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Australia’s climate and energy wars are at the forefront of the federal election campaign as the major parties outline vastly different plans to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and tackle soaring power prices.

Meanwhile, misinformation about climate change has permeated public debate during the campaign, feeding false and misleading claims about renewable energy, gas and global warming.

This is a dangerous situation. In Australia and globally, rampant misinformation has for decades slowed climate action – creating doubt, hindering decision-making and undermining public support for solutions.

Here, we explain the history of climate misinformation in Australia and identify three prominent campaigns operating now. We also outline how Australians can protect themselves from misinformation as they head to the polls.

Misinformation vs disinformation

Misinformation is defined as false information spread unintentionally. It is distinct from disinformation, which is deliberately created to mislead.

However, proving intent to mislead can be challenging. So, the term misinformation is often used as a general term to describe misleading content, while the term disinformation is reserved for cases where intent is proven.

Disinformation is typically part of a coordinated campaign to influence public opinion. Such campaigns can be run by corporate interests, political groups, lobbying organisations or individuals.

Once released, these false narratives may be picked up by others, who pass them on and create misinformation.

Climate change misinformation in Australia

In the 1980s and 1990s, Australia’s emissions-reduction targets were among the most ambitious in the world.

At the time, about 60 companies were responsible for one-third of Australia’s greenhouse gas emissions. The government’s plan included measures to ensure these companies remained competitive while reducing their climate impact.

Despite this, Australia’s resource industry began a concerted media campaign to oppose any binding emissions-reduction actions, claiming it would ruin the economy by making Australian businesses uncompetitive.

This narrative persisted even when modelling repeatedly showed climate policies would have minimal economic impacts. The industry arguments eventually found their way into government policy.

Momentum against climate action was also fuelled by a vocal group of climate change-denying individuals and organisations, often backed by multinational fossil fuel companies. These deniers variously claimed climate change wasn’t happening, it was caused by natural cycles, or wasn’t that a serious threat.

These narratives were further exacerbated by false balance in media coverage, whereby news outlets, in an effort to appear neutral, often placed climate scientists alongside contrarians, giving the impression that the science was still unclear.

Together, this created an environment in Australia where climate action was seen as either too economically damaging or simply unnecessary.

What’s happening in the federal election campaign?

Climate misinformation has been circulating in the following forms during this federal election campaign.

1. Trumpet of Patriots

Clive Palmer’s Trumpet of Patriots party ran an advertisement that claimed to expose “ the truth about climate change”. It featured a clip from a 2004 documentary, in which a scientist discusses data suggesting temperatures in Greenland were not rising. The scientist in the clip has since said his comments are now outdated.

The type of misinformation is cherry-picking – presenting one scientific measurement at odds with the overwhelming scientific consensus.

Google removed the ad after it was flagged as misleading, but only after it received 1.9 million views.

2. Responsible Future Illawarra

The Responsible Future campaign opposes wind turbines on various grounds, including cost, foreign ownership, power prices, effects on views and fishing, and potential ecological damage.

Scientific evidence indicates offshore wind farms are relatively safe for marine life and cause less harm than boats and fishing gear. Some studies also suggest the infrastructure can create new habitat for marine life.

However, a general lack of research into offshore wind and marine life has created uncertainty that groups such as Responsible Future Illawarra can exploit.

It has cited statements by Sea Shepherd Australia to argue offshore wind farms damage marine life – however Sea Shepherd said its comments were misrepresented.

3. Australians for Natural Gas

Australians for Natural Gas is a pro-gas group set up by the head of a gas company, which presents itself as a grassroots organisation. Its advertising campaign promotes natural gas as a necessary part of Australia’s fuel mix, and stresses its contribution to jobs and the economy.

The ad campaign implicitly suggests climate action – in this case, a shift to renewable energy – is harmful to the economy, livelihoods and energy security. According to Meta’s Ad Library, these adds have already been seen more than 1.1 million times.

Gas is needed in Australia’s current energy mix. But analysis shows it could be phased out almost entirely if renewable energy and storage was sufficiently increased and business and home electrification continues to rise.

And of course, failing to tackle climate change will cause substantial harm across Australia’s economy.

How to identify misinformation

As the federal election approaches, climate misinformation and disinformation is likely to proliferate further. So how do we distinguish fact from fiction?

One way is through “pre-bunking” – familiarising yourself with common claims made by climate change deniers to fortify yourself against misinformation

Sources such as Skeptical Science offer in-depth analyses of specific claims.

The SIFT method is another valuable tool. It comprises four steps:

• Stop
• Investigate the source
• Find better coverage
• Trace claims, quotes and media to their original sources.

As the threat of climate change grows, a flow of accurate information is vital to garnering public and political support for vital policy change.

Correction: A previous version of this article said Responsible Illawarra had cited a purported research paper which does not exist. In fact, the group accused of sharing the paper is known as No Offshore Wind Farm for the Illawarra. The error was introduced in production.

Alfie Chadwick, PhD Candidate, Monash Climate Change Communication Research Hub, Monash University and Libby Lester, Professor (Research) and Director, Monash Climate Change Communication Hub, Monash University

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

Australia just sweltered through one of its hottest summers on record, and heat has pushed well into autumn. Once-in-a-generation floods are now striking with alarming regularity. As disasters escalate, insurers are warning some properties may soon be uninsurable. Yet, despite these escalating disasters — and a federal election looming — conversation around climate change remains deeply polarising.

But are people’s minds really made up? Or are they still open to change?

In research out today, we asked more than 5,000 Australians a simple question: what would change your mind about climate change? Their answers reveal both a warning and an opportunity.

On climate, Australians fall into six groups

Almost two thirds (64%) of Australians are concerned about the impact of climate change, according to a recent survey.

But drill deeper, and we quickly find Australians hold quite different views on climate. In fact, research in 2022 showed Australians can be sorted into six distinct groups based on how concerned and engaged they are with the issue.

At one end was the Alarmed group – highly concerned people who are convinced of the science, and already taking action (25% of Australians). At the other end was the Dismissive group (7%) – strongly sceptical people who often view climate change as exaggerated or even a hoax. In between were the Concerned, Cautious, Disengaged and Doubtful – groups who varied in belief, awareness and willingness to engage.

In our nationally representative survey, we asked every participant what might change their opinion about climate change? We then looked at how the answers differed between the six groups.

For those already convinced climate change is real and human-caused, we wanted to know what might make them doubt it. For sceptical participants, we wanted to know what might persuade them otherwise. In short, we weren’t testing who was “right” or “wrong” – we were mapping how flexible their opinions were.

Our views aren’t set in stone

People at both extremes – Alarmed and Dismissive – were the most likely to say “nothing” would change their minds. Nearly half the Dismissive respondents flat-out rejected the premise. But these two groups together make up just one in three Australians.

What about everyone in the middle ground? The rest – the Concerned (28%), Cautious (23%), Disengaged (3%) and Doubtful (14%) – showed much more openness. They matter most, because they’re the majority — and they’re still listening.

What information would change minds?

What would it take for people to be convinced? We identified four major themes: evidence and information, trusted sources, action being undertaken, and nothing.

The most common response was a desire for better evidence and information. But not just any facts would do. Participants said they wanted clear, plain-English explanations rather than jargon. They wanted statistics they could trust, and science that didn’t feel politicised or agenda-driven. Some said they’d be more convinced if they saw the impacts with their own eyes.

Crucially, many in the Doubtful and Cautious groups didn’t outright reject climate change – they just didn’t feel confident enough to judge the evidence.

The trust gap

Many respondents didn’t know who to believe on climate change. Scientists and independent experts were the most commonly mentioned trusted sources – but trust in these sources wasn’t universal.

Some Australians, especially in the more sceptical segments, expressed deep distrust toward the media, governments and the scientific community. Others said they’d be more receptive if information came from unbiased or apolitical sources. For some respondents, family, friends and everyday people were seen as more credible than institutions.

In an age of widespread misinformation, this matters. If we want to build support for climate action, we need the right messengers as much as the right message.

What about action?

Many respondents said their views could shift if they saw real, meaningful action – especially from governments and big business. Some wanted proof that Australia is taking climate change seriously. Others said action would offer hope or reduce their anxiety.

Even some sceptical respondents said coordinated, global action might persuade them – though they were often cynical about Australia’s impact compared to larger emitters. Others called for a more respectful, depoliticised conversation around climate.

In other words, for many Australians, it’s not just what evidence and information is presented about climate change. It’s also how it’s said, who says it, and why it’s being said.

Of course, the responses we gathered reflect what people say would change their minds. That’s not necessarily what would actually change their minds.

Why does this matter?

As climate change intensifies, so does misinformation — especially online, where artificial intelligence and social media accelerate its spread.

Misinformation has a corrosive effect. Spreading doubt, lies and uncertainty can erode public support for climate action.

If we don’t understand what Australians actually need to hear about climate change – and who they need to hear it from – we risk losing ground to confusion and doubt.

After years of growth from 2012 to 2019, Australian backing for climate action is fluctuating and even dropping, according to Lowy Institute polling.

Climate change may not be the headline issue in this federal election campaign. But it’s on the ballot nonetheless, embedded in debates over how to power Australia, jobs and the cost of living. If we want public support for meaningful climate action, we can’t just shout louder. We have to speak smarter.

Kelly Kirkland, Research Fellow in Psychology, The University of Queensland; Abby Robinson, PhD candidate in Social Psychology, The University of Melbourne; Amy S G Lee, PhD Candidate in Social Psychology, The University of Melbourne; Samantha Stanley, Research Fellow in Social Psychology, UNSW Sydney, and Zoe Leviston, Research Fellow in Social Psychology, Australian National University

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

Snipers in helicopters have shot more than 700 koalas in the Budj Bim National Park in western Victoria in recent weeks. It’s believed to be the first time koalas have been culled in this way.

The cull became public on Good Friday after local wildlife carers were reportedly tipped off.

A fire burned about 20% of the park in mid-March. The government said the cull was urgent because koalas had been left starving or burned.

Wildlife groups have expressed serious concern about how individual koalas had been chosen for culling, because the animals are assessed from a distance. It’s not clear how shooting from a helicopter complies with the state government’s own animal welfare and response plans for wildlife in disasters.

The Victorian government must explain why it is undertaking aerial culling and why it did so without announcing it publicly. The incident points to ongoing failures in managing these iconic marsupials, which are already threatened in other states.

Why did this happen?

Koalas live in eucalypt forests in Australia’s eastern and southern states. The species faces a double threat from habitat destruction and bushfire risk. They are considered endangered in New South Wales, Queensland and the Australian Capital Territory.

In Victoria, koala population levels are currently secure. But they are densely concentrated, often in fragments of bush known as “habitat islands” in the state’s southwest. Budj Bim National Park is one of these islands.

Over time, this concentration becomes a problem. When the koalas are too abundant, they can strip leaves from their favourite gums, killing the trees. The koalas must then move or risk starvation.

If fire or drought make these habitat islands impossible to live in, koalas in dense concentrations often have nowhere to go.

In Budj Bim, Victoria’s Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action and Parks Victoria have tackled koala overpopulation alongside Traditional Owners by moving koalas to new locations or sterilising them.

But Budj Bim is also surrounded by commercial blue gum plantations. Koalas spread out through the plantations to graze on the leaves. Their populations grow. But when the plantations are logged, some koalas have to return to the national park, where food may be in short supply.

Animal welfare groups say logging is one reason Budj Bim had so many koalas.

It’s hard to say definitively whether this is the case, because the state environment department hasn’t shared much information. But researchers have found habitat islands lead to overabundance by preventing the natural dispersal of individuals.

So why was the culling done? Department officials have described the program as “primarily” motivated by animal welfare. After the bushfire last month, koalas have been left starving or injured.

Why shooters in helicopters? Here, the justification given is that the national park is difficult to access due to rocky terrain and fire damage, ruling out other methods.

Euthanising wildlife has to be done carefully

Under Victoria’s plan for animal welfare during disasters, the environment department is responsible for examining and, where necessary, euthanising wildlife during an emergency.

For human intervention to be justified, euthanasia must be necessary on welfare grounds. Victoria’s response plan for fire-affected wildlife says culling is permitted when an animal’s health is “significantly” compromised, invasive treatment is required, or survival is unlikely.

For koalas, this could mean loss of digits or hands, burns to more than 15% of the body, pneumonia from smoke inhalation, or blindness or injuries requiring surgery. Euthanised females must also be promptly examined for young in their pouches.

The problem is that while aerial shooting can be accurate in some cases for larger animals, the method has questionable efficacy for smaller animals – especially in denser habitats.

It’s likely a number of koalas were seriously injured but not killed. But the shooters employed by the department were not able to thoroughly verify injuries or whether there were joeys in pouches, because they were in the air and reportedly 30 or more metres away from their targets.

While the department cited concerns about food resources as a reason for the cull, the state’s wildlife fire plan lays out another option: delivery of supplementary feed. Delivering fresh gum leaves could potentially have prevented starvation while the forest regenerates.

What should the government learn from this?

The state government should take steps to avoid tragic incidents like this from happening again.

Preserving remaining habitat across the state is a vital step, as is reconnecting isolated areas with habitat corridors. This would not only reduce the concentration of koalas in small pockets but increase viable refuges and give koalas safe paths to new food sources after a fire.

Future policies should be developed in consultation with Traditional Owners, who have detailed knowledge of species distributions and landscapes.

We need better ways to help wildlife in disasters. One step would be bringing wildlife rescue organisations into emergency management more broadly, as emphasised in the 2009 Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission and the more recent Royal Commission into National Natural Disaster Arrangements.

This latter report pointed to South Australia’s specialised emergency animal rescue and relief organisation – SAVEM – as an effective model. Under SA’s emergency management plan, the organisation is able to rapidly access burned areas after the fire has passed through.

Victoria’s dense communities of koalas would be well served by a similar organisation able to work alongside existing skilled firefighting services.

The goal would be to make it possible for rescuers to get to injured wildlife earlier and avoid any more mass aerial culls.

Liz Hicks, Lecturer in Law, The University of Melbourne and Ashleigh Best, Barrister, Victorian Bar and Honorary Fellow, Melbourne Law School, The University of Melbourne

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

There are an estimated 1 billion domesticated dogs in the world. Most are owned animals – pets, companions or working animals who share their lives with humans. They are the most common large predator in the world. Pet cats trail far behind, at about 220 million.

We are all too aware of the negative effects of cats, both owned and feral, on wildlife. Feral dogs too are frequently seen as threats to biodiversity, although dingoes can have a positive role. By contrast, our pet dogs often seem to get a free pass.

This is, unfortunately, based more on feelings than data. Our beloved pet dogs have a far greater, more insidious and more concerning effect on wildlife and the environment than we would like to be the case.

In our new research, we lay out the damage pet dogs do and what can be done about it.

Dogs are predators. They catch many types of wildlife and can injure or kill them. Their scent and droppings scare smaller animals. Then there’s the huge environmental cost of feeding these carnivores and the sheer quantity of their poo.

We love our pet dogs, but they come with a very real cost. We have to recognise this and take steps to protect wildlife by leashing or restraining our animals.

The predator in your home

Dogs are domesticated wolves, bred to be smaller, more docile and extremely responsive to humans. But they are still predators.

Pet dogs are responsible for more reported attacks on wildlife than are cats, according to data from wildlife care centres, and catch larger animals.

Pet dogs off the leash are the main reason colonies of little penguins are nearing collapse in Tasmania.

In New Zealand, a single escaped pet dog is estimated to have killed up to 500 brown kiwis out of a total population of 900 over a five-week period.

Once off the leash, dogs love to chase animals and birds. This may seem harmless. But being chased can exhaust tired migratory birds, forcing them to use more energy. Dogs can kill fledglings of beach-nesting birds, including endangered birds such as the hooded plover.

The mere presence of these predators terrifies many animals and birds. Even when they’re on the leash, local wildlife are on high alert. This has measurable negative effects on bird abundance and diversity across woodland sites in eastern Australia.

In the United States, deer are more alert and run sooner and farther if they see a human with a leashed dog than a human alone.

Several mammal species in the United States perceived dogs with a human as a bigger threat than coyotes.

Dogs don’t even have to be present to be bad for wildlife. They scent-mark trees and posts with their urine and leave their faeces in many places. These act as warnings to many other species. Researchers in the US found animals such as deer, foxes and even bobcats avoided areas dogs had been regularly walked compared to dog exclusion zones, due to the traces they left.

Keeping dogs healthy and fed has a cost

The medications we use to rid our pet dogs of fleas or ticks can last weeks on fur, and wash off when they plunge into a creek or river. But some of these medications have ingredients highly toxic to aquatic invertebrates, meaning a quick dip can be devastating.

Researchers have found when birds such as blue tits and great tits collect brushed-out dog fur to line their nests, it can lead to fewer eggs hatching and more dead hatchlings.

Then there’s the poo. In the US, there are about 90 million pet dogs, while the UK has 12 million and Australia has 6 million.

The average dog deposits 200 grams of faeces and 400 millilitres of urine a day. This translates to a tonne of faeces and 2,000 litres of urine over a 13 year lifespan. Scaled up, that’s a mountain of waste.

This waste stream can add to nitrogen pollution in waterways, alter soil chemistry and even spread diseases to humans and other wildlife. More than 80% of the pathogens infecting domesticated animals also infect wildlife.

Dogs largely eat meat, meaning millions of cows and chickens are raised just to feed our pets. Feeding the world’s dogs leads to about the same emissions as the Philippines and a land use “pawprint” twice the size of the UK.

No one likes thinking about this

People love their dogs. They’re always happy to see us. Their companionship makes us healthier, body and mind. Many farms couldn’t run without working dogs. We don’t want to acknowledge they can also cause harm.

Dogs, of course, are not bad. They’re animals, with natural instincts as well as the domesticated instinct to please us. But their sheer numbers mean they do real damage.

Many of us have a large dog-shaped blind spot. Little Brutus wouldn’t have done something like that, we think. But Brutus can and does.

Choosing to own a dog comes with responsibilities. Being a good dog owner means caring not just for the animal we love, but the rest of the natural world.

Bill Bateman, Associate Professor, Behavioural Ecology, Curtin University and Lauren Gilson, Research Associate, Behavioural Ecology, Curtin University

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

When we think of bird songs, we often imagine a cheerful soundtrack during our morning walks. However, for birds, songs are much more than background music – they are crucial to attract a mate and defend a territory.

But what if a song could reveal something deeper about the singer’s personality? A new study, published today in Royal Society Open Science by my colleagues and me, shows it might.

Addressing a research gap

For many bird species, songs vary in complexity, with some individuals producing more intricate melodies than others. Such differences often indicate individual variation in genetic quality, age, or health. Yet most research to date has focused on males, and very few studies have investigated how song complexity relates to personality in birds.

The new study addresses this research gap.

My colleagues and I studied wild superb fairy-wrens (Malurus cyaneus), a small Australian songbird known for its bright plumage and complex vocal skills. Interestingly, in this species, both males and females learn to sing complex songs. This makes them a good example to study the relationship between song complexity and personality in both males and females.

We captured wild superb fairy-wrens and brought them into short-term captivity to assess their personality. Specifically, we measured their exploration by placing them in a novel environment, where we observed where they went and how much they explored the environment.

We also tested their aggressiveness by using a mirror, as birds often see their reflection as a rival and respond accordingly.

We then released the birds and recorded their songs for several months to assess song complexity (that is, element types per song and syllables per song). Elements are the basic building blocks in bird songs (a little like letters in a word) and element types are categories of elements.

Aggressive versus exploratory

We found that, regardless of sex or life stage, birds that were more exploratory had more element types per song than those that were less exploratory. Also, more aggressive birds produced songs with fewer syllables than those that were less aggressive. You can hear this in the recordings below.

We also found that more aggressive fledglings, but not adults, had more element types per song.

Our study demonstrates that both males and females can advertise their personality through their songs. It also raises questions as to whom birds learn their songs from.

In superb fairy-wrens, male and female juveniles learn from both parents as well as from other members of their species. It is possible that rather than learning from any available adults, birds may selectively copy song elements from specific individuals based on their own personality.

In superb fairy-wrens, more exploratory birds may approach and learn from a wider range of tutors than less exploratory ones who may limit themselves to more familiar tutors.

Additionally, our study highlights that the relationship between personality and song complexity could be shifting between different life stages. More aggressive young may experiment with a greater diversity of element types to prepare for the establishment of their own territory in their first year of life, leading to increasing song complexity.

In contrast, adults have already settled in their territories and may not need to experiment as much.

Insights into how personality traits evolve

Our study illustrates that learned aspects of sexual signalling are personality dependent, and that this may have some potential implications for survival or reproduction.

This opens up exciting new questions about how vocal communication reflects individual differences — not just in males, but in females too.

Understanding these links can give us deeper insights into how personality traits evolve and how they influence social interactions in the wild.

Diane Colombelli-Négrel, Senior Lecturer, Animal Behaviour, Flinders University

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

President Donald Trump has issued an executive order that would block state laws seeking to tackle greenhouse gas emissions – the latest salvo in his administration’s campaign to roll back United States’ climate action.

Under Trump, the US has clearly abdicated climate leadership. But the US has in fact obstructed climate action for decades – largely due to damaging actions by the powerful fossil fuel industry.

In 20 years studying attacks on climate science and the powerful forces at work behind the scenes, I’ve come to think the United States is simply not going to lead on climate action. The fossil fuel industry has so poisoned the well of public debate in the US that it’s unlikely the nation will lead on the issue in our lifetimes.

Australia, on the other hand, has enormous potential.

I recently visited Australia from Harvard University for a series of public talks. This nation is very close to my heart. I trained as a mining geologist and spent three years in outback South Australia, before returning to academia.

The vacuum Trump has created on climate policy provides a chance for other countries to lead. Australia has much more to gain from the clean-energy future than it stands to lose – and your climate action could be pivotal.

The climate crisis: a long time coming

Scientists first warned against burning fossil fuels way back in the 1950s. When the US Clean Air Act was passed in 1970, the words “weather” and “climate” were included because scientists had already explained to Congress that carbon dioxide was a pollutant with serious — even dire — effects.

In the late 1980s, scientists at NASA observed changes in the climate system that could only be explained by the extra heating effect of atmospheric carbon dioxide. The predictions had become reality.

When George H.W. Bush ran successfully for president in 1988, he promised to use the power of the “White House effect” to fight the “greenhouse effect”. In 1992, Bush and other world leaders gathered in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, to sign the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. Together, 178 countries promised action to prevent “dangerous anthropogenic interference” with Earth’s climate. But that action never came.

Trump has undoubtedly been bad news for global climate action. He makes preposterous claims about science and is dismantling the federal agencies responsible for supporting climate science and maintaining climate data.

But the US has long failed to play its part in cutting dangerous greenhouse gas emissions. The reason for this lies largely outside the White House.

A long-running campaign of disinformation

The fossil fuel industry has known about climate change for as long as scientists have.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, scientists at Esso (later ExxonMobil) actively researched the topic, building climate models and coauthoring scientific papers.

The scientists informed their managers of the risk of catastrophic damage if the burning of oil, gas and coal continued unabated. They even suggested the company might need a different business model – one not so dependent on fossil fuels.

But managers at ExxonMobil made a fateful decision: to turn from information to disinformation. Working in tandem with other oil, gas and coal companies, as well as automobile and aluminium manufacturers, ExxonMobil launched an organised campaign, sustained over decades, to block climate action by casting doubt on the underlying science.

They ran ad campaigns in national and local newspapers insisting the science was too unsettled to warrant action. They created “astroturf” organisations that only pretended to be green, and funded “third-party allies” to argue that proposed remedies would be too expensive, cost jobs and damage the economy.

The company funded outlier scientists to publish papers claiming atmospheric warming was the result of natural climate variability. They pressured journalists to give equal time to “their side” of the story in the name of “balance”.

Over the next three decades, whenever any meaningful climate policy seemed to be gaining traction, the industry and its allies lobbied Congress and state legislatures to block it. So, neither Democratic nor Republican administrations were able to undertake meaningful climate action.

While people were dying in climate-charged floods and fires, the fossil fuel industry persuaded a significant proportion of the US population, including Trump, that the whole thing might just be a hoax.

Rise up Australia

In a matter of weeks after becoming president, Trump pulled out of the Paris Agreement to limit global warming, shut down government websites hosting climate data, and withdrew support for research that dares to mention the word “climate”.

This has created a vacuum that other countries, including Australia, can step up to fill.

Few countries have more to lose from climate change than Australia. The continent has already witnessed costly and devastating wildfires and floods — affecting remote areas and major cities. It’s not unreasonable to worry that in coming years, significant parts of Australia could become uninhabitable.

Like the US, Australia has a powerful fossil fuel industry that has disproportionately influenced its politics. Unlike the US, however, that industry is based mainly on coal for export, which Australians do not depend on in their daily lives.

And Australia is truly a lucky country. It has unsurpassed potential to replace fossil fuels with renewable energy.

More than 15 years ago, Australian researchers in the Zero Carbon Australia project offered a blueprint for how the country could eliminate fossil fuel use entirely. Since then, renewable energy has only become cheaper and more efficient.

South Australia has proved the point: the state was 100% reliant on fossil fuels for electricity in 2002, but now more than 70% comes from renewables.

Across Australia, the share of renewable electricity generation is growing. Victoria, New South Wales and Queensland are vying for second place after SA. It’s fascinating to watch the National Electricity Market balance supply and demand in real time, where a large proportion of the electricity comes from rooftop solar.

For decades, the fossil fuel industry has told the public our societies can’t manage without fossil fuels. Large parts of Australia have proved it’s just not so. The rest of the nation can follow that lead, and model the energy transition for the world. Here’s your chance.

Naomi Oreskes, Professor of the History of Science, Harvard University

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

Queensland is widely known as the land clearing capital of Australia. But what’s not so well known is many of the cleared trees can grow back naturally.

The latest state government figures show regrowth across more than 7.6 million hectares in Queensland in 2020-21. These trees, though young, still provide valuable habitat for many threatened species – as long as they’re not bulldozed again.

Our new research explored the benefits of regrowth for 30 threatened animal species in Queensland. We found regrown forests and woodlands provided valuable habitat and food for species after an average of 15 years. Some species were likely to benefit from trees as young as three years.

This presents an opportunity for governments to support landowners and encourage them to retain more regrowing forest and woodland, especially where it can provide much-needed habitat for wildlife. But it’s a challenge because there is strong pressure to clear regrowth, largely to maintain pasture.

When do young forests and woodlands become valuable habitat?

We focused on threatened animal species that depend on forests and woodlands, and occur in regions with substantial regrowth.

We wanted to find out which species use regrowth, and how old the trees need to be. But there’s not much survey data available on threatened species living in naturally regenerated forest and woodlands.

To elicit this information we asked almost 50 experts to complete a detailed questionnaire and attend a workshop.

We found 15 years was the average minimum age at which regrowth became useful to threatened species. But the full range was 3-68 years, depending on factors such as what a species eats, how it moves through the landscape and whether it needs tree hollows for shelter or breeding.

For example, one threatened bird (the squatter pigeon) could use woodlands as young as three years old. Koalas benefited from regrowth as young as nine years old.

Some species, such as the greater glider, need much older forests. This is because they require large tree hollows to shelter in during the day, and large trees to feed on and move between at night.

So young forests shouldn’t be seen as an alternative to protecting old forests. We need both.

Understanding the extent of habitat loss

We also estimated the proportion of each species’ current habitat that comprises regrowth, using satellite data and publicly available data.

For some species, we found regrowth made up almost a third of their potential habitat in Queensland. On average, it was 18%.

However, nearly three-quarters of the habitat lost in Queensland since 2018 was regrowth forests and woodlands. So while the loss of older, “remnant” vegetation is more damaging per unit area, the regrowth habitat is being lost on a bigger scale.

Our research suggests retaining more regrowth could be an easy and cost-effective way to help save threatened species.

In contrast, tree planting is time-consuming and expensive. What’s more, only 10% of our native plants are readily available as seeds for sale. This, combined with more extreme weather such as prolonged droughts, often causes restoration projects to fail.

Encouraging landholders to retain regrowth

The fact that habitat can regrow naturally in parts of Queensland is a huge bonus. But farmers also need to maintain productivity, which can decrease if there’s too much regrowth.

So, how do we help these landowners retain more regrowth?

One way is to provide incentives. For example, government-funded biodiversity stewardship schemes provide payments to cover the costs of managing the vegetation – such as fencing off habitat and managing weeds – as well as compensation for loss of agricultural production. Targeting areas of regrowth with high habitat values could be a way for such schemes to benefit wildlife.

