Every year off the South Australian coast, giant Australian cuttlefish come together in huge numbers to breed. They put on a technicolour display of blue, purple, green, red and gold, changing hues as they mate and lay eggs.

This dynamic, dreamlike display takes place in the upper Spencer Gulf, near Whyalla. This short strip of coastline is the only place in the world to host this spectacular event.

But South Australia’s killer algal bloom is advancing towards this natural wonder. If the algae reach the breeding site in the coming weeks or months, they could wipe the cuttlefish population out.

Now, scientists may have a chance to get there first, take some eggs and raise an insurance population in captivity. This rescue operation would be a world first.

Why are the cuttlefish so vulnerable?

The giant Australian cuttlefish congregate to mate in waters off Whyalla every winter, in a gathering known as a “breeding aggregation”. The sanctuary area received National Heritage status in 2023.

The displays of movement and colour take place as abundant males vie for the attention of a female. Each year it attracts tourists, photographers and marine life enthusiasts. To witness it, all you need is a thick wetsuit, mask and snorkel.

Cuttlefish are cephalopods, alongside octopus and squid. While cephalopods are adaptable to environmental change, their generations don’t overlap. This means the parents die before the offspring are born, and so the population cannot be replenished by the parents if the offspring are wiped out.

By now, in upper Spencer Gulf, most adult cuttlefish will be breeding and naturally dying off, leaving the eggs behind. They will incubate for about three months, then hatch and swim away.

What if the algal bloom reaches the cuttlefish?

The harmful microalgal bloom of Karenia mikimotoi first appeared in March this year on two surf beaches outside Gulf St Vincent, about an hour south of Adelaide. It is thought to have been triggered by a persistent marine heatwave coupled with prolonged calm weather, and possibly excess nutrients from the 2022–23 Murray River flooding event.

It has since spread to many corners of South Australia, and has now reached the lower to middle reaches of Spencer Gulf. Preliminary modelling revealed last week shows the bloom could spread through Spencer Gulf, up to Whyalla and across to Port Pirie.

The disaster has already affected about 400 types of fish and marine animals. And we know this algal species can rapidly dispatch cephalopods, both large and small. In other parts of South Australia already affected by the algal bloom, dead octopus and cuttlefish have been extensively photographed and recorded.

If the latest batch of eggs dies in the algal bloom, their parents will no longer be around to rebreed and restore the population next year. This means the population could go extinct.

Could we lose a species?

More than 100 cuttlefish species exist worldwide. The giant Australian cuttlefish is found throughout southern Australia, from Moreton Bay in Queensland to Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia.

However, the breeding aggregation is genetically distinct from even its closest cuttlefish neighbours in southern Spencer Gulf, about 200 kilometres away. And genetic evidence suggests the upper Spencer Gulf population could well be its own species, although scientists haven’t confirmed this yet.

Regardless, this cuttlefish population is truly unique. It is the only population of giant Australian cuttlefish, and the only population of cuttlefish worldwide, to breed en masse in such a spectacular fashion.

That’s why saving it from the algal bloom is so important.

Can we save this natural wonder?

Today I’ll be meeting with fellow marine and cephalopod experts at an emergency meeting convened by the South Australian government. There, we will discuss the feasibility of collecting an insurance population of eggs from the cuttlefish population.

Timing is everything. Two or three months from now, the eggs could be too developed to collect safely, because moving can trigger premature hatching. Even later, the eggs will have hatched and the hatchlings will have swum away.

Ironically, while the mass gathering of cuttlefish makes the species vulnerable to a permanent wipeout, it also makes them easier to rescue.

Collecting, transporting and raising eggs in tanks is a relatively straightforward process at a smaller scale. It has been done successfully for research purposes in South Australia.

Raising hatchlings is harder and more labour intensive. Then there is the question of what to do with them once they hatch. But the three-month incubation period would buy us time.

Zoe Doubleday, Marine Ecologist and ARC Future Fellow, University of South Australia

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

When you think about climate change in our oceans, you may picture coral bleaching, melting sea ice, or extreme weather events. But beneath the ocean’s surface, another quiet shift is underway. Australia’s tropical fish are heading south into cooler waters.

