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How healthy are Australia’s ecosystems? To answer that, scientists need data. But Australia is huge – and the number of professional scientists is limited. That’s where citizen science can help.

Every winter, thousands of grey nomads take to the roads and head north. Families return to familiar campgrounds for school holidays. Bushwalkers move through forests and along coastlines. School students catch invertebrates in rivers to learn about waterway health.

Each of these groups – and many more – can collect data vital to conservation efforts. When a citizen scientist uploads a photo of a flower, frog or animal to a central repository such as iNaturalist and eBird, anyone can see it and the location, date and time it was observed.

Citizen science – public participation and collaboration in scientific research – is coming of age. Increasingly, professional scientists are partnering with citizen scientists – and making requests.

Australia faces rapid biodiversity loss, shifting species distributions and widespread ecological change. To respond, scientists and authorities need long-term, standardised monitoring. Professional scientists cannot achieve this alone. No wonder former Chief Scientist Ian Chubb called for grey nomads and others to lend a hand.

No longer a novelty

Old debates over the accuracy and reliability of the data are being drowned out by mounting evidence showing citizen scientists are providing high-quality information.

One of the most valuable things citizen scientists can do is make repeated observations of specific species at specific locations to complement national-scale monitoring. The best data comes from monitoring one location over time using consistent methods and posting data to public databases.

Here are three examples where professional and citizen scientists are working together.

Spotting rare orchids

More than 1,800 species of orchid grow in Australia – and many are found only here.

These remarkable flowering plants make up about 10% of the country’s plant species. Many are threatened by expansion of farming and urban areas.

One challenge for scientists is to understand where species are growing and correctly classify them. Many native orchid species look similar. If a rare species is classified as a common one, it could put the rare species at risk.

This is where initiatives such as Wild Orchid Watch come in.

When citizen scientists spot an orchid, they take photos and record details of when and where it was sighted. Orchid observations are repeated over time and species identifications are verified by ecologists in the iNaturalist platform. Citizen scientists also collect data on orchid numbers and time of flowering.

For regular orchid-spotter Adrian Uren, the process is rewarding. As he has written:

The challenge of finding these little jewels in the bush definitely appeals to me and it’s very rewarding when I find a new species or a spectacular patch of them.

Tracking threatened species

TERN Australia is the national ecosystem observatory. Scientists record changes to land ecosystems over time using field monitoring across 16 intensively monitored sites and more than 1,000 1-hectare plots around the country.

Despite these monitoring efforts, there are gaps in the data – both in place and time. Citizen scientists are helping fill these gaps by providing data from places, times and local scales not feasible for scientists to reach.

The Threatened Species Index commenced in 2016 as a way to track the abundance of Australia’s species in trouble. It relies heavily on thousands of citizen scientists, who collect species data consistently.

Without their work, we wouldn’t know threatened species populations have fallen almost 60% since 2000 – or that there are recent signs of improvement for some groups, though more long-term data is needed to confirm recovery. The Australian government now uses data from the index to evaluate conservation initiatives and report biodiversity trends.

Tracking the algal bloom

In March 2025, thousands of sea creatures started washing up dead on South Australian beaches. Underwater footage showed swathes of dead and dying marine life. The culprit turned out to be a mix of tiny, dangerous Karenia algae species. The bloom hasn’t completely disappeared, and has killed millions of marine animals.

As the devastation unfolded, citizen scientists responded by posting data and images of affected species to iNaturalist and responding to requests for help from scientists and organisations such as OzFish. The result was a living repository of data helping track the spread.

Calling for reinforcements

Scientists, authorities and regulators are requesting more and more support from the public.

Increasingly, we’re seeing requests for data on specific plants, animals and fungi. There are broader requests too, such as data on ecosystems or environmental disasters, from hard-to-reach locations or during critical seasonal windows.

Examples include: FrogWatch SA, Fungi for Function, Waterwatch Victoria, Waterwatch ACT, Ocean Connect, MangroveWatch, Coastsnap, eBird and Where? Where? Wedgie!.

For some citizen scientists, a big drawcard is being able to interact with experts to identify species. Projects co-designed by professional and citizen scientists are likely to become more popular.

There’s more work to be done to link popular citizen science apps with national databases such as the Atlas of Living Australia and TERN’s Data Discovery Portal – and ensuring data is recorded in useful ways.

The more citizen scientists, the better. When enough interested people get outdoors with a smartphone, they can collect vital data and help authorities respond to environmental changes.

Katie Irvine, TERN Surveillance Communication Lead, Adelaide University and Ben Sparrow, Associate Professor and Director - TERN Ecosystem Surveillance, Adelaide University

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

Every year, billions of migratory birds connect the world’s continents, oceans and ecosystems as they undertake epic journeys between their foraging habitats and their breeding grounds.

A bobolink (Dolichonyx oryzivorus) leaves its breeding grasslands of North America for the Pampas of South America. A Newell’s shearwater (Puffinus newelli) spends months soaring across the North Pacific before returning to the Hawaiian Islands to breed. A spoon-billed sandpiper (Calidris pygmaea) travels from Arctic Russia to the rapidly disappearing tidal mudflats of Southeast Asia for its nonbreeding season.

These birds could hardly be more different. They occupy different habitats, follow different migratory routes and face different threats. Yet they share one remarkable characteristic: Their survival depends on networks of habitats stretching across thousands of miles and multiple countries.

Today, all three species and many others are in trouble. Their migrations remain among nature’s greatest spectacles, but the birds themselves are increasingly at risk as the habitats and ecological connections they depend upon are lost or degraded and threats to their survival and ability to reproduce increase.

We study migratory birds as scientists. With an international group of colleagues, we just published a comprehensive assessment of the status, threats and conservation efforts involving more than 3,380 of Earth’s migratory bird species.

The results are sobering. We found that more than half of the world’s migratory bird species are declining because of an array of threats, including habitat loss, invasive species that harm birds, collisions with buildings, hunting, the pet trade, toxic pesticides and, in some cases, being caught in commercial fishing nets.

But our study offers a second conclusion with more hope. The science around migratory birds has changed dramatically over the past two decades, and conservation can help save these incredible species – if governments act before they become endangered.

Protecting birds across their epic journeys

If migratory bird conservation is refocused on the birds’ full annual cycles, it can protect birds and their habitats throughout the year, from their breeding grounds to their nonbreeding homes and their migratory routes in between.

This approach combines protecting and restoring important places, reducing threats wherever they occur. It also relies on international cooperation and proactive conservation led by engaged governments before species become endangered.

Migratory birds are far more than remarkable travelers. They pollinate plants, disperse seeds, control agricultural pests, transport nutrients between ecosystems and support local economies by drawing birdwatchers and ecotourism. Their declines are not simply a loss of biodiversity; they signal a growing breakdown in ecosystems that sustain both wildlife and people.

The encouraging news is that humans have never been better equipped to reverse these species’ declines.

Miniature tracking devices, genetics, automated radio telemetry networks, long-term monitoring and citizen-science initiatives such as eBird that document species numbers around the world have transformed knowledge of migratory birds’ habits and the risks they face.

For the first time, scientists can follow individual birds across continents and determine where conservation actions will have the greatest impact.

A new strategy

For much of the past century, migratory bird conservation focused on protecting important places, such as the breeding grounds, wetlands, nonbreeding habitats and migration stopover sites birds depend upon.

That strategy has been enormously successful and remains indispensable. Protected areas have prevented countless extinctions and will continue to be a cornerstone of biodiversity conservation.

But research has revealed something equally important: Protecting places, while essential, is often not enough to conserve species whose lives unfold across continents and oceans. It’s also important to understand where and when populations are most at risk and address those constraints across the birds’ entire annual cycle.

The three species that opened this story illustrate why.

Bobolinks breed across North American grasslands but spend much of the year in South America. Conserving breeding habitat alone cannot reverse their declines if grasslands continue to disappear or if birds are poisoned by pesticides.

Newell’s shearwaters spend most of their lives over the Pacific Ocean but return to Hawaii to breed, where artificial lights, collisions with power lines, and introduced predators such as domestic cats threaten already vulnerable populations.

Critically endangered spoon-billed sandpipers depend on a shrinking network of tidal mudflats that serve as stopover sites between their breeding grounds on Russia’s Chukotka Peninsula and their nonbreeding areas in Southeast Asia. Losing even a handful of these staging areas can jeopardize one of the world’s rarest migratory birds.

Each species requires a different conservation strategy, but all require the same way of thinking: conserving their entire annual cycle rather than focusing on a single place, season or threat.

Fortunately, this approach is already starting to take hold in the United States and demonstrates what is possible.

What success can look like

Road to Recovery is an international initiative designed to reverse the losses of North America’s fastest-declining bird species before they require protection under U.S. endangered species legislation.

Rather than waiting for populations to collapse, Road to Recovery brings together scientists, governments, conservation organizations, landowners and local communities to form species working groups. These groups help identify the harms bird populations are facing and how to be more surgical in where limited conservation dollars are invested.