Alternatively, market-based schemes allow landowners to generate biodiversity or carbon “credits” by keeping more trees on their property. Then, businesses (or governments) buy these credits. For example, some big emitters in Australia have to purchase carbon credits to “offset” their own emissions.

However, Australia’s carbon market has been accused of issuing “low integrity” carbon credits. This means the carbon credits were paid for projects that may not have captured and stored the amount of carbon they were supposed to. To make sure these markets work, robust methods are needed – and until now, there hasn’t been one that worked to retain regrowth.

Trees are good for the land, air and sea

In February, the Queensland government released a method by which landholders could generate carbon credits by agreeing not to clear their regrowing woodlands and forests.

The new carbon method provides a promising opportunity to allow landowners to diversify their farm income.

In addition, tree cover brings direct, on-farm benefits such as more shade and shelter for livestock, natural pest control and better soil health.

At a landscape level, greater tree cover can improve local climate regulation, reduce sediment run-off to the Great Barrier Reef and reduce Australia’s carbon emissions.

Ideally, Australia’s carbon and biodiversity markets would work alongside sufficient government funding for nature recovery, which needs to increase to at least 1% (currently it’s around 0.1%).

Meanwhile, our research has shown embracing natural regeneration potential in Queensland will have benefits for a range of threatened species too.

We acknowledge our research coauthors, Jeremy Simmonds (2rog Consulting), Michelle Ward (Griffith University) and Teresa Eyre (Queensland Department of Environment, Tourism, Science and Innovation).

Hannah Thomas, PhD candidate in Environmental Policy, The University of Queensland and Martine Maron, Professor of Environmental Management, The University of Queensland

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

A new state-of-the-art tube fishway technology called the “Fishheart” has been launched at Menindee Lakes, located on the Baaka-Darling River, New South Wales.

The technology – part of the NSW government’s Restoring the Darling-Baaka program – will allow native fish to move past large barriers, such as dams, weirs and regulators, when they need to. It’s hoped this will help the fish reproduce and survive, and reduce the risk of mass fish deaths in the Baaka.

At the same time, meaningful policy reform and implementation can’t be achieved without input from First Nations communities. So how do we do this? One creative collaboration on the Fishheart project suggests art may have a big role to play.

Distressing images

Several deeply distressing mass fish death events have occurred in the river since 2018, with millions of native fish, including golden perch, silver perch and Murray cod, dying due to insufficient oxygen in the water.

These events are the outcome of compounding challenges in managing the Murray-Darling Basin, Australia’s largest inland river system. The basin, which stretches from Southern Queensland to South Australia, is a water source for some three million people.

But the construction of infrastructure such as dams, weirs and regulators has profoundly disrupted the natural processes that once sustained healthy river systems. This disruption has been made worse by ineffective and conflict-ridden governance.

The Baaka is a source of life and wellbeing for numerous communities. It should be cared for with the same urgency and coordination as a critically ill patient. If too many doctors or nurses are involved without a clear shared treatment plan, the patient suffers. Likewise, when multiple agencies attempt to manage a sick river, the system can break down.

So how can better care be achieved? For Barkindji Elder David Doyle the answer lies in doing it together.

Seeking and listening to Aboriginal community

Aboriginal peoples have been explaining the importance of Australia’s inland rivers for generations. The Aboriginal community at Menindee held protests about the health of the Baaka two years before the first mass fish deaths. Yet their voices and cultural knowledges have not reconfigured river policy.

A report by the NSW Office of the Chief Scientist and Engineer into the March 2023 mass fish deaths on the Lower Baaka identified the importance of including Aboriginal cultural knowledges in strategies for fish species regeneration and management.

However, according to Barkindji Ngnukuu elder Barbara Quayle, the community’s experience of “consultation” has been a tick-box activity. She says there is no trust that cultural knowledges or community perspectives will actually be listened to.

The power of the arts

Traditional cultural knowledges are often held and expressed through various artforms, from story, to dance, to gallery arts. Within rural and remote communities, the arts and art-making create conditions that can help people work together to address complex issues. In fact, there’s a long history of the arts being used to address social conflict.

Can the Fishheart help prevent fish kills? We don’t know. But the Barkindji community’s artistic input in the project is enabling a more integrated approach to finding out.

Elders and community members have come together with regional arts organisation, The Cad Factory, and the NSW Department of Primary Industries and Regional Development’s Fisheries branch, to design traditional knowledge-inspired art for the Fishheart pipes.

This art was painted onto the pipes by members of Barkindji community over the past month. Other community art, including collaborations with the local school, was also placed around the site.

Making the art gave everyone involved the time, space and tools to consider and discuss the project. We learned how the Fishheart technology is inspired by the human heart, with tubes resembling “veins” and “arteries” that can take fish in and “pump” them over barriers through a siphon effect, letting them circulate throughout the river.

We discussed important details on how this technology works, which includes using artificial intelligence used to detect fish in the pipes and collect real-time data and photos of the migration. We also considered how we might further care for the river, by potentially allowing the removal of invasive species, or monitoring for diseases.

The project also provided fisheries managers with the opportunity to hear community concerns, such as whether the installation of fishways might be perceived in ways associated with colonisation, or eventually lead to fish removal from the waterways.

Most importantly, seeing the pipes visually transformed by Barkindji art connected the Fishheart to place and Country. The art provides a tangible expression of uninterrupted Barkindji custodianship for the river and the species that depend on it.

With art, there is hope for creating policy together – policy that might promote the health of the river as a whole, rather than treating the symptoms of the problem.

Claire Hooker, Senior Lecturer and Coordinator, Health and Medical Humanities, University of Sydney; Barbara Quayle, Vice-president of the Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council, Indigenous Knowledge; Dave Doyle, Barkindji/Malyangapa Indigenous Knowledge holder, Indigenous Knowledge, and Reakeeta Smallwood, Senior Lecturer in Nursing, Indigenous and Population health, University of Sydney

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

Australia’s honeybees are facing an exceptional crisis. The tiny but devastating foreign pest Varroa destructor is steadily spreading across the country.

The mite feeds on baby bees (larvae), weakening them. It can also spread viruses that eventually destroy entire bee colonies.

Efforts to contain its spread have failed, so it looks like Australia must learn to live with this parasite.

What’s worse, Varroa destructor isn’t acting alone. In many parts of New South Wales, the mite’s arrival appears to have triggered a surge in another destructive pest: the small hive beetle (Aethina tumida).

A wet summer in the east has created ideal conditions for beetle outbreaks. This combination is putting enormous pressure on bees and beekeepers alike. Here’s how to help support the bee industry and, if you’re a backyard beekeeper, defend your hives against attack.

Know your enemy

Varroa was first detected in Australia at the NSW Port of Newcastle in June 2022.

The mite is now widely established in NSW and in Queensland between Toowoomba and Brisbane.

It was detected in Victoria, North-West of Melbourne in February and the ACT earlier this month.

In September 2023, Australian authorities acknowledged eradication was no longer possible. The focus shifted to long-term management.

A slimy accomplice

The varroa invasion appears to be making hives more susceptible to the small hive beetle (Aethina tumida). This species arrived in 2002.

The beetle thrives in warm, humid conditions and lays its eggs inside hives. The larvae feed on honey and wax, turning once-thriving hives into a foul, fermented mess. Beekeepers call this a “slime-out” — and it’s just as bad as it sounds.

The deadly one-two punch

A healthy bee colony can usually defend itself against beetles. But when bees are weakened by varroa mites, they’re far less capable of resisting a beetle invasion.

This deadly one-two punch has already devastated many beekeepers in NSW. One commercial beekeeper reported:

I had large infestations of mites. And then following the mite, I got the boom of the hive beetles. I probably lost 30 hives to beetles.

What to do if you suspect an infestation?

The number of registered recreational beekeepers in Australia is growing. In 2019, there were around 27,800 registered hobbyists. By 2023, that number had jumped to over 47,000. Backyard beekeepers also contribute A$260 million to the economy.

Varroa represents a major threat to every Australian honey producer, so here’s a few tips.

Inspect your hives at least once a month. If larvae appear to be tunnelling through honeycomb, or the honey appears fermented, these are signs beetles may be present.

It’s difficult to detect mites visually, especially when there are few mites present. That’s where monitoring techniques come in. Typically, 300 bees are placed in ethanol or icing sugar and shaken until mites fall off. This allows beekeepers to not only detect the mites but also to count them.

Report mites to the relevant state authorities. Failure to do so can result in fines.

Immediately treat the infested hive and move it at least ten metres away from any others.

Chemicals called miticides can kill varroa mites and knock the population down. But some beekeepers report side effects, including queen loss, so be prepared to replace queens.

Mites may develop resistance to these treatments over time, as one commercial beekeeper from NSW said:

We’ve experienced a lot of queenless hives. I don’t know whether that’s from treatments […] it might be just coincidence, but I’m hearing a lot of other beekeepers having the same problem.

Varroa mites feed on bee larvae, so caging the queen and taking a short break from brood production can reduce the mite population. Mites prefer male bee larvae, so removing these can help.

These control methods are effective, though labour-intensive, and potentially suitable for backyard beekeepers. They can lessen the need for chemical treatments — slowing the evolution of resistance to miticides.

Protection against mites and beetles

To prevent your backyard hives being infested by mites or beetles:

• keep colonies well fed, so they don’t rob other colonies and catch their parasites

• help bees recognise hives, so they don’t enter the wrong colony with varroa mites on their back (paint hives, space them apart by a few meters, ideally 10m)

• reduce the size of hive entrances to help bees block access to intruders

• regularly check that your beetle traps are still working, as bees often block the holes that let the beetles into the traps with tree resin

• fill the cracks where beetles hide.

How consumers can help

Australians can support the nation’s beekeepers in a few simple ways. Buy 100% Australian honey and hive products from trusted, local sources.

Sugar can easily be swapped for honey in most recipes and honey is a great way to sweeten tea.

When substituting sugar for honey, it’s worth noting honey tastes sweeter so you might want to use less. Honey also contains 18% water, so you may need to reduce the amounts of other liquids in cake recipes accordingly.

Avoid imported honey and bee products to reduce the chance of bringing bee viruses into the country. Not all imported bee products are treated to kill bee viruses.

Finally, planting pollinator-friendly gardens helps to feed local bees.

Safeguarding an industry and a popular hobby

As well as backyard hobbyists, Australia’s beekeeping community includes 1,872 large-scale commercial beekeepers.

Many fear mites will push beekeepers out of business. Protecting the industry requires a shift in mindset, from emergency response to long-term pest management.

With good science, community support and adaptive management, beekeepers — both commercial and backyard — can weather the storm.

Cornelia Sattler, Research Fellow in Ecology & Videographer, Macquarie University and Théotime Colin, Post-doctoral Researcher in Bee Ecology, Macquarie University

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

Of the more than 20,000 bee species in the world, 70% nest in the ground. And like many of their counterparts that nest above ground, these bees are facing rapid population declines.

But while there has been research into providing habitat for above-ground cavity-nesting bees, the nesting ecology of ground-nesting bees remains largely understudied.

This gap in knowledge is concerning. For one, these bees play a crucial role in ecosystems. For another, ground-nesting bee habitats are threatened by land degradation, urbanisation, pesticides and agricultural expansion.

Our recent study addresses this research gap. Published this week in Austral Entomology, it examines the soil type preferences of ground-nesting bees and provides a simple, practical approach to enhancing their habitats.

A high diversity of native bees

Australia hosts a high diversity of native bees found nowhere else in the world – more than 1,600 scientifically named species.

Lasioglossum (Homalictus) dotatum is a small, ground-nesting bee species native to Australia. It measures approximately 3–4 mm.

Unlike the introduced European honey bee (Apis mellifera), which lives in large, highly organised colonies with complex social structures, L. dotatum exhibits an “apartment living” social structure, with independent nests situated close to one another. This aggregation behaviour indicates certain environmental or habitat features that are necessary for the species to thrive.

This species is widely distributed across mainland Australia. It nests in a range of sandy soil types. Because of this, it offers a valuable opportunity to examine how different environmental conditions shape its nesting preferences.

A prolific pollinator

A key feature of the nests of this species is the presence of small conical mounds of excavated soil, known as tumuli, which surround the entrance. These mounds can resemble small ant hills. As a result, the nests are sometimes mistaken for ant nests, leading to accidental pesticide application and destruction of the bees’ habitats.

This bee is also known to visit a range of plants of ecological importance, which makes understanding its role in ecosystems essential. It has been recorded visiting the flowers of jarrah, marri and yarri trees – all of which are vital for maintaining biodiversity and supporting wildlife in southwestern Australia.

Lasioglossum dotatum has also been observed in avocado orchards, a crop of significant economic value in Western Australia.

While it remains uncertain whether L. dotatum is a major crop pollinator, its presence in these orchards suggests it could play a supplementary role in pollination. This potentially makes it an intriguing subject for research exploring native alternatives to honey bees (Apis mellifera) for crop pollination.

Understanding bees’ nesting preferences

Our research focused on understanding the nesting preferences of L. dotatum. The study sought to explore how environmental features, such as soil type and surface cover, influenced where these bees chose to nest.

Specifically, the study tested whether L. dotatum preferred bare sand or rock gravel as a nesting substrate.

The study also examined whether the cleanliness of the sand – whether steam-treated or left untreated — impacted the bees’ nesting decisions.

The study used artificial nesting pots filled with sand from the Swan Coastal Plain, a region known for its sandy soils, to simulate nesting conditions around active bee aggregations. During the summer nesting season of February 2022, researchers monitored how the bees interacted with these artificial nesting sites, using the number of nest entrances (or tumuli) as a measure of nesting activity.

Getting into the gravel

Our study found L. dotatum strongly preferred nesting in pots covered with rock gravel over those with bare sand. This preference likely arises from the benefits provided by rock gravel, such as improved moisture retention, temperature regulation, and protection from predators.

The experimental pots with rock gravel had significantly more nest entrances. This indicated that rock cover helps create a more stable and favourable microhabitat for nesting.

The bees also showed a preference for steam-treated sand, suggesting that factors such as microbial contaminants or organic residues in untreated soil may deter nesting.

Interestingly, when the rock gravel was removed, many nests were found concealed beneath the gravel. This highlights the importance of rock cover in enhancing nest stability and reducing the risk of disturbance.

A simple, practical approach to conservation

These findings have important implications for native bee conservation, particularly in urban and agricultural areas.

The preference for rock gravel suggests that incorporating this material into urban landscapes could improve nesting conditions for ground-nesting bees such as L. dotatum.

By creating spaces for these ground nesting bees, we can better support these vital pollinators.

As native bees continue to face habitat loss and degradation, these findings provide a simple, practical approach to enhancing their habitats, ultimately contributing to more sustainable pollinator populations in urban and rural settings alike.

Freya Marie Jackson, PhD Candidate, School of Veterinary and Life Sciences, Murdoch University; Giles Hardy, Professor in Forest Pathology, Murdoch University; Kit Prendergast, Postdoctoral Researcher, Pollination Ecology, University of Southern Queensland, and Wei Xu, Associate Professor in Entomology, Murdoch University

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

The UN’s International Maritime Organization has just agreed to start charging ships for the greenhouse gases they emit. After decades of ineffective incremental tweaks to shipping emissions, the breakthrough came on April 11 at a summit in London. It makes shipping the first industry subject to a worldwide – and legally binding – emissions price.

The positive spin is that getting any sort of deal is a major win for multilateral climate action, especially considering two strong headwinds.

From within the meeting, there was sustained opposition to ambitious action from Saudi Arabia and other petrostates, as well as from China and Brazil. Second, the US had already disengaged from negotiations. Even so, from outside the meeting, the US administration’s tariff war and explicit threat to retaliate against states supporting a shipping pricing regime could have affected talks far more than they did.

But we’re not sure that this agreement can be considered a success. While there is little traditional climate change denial at the IMO, “mitigation denial” is alive and kicking. Mitigation denial means making lofty promises, often in line with scientific evidence, but not adopting concrete measures able to deliver on these targets. This is exactly what petrostates pushed the IMO to do last week.

Ultimately, the IMO has well and truly failed the most climate vulnerable, by favouring a more gradual and less certain transition to low-carbon shipping. It’s even effectively making these countries pay the price.

What are the measures?

The IMO agreement introduces a global fuel standard for shipping, with financial penalties for ships that don’t meet emissions targets. This is effectively a carbon-trading scheme.

It sets two targets, both of which get tougher every year: a “base” level and a stricter “direct compliance” level. Ships that miss the direct target have to buy “remedial units”, and more expensive ones if they also fail the base level. Ships that go beyond their targets earn “surplus units”, which they can trade or save for up to two years.

In practice, this means that the companies and countries that can invest in new technologies will earn a double dividend: they won’t pay for emissions and they will receive rewards for using low-emission fuels.

At the same time, countries and shipping companies lacking the means to invest will effectively subsidise those early movers by paying penalties that reward them. Hardly any revenues will be available for the promised “just and equitable” transition that would ensure no country is left behind. No wonder nearly all delegates from vulnerable Pacific nations abstained from the vote at the IMO.

For a typical ship burning heavy fuel oil in 2028, it works out at around US$25 (£19) per tonne of greenhouse gas. That’s far lower than needed to drive a rapid transition to cleaner fuels. We also still don’t know exactly how the money raised will be used.

Delegates also agreed to update the IMO’s “carbon intensity” policy, which now requires ships to be 21.5% more fuel efficient by 2030 compared to 2019. This is a modest 2.5% improvement per year.

Pacific island states and the UK were among those arguing for bigger cuts (up to 47%). China pushed for 15% and the EU proposed the surprisingly low 23%. The final result of 21.5% is a bad compromise that does not reflect scientific recommendations on meeting the IMO’s goals or what is possible with available technology.

Climate action at the IMO

This geopolitical struggle goes back decades. Following the adoption of the Kyoto protocol (a precursor of the Paris agreement) in 1997, the UN tasked the IMO with reducing shipping emissions. After two decades of little progress, in 2018 the IMO eventually set a weak target to cut emissions by 50% from 2008 levels. In 2023, that goal was strengthened to net-zero emissions “by or around 2050”, with interim targets of 20-30% cuts by 2030 and 70-80% by 2040.

Most importantly, the 2023 strategy also committed to adopting legally binding measures in April 2025 to deliver on these targets. This has now happened.

In light of that history, the new measures do constitute progress. However, their success has to be judged on whether they can actually meet the IMO’s targets.

The 2030 goal is especially important as climate damage is proportional to cumulative emissions over time, so it’s important to cut emissions as soon as possible. If the shipping sector misses its 2030 target, it may have emitted too much carbon to still make a fair contribution to the Paris agreement.

Academics at UCL have analysed the new IMO agreement. Unfortunately, they calculated the new policies will only deliver a 10% reduction by 2030 – that’s not even close to the 20% goal the IMO set, let alone the “strive” target of 30%.

Mitigation denial?

At the IMO’s closing meeting, Harry Conway, chair of its Marine Environment Protection Committee, held up a glass of water and remarked that at the start of the week, the glass was empty, now the glass is half full.

As political spin, that image might work. But when it comes to setting a clear and ambitious path forward, the measures fall well short.

The 2023 strategy committed nations to “strive” to deliver 30% emissions cuts by 2030. Last week’s meeting might yield 10%. Another reason why Pacific delegates abstained from voting. There is a lot more striving – and delivering – to be done.

A credible pathway to reach net-zero by 2050 is now at risk. Strong pushback by the US, Saudi Arabia, China and Brazil, and weak leadership from the EU all played a role. Even adopting these modest measures – which requires a vote in October – and specifying operational “guidelines” afterwards will be an uphill battle.

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Christiaan De Beukelaer, Senior Lecturer in Culture & Climate, The University of Melbourne and Simon Bullock, Research Associate, Shipping and Climate Change, University of Manchester

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

The U.S. Supreme Court in March 2025 ended a decade-old lawsuit filed by a group of children who sought to hold the federal government responsible for some of the consequences of climate change. But just two months earlier, the justices allowed a similar suit from the city and county of Honolulu, Hawaii, to continue against oil and gas companies.

Evidence shows that fossil fuel companies, electric utilities and the federal government have known about climate change, its dangers and its human causes for at least 50 years. But the steps taken by fossil fuel companies, utilities and governments, including the U.S. government, have not been enough to meet international climate targets.

So local and state governments and citizens have asked the courts to force companies and public agencies to act. Their results have varied, with limited victories to date. But the cases keep coming.

Attacking the emissions themselves

In general, legal claims in the U.S. can be based on the U.S. and state constitutions, federal and state laws, or what is called “common law” – legal principles created by courts over time.

Lawsuits have used state and federal laws to try to limit greenhouse gas pollution itself and to seek financial compensation for alleged industry cover-ups of the dangers of fossil fuels, among many other types of claims.

In 2007 the U.S. Supreme Court determined that greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide emitted from motor vehicles were a “pollutant” under the federal Clean Air Act. As a result, the court ordered the Environmental Protection Agency to either determine whether greenhouse gases from new vehicles contribute to climate change, and therefore endanger human health, or justify its refusal to study the issue.

In 2009 the EPA found that carbon dioxide emissions did in fact endanger human health – a decision called the “endangerment finding.” In 2010 it imposed limits on carbon dioxide emissions from new vehicles and, later, from newly constructed power plants.

But related EPA efforts to regulate emissions from older power plants – the ones that emit the most pollution – failed when challenged in court on the grounds that they went too far in limiting emissions beyond the power plants’ own properties.

The Biden administration had finalized a new rule to clean up these older plants, but the Trump administration is now seeking to withdraw it.

The Trump administration is also now beginning the complicated process of reviewing the 2009 endangerment finding. It could try to remove the legal basis for EPA greenhouse gas regulations.

A common-law approach

In response to this federal executive seesaw of climate action, some legal claims use a court-based, or common law, approach to address climate concerns. For instance, in Connecticut v. American Electric Power, filed in 2004, nine states asked a federal judge to order power plants to reduce their emissions. The states said those emissions contributed to global warming, which they argued met the federal common law definition of a “public nuisance.”

That case ended when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 2011 that the existence of a statute – the federal Clean Air Act – meant common law did not apply. Other plaintiffs have tried to use the “public nuisance” claim or a related common-law claim of “trespass” to force large power plants or oil and gas producers to pay climate-related damages. But in those cases, too, courts found that the Clean Air Act overrode the common-law grounds for those claims.

With those case outcomes, many plaintiffs have shifted their strategies, focusing more on state courts and seeking to hold the fossil fuel industry responsible for allegedly deceiving the public about the causes and effects of climate change.

Examining deception

In many cases, state and local governments are arguing that the fossil fuel industry knew about the dangers of climate change and deceived the public about them, and that the industry exaggerated the extent of its investments in energy that doesn’t emit carbon.

Rather than directly asking courts to order reduced carbon emissions, these cases tend to seek damages that will help governments cover the costs associated with climate change, such as construction of cooling centers and repair of roads damaged by increased precipitation.

In legal terms, the lawsuits are saying oil and gas companies violated consumer-protection laws and committed common-law civil violations such as negligence. For instance, the city of Chicago alleges that major petroleum giants – along with the industry trade association the American Petroleum Institute – had “abundant knowledge” of the public harms of fossil fuels yet “actively campaigned” to hide that information and deceive consumers. Many other complaints by states and local governments make similar allegations.

Another lawsuit, from the state of Maine, lists and provides photographs of a litany of internal industry documents showing industry knowledge of the threat of climate change. That lawsuit also cites a 1977 memo from an Exxon employee to Exxon executives, which stated that “current scientific opinion overwhelmingly favors attributing atmospheric carbon dioxide increase to fossil fuel consumption,” and a 1979 internal Exxon memo about the buildup of carbon dioxide emissions, which warned that “(t)he potential problem is great and urgent.”

These complaints also show organizations supported by fossil fuel companies published ads as far back as the 1990s, with titles such as “Apocalypse No” and “Who told you the earth was warming … Chicken Little?” Some of these ads – part of a broader campaign – were funded by a group called the Information Council for the Environment, supported by coal producers and electric utilities.

Courts have dismissed some of these complaints, finding that federal laws overrule the principles those suits are based on. But many are still winding their way through the courts.

In 2023 the Supreme Court of Hawaii found that federal laws do not prevent climate claims based on state common law. In January 2025 the U.S. Supreme Court allowed the case to continue.

Other approaches

Still other litigation approaches argue that governments inadequately reviewed the effects of greenhouse gas emissions, or even supported or subsidized those emissions caused by private industry. Those lawsuits – some of which were filed by children, with help from their parents or legal guardians – claim the governments’ actions violated people’s constitutional rights.

For instance, children in the Juliana v. United States case, first filed in 2015, said 50 years of petroleum-supporting actions by presidents and various federal agencies had violated their fundamental “right to a climate system capable of sustaining human life.” The 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that their claim was a “political question” – meant for Congress, not the courts. The U.S. Supreme Court declined to reconsider that ruling in March 2025.

But children in Montana found more success. The Montana Constitution requires state officials and all residents to “maintain and improve a clean and healthful environment … for present and future generations.” In 2024 the Montana Supreme Court determined that this provision “includes a stable climate system that sustains human lives and liberties.”

The Montana Supreme Court also reviewed a state law banning officials from considering greenhouse gas emissions of projects approved by the state. The court found that the ban violated the state constitution, too. Since then, the Montana Supreme Court has specifically required state officials to review the climate effects of a project for which permits were challenged.

Concerned people and groups continue to file climate-related lawsuits across the country and around the world. They are seeing mixed results, but as the cases continue and more are filed, they are drawing attention to potential corporate and government wrongdoing, as well as the human costs of climate change. And they are inspiring shareholders and citizens to demand more accurate information and action from fossil fuel companies and electric utilities.

Hannah Wiseman, Professor of Law, Penn State

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

In an old-growth longleaf pine savanna, the absurdly long pine needles sing in the wind. Once considered forests, these landscapes in the southeastern U.S. coastal plain are open-canopied and sunny, more grassland than forest, with underbrush kept clear by frequent fires.

Longleaf pines – their needles can be up to 18 inches long – are among the longest-lived trees in eastern North America, surpassing 500 years if they are lucky enough to escape lightning strikes from the region’s frequent thunderstorms. Almost more fascinating is the ground cover, with up to 50 species per square meter, including some plants that are thousands of years old, with the vast majority of their biomass below ground. Picture an underground forest.

In the American West, there are other types of old-growth forest. Dry ponderosa pine woodlands are similarly open in structure and contain trees up to nearly 1,000 years old. But perhaps the most familiar old-growth forests are the complex, wet old-growth forests of the Pacific Northwest, which stretch from northwestern California to southeastern Alaska.

These forests, which contain Douglas fir, coast redwood, western hemlock, western red cedar, Sitka spruce and many other tree species, have been compared to cathedrals, providing an otherworldly experience of gigantic, ancient trees festooned with mosses and lichens and with fallen trees strewn like buses across the forest floor.

I’m fortunate to have lived among and studied both southeastern pine savannas and Pacific Northwest conifer forests. The contrast between them could not be greater. And there are many other old-growth forests across the continent – including northeastern spruce fir and northern hardwoods forests, Great Lakes red pine and jack pine woodlands, southern Appalachian mixed mesophytic forests, and Great Basin bristlecone pines reaching nearly 5,000 years old. Each of these forests has a unique ecology, but all are under threat from human activity and climate change.

I recently co-authored a research paper with two colleagues and my collaborator, Carlos Carroll, who is a conservation biologist at the Klamath Center for Conservation Research. In it, we explain that there are some key reasons it’s so difficult to conserve the nation’s varied old-growth landscapes.

In general, the challenge is that it’s possible to conceive of all these areas as a single group – old growth landscapes – where large, old trees dominate the canopy but where small-scale disturbances such as treefall gaps create a mosaic of age classes. Foresters often call this an “uneven-age forest.”

But they really constitute a wide range of landscapes with different, often unique needs for protection, restoration and management. For example, in some old-growth forests, the trees live thousands of years, whereas in others the maximum lifespan of the dominant tree species is much less, sometimes only around 200 years. And some old-growth forests have abundant deadwood, both standing and on the ground, whereas others are kept largely clear of deadwood by frequent fires.

Widely different local conditions

Large, old trees can be removed quickly but require hundreds of years to be replaced. When seeking to balance conservation goals with other priorities, including local economic needs, some foresters use a method called “thinning,” in which wooded areas aren’t clear-cut completely. Instead, only some trees are cut down. This can involve cutting smaller, younger trees while protecting older trees from logging – but at times it has included logging older trees as well. Even if it spares old trees, though, thinning can still harm biodiversity and old-growth ecosystems.

