordinary displays is changing.

Adam Hart, Professor of Conservation Ecology, University of Gloucestershire and Anne Goodenough, Professor of Applied Ecology, University of Gloucestershire

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Thousands of millions of people live near active volcanoes along the Pacific Ring of Fire. This belt of seismic and volcanic activity arcs around the Pacific Ocean from Aotearoa New Zealand and the Pacific Islands through to Japan, and the Pacific coast of North and South America.

We can’t precisely predict volcanic eruptions, but we can try to understand what triggers them. We monitor active volcanoes and try to interpret warning signs such as earthquakes. But we can also look deeper.

In our new research published in Nature Communications, we found that the most abundant crystal in Pacific Ring of Fire volcanoes, a mineral called plagioclase, takes a specific shape and chemistry shortly before eruption.

These tiny crystals that grow inside volcanoes reveal a common chemical fingerprint that could help identify when magma is ready to erupt.

Volcanoes hold complex histories

Magma is molten rock stored beneath a volcano. It’s made of liquid, crystals (minerals) and gases, such as water vapour. Large volumes of magma can remain stored quietly under volcanoes for days, months, even years. If nothing upsets this magma, it may eventually cool down underground and never see the light of day.

However, when a critical event disturbs its peace, the magma will travel to the surface, causing a volcanic eruption. When it reaches the surface, it’s known as lava.

Luckily, not all disruptions of magma are powerful enough to trigger volcanic eruptions. Knowing when this will happen is a challenge, but the good news is that volcanoes have a memory – they tend to repeat their eruptive behaviour.

This means that exploring the past history of a volcano gives us clues to better understand its future eruptive behaviour, and perhaps even forecast it.

But how can we explore the past of volcanoes?

When a volcano erupts, the magma carries different types of crystals from different depths beneath the surface. These depths can vary by several kilometres. Because the crystals grow from magma rising from Earth’s interior, they might hold clues about what happened beneath the volcano that caused eruption.

The challenge is to read these deep stories, and get to know what caused the eruption. In our research, we use a new approach to separate these different signals, using a superb magmatic crystal storyteller: plagioclase.

A chameleon crystal

Plagioclase is one of the most abundant minerals in volcanoes along the Pacific Ring of Fire. Like a chameleon, it changes its appearance and chemical composition as magma conditions shift. This means it can record the history of the volcano before it erupts, from deep within Earth to the surface.

Plagioclase chemistry is largely defined by the chemical elements calcium and sodium. If the temperature or water content of the magma increases, plagioclase will increase its calcium content in response.

If the temperature change is considerable, it might also dissolve part of the plagioclase before regrowing around it with a different composition. This produces what geologists call “crystal zoning”, which makes plagioclase look different under the microscope.

In contrast with other crystals we find in magma, plagioclase shapes can be immensely diverse. Isolating the chemical and textural signatures of this crystal can unveil the complex history of a volcano.

In our work, we investigated plagioclase crystals across different Pacific Ring of Fire volcanoes, discovering that the final changes recorded before eruption are remarkably similar worldwide.

A new way to explore volcanic records

We collected volcanic rocks across the Andean Mountains in South America to explore one of the most active regions of the Pacific Ring of Fire. These volcanoes take different forms. Some are active. Some last erupted three million years ago. Some have erupted several times, others just once.

We used microscopy to describe the different plagioclase crystals in these volcanoes. Then, we used a range of technologies including lasers to find out the chemistry of each plagioclase type. This allowed us to produce maps of the key elements the plagioclase crystals are made of.

We found that the tiniest plagioclase crystals, called “microcrysts”, which form just before eruption and directly from the final magma, share the same chemical composition across all volcanoes.

When we calculated the temperatures under which these plagioclase crystals grew, we found this unique signature means hotter magma was replenishing colder magma reservoirs. We found this not just in Andean volcanoes, but as a common feature across the Pacific Ring of Fire.

In contrast, we found that plagioclase crystals forming earlier than “microcrysts” with lower calcium contents reflect magma that can’t erupt – meaning it’s accumulating and cooling inside the Earth’s crust.

This non-eruptible magma is important because it can be a cradle for the accumulation of critical metals, such as copper. Also, it can only erupt in exceptional super-eruptions, such as the Yellowstone super volcano in the US.

Now, we are investigating if we can use plagioclase to identify specific magmas that can accumulate metals such as copper and gold, critical to renewable energy.

Our findings suggest that tiny versatile plagioclase crystals could become a powerful new tool to identify the potential for volcanic eruptions. Potentially, this could help us identify seemingly “quiet” volcanoes that might need a closer look.

Daniela Parra-Encalada, PhD Candidate, Geology, The University of Queensland and Teresa Ubide, ARC Future Fellow and Associate Professor in Igneous Petrology/Volcanology, The University of Queensland

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.