Today, more than 50 international working groups are developing conservation strategies for species including bobolinks and lesser yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes) to evening grosbeaks (Coccothraustes vespertinus) and yellow-billed cuckoos (Coccyzus americanus). Their work has already led to new research, habitat protection, policy changes, hunting reforms and international partnerships.

International agreements such as the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, along with regional flyway partnerships and treaties, provide ways for nations to work together to conserve migratory species across political boundaries.

However, the convention’s effectiveness is severely hindered when many of the world’s largest, wealthiest and most influential countries have not signed on to it. That includes the United States, Canada, Mexico, Russia and Japan.

Broader international participation and sustained investment from governments can help translate scientific knowledge into coordinated conservation action across the full annual cycle.

But governments cannot do it alone. Landowners, businesses, conservation organizations and individuals all have roles to play. They can help protect and restore habitat and reduce threats, such as free-ranging cats and collisions with buildings. They can support bird-friendly policies and participate in citizen-science programs that help track migratory bird populations.

Applying these lessons

There is every reason for hope.

Around the world, conservation initiatives repeatedly demonstrate that when threats are identified and addressed, bird populations recover. The pesticide DDT almost caused the extinction of species such as the bald eagle, peregrine falcon and osprey, but humans stepped in, banned its use, and all species recovered.

The challenge now is applying what science has found.

Next spring, bobolinks will once again return to North America’s grasslands. Newell’s shearwaters will navigate thousands of miles of open ocean back to Hawaii. Spoon-billed sandpipers will once again attempt one of the world’s most extraordinary migrations.

Whether future generations can continue to see these magnificent migrations will depend on the choices of current generations and the steps they take to save them.

Peter P. Marra, Dean of The Earth Commons, Professor of Biology and the Environment, Georgetown University and Nathan W. Cooper, Research Ecologist, Smithsonian Institution

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

Scuba diving is often presented as a success story for marine ecotourism.

Each year millions of people dive beneath the surface to experience coral reefs first-hand. Scuba diving generates income for coastal communities and helps people understand why coral reefs matter.

But that success also brings a conservation challenge. It brings tourists into direct contact with sensitive coral ecosystems, where a misplaced fin, hand or camera can add to the stresses reefs already face. At a time when reefs are severely threatened, understanding how divers might help, or harm, those ecosystems has never been more important.

Between us, we have spent thousands of hours underwater as both dive professionals and marine scientists. In this time, we realised something uncomfortable: even people who admire and value coral reefs can unintentionally contribute to their decline through their actions underwater.

That observation led us to ask a simple question: how much impact are divers actually having on coral reefs underwater – and do they realise it?

For our research, we followed hundreds of recreational scuba divers, carefully documenting their behaviour underwater. We then surveyed those same divers afterwards to compare what they thought they had done, with what had actually happened.

We spent hundreds of hours following, observing, and surveying 732 scuba divers across world-famous dive destinations in Indonesia and the Philippines. We recorded every time a diver touched the reef and what was happening at that moment. The results surprised us.

Divers touched or hit the reef, on average, about once every four minutes. More than 40% of those contacts caused visible damage, including broken corals or sediment deposited onto living coral. Perhaps most striking, we found that most damaging contacts were accidental and often went entirely unnoticed.

Divers in our study also expressed strong environmental values, and many saw themselves as better than average at controlling buoyancy and avoiding reef contact. At least 69% of divers responding to our survey rated themselves “above average” in their ability to avoid intentional reef contacts, and 86% as “above average” in their ability to avoid accidental contacts.

But when we compared their survey responses with our underwater observations, divers underestimated how often they contacted the reef by almost fivefold. The divers making the most contacts also tended to be the most overconfident about their underwater performance.

This pattern is consistent with the Dunning-Kruger effect, a well-established psychological phenomenon in which people with lower skill levels are often least able to recognise their own limitations. For coral reefs, this creates a conservation problem: people may not change their behaviour if they do not realise they are part of the problem.

Influenced by others

Underwater behaviour was also surprisingly social. When one diver hit or touched the reef, nearby divers became more likely to do the same. This is an example of social contagion, where people unconsciously take behavioural cues from those around them. Underwater, the actions of other divers can subtly reshape what feels acceptable creating social norms that may be detrimental to coral reef ecosystems.

Seeing sharks, turtles, manta rays or other charismatic species, increased the likelihood of intentional, unintentional and damaging reef contacts. In other words, the moments that often inspire people to value coral reefs might also be the same moments in which those reefs are most vulnerable.

This means dive sites famous for abundant marine life require particularly careful management. Smaller group size and appropriate viewing distances could help reduce impacts, especially during peak encounter periods. Instructors and dive guides also have a crucial role to play, by modelling good behaviour and reminding divers that the best way to enjoy marine life is with space and respect.

The encouraging message is that effects of scuba diving on coral reefs are not inevitable. Better buoyancy training, clearer pre-dive briefings, post-dive feedback and stronger guide leadership could all help reduce reef contact. Equipment also matters. We found that the use of accessories such as underwater cameras, muck sticks (rods used by divers to stabilise themselves) and gloves was associated with more frequent reef contacts.

Some coral reef dive locations have implemented conservation rules restricting these items, although such measures can be unpopular within the diving community.

Eco-certification schemes that take a broader look at the impact of scuba diving and sustainability also offer a promising route for change. In our study, Green Fins certification (an international initiative to promote responsible marine tourism) was linked to fewer intentional reef contacts, particularly among higher-performing dive centres.

But certification alone is unlikely to solve the problem unless it helps create a wider shift in expectations across the industry. Understanding the psychology behind how people act underwater may be one of the most effective ways to help ensure that reef tourism supports conservation and helps relieve pressures on fragile ecosystems.

Ronan Roche, Lecturer, School of Ocean Sciences, Bangor University and Bing Lin, Postdoctoral Fellow in the Thriving Oceans Research Hub, School of Geosciences, University of Sydney

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

In late June, whale watchers in southwest Western Australia sounded the alarm. They had seen far fewer humpback whales at a time when they normally migrate up from the Southern Ocean to calve and feed. Numbers were 60% below normal.

A week later, birdwatchers spotted a “once in a lifetime event” as large numbers of rarely seen albatrosses and petrels appeared off Australia’s east coast, thousands of kilometres from their usual foraging grounds deep in the Southern Ocean. Many birds were in poor condition.

The sightings came just weeks after a dying migratory seabird was confirmed as Australia’s first case of highly pathogenic H5N1 bird flu.

These sightings raise troubling questions. Seabirds and marine mammals such as whales use ocean currents and weather to travel long distances to feeding and breeding grounds. If these species are changing their behaviour, it could be a sign of altered conditions in the Southern Ocean.

We know the world’s oceans are running very hot. Marine heatwaves can affect any part of the ocean – even frigid Antarctic regions. If species are used to water temperatures around 2–6°C, a sudden boost of a couple of degrees can upend ecosystems. If the heatwave lingers, the cumulative effect can be much bigger.

We don’t yet know for sure, as monitoring in the Southern Ocean is limited. But we know marine heatwaves can alter currents, weather conditions and prey availability.

Oceans running hot

Since February, a large and persistent marine heatwave has affected waters around Australia’s Heard Island and McDonald Islands, stretching as far south as the edge of Antartica’s sea ice. These remote islands are extraordinarily rich in life. But researchers have found their waters are exposed to damage from climate change.

The southern Tasman Sea has also endured a marine heatwave since at least April, likely due to the fact we are coming out of successive La Niñas.

Both areas of ocean are among the fastest-warming on the planet. The steady drumbeat of climate change can make marine heatwaves more severe, more frequent and longer-lasting.

It’s possible this marine heatwave is putting pressure on seabird and whale food supply. But there remain significant gaps in our knowledge.

One reason is that extreme events don’t occur very often. Given this, it’s worth looking at past events.

Devastation from ‘the Blob’

Between 2014 and 2016, the North Pacific Ocean was hit by an event scarier than any monster movie.

A huge, long-lasting and extreme marine heatwave stayed in place for many months. It became known as “the Blob”.

Water temperatures were between 2°C and 6°C above normal. While this may not seem like a drastic change, it led to widespread ecosystem disruption. At least 240 species were found outside their normal ranges – some further north than ever recorded.

It’s hard to overstate how extensive its effects were. Kelp forests disappeared. Millions of starfish dissolved into goo. Whales died. Seabirds starved. Toxic algal blooms appeared.

It’s possible reported falls in whale numbers and unusual sightings of seabirds might be linked to a smaller version of the Blob in the cold Southern Ocean.

We already know marine heatwaves can disrupt the feeding behaviour of marine predators such as little penguins in Tasmania.

Our research has shown marine heatwaves lead to significant shifts in the types of zooplankton – tiny floating animals – found in coastal seas off Tasmania. Zooplankton are important food sources for seabirds, whales and fish.

As early as 1997–98, researchers found warmer surface waters in the Southern Ocean made it harder for female Antarctic fur seals to find prey while raising their pups.