But it isn’t always clear how old a tree must be to protect it from logging. Some conservationists argue that the rules should protect some or all forests that are considered mature – say, 80 or so years old – but not yet old growth. As those stands of trees age, they will become old growth, taking the place of trees logged in the past.

However, a rule as simple as sparing trees above a certain age is not necessarily best for every old-growth region. In longleaf pine savannas, for instance, the standard practice of rapidly extinguishing wildfires has meant hardwood trees typically associated with denser, moister forests have grown up amid the pines. Some threatened species, such as the red-cockaded woodpecker, has adapted to survive only in areas that are extensive open-canopy, old-growth pine savannas with few hardwoods.

Restoration of those forests may require cutting down the invading hardwoods, even if they are decades old, as well as using fire to manage the resulting pine-dominated landscape. In some other types of old-growth forests, careful use of fire may be enough to restore the ecosystem without cutting any trees.

Long-term and short-term at the same time

A key challenge for protecting old-growth areas is the importance of balancing immediate risks with long-term needs, considering how ecosystems change as trees age and die, and across larger areas such as watersheds.

Old-growth forests are rare – less than 7% of the area of U.S. forests today – and are still often logged. To recover forest ecosystems across the U.S., it will not be enough to protect just old-growth areas.

Especially valuable for biodiversity are areas of regenerating forests that grow after fires or other disturbances such as windstorms, in places where live and dead trees in the disturbed forests have not been cut. These disturbed forests provide habitats for species associated with more open conditions. Many woodpeckers, epitomized by the black-backed woodpecker in western North America, depend on conditions created by severe fires.

Observing the broader value

Beyond trees, there are many species of plants and animals that depend on old-growth landscapes. Perhaps most famous among them are the red-cockaded woodpecker of the southeastern U.S. and the northern spotted owl of the Pacific Northwest.

Those plants’ and animals’ needs can give conservationists and ecologists insights into what territory is most useful to preserve, not just for the trees but for the larger ecosystem. That includes finding ways to connect conservation areas across the landscape so life can grow and spread.

Efforts to preserve old-growth landscapes protect more than just the trees. These forests also store carbon, keeping it out of the atmosphere where it drives climate change. They help provide clean water for people and aquatic ecosystems, along with space for recreation, reflection and other cultural activities.

Ecological science cannot resolve the debates about how to prioritize and preserve old-growth forest. But it can help inform the public about the rising costs of doing nothing, and of the wide benefits of maintaining, recovering and restoring functioning old-growth ecosystems.

Carlos Carroll, a conservation biologist at the Klamath Center for Conservation Research, also contributed to this article.

Reed Frederick Noss, Conservation Science Coordinator, University of Florida

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

For millennia, humans lived as hunter-gatherers. Savannas and forests are often thought of as the cradle of our lineage, but beneath the waves, a habitat exists that has quietly supported humans for over 180,000 years.

Archaeological evidence suggests that early humans migrated along coasts, avoiding desert and tundra. So, as Homo spread from Africa, they inevitably encountered seagrasses – flowering plants evolved to inhabit shallow coastal environments that form undersea meadows teeming with life.

Our recently published research pieces together historical evidence from across the globe, revealing that humans and seagrass meadows have been intertwined for millennia – providing food, fishing grounds, building materials, medicine and more throughout our shared history.

Our earliest known links to seagrass date back around 180,000 years. Tiny seagrass-associated snails were discovered in France at Paleolithic cave sites used by Neanderthals. Too small to be a consequence of food remains, these snails were likely introduced with Posidonia oceanica leaves used for bedding – a type of seagrass found only in the Mediterranean. Neanderthals didn’t just use seagrass to make sleeping comfortable – 120,000 year old evidence suggests they harvested seagrass-associated scallops too.

A bountiful supply of food

Seagrass meadows provide shelter and food for marine life, such as fish, invertebrates, reptiles and marine mammals. Because they inhabit shallow waters close to shore, seagrass meadows have been natural fishing grounds and places where generations have speared, cast nets, set traps and hand-gathered food to survive and thrive.

Long before modern fishing fleets, ancient communities recognised the value of these underwater grasslands. Around 6,000 years ago, the people of eastern Arabia depended on seagrass meadows to hunt rabbitfish – a practice so prevalent here that remnants of their fishing traps are still visible from space.

Seagrass meadows have even been directly harvested as food. Around 12,000 years ago, some of the first human cultures in North America, settling on Isla Cedros off the coast of Baja California, gathered and consumed seeds from Zostera marina, a species commonly called eelgrass. These seeds were milled into a flour and baked into breads and cakes, a process alike to wheat milling today.

Further north, the Indigenous Kwakwaka’wakw peoples, as far back as 10,000 years ago, developed a careful and sustainable way of gathering eelgrass for consumption. By twisting a pole into the seagrass, they pulled up the leaves, and broke them off near the rhizome – the underground stem that is rich in sugary carbohydrates. After removing the roots and outer leaves, they wrapped the youngest leaves around the rhizome, dipping it in oil before eating. Remarkably, this method was later found to promote seagrass health, encouraging new growth and resilience.

Today, seagrass meadows remain a lifeline for coastal communities, particularly across the Indian and Pacific Oceans. Here, fishing within seagrass habitats is shown to be more reliable than other coastal habitats and women often sustain their families by gleaning – a fishing practice that involves carefully combing seagrass meadows for edible shells and other marine life. For these communities, seagrass fishing is vital during periods when fishing at sea is not possible, for example, during tropical storms.

When seagrasses returned to the sea around 100 million years ago, they evolved to have specialised leaves to tolerate both saltwater submergence and periods of time exposed to the sun during tidal cycles. This allowed seagrasses to flourish across our coastlines, but also made them useful resources for humans.

Seagrass leaves, once dry, are relatively moist- and rot-proof – properties likely discovered by ancient civilisations when exploring the uses of plants for different purposes. Bronze age civilizations like the Minoans, used seagrass in building construction, reinforcing mudbricks with seagrass. Analysis of these reveal superior thermal properties of seagrass mudbricks compared to bricks made with other plant fibres – they kept buildings warmer in winter and cooler in summer.

These unique properties may have been why early humans used seagrass for bedding and by the 16th century, seagrass-stuffed mattresses were prized for pest resistance, requested even by Pope Julius III.

By the 17th century, Europeans were using seagrass to thatch roofs and insulate their homes. North American colonialists took this knowledge with them, continuing the practice. In the 19th century, commercial harvesting of tens of thousands of tonnes of seagrass began across North America and northern Europe.

In the US, Boston’s Samuel Cabot Company patented an insulation material called Cabot’s “Quilt”, sandwiching dried seagrass leaves between two layers of paper. These quilts were used to insulate buildings across the US, including New York’s Rockefeller Center and the Capitol in Washington DC.

A legacy ecosystem – and a living one

The prevalence of seagrass throughout human civilisation has fostered spiritual and cultural relations with these underwater gardens, manifesting in rituals and historical customs. In Neolithic graves in Denmark, scientists found human remains wrapped in seagrass, representing a close connection with the sea.

Our new research tells us that seagrass meadows are not just biodiversity hotspots or carbon storage systems. They are ancient human allies. This elevates their value beyond conservation – they’re repositories of cultural heritage and traditional knowledge. They were practical, valuable, and deeply integrated into human cultures.

We have depended on seagrass for 180,000 years – for food, homes, customs – so investing in their conservation and restoration is not just ecological, it’s deeply human.

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Benjamin Jones, Chief Conservation Officer, Project Seagrass & Research Affiliate, Swansea University; Nicole R Foster, Postdoctoral Researcher, Marine Science, Centro de Estudios Avanzados de Blanes (CEAB-CSIC), and Oscar Serrano, Principal Researcher, Coastal Ecology, Centro de Estudios Avanzados de Blanes (CEAB-CSIC)

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

Nearly 17% of the world’s croplands are contaminated with “heavy metals”, according to a new study in Science. These contaminants – arsenic, cadmium, lead, and others – may be invisible to the eye, but they threaten food safety and human health.

Heavy metals and metalloids are elements that originate from either natural or human-made sources. They’re called “heavy” because they’re physically dense and their weight is high at an atomic scale.

Heavy metals do not break down. They remain in soils for decades, where crops can absorb them and enter the food chain. Over time, they accumulate in the body, causing chronic diseases that may take years to appear. This is not a problem for the distant future; it’s already affecting food grown today.

Some heavy metals, such as zinc and copper, are essential micronutrients in trace amounts. Others – including arsenic, cadmium, mercury, and lead – are toxic even at low concentrations.

Some are left behind by natural geology, others by decades of industrial and agricultural activities. They settle into soils through mining, factory emissions, fertilisers or contaminated water.

When crops grow, they draw nutrients from the soil and water – and sometimes, these contaminants too. Rice, for instance, is known for taking up arsenic from flooded paddies. Leafy greens can accumulate cadmium. These metals do not change the taste or colour of food. But they change what it does inside the body.

The quiet health crisis beneath our crops

Long-term exposure to arsenic, cadmium, or lead has been linked to cancer, kidney damage, osteoporosis, and developmental disorders in children. In regions where local diets rely heavily on a single staple crop like rice or wheat, the risks multiply.

The Science study, led by Chinese scientist Deyi Hou and his colleagues, is one of the most comprehensive mapping efforts. By combining recent advances in machine learning with an expansive dataset of 796,084 soil concentrations from 1,493 studies, the authors systematically assessed global soil pollution for seven toxic metals: arsenic, cadmium, cobalt, chromium, copper, nickel, and lead.

The study found that cadmium in agricultural soil frequently exceeded the threshold, particularly in the areas shaded in red in this map:

The authors also describe a “metal-enriched corridor” stretching from southern Europe through the Middle East and into south Asia. These are areas where agricultural productivity overlaps with a history of mining, industrial activity and limited regulation.

How science is reading the soil’s story

Heavy metal contamination in cropland varies by region, often shaped by geology, land use history, and water management. Across central and south-east Asia, rice fields are irrigated with groundwater that naturally contains arsenic. That water deposits arsenic into the soil, where it is taken up by the rice.

Fortunately, nature often provides defence. Recent research showed that certain types of iron minerals in the soil can convert arsenite – a toxic, mobile form of arsenic – into arsenate, a less harmful species that binds more tightly to iron minerals. This invisible soil chemistry represents a safety net.

In parts of west Africa, such as Burkina Faso, arsenic contamination in drinking and irrigation water has also affected croplands. To address this, colleagues and I developed a simple filtration system using zerovalent iron – essentially, iron nails. These low-cost, locally sourced filters have shown promising results in removing arsenic from groundwater.

In parts of South America, croplands near small-scale mines face additional risks. In the Amazon basin, deforestation and informal gold mining contribute to mercury releases. Forests act as natural mercury sinks, storing atmospheric mercury in biomass and soil. When cleared, this stored mercury is released into the environment, raising atmospheric levels and potentially affecting nearby water bodies and croplands.

Cropland near legacy mining sites often suffers long-term contamination but with the appropriate technologies, these sites can be remediated and even transformed into circular economy opportunities.

Evidence-based solutions

Soil contamination is not just a scientific issue. It’s a question of environmental justice. The communities most affected are often the least responsible for the pollution. They may farm on marginal lands near industry, irrigate with unsafe water, or lack access to testing and treatment. They face a double burden: food and water insecurity, and toxic exposure.

There is no single fix. We’ll need reliable assessment of contaminated soils and groundwater, especially in vulnerable and smallholder farming systems. Reducing exposure requires cleaner agricultural inputs, improved irrigation, and better regulation of legacy industrial sites. Equally critical is empowering communities with access to information and tools that enable them to farm safely.

Soils carry memory. They record every pollutant, every neglected regulation, every decision to cut corners. But soils also hold the potential to heal – if given the proper support.

This is not about panic. It’s about responsibility. The Science study provides a stark but timely reminder that food safety begins not in the kitchen or market but in the ground beneath our feet. No country should unknowingly export toxicity in its grain, nor should any farmer be left without the tools to grow food safely.

Jagannath Biswakarma, Senior Research Associate, School of Earth Sciences and Cabot Institute for the Environment, University of Bristol

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

The colossal squid was first described in 1925 based on specimens from the stomach of a commercially hunted sperm whale. A century later, an international voyage captured the first confirmed video of this species in its natural habitat – a 30-centimetre juvenile, at a depth of 600 metres near the South Sandwich Islands.

Colossal squid can grow up to seven metres and weigh as much as 500 kilograms, making them the heaviest invertebrate on the planet. But little is known about their life cycle.

The footage of a young colossal squid in the water column was a serendipitous sighting, as many deep-sea squid observations are.

It was seen during the live “divestream” feed of a remotely operated vehicle during the Schmidt Ocean Institute and Ocean Census partner expedition searching for new deep-sea species and habitats in the far south Atlantic, mostly focusing on the seafloor.

Those tuned into the stream had the remarkable experience of seeing a live colossal squid in its deep-sea home, although its identity was not confirmed until the high-definition footage could be reviewed later.

Predators such as whales and seabirds are still one of our best sources of information about the colossal squid (Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni) because they are much better at finding it than we are.

This partially explains why we have only just filmed this species in its natural habitat. Not only do these animals live in an enormous, dark and three-dimensional environment, they are also probably actively avoiding us.

Most of our deep-sea exploration equipment is large, noisy and uses bright lights if we are trying to film animals. But the colossal squid can detect and avoid diving sperm whales, which probably produce a strong light signal as they swim down and disturb bioluminescent animals.

The squid best able to avoid such predators have been passing on their genes for millions of years. This leaves us with a current population of visually acute, likely light-avoiding animals, well capable of detecting a light signal from many metres away.

Delicate beauty of deep-sea animals

The colossal squid is part of the “glass” squid family (Cranchiidae). Three known glass squid species are found in the Antarctic ocean, but it can be difficult to distinguish them on camera.

Researchers from the organisation Kolossal, aiming to film the colossal squid, observed a similarly sized glass squid during their fourth Antarctic mission in 2023. But since the characteristic features needed to identify a colossal squid – hooks on the ends of the two long tentacles and in the middle of each of the eight shorter arms – weren’t clearly visible, its exact identity remains unconfirmed.

In the Schmidt Ocean Institute footage, the mid-arm hooks are visible. And for this young individual, the resemblance to other glass squids is also clear. With age and size, colossal squid likely lose their transparent appearance and become much more of an anomaly within the family.

While many will be amused by the idea of a “small colossal” squid, this footage showcases a beauty shared by many deep-sea animals, in contrast to the monster hype and “stuff of nightmares” click-bait titles we see all too often.

This colossal squid looks like a delicate glass sculpture, with fins of such fine musculature they are barely visible. It has shining iridescent eyes and graceful arms fanned out from the head.

At full size, the colossal squid may be a formidable predator, with its stout arms and array of sharp hooks, able to tackle two-metre-long toothfish. But in our first confirmed view of it at home in the deep sea, we can marvel at the elegance of this animal, thriving in an environment where humans require so much technology even to visit remotely.

Stranger than science fiction

Until recently, few people were able to take part in deep-sea exploration. But now, anyone with an internet connection can be “in the room” while we explore these habitats and observe animals for the first time.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of the deep sea. It holds hundreds of thousands of undiscovered species, it is probably where life on Earth started, and it makes up 95% of the available living space on our planet.

It has animals more splendid and strange than our most creative science fiction imaginings. This includes squids that start life looking like small light bulbs and then grow into true giants; colonies of individuals living together with each contributing to the group’s success; animals where males (often parasitic) are orders of magnitude smaller than females.

This first confirmed sighting of a colossal squid inspires and reminds us how much we have left to learn.

The expedition that captured the footage of the colossal squid was a collaboration between the Schmidt Ocean Institute, the Nippon Foundation-NEKTON Ocean Census, and GoSouth (a joint project between the University of Plymouth, GEOMAR Helmholtz Centre for Ocean Research and the British Antarctic Survey).

Kat Bolstad, Associate Professor of Environmental Science, Auckland University of Technology

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

Walk into any home or workplace today, and you’re likely to find an array of indoor plants. The global market for indoor plants is growing fast – projected to reach more than US$28 billion (A$44 billion) by 2031.

People keep indoor plants inside for a variety of reasons, including as decoration, to clean the air and for stress relief. But my colleagues and I wanted to delve further. What sort of relationships do people have with indoor plants? And what can this tell us about ties between humans and nature?

We surveyed indoor plant owners in Australia, and found many of us form highly meaningful connections with our leafy companions. Some people even consider their plants as family, get anxious about their health and mourn a plant when it dies.

A blooming hobby

People have grown plants inside for thousands of years.

Evidence suggests Egyptians brought plants indoors in the 3rd century BC. The remains of the former city of Pompeii reveal indoor plants used there more than 2,000 years ago, and in medieval England, indoor plants were used in medicine and cooking.

The keeping of indoor plants became widespread across the world in the second half of the 20th century. The practice was particularly popular during the COVID-19 pandemic, likely due to a desire to connect with nature when access to outdoor green spaces was limited.

The benefits of indoor plants go beyond nature connection. Studies show they can increase positive emotions, reduce stress, enhance productivity, and even decrease physical discomfort such as pain.

However, people have varying levels of connection to their plants, as research by my colleagues and I shows.

Why we love indoor plants

We surveyed 115 Australian adults, recruited through social media posts and poster advertisements at the University of South Australia. Participants were roughly 69% female, 30% male and 1% non-binary, and ranged in age from 18 to 69.

On average, participants owned 15 indoor plants. Some owned a single indoor plant and one person owned a whopping 500!

Between them, respondents kept 51 varieties of house plants. The most common were succulents, devil’s ivy and monstera. They most commonly kept the plants in the living room, kitchen or bedroom.

Across all participants, 11 benefits of having indoor plants were reported.

Half the respondents described the aesthetic appeal of indoor plants. Comments included that indoor plants were “nice to look at”, “soften rooms” and “add colour”. Participants also reported air quality benefits, and that they found indoor plants calming.

Other less commonly reported benefits were that the plants helped the respondents set habits, improved their physical health, provided distraction, relieved fatigue and had a pleasant smell.

4 types of relationships with indoor plants

Our research identified four types of relationships people have with their indoor plants:

1. Highly connected (14% of respondents)

These people typically described a deep personal connection to their plants. Comments included:

They are like my children. (male, 28)

I often water them and take care of them as family members. (female, 26)

Well I cried over my plants leaf getting broken off today, so you could say I’m pretty attached to her. (female, 21)

I feel terrible if one dies, I feel as though I have let it down and generally bury it in the garden. (female, 34)

2. Engaged (42% of respondents)

These people enjoyed and tended to their plants, but without deep emotional attachment. For example:

Watering them and watching them grow is exciting, I feel proud to keep them alive so long (female, 22)

I get sad when one dies or is looking droopy, I feel happy when they look alive and freshly watered. (female, 22)

3. Limited engagement (23%)

These respondents enjoyed having indoor plants but spent minimal time caring for them and reported little emotional connection to them. One participant said:

Feel like indoor plants are fine but through our large windows we can see our outdoor plants and that’s more important to us. (female, 45)

4. No relationship (12%)

Participants who did not have a relationship with their indoor plants said:

Hardly watered it as it’s a succulent. (male, 21)

They are all gifts rather than something I’ve gone out to buy. (male, 21)

(For the remaining 9% of participants, their responses to the question of their relationship with house plants were invalid and not included.)

Unlocking the potential of indoor plants

Our research suggests indoor plants can enrich our lives in ways we are only beginning to understand.

It’s important to note that data for our study were collected in 2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic. This context may have influenced our results. For example, some participants may have felt particularly connected to their indoor plants because their access to outdoor green space was curtailed. So, further research is needed in the post-pandemic context.

Human–nature relationships are an emerging field of research. By understanding the relationship between people and plants, we may help unlock the potential for nature to improve our health and wellbeing.

Brianna Le Busque, Lecturer in Environmental Science, University of South Australia

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

Australians waste around 7.68 million tonnes of food a year. This costs the economy an estimated A$36.6 billion and households up to $2,500 annually.

Much of this food is wasted at home. So while consumers are increasingly aware of sustainability issues, awareness does not always translate into better food management in practice.

Our previous research revealed people differ in the ways they generate and dispose of food waste.

Our latest study takes a closer look at two groups who care deeply about food, for different reasons. It exposes a paradox: people who prioritise healthy eating waste less food, while those focused on sustainability do not necessarily follow through with waste reduction.

This suggests encouraging healthier eating habits might be a better way to cut household food waste than sustainability messaging alone.

Sustainability awareness doesn’t always mean less waste

To understand how food values influence waste, we surveyed 1,030 Australian consumers living in Adelaide between April and May 2021. We set quotas for age, sex and household income to match national demographics.

We wanted to find out who wasted more food: nutrition-conscious or sustainability-conscious consumers?

We asked each person how they plan meals and shop, what they value when buying food, and how much food they throw away each week.

Our results show nutrition-conscious consumers tend to plan meals in advance, use shopping lists and avoid over-purchasing. These behaviours contribute to both a healthier diet and less food waste.

We found consumers who make more nutrition-conscious food choices tended to waste less edible food. A one-point increase on our nutrition scale corresponded to a 17.6% reduction in food waste, compared to people with lower scores on the nutrition scale.

On the other hand, those who prioritise sustainability over nutrition did not show any significant reduction in edible food waste.

These consumers tend to choose environmentally friendly products. They typically prefer to shop locally, buy organic produce and avoid excessive food packaging. But that does not necessarily translate into waste-reducing behaviours.

Those concerned with sustainability tend to buy more food than they need. They have good intentions, but lack strategies to manage and consume the food efficiently. Unfortunately this means sustainably sourced food often ends up in landfill.

Integrating nutrition and food waste messaging

Our research reveals a disconnect between purchasing choices and what actually happens to the food at home.

This highlights an opportunity for policymakers and campaigns aimed at reducing food waste. Rather than focusing solely on sustainability, including messages about improving nutrition can boost health and reduce food waste at the same time.

Some successful interventions already demonstrate the potential of this approach. For example, an Australian school-based program found children involved in preparing their own meals wasted less food than they did before the program began.

These students learned about food waste and healthy eating, participated in workshops on meal preparation and composting, and helped pack their own lunches – with less food waste as a result.

5 ways to reduce food waste

So, what can households do to reduce food waste while maintaining a healthy diet? Our research suggests the following key strategies:

1. plan ahead – creating a weekly meal plan and shopping list helps prevent impulse purchases and ensures food is consumed before it spoils

2. buy only what you need – over-purchasing, even of sustainable products, can lead to unnecessary waste

3. store food properly – understanding how to store fresh produce, dairy, and leftovers can significantly extend their shelf life

4. prioritise nutrition – choosing foods that fit into a balanced diet naturally leads to better portion control and mindful consumption, reducing waste

5. use what you have – before shopping, check your fridge and pantry to incorporate existing ingredients into meals.

Reducing waste is a bonus

People are often more motivated by personal health benefits than abstract environmental concerns. Our research suggests this is the key to reducing household food waste.

Encouraging meal planning for a balanced diet, careful shopping to avoid over-purchasing, and proper food storage, can make a big difference to the amount of food being wasted. This will not only help households save thousands of dollars each year, but also promote healthy eating habits.

Ultimately, developing a more sustainable food system is not just about buying the right products. It’s about how we manage, prepare and consume them.

Trang Nguyen, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, Centre for Global Food and Resources, University of Adelaide; Jack Hetherington, Grant-funded Researcher, University of Adelaide, and Patrick O'Connor, Professor in Natural Resource Economics, University of Adelaide

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

The Isle of Man government has said it is “fully committed to environmental protection and transparency” regarding its Unesco biosphere status – despite admitting that legacy landfill sites are discharging hazardous chemical contaminants into the sea.

The Isle of Man is a self-governing island in the Irish Sea between the UK and and Ireland. It is not part of the UK or the European Union, but has the status of “crown dependency” with an independent administration. Its population of about 84,000 people are British citizens.

It is known as the home of TT motorbike racing, traditional smoked kippers, a low tax economy, and the entire island is designated a Unesco biosphere reserve. It boasts crystal clear waters, top-class dive sites and a thriving marine life.

The Isle of Man achieved this highly regarded status in 2016 on the basis of its marine habitats and sustainability strategies.

But polychlorinated biphenols (PCBs) – synthetic industrial chemicals once used to make electricals and other materials – continue to be released into the waterways and the sea.

Although the production of PCBs was banned globally in the 1980s, they still exist in many products, like electrical equipment, much of which lingers in landfills and so they continue to pose a risk to ocean health. Research has shown how legacy contaminants such as PCBs can be released from hundreds of thousands of coastal landfills across Europe – and the Isle of Man is no different.

Evidence has been accumulating for years about PCB discharges on the Isle of Man and much of it is on the government’s own website.

For example, 4,000 tonnes of toxic silt from harbour dredging – which included PCBs and heavy metals was dumped in the Irish sea in 2014. This “trial dump” was despite environmental and legal advice from its marine monitoring officer that this would be ignoring international agreements and would be damaging to the environment.

The Insights section is committed to high-quality longform journalism. Our editors work with academics from many different backgrounds who are tackling a wide range of societal and scientific challenges.

Then in 2015 – a time when it would have been putting together its Unesco application – the island government compiled a document, titled “the Peel Marina silt questions and answers” in which it discussed further toxic waste dumping options. It states:

Disposing of 18,000 tonnes of contaminated sediments from the marina directly to the sea bed would have had a negative impact on the species involved. Testing carried out by Defa [Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture] officers had already identified the likelihood that earlier disposal of 4,000 tonnes into the sea had contributed to rises in contaminants within commercial fisheries species to levels approaching EU food safety standards.

That batch of 18,000 tonnes of contaminated silt, collected after harbour dredging in Peel harbour, was eventually moved to a sealed pit.

But it is the ongoing situation with legacy landfills which is seeing PCBs continuing to leach into the sea – a situation that the island government admits will not be entirely solved until the construction of a wastewater treatment plant (building is due to start on the plant in April 2025).

‘A hidden gem’

The Isle of Man government leans heavily on its biosphere status across its tourism marketing and brands itself as “extraordinary”, a “hidden gem, an unexplored land, a biosphere nation”.

But despite its pledges of being a destination with a “fantastic seascape…and coastline”, contaminated leachate from decommissioned landfill continues to drain into the marine environment.

The Isle of Man applied for the biosphere reserve status in 2013, which was awarded in 2016 based on the submission of a comprehensive 250-page nomination document. But there was no mention of toxic landfill leachate or the dumping of thousands of tonnes of contaminated harbour silt which later came to light.

The Isle of Man government told The Conversation that Unesco was aware of the discharges and that “biosphere status is not a hallmark of perfection”. It said its PCB discharges are in line with those of the UK.

But it raises the question of whether such pollution can be in line with the spirit of the biosphere status.

It is important to be clear that the Isle of Man is not unique in the British Islands in having managed disposal or unintentional discharges of legacy industrial wastes to the sea.

My team’s research (Patrick Byrne’s) documents thousands of coastal landfills in England and Wales, many of which discharge hazardous materials to the sea through leachates or erosion.

A Unesco biosphere reserve is not supposed to be perfect – almost nowhere is. But it should be a model for how we protect and sustainably manage our environment, including how we address legacy pollution. Why not highlight the issue of legacy industrial wastes as a challenge to be met?

The Isle of Man government rejects the idea that it misrepresented any of the facts around its environmental credentials.

But when The Conversation put the details to Unesco, it said it had not been made aware of previous dumping of toxic silt containing PCBs in 2014 and added that the first time the issue was raised with them was “in late 2023”.

A spokesperson said: “At the time of the nomination, the International Committee of the Unesco Biosphere Programme was not aware of this issue.”

The government told The Conversation it included “all information relevant for consideration by Unesco” when it made its application, but said certain discharges were not in the “zonation area” and that “nowhere is perfect”.

The major concern is about being open and honest with the public and Unesco about the environmental challenges and potential human health concerns associated with legacy pollutants like PCBs. It is entirely possible that the Isle of Man’s Unesco status would still have been granted if Unesco had been fully aware about the dumping at sea.

Landfills

The Conversation spoke to Calum MacNeil, a freshwater scientist who worked for the Isle of Man government for 13 years. He now works for a research institute in New Zealand but has been flagging concerns about contamination from toxic silt. Together with his help, we spent months gathering all of the evidence, checking the facts and joining the dots between silt dredged from a harbour, landfills and sealed pits aimed at temporarily dealing with this legacy pollution.