These fish are not just visiting. They are settling into the milder “temperate” reefs that used to be too cold for them. As they do, they encounter new environments, new challenges and new neighbours.

In our new research we studied the behaviour of these new migrants. We found some tropical fish are not just surviving in their new homes, they’re thriving. And, surprisingly, much of that success comes down to who they’re hanging out with.

A slow-motion invasion

Tropical fish travel poleward via ocean currents.

On Australia’s east coast, the fish typically hitch a ride on the strengthening East Australian Current as it pushes warm water and the tropical species further south.

Some species are showing up hundreds of kilometres beyond their usual home range. Many tropical fish arrive on temperate reefs during summer, and used to die over winter when the water grew colder. Now, as winter water temperatures increase, some tropical fish survive year-round in temperate reefs.

But life at the edge of your range is risky. These fish encounter colder water temperatures, unfamiliar predators and a reef full of competitors. So, how do they cope?

Risky business: but some fish can adapt

We studied five tropical fish species and two temperate species across a 2,000km stretch of Australia’s east coast, from the tropics to the cold temperate south. We observed how these fish fed, sheltered and reacted to threats, using underwater video cameras.

Analysis of the footage revealed tropical fish behaved differently in the colder waters. They spent more time hiding and less time feeding. They were also more wary of predators, displaying a cognitive shift in “lateralisation” — a preference to consistently turn left or right, which can help fish make faster escape decisions when threatened.

Such risk-averse behaviour is likely to help fish stay alive in unfamiliar reefs by avoiding predators. But it also reduces food intake and growth, unless these fish find new friends.

New school mates, better outcomes

Previous research has shown when tropical fish gather or “shoal” with temperate fish, they grow bigger and survive longer into winter than fish in tropical-only shoals.

We wanted to understand the mechanism for this phenomenon. Could tropical fish be learning from temperate shoal mates? And how might their behaviour change when shoaling with temperate fishes?

Using underwater videos, we found three tropical damselfish species spent more time feeding and less time sheltering when they formed mixed shoals with temperate fish. They also appeared bolder and were more successful at finding food.

We think these mixed shoals offer key advantages: safety in numbers, more eyes watching for predators, and perhaps most importantly, social learning. By shoaling with local temperate species such as the Australian Mado, tropical fish may learn where and when it’s safe to feed, and how to behave in these foreign temperate ecosystems.

This kind of behavioural “plasticity” is a powerful tool in a changing climate. Fish that can adjust their behaviours in ways that boost their fitness are more likely to survive as climatic conditions rapidly shift in our oceans.

Not all fish benefit

These interactions were not always beneficial. Two herbivorous tropical fish species, the convict tang and brown tang, did not show the same benefits, likely because their specialised diets made it harder to learn from omnivorous temperate species.

And for the temperate fish, the presence of tropical fish in shoals were often problematic. At the northern, warmer edge of their range, temperate fish fled more often and fed less when tropical fish were present. That’s worrying, because warming alone is already pushing many temperate species toward their biological limits. Adding new competitors might push them over the edge.

A changing reef community

All this comes amid dire news of the Earth’s oceans. Research published today shows 2023 set new records for the duration, extent and intensity of marine heatwaves.

Fish migration to temperate reefs is a glimpse of the future: even warmer waters, shifting species ranges and new species interactions.

Our results suggest these new species interactions and relationships, particularly mixed-species shoaling, can help tropical fish survive longer in temperate ecosystems. But they may also disrupt existing ecosystems and place extra stress on local temperate species.

In this way, climate-driven range shifts are more than just a temperature driven story. They’re stories about behaviour, relationships, and resilience.

Understanding how fish respond to their new neighbours and how those responses shape who stays and who goes, will be key to managing reefs in a rapidly warming ocean.