Deaths of pups and adults are becoming more common in the South Atlantic. The population has fallen by around 1.5 million in the 15 years to 2022. The species was once considered abundant. But it’s now has recently listed as endangered.

We don’t know what we don’t know

By studying past events, scientists now have a better understanding of how marine ecosystems respond to extreme events.

Even so, there’s a lot we don’t know. For example, we have strong evidence climate change is affecting Antarctic krill. But we still don’t fully understand how a particular marine heatwave affects these tiny crustaceans or how ocean predators such as whales and seabirds respond during such events.

In short, our knowledge of how extreme events affect ecosystems isn’t keeping pace with climate change.

For scientists to understand how vulnerable species respond to environmental triggers, we need to monitor key species over the long term, while tracking environmental conditions in breeding and foraging areas and their food sources.

This type of monitoring is expensive, time-consuming and challenging. It would require national coordination, international collaboration and sustained support. But if we want to understand what’s driving ecosystem changes affecting local and migratory species in our waters, it will be necessary.

Once up and running, these dynamic monitoring systems would help authorities respond quickly by, say, reducing or redirecting fishing boats if there’s a sudden drop in fish numbers. Monitoring would also show areas in need of better protection.

We know changes are taking place in these cold oceans. Fewer whales and rare seabird sightings are a warning sign. If we don’t have better monitoring, we will keep flying blind as global warming accelerates.

Mary-Anne Lea, Adjunct Senior Research Fellow in Marine/Polar Predator Ecology, University of Tasmania and Christopher Chapman, Senior Lecturer in Oceanography, UNSW

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

In the Torres Strait, sea levels are rising twice as fast as the global average.

Scientists predict several low-lying islands in the Torres Strait will be uninhabitable by 2050 if global warming continues on its current trajectory.

In 2021, two Torres Strait Islander elders, Uncle Pabai Pabai and Uncle Paul Kabai, filed the first-ever negligence case against the Australian government claiming failure to protect them from the damage done by climate change.

Both live on islands at direct risk from rising seas. Uncle Pabai lives on Boigu Island, whose highest point is just three metres above sea level. Uncle Paul lives on Saibai Island, which tops out at 1.7 metres. They claimed they would suffer cultural loss if forced to leave their island homes due to climate change, which would sever over 40,000 years of connection to Country.

The case was heard by a Federal Court judge, who found the government had no duty of care.

Late last year, the elders from the Guda Maluyligal nation filed an appeal. Australia’s full Federal Court will hear the appeal this week. If successful, the case could lead to the Australian government having to pay compensation for the loss of culture due to climate harms.

What was in the Federal Court decision?

In his findings on the Pabai case, Federal Court Justice Michael Wigney found the government didn’t have a duty of care.

Justice Wigney said setting emissions reductions targets is a core policy decision which lay beyond the court’s remit. He found it wasn’t open to him as a single judge to recognise loss of culture under negligence law for the first time.

However, the decision recognised the Torres Strait Islands and their inhabitants are “undoubtedly far more vulnerable to the impacts of climate change than other communities in Australia”.

The court also found the government failed to take the best available science into account when setting emissions targets in 2015, 2020 and 2021.

What does this appeal rest on?

Uncle Pabai and Uncle Paul appealed to the full Federal Court, meaning a panel of three justices will hear the case.

Their lawyer, Brett Spiegel, told the ABC the appeal would ask the full court to “take steps that the trial judge felt he was unable to.”

Uncles Pabai and Paul are arguing the government owes a duty of care to Torres Strait Islanders to take reasonable steps to protect them from the impacts of climate change. To date, this link has not been recognised in Australian law. Duty of care cases often focus on the legal responsibility of authorities or employers to avoid foreseeable harm to other people.

The Uncles claim the government breached this duty of care by failing to set emissions reductions targets in line with the best available science to keep warming below 1.5°C.

They say the government voluntarily signed the Paris Agreement, which outlines the 1.5°C target, and set domestic emissions cut targets as part of this. As such, the Uncles claim it’s appropriate for the court to review these actions.

In their written submissions, lawyers for the government argue the case involves core government policy, so it would be inappropriate for the court to find a duty of care due to the separation of powers. Even if government emissions reductions targets contributed to climate impacts in the Torres Strait, they argue the contribution is too small to be measurable. This would mean the government is not negligent.

Uncles Pabai and Paul will say the science is clear that all greenhouse gas emissions worsen global warming, and the government’s lack of action on emissions made a material contribution to climate change harms in the Torres Strait.

How can climate change threaten culture?

Uncles Pabai and Paul are concerned about losing their ability to practise their culture, known as Ailan Kastom (Island Custom). This includes cultural ceremonies, teaching culture, burying and mourning rituals and caring for sacred sites.

During the original case, Uncle Pabai gave evidence about the uninhabited sacred island of Warul Kawa, visited for millennia for hunting, fishing and ceremonies. If the island was lost, Uncle Pabai said Torres Strait Islanders would:

[lose] our spiritual connection to the ancestors […] It would be like losing our version of heaven.

At the appeal, the Uncles will argue the government has contributed to climate impacts on their islands and that it is liable in negligence for Torres Strait Islanders losing their ability to practise culture.

The government’s lawyers will argue losing Ailan Kastom is not compensable under negligence law.

Can the law address climate change?

It may be surprising to hear this appeal is effectively asking the full Federal Court to find a new type of duty of care and a new type of compensation for cultural loss.

But Australian law can and does evolve to address new challenges. The seminal Mabo case brought by Torres Strait Islander Eddie Mabo led to the recognition of land rights for Indigenous peoples.

Courts overseas have found governments have a duty of care to protect their people from climate change harms.

The appeal will be watched closely. Australia’s efforts on climate change are already under scrutiny as it prepares for its role leading negotiations at the COP31 United Nations climate talks in Turkey this year. Neighbouring Pacific Island nations face similar threats from sea level rise.

As climate damage worsens, we can expect to see more legal cases focused on the obligations of governments to keep their citizens safe from climate harms.

Maria Nawaz, Project Lead, Australian Climate Accountability Project at the UNSW Australian Human Rights Institute, UNSW

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

Since South Australia’s toxic algal bloom started to kill millions of marine organisms in March 2025, the media has been filled with images of dead and suffering coasts, plants and animals.

There have been countless reports of people experiencing health effects and pets suffering symptoms, from wheezing to gastrointestinal problems.

The bloom has been described by First Nations communities as “a profound cultural wound”. And it has continued for more than a year, ebbing and flowing in severity.

Even if people in SA avoid the beach, it is impossible to avoid the violence of the bloom. Distressing images are everywhere on social media and news feeds, with stories emphasising death, damage and human powerlessness. While there’s no easy fix for the bloom itself, addressing this unnecessary suffering is possible.

How media covers death and destruction in nature

This year, the ABC broadcast two investigations with upsetting content. One was about women’s health and the other an ecological disaster. Both episodes featured multiple scientific experts and tackled distressing material. One gave good warnings about upsetting content. The other did not. Comparing them illuminates an opportunity for positive change.

The Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Four Corners program aired Scarred, about medicine and women’s safety, in February. It released Toxic Tide, on the algal bloom, in March. These investigations reflected an inconsistent approach to audience safety.

The reporting in Scarred aligned closely with established ABC editorial policies and Australian Press Council guidelines. The episode opened with an explicit content warning, empowered victims and closed with support information, directing viewers to services.

The visual content throughout Scarred was reasonably neutral, focused on people, buildings, blurred scans, and mundane scenes such as a surgeon washing their hands.

This approach reflects a broader awareness: repeat exposure to traumatic events — visual or spoken — can trigger further harm.

Trauma awareness takes decades to build and formalise into practice. In the case of women’s safety, conversations in the early 2000s led to research and, eventually, an Australian Press Council Guideline in 2023.

The reporting in Toxic Tide was starkly different. Despite distressing content that included videos of dead and suffering animals and coastal ecosystems, there were no warnings. There was no support information at the conclusion of the report, and the episode ended pessimistically.

This approach isn’t unique to adult audiences. The Behind the News episode about the algal bloom, for audiences aged 8–13 years, followed a similar pattern. It presented ecosystem death and suffering without warning or support. It did conclude, at least, with hope.

How could media do it better?

Australian media professionals today have access to policies such as the Australian Press Council’s advisory on reporting family and domestic violence and the Mindframe national guidelines on safe reporting about mental health concerns.

These documents emphasise minimising harm, using language and imagery carefully, avoiding sensationalism, educating the audience and providing pathways to support. Yet the same materials are not available for reporting on distressing environmental news.

Disasters that affect our ecosystems can generate anxiety, grief and a sense of helplessness, which media reporting can amplify.

These effects accumulate when the event lasts months or years. This is even the case for people who have no direct contact with the original event.

Some level of public concern can promote action, something we have also found in our own work on algal blooms. But too much anxiety over a long period can be harmful, driving a range of psychological, behavioural, economic and physiological effects, including systemic stress and chronic inflammation.