On the Isle of Man, historic landfills dating back to the 1940s are unlined so they are not sealed. After heavy rain, pollutants can wash away and leach out into the surrounding environment.

One, called Raggatt landfill, is located 3.7 miles (6km) from the coast. It’s the size of several football pitches and when it rains, leachate (the landfill’s liquid discharge) that has been found to contain PCBs can “run off” the facility onto the nearby main road and the adjacent River Neb, eventually draining into the sea at Peel Bay.

According to a 2017 news report, the government stated that the leachate “does not pose a risk to people swimming in Peel Bay” because it’s diluted by seawater. MacNeil insists that this is “a crucial admission” because he believes that the government cannot scientifically prove that any public exposure to PCB contamination is ever safe.

MacNeil said: “I feel there needs to be international scientific and legal scrutiny of all of this. I believe both Unesco and the UK government’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) have a responsibility here as well given the international agreements involved and the biosphere designation. Given the biosphere status, surely the Isle of Man government should be acting not just to the letter of the law but in the spirit of the law.”

Regulations

While various international regulations govern levels of chemical contamination in leachate in and immediately around old landfills, the same rules do not apply to anything that is deliberately dumped or discharged directly into rivers or the sea.

Isle of Man legislation called the Water Pollution Act 1993 outlines that any discharge or dumping must abide by any and all relevant international agreements that apply to the Isle of Man.

MacNeil argues that the onus should be on the Isle of Man government to prove that any discharge of PCBs is legal under international agreements.

These include an agreement called Ospar (the Oslo-Paris convention for the protection of the marine environment for the north-east Atlantic) and the Basel convention which governs how nations, including the Isle of Man, should treat and dispose of hazardous waste in environmentally sound ways.

Tourism

Tourists and local residents swim all year round in bathing waters such as Peel Bay, and praise for this nation’s marine conservation achievements is vast. Last summer, the Isle of Man was even nominated for the “most desirable island in Europe” travel award hosted by magazine Wanderlust.

With goals to grow annual visitor numbers to 500,000, a thriving ecotourism industry could contribute an estimated £520 million by 2032. According to the island’s tourism agency, Visit Isle of Man, it aims to be “a leading British ecotourism destination that provides a range of opportunities for visitors to connect with our unique nature and wildlife”.

But Peel is one of three beaches (technically designated as a non-bathing area) on the island to recently fail minimum standards for bathing waters “due to insufficient infrastructure”, according to the 2024 bathing water report from the Isle of Man’s Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture (Defa).

A desirable designation

A board is currently being formed to lead the ten-year periodic review (reaccreditation) of the island’s Unesco status.

As one 2022 study explains, biosphere reserves are “learning sites for sustainable development”. Researchers point out that a coherent and holistic approach on the Isle of Man is not necessarily easy to achieve, in part because the biosphere is managed by one government department (Defa) with a remit for environment, food and agriculture, resulting in “age-old tensions between farming and conservation”.

The Isle of Man government’s website states: “Our biosphere status encourages us to learn about and cherish what we have in the Isle of Man and safeguard it for the future by making good decisions, as individuals, as organisations and as an island. It tells potential new residents and visitors that we are a special place for people and nature and have a conscience.”

But without openly acknowledging the legacy pollution challenges, they are literally being buried for future generations. This ultimately undermines local, national, and international efforts to learn and move forward in a sustainable way, which is at the heart of the Unesco biosphere philosophy.

A spokesperson for the Isle of Man government said:

“The Isle of Man government remains fully committed to environmental protection and transparency regarding its Unesco Biosphere status. We reject any assertion that the government has acted to misrepresent environmental matters in its Unesco application.

"All relevant data and policies have been developed in line with scientific evidence and regulatory frameworks. The Isle of Man government conducts rigorous environmental monitoring, including assessments of water quality and potential contaminants, to ensure compliance with established safety standards.

"The Isle of Man has legacy landfill sites similar to those found in the UK, Europe and around the world which leach contaminants, including PCBs, into the marine environment. Details of PCB discharges from UK landfills can be found on the UK Pollutant Release and Transfer Register (PRTR) data sets where the pollutant threshold below which data is not required to be submitted for PCBs in water is stated as 0.1kg.

"The level of PCBs entering the marine environment in the Isle of Man is slightly lower than the average throughout the Irish Sea as determined by sediment and biota samples.

"The leachate discharge from the historic Raggatt landfill, which closed in 1990, is planned to be discharged to Peel Wastewater Treatment Plant which has recently received planning permission and construction expected to commence by April 2025.

"As stated on the Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture’s pollution control monitoring webpage: ‘Independent advice from Phoenix Engineering is that this would represent the best available technology to manage and control emissions of PCBs present in Raggatt landfill leachate to the marine environment in Peel.’

"Due to historic mining, heavy metals such as lead are known to flow down the river and accumulate in silt at Peel Marina, which has previously exceeded Cefas action level 2 where sediments are considered unacceptable for uncontrolled disposal at sea without special handling and containment. No further deposits to sea of Peel dredging silt have been made since 2014, and a catchment management plan is currently being developed to reduce this contamination at Peel Marina.

"The aim for all Unesco Biospheres is to improve our environment; something which the Isle of Man has consistently strived to achieve since accreditation in 2016.”

A spokesperson for Unesco said:

“Unesco first received information on this issue in late 2023, which was then relayed to the relevant government authorities for comments. Unesco was informed that the situation appeared to stem from the presence of a UK historic landfill which is being followed through a comprehensive monitoring programme.

"Following Unesco’s request, the UK Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs confirmed that ‘it is in line with the UK government’s responsibilities under the Ospar convention, and are satisfied the Isle of Man government is taking all possible steps to prevent and eliminate pollution of PCBs from land-based sources entering the marine environment in line with Article 3 of the Ospar convention’.

"In the original application dossier, the Isle of Man committed to ‘take responsibility for overseeing salvage and pollution counter-measures in order to comply with international conventions’. It also committed to observing a range of multilateral environmental agreements (MEAs).

"As the Isle of Man Biosphere Reserve was designated in 2016, its periodic review is scheduled for 2026. Unesco will make all information available to the Intergovernmental Committee in charge of examining the renewal of the status.”

For you: more from our Insights series:

• Inside Porton Down: what I learned during three years at the UK’s most secretive chemical weapons laboratory

• The overshoot myth: you can’t keep burning fossil fuels and expect scientists of the future to get us back to 1.5°C

• We found over 300 million young people had experienced online sexual abuse and exploitation over the course of our meta-study

• ‘There has never been a more dangerous time to take drugs’: the rising global threat of nitazenes and synthetic opioids

To hear about new Insights articles, join the hundreds of thousands of people who value The Conversation’s evidence-based news. Subscribe to our newsletter.

Anna Turns, Senior Environment Editor, The Conversation and Patrick Byrne, Professor of Water Science, Liverpool John Moores University

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

The production and use of toxic synthetic chemicals called polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) were banned internationally more than 40 years ago. There is a great deal of evidence that they are carcinogens and hormone disrupters in mammals and can cause birth defects.

PCBs can build up in the tissues in increasing amounts over time (bioaccumulate) in long-lived animals and people exposed to them. They also biomagnify in the environment meaning they build up in food chains – smaller animals take them into their tissues, those are then eaten by larger animals (such as fish), which themselves are eaten by humans and marine mammals such as dolphins and seals living in Britain’s waters.

Despite these risks, the Isle of Man government – by its own admission – has been dumping toxic silt containing PCBs into the waters of Peel Bay and unlined landfills over the past decade. This is despite the fact these waters have been declared a Unesco biosphere.

Here, Patrick Byrne, Professor of Water Science at Liverpool John Moores University, questions freshwater scientist Calum MacNeil about why he thinks it is so important that the world, and particularly Unesco, takes notice about what’s being dumped into the sea around the Isle of Man.

When did you live on the Isle of Man and what was your exact role?

I lived on the Isle of Man for nearly 15 years (2004 – 2019) and left at the end of 2019.

From 2004 – 2007, I was the Isle of Man government’s freshwater biologist. From 2007 – 2017, I was the freshwater biologist and enforcement officer, responsible for regulation and enforcement of environmental matters related to controlled waters (all inland waters and coastal waters).

Where is the Isle of Man and what is the Unesco status it has earned?

The Isle of Man is a small island in the middle of the Irish Sea, located almost an equal distance from England, Northern Ireland and Scotland. It is British but not part of the UK: it is a self-governing dependency of the British Crown with its own government and laws. It is not part of the EU but is signed up to various international agreements on the environment.

Unesco is the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation. It began the biosphere programme in 1991, concentrating on the care of land, sea and species, as well as culture, heritage, community and economy.

The Isle of Man was awarded Unesco biosphere status in 2016 after a lengthy process and a detailed application. Although the island is now one of over 750 biospheres worldwide, it is the world’s only “entire nation Unesco biosphere”.

According to the island government’s own fact sheet, biospheres have three functions: promoting sustainable development, conservation and learning. The sea makes up 87% of the Isle of Man Unesco biosphere.

Despite earning this status, evidence in the public domain shows that pollutants have been dumped into the sea. What’s been going on?

The Isle of Man government has been accused of deliberately dumping 4,000 tonnes of toxic silt from harbour dredging, which included synthetic industrial chemicals known as PCBs and heavy metals, in the Irish sea in 2014.

This trial dump, referred to on the Isle on Man’s own website, was despite environmental and legal advice from its marine monitoring officer that this would be ignoring international agreements and would be damaging to the environment.

Despite extensive evidence in the public domain, this dumping was not mentioned once in the biosphere nomination documents, dated 2015. The nation’s biosphere website says the nomination process was “several years” in the making and the Unesco biosphere designation occurred in 2016 – only a relatively short time after the deliberate dumping in the Irish Sea.

The government has also allegedly discharged toxic PCB-contaminated effluent – known as called leachate – from an old landfill, called the Raggatt, directly into Peel Bay, an area which has one of the most popular public beaches on the island. Peel is one of three beaches (technically designated as non-bathing areas) on the island that recently failed to meet minimum standards for bathing waters.

I wasn’t aware of the details of the sea dumping of toxic silt until June 2022 when the employment tribunal findings related to the Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture’s (Defa) ex-marine monitoring officer Kevin Kennington became public. This tribunal heard evidence that this was going on before, during and after the Unesco biosphere designation.

The Isle of Man is a signatory to the Oslo-Paris convention for the protection of the marine environment for the north-east Atlantic (Ospar). The convention specifies a maximum level of marine contaminants.

A decade on from its initial application, the Isle of Man is currently bidding to renew its Unesco Biosphere status in 2026.

The Insights section is committed to high-quality longform journalism. Our editors work with academics from many different backgrounds who are tackling a wide range of societal and scientific challenges.

While all of this was going on, the Isle of Man has been promoting its Unesco biosphere status as a marketing tool and it was receiving a lot of favourable media attention on how it was protecting its marine environment and beaches.

There does appear to be a lack of monitoring, at least in the public domain. Given the serious nature of the contaminants, I would expect the environmental regulator to monitor any PCBs detected in the environment and fully inform the public of any exposure risk.

The disposal of thousands of tonnes of contaminated silt into biodiverse waters could have had a serious negative impact on that bid. So, how did you discover that all was not as it seemed with the marine biosphere status?

Shortly after resigning from my post in 2017, I read an article in the local media about how the attorney general of the Isle of Man (the government’s senior legal advisor) believed it might be in the public interest to hold a full investigation into the discharging of potentially toxic material retrieved from an old landfill site that was being transported by tankers and taken to the sea. There were a number of statements made in that article that I found very concerning, such as the two below:

The then Environment Minister Richard Ronan told the House of Keys [the parliament of the Isle of Man] in July last year that levels of a range of metals, ammonia, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) and 225 polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) identified in the leachate exceed environmental quality standards, making it unsuitable for direct discharge into the River Neb.

The government said the leachate is subject to a large degree of dilution [as] it enters the sea. Samples are analysed regularly and the leachate “does not pose a risk to people swimming in Peel bay”.

To be clear, I knew at the time of reading this article in 2017 that there was no UK or EU environmental quality standard to legally allow a deliberate discharge of PCBs into either freshwaters (rivers and lakes) or to the sea. I knew this because PCBs are massively hydrophobic (water-hating) – meaning you shouldn’t have them suspended in effluent anyway because all they want to do is settle out at the bottom of whatever they are suspended in as soon as possible.

So, if you can detect them suspended in actual effluent you should be very worried about how much is built up or buried in the sediment accompanying that effluent. I knew the deliberate discharge of this was internationally banned and that it shouldn’t be going on into rivers or the sea.

I was even more alarmed when the article quoted a government spokesperson saying the leachate “does not pose a risk to people swimming in Peel Bay”. The government needs to prove that statement legally and scientifically because in the US and Europe there is a “risk averse” approach to PCB release.

This story and the government’s response was very concerning to me as an internationally banned carcinogen was being discharged deliberately to Peel bay, a popular public beach area, while the public were being told it was fine, legal and safe. I didn’t see how this could possibly be legal as regards international agreements.

A few months later, I was concerned about further silt dredging at Peel bay and was curious how Defa as a regulator would deal with avoiding the risk of resuspending previously buried PCBs.

Ospar gives guidance on this, as this is important as PCBs remain toxic for decades and dredging could obviously further increase the risk to the public and environment – resuspending any PCBs that had been previously buried under layers of sediment for decades would result in releasing another source of PCBs into the bay.

Was anyone concerned about possible pollution at the time of the Unesco application?

The Isle of Man government says it spent a great deal of time on the nomination process and the publicly available nomination documents are long and detailed and Defa was heavily involved in the application process and the details provided so they would have to answer that.

I don’t know if any other scientists were raising a red flag at the time, but I do refer you to Kevin Kennington’s tribunal findings which involved dumping toxic silt at sea and Defa officers were aware of this dumping in 2014. None of this was mentioned in the nomination document as far as I have been able to ascertain.

The tribunal found the toxic silt exceeded Ospar guidelines.

When The Conversation put that to Isle of Man government, it did not accept it was in contravention of the rules. But a spokesperson for the UK regulator, Defra told us: “Defra’s internal analysis concluded that the incident constituted actions that were not in accordance with the Ospar convention (Articles 4, and Annex II Art 4) and the 1996 London protocol on the prevention of marine pollution by dumping of wastes and other matter.”

What laws are involved here?

The 252-page-long nomination forms refer to the Water Pollution Act 1993. This is an act that makes “new provision for the protection of inland and coastal waters from pollution, to control deposits in the sea and for connected purposes”.

Some EU legislation is also applied to the Isle of Man, such as Ospar (the convention for protection of the marine environment of the north-east Atlantic) and the Basel convention which governs how nations, including the Isle of Man, should treat and dispose of hazardous waste, including PCBs, in an environmentally sound way.

What are the most worrying impacts of the pollution here?

The dumping in the Irish sea is obviously very worrying, not just for the Isle of Man. PCBs can travel long distances and are toxic for decades.

In my view, the deliberate tanker discharge of PCBs to Peel bay is extremely worrying from both an environmental and public health risk perspective, as is the dredging up of PCB contaminated silt in Peel harbour.

I’m alarmed by the fact that the Isle of Man government decided that it was not in the public interest to pursue the case for the discharge into the sea, given that international agreements were broken.

What needs to change in terms of governance and law enforcement?

I feel there needs to be international scientific and legal scrutiny of all of this. I believe both Unesco and the UK government’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) have a responsibility here as well given the international agreements involved and the biosphere designation. Given the biosphere status surely the Isle of Man government should be acting not just to the letter of the law but the spirit of the law.

What should a biosphere reserve really look like and what needs to change?

Ideally, the government in the world’s only all-nation Unesco biosphere would fully abide by its own principles and pledges and adhere to international agreements.

For instance, the Isle of Man government set its own environmental quality standards (EQS) for PCBs – now, those won’t be breached by the levels of existing discharges. EQS values for soil, sediment, freshwater and marine environments are derived from years of research showing the maximum concentrations (or quality standards) that cannot be exceeded in order to protect human and environmental health.

As far as I’m aware, there is still no EQS for PCBs in effluent agreed to by the EU. There are PCB guidelines for sediment and biota (animals and plants) at the end of pipelines but these are more concerned with monitoring legacy historic sources of PCBs. I don’t know legally how the Isle of Man was able to do this despite international laws.

The Isle of Man government should be taking a far more precautionary approach to PCBs and potential public exposure, environmental damage and public health risk. They should be doing this anyway, but in the world’s only entire nation Unesco biosphere, I think the moral and legal onus is on them to prove what they are doing is safe. If they are saying it is safe, they obviously need to prove it. I think the onus is also on Unesco to check what is going on in their only all-nation biosphere, especially in the “care” areas of that biosphere.

Calum MacNeil raises some important questions about the very nature of Unesco biosphere status and about the safety of the waters in and around the Isle of Man. The public has a right to clear answers and information. Here are some of the key issues from my perspective as a water scientist.

Long-term health effects

The point about PCB sorption to sediments is a good one. An important study from 2019 estimated that 75% of all PCBs manufactured since 1930 now reside in marine sediment. Marine sediment is literally the waste bin for PCBs. Dilution in rivers is commonly used as a convenient way of masking the mass transport of chemicals through rivers and ultimately to the oceans. So, yes, dilution decreases concentrations locally, but it does not reduce the volume of chemicals transported to or disposed of at sea.

The PCB discharge to Peel bay has been going on since the 1990s which is worrying given possible long-term public health risks and environmental impacts. Some of the metabolites may leave your body in a few days, but others may remain in your body fat for months. Unchanged PCBs may also remain in your body and be stored for years mainly in the fat and liver, but smaller amounts can be found in other organs as well. Once in our bodies, they can have toxic long-term health effects. Some are associated with fertility issues and they are classed as probable human carcinogens.

Persistence in the environment

Since the 1970’s, the gradual phasing out and banning of PCBs has led to dramatic reductions in their release into the environment. However, despite this, PCBs remain one of the biggest chemical threats to humans and wildlife worldwide. Why is this? Well, we know PCBs are very persistent in the environment, which means they last for decades to hundreds of years. Because of this persistence, they accumulate in living things and we know that at certain concentrations they can be very harmful to us.

It is also because of the widely held belief that “dilution is the solution to pollution”. Sure, dilution of effluent in a river reduces concentrations locally and might allow a government or an industry to meet an environmental quality guideline.

But where have the pollutants gone? They have not disappeared - remember PCBs may persist for hundreds of years. They have gone out to sea where they accumulate in sediments and living things. And we see the evidence and impacts of this all around us. For example, PCBs and other harmful chemicals are routinely detected in apex predators like orcas and whales and polar bears and we know this is negatively impacting their physiology and reproductive health.

PCBs have been detected in the Arctic and Antarctica and even in the Mariana trench in the deep ocean. This is the cumulative result of decades of PCB discharge into the seas from all around the world. We cannot do anything about PCBs that are already in the sea, but with everything we now know about how harmful and long-lasting these chemicals are, we really cannot knowingly continue discharging them into the sea.

For you: more from our Insights series:

• Inside Porton Down: what I learned during three years at the UK’s most secretive chemical weapons laboratory

• The overshoot myth: you can’t keep burning fossil fuels and expect scientists of the future to get us back to 1.5°C

• We found over 300 million young people had experienced online sexual abuse and exploitation over the course of our meta-study

• ‘There has never been a more dangerous time to take drugs’: the rising global threat of nitazenes and synthetic opioids

To hear about new Insights articles, join the hundreds of thousands of people who value The Conversation’s evidence-based news. Subscribe to our newsletter.

Patrick Byrne, Professor of Water Science, Liverpool John Moores University

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

There are an estimated 1 billion domesticated dogs in the world. Most are owned animals – pets, companions or working animals who share their lives with humans. They are the most common large predator in the world. Pet cats trail far behind, at about 220 million.

We are all too aware of the negative effects of cats, both owned and feral, on wildlife. Feral dogs too are frequently seen as threats to biodiversity, although dingoes can have a positive role. By contrast, our pet dogs often seem to get a free pass.

This is, unfortunately, based more on feelings than data. Our beloved pet dogs have a far greater, more insidious and more concerning effect on wildlife and the environment than we would like to be the case.

In our new research, we lay out the damage pet dogs do and what can be done about it.

Dogs are predators. They catch many types of wildlife and can injure or kill them. Their scent and droppings scare smaller animals. Then there’s the huge environmental cost of feeding these carnivores and the sheer quantity of their poo.

We love our pet dogs, but they come with a very real cost. We have to recognise this and take steps to protect wildlife by leashing or restraining our animals.

The predator in your home

Dogs are domesticated wolves, bred to be smaller, more docile and extremely responsive to humans. But they are still predators.

Pet dogs are responsible for more reported attacks on wildlife than are cats, according to data from wildlife care centres, and catch larger animals.

Pet dogs off the leash are the main reason colonies of little penguins are nearing collapse in Tasmania.

In New Zealand, a single escaped pet dog is estimated to have killed up to 500 brown kiwis out of a total population of 900 over a five-week period.

Once off the leash, dogs love to chase animals and birds. This may seem harmless. But being chased can exhaust tired migratory birds, forcing them to use more energy. Dogs can kill fledglings of beach-nesting birds, including endangered birds such as the hooded plover.

The mere presence of these predators terrifies many animals and birds. Even when they’re on the leash, local wildlife are on high alert. This has measurable negative effects on bird abundance and diversity across woodland sites in eastern Australia.

In the United States, deer are more alert and run sooner and farther if they see a human with a leashed dog than a human alone.

Several mammal species in the United States perceived dogs with a human as a bigger threat than coyotes.

Dogs don’t even have to be present to be bad for wildlife. They scent-mark trees and posts with their urine and leave their faeces in many places. These act as warnings to many other species. Researchers in the US found animals such as deer, foxes and even bobcats avoided areas dogs had been regularly walked compared to dog exclusion zones, due to the traces they left.

Keeping dogs healthy and fed has a cost

The medications we use to rid our pet dogs of fleas or ticks can last weeks on fur, and wash off when they plunge into a creek or river. But some of these medications have ingredients highly toxic to aquatic invertebrates, meaning a quick dip can be devastating.

Researchers have found when birds such as blue tits and great tits collect brushed-out dog fur to line their nests, it can lead to fewer eggs hatching and more dead hatchlings.

Then there’s the poo. In the US, there are about 90 million pet dogs, while the UK has 12 million and Australia has 6 million.

The average dog deposits 200 grams of faeces and 400 millilitres of urine a day. This translates to a tonne of faeces and 2,000 litres of urine over a 13 year lifespan. Scaled up, that’s a mountain of waste.

This waste stream can add to nitrogen pollution in waterways, alter soil chemistry and even spread diseases to humans and other wildlife. More than 80% of the pathogens infecting domesticated animals also infect wildlife.

Dogs largely eat meat, meaning millions of cows and chickens are raised just to feed our pets. Feeding the world’s dogs leads to about the same emissions as the Philippines and a land use “pawprint” twice the size of the UK.

No one likes thinking about this

People love their dogs. They’re always happy to see us. Their companionship makes us healthier, body and mind. Many farms couldn’t run without working dogs. We don’t want to acknowledge they can also cause harm.

Dogs, of course, are not bad. They’re animals, with natural instincts as well as the domesticated instinct to please us. But their sheer numbers mean they do real damage.

Many of us have a large dog-shaped blind spot. Little Brutus wouldn’t have done something like that, we think. But Brutus can and does.

Choosing to own a dog comes with responsibilities. Being a good dog owner means caring not just for the animal we love, but the rest of the natural world.

Bill Bateman, Associate Professor, Behavioural Ecology, Curtin University and Lauren Gilson, Research Associate, Behavioural Ecology, Curtin University

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

Have you ever sat with a cup of tea at the end of a weeding session, with a feeling close to happiness? Or returned from the local garden centre with a bag of potting mix and some plants – and soon the sight of your newly planted herbs or flowers makes your heart feel inexplicably lighter?

Perhaps you’re in hospital recovering from surgery, as I was only a little time ago. I regained consciousness in an advanced recovery unit, a dimly lit space with no windows where everything felt slightly surreal and too intense.

I was receiving the best possible care, yet I had a desperate sense of having been cut loose from my life, and even from my body, as it was monitored and medicated throughout the night. Who knows where things might go from here, I thought. Yet I almost didn’t care.

In the morning, I was wheeled away to a room on an upper floor. It was a space flooded with natural light and with a view of a wintry, cloudy sky and distant treetops.

When a friend arrived with a posy of flowers, I found myself smiling for the first time since leaving home. As well as the pleasure of her company, there was a surge of delight at the presence of flowers. Their soft colours soothed something in me that had been clutched tight in fear since my first glimpse of the stark, frankly terrifying operating theatre.

A history of healing

Perhaps now, more than ever, we could all use some green relief, as we deal with a world that seems to only grow more anxiety-inducing and uncertain.

In May, Australians will vote in what has been called “the cost-of-living election”. Housing prices (and homelessness) have soared, too, with one study putting the rise in housing value between March 2020 and February 2024 at 32.5%.

Elsewhere, war rages in Ukraine, Gaza, and other countries, and the world order is wobbling in the wake of the US elections – particularly this week, when Donald Trump’s tariffs sparked a stock market crash not seen since COVID (until he changed his mind yesterday and it recovered) and led to predictions of a recession.

What evidence is there that the natural world can have a healing effect?

In most cultures throughout history, medicine and botany have been closely entwined, and gardens have been associated with healing the body, mind, and spirit. From around the 4th century BCE, Greece had healing centres known as “asclepieia”, after the god of medicine, Asclepius.

In medieval Europe, monasteries kept medicinal gardens. In England, hospitals and asylums were set within landscaped grounds in the belief the tranquillity of the setting played an important role in lifting patients’ mood. Both male and female inmates of 19th-century asylums often worked in the gardens, in what was seen as a healing process administered by the place itself.

Inevitably, the creep of urbanisation saw the garden landscapes of many such institutions greatly reduced, yet the health benefits to patients of connecting with nature remains undiminished.

Flowers and healing

An explanation for the uplifting effect of those flowers in my hospital room may be found in numerous studies that have shown, post-surgery, patients in rooms with plants and flowers have shorter recovery times, require fewer analgesics, and experience lower levels of anxiety. Partly, it is a response to beauty.

As psychiatrist Sue Stuart-Smith writes in The Well Gardened Mind, the human response to beauty involves brain pathways “associated with our dopamine, serotonin, and endogenous opioid systems and damp down our fear and stress responses”. She continues: “Beauty calms and revitalises us at the same time.” We humans have an affinity for patterns and order, she writes. “The simple geometrics we find in nature are perhaps most concentrated and compelling in the beauty of a flower’s form.”

There has been a trend towards banning flowers from hospital wards, on health grounds. Reasons include a suspicion bacteria lurk in the flower water, as well as safety concerns around patients or nursing staff knocking over vases during night shifts.

Florence Nightingale, in her Notes on Nursing, commented on the beneficial effects of flowers on her patients. She added that they recovered more quickly if they could spend time outside, or at least had a room with adequate natural light. “It is a curious thing to observe how almost all patients lie with their faces turned to the light, exactly as plants always make their way towards the light.” Even if lying on a particular side caused pain, patients still preferred it, Nightingale noted – because “it is the side towards the window”.

Our compulsion to turn towards the natural world is known as “biophilia”. The term was first coined in the 1960s, by German–American social psychologist and psychoanalyst, Erich Fromm. He described it as “the passionate love of life and all that is alive”, speculating that our separation from nature brings about a level of unrecognised distress.

In the 1980s, biologist and ecologist Edward O. Wilson, in his book Biophilia, asserted that all humans share an affinity with the natural world. “The urge to affiliate with other forms of life is to some degree innate,” he wrote.

In hospital, as my body began its tentative recovery from the shock of surgery, I remembered a line popularly attributed to the French Impressionist painter, Claude Monet: “What I need most are flowers, always, and always.” Through his paintings, notably his studies of waterlilies, and the garden he established at Giverny, which welcomes visitors to the present day, Monet’s flowers continue to calm and revive us with their transcendent beauty.

Perhaps the simplest way to forge a connection with nature lies in our own suburban gardens, if we are lucky enough to have them. Aside from the pleasure of creating pleasing spaces, contact with the soil bacteria Mycobacterium vaccae has been shown to trigger the release of serotonin in the brain. Serotonin, a natural antidepressant, strengthens the immune system. An added bonus is that when we harvest edible plants, our brain releases dopamine, flushing our systems with a gentle rush of satisfaction and pleasure.