Angus Mitchell, Postdoctoral Researcher in Marine Ecology, University of Adelaide; Chloe Hayes, Postdoctoral Researcher in Marine Ecology, University of Adelaide, and Ivan Nagelkerken, Professor, Marine Biology, University of Adelaide

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

The world’s oceans are being rapidly transformed as climate change intensifies. Corals are bleaching, sea levels are rising, and seawater is becoming more acidic – making life difficult for shellfish and reef-building corals. All this and more is unfolding on our watch, with profound consequences for marine ecosystems and the people who depend on them.

In response, scientists, governments and industries are trying to intervene. People all over the world are experimenting with new ways to capture and store more carbon dioxide, or make up for damage already done.

Ocean-based climate actions include breeding more heat-tolerant corals, restoring mangroves, and farming seaweed. Such interventions offer hope, but they’re also inherently risky. Some may be ineffective, inequitable or even harmful.

The pace of innovation is now outstripping the capacity to responsibly regulate, monitor and evaluate these interventions. This means current and future generations may not be getting value for money, or worse – the chance to avoid irreversible change may be slipping away.

In our new research, published in Science, we reviewed the latest evidence on known and perceived risks of new ocean-based climate interventions. We then gathered emerging ideas on how to reduce those risks.

We found the risks aren’t being widely considered, and the benefits are unclear. But there are emerging assessment tools and planning frameworks we can build on, to plan ocean-based climate actions that meet humanity’s climate goals.

The promise and peril of marine climate interventions

Marine climate interventions vary in scope and ambition. Examples can be found all over the world. These include:

• making oceans in North America more alkaline (less acidic) so they can take up more carbon dioxide

• breeding heat-tolerant corals in Australia to transplant onto degraded reefs

• farming seaweed in Africa to capture carbon and reduce ocean acidity

• restoring mangroves in Asia to defend coastal communities

• avoiding emissions by banning offshore oil and gas exploration.

Some interventions are still at proof-of-concept stage, and several have been tested and abandoned. Others are facing challenges owing to complexity of monitoring and verification.

Each has its own set of benefits, costs and risks. For example, making the ocean more alkaline may help to squeeze in more carbon from the atmosphere, but it’s difficult to verify how much carbon has been removed. This makes it hard to justify the costs and the potential damage to ecosystems, such as effects on local fish populations.

Restoring coral can support biodiversity in the short term, but it may not last as warming exceeds their (modified) ability to adapt. This type of intervention is also expensive and labour-intensive, with unintended emissions from energy-intensive processes. So it may be impossible to scale up.

Seaweed farming at scale would occupy thousands if not millions of square kilometres of oceans, displacing fishing, shipping and conservation. Harvesting 1 billion tonnes of seaweed carbon would require farming more than 1 million square km of the Pacific Ocean, and would deliver just 10% of the annual atmospheric carbon dioxide removal required to limit global warming to 1.5°C.

It’s doubtful whether seaweed farming would actually remove carbon from the atmosphere. But seaweed farming can – if well-planned – produce a range of other climate-related benefits.

Moreover, interventions often overlap in space and time, creating cumulative impacts and unintended consequences. In some cases, the projects may displace other users, undermine Indigenous rights, or erode public trust in climate science and policy. Without careful understanding and planning, these efforts could exacerbate the very problems they aim to solve.

Governance gaps and ethical dilemmas

One of the most pressing challenges is the lack of regulation and oversight suited to the scale and complexity of marine climate interventions.

Existing regulations are often outdated, fragmented, or designed for land-based systems. Few countries have biosafety laws for the ocean. This means many interventions proceed without comprehensive risk assessments or community consultation.

Ethical dilemmas abound. Who decides what constitutes a “healthy” ocean? Who bears responsibility if an intervention causes harm? And how do we ensure benefits — such as improved livelihoods or climate resilience — are equitably distributed?

Currently, scientists, funding bodies and non-government organisations do the bulk of the decision-making. There is limited input from governments, local communities and Indigenous Peoples. This imbalance risks perpetuating historical injustices and undermining the legitimacy of many ocean-based climate actions.

Toward responsible marine transformation

We identified opportunities for scientists, policymakers, and funding bodies to work together more effectively on more comprehensive assessments of interventions.