How to strengthen environmental journalism

SA’s experience with the algal bloom suggests it’s time to extend the logic of existing media guidelines into the environmental domain. A dedicated framework for reporting on environmental disasters would not censor or dilute journalism. It would strengthen it.

Such guidelines could encourage upfront warnings about distressing content. They might include contextual framing that avoids fatalism. They should include support resources — not only crisis lines but educational resources, community services attuned to environmental anxiety, and opportunities for action.

Crucially, guidelines could prompt journalists to consider narrative balance: pairing exposure to harm with pathways for agency in response to environmental bad news. Without this, coverage risks tipping from information into overwhelm.

Whether the subject is violence against women, mental health, toxicity on our coasts, or perhaps now bird flu, we must ensure the duty of care to audiences keeps pace with the realities being reported.

Amy McLennan, Associate Professor, College of Systems and Society, Australian National University; Andrew Meares, Professor School of Cybernetics, and Jacqueline Stephens, Associate Professor in Public Health, Flinders University

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

Constant scratching, bumpy skin and tufts of lost fur.

Those are just some of the signs an animal has scabies, a severe and potentially fatal skin disease caused by tiny mites (Sarcoptes scabiei) that burrow into skin.

In humans, scabies most commonly presents as an itchy skin rash. Just this month, an outbreak of a highly infectious form of scabies shut down an entire hospital ward in the United Kingdom.

When this disease affects animals, it is called sarcoptic mange. Mange mites can infest 148 mammal species, including Australia’s much-loved bare-nosed wombat (Vombatus ursinus).

Early detection is key to treating affected animals. However, our new research reveals current diagnosis and treatment methods are not always up to scratch.

A debilitating disease

Sarcoptes scabiei mites infest animals by digging through layers of skin and creating a burrow, where they lay eggs and leave waste.

This triggers the skin’s immune system, causing skin to become red and itchy. It can also lead to rashes and flaky cracked skin, often referred to as crusted scabies.

In animals, mange spreads through direct contact, such as when animals socialise, mate or even fight. Mites may also move between animals that share burrows, dens or nests.

Animals with mange often scratch until their skin cracks, leaving them more exposed to bacterial infections. At that point, crusts can form around their ears and eyes that make it harder for them to see and hear. They can also rapidly lose weight and strength, and some ultimately die.

Which animals are most vulnerable?

Major mange outbreaks have decimated Spain’s Iberian ibex (Capra pyrenaica) population, as well as kit foxes (Vulpes macrotis) and black bears (Ursus americanus) in the United States.

In Australia, mange is worryingly widespread among bare-nosed wombats (Vombatus ursinus), with the disease affecting roughly 70% of the population. The disease also affects koalas (Phascolarctos cinereus), quenda or southern brown bandicoots (Isoodon fusciventer), red-necked wallabies (Notamacropus rufogriseus) and Tasmanian devils (Sarcophilus harrisii).

Overseas, severe mange outbreaks threaten to wipe out whole populations of vulnerable species. Examples include the critically endangered red-ruffed lemur (Varecia rubra) and the threatened reticulated giraffe (Giraffe reticulata), mountain gorilla (Gorilla beringei beringei) and cheetah (Acinonyx jubatus).

These populations tend to be small, isolated and less genetically diverse. They are also under threat from climate change. As a result, these animals tend to have weaker immune systems and are more susceptible to mange and other diseases.

What we studied and what we found

In our new study, we examined all the methods scientists have used to diagnose mange over the past 30 years. This allowed us to identify which techniques would be most effective in remote field settings.

These techniques can be separated into two broad categories.

Non-invasive

Non-invasive methods rely on observation, rather than catching or holding an animal. Scientists can observe animals using their eyes or with tools such as binoculars and camera traps. Infra-red cameras and spotlights are especially useful at night. However, diagnosing mange from a distance is difficult. An animal might seem healthy when observed through binoculars or camera traps. That’s because signs of mange aren’t obvious during the early or mild infection stage.

Invasive

Invasive methods require an animal to be physically restrained so scientists can collect and check skin samples for mange mites. This typically involves using a sterile surgical scalpel to scrape an animal’s skin. However, invasive methods can cause extreme stress to animals, and some only work in a specialised lab environment.

Of all the methods we studied, visual observation was the primary way scientists diagnosed mange in remote areas. It was widely used as a diagnostic tool in 141 of the 228 studies we analysed and in more than 25 countries worldwide, including Australia, Spain and the United States. This is because it is economical, easy to do and highly effective at diagnosing animals with severe mange infections. Skin scraping was the second most common method.

Our study shows non-invasive techniques such as spotlighting and setting camera traps provide a big picture view of how widespread mange is. For example, in Spain’s Alt Pirineu National Park, researchers examined the images from 86 randomly placed cameras to visually assess red foxes. They found a large proportion of foxes showed obvious mange lesions, suggesting the disease was widespread in that population.

However, lab-based techniques are more accurate. One study of bare-nosed wombats found examining skin scrapings led to more accurate mange diagnoses than visual observation alone.

Combining forces

We recommend researchers and conservation groups combine both approaches: start with non-invasive methods to check the overall health of a population and then, if needed, use invasive methods to test a handful of animals with signs of mange.

To support conservation efforts, we must also invest more in population health and monitoring. This includes citizen science projects such as WomSAT, which relies on public reports to track the size, health and activities of Australia’s wombat population.

Mange threatens the very survival of the bare-nosed wombat and other iconic species. But by combining effective diagnosis with proactive monitoring efforts, we can protect our wildlife from this debilitating disease.

Chandni Sengupta, PhD Candidate, Animal Science, Western Sydney University; Hayley Stannard, Associate Professor, Animal Anatomy and Physiology, Charles Sturt University, and Julie Old, Associate Professor in Biology, Zoology and Animal Science, Western Sydney University

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

What’s the best way to manage a forest? Australians have argued about this for decades. The debate is often framed as binary: do we protect forests entirely, or harvest trees to support local economies and communities?

The reality is more interesting, as our new research on a long-forgotten experiment in Victoria’s mountain ash forests reveals.

Since the 1970s, scientists and the public have questioned the use of clearfell logging – where all trees in a block of forest are cut down. Conservationists argued it destroys habitat for rare species and reduces the forests’ ecological value. Foresters said mountain ash is adapted to catastrophic bushfires, and clearfelling is the forestry equivalent.

The argument was heated and the polarisation unhelpful. But the underlying questions about the impacts of clearfelling, and how they compared to less intensive forestry options, remained unresolved.

A landmark experiment

In the mid-1980s, the Victorian government launched a major restructure of the timber industry, and invested today’s equivalent of A$26 million to explore alternatives to clearfelling. This would use silviculture, the branch of forestry that deals with establishing, growing and tending forests.

The Silvicultural Systems Project was established at two sites between 1987 and 1989: Tanjil Bren in Victoria’s Central Highlands, and Cabbage Tree Creek in East Gippsland.

It was a landmark experiment, comparing forest regeneration across the full range of silvicultural approaches. These included traditional clearfells (250–350 metres wide), small patch clearfells (50–140m wide), and heavy thinnings, where 50–70% of trees were cut. Extensive areas of unharvested forest were kept as benchmarks for comparison.

The forest at Tanjil Bren was dense mountain ash regrowth from the 1939 fires. Hundreds of survey plots were established and thousands of seedlings were monitored. By the early 2000s, the results were clear: mountain ash regenerated best on clearfell sites. Where tall canopy trees were retained or the cleared patches were small, common understory species such as acacia dominated.

The findings were published. The access road grew over. The project sign collapsed. The experiment was forgotten. The debates continued.

But the trees kept growing.

Astounding results

In 2014 we visited the Tanjil Bren site as part of a University of Melbourne subject on silviculture in native forests. A colleague, Simon Murphy, had been involved in its establishment and suggested our students see the long-term outcomes of different silvicultural systems side-by-side. What we found was astounding.

The original results still held: 30 years later, the mountain ash in the large cleared patches and clearfelled areas was vigorous and abundant. But it was the heavily thinned parts of the forest that really caught our attention.

The trees left behind after thinning were enormous. While they were only 80 years old, the largest averaged well over a metre in diameter at chest height, and some were more than 1.5m. Thinning had given these trees more space and resources to grow, and they had responded dramatically. The largest trees in the thinned stands were 20% bigger in diameter than those in the unharvested control areas.

More remarkable still: the thinned stands of trees had stored as much or more carbon in their wood than the unharvested control areas. In just 30 years, the heavily thinned forest had not only recovered all the carbon removed during harvesting, but had also gained enough additional carbon to equal the increase seen in the unharvested controls.

These findings have profound implications. Bigger trees are more resistant to fires, so when the next fire occurs, they are more likely to survive. Bigger trees are also more likely to form hollows – a critical and declining habitat for rare species such as the greater glider and Leadbeater’s possum.

The acacia trees that grew in most of the silvicultural treatments are also vital for Leadbeater’s possums, which use it to forage and move around the forest. Camera traps across the sites confirmed this: Leadbeater’s possums were found in every silvicultural treatment plot we surveyed – but none of the unharvested areas.