Regular doses of serotonin and dopamine were never more needed than during the pandemic, when lockdowns unleashed a sudden fervour for gardening.

In her book The Garden Against Time, Olivia Laing writes that “over the course of 2020, three million people in Britain began to garden for the first time, over half of them under forty-five”. And it wasn’t just in Britain, where garden centres ran out of plants and compost as people set to work transforming the spaces where they were confined.

Australia experienced a similar surge in interest, with the ABC reporting sales of herb and vegetable plants shot up 27%, joining toilet paper and pasta on the list of panic buys. In the United States, Laing writes, 18.3 million people started gardening, “many of them millennials”. American seed company W. Atlee Burpee “reported more sales in the first March of lockdown than at any other time in its 144-year history”.

Laing writes:

crouched on the threshold of unimaginable disaster, death toll soaring, no cure in sight – it was reassuring to see the evidence of time proceeding as it was meant to, seeds unfurling, buds breaking, daffodils pushing through the soil; a covenant of how the world should be and might again.

It is precisely this “evidence of time proceeding as it was meant to” that has the power to hold humans calmly in place. We may imagine we want more than this from life; despising dullness, we think we crave excitement and change. But given the option, few would choose to wake to an Orwellian “bright cold day in April” to find “the clocks were striking thirteen”, which is how it felt during those nightmarish early days of the COVID-19 crisis.

Life on earth does still feel somewhat bright and cold, its future somewhat bleak; it is as if Orwell’s dystopian vision is at last catching up with us.

Who would believe an activity so apparently humble as gardening could come to the rescue of millions of stressed and fearful people? Yet gardeners seem to know this instinctively.

Tending ourselves

In the book In Kiltumper: a Year in an Irish Garden, co-written with her husband, Niall Williams, Irish writer and gardener Christine Breen describes the ordeal of undergoing cancer treatment through the Irish healthcare system. Following an oncology appointment in Galway, the couple drives home towards west Clare, or as Christine puts it: “back to the garden, where there is safety”.

Christine’s husband Niall confirms that, although the medical community might dismiss the healing power of working in a garden as “airey-fairy”, in Christine’s case, even while weak from chemotherapy, “going about the flower beds, trying to do exactly the same work she had always done” meant continuity.

It represented “carrying on living, because that is one of the prime lessons any garden teaches you: the garden grows on”. He speculates that after many years together, garden and gardener become one: “when we tend it, we tend some part of ourselves”.

If we know this, we too often forget. Consequently, garden centres rarely top the list of most desirable destinations, and gardening has been traditionally represented as fussy and domestic. Weeding and mowing are seen as chores that, if possible, are to be avoided.

In her book Why Women Grow, Alice Vincent writes that gardening has “so many associations, of neatness and nicety; a prissiness that feels deeply removed […] from the sex and death and life on show in every growing thing.” She writes: “When we garden, we change how a small part of the world works.”

Doubtless, it was this sense of being able to change one’s world, of seizing control, that appealed to so many of us during the pandemic. And if we got our hands into the soil, we were rewarded with much-needed infusions of serotonin.

In literature, too, people suffering physically or mentally, or both, have often sought refuge or found solace in a garden.

For many readers, their first encounter with the transformative nature of gardening was Frances Hodgson Burnett’s classic children’s book, The Secret Garden. In it, a spoilt yet neglected child, Mary Lennox, is orphaned in India when her parents and their servants succumb to cholera. She is bundled off to Yorkshire, England, to a daunting atmosphere of secrecy and neglect at Misselthwaite Manor, into the care of an uncle she has never met. There, Mary soon discovers the key to a garden that has been locked for years following her aunt’s death.

In her efforts to restore life to the neglected garden, Mary herself is restored, gradually shedding the lonely, helpless persona of her Indian childhood. When she discovers the manor’s other tightly held secret – her sickly, bedridden cousin, Colin – Mary manages to get him, too, out of the house and into the garden. The outcome is healing for the children, and eventually for Mary’s grieving uncle.

Green prescriptions

For a real-life example of green relief, in The Well Gardened Mind, Sue Stuart-Smith describes how her grandfather – a submariner in the first world war – was taken prisoner during the Gallipoli campaign. After a series of brutal labour camps in Turkey, the last of them in a cement factory, he eventually escaped.

But after the long journey home he was so severely malnourished he was given only a few months to live. Crucial to regaining his health was the devoted nursing by his fiancée, followed by a year-long horticultural course set up to rehabilitate ex-servicemen.

A psychiatrist as well as a gardener, Stuart-Smith writes of the therapeutic effects of working with our hands in a protected space. She describes how gardening allows our inner and outer worlds “to coexist free from the pressures of everyday life”.

Gardens, she writes, are an “in-between space which can be a meeting place for our innermost, dream-infused selves and the real physical world”. In a garden, we are able to hear and process our own, sometimes turbulent, thoughts.

In 1986, after being diagnosed HIV positive, the English artist and filmmaker Derek Jarman retreated to the Kent coast near the nuclear power station at Dungeness. In The Garden Against Time, Olivia Laing writes that at Prospect Cottage, Jarman

began with stones, not plants: the grey flints he called dragon’s teeth, revealed by the tide on morning walks.

Gradually he established a garden in the inhospitable soil, seeing it as “a therapy and a pharmacopoeia” – and “a place of total absorption”.

It was this capacity to slow or stop time, as much as its wild and sportive beauty, that made it such a paradise-haunted place.

The pandemic spread waves of turbulence across the globe. In April 2021, as part of its post-COVID recovery plan, the government of the United Kingdom launched a two-year green social prescription pilot.

Project-managed by the National Health Service, the program worked across seven test sites: areas disproportionately affected by the pandemic. These included people living in deprived areas and people with mental health conditions, many of them from ethnic minority communities.

Over the course of the two-year program, more than 8,500 people were referred to a green social prescribing activity. Green networks were established in all seven test sites. Findings showed positive improvements in mental health and wellbeing – and green social prescribing is ongoing, proof of the program’s lasting impact.

In recent times, doctors in some countries are writing green prescriptions, rather than scripts for medication. And not just for mental health problems, but for physical conditions such as high blood pressure, diabetes and lung diseases.

In the late 1990s, New Zealand became one of the first countries where GPs used green prescriptions to encourage patients to increase their levels of physical activity. Japanese clinicians have been advocating “shinrin-yoku”, or forest bathing for decades. In Finland, with its long dark winters, five hours a month is regarded as a “minimum dose” of contact with nature.

Aside from the physical benefits, time spent in a garden can provide a mood boost for those of us who feel oppressed by calendars, and by clock time’s relentless march. In her 2018 memoir Life in the Garden, Penelope Lively writes:

To garden is to elide past, present and future; it is a defiance of time. You garden today for tomorrow, the garden mutates from season to season, always the same but always different.

Perhaps no group of people stands in greater need of time-defiance than those of us entering the final decades of our lives. Time is short, and we know it. But as now 92-year-old Lively wrote seven years ago: “A garden is never just now; it suggests yesterday and tomorrow; it does not allow time its steady progress.”

Gardening as defiance

My mother pottered in her garden until she was in her early 90s, pruning roses, pulling weeds, planting annuals and throwing down fertiliser. She’d wrestle her walker across the lawn to perch on its seat while she did the watering, before retreating to an armchair in the back room of her house, from where she could admire her achievements.

Gardening in extreme old age was, for her, an act of defiance – against time, and against her children, who nagged about the possibility of a fall and insisted she wear an emergency call button. It was a defiance, too, of the common view that old people should relinquish their homes with gardens and move into something more manageable.

On the face of it, not having a garden to maintain in old age makes perfect sense, but it may come at the expense of our human impulse to seek connection with living things, specifically those in the natural world. So ingrained is our instinct to connect with nature, it appears to survive even when other systems and connections have broken down.

A friend whose Alzheimer’s-afflicted husband is in residential care reports he is constantly finding odd containers, filling them with soil, and planting cuttings gathered from the care home’s garden. He crams them onto his windowsill, even planting in teacups when there is nothing else to hand.

Accustomed to gardening throughout his adult life, his impulse to work with living things persists in defiance of dementia. My friend reflects her mother used to do the same, only she would take pieces from the home’s fake indoor plants, then complain bitterly when they did not grow.

In the care facility my friend visits daily, women pick flowers in the grounds to decorate their walkers, and when there are no flowers they’ll use pictures of flowers cut from magazines. Cutting out paper flowers seems like the action of someone whose garden has been lost, but who still feels a powerful desire to connect with beauty and the natural world.

Imagined gardens

The theories of 20th-century historian Theodore Roszak, in his book The Voice of The Earth, founded the ecopsychology movement.

He believed “humans connect with nature through the ecological unconscious, which is the core of human identity”. Human nature, he wrote, is “densely embedded in the world we share with animal, vegetable, mineral”. He believed reconnecting with nature helps people become more aware of their connection to all living things.

So what are we to do if the garden has been lost?

The French writer Colette, whose books were full of botanical detail, did not cease gardening even when age and arthritis kept her bedridden. Rather than physical gardens, Colette roamed imagined gardens.

There is nothing so terrible about not having a garden any more. The worrying thing would be if the future garden, whose reality is of no importance, were beyond my grasp. But it is not.

Colette planned her “tomorrow garden”, specifying pansies “with wide faces, beards, and moustaches – that look like Henry VIII”. Nothing is too difficult for the imaginative gardener. “An arbour? Naturally I shall have an arbour. I’m not down to my last arbour yet.”

Imagining a garden may seem fanciful. Yet it is less so if considered in the context of embodied semantics – a process where brain connectivity during a thought-about action mirrors the connectivity that occurs during the actual action. (For example, thinking about running or swimming can trigger some of the same neural connections as the physical actions.)

It’s been shown that habitual negativity rewires the brain. Ultimately, it damages it by shrinking the hippocampus: one of the main areas destroyed by Alzheimer’s disease.

But gardens, with their earth-centred sense of time and season, are optimistic places. Watching things grow, deadheading spent flowers and saving seed for the return of spring, are just some of the forward-looking aspects of gardening and perhaps it works as well if the plants and flowers are imagined.

It is logical to go further and ask whether a positive habit, such as imagining a garden, has the potential to help rewire one’s brain in a good way. Imagined gardening is really a form of self-guided imagery, a practice with many applications in the treatment of pain, stress, anxiety and depression.

As we age, ideally we would find ways of getting our hands into the healing soil. Suggestions for gardening in old age, and extreme old age, include introducing raised beds to reduce bending, or working with potted plants.

A friend in her late 70s, with an enviable garden, swears by her Garden Group. Around a dozen friends come together for working bees in each other’s gardens. “You can get a huge amount done in an hour-and-a-half,” she says. Afterwards, they share morning tea – so it is a social as well as practical endeavour. My own best tip is to garden little and often. Committing to half an hour a day, or even 15 minutes, adds up nicely over the course of a week.

American poet May Sarton wrote of gardening as “an instrument of grace”. She regarded the natural world as the great teacher. From the Benedictine Monastery of Saint Paul de Mausole at Saint-Remy-de-Provence, Vincent Van Gogh wrote to his mother: “But for one’s health, as you say, it is very necessary to work in the garden and see the flowers growing.”

Like Monet, Van Gogh needed flowers. We all do. It’s just that many of us forget this during the push and pull of daily life. And in forgetting, we lose touch with our biophilic natures.

Carol Lefevre, Visiting Research Fellow, Department of English and Creative Writing, University of Adelaide

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

The Coalition has announced it would, if elected to government, weaken a scheme aimed at cutting car emissions.

The scheme, known as the New Vehicle Efficiency Standard (NVES), was introduced by the Albanese government and was due to take effect in July. It involved issuing penalties to automakers that breach an emissions ceiling on their total new car sales.

The new Coalition plan, announced this week, would see such penalties abolished.

But the penalties are crucial. Without penalties, automakers have limited incentive to supply fuel efficient, low or zero-CO₂ emitting vehicles to the Australian market.

If this plan became government policy, it would make Australia an international outlier – and put at risk Australia’s ability to meet its obligations under the Paris climate agreement.

An international outlier

More than 85% of the international car market is covered by fuel efficiency standards.

Without a robust New Vehicle Efficiency Standard scheme, complete with penalties for automakers that break the rules, Australia would join Russia in the tiny minority of developed countries without strong fuel efficiency standards for new vehicles.

Abolishing the penalties embedded in the scheme also risks making Australia the world’s dumping ground for inefficient vehicles.

That’s because the penalties embedded in the scheme are there to incentivise automakers to sell more efficient vehicles in Australia.

The current scheme, as it is, is not particularly punitive. Automakers that breach their cap of emissions are given up to two years to fix their mistakes before being issued with a financial penalty.

Weakening the scheme won’t help make it easier for Australians to buy fuel-efficient cars.

Decarbonising Australian roads

The 2015 Paris Agreement, to which Australia is a signatory, requires developed nations to decarbonise their transport by as much as 80% by 2050.

Carbon emissions from Australian transport accounts for 21.1% of the nation’s emissions (to June 2023).

It represents the third largest source of greenhouse gas emissions in Australia.

Without measures aimed at making cars more fuel efficient, Australia’s CO₂ emissions will continue to rise. It will be harder to meet our commitments under the Paris Agreement.

It’s regulation, not a tax

The Coalition, which is hoping to pick up votes in outer-ring suburbs, has called the penalties embedded in the New Vehicle Efficiency Standard scheme a “car tax”.

Liberal leader Peter Dutton said this week:

This is a tax on families who need a reliable car and small businesses trying to grow. Instead of making life easier, Labor is making it harder and more expensive […] We want cleaner, cheaper cars on Australian roads as we head towards net zero by 2050, but forcing unfair penalties on carmakers and consumers is not the answer.

But these penalties are not a tax; they are a form of regulation. Automakers that meet the rules wouldn’t have to pay penalties, under the current scheme.

If the goal is to reduce people’s hip-pocket pain at the bowser, the focus should be on ensuring Australians can buy fuel-efficient vehicles.

That means incentivising automakers to bring fuel-efficient vehicles to the Australian market. It also means avoiding any policy that encourages carmakers to see Australia as a dumping ground for gas-guzzling vehicles.

Anna Mortimore, Lecturer, Griffith Business School, Griffith University

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

Swim along the edge of a coral reef and you’ll often see schools of sleek, torpedo-shaped fishes gliding through the currents, feeding on tiny plankton from the water column.

For decades, scientists assumed these plankton-feeding fishes – or planktivores – shared specialised traits: forked tails and streamlined body forms for speed, large eyes for spotting small prey, and small extendable jaws for suction-feeding.

But our new study, published in Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries, shows there is more nuance to this story. We found plankton-feeding fishes don’t follow a single uniform design. To our surprise, they display the widest range of body forms of any feeding group among reef fishes.

Evolving similar traits

A core idea in evolutionary theory since Charles Darwin is that species facing the same problem often evolve similar traits. This is a process known as convergent evolution. It explains the pattern we see among dolphins, sharks, and tunas – distantly related lineages unified in their streamlined body shape used for fast swimming.

We set out to test whether the same phenomenon was true for plankton-feeding reef fishes. Planktivores are an ideal group to study in this case.

For one, plankton-feeding is the most common feeding group among reef fishes – giving us many distantly related species to compare. For another, they all share the same challenge of having to spot and suck out small prey from the water column.

So we asked: do plankton-feeding fishes have a distinct body shape? And do patterns of convergence hold true across a diversity of plankton-feeding reef fishes?

The broadest range of body shapes

To answer these questions, we collected shape data from nearly 300 species of reef fishes from 12 globally distributed families – including surgeonfishes, wrasses, snappers, and damselfishes. We measured 15 feeding, swimming, and vision-related traits such as jaw length, tail shape, and pupil size.

By combining these measurements with evolutionary trees, we tested whether plankton-feeding fishes were distinct in shape to their counterparts.

But what we found surprised us. Plankton-feeding fishes aren’t converging on a specific body shape. It is quite the opposite – they display the broadest range of body shapes among reef fishes. Some species – such as the schooling fusiliers – truly fit the typical “plankton-feeding” model. They exhibit traits such as a forked tail, torpedo-shaped body, large eyes, and small, extendable jaws.

But most others break the mould entirely. For example, tiny gobies – just three centimetres long – cling onto whip corals and adopt a sit-and-wait approach for plankton to pass by.

Other deep-bodied damselfishes depart a small distance from their coral hosts to feed on plankton. But how can we explain this diversity of planktivore body shapes?

An innate ability

The answer lies in the vast diversity of their behaviours and environments.

Their body shape isn’t dictated by plankton-feeding alone – it’s shaped by where, when and how they feed. Some planktivores feed during the day, others at night. Some inhabit deep reefs, others are mere metres below the surface of the water. Some are restricted to rubble slopes while others prefer the reef edge. Some even target specific sizes and types of the plankton itself.

This diversity in activity patterns, habitat use, and prey preferences places different demands on their body forms – explaining why we see such a range of shapes and sizes among plankton-feeding fishes.

Even species we don’t typically think of as planktivores will feed on plankton when the chance arises. Just last year, while on Lizard Island, we watched yellowmask surgeonfishes – normally feeding on algae and detritus – swimming high above the reef, targeting plankton.

Perhaps this flexibility shouldn’t surprise us. After all, all reef fishes begin their lives as plankton feeders, floating in the open ocean before settling on the reef. The ability for fishes to feed on plankton is likely innate.

Challenging a longstanding assumption

Our findings challenge the longstanding assumption that planktivorous reef fishes are distinct in form and are converging towards an optimum body type.

Instead, plankton-feeding is a highly accessible and flexible feeding strategy on coral reefs – available to fishes of many shapes, sizes, evolutionary histories, and even different feeding groups.

This has important implications for how we think about reef fish ecology and evolution. It shows that broad feeding categories like “planktivore” can mask the diversity of other behavioural and ecological traits.

Rather than converging on a single solution, reef fishes highlight something different: that there is more than one way to be a planktivore.

Isabelle Ng, PhD candidate, College of Science and Engineering, James Cook University and Alexandre Siqueira, Vice-Chancellor's Research Fellow, School of Science, Edith Cowan University

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

Australia’s relationship with its regional neighbours could be in doubt under a Coalition government after two Pacific leaders challenged Opposition Leader Peter Dutton over his weak climate stance.

This week, Palau’s president Surangel Whipps Jr suggested a 2015 gaffe by Dutton, in which he joked about rising seas lapping at the door of Pacific islanders, had not been forgotten. Speaking at a clean energy conference in Sydney, Whipps said the Pacific’s plight was “not a metaphor or a punchline. It’s our fear and reality.”

And Tuvalu’s Climate Change Minister, Maina Talia, this month criticised Dutton for suggesting a joint Australia–Pacific bid to host global climate talks next year was “madness”. Talia said Dutton’s comments caused Pacific leaders to “question the nature of our friendship” with Australia.

Both Labor and Coalition governments have worked hard this decade to cement Australia as a security partner of choice for Pacific nations, as China seeks to expand its influence. Australia’s next government must continue this work by signalling an unwavering commitment to strong climate action.

What are the major parties offering on climate policy?

Worsening climate change – with associated sea-level rise and other harms – is the greatest threat to Pacific island nations.

Pacific leaders have long criticised Australia for its climate policy shortcomings, including its continued reliance on fossil fuels. As Palau’s president Whipps told the ABC this week:

We are urging Australia – and whoever forms the next government – to take the next steps and stop approving new fossil fuel projects and accelerate the phase-out of coal and gas.

The Labor government has not agreed to the phase-out. But it has sought to improve Pacific ties through more ambitious climate action.

In 2022, it introduced a stronger emissions-reduction target – a 43% cut this decade, based on 2005 levels. The same year, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese joined Pacific leaders to declare a climate emergency.

In 2023, Australia signed a climate migration deal with Tuvalu. It also prevents Tuvalu from pursuing a security deal with China.

A Coalition government would review Australia’s 43% cut to emissions. It would also expand gas production, and slow the shift to renewables while building seven nuclear reactors. Dutton is also considering weakening Australia’s signature climate policy, the safeguard mechanism, which aims to reduce industry emissions.

And last month, Dutton suggested the Coalition would ditch the Australia–Pacific bid to host the next United Nations climate summit, known as COP31.

How will this go down in the Pacific?

Australia has dramatically stepped up engagement with Pacific island countries in recent years. This has been guided by the foreign policy goal of integrating Pacific countries into Australia’s economy and security institutions.

But Pacific island leaders also expect Australia – the largest member of the Pacific Islands Forum – to seriously tackle the climate crisis. Should Australia fail on this measure, securing our place in the region during a time of growing strategic competition will become increasingly difficult.

Pacific leaders welcomed Australia’s plans to host the COP31 climate talks and agreed to work with this nation on the joint bid. If Dutton wins power and abandons the COP31 push, he could face a frosty reception when he meets with Pacific island leaders.

Palau, in particular, could embarrass Dutton on the global stage. It will host the Pacific Islands Forum meeting next year, weeks before the COP31 talks. This year, Palau also takes over as chair of the Alliance of Small Island States, an important negotiating bloc in global climate talks.

Countering China’s influence

Australia’s leadership in the Pacific is considered key to our national defence and security. But China’s growing power in the Pacific has weakened Australia’s standing.

In 2022, for example, Solomon Islands signed a security deal with China to allow naval vessels to be based there – effectively allowing a Chinese military base on Australia’s doorstep. As recently as February this year, the Cook Islands signed a series of agreements with China to enhance cooperation.

At the same time, the Trump administration has all but abandoned the United States’ overseas aid program. This leaves Australia with even more work to counter China’s creep into the region.

In last month’s federal budget, Labor redirected aid money to the Pacific to counteract Trump’s cuts. However, Liberal backbenchers reportedly fear Dutton would cut the foreign aid budget and warn a reduction in Pacific aid would strengthen Beijing’s hand.

Climate policy is key to Australia-Pacific goodwill

Australia’s past failures on climate policy have hurt our standing in the Pacific – a point conceded by senior Coalition figure Simon Birmingham.

A Coalition government is likely to continue some diplomatic measures initiated by the Albanese government, such as security agreements with Tuvalu and Nauru, and negotiating a new defence treaty with Papua New Guinea.

But the depth of feeling among Pacific leaders on climate action cannot be overstated. As global geopolitical tensions sharpen, Australia’s next moves on climate policy will be vital to the future of our Pacific relationship.

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

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

Coral reefs are much more than just a pretty place to visit. They are among the world’s richest ecosystems, hosting about a third of all marine species.

These reefs also directly benefit more than a billion people, providing livelihoods and food security, as well as protection from storms and coastal erosion.

Without coral reefs, the world would be a much poorer place. So when corals die or become damaged, many people try to restore them. But the enormity of the task is growing as the climate keeps warming.

In our new research, we examined the full extent of existing coral restoration projects worldwide. We looked at what drives their success or failure, and how much it would actually cost to restore what’s already been lost. Restoring the reefs we’ve already lost around the world could cost up to A$26 trillion.

Global losses

Sadly, coral reefs are suffering all over the world. Global warming and marine heatwaves are the main culprits. But overfishing and pollution make matters worse.

When sea temperatures climb above the seasonal average for sustained periods, corals can become bleached. They lose colour as they expel their symbiotic algae when stressed, revealing the white skeleton underneath. Severe bleaching can kill coral.

Coral bleaching and mass coral deaths are now commonplace. Last month, a massive warm-water plume bleached large areas of Ningaloo Reef on Australia’s northwest coast just as large sections of the northern Great Barrier Reef were bleaching on the northeast coast.

Since early 2023, mass coral bleaching has occurred in throughout the tropics and parts of the Indian Ocean.

Over the past 40 years, the extent of coral reefs has halved. As climate change continues, bleaching events and coral deaths will become more common. More than 90% of coral reefs are at risk of long-term degradation by the end of the century.

Direct intervention

Coral reef restoration can take many forms, including removing coral-eating species such as parrot fish, transferring coral spawn, or even manipulating the local community of microbes to improve coral survival.

But by far the most common type of restoration is “coral gardening”, where coral fragments grown in nurseries are transplanted back to the reef.

The problem is scale. Coral restoration can only be done successfully at a small scale. Most projects only operate over several hundred or a few thousand square metres. Compare that with nearly 12,000 square km of loss and degradation between 2009 and 2018. Restoration projects come nowhere near the scale needed to offset losses from climate change and other threats.

Sky-high costs

Coral restoration is expensive, ranging from around $10,000 to $226 million per hectare. The wide range reflects the variable costs of different techniques used, ease of access, and cost of labour. For example, coral gardening (coral fragments grown in nurseries transplanted back to the reef) is relatively cheap (median cost $558,000 per hectare) compared with seeding coral larvae (median $830,000 per hectare). Building artificial reefs can cost up to $226 million per hectare.

We estimated it would cost more than $1.6 billion to restore just 10% of degraded coral areas globally. This is using the lowest cost per hectare and assuming all restoration projects are successful.

Even our conservative estimate is four times more than the total investment in coral restoration over the past decade ($410 million).

But it’s reasonable to use the highest cost per hectare, given high failure rates, the need to use several techniques at the same site, and the great expense of working on remote reefs. Restoring 10% of degraded coral areas globally, at $226 million a hectare, would cost more than $26 trillion – almost ten times Australia’s annual GDP.

It is therefore financially impossible to tackle the ongoing loss of coral reefs with restoration, even if local projects can still provide some benefits.

Location, location, location

Our research also looked at what drives the choice of restoration sites. We found it depends mostly on how close a reef is to human settlements.

By itself, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But we also found restoration actions were more likely to occur in reefs already degraded by human activity and with fewer coral species.

This means we’re not necessarily targeting sites where restoration is most likely to succeed, or of greatest ecological importance.

Another limitation is coral gardening normally involves only a few coral species – the easiest to rear and transplant. While this can still increase coral cover, it does not restore coral diversity to the extent necessary for healthy, resilient ecosystems.

Measuring ‘success’

Another sad reality is that more than a third of all coral restoration efforts fail. The reasons why can include poor planning, unproven technologies, insufficient monitoring, and subsequent heatwaves.

Unfortunately, there’s no standard way to collect data or report on restoration projects. This makes it difficult – or impossible – to identify conditions leading to success, and reduces the pace of improvement.

Succeed now, fail later

Most coral transplants are monitored for less than 18 months. Even if they survive that period, there’s no guarantee they will last longer. The long-term success rate is unknown.

When we examined the likelihood of extreme heat events immediately following restoration and in coming decades, we found most restored sites had already experienced severe bleaching shortly after restoration. It will be difficult to find locations that will be spared from future global warming.

No substitute for climate action

Coral restoration has the potential to be a valuable tool in certain circumstances: when it promotes community engagement and addresses local needs. But it is not yet – and might never be – feasible to scale up sufficiently to have meaningful long-term positive effects on coral reef ecosystems.

This reality check should stimulate constructive debate about when and where restoration is worthwhile. Without stemming the pace and magnitude of climate change, we have little power to save coral reefs from massive losses over the coming century and beyond.

Other conservation approaches such as establishing, maintaining and enforcing marine protected areas, and improving water quality, could improve the chance a coral restoration project will work. These efforts could also support local human communities with incentives for conservation.

Reinforcing complementary strategies could therefore bolster ecosystem resilience, extending the reach and success of coral restoration projects.

Corey J. A. Bradshaw, Matthew Flinders Professor of Global Ecology and Node Leader in the ARC Centre of Excellence for Indigenous and Environmental Histories and Futures, Flinders University; Clelia Mulà, PhD student in Marine Ecology, The University of Western Australia, and Giovanni Strona, Doctoral program supervisor, University of Helsinki

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

The details of a new visa enabling Tuvaluan citizens to permanently migrate to Australia were released this week.

The visa was created as part of a bilateral treaty Australia and Tuvalu signed in late 2023, which aims to protect the two countries’ shared interests in security, prosperity and stability, especially given the “existential threat posed by climate change”.

The Australia–Tuvalu Falepili Union, as it is known, is the world’s first bilateral agreement to create a special visa like this in the context of climate change.

Here’s what we know so far about why this special visa exists and how it will work.

Why is this migration avenue important?

The impacts of climate change are already contributing to displacement and migration around the world.

As a low-lying atoll nation, Tuvalu is particularly exposed to rising sea levels, storm surges and coastal erosion.

As Pacific leaders declared in a world-first regional framework on climate mobility in 2023, rights-based migration can “help people to move safely and on their own terms in the context of climate change.”

And enhanced migration opportunities have clearly made a huge difference to development challenges in the Pacific, allowing people to access education and work and send money back home.

As international development expert Professor Stephen Howes put it,

Countries with greater migration opportunities in the Pacific generally do better.