Lessons for the future

The Tanjil Bren SSP offers three important lessons.

First, long-term silvicultural experiments are irreplaceable. Australia’s forests contain many forgotten experiments that could transform our understanding of how forests respond to human intervention. But all too often, they end up neglected, unfunded and forgotten. We should find them before it is too late.

Second, forest thinning is not a trade-off. Our findings show this for mountain ash, and other studies in North America have shown this for conifer forests. It can deliver wood for local industry, absorb carbon and improve habitat for wildlife. It is a win-win-win outcome that challenges the false dichotomy of conservation versus production that has dominated public debate for decades.

While thinning cannot (and should not) be done everywhere, it may be a useful tool to create more variety in tree ages and sizes, particularly in forests impacted by clearfelling or high-severity fire.

Third, and perhaps most importantly: there is no silvicultural silver bullet for managing forests. The long-forgotten experiment at Tanjil Bren has taught us that there are options available for managing our forests beyond clearfelling that can contribute to the societal demand for wood, maintain carbon stocks, and conserve biodiversity.

Kaitlyn Hammond, Postdoctoral fellow, University of Northern British Columbia; Craig Nitschke, Professor in Forest and Landscape Dynamics, The University of Melbourne; Patrick Baker, Director of the AFWI Centre for Climate Smart Forestry and Professor of Silviculture and Forest Ecology, The University of Melbourne, and Raphael Trouve, Senior Research Fellow in Forest Dynamics and Statistical Modelling, The University of Melbourne

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

When catastrophic wildfires capture global headlines, such as the unprecedented blazes sweeping through southern Europe this summer or the devastating 2019–20 “Black Summer” in Australia, they are almost always preceded by severe drought. Dry vegetation and parched landscapes are necessary ingredients for infernos.

But not all droughts are created equal – the way a drought evolves can drastically alter how a fire behaves once it ignites. As global temperatures rise, a new and dangerous phenomenon is becoming increasingly common: the “flash drought”.

Unlike standard droughts, which take place over months or years, flash droughts are rapidly occurring dry spells, driven by intense heat and unusually low humidity. They suck moisture out of the landscape at an alarming rate.

While scientists know standard droughts increase fire risks, a critical question has remained unanswered: do flash droughts further increase this risk, and what happens when these two drought types collide?

Our latest research mapped two decades of global satellite data to answer this question. We found when landscapes transition from a prolonged standard drought into a rapid flash drought – or when the two overlap – they create a “hyper-flammable” state. This acts as a massive fire accelerant; they spread faster, last longer and grow significantly larger than other wildfires.

How hyper-flammability works

To understand why this happens, we have to look at how different droughts affect the environment. The major difference is the speed at which they occur.

A standard drought acts like a slow, relentless oven. Over months, it gradually dries out vegetation and severely reduces soil moisture, leaving a dry environment primed to burn.

A flash drought, on the other hand, is like hitting the landscape with a high-powered hairdryer. The atmospheric dryness rapidly increases, characterised by extreme heat and low humidity, and quickly depletes remaining soil moisture.

When a standard drought turns into a flash drought, the effects don’t just add up; they multiply. Combined, they cause the fire danger to skyrocket, setting the perfect stage for fast-spreading and intense wildfires. Short-lived weather anomalies such as flash droughts generate disproportionately severe and extreme fires.

Tracking two decades of global fires

To uncover this pattern, we analysed global drought and satellite-based fire data sets from 2002 to 2021. Global wildfires were categorised into four distinct groups: fires occurring under normal (no drought) conditions; fires occurring during flash droughts; fires occurring during isolated standard droughts; and fires occurring where the two drought types overlapped or followed one another.

Across every single fire metric we measured, including speed, size, duration and spread, fires burning under combined drought conditions were the most extreme. The median size of these fires was 65% larger than fires in normal conditions, and 21% larger than those occurring during standard droughts alone. They spread 35% faster and burned 19% longer.

We also discovered that regions experiencing combined drought conditions endured significantly longer dry spells before a fire actually started. On average, 72 days passed between the onset of a combined drought and the start of a fire. This compared with only 17 days for flash droughts and 56 days for standard droughts. This prolonged period allows severe dryness to develop before fires start.

Global fire hotspots

While fires that follow standard droughts are widespread across the globe’s arid and semi-arid zones, we found fires following flash droughts and, particularly, combined droughts, clustered in distinct geographic hotspots.

The most extreme are heavily concentrated in highly vulnerable communities of plants and animals, including the savannas of South America and Africa, northern Australia, and the western United States.

These regions are highly susceptible to rapid-onset heat and moisture stress, making them ground zero for compounding climate extremes. The presence of both slow-moving and flash droughts causes the most extreme fire behaviour, thus amplifying the fire’s intensity.

Rethinking wildfire preparation

As the climate continues to heat up, the rate of evaporation increases worldwide. This means the frequency and extent of combined droughts are likely to increase across fire-prone regions around the world.

Crucially, we must stop viewing droughts simply as a static state of reduced moisture. Instead, we must recognise them as evolving processes, in which the shift from one type of drought to another can fundamentally change wildfire severity.

Unfortunately, many current global drought and fire monitoring systems emphasise real-time conditions, or look at drought severity as an aggregated whole. To better protect communities and nature, these systems urgently need to integrate information on how droughts evolve. This would enable us to better detect emerging hyper-flammable landscapes before the first spark.

Abhirup Dikshit, ARC DECRA Fellow, Climate Change Research Centre, UNSW and Jason Evans, Professor, Climate Change Research Centre, UNSW

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

On the first day of winter, southwest Western Australia was pummelled by a damaging storm. The Bureau of Meteorology (BoM) described it as the most intense weather system to hit the region in almost 50 years. Although severe storms can be devastating, they’re also important for delivering rain in a part of Australia that is drying out.

As the planet continues to warm, climate patterns that were stable for decades are beginning to shift. This changes the extreme weather events we experience from day to day.

Long-term historical records help us make sense of recent trends. They give us a rare chance to see how weather extremes have changed since pre-industrial times.

In meteorology, atmospheric pressure measures the weight of the air around us, with sudden drops indicating stormy conditions. Our new study, published in Climate Dynamics, has reconstructed the longest record of pressure readings taken multiple times a day in the Southern Hemisphere, tracking severe storms in Perth from 1830.

Historically, data from this region has been sparse. Our results are a vital contribution to the World Meteorological Organization’s global network of long-term monitoring stations.

By consolidating nearly 200 years of daily pressure, temperature and rainfall observations from Perth, our research reveals new details about the behaviour of severe storms, and broader weather trends across Australia.

Reconstructing weather extremes from Australia’s past

How did Australia’s climate fluctuate before the large-scale burning of fossil fuels? To find out, we needed to look at historical weather observations recorded during the pre-industrial period.

Data used by the BoM to study long-term weather and climate typically begin in the early 1900s. But older weather records do exist in state and national archives – we just need to “rescue” them. This means digitising fragile journals and transcribing historical observations for weather and climate research.

There have been past weather data rescue efforts in Australia, but these mostly focused on temperature and rainfall. Pre-1955 barometer readings – measurements of atmospheric pressure – for most Australian capital cities are only available in the BoM’s original handwritten meteorological registers.

By recovering these historical observations, we mapped the large-scale atmospheric circulation patterns that drive extreme weather – from low-pressure storm systems to high-pressure heatwaves. This allowed us to reconstruct past weather maps, day by day, all the way back to 1830.

We focused on the data rescue of multiple daily pressure readings from Perth. This work provides the “missing link” between the BoM’s pressure observations available for the city from 1942, and our team’s previous data rescue efforts, including a citizen science project to transcribe 19th century materials.

What did the records show?

We consolidated 196 years of weather data from four historical sites:

• Swan River (1830–1875)
• Perth Gardens (1876–1900)
• Perth Observatory (1897–1908).
• Perth Regional Office (1907–1944).

This work builds on our previous analysis of daily temperature extremes in Adelaide, allowing us to evaluate long-term changes in severe storms in another important area of southern Australia.

We identified 141 severe storms that impacted Perth between 1830 and 2024. We cross-checked these against historical material, including newspaper articles.

For example, on June 17 1927, a “terrific wind and rain storm” impacted Perth with a record wind speed of 128km per hour, causing extensive damage to buildings and infrastructure. It was reported as a storm of “cyclonic strength”, which wasn’t just media exaggeration – such high wind speeds are classified as a category 2 tropical cyclone today.

Why are winter storms declining?

The decline in Perth’s winter storms since 1970 is linked to changes to the Hadley cell – a major atmospheric circulation pattern that influences the Earth’s climate.

This large-scale pattern is responsible for moving heat from the equator toward the poles, creating wet rainforests at the equator and dry desert zones in the subtropics.

As increasing greenhouse gases and ozone depletion heat the atmosphere, the Hadley cell is expanding. In Australia, this is pushing the subtropical high-pressure desert belt poleward. In turn, this weakens the rain-bearing westerly winds and the storm fronts that usually travel across our southern coastline, reducing rainfall across the southern mainland.

Since the 1970s, this process has triggered the drying of subtropical regions around the world, including southern Australia, southern Africa, and the Mediterranean.

Southwestern Australia is recognised as a global climate change hotspot, having experienced a dramatic 20% decrease in winter rainfall since 1970.

Until now, studies tracking the pathway of past storms were confined to the mid-20th century onward, when modern datasets begin. Most studies have also focused on the Northern Hemisphere where long-term pressure records are more common.

Looking back to look forward

Our extended analysis shows the modern decline in storms hitting Perth is unusually persistent. The decade from 2010 to 2019 had fewer storms than any other decade since 1830.

Our analysis also identified a long dry period between 1830 and 1846 that was actually drier than our current rainfall deficit.

While the modern decline is more relentless, this historical dry spell suggests that modern weather observations don’t capture the full range of natural variability and extremes.

This means future climate risk is likely being underestimated in Perth, and across Australia in general.

Historical observations are our best way of filling crucial gaps in Australia’s climate records, allowing us to sharpen our forecasts of future weather extremes in a warmer world.

Joëlle Gergis, Honorary Associate Professor of Climate Science, The University of Melbourne; Jarrad Rowe, PhD Candidate, School of Geography, Earth and Atmospheric Sciences, The University of Melbourne, and Linden Ashcroft, Senior Lecturer, Climate Science and Science Communication, The University of Melbourne

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

Last summer, Australia’s electricity grid underwent a quiet but consequential shift.

Across the east coast, gas-fired power stations – long viewed as the only way to keep the grid functioning on our hottest or coldest days – barely ran.

The amount of energy generated by fossil gas this year dropped to its lowest point in 25 years. Batteries are now filling this gap, as a cheaper, cleaner alternative at peak times.

And wholesale electricity prices are 47% lower than this time last year, thanks to record renewable and battery generation.

This shift sits at the heart of the CSIRO’s latest GenCost report, which tells a story of two technologies heading in opposite directions: batteries getting cheaper and gas getting more expensive.

The steady shift away from coal

In Australia, most of our electricity historically came from coal. But each year we’re becoming less reliant on this finite and polluting resource. Coal usage has dropped by 25% in the past decade. In the first three months of 2026, renewables supplied a record 45% of electricity in Australia’s east coast grid.

This matters because electricity generation produces 32% of Australia’s carbon emissions. These emissions are worsening climate change, leading to more extreme weather and leaving many Australians physically and financially vulnerable.

Our coal power stations are also ageing. Like an old car, these stations are now breaking down more often and becoming more expensive to fix. When coal plants suddenly go offline, it pushes electricity prices up.

The federal government is aiming for 82% renewable energy by 2030 nationally. To meet that target, we must develop new wind and solar projects. But we also need new “firming” technologies, such as batteries and pumped hydro, to make sure we always have energy available.

Batteries are getting cheaper

The latest GenCost report confirms that renewables, backed by batteries, are the cheapest source of new electricity.

Critically, the cost of big, grid-scale batteries fell by 11–16% in 2025. And the CSIRO expects costs to keep dropping each year. This is because we get better at building these technologies as we build more of them.

More batteries

Across power grids, electric vehicles, computers and phones, we’re installing more and more batteries each year. Between 2024 and 2025, global battery storage capacity jumped by 40%. Australia is leading the charge, ranking third in the world for battery installations.

Plummeting costs

Battery costs have fallen more than 99% since 1991. More streamlined supply chains and economies of scale have made this battery boom possible.

Research shows each time global battery storage doubles, the cost of manufacturing battery cells drops by 21%. In the future, this may boost the development of new battery technologies. This self-supporting cycle means the cheaper batteries get, the more ways we can use them. And the more we use them, the cheaper batteries are to make.

Gas is getting more expensive

Gas plants rely on gas turbines. Unlike batteries, gas turbines are produced in relatively small numbers by only a handful of global manufacturers. This is because they are complex machines that often require specialised materials.

Demand for new gas turbines was low for the past decade. But it’s now increasing, largely due to the data centre boom in the United States. Power demand for data centres is already pushing up prices. Major gas turbine manufacturers are warning it will now take four years just to make and deliver a new turbine.

Gas plants also face other challenges. Gas is not always available at critical times. Australia’s newest gas turbine, Kurri Kurri in New South Wales’ Hunter Valley, only has enough available gas to run for about ten hours at a time and reportedly takes more than 24 hours to refuel. This makes it less flexible and more expensive than new eight-hour batteries.

Another challenge is the high cost of gas sourced from fossil fuels. As Australia’s gas exports grew, domestic gas prices surged to international levels. To date, this has been the main factor driving up household electricity prices.

Together, these challenges mean the cost of gas generation is unlikely to drop anytime soon.

A balancing act

To be clear, gas turbines may still be valuable in future.

As Australia makes its clean energy transition, batteries will increasingly do the heavy lifting. But my research shows the grid will likely need stored fuel for backup power generation, for example if a stretch of cloudy, windless days coincides with high demand. This may even involve building extra gas turbines, but using them less often as emergency generators for the grid.

However, these turbines cannot run on fossil gas going forward. Over the next 10–20 years, global carbon constraints will require us to transition from fossil fuels. Instead we can use alternative fuels such as biodiesel, a biodegradable fuel made from vegetable oils or animal fats. Green hydrogen from renewable energy or green methanol produced from agricultural and forestry waste are other options. This transition makes further investment in fossil fuel infrastructure, such as gas pipelines or gas fields, much riskier.

In the meantime, the incredible surge of batteries in our homes, cars and broader network means our grid is already shifting away from gas. That’s promising news, both for our planet and our hip pockets.

Joel Gilmore, Associate Professor, Griffith University

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

California is once again confronting a rapidly escalating wildfire season fuelled by extreme heat, drying vegetation, drought and strong winds.

As of 24 July, the state has recorded more than 3,800 wildfires so far this year, burning approximately 79,000 hectares. The largest active blaze, in Lassen County, had grown to more than 28,000 hectares.

The immediate images are familiar to Australians: towering smoke columns and orange skies. But these wildfires are not simply the result of hot summer weather. They are driven by a chain of interacting climatic, environmental and human factors.

In Australia, a powerful El Niño and the possible emergence of a positive Indian Ocean Dipole would bring drier, warmer weather. This could create similarly dangerous conditions in southern and eastern Australia this spring and summer.

A hot, dry landscape primed to burn

In southern California, persistent drought, abundant grass growth and low coastal moisture have accelerated the drying of vegetation. In the north of the state, early–season dryness and the development of “flash drought” conditions have pushed some landscapes towards critical fire danger.

As temperatures rise, warm air can draw more moisture from plants and soils. This means that even if it rains, vegetation cannot replace the water it loses. Even living plants can dry enough to burn fiercely.

Warm nights — a product of global heating — are another concern. Previously, cool and humid overnight conditions give firefighters a chance to strengthen containment lines. When nights remain hot and dry, fires can burn around the clock.

Strong winds and a century of fire suppression

Heat and drought create flammable landscapes, but wind often determines whether a fire becomes a disaster. As we witnessed with the catastrophic Los Angeles wildfires in January 2025, California’s mountain ranges, valleys and passes can funnel winds.

The significance of wind was clear in the present fires in eastern California, where erratic winds contributed to rapid fire spread around the Highway 395 corridor.

California’s rugged terrain also makes wildfires more difficult to control. Flames generally travel faster uphill because heat rises and preheats vegetation above the fire. Steep slopes also restrict access for firefighting vehicles and ground crews.

In some forests, decades of fire suppression have contributed to dense undergrowth and accumulations of fallen timber. Frequent, relatively mild fires once removed some of this material. Where wildfire has been excluded, vegetation may form “ladder fuels” that carry flames from the forest floor into the tree canopy.

Climate change is loading the dice

Fires can begin through lightning, machinery, vehicles, power lines, campfires or deliberate acts. Climate change creates a warmer background climate in which fuels dry more quickly and remain dry for longer.

The US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reports climate change has become one of the dominant drivers of the increase in fire weather conditions across the western United States.

Research has also identified an increase of about 25 days in the annual fire season when dangerous fire conditions occur simultaneously across large areas of the western United States. This raises the possibility of several major fires competing for aircraft, firefighters and emergency resources at the same time.

Climate change is loading the dice towards more dangerous fire weather globally, even though weather, ignition and land management still determine the behaviour of individual fires.

California’s wildfire risk is also increasing because homes and infrastructure continue to expand into the wildland–urban interface: the zone where towns and suburbs meet forests, grasslands and shrublands.

Australia’s warning from across the Pacific

The Californian wildfires carry a clear warning for southern and eastern Australia as spring and summer approach.

The Bureau of Meteorology confirmed on 14 July that El Niño is underway, with oceanic and atmospheric indicators showing a well–established event. Most climate models indicate that El Niño will strengthen and persist until at least the austral summer, with a high likelihood of becoming a very strong event and potentially ranking among the strongest observed since 1950.