While Australia has a history of labour mobility schemes for Pacific peoples, this won’t provide opportunities for everyone.

Despite perennial calls for migration or relocation opportunities in the face of climate change, this is the first Australian visa to respond.

How does the new visa work?

The visa will enable up to 280 people from Tuvalu to move to Australia each year.

On arrival in Australia, visa holders will receive, among other things, immediate access to:

• education (at the same subsidisation as Australian citizens)
• Medicare
• the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS)
• family tax benefit
• childcare subsidy
• youth allowance.

They will also have “freedom for unlimited travel” to and from Australia.

This is rare. Normally, unlimited travel is capped at five years.

According to some experts, these arrangements now mean Tuvalu has the “second closest migration relationship with Australia after New Zealand”.

Reading the fine print

The technical name of the visa is Subclass 192 (Pacific Engagement).

The details of the visa, released this week, reveal some curiosities.

First, it has been incorporated into the existing Pacific Engagement Visa category (subclass 192) rather than designed as a standalone visa.

Presumably, this was a pragmatic decision to expedite its creation and overcome the significant costs of establishing a wholly new visa category.

But unlike the Pacific Engagement Visa – a different, earlier visa, which is contingent on applicants having a job offer in Australia – this new visa is not employment-dependent.

Secondly, the new visa does not specifically mention Tuvalu.

This would make it simpler to extend it to other Pacific countries in the future.

Who can apply, and how?

To apply, eligible people must first register their interest for the visa online. Then, they must be selected through a random computer ballot to apply.

The primary applicant must:

• be at least 18 years of age
• hold a Tuvaluan passport, and
• have been born in Tuvalu – or had a parent or a grandparent born there.

People with New Zealand citizenship cannot apply. Nor can anyone whose Tuvaluan citizenship was obtained through investment in the country.

This indicates the underlying humanitarian nature of the visa; people with comparable opportunities in New Zealand or elsewhere are ineligible to apply for it.

Applicants must also satisfy certain health and character requirements.

Strikingly, the visa is open to those “with disabilities, special needs and chronic health conditions”. This is often a bar to acquiring an Australian visa.

And the new visa isn’t contingent on people showing they face risks from the adverse impacts of climate change and disasters, even though climate change formed the backdrop to the scheme’s creation.

Settlement support is crucial

With the first visa holders expected to arrive later this year, questions remain about how well supported they will be.

The Explanatory Memorandum to the treaty says:

Australia would provide support for applicants to find work and to the growing Tuvaluan diaspora in Australia to maintain connection to culture and improve settlement outcomes.

That’s promising, but it’s not yet clear how this will be done.

A heavy burden often falls on diaspora communities to assist newcomers.

For this scheme to work, there must be government investment over the immediate and longer-term to give people the best prospects of thriving.

Drawing on experiences from refugee settlement, and from comparative experiences in New Zealand with respect to Pacific communities, will be instructive.

Extensive and ongoing community consultation is also needed with Tuvalu and with the Tuvalu diaspora in Australia. This includes involving these communities in reviewing the scheme over time.

Jane McAdam, Scientia Professor and ARC Laureate Fellow, Kaldor Centre for International Refugee Law, UNSW Sydney

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

Over the weekend, Labor promised to subsidise home batteries by 30%. This would save about A$4,000 per household up front for an average battery. The scheme has a goal of one million batteries by 2030, costing an estimated $2.3 billion.

The promise was received broadly favourably as a measure to help with cost of living pressures and encourage the broader shift to clean energy. Labor’s policy has some similarity to an earlier Greens pledge. Last month, the Coalition hinted it was working on its own home battery plan. Opposition leader Peter Dutton has attacked Labor’s plan, claiming the subsidies would benefit the rich.

Dutton makes a good point. Upfront subsidies have to be well targeted. If they’re not, they could easily go to wealthier households and leave poorer ones behind.

To fix it, Labor should start with lower subsidies – and means test them.

What’s the fuss about home batteries?

Homes with batteries can use stored solar energy instead of grid energy, or charge from the grid when power is cheap and use it when grid power is expensive. They can reduce power bills by around $1,000 a year.

Over 300,000 Australian households already have a home battery. Uptake was already accelerating in Australia and overseas, as battery prices fall and power prices climb.

If this policy leads to 1 million batteries by 2030 as Labor hopes, they would boost grid stability, reduce demand for expensive peak power from gas generators and even avoid the need to build some new transmission lines. These would be positive – if the benefits can be spread fairly.

Subsidies must be properly targeted

Caution is necessary, because we have seen very similar issues with previous schemes.

When solar panels were expensive in the 2000s, many state governments offered subsidies to encourage more households to put them on their roofs. On one level, this worked well – one third of all Australian households now have solar. But on another, it failed – richer households took up solar subsidies much more than poorer, as my research has shown. As solar prices have fallen, this imbalance has partly been corrected.

Home batteries are now in a similar situation. Installing an average sized home battery of between 5 and 10 kilowatt hours can cost less than $10,000, without the proposed federal subsidy. But this upfront cost means it’s currently largely wealthy households doing it, as I have shown in other research.

If Labor’s policy isn’t properly targeted, wealthier households are more likely to take it up. This is because they can more easily afford to spend the remaining cost. Studies on electric and other vehicle subsidies in the United States show at least half of the subsidies went to people who would have bought the vehicle regardless. That’s good for wealthy households, but unfair to others.

Targeting has advantages for governments, too. Proper targeting would reduce the cost to the public purse.

So who should be eligible?

Wealthier households are likely to be able to afford home batteries without the subsidy – especially as costs fall.

The cost of living crisis has hit less wealthy households hardest. A home battery policy should focus heavily on giving these households a way to reduce their power bills.

How can governments do this? Largely by means-testing. To qualify for the subsidy, households should have to detail their financial assets.

To begin with, a policy like this should only be eligible for households outside the top 25% for wealth.

What about the 31% of Australians who rent their homes? This diverse group requires careful thought.

Governments may have to offer extra incentives to encourage landlords to install home batteries. The solar roll-out shows landlords do benefit, as they can charge slightly higher rent for properties with solar.

How much should subsidies be?

Labor’s election offering of a 30% subsidy is too generous.

While home batteries can cost more than $10,000, cheaper battery options are now available and state incentive schemes are also emerging. Western Australia, for instance, will have its own generous battery subsidy scheme running before July 1.

Some households might be able to get subsidies at both state and national levels, which would cover most of the cost of a smaller battery.

When governments offer high subsidies at the start of a new scheme, there’s a real risk of a cost blowout.

To avoid this, governments should begin with the lowest subsidy which still encourages household investment. If low subsidies lead to low uptake, the government could then raise subsidies after an annual review.

Another option is to vary how much the subsidy is based on household wealth. Lower wealth households get higher subsidies (say $2,500) while higher wealth households get a much lower subsidy (say $500).

Governments could even consider equitable reverse auctions, where households with similar wealth compete for subsidies. Governments can then choose lower bids in the interest of cost-effectiveness.

At present, Labor’s policy would give higher subsidies for larger batteries. This isn’t ideal. On solar, there’s a lack of evidence higher subsidies lead to larger solar systems, while households with more wealth tend to get larger solar systems.

Good start, improvement needed

Labor’s home battery policy has been welcomed by many in the energy sector. But as it stands, we cannot be sure it will fairly share the benefits of home batteries.

If Labor or the Coalition does offer a well-targeted home battery policy, it would be world leading. Over time, it would directly help with the rising cost of living and ensure less wealthy households benefit.

Rohan Best, Senior Lecturer, Department of Economics, Macquarie University

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

As climate change wreaks havoc with the world’s oceans, future production of fish, crustaceans and other aquatic organisms is under threat.

Our new research shows how this disturbance will play out for Australia’s prawn industry, which is concentrated in Queensland. We found by 2100, sea level rise threatens to flood 98% of the state’s approved prawn areas.

The problem is not confined to prawns – Queensland barramundi farming is also at risk from sea-level rise. Climate change also poses challenges for other major seafood industries in Australia, including salmon in Tasmania.

Australian seafood is vital to our culture and diets, and the national economy. We must take steps now to ensure the aquaculture industry thrives in a warmer world.

Spotlight on Queensland prawns

Aquaculture refers to breeding, rearing and harvesting fish, crustaceans, algae and other organisms in water. Australia’s aquaculture industry is expected to be worth A$2.2 billion by 2028–29.

Aquaculture can involve a variety of methods, from ponds and sea cages to indoor tank systems and even giant ships.

Aquaculture is one of Queensland’s fastest-growing primary industries – partly due to burgeoning production in prawn farming.

Queensland is also expected to experience a 0.8m sea-level rise by 2100, under a high-emissions scenario. Our research investigated how this could affect the state’s aquaculture industry.

We did this by examining existing data on coastal inundation and erosion from sea-level rise, combined with data on current and future aquaculture production areas.

We found 43% of sites where aquaculture production is currently occurring are at risk from sea-level rise. Prawn farming is the most vulnerable.

About 98% of areas approved for prawn farming in Queensland are expected to be inundated by seawater by 2100. The risk includes 88% of areas currently producing prawns. Prawns are grown in large ponds on land near the coast with access to saltwater, which makes them particularly vulnerable to inundation. Annual prawn production losses due to sea-level rise could reach up to A$127.6 million by century’s end.

Inundation and coastal erosion can cause breaches in pond walls compromising their structural integrity. These risks may be amplified when sea-level rise coincides with coastal flooding. Rising seas can also increase salinity in surrounding soils and groundwater, further affecting ponds. Other aquaculture infrastructure, such as hatcheries, buildings, and roads, may also be disrupted.

The Gold Coast region – a prawn production hub – is particularly vulnerable. Damage caused by ex-Tropical Cyclone Alfred highlights the vulnerability of coastal infrastructure to extreme weather. This will only worsen as the planet warms.

Queensland barramundi farms also face a serious threat. Some 44% of areas producing barramundi are likely to be exposed to inundation, causing up to A$22.6 million in annual production losses. Meanwhile, two of Queensland’s designated “Aquaculture Development Areas” – regions earmarked by the state government for industry expansion – may be unsuitable due to future sea levels. Both are located in the Hinchinbrook Shire Council area.

Beyond rising seas

Globally and in Australia, climate change is posing myriad challenges to seafood farmers.

Rising water temperatures stress animals such as salmon, lowering oxygen levels which slows growth rates and increases their risk of disease. Such depletion is a particular concern in already low-oxygen environments, such as Tasmania’s Macquarie Harbour.

Ocean heatwaves can cause mass fish deaths and devastate production. In Tasmania in February, more than 5,500 tonnes of dead fish were dumped at southern Tasmanian waste facilities – a problem linked to warmer water temperatures.

Dead and decomposing fish can further alter oxygen levels in water, spread disease to wild populations and attract scavengers. In the Tasmanian case, fish remains washed up on public beaches, angering the public and leading to calls for greater industry regulation.

Extreme weather further complicates aquaculture operations. Storms, flooding and abnormal rain patterns can affect water salinity which impacts species growth and survival. They can also damage vital infrastructure, which may allow animals to escape.

This occurred in 2022, when repeated flooding and disease outbreaks on oyster farms in New South Wales led to complete stock losses, prolonged farm closures and workers being laid off.

Surviving a warmer future

Not all aquaculture operations will suffer under climate change. Warming waters can lead to longer growing seasons in temperate regions. It can also expand suitable habitat for tropical species such as tilapia, mussels and oysters. Regions previously inhospitable to aquaculture may become viable production zones.

For the countries and producers that are expected to suffer, those that plan for and adapt to climate shifts can minimise losses.

Key steps industry and government can take include:

• planning farms in lower-risk areas and relocating vulnerable sites

• implementing climate-resilient infrastructure and restoring coastal ecosystems near farms to buffer against climate impacts

• expanding to include diverse species and selectively breeding stock that can tolerate the changing conditions

• strategic government policies and planning, financial incentives, and investment in resilient infrastructure to help the industry stay ahead of climate risks.

With the right strategies, Australia’s aquaculture industry can adapt to a changing climate and continue to contribute to food security and community wellbeing.

Caitie Kuempel, Lecturer, School of Environment and Science, Griffith University and Marina Christofidis, PhD HDR Student & Water Infrastructure Analyst, Griffith University

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

Visitors to Australia are often shocked at having to declare an apple or wooden item under our biosecurity policies. Biosecurity policies are used to keep out pest species and diseases. But they’re expensive to uphold and people can question their worth.

The good news is, they work – and Antarctica’s strict biosecurity policies prove it.

Under the web of agreements governing Antarctica, cargo must be checked for any sign of plants, seeds, insects and rodents. Visitors must ensure the items they bring are clean.

In our new research, we analysed a century of data on how many species have been introduced to the icy continent and surrounding sub-Antarctic islands.

Though there’s little human presence here, many species have been introduced and several have established – including rodents, aphids, and weedy plants – in a surprisingly short time. But across most sub-Antarctic islands, we found the rate of introduced species has remained steady, or slowed, after biosecurity policies were introduced, even as more humans arrived.

The exception was the Antarctic continent itself, where species introductions are increasing. This is likely due to surging visitor numbers and inconsistent biosecurity efforts between different nations and tourist operators.

Our work shows biosecurity policies work – if they’re followed.

Biosecurity in the cold

Antartica and sub-Antarctic islands such as Heard and McDonald Islands have an exceptional richness of species. Wandering albatrosses and emperor penguins live nowhere else. Some islands are home to meadows of megaherbs.

Unfortunately, introduced species have had dramatic effects. Mice eat albatrosses alive. Midges entirely change the functioning of terrestrial systems. Weedy plants outcompete and displace unusual plants on several islands.

Antarctic environments are particularly susceptible to introduced species. New species tend to have faster life cycles and are more tolerant of disturbance. Most indigenous species evolved without predators or competitors.

As the climate heats up, introduced species get a boost. Warmer conditions make it easier for them to get their first foothold, and they do better with warmer climates than do the indigenous species.

These vulnerabilities are why nations responsible for sub-Antarctic islands and those who jointly govern Antarctica through the Antarctic Treaty put strict biosecurity protocols in place from the 1990s onwards.

These policies ban the deliberate introduction of new species and specify the measures visitors and cargo have to undergo to reduce the chance of new species being introduced accidentally.

These protocols include cleaning equipment, clothing and cargo. In many cases, these policies also require eradication of any potentially damaging species if found.

Is it worth it?

All this takes time and money. To do it properly requires many hours of inspections and specific facilities, among other things. Ongoing research is also needed, to ensure the policies keep working.

But eradication of species once established is often even more expensive. Costs are rising globally. Invasive species have cost Australia at least A$390 billion since the 1960s. Eradicating introduced rabbits, rats and mice from Australia’s Macquarie Island cost about A$25 million.

So, are our biosecurity efforts worth the cost?

Assessing the effectiveness of biosecurity policies is rare because it is difficult. To properly gauge effectiveness, you need data from before and after the policy came in. It’s also hard to pinpoint when a species made the jump to the cold; it’s harder to spot one new plant than a thriving population years after the first seeds took root.

We believe our work solves these problems. We collected data on species arrivals across the Antarctic region and corrected for biases using new mathematical approaches that account for differences in survey effort over time.

Most species introductions now happen by accident. Because introductions are closely tied to the numbers of visitors, we expected more species would arrive as visitor numbers grew. But on most sub-Antarctic islands, that didn’t happen. Species arrived at the same rate or more slowly than expected, even as more visitors came.

In other words, the policies are working.

Why is Antarctica the exception?

Since 1998, biosecurity policies for the Antarctic continent haven’t managed to slow the rates of introductions.

Newly introduced species are largely being found on the Antarctic Peninsula, where most tourists and scientists go. The peninsula has the mildest climate of the whole continent and is where Antarctica’s native flowering plants are found, as well as mosses, lichens and fungi.

The new arrivals include annual bluegrass which displaces native plants. Also arriving are invertebrates, such as midges and springtails which can alter how nutrients are cycled in soil and shift other ecosystem functions.

It’s not fully clear why biosecurity policies aren’t working as well on the continent as for the islands. Likely causes include inconsistencies in how biosecurity is policed by different nations, a rapidly warming climate and very rapidly growing numbers of people to the peninsula.

What does this mean for the world?

Introduced species are one of the largest environmental and economic challenges we face, according to an authoritative recent assessment.

This may seem surprising. But the unchecked impact of species such as red fire ants, varroa mite and feral pigs cost Australian farmers billions each year. Prevention is usually better – and cheaper – than the cure.

What our research shows is that biosecurity policies actually work to protect the environment and are likely to be cheaper than the cost of control or eradication. Introduced species now cost the global economy an estimated $423 billion annually.

Society and decision-makers can see environmental regulations as a cost without a benefit. Being able to show the real advantages of these regulations is vital.

Rachel Leihy, Ecologist, Arthur Rylah Institute for Environmental Research; Melodie McGeoch, Professor of Ecology, Monash University, and Steven Chown, Director, Securing Antarctica's Environmental Future and Professor of Biological Sciences, Monash University

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

One of the biggest challenges in predicting Antarctica’s deeply uncertain future is understanding exactly what’s driving its ice loss.

A vast network of lakes and streams lies beneath the thick ice sheet. This water can lubricate the ice, allowing it to slide more rapidly toward the ocean.

Our new research shows “subglacial water” plays a far larger role in Antarctic ice loss than previously thought. If it’s not properly accounted for, future sea-level rise may be vastly underestimated.

Including the effects of evolving subglacial water in ice sheet models can triple the amount of ice flowing to the ocean. This adds more than two metres to global sea levels by 2300, with potentially enormous consequences for coastal communities worldwide.

Understanding the role of subglacial water

Subglacial water forms when the base of the ice sheet melts. This occurs either due to friction from the movement of the ice, or geothermal heat from the bedrock below.

The presence of subglacial water enables ice to slide over the bedrock more easily. It can also cause further melting under ice shelves, leading to even faster ice loss.

So it’s crucial to understand how much subglacial water is generated and where it goes, as well as its effect on ice flow and further melting.

But subglacial water is largely invisible. Being hidden underneath an ice sheet more than two kilometres deep makes it incredibly difficult to observe.

Scientists can drill boreholes through hundreds to thousands of metres of ice to get to it. But that’s an expensive and logistically challenging process.

Alternatively, they can use ice-penetrating radar to “see” through the ice. Another technique called laser altimetry examines changes in the height of the ice at the surface. Bulges might appear when lakes under the ice sheet fill, or disappear when they empty.

More than 140 active subglacial lakes have been identified beneath Antarctica over the past two decades. These discoveries provide valuable insights. But vast regions — especially in East Antarctica — remain unexplored. Little is known about the connections between these lakes.

What we did and what we found

We used computer simulations to predict the influence of subglacial water on ice sheet behaviour.

We used two computer models:

• an advanced ice sheet model that simulates how the ice sheet flows and responds to climate.
• a specialised hydrology model that predicts subglacial water production and flow.

Then we explored how different assumptions about subglacial water pressure affect ice sheet dynamics. Specifically, we compared scenarios where water pressure was allowed to change over time against scenarios where it remained constant.

When the effects of changing subglacial water pressure were included in the model, the amount of ice flowing into the ocean under future climate nearly tripled.

These findings suggest many existing sea-level rise projections may be too low, because they do not fully account for the dynamic influence of subglacial water.

Our research highlights the urgent need to incorporate subglacial water dynamics into these models. Otherwise we risk significantly underestimating the rate and magnitude of future sea-level rise.

In the video below, the moving dark lines show where grounded ice begins to float. The left panel is a scenario where subglacial water is not included in the ice sheet model and the right panel is a scenario that includes the effects of evolving subglacial water.

A looming threat

Failing to account for subglacial water means global sea-level rise projections are underestimated by up to two metres by 2300.

A two-metre rise would put many coastal cities in extreme danger and potentially displace millions of people. The economic damage could reach trillions of dollars, damaging vital infrastructure and reshaping coastlines worldwide.

It also means the timing of future tipping points are underestimated too. This is the point at which the ice sheet mass loss becomes much more rapid and likely irreversible. In our study, most regions cross this threshold much earlier, some as soon as 2050. This is deeply concerning.

The way forward

Understanding Antarctica’s hidden water system is challenging. The potential for rapid, catastrophic and irreversible ice loss remains.

More observations are needed to improve our models, particularly from remote regions such as East Antarctica. Continuing to gather information from boreholes, ice-penetrating radar and satellites will help us better understand how the underside of the ice sheet behaves. These techniques can then be combined with computer simulations to enable more accurate projections of future ice loss and sea-level rise.

Our new research shows integrating subglacial water dynamics into ice sheet models is a top priority. Understanding this hidden threat is crucial as the world grapples with the consequences of global warming especially rising seas.

Chen Zhao, ARC DECRA Senior Research Fellow, Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies, University of Tasmania and Ben Galton-Fenzi, Principal Scientist, Australian Antarctic Division

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

Rising seas are already affecting coastal communities in Aotearoa New Zealand. On a global average, the sea level is now 18 centimetres higher than it was in 1900, and the annual rate of increase has been accelerating to currently 4.4 millimetres per year.

This may not seem much, but it is already amplifying the impact of storm and tidal surges. Over the coming decades and centuries, this will pose increasingly serious problems for all coastal communities.

But this is not the end of our troubles. Some parts of New Zealand’s coastline are also sinking. In many New Zealand cities, shorelines are steadily subsiding, with growing impacts on coastal infrastructure.

Our new research reveals where and how fast this is happening. We found the coastlines near all major cities in New Zealand are sinking a few millimetres each year, with some of the fastest rates in coastal suburbs of Christchurch, where the land is still adjusting to the impact of the 2011 earthquake.

Relative increase in sea level

Sea-level rise is happening globally because the ocean is expanding as it continues to warm and glaciers and polar ice sheets are melting.

Meanwhile, land subsidence operates on regional or local scales, but it can potentially double or triple the effects of sea-level rise in certain places. This dual effect of rising seas and sinking land is know as relative sea-level rise and it gives coastal communities a more accurate projection of what they need to prepare for.

To understand which parts of the coast are most at risk requires detailed and precise measurements of land subsidence. The key to this is to observe Earth from space.

We have used a technique known as interferometric synthetic aperture radar (InSAR). This involves the repeat acquisition of satellite radar images of the Earth’s surface, tied to very accurate global navigation satellite system measurements of ground stations.

This builds on earlier work by the NZSeaRise project, which measured vertical land movement for every two kilometres of New Zealand’s coastline. Our study uses a significantly higher resolution (every ten metres in most places) and more recent datasets, highlighting previously missed parts of urban coastlines.

Urban hotspots

For instance, in Christchurch the previous NZSeaRise dataset showed very little subsidence at Southshore and New Brighton. The big differences in the new data are not due to the increase in spatial resolution, but because the rate of vertical land movement is very different from the time prior to the 2011 earthquake.

Localised subsidence in these Christchurch suburbs is up to 8mm per year, among the fastest rates of urban subsidence we observed. These areas sit upon natural coastal sand dunes above the source area of the earthquake and the Earth’s crust is still responding to that sudden change in stress.

We have tracked vertical movement of the land with millimetre-scale precision for five major cities in New Zealand. The InSAR technique works particularly well in urban areas because the smooth surface of pavements, roads and buildings better reflects the satellite radar beam back into space where it is picked up by the orbiting satellite.

This means the estimates of relative sea-level rise for these cities are close to or above 7mm per year. If sustained, this amounts to around 70cm of sea-level rise per century – enough to seriously threaten most sea defences.

Our new satellite measurements provide a detailed picture of urban subsidence, even within single suburbs. It can vary by as much as 10mm per year between parts of a city, as this map of Dunedin and the Otago Harbour shows.

We found hotspots of very rapidly sinking regions. They tend to match areas of land that have been modified, particularly along the waterfront. During the 20th century, many acres of land were reclaimed from the ocean, and this new land is still compacting, creating an unstable base for the overlying infrastructure.

One example of this is in Porirua Harbour, where a section of reclaimed land near the mouth of Porirua Stream is sinking at 3–5mm per year. This is more than double the average rate for Porirua’s coast.

Paradoxically, perhaps, it is only by looking back on our planet from outer space that we can begin to see with sufficient detail what is happening to the land in our own backyard.

The good news is that we can use the results to identify coastlines that are particularly vulnerable to sea-level rise and plan accordingly for any future development. Our new measurements are just the first step in what must become a major effort to watch the ups and downs of our coastlines and urban areas.

Jesse Kearse, Postdoctoral Researcher, Geophysics, Kyoto University

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

Nearly three fourths of Earth is covered by oceans, making the planet look like a pale blue dot from space. But Japanese researchers have made a compelling case that Earth’s oceans were once green, in a study published in Nature.

The reason Earth’s oceans may have looked different in the ancient past is to do with their chemistry and the evolution of photosynthesis. As a geology undergraduate student, I was taught about the importance of a type of rock deposit known as the banded iron formation in recording the planet’s history.

Banded iron formations were deposited in the Archean and Paleoproterozoic eons, roughly between 3.8 and 1.8 billion years ago. Life back then was confined to one cell organisms in the oceans. The continents were a barren landscape of grey, brown and black rocks and sediments.

Rain falling on continental rocks dissolved iron which was then carried to the oceans by rivers. Other sources of iron were volcanoes on the ocean floor. This iron will become important later.

The Archaean eon was a time when Earth’s atmosphere and ocean were devoid of gaseous oxygen, but also when the first organisms to generate energy from sunlight evolved. These organisms used anaerobic photosynthesis, meaning they can do photosynthesis in the absence of oxygen.

It triggered important changes as a byproduct of anaerobic photosynthesis is oxygen gas. Oxygen gas bound to iron in seawater. Oxygen only existed as a gas in the atmosphere once the seawater iron could neutralise no more oxygen.

Eventually, early photosynthesis led to the “great oxidation event”, a major ecological turning point that made complex life on Earth possible. It marked the transition from a largely oxygen free Earth to one with large amounts of oxygen in the ocean and atmosphere.

The “bands” of different colours in banded iron formations record this shift with an alternation between deposits of iron deposited in the absence of oxygen and red oxidised iron.

The case for green oceans

The recent paper’s case for green oceans in the Archaean eon starts with an observation: waters around the Japanese volcanic island of Iwo Jima have a greenish hue linked to a form of oxidised iron - Fe(III). Blue-green algae thrive in the green waters surrounding the island.

Despite their name, blue-green algae are primitive bacteria and not true algae. In the Archaean eon, the ancestors of modern blue-green algae evolved alongside other bacteria that use ferrous iron instead of water as the source of electrons for photosynthesis. This points to high levels of iron in the ocean.

Photosynthetic organisms use pigments (mostly chlorophyll) in their cells to transform CO₂ into sugars using the energy of the sun. Chlorophyll gives plants their green colour. Blue-green algae are peculiar because they carry the common chlorophyll pigment, but also a second pigment called phycoerythrobilin (PEB).

In their paper, the researchers found that genetically engineered modern blue-green algae with PEB grow better in green waters. Although chlorophyll is great for photosynthesis in the spectra of light visible to us, PEB seems to be superior in green-light conditions.

Before the rise of photosynthesis and oxygen, Earth’s oceans contained dissolved reduced iron (iron deposited in the absence of oxygen). Oxygen released by the rise of photosynthesis in the Archean eon then led to oxidised iron in seawater. The paper’s computer simulations also found oxygen released by early photosynthesis led to a high enough concentration of oxidised iron particles to turn the surface water green.

Once all iron in the ocean was oxidised, free oxygen (0₂) existed in Earth’s oceans and atmosphere. So a major implication of the study is that pale-green dot worlds viewed from space are good candidates planets to harbour early photosynthetic life.

The changes in ocean chemistry were gradual. The Archaean period lasted 1.5 billion years. This is more than half of Earth’s history. By comparison, the entire history of the rise and evolution of complex life represents about an eighth of Earth’s history.

Almost certainly, the colour of the oceans changed gradually during this period and potentially oscillated. This could explain why blue-green algae evolved both forms of photosynthetic pigments. Chlorophyll is best for white light which is the type of sunlight we have today. Taking advantage of green and white light would have been an evolutionary advantage.

Could oceans change colour again?

The lesson from the recent Japanese paper is that the colour of our oceans are linked to water chemistry and the influence of life. We can imagine different ocean colours without borrowing too much from science fiction.

Purple oceans would be possible on Earth if the levels of sulphur were high. This could be linked to intense volcanic activity and low oxygen content in the atmosphere, which would lead to the dominance of purple sulphur bacteria.