El Niño commonly reduces winter and spring rainfall across eastern Australia and is associated with warmer daytime temperatures in southern Australia. Its effects vary between events, however. The strength of an El Niño does not translate directly into the severity of drought or bushfire.

Also of interest is the Indian Ocean Dipole (IOD). In mid–July it remained neutral, indicating that sea–surface temperatures across the tropical Indian Ocean were close to their long–term average and that a positive IOD had not yet developed.

During a positive IOD, waters near Indonesia and north–western Australia are cooler than normal, while the western tropical Indian Ocean becomes warmer. This tends to shift tropical rainfall westwards and reduce the moisture available to rain–bearing systems across southern and south–eastern Australia.

If a strong El Niño and positive IOD develop together, their drying influences could reinforce one another during late winter and spring.

How we should respond

The present warning signs are concerning Australian fire and emergency authorities. The seasonal outlook for winter 2026 found above–normal fire potential in drought–affected parts of central and northern New South Wales.

Without significant rainfall, warmer and drier conditions could also produce increased fire activity across south-eastern Australia. The greatest danger would arise where earlier rainfall promoted abundant growth of grasses and shrubs.

This does not guarantee a severe Australian bushfire season. Nevertheless, the warning signs justify early preparation.

California demonstrates how quickly drought, heat, dry fuels, wind and human exposure can combine to produce a major emergency. Should a strong or very strong El Niño coincide with a positive IOD, southern and eastern Australia may enter spring with a highly flammable landscape — and with little room for complacency.

Steve Turton, Adjunct Professor of Environmental Geography, CQUniversity Australia

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

Hundreds of thousands of people have fled their homes in southwestern France and Spain as extreme wildfires intensify. At least three people have died, including two firefighters. Many houses have been lost.

While this region is no stranger to fire, our analysis shows these wildfires are off the charts. A very hot summer primed many areas for fire. When they ignited, they spread ferociously. The area of land burned in France is already 40% larger than the previous record year.

Some fires pose threats to large cities such as Bordeaux in France and Madrid in Spain. For the first time ever recorded in France, a fire thunderstorm (pyrocumulonimbus) formed over fires and made them worse. French President Emmanuel Macron described the fires as “unprecedented”.

A Spanish firefighter told AP the fires were extremely hard to fight:

the fire is so virulent and has such power that no matter what you do, you can’t put it out.

Authorities are scrambling to control the fires before another heatwave begins later this week.

How bad are these fires?

We have compiled data for this article showing just how unusual these fires are, compared with previous wildfires.

Three of the 15 largest wildfires since the European Union began recording data 20 years ago have burned during the past month.

In France, the energy output from the fires measured by NASA satellites is double the previous record for July. With another month or two left in the fire season, France is on track for its worst season since satellite records began in the early 2000s.

The Iberian Peninsula (Spain and Portugal) and France’s Mediterranean regions are well known to be wildfire-prone. Last year, our research predicted wildfires would worsen in these areas under moderate climate change of 1.5°C and 2°C above average pre-industrial temperatures. Global warming has hit 1.5°C over the past three years.

What we didn’t expect was the appearance of massive, intense fires along the more humid Atlantic coast of France, near Bordeaux. These fires are worse than we predicted.

What’s making them so bad?

Spain and southwestern France are in the grip of severe drought and recurrent intense heatwaves well outside the range of records kept since 1940. Temperatures across the region have been around 4–5°C above average for June. This is what we would expect as the climate changes.

More heatwaves are forecast as the European summer wears on. As a result, 2026 is likely to become a clear outlier for extreme heat in western Europe.

Uncontrolled wildfires are not a surprise after a prolonged drought and extreme heatwaves. Arid conditions and dry ground make it much easier for vegetation to burn.

We don’t know how these fires started. But we do know densely populated areas are reliable sources of ignition. Fires can start from a tossed cigarette, lightning strike, car backfire or if someone deliberately lights them.

It’s possible to reduce the chance of ignitions when conditions make intense fires likely, but it’s not realistic to stop them altogether.

What are the consequences for people?

Huge fires like these do a great deal of damage, in both the short and long term.

Because many of these fires threaten towns and cities, authorities have ordered mass evacuations. This protects human lives, but makes it more likely houses and other structures will burn if there’s no one to defend them.

We don’t yet know how many houses have been lost. But the scale of the fires suggests there will be significant losses.

We also don’t yet know how bad the toll from smoke will be. Millions of people have been exposed to harmful wildfire smoke. Big fires like these prompt many people to seek care at hospitals for respiratory and cardiovascular issues. There’s a small but noticeable effect on mortality.

What does it mean for the climate?

The size and energy release of these fires will drive a spike in greenhouse emissions, as burned vegetation releases carbon to the atmosphere.

Across the Northern Hemisphere, forest fires are becoming more intense and more common. Wildfires are currently hitting Canada and the United States. In recent years, fires have ignited in unexpected places, such as Scotland and even Greenland.

Intensifying fires make it harder for us to tackle climate change. Forests are vital natural stores of carbon. But they are now shifting in some places to a net source of carbon.

If unchecked, this could trigger a dangerous feedback cycle that would further destabilise Earth’s climate.

There is little doubt climate change has made France and Spain’s wildfires worse. They represent yet another reason to redouble our efforts to tackle climate change and stabilise our climate.

For authorities responding, it will be vital to use adaptation responses to reduce risks from the next wildfire crisis. These include reducing fuel loads and fire hazards, using methods such as prescribed burning, forest thinning and incorporating green firebreaks into urban landscape design.

No country has yet solved the challenge of responding to wildfires made worse by climate change. The intense fires gripping France and Spain show how urgent it is to be prepared.

David Bowman, Professor of Pyrogeography and Fire Science, University of Tasmania; Calum Cunningham, Research Fellow in Pyrogeography, University of Tasmania, and Grant Williamson, Research Fellow in Environmental Science, University of Tasmania

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

As the planet warms, countries around the world are racing to meet their net zero targets set out in the 2015 Paris Agreement.

To achieve this, we must collectively curb our net greenhouse gas emissions. These gases – the largest contributor being carbon dioxide (CO₂) – act as a cosmic blanket by trapping heat in Earth’s atmosphere.

Scientists are investigating ways to lock up more atmospheric carbon in our oceans, forests and soils.

One of the proposed methods is ocean alkalinity enhancement. This aims to boost the ocean’s natural ability to absorb and store atmospheric carbon dioxide by changing the chemistry of seawater.

So how does this process work, and what are the risks?

Let’s unpack the research.

A lesson in ocean chemistry

The ocean is one of the largest carbon stores on the planet. About 30% of the CO₂ we emit annually – through burning fossil fuels such as coal, oil and gas – are absorbed by our seas.

The ocean’s ability to absorb CO₂ is largely determined by how alkaline it is. Seawater is naturally alkaline. This is because over millions of years, the ocean has absorbed alkaline minerals from the weathering and breakdown of rocks

What is ocean alkalinity enhancement?

By taking up atmospheric carbon, the ocean has helped regulate Earth’s climate over long periods. However, this natural process is far too slow to combat climate change.

That’s where ocean alkalinity enhancement comes in.

Alkalinity enhancement accelerates this carbon capture process by increasing the ocean’s alkalinity. This allows seawater to convert more dissolved CO₂ into stable forms. As a result, the ocean absorbs more CO₂ overall and keeps more carbon out of our atmosphere.

In practice, increasing the ocean’s alkalinity involves adding materials such as dissolved sodium hydroxide or ground-up silicate and carbonate rocks to seawater.

So far, it has been tested through several small-scale projects. These typically involve researchers releasing alkaline materials at coastal locations, using ships or special facilities and equipment.

Questions remain

While this method seems promising, there are still some unknowns.

Scale

We don’t know whether it’s possible to roll it out at scale, which is key to reaching global net zero targets. Scientists are also investigating how well ocean alkalinity enhancement works in different regions and marine ecosystems.

This means projects must be tailored to specific locations. Our research shows even seemingly minor differences in ocean currents, wind, water depth and seasonal conditions all affect how much CO₂ can be absorbed.

Safety

Early field trials and modelling suggest removing CO₂ through small-scale alkalinity enhancement projects had few measurable impacts on nearby protected areas.

Several lab-based studies also suggest small increases in alkalinity have little to no effect on some Australian kelp and algae species. Meanwhile, other research identifies limitations on the amount that can be added and ecosystem effects from different alkaline materials.

Scientists are working to add to this evidence base through proposed field tests in the Bass Strait, conducted aboard the RV Investigator. These tests, which will bring together experts and students from across Australia, will help us identify any environmental impacts and hone our skills in measuring changes caused by ocean alkalinity enhancement.

Community support

Without public support, alkalinity enhancement projects are unlikely to be successful. Research suggests communities are somewhat wary. Research from Tasmania shows people prefer to be involved in decision-making processes and not just consulted. Communities also want clear information about the environmental impacts of future projects.

In Australia, we must also engage with First Nations communities when designing field tests and proposed projects. Only then can we draw on their deep knowledge and enduring connection to Sea Country.