Red oceans are also theoretically possible under intense tropical climates when red oxidised iron forms from the decay of rocks on the land and is carried to the oceans by rivers or winds. Or if a type of algae linked to “red tides” came to dominate the surface oceans.

These red algae are common in areas with intense concentration of fertiliser such as nitrogen. In the modern oceans, this tends to happen in coastline close to sewers.

As our sun ages, it will first become brighter leading to increased surface evaporation and intense UV light. This may favour purple sulphur bacteria living in deep waters without oxygen.

It will lead to more purple, brown, or green hues in coastal or stratified areas, with less deep blue colour in water as phytoplankton decline. Eventually, oceans will evaporate completely as the sun expands to encompass the orbit of Earth.

At geological timescales nothing is permanent and changes in the colour of our oceans are therefore inevitable.

Cédric M. John, Professor and Head of Data Science for the Environment and Sustainability, Queen Mary University of London

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

“Out of sight, out of mind” is how we often treat what is flushed down our toilets. But the drugs we take, from anxiety medications to antibiotics, don’t simply vanish after leaving our bodies. Many are not fully removed by wastewater treatment systems and end up in rivers, lakes and streams, where they can linger and affect wildlife in unexpected ways.

In our new study, we investigated how a sedative called clobazam, commonly prescribed for sleep and anxiety disorders, influences the migration of juvenile Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) from the River Dal in central Sweden to the Baltic Sea.

Our findings suggest that even tiny traces of drugs in the environment can alter animal behaviour in ways that may shape their survival and success in the wild.

A recent global survey of the world’s rivers found drugs were contaminating waterways on every continent – even Antarctica. These substances enter aquatic ecosystems not only through our everyday use, as active compounds pass through our bodies and into sewage systems, but also due to improper disposal and industrial effluents.

To date, almost 1,000 different active pharmaceutical substances have been detected in environments worldwide.

Particularly worrying is the fact that the biological targets of many of these drugs, such as receptors in the human brain, are also present in a wide variety of other species. That means animals in the wild can also be affected.

In fact, research over the last several decades has demonstrated that pharmaceutical pollutants can disrupt a wide range of traits in animals, including their physiology, development and reproduction.

Pharmaceutical pollution in the wild

The behavioural effects of pharmaceutical pollutants have received relatively less attention, but laboratory studies show that a variety of these contaminants can change brain function and behaviour in fish and other animals. This is a major cause for concern, given that actions critical to survival, including avoiding predators, foraging for food and social interaction, can all be disrupted.

Lab-based research has provided useful insights, but experimental conditions rarely reflect the complexity of nature. Environments are dynamic and difficult to predict, and animals often behave differently than they do in controlled settings. That’s why we set out to test the effects of pharmaceutical exposure in the wild.

As part of a large field study in central Sweden, we attached implants that slowly released clobazam (a common pharmaceutical pollutant) and also miniature tracking transmitters to juvenile Atlantic salmon on their seaward migration through the Dal.

We found that clobazam increased the success of this river-to-sea migration, as more clobazam-treated salmon reached the Baltic Sea compared with untreated fish. These clobazam-exposed salmon also took less time to pass through two major hydropower dams that often delay or block salmon migration.

To better understand these changes, we followed up with a laboratory experiment which revealed that clobazam also altered how fish group and move together – what scientists call shoaling behaviour – when faced with a predator.

This suggests that the migration changes observed in the wild may stem from drug-induced shifts in social dynamics and risk-taking behaviour.

What does this mean for wildlife?

Our study is among the first to show that pharmaceutical pollution can affect not just behaviour in the lab, but outcomes for animals in their natural environment.

While an increase in migration success might initially sound like a positive effect, any disruption to natural behaviour can have ripple effects across ecosystems.

Even seemingly beneficial changes to animal behaviour, like faster passage through barriers, can come at a cost. Changes to the timing of migrations, for instance, might lead fish to arrive at the sea when conditions are not ideal, or expose them to new predators and risks. Over time, these subtle shifts could influence the dynamics of entire populations and threaten the balance of ecosystems.

Pharmaceuticals are vital for keeping people and animals healthy. But the accumulation of these drugs in rivers and lakes demands smarter approaches to keeping waterways clean.

One part of the solution is upgrading wastewater treatment plants. Some advanced methods such as ozonation, which involves bubbling ozone gas through wastewater to break down pollutants, can be effective at removing pharmaceuticals. But such advanced treatment systems are often prohibitively expensive to install and out of reach for many regions.

Another promising avenue is green chemistry: designing drugs that break down more easily in the environment or become less toxic after use. Our team has recently highlighted this as a key step toward reducing pharmaceutical pollution in the environment.

Stronger regulations and better drug disposal practices can also help to prevent medications from ending up in waterways in the first place.

There’s no single fix, but by advancing and integrating science, technology and policy, we can help to protect wildlife from the unintended effects of pharmaceutical pollution.

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Jack Brand, Researcher in Behavioural and Movement Ecology, Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences and Michael Bertram, Assistant Professor in Ecology and Ecotoxicology, Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences and Guest Researcher, Stockholm University

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

Ocean waves have long been seen as having huge potential as a source of renewable energy. Waves produce an estimated 50 trillion to 80 trillion watts of power worldwide – nearly two to three times the world’s current annual energy consumption.

Many devices have been designed to capture and convert waves’ great power into electricity, but today’s technologies face challenges in efficiency, particularly in deeper waters. As a result, wave energy hasn’t yet taken off as a renewable source in the same way as wind and solar.

One way around this problem lies in the interaction between two types of waves: those on the ocean’s surface, and those that reside underwater. My research group has just published a paper demonstrating how underwater sound waves can be used to make surface waves more powerful, potentially making them a more viable source of energy.

The same insights could also eventually be used to reduce the risks of tsunamis by making them smaller. In addition, in a second new paper we show how underwater waves can be used to improve today’s tsunami early-warning system.

The waves on the surface of the ocean are often created by a combination of wind raising up water and gravity pulling it back down – hence they’re sometimes referred to as surface-gravity waves. On the other hand, their underwater counterparts are sound waves produced by phenomena like earthquakes or volcanic eruptions, sometimes thousands of metres below the surface.

These acoustic waves travel by compressing and expanding the water, similar to how sound moves through the air. They travel across transoceanic distances at the speed of sound in the water (around 1,500 metres per second) before eventually dissipatin. Surface waves travel at much lower speeds, in the order of tens of metres per second.

In classical water wave theory, these two types of waves are considered separate entities, each living in its own world at its own rhythm. The possibility of them interacting only arose on the back of a 2013 research paper that I co-authored, which prompted my colleagues and I to research a phenomenon known as triad resonance.

This is where two acoustic waves transfer energy to a surface wave by matching its frequency, which in turn causes the surface wave to get larger and more powerful (by increasing its amplitude). This opens up the possibility of using an acoustic wave generator to generate sound waves tuned to a particular size and frequency that would enhance (or equally suppress) surface waves.

Enhanced waves would enable today’s wave turbines and oscillating water columns (which use wave power to force air through a turbine) to produce more electricity, effectively overcoming their efficiency problem.

The main requirement would be an acoustic wave generator that could be finely tuned at the required scale. Acoustic wave generators already exist for laboratory purposes, so it’s a question of scaling up an existing technology.

Our research findings show that triad resonance can increase surface wave heights by more than 30%. Of course, the generator would require energy, though the hope is that this too could be powered by waves to minimise carbon emissions. One additional challenge is to ensure that methods are developed to use the acoustic energy efficiently to ensure that the least possible energy is wasted.

Our next step is to produce some more numerical simulations and to conduct a series of small-scale laboratory experiments looking at how triad resonance works in practice. These will help refine our theories and assess their feasibility, hopefully with a view to turning this into a commercial reality.

Tsunami mitigation

I originally suggested the possibility of reducing the height of tsunami waves by manipulating underwater acoustic waves back in 2017. In the new paper, we look at this in more detail.

We found that the resonance mechanism certainly took place at an oceanic scale during the 2022 Tonga earthquake and tsunami. This shows that it’s theoretically possible to manipulate the size of a tsunami using our technique.

The challenge lies in generating and directing the acoustic waves at the required scale and configuration in real-world conditions. This would be more challenging than using acoustic waves to help harness wave energy, not least because of the scale of tsunamis, which would necessitate a much more powerful acoustic-wave generator.

Other issues to overcome would be knowing the exact properties of the tsunami in real time, and the risk that using the wrong configurations could actually make the wave bigger instead of smaller.

While it could take some time to make this feasible, acoustic waves can also potentially help to mitigate tsunamis in a different way. Our second paper demonstrates that monitoring and analysing these waves in real time could complement the existing and emerging technologies for predicting tsunamis, including ocean buoys and seismometers.

There are currently thousands of seismometers deployed around the world, but they only monitor earthquakes, whereas tsunamis can also be caused by landslides, explosions and volcanic eruptions. Even with earthquakes, large seismic readings don’t always entail large tsunamis. This can lead to false alarms, such as in Alaska in 2018.

Meanwhile ocean buoys, which measure sea levels and water pressure, are often faulty because of their operating conditions, and also relatively slow at giving warnings when tsunamis (according to my calculations) can move at speeds of up to 200m per second in the deep ocean.

A complementary system is to measure acoustic waves using an underwater microphone known as a hydrophone. These capture the acoustic waves created by all of the phenomena that cause tsunamis, and the speed at which these waves travel means that just 30 hydrophone stations could cover the entire world’s tsunami high risk areas.

This could be particularly life-saving for coastal communities near the source of a tsunami. It would also support global goals for more resilient coastal cities, such as Unesco’s aim to make all such places “tsunami ready” by 2030.

Usama Kadri, Reader of Applied Mathematics, Cardiff University

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

Australia’s 2022 federal election was seen as the climate election. But this time round, climate policy has so far taken a back seat as the major parties focus on cost-of-living issues.

Despite this, climate change remains an ever-present threat. Last year was the world’s hottest on record and extreme weather is lashing Queensland. But there are hints of progress. Australia’s emissions have begun to fall and the main power grid is now 40% renewable.

So before Australians head to the polls on May 3, it’s worth closely examining the climate policies of the two major parties. What are they offering on cutting emissions, preparing for climate-boosted disasters and future-proofing our energy systems? And where are the gaps?

Energy transition - Tony Wood, Grattan Institute

Cost-of-living pressures, escalating damage from climate change and global policy uncertainty mean no election issue is more important than transforming Australia’s economy to achieve net zero. But our energy supply must be reliable and affordable. What should the next government prioritise?

There is great pressure to deliver power bill relief. But the next government’s priority should be reducing how much a household spends on energy, rather than trying to bring down the price of electricity. Far better to give financial support for battery storage and better home insulation, to slash how much power consumers need to buy from the grid.

The Liberal-led Senate inquiry has just found supporting home electrification will also help with cost of living pressures.

The electricity rebates on offer from Labor and the temporary cut to fuel excise from the Coalition aren’t enough.

Federal and state governments must maintain their support and investment in the new transmission lines necessary to support new renewable generation and storage.

Labor needs to do more to meet its 2030 target of reaching 82% renewables in the main grid. Currently, the figure is around 40%. The Coalition’s plan to slow down renewables, keep coal going longer and burn more gas while pushing for a nuclear future carries alarmingly high risks on reliability, cost and environmental grounds.

Gas shortfalls are looming for Australia’s southeast in the next few winters and the price of gas remains stubbornly high. Labor does not yet have a workable solution to either issue, while the Coalition has an idea – more and therefore cheaper gas – but no clarity on how its plan to keep more gas for domestic use would work in practice.

So far, we have been offered superficially appealing ideas. The field is wide open for a leader to deliver a compelling vision and credible plan for Australia’s net-zero future.

Climate adaptation – Johanna Nalau, Griffith University

You would think adapting to climate change would be high on the election agenda. Southeast Queensland just weathered its first cyclone in 50 years, estimated to have caused A$1.2 billion in damage, while outback Queensland is enduring the worst flooding in 50 years.

But so far, there’s little to see on adaptation.

Both major parties have committed to building a weather radar in western Queensland, following local outcry. While welcome, it’s a knee-jerk response rather than good forward planning.

By 2060, damage from climate change will cost Australia $73 billion a year under a low emissions scenario, according to a Deloitte report. The next federal government should invest more in disaster preparation rather than throwing money at recovery. It’s cheaper, for one thing – longer term, there are significant savings by investing in more resilient infrastructure before damage occurs.

Being prepared requires having enough public servants in disaster management to do the work. The Coalition has promised to cut 41,000 jobs from the federal public service, and has not yet said where the cuts would be made.

While in office, Labor has been developing a National Adaptation Plan to shape preparations and a National Climate Risk Assessment to gather evidence of the main climate risks for Australia and ways to adapt.

Regardless of who takes power, these will be useful roadmaps to manage extreme weather, damage to agriculture and intensified droughts, floods and fires. Making sure climate-exposed groups such as farmers get necessary assistance to weather worse disasters, and manage new risks and challenges stemming from climate change, is not a partisan issue. Such plans will help direct investment towards adaptation methods that work at scale.

New National Science Priorities are helpful too, especially the focus on new technologies able to sustainably meet Australia’s food and water needs in a changing climate.

Emission reduction – Madeline Taylor, Macquarie University

Emission reduction has so far been a footnote for the major parties. In terms of the wider energy transition, both parties are expected to announce policies to encourage household battery uptake and there’s a bipartisan focus on speeding up energy planning approvals.

But there is a clear divide in where the major parties’ policies will lead Australia on its net-zero journey.

Labor’s policies largely continue its approach in government, including bringing more clean power and storage into the grid within the Capacity Investment Scheme and building new transmission lines under the Rewiring Australia Plan.

These policies are leading to lower emissions from the power sector. Last year, total emissions fell by 0.6%. Labor’s Future Made in Australia policies give incentives to produce critical minerals, green steel, and green manufacturing. Such policies should help Australia gain market share in the trade of low-carbon products.

From January 1 this year, Labor’s new laws require some large companies to disclose emissions from operations. This is positive, giving investors essential data to make decisions. From their second reporting period, companies will have to disclose Scope 3 emissions as well – those from their supply chains. The laws will cover some companies where measuring emissions upstream is incredibly tricky, including agriculture. Coalition senators issued a dissenting report pointing this out. The Coalition has now vowed to scrap these rules.

The Coalition has not committed to Labor’s target of cutting emissions 43% by 2030. Their flagship plan to go nuclear will likely mean pushing out emissions reduction goals given the likely 2040s completion timeframe for large-scale nuclear generation, unless small modular reactors become viable.

On gas, there’s virtually bipartisan support. The Coalition promise to reserve more gas for domestic use is a response to looming shortfalls on the east coast. Labor has also approved more coal and gas projects largely for export, though Australian coal and gas burned overseas aren’t counted domestically.

Opposition Leader Peter Dutton has promised to include gas in Labor’s renewable-oriented Capacity Investment Scheme and has floated relaxing the Safeguard Mechanism on heavy emitters. The Coalition has vowed to cancel plans for three offshore wind projects and are very critical of green hydrogen funding.

Both parties will likely introduce emission reduction measures, but a Coalition government would be less stringent. Scrapping corporate emissions reporting entirely would be a misstep, because accurate measurement of emissions are essential for attracting green investment and reducing climate risks.

Johanna Nalau, Senior Lecturer, Climate Adaptation, Griffith University; Madeline Taylor, Associate Professor of Energy Law, Macquarie University, and Tony Wood, Program Director, Energy, Grattan Institute

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

Australia is a place of great natural beauty, home to many species found nowhere else on Earth. But it’s also particularly vulnerable to introduced animals, diseases and weeds. Habitat destruction, pollution and climate change make matters worse. To conserve what’s special, we need far greater care.

Unfortunately, successive federal governments have failed to protect nature. Australia now has more than 2,000 threatened species and “ecological communities” – groups of native species that live together and interact. This threatened list is growing at an alarming rate.

The Albanese government came to power in 2022 promising to reform the nation’s nature laws, following a scathing review of the laws. But it has failed to do so.

If re-elected, Labor has vowed to complete its reforms and introduce a federal Environment Protection Agency, in some other form.

The Coalition has not made such a commitment. Instead, it refers to “genuine conservation”, balancing the environment and the economy. They’ve also promised to cut “green tape” for industry.

But scientific evidence suggests much more is required to protect Australia’s natural wonders.

Fighting invaders

Labor has made a welcome commitment of more than A$100 million to counter “highly pathogenic avian influenza”. This virulent strain of bird flu is likely to kill millions of native birds and other wildlife.

The government also provided much-needed funding for a network of safe havens for threatened mammals. These safe-havens exclude cats, foxes and other invasive species.

But much more needs to be done. Funding is urgently needed to eradicate red imported fire ants, before eradication becomes impossible. Other election commitments to look for include:

• increased biosecurity funding, to prevent new incursions
• long-term investment in eradicating major pests and weeds from key sites
• support for research into new tools to control invasive species such as feral cats, for which no broad-scale solution is currently possible
• no reversal or weakening of policies aimed at curbing invasive pests such as feral horses in national parks
• new laws to ensure threat abatement plans must be implemented
• adequate funds to manage invasive species across the expanded protected areas system to meet the key global commitment to nature conservation
• national coordination and leadership to stop the indiscriminate use of poisons that can spread through ecosystems and food-chains, killing non-target animals such as owls, quolls, Tasmanian devils, reptiles and frogs.

Stopping land clearing and habitat destruction

The states are largely responsible for controlling land clearing. But when land clearing affects “matters of national environmental significance” such as a nationally listed threatened species or ecological community, it becomes a federal matter.

Such proposals are supposed to be referred to the federal environment minister for assessment under the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation (EPBC) Act.

But most habitat destruction is never referred. And if it is, it’s mostly deemed “not a controlled action”. That means no further consideration is required and the development can proceed.

Only about 1.5% of the hundreds of thousands of hectares of land cleared in Australia every year is fully assessed under the EPBC Act.

This means our threatened species and ecological communities are suffering a “death by a thousand cuts”.

How do we fix this? A starting point is to introduce “national environmental standards” of the kind envisaged in the 2020 review of the EPBC Act by Professor Graeme Samuel.

A strong Environment Protection Agency could ensure impacts on biodiversity are appropriately assessed and accounted for.

Protecting threatened species

For Australia to turn around its extinction crisis, prospective elected representatives and governments must firmly commit to the following actions.

Stronger environmental law and enforcement is essential for tackling biodiveristy decline and extinction. This should include what’s known as a “climate trigger”, which means any proposal likely to produce a significant amount of greenhouse gases would have to be assessed under the EPBC Act.

This is necessary because climate change is among the greatest threats to biodiversity. But the federal environment minister is currently not legally bound to consider – or authorised to refuse – project proposals based on their greenhouse gas emissions. In an attempt to pass the EPBC reforms in the Senate last year, the Greens agreed to postpone their demand for a climate trigger.

Key threats to species, including habitat destruction, invasive species, climate change, and pollution, must be prevented or reduced. Aligning government policies and priorities to ensure environmental goals aren’t undermined by economic and development interests is essential.

A large increase in environmental spending – to at least 1% of the federal budget – is vital. It would ensure sufficient support for conservation progress and meeting legal requirements of the EPBC Act, including listing threatened species and designing and implementing recovery plans when required.

Show nature the money!

Neither major party has committed to substantial increases in environmental spending in line with what experts suggest is urgently needed.

Without such increased investment Australia’s conservation record will almost certainly continue to deteriorate. The loss of nature hurts us all. For example, most invasive species not only affect biodiversity; they have major economic costs to productivity.

Whoever forms Australia’s next government, we urge elected leaders to act on the wishes of 96% of surveyed Australians calling for more action to conserve nature. 

Euan Ritchie, Professor in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University; John Woinarski, Professor of Conservation Biology, Charles Darwin University, and Martine Maron, Professor of Environmental Management, The University of Queensland

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

Street trees usually grow in appalling soils, have little space for their roots, are rarely watered and often get aggressively trimmed by road authorities or utility companies.

If they do get established, many street trees suffer damage from vehicles, have to live in wind tunnels or are forced to grow in the permanent shade of large buildings.

But despite everything we throw at them, many street trees don’t just survive, they thrive. So let’s meet one of these heroic species: the yellow gum, (Eucalyptus leucoxylon).

Pretty but tough

Yellow gum is widely planted across southeastern and eastern Australia as a street tree. In some suburbs and towns, it is so common that people think it is a native tree (in fact it is from South Australia, Victoria or southwest New South Wales).

It is not to be confused with yellow box (Eucalyptus melliodora), a different eucalypt altogether.

Yellow gum has been widely planted because it meets many of the demands we place on urban trees.

It grows well in different soils and climates, and has very attractive red, white or pink flowers.

It’s called yellow gum in Victoria and parts of NSW, but is often known as blue gum in SA.

The common names can be confusing, but yellow gum refers to its pale yellow wood and bark patches, while blue gum refers to its leaves.

Many specimens develop dense, low, spreading canopies, which offer lovely shade and help cool our cities down.

And importantly, it doesn’t grow too big. It is typically a medium to small woodland tree, usually between 13 and 16 metres high (but it can grow higher in the wild).

Different bird and insect species feed on the trees some feeding on flowers and fruits and others on the foliage.

Natural populations of yellow gum occur in coastal and inland SA, in the southwest corner of NSW and in the western half of Victoria from the Murray River to the coast.

There are several subspecies, too, and debate rages in botanical and horticultural circles about whether some of them deserve to be recognised as their own species.

Yellow gum is also tolerant of wind and salt spray, and can withstand waterlogged soils. They stood up to the millennium drought conditions well.

Many arborists think the yellow gum has the potential to do well in many parts of Australia as the climate changes. Research has shown, for example, that some individual yellow gum trees regulate their water use better (when compared to other individuals in the species, and when compared to other eucalypts).

Like many eucalypts, yellow gum possesses lots of dormant buds and a lignotuber (a swelling at the base of the trunk containing dormant buds and carbohydrate). This means it copes well with pruning and will respond especially well to targeted formative pruning when young.

This can help reduce the risk of problems such as what’s known as “co-dominant stems” (when two main stems grow from a single point of origin, instead of one tall, straight trunk) and rubbing or crossing branches.

Not everyone’s favourite

Not everybody likes the yellow gum, and for some good reasons.

Some yellow gums are multi-stemmed, while others have twisted and curving trunks; some have both. These are not the characteristics many local governments want in street trees; many want to see straight trunks and dense canopies.

These problems can be so annoying that some council arborists no longer recommend planting yellow gums.

But these issues are due to poor tree selection and propagation. In the past, yellow gum seed was not carefully sourced from the best trees with the most suitable characteristics, and so inferior specimens have prospered.

With the right investment of time and money into tree selection, these problems can be overcome.

Ticking most of the boxes

All in all, yellow gum can be a very fine and useful urban tree.

The species grows well and if superior stock is used, the trees develop with straight and attractive trunks and wide, dense canopies.

They are typically medium-sized trees, do well in tough street conditions or in smaller domestic front and back yards.

They tick most, if not all, of the boxes for a good urban street tree.

Gregory Moore, Senior Research Associate, School of Agriculture, Food and Ecosystem Sciences, The University of Melbourne

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

The greater bilby (Macrotis lagotis) is one of Australia’s most iconic yet at-risk animals — and the last surviving bilby species. Once found across 70% of Australia, its range has contracted by more than 80% since European colonisation.

Today, these nocturnal marsupials, still culturally significant to many Indigenous peoples, are restricted to remote deserts. They face an ongoing threat of extinction.

Local elders, Indigenous rangers and scientists hold valuable knowledge about bilby populations, the threats they face, and strategies needed to sustain them into the future.

Our new study, published today in Conservation Science and Practice, reveals how collaboration between scientists and Indigenous land managers can help yield new and vital information.

In the field, we used two methods – one based on Warlpiri knowledge and one based on standard scientific protocols – to locate bilbies and collect scat (poo) samples in the North Tanami Indigenous Protected Area in the Northern Territory.

By drawing on Warlpiri tracking expertise and Western scientific methods, we uncovered crucial information on bilby populations that could help conserve these rare creatures.

Understanding bilby numbers is important – but hard

Bilbies turn over tonnes of soil each year, helping to improve soil health, help seeds germinate and enhance water infiltration. Their deep, complex burrows also provide shelter for other species.

They’re crucial to the health of desert ecosystems; protecting bilbies means protecting the web of life they support.

To do this, we need to know more about:

• how many bilbies there are
• how they respond to land management techniques such as planned burning
• how they respond to threats such as feral predators.

Yet, bilbies are notoriously difficult to monitor directly via live capture. They’re nocturnal, shy and solitary. And they inhabit vast landscapes, making it very hard to estimate population numbers.

Luckily, the tracks, diggings and scats bilbies leave behind provide ample clues. DNA from scat (if it can be found) can be used to estimate how many bilbies are present in a particular area.

Systematic ecological surveys, often used to monitor wildlife, can be rigid and expensive, especially in remote regions.

We need flexible methods that align with local knowledge and the practical realities of monitoring bilbies on Country.

A new approach to monitor and manage bilbies

We tested two methods of locating bilby scat for DNA analysis.

The first was systematic sampling. This is a standard scientific approach where fixed lengths of land were walked multiple times to collect scat.

This ensures sampling effort is even over the search area and comparable across sites. However, like most species, bilby distribution is patchy, and this approach can lead to researchers missing important signs.

The second method was targeted sampling, guided by Warlpiri knowledge, to search in areas most likely to yield results.

This allowed the search team to focus on areas where bilbies were active or predicted to be active based on knowledge of their habits and food sources.

Altogether, we collected more than 1,000 scat samples. In the lab, we extracted DNA from these samples to identify individual bilbies. These data, combined with the location of samples, allowed us to estimate the size of the bilby population.

We then compared estimates that would have been derived if we had only done systematic or targeted sampling, or both, to assess their strengths and limitations for monitoring bilby populations.

What we found

We identified 20 bilbies from the scats collected during systematic surveys and 26 – six more – from targeted surveys. At least 16 individual bilbies were detected by both methods. In total, we confirmed 32 unique bilbies in the study area.

When it came to population estimates – which consider how many repeat captures occur and where – combining data from both types of surveys produced the most accurate estimates with the least effort.

Targeted sampling tended to overestimate population size because it focused on areas of high activity. Systematic sampling was more precise but required greater effort.

Combining both approaches provided the most reliable estimates while saving time.

What this means for conservation

Our research highlights how collaboration that includes different ways of knowing can improve conservation.

By adapting standard on-ground survey techniques to include Warlpiri methods for tracking bilbies, we produced better data and supported local capacity for bilby monitoring.

Elders also had opportunities to share tracking skills with younger people, helping keep cultural knowledge alive.

Conservation programs often rely on standardised ecological monitoring protocols – in other words, doing things much the same way no matter where you’re working.

While these protocols provide consistency, they are rigid and don’t always yield the best results. They also fail to incorporate local knowledge crucial for managing species like the bilby.

Our approach shows how integrating diverse ways of working can deliver more inclusive and effective outcomes, without compromising data reliability.

A path forward

Bilbies face ongoing threats including:

• introduced predators (particularly foxes)
• habitat degradation and
• inappropriate fire regimes.

Their future depends on collaborative efforts that draw on scientific and Indigenous and local knowledges.

This study provides an example of how such partnerships can work – not just for bilbies, but for other species and ecosystems.

As Australia confronts biodiversity loss, this research underscores the importance of listening to those who know Country best.

By valuing and respecting local expertise, we can build a stronger future for bilbies and the landscapes that are their home.

Hayley Geyle, Ecologist, Charles Darwin University; Cathy Robinson, Principal Research Scientist, CSIRO; Christine Schlesinger, Associate Professor in Environmental Science, Charles Darwin University, and Helen Wilson, Lead Ranger, North Tanami Rangers, Indigenous Knowledge

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

As I sprinted across the flower-rich meadow on the eastern coast of Cyprus, I could barely see my car. The air was full of tiny black dots, pelting like bullets past me. I hauled open the car door and breathed a sigh of relief once inside. I was surrounded by millions of flies, amid the most incredible migration event I have ever seen.

The migration cameras my team and I use to monitor these insects counted nearly 6,000 flies per metre per minute. Being hit by a fly travelling over 25mph (helped by the wind) hurts enough to make you want shelter quickly.

All of these flies had just travelled at least 60 miles (100km) across open sea from the Middle East to Cyprus. This journey forms part of their springtime migration towards northern Europe.

Butterflies and dragonflies are well-known insect migrants, but not because they’re the most numerous. That title is given to the flies. I have studied all of the insects migrating through Cyprus and the Pyrenees on the France-Spain border. Flies make up nearly 90% of all migrants. Yet they have been consistently overlooked by scientists and their ecological contribution has been hugely underappreciated.

My colleagues and I set out to change this. We have spent months collecting written sources that mentioned fly migration from anywhere in the world. Our findings, now published in Biological Reviews, could change our perception of flies forever. Previously, nobody really knew the extent to which flies migrated, yet they are the most numerous and most ecologically important of all terrestrial migrants.

Fly migration has been part of written human history for millennia. In the book of Exodus, when the pharoah of Egypt didn’t let Moses’s people go, God sent a plague of flies to change his mind. Then God removed flies from the land until “not a fly remained”. This last biblical quote is key.

If these flies had been misidentified mayflies coming out of the river Nile, which are known to amass in huge numbers, their exhausted bodies would have remained for days. Because they all disappeared without a trace, this suggests a huge migration of flies. Egypt is on an important fly migration route. So perhaps fly migration was significant enough to be the subject of divine intervention.

Flies migrate to reproduce, moving to exploit seasonal food resources. All over the world, it’s mostly females that migrate. They have been recorded migrating through mountain passes high in the Himalayas, on ships hundreds of miles out to sea in the Gulf of Mexico and in their millions migrating through western Europe. Amazingly, while on fieldwork in the Maldives, I saw Forcipomyia midges use their soft foot hairs to stick to dragonfly wings to hitch a lift over the Indian Ocean.

Vital roles

Flies are so important to the planet and to us. No other group of terrestrial migrants (including vertebrates such as mammals) are as ecologically diverse as flies. More than half (62%) of all migrating flies, including hoverflies, are pollinators. Without them, food crop production would decline.

As they migrate, flies transport and disperse pollen between flowers. This could help plants adapt to climate change by maintaining genetic diversity.

Many migratory fly species (34%) are decomposers, ensuring the planet isn’t covered in rotting carcasses and animal dung. One study showed that the larvae of just 50 houseflies (Musca domestica), – the very ecologically similar and equally abundant autumn housefly Musca autumnalis migrate south through the Pyrenees in their millions – can decompose up to 444kg of pig manure.

The ecological roles of flies are not all positive, though. My latest study shows that monoculture crops provide lots of food for some migratory fly species (18%) that have subsequently become crop pests. Some (16%) carry diseases, such as mosquitoes that migrate huge distances and bring diseases such as malaria.

But migratory flies have an overwhelmingly positive impact on the planet. Hoverfly larvae eat trillions of aphids each year in southern England. Insect migration is already known to be the most important way that the nutrients plants need to grow are moved across the land and flies make up the majority of the insects that transport the nutrients.

The movement and subsequent death of trillions of migrating flies, whose bodies contain elements, such as phosphorous and nitrogen which plants need to grow, could be vital to soil health of the soils too. Migratory birds have been noted feeding on and moving at the same time as migratory flies, perhaps using them as fuel for their journeys.

We’re only just waking up to the significance of flies. Hopefully, it’s not too late to protect them. One German study found that the number of aphid-eating migratory hoverflies declined by 97% over the last 50 years. Fewer aphid-eating hoverflies means more crop-eating aphids and also fewer pollinators. So that’s a terrifying statistic that could have drastic consequences.

A sunrise of hope exists, however. These brilliant migratory flies have so many young that if we improve landscape connectivity, reduce pesticide usage and provide suitable habitat, they can bounce back really quickly. We need these flies as much as we need the air we breathe. So next time you see a fly up against your window, open it and let it out. It has a long way to go and such important work to do.

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Will Hawkes, Insect Migration Researcher, College of Life and Environmental Science, University of Exeter

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

There are roughly a trillion species of microorganisms on Earth – the vast majority of which are bacteria.

Bacteria consist of a single cell. They do not have bones and are not like big animals that leave clear signs in the geological record, which thankful palaeontologists can study many millions of years later.

This has made it very hard for scientists to establish a timeline of their early evolution. But with the help of machine learning, we have been able to fill in many of the details. Our new research, published today in Science, also reveals some bacteria developed the ability to use oxygen long before Earth became saturated with it roughly 2.4 billion years ago.

A monumental event in Earth’s history

About 4.5 billion years ago, the Moon formed. Violently. A Mars-size object collided with Earth, turning its surface into molten rock. If life existed before this cataclysm, it was probably destroyed.

After that, the current ancestors of all living beings appeared: single-celled microbes. For the first 80% of life’s history, Earth was inhabited solely by these microbes.

Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution, as evolutionary biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky famously said in 1973. But how did the evolution of life proceed through the early history of Earth?

Comparing DNA sequences from the wonderful diversity of life we see today can tell us how different groups relate to each other. For instance, we humans are more closely related to mushrooms than we are to apple trees. Likewise, such comparisons can tell us how different groups of bacteria are related to each other.

But comparison of DNA sequences can only take us so far. DNA comparisons do not say when in Earth’s history evolutionary events took place. At one point in time, an organism reproduced two offspring. One of them gave rise to mushrooms, the other to humans (and lots of other species too). But when exactly did that organism live? How many years ago?

One thing geology teaches us about is the existence of another monumental event in the history of Earth, 2.4 billion years ago. At that time, the atmosphere of the Earth changed dramatically. A group of bacteria called the cyanobacteria invented a trick that would alter the story of life forever: photosynthesis.

Harvesting energy from the sun powered their cells. But it also generated an inconvenient waste product, oxygen gas.

Over the course of millions of years, oxygen in the atmosphere slowly accumulated. Before this “Great Oxidation Event”, Earth contained almost no oxygen, so life was not ready for it. In fact, to uninitiated bacteria, oxygen is a poisonous gas, and so its release into the atmosphere probably caused a mass extinction. The surviving bacteria either evolved to use oxygen, or retreated into the recesses of the planet where it doesn’t penetrate.

The bacterial tree of life

The Great Oxidation Event is especially interesting for us not only because of its impact in the history of life, but also because it can be given a clear date. We know it happened around 2.4 billion years ago – and we also know most bacteria that adapted to oxygen had to live after this event. We used this information to layer on dates to the bacterial tree of life.

We started by training an artificial intelligence (AI) model to predict whether a bacteria lives with oxygen or not from the genes it has. Many bacteria we see today use oxygen, such as cyanobacteria and others that live in the ocean. But many do not, such as the bacteria that live in our gut.

As far as machine learning tasks go, this one was quite straightforward. The chemical power of oxygen markedly changes a bacteria’s genome because a cell’s metabolism becomes organised around oxygen use, and so there are many clues in the data.

We then applied our machine learning models to predict which bacteria used oxygen in the past. This was possible because modern techniques allow us to estimate not only how the species we see today are related, but also which genes each ancestor carried in its genome.

A surprising twist

By using the planet-wide geological event of the Great Oxidation Event effectively as a “fossil” calibration point, our approach produced a detailed timeline of bacterial evolution.

Combining results from geology, paleontology, phylogenetics and machine learning, we were able to refine the timing of bacterial evolution significantly.

Our results also revealed a surprising twist: some bacterial lineages capable of using oxygen existed roughly 900 million years before the Great Oxidation Event. This suggests these bacteria evolved the ability to use oxygen even when atmospheric oxygen was scarce.

Remarkably, our findings indicated that cyanobacteria actually evolved the ability to use oxygen before they developed photosynthesis.

This framework not only reshapes our understanding of bacterial evolutionary history but also illustrates how life’s capabilities evolved in response to Earth’s changing environments.

Ben Woodcroft, Associate Professor of Microbial Informatics, Queensland University of Technology and Adrián A. Davín, Postdoctoral Fellow, Department of Biology, Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich

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

Opposition Leader Peter Dutton would withdraw Australia’s bid to co-host next year’s global climate summit if the Coalition wins the federal election.

Australia has lobbied hard for the right to host the talks, known as COP31, in conjunction with Pacific nations. Australia has emerged as a leading contender, and has the backing of most countries in its United Nations grouping, including the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Canada and New Zealand.

However, Dutton on Sunday described the idea of hosting the UN climate conference as “not something we are supporting — it is madness”. He also falsely claimed it would cost Australia “tens of billions” of dollars to host the event.

Australia would reap big benefits by hosting the high-profile global talks. It would likely attract considerable investment in renewables and clean energy export industries, and strengthen Australia’s national security during a time of increasing geo-strategic competition in the Pacific. To pull out now would be a costly move.

Decison deferred until June

The decision on who will host COP31 in 2026 was expected at last year’s summit in Azerbaijan. But it was deferred until June this year – after Australia’s next federal election.

Hosting rights are shared between five UN country groupings on a rotational basis. The final decision is made by consensus.

Australia’s bid to host with Pacific nations has considerable support. But Turkey, the only other country in the running to host COP31, has so far resisted lobbying efforts to persuade it to drop out.

An economic boost for Australia

Hosting the UN climate talks is a massive economic opportunity for Australia.

COP31 would be one of the biggest diplomatic summits Australia has ever hosted. Tens of thousands of people could be expected for a fortnight of negotiations, with satellite events held across the nation and the Pacific.

Adelaide is in the box seat to play host. The South Australian government estimated hosting the UN talks could generate more than A$500 million for the state. But economic benefits would be much wider, and longer-lasting, than tourism receipts from those attending. The talks are a chance to attract investment for Australia’s energy transition and for clean energy industries of the future, including critical minerals and green iron.

The UK government’s assessment of the value of hosting the UN climate summit in Glasgow in 2021 found the net economic benefit was double that spent – around A$1 billion. That includes benefits from trade deals and foreign investment. With abundant critical minerals, and excellent wind and solar resources, Australia has even more to gain.

Hosting the world’s largest climate summit is a chance to attract the investment needed to replace ageing and unreliable coal-fired power stations. According to the Clean Energy Investor Group, which represents the capital behind large-scale renewables, more than 70% of the investment in clean energy comes from international sources.

Dutton says he plans to replace coal with nuclear power (and to rely on gas until nuclear plants are built decades from now). The Coalition’s nuclear plan would require hundreds of billions of dollars of taxpayer support.

Securing our place in the Pacific

Working with Pacific nations to address climate change is key to Australian national security.

Australia aims to be the security partner of choice for Pacific island countries. And Pacific island countries are crystal clear: climate change is their “single greatest threat”.

In 2022, Solomon Islands signed a security deal with China, which raised the prospect of a potential Chinese naval base in Australia’s maritime approaches. Foreign Minister Penny Wong – who was in opposition at the time – described it as the worst foreign policy blunder in the Pacific since the end of WWII.

The Albanese government has looked to cement Australia’s place in the Pacific by working with island nations to address climate change. In July 2022, Albanese joined Pacific leaders to declare a Pacific climate emergency and launched bid to co-host a UN climate summit with Pacific nations. In 2023, Australia signed a climate migration deal with Tuvalu that also prevents Tuvalu from pursuing a security deal with China.

Pacific leaders have welcomed Australia’s plans to host the UN climate talks and have agreed to work together to advocate for the joint bid. Walking away now could do real damage to Australian strategy in the region.

Embracing our clean energy future

Hosting COP31 is a chance to set up Australia’s economy of tomorrow, signalling the shift from fossil fuel heavyweight to clean energy superpower.

Australia is leading the clean energy transition. This is a story to tell the world. One in three households have rooftop solar. Already 40% of the main national power grid is powered by wind, solar and storage. We are on track for 80% renewables by 2030.

South Australia is moving even faster, set for 100% clean electricity by 2027. Hosting COP31 in the state is also a chance to showcase clean energy export industries, especially plans to produce green iron and green steel at the Whyalla steelworks.

Australia is the world’s largest exporter of raw iron ore, but is well positioned to export more-valuable, and lower-polluting, green iron to major economies in our region. The potential export value of green iron is estimated to be $295 billion a year, or three times the current value of iron ore exports.

More broadly, our clean energy exports – including green metals, green fertilisers and green fuels – could be worth six to eight times more than our fossil fuel exports.

Walking away from the chance to host the world and showcase our clean energy future would be costly indeed.

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

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

When Brisbane was awarded the 2032 Olympic and Paralympic Games, it came with a widely publicised landmark promise: the world’s first “climate-positive” games.

The International Olympic Committee had already announced all games would be climate-positive from 2030. It said this meant the games would be required to “go beyond” the previous obligation of reducing carbon emissions directly related to their operations and offsetting or otherwise “compensating” for the rest.

In other words, achieving net-zero was no longer sufficient. Now each organising committee would be legally required to remove more carbon from the atmosphere than the games emit. This is in keeping with the most widely cited definition of climate-positive.

Both Paris 2024 and Los Angeles 2028 made voluntary pledges. But Brisbane 2032 was the first contractually required to be climate-positive. This was enshrined in the original 2021 Olympic Host Contract, an agreement between the IOC, the State of Queensland, Brisbane City Council and the Australian Olympic Committee.

But the host contract has quietly changed since. All references to “climate-positive” have been replaced with weaker terminology. The move was not publicly announced. This fits a broader pattern of Olympic Games promising big on sustainability before weakening or abandoning commitments over time.

A quiet retreat from climate positive

Research by my team has shown the climate-positive announcement sparked great hope for the future of Brisbane as a regenerative city. We saw Brisbane 2032 as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to radically shift away from the ongoing systemic issues underlying urban development.

This vision to embrace genuinely sustainable city design centred on fostering circular economies and net positive development. It would have aligned urban development with ecological stewardship. Beyond just mitigating environmental harm, the games could have set a new standard for sustainability by becoming a catalyst to actively regenerate the natural environment.

Yet, on December 7 2023, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) initiated an addendum to the host contract. It effectively downgraded the games’ sustainability obligations.

It was signed by Brisbane City Council, the State of Queensland, the Australian Olympic Committee and the IOC between April and May 2024.

Asked about these amendments, the IOC replied it “took the decision to no longer use the term ‘climate-positive’ when referring to its climate commitments”.

But the IOC maintains that: “The requirements underpinning this term, however, and our ambition to address the climate crisis, have not changed”.

It said the terminology was changed to ensure that communications “are transparent and easily understood; that they focus on the actions implemented to reduce carbon emissions; and that they are aligned with best practice and current regulations, as well as the principle of continual improvement”.

Similarly, a Brisbane 2032 spokesperson told The Conversation the language was changed:

to ensure we are communicating in a transparent and easily understood manner, following advice from the International Olympic Committee and recommendations of the United Nations and European Union Green Claims Directive, made in 2023.

Brisbane 2032 will continue to plan, as we always have, to deliver a Games that focus on specific measures to deliver a more sustainable Games.

But the new wording commits Brisbane 2032 to merely “aiming at removing more carbon from the atmosphere than what the Games project emits”.

Crucially, this is no longer binding. The new language makes carbon removal an optional goal rather than a contractual requirement.

Aiming high, yet falling short

Olympic Games have adopted increasingly ambitious sustainability rhetoric. Yet, action in the real world typically falls short.

In our ongoing research with the Politecnico di Torino, Italy, we analysed sustainability commitments since the 2006 Winter Olympics in Turin. We found they often change over time. Initial promises are either watered down or abandoned altogether due to political, financial, and logistical pressures.

Construction activities for the Winter Olympic Games 2014 in Sochi, Russia, irreversibly damaged the Western Caucasus – a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Rio 2016 failed to clean up Guanabara Bay, despite its original pledge to reduce pollutants by 80%. Rio also caused large-scale deforestation and wetland destruction. Ancient forests were cleared for PyeongChang 2018 ski slopes.

Our research found a persistent gap between sustainability rhetoric and reality. Brisbane 2032 fits this pattern as the original promise of hosting climate-positive games is at risk of reverting to business as usual.

Victoria Park controversy

In 2021, a KPMG report for the Queensland government analysed the potential economic, social and environmental benefits of the Brisbane 2032 games.

It said the government was proposing to deliver the climate-positive commitment required to host the 2032 games through a range of initiatives. This included “repurposing and upgrading existing infrastructure with enhanced green star credentials”.

But plans for the Olympic stadium have changed a great deal since then. Plans to upgrade the Brisbane Cricket Ground, commonly known as the Gabba, have been replaced by a new stadium to be built in Victoria Park.

Victoria Park is Brisbane’s largest remaining inner-city green space. It is known to Indigenous peoples as Barrambin (the windy place). It is listed on the Queensland Heritage Register due to its great cultural significance.

Page 90 of the Olympic Host Contract prohibits permanent construction “in statutory nature areas, cultural protected areas and World Heritage sites”.

Local community groups and environmental advocates have vowed to fight plans for a Victoria Park stadium. This may include a legal challenge.

What next?

The climate-positive commitment has been downgraded to an unenforceable aspiration. A new Olympic stadium has been announced in direct violation of the host contract. Will Brisbane 2032 still leave a green legacy?

Greater transparency and public accountability are needed. Otherwise, the original plan may fall short of the positive legacy it aspired to, before the Olympics even begin.

Marcus Foth, Professor of Urban Informatics, Queensland University of Technology

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

The future of Australia’s key climate policy is uncertain after Opposition Leader Peter Dutton said a Coalition government would review the measure, known as the “safeguard mechanism”, which is designed to limit emissions from Australia’s largest industrial polluters.

According to the Australian Financial Review, if the Coalition wins office it will consider relaxing the policy, as part of its plan to increase domestic gas supplies.

Evidence suggests weakening the mechanism would be a mistake. In fact, it could be argued the policy does not go far enough to force polluting companies to curb their emissions.

Both major parties now accept Australia must reach net-zero emissions by 2050. This bipartisan agreement should make one thing clear: winding back the safeguard mechanism would be reckless policy.

What’s the safeguard mechanism again?

The safeguard mechanism began under the Coalition government in 2016. It now applies to 219 large polluting facilities that emit more than 100,000 tonnes of greenhouse gases a year. These facilities are in sectors such as electricity, mining, gas, manufacturing, waste and transport. Together, they produce just under one-third of Australia’s emissions.

Under the policy’s original design, companies were purportedly required to keep their emissions below a certain cap, and buy carbon credits to offset any emissions over the cap. However, loopholes meant the cap was weakly enforced.

This meant greenhouse gas pollution from the facilities actually increased – rising from 131.3 million tonnes to 138.7 million tonnes in the first six years of the policy.

Labor strengthened the safeguard mechanism after it won office, by setting a hard cap for industrial emissions. The Coalition voted against the reforms.

Dutton has since labelled the safeguard mechanism a “carbon tax” – a claim that has been debunked. Some members of the Coalition reportedly believe the policy makes manufacturers globally uncompetitive.

Now, according to media reports, a Coalition government would review the safeguard mechanism with a view to weakening it, in a bid to bolster business and increase gas supply.

Why the safeguard mechanism should be left alone

Weakening the safeguard mechanism would lead to several problems.

First, it would mean large facilities, including new coal and gas projects, would be permitted to operate without meaningful limits on their pollution. This threatens Australia’s international climate obligations.

Second, if polluters were no longer required to buy carbon offsets, this would disrupt Australia’s carbon market.

As the Clean Energy Regulator notes, the safeguard mechanism is the “dominant source” of demand for Australian carbon credits.

In the first quarter of 2024, about 1.2 million carbon-credit units were purchased by parties wanting to offset their emissions. The vast majority were purchased by companies meeting compliance obligations under the safeguard mechanism or similar state rules.

If companies are no longer required to buy offsets, or they buy fewer offsets, this would hurt those who sell carbon credits.

Carbon credits are earned by organisations and individuals who abate carbon – through measures such as tree planting or retaining vegetation. The activities are often carried out by farmers and other landholders, including Indigenous organisations. Indigenous-led carbon projects have delivered jobs, cultural renewal and environmental benefits.

The safeguard mechanism, together with the government pledge to reach net-zero emissions by 2050, also provides certainty for the operators of polluting facilities. Many in the business sector have called for the policy to remain unchanged.

And finally, winding back the safeguard mechanism would send a troubling signal to the world: that Australia is stepping back from climate action.

Now is not the time to abdicate our responsibilities on climate change. Atmospheric carbon dioxide levels have risen dramatically since 1960. This increase is driving global warming and climate change, leading to extreme weather events which will only worsen.

A hard-won policy

The safeguard mechanism has not had time to deliver meaningful outcomes. And it is far from perfect – but it is hard-won, and Australia needs it.

The 2023 reforms to the mechanism were designed to support trade-exposed industries, while encouraging companies to invest in emissions reduction.

Undoing this mechanism would risk our climate goals. It would leave the government limited means to curb pollution from Australia’s largest emitters, and muddy the roadmap to net-zero. It would also create uncertainty for all carbon market participants, including the polluting facilities themselves.

Felicity Deane, Professor of Trade Law, Taxation and Climate Change, Queensland University of Technology

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

The small Queensland town of Eromanga bills itself as Australia’s town furthest from the sea. But this week, an ocean of freshwater arrived.

Monsoon-like weather has hit the normally arid Channel Country of inland Queensland. Some towns have had two years’ worth of rain in a couple of days. These flat grazing lands now resemble an inland sea.

One New South Wales man is still missing and dozens of people have been evacuated. Others are preparing to be cut off, potentially for weeks. And graziers are reporting major livestock losses – more than 100,000 and climbing. In some areas, the flooding is worse than 1974, the wettest year on record in Australia.

Why so much rain? Tropical, water-laden air has been brought far inland from the oceans to the north and east. This can happen under normal climate variability. But our ocean temperatures are the highest on record, which supercharges the water cycle.

In coming weeks, this huge volume of water will wend its way through the channels perhaps 600 km to fill Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre, the ephemeral lake which appears in the northern reaches of South Australia. It’s likely this will be a Lake Eyre for the ages.

In the first three months of the year, deadly record-breaking floods hit northern Queensland before Cyclone Alfred tracked unusually far south and made landfall in southeast Queensland, bringing widespread winds and rains and leaving expensive repair bills. Now the rain has come inland.

Why so much rain in arid areas?

Some meteorologists have dubbed this event a pseudo-monsoon. That’s because the normal Australian monsoon doesn’t reach this far south – the torrential rains of the monsoonal wet season tend to fall closer to the northern coasts.

Because the Arafura and Timor Seas to the north are unusually warm, evaporation rates have shot up. Once in the air, this water vapour makes for very humid conditions. These air masses are even more humid than normal tropical air, because they have flowed down from the equator. Many Queenslanders can vouch for the intense humidity.

But there’s a second factor at work. At present, Australia’s climate is influenced by a positive Southern Annular Mode. This means the belt of intense westerly winds blowing across the Southern Ocean has been pushed further south, causing a ripple effect which can lead to more summer rain in Australia’s southeast, up to inland Queensland. This natural climate driver has meant easterly winds have blown uninterrupted from as far away as Fiji, carrying yet more humid air inland.

These two streams of converging humid tropical air were driven up into the cooler heights of the atmosphere by upper and surface low pressure troughs, triggering torrential rain over wide areas of the outback

While these humid air masses have now dumped most of their water, more rain is coming in the aftermath of the short-lived Cyclone Dianne off northwest Australia. These rains won’t be as intense but may drive more flood peaks over already saturated catchments.

This is why it has been so wet in what is normally an exceptionally dry part of Australia.

What is this doing to the Channel Country?

Many Australians have never been to the remote Channel Country. It’s a striking landscape, marked by ancient, braided river channels.

Even for an area known for drought-flood cycles, the rainfall totals are extreme. This is a very rare event.

People who live there have to be resilient and self-sufficient. But farmers and graziers are bracing for awful losses of livestock. Livestock can drown in floodwaters, but a common fate is succumbing to pneumonia after spending too long in water. After the water moves down the channels, it will leave behind notoriously boggy and sticky mud. This can be lethal to livestock and native animals, which can find themselves unable to move.

Where will the water go next?

Little of these temporary inland seas will ever reach the ocean.

Some of the rain has fallen in the catchment of the Darling River, where it will flow down and meet the Murray. The Darling is often filled by summer rains, while the Murray gets more water from autumn and winter rains. This water will eventually reach the Southern Ocean.

But most of the rain fell further inland. The waters snaking through the channels will head south, flowing slowly along the flat ground for weeks until it crosses the South Australian border and begins to fill up Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre. Here, the waters will stop, more than 300 km from the nearest ocean at Port Augusta, and fill what is normally a huge, salty depression and Australia’s lowest point, 15 metres below sea level.

When Kati Thanda-Lake Eyre fills, it creates an extraordinary spectacle. Millions of brine shrimp will hatch from eggs in the dry soil. This sudden abundance will draw waterbirds in their millions, while fish carried in the floodwaters will spawn and eat the shrimp. Then there are the remarkable shield shrimps, hibernating inland crabs and salt-adapted hardyhead fish.

The rain event will send enough water to keep Lake Eyre full for many months and it usually takes up to two years for it to dry out again. We can expect to see a huge lake form – the size of a small European country. Birdwatchers and biologists will flock to the area to see the sight of a temporary sea in the desert.

Eventually, the intense sun of the outback will evaporate every last drop of the floodwaters, leaving behind salted ground and shrimp eggs for the next big rains.

As the climate keeps warming, we can expect to see more sudden torrential rain dumps like this one, followed by periods of rapid drying.

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.

The damage climate change will inflict on the world’s economy is likely to have been massively underestimated, according to new research by my colleagues and I which accounts for the full global reach of extreme weather and its aftermath.

To date, projections of how climate change will affect global gross domestic product (GDP) have broadly suggested mild to moderate harm. This in part has led to a lack of urgency in national efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

However, these models often contain a fundamental flaw – they assume a national economy is affected only by weather in that country. Any impacts from weather events elsewhere, such as how flooding in one country affects the food supply to another, are not incorporated into the models.

Our new research sought to fix this. After including the global repercussions of extreme weather into our models, the predicted harm to global GDP became far worse than previously thought – affecting the lives of people in every country on Earth.

Weather shocks everywhere, all at once

Global warming affects economies in many ways.

The most obvious is damage from extreme weather. Droughts can cause poor harvests, while storms and floods can cause widespread destruction and disrupt the supply of goods. Recent research has also shown heatwaves, aggravated by climate change, have contributed to food inflation.

Heat also makes workers less productive. It affects human health, and disease transmission, and can cause mass migration and conflict.

Most prior research predicts that even extreme warming of 4°C will have only mild negative impacts on the global economy by the end of the century – between 7% and 23%.

Such modelling is usually based on the effects of weather shocks in the past. However, these shocks have typically been confined to a local or regional scale, and balanced out by conditions elsewhere.

For example, in the past, South America might have been in drought, but other parts of the world were getting good rainfall. So, South America could rely on imports of agricultural products from other countries to fill domestic shortfalls and prevent spikes in food prices.

But future climate change will increase the risk of weather shocks occurring simultaneously across countries and more persistently over time. This will disrupt the networks producing and delivering goods, compromise trade and limit the extent to which countries can help each other.

International trade is fundamental to the global economic production. So, our research examined how a country’s future economic growth would be influenced by weather conditions everywhere else in the world.

What did we find?

One thing was immediately clear: a warm year across the planet causes lower global growth.

We corrected three leading models to account for the effects of global weather on national economies, then averaged out their results. Our analysis focused on global GDP per capita – in other words, the world’s economic output divided by its population.

We found if the Earth warms by more than 3°C by the end of the century, the estimated harm to the global economy jumped from an average of 11% (under previous modelling assumptions) to 40% (under our modelling assumptions). This level of damage could devastate livelihoods in large parts of the world.

Previous models have asserted economies in cold parts of the world, such as Russia and Northern Europe, will benefit from warmer global temperatures. However, we found the impact on the global economy was so large, all countries will be badly affected.

Costs vs benefits

Reducing emissions leads to short-term economic costs. These must be balanced against the long-term benefits of avoiding dangerous climate change.

Recent economic modelling has suggested this balance would be struck by reducing emissions at a rate that allows Earth to heat by 2.7°C.

This is close to Earth’s current warming trajectory. But it is far higher than the goals of the Paris Agreement, and global warming limits recommended by climate scientists. It is also based on the flawed assumptions discussed above.

Under our new research, the optimal amount of global warming, balancing short-term costs with long-term benefits, is 1.7°C – a figure broadly consistent with the Paris Agreement’s most ambitious target.

Changing course

Our new research shows previous forecasts of how such warming will affect the global economy have been far too optimistic. It adds to other recent evidence suggesting the economic impacts of climate change has been badly underestimated.

Clearly, Earth’s current emissions trajectory risks our future and that of our children. The sooner humanity grasps the calamities in store under severe climate change, the sooner we can change course to avoid it.

Timothy Neal, Senior lecturer in Economics / Institute for Climate Risk and Response, UNSW Sydney

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