Where to from here

Our climate is rapidly changing. And unless we curb our carbon emissions, this trend will only get worse.

Locking up atmospheric carbon dioxide through ocean alkalinity enhancement is one way to do this. However, changing the chemistry of our oceans comes with certain risks and limitations.

So any future attempts must balance the urgent need for atmospheric carbon removal with robust research and meaningful community engagement. This ensures that any ocean alkalinity enhancement is both environmentally responsible and socially supported.

Getting this balance right is essential for Australia and other nations, informing how we steward our seas and other natural resources to reach our ambitious climate targets.

Harris Anderson, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Marine Carbon Dioxide Removal, CSIRO; Andrew Lenton, Research Lead, Carbon Dioxide Removal, CSIRO, and Mathieu Mongin, Research scientist, CSIRO

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

Peatlands are the unsung heroes of nature.

These ancient wetlands form when dead and decaying plants partly decompose in wet, low-oxygen conditions. Over thousands of years, this plant material builds up and turns into a dark, soil-like substance known as peat.

Brazil, Indonesia and central Africa’s Congo Basin are all famous for their peatlands. Australia is also dotted with these ancient wetlands.

Peatlands are crucial carbon stores, locking up roughly one-third of the carbon found in our planet’s soils.

But when peat dries out and burns, the consequences can be disastrous: incinerated soils, smouldering wetlands, air pollution and massive carbon emissions.

But surprisingly, peat fires in dry Australia aren’t always a problem. Sometimes, these fires do vital ecological work.

When peatlands burn

Globally, peatland fires are generally viewed as an environmental danger.

In Indonesia, for example, authorities this year are bracing for severe peat fires under the hotter, drier conditions created by a strong El Niño weather pattern. Peatland fires are also worryingly common in countries such as Malaysia and Chile.

These fires are most destructive when they don’t just burn vegetation, but the peat itself. When peat catches fire, it can smoulder underground for months or even years.

These hidden blazes are much harder to extinguish, and inflict long-term damage on wetland plants, animals and ecosystems. They also release massive amounts of stored carbon back into the atmosphere.

Australia: a more nuanced picture

In some environments, fire is both a danger and a vital ecological process. Australia is a case in point.

Australia is home to various kinds of peatlands. These range from desert mound springs in outback Western Australia and South Australia to subtropical coastal peat swamps, which stretch from Queensland to New South Wales. There are also the buttongrass moorlands of Tasmania and alpine bogs found across eastern Australia.

Some of these ecosystems have evolved to thrive even after being burnt. So under the right conditions, authorities can use fire to help conserve them.

Ecological burns involve lighting controlled, low-temperature fires to maintain, restore or boost the health of an ecosystem. These fires stop vegetation from growing too densely. They also create and maintain crucial habitat for local wildlife by making space for new plants to grow. Heat and smoke from fire can also germinate the seeds of certain fire-adapted plants.

We can see this in the Fleurieu Peninsula swamps of South Australia. At these nationally threatened wetlands, authorities often run ecological burning programs. These burns have ensured several threatened species – such as the Yundi guinea-flower (Hibbertia tenuis) and southern emu-wren (Stipiturus malachurus intermedius) – are now flourishing. Other research shows heat and smoke from managed fires have accelerated seedling growth across these swamps.

Ecological burns are not a modern invention, but have many parallels with cultural burning. Charcoal and pollen records suggest First Nations communities were already burning parts of the Fleurieu Peninsula wetlands well before European settlement.

Burning plants, not peat

To restore peatlands with fire, it’s crucial that any flames burn vegetation without affecting the peat below. This ensures the peat stays wet and protected.

If a blaze reaches the peat layer, it becomes an urgent environmental risk.

This happened not too long ago in the peatlands of south-west Western Australia. There an underground peat fire burnt for more than six months in 2024, becoming one of the state’s longest-running fires. And it kept burning despite record rain and the efforts of local firefighters.

Wetlands can take centuries to recover from peat fires. Studies of major fires in Australian alpine peatlands show various factors – including fire severity, peat moisture and vegetation type – affect how quickly and well an ecosystem recovers.

Climate change will make it harder

In a warming world, peat fires are becoming increasingly common.

Hotter temperatures, drier conditions and more frequent above-ground fires increase the risk of damaging peat fires. These factors also mean ecological burns must be carefully planned and managed.

This problem has no simple solution. We can’t just ban all forms of fire, or simply get rid of peatlands.

Instead, we should identify which peatlands may actually benefit from ecological burns. When lighting controlled fires, we must ensure peat stays wet and protected at all costs. And we urgently need more research to understand how other factors – such as peat depth, moisture, vegetation and fire history – may heighten the risk of peat fires.

Christopher Auricht, Visiting Research Fellow in Natural Resources Management, Adelaide University

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

The Australian government this week announced plans to construct a new large-scale oil refinery in Western Australia. If approved, it would be the first refinery to be built since the 1960s.

The federal government initially touted the idea of a government-backed oil refinery in April. In the months since, Australians have grappled with surging petrol prices triggered by the prolonged US-Iran war.

The federal government, with Western Australia, has now announced it will jointly fund a A$4 million pre-feasibility study into a proposed large-scale oil refinery. This study will assess if Australia needs a new large-scale refinery and, if so, where it should go and how it should be operated.

This announcement raises several crucial questions: what is the government proposing? Could it shore up Australia’s fuel supplies? And what does it mean for emissions reduction?

A country exposed

The prolonged US-Iran war has revealed just how vulnerable Australia’s liquid fuel supply is.

Two decades ago, Australia had eight oil refineries. That number has dwindled to two – Queensland’s Ampol refinery and Victoria’s Viva energy plant – as ageing infrastructure and rising costs made these facilities uneconomical. For these reasons the Kwinana refinery – formerly Australia’s largest oil refinery located just south of Perth – shut down in 2021.

These closures have made Australia extremely reliant on liquid fossil fuel imports. We currently import 90% of our petrol, jet fuel and diesel from Asia. The remaining 10% of liquid fuels come from Australia’s two remaining refineries. Both refineries are remnants of the oil boom of the 1950s and 60s, when several major oil companies scrambled to take advantage of newly discovered Bass Strait oil and a wave of government investment.

But our research shows Australia needed more refineries, even before the US-Iran conflict erupted. This was made clear by the refinery fire at Victoria’s Viva plant in April, which temporarily halted domestic production. However, several factors – including high construction costs, declining domestic crude oil supply and intense competition from Asian mega-refineries – have stopped Australia from building new plants.

All about location

The $4 million pre-feasibility study will determine where a new refinery should be built. The government has identified Western Australia as the most suitable state. But it is yet to confirm exactly where the proposed refinery will go.

There are two main contenders. One is Kwinana, which is close to Perth’s urban energy market and the now-closed Kwinana refinery. However, it’s unlikely to win out given the former refinery site is earmarked for redevelopment as a biofuels hub.

The other option is Karratha in WA’s Pilbara region. This fast-growing city is suitable for two reasons. It’s close to the North West Shelf project, Australia’s largest operating oil and gas development. It’s also where Perdaman, the company slated to construct the proposed refinery, is already building a $6.5 billion fertiliser plant.

Feeding the refinery

For the proposed refinery to work, it requires a steady supply of oil.

Australia produces around 250,000 barrels of light crude oil each day. Most of this oil is exported to Asian refineries, and returns to Australia as liquid fuel.

WA’s northwest shelf region primarily produces gas. This means it offers only limited feedstock – the raw or processed oil needed to make fuels, chemicals or plastics – for a proposed refinery.

It’s possible to redirect northwest shelf oil so it goes to the refinery, instead of being exported. However, Australia’s existing export contracts could make this difficult, and negotiations may be necessary.

An alternative oil source is the Bass Strait. In 2026, the federal government started showing interest in Victoria’s Gippsland basin and the Bass basin, in the waters between Victoria’s southern tip and northern Tasmania. The government is now exploring these basins as potential offshore petroleum sites to gauge if there’s appetite for future exploration licences among petroleum companies.

Looking ahead

If approved, it would take between five to ten years to build a facility of this size, subject to whether approvals are fast-tracked.

If the proposal does go ahead, a new refinery would provide much-needed liquid fuel security in a world of surging energy prices and volatile oil supplies. Depending on its size, the new refinery may exceed the former Kwinana refinery’s daily production of 146,000 barrels of oil. This would reduce Australia’s reliance on imported fuel, and ease the petrol pump pain of all Australians.

But it also begs the question, should Australia keep producing conventional liquid fuels? Our rapidly warming climate demands we shift away from these polluting energy sources. Low-carbon biofuels – renewable fuels made from plants, algae or animal waste – may be one alternative.

Another possible path forward is designing any new refineries so that biofuels can be produced alongside traditional liquid fuels. However, this must be viable from both an environmental and fuel security perspective, and should be a focus of the government’s pre-feasibility study.

Tina Soliman-Hunter, Professor of Energy and Natural Resources Law, Macquarie University

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