Guidelines and insights are emerging from experimental-scale research into capturing and storing “blue” carbon in ocean and coastal ecosystems. Similarly, a non-profit organisation in the United States has developed a code of conduct for marine carbon dioxide removal. However these guidelines are yet to be integrated into broader governance frameworks.

Awareness of the urgent need to ensure intervention is done responsibly is also growing. Many high-level policy documents now recognise the importance of transitioning to more sustainable, equitable, and adaptive states. For example, the Samoa Climate Change Policy 2020 recognises the need to adapt coastal economies and communities to warming oceans, while also working to reduce carbon emissions.

Proceed with caution

The ocean is central to our climate future. It absorbs heat, stores carbon, and sustains life. But it is also vulnerable — and increasingly, a site of experimentation. If we are to harness the promise of ocean-based climate action, we must do so with care, humility, and foresight.

Responsible governance is not a barrier to innovation — it is its foundation. By embedding ethical, inclusive, and evidence-based principles into our marine climate strategies, we can chart a course toward a more resilient and equitable ocean future.

Emily M. Ogier, Associate Professor in Marine Social Science, University of Tasmania; Gretta Pecl, Professor, Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies and Director of the Centre for Marine Socioecology, UTAS, University of Tasmania, and Tiffany Morrison, Professor, School of Geography, Earth & Atmospheric Sciences, The University of Melbourne

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

Every year, nomadic Australian waterbirds fly vast distances to find food and the perfect nesting site. They have to be good at finding not just water, but the right kind of water. But across much of Australia, that can be hard.

These species need long periods of flooding to produce the shallow, food-filled wetlands that support them and their chicks during breeding seasons. If the floodwaters fall too rapidly, the whole season can be threatened.

We don’t yet fully understand how these birds find these temporary wetlands. But by putting satellite trackers on species such as great egrets, plumed egrets, royal spoonbills and straw-necked ibis, we found the hidden flyways – bird highways – they use to search for wetlands in the Murray-Darling Basin.

Our research has also shown how important it is for these birds to be flexible to survive in a tough environment. Birds dependent on flooding can’t just do the same thing every year – they have to constantly change destinations.

Our research can help focus conservation and protection efforts to ensure the most important breeding and feeding sites have reliable access to water.

Chasing the floodwaters

As rivers swell and break their banks, floodwaters fill dry billabongs and cover low-lying areas. These shallow, temporary wetlands soon fill with insects and young fish. For inland waterbirds, these wetlands offer food and safe nesting places.

But egrets, spoonbills and ibis can take years to reach breeding age. If conditions aren’t right, they won’t breed at all.

Australia is known for its waterbirds, both inland and coastal. To protect local species and those migrating from far away, Australia has made international commitments to protect waterbirds and wetlands.

But when human demand for water clashes with the needs of waterbirds, the birds can lose out. If irrigation and farming uses up too much water, there may not be enough left for the wetlands these birds need.

The Murray-Darling Basin contains critically important wetlands for waterbirds and is also home to many farms, orchards and rice paddies. Ensuring there’s enough water in the system for healthy wetlands is already difficult, and will get harder as rainfall becomes less predictable under climate change.

To help with this problem, water managers periodically release environmental flows of water from dams back into the Murray-Darling system. Among other things, these flows are designed to give waterbirds the conditions they need to successfully breed.

Backpacks for birds

In 2016, we began placing tiny backpacks equipped with satellite trackers on waterbirds to find where they move to. Over the last decade, bird satellite tracking has come a long way. Many are solar powered, transmitting accurate data as often as we need it and over months to years. These days, trackers weigh just 1–3% of the weight of the bird.

We now have more than 50,000 days of data from more than 200 birds. We tracked some birds for more than seven years, and tracked some juveniles from their hatching site to their first breeding season.

The birds nest in noisy groups of thousands to tens of thousands when conditions are right. We chose them because they have similar habitat and food requirements as many other related waterbird species.

What our research shows is how vital it is to be flexible. Birds from each species often proved able to switch movement styles over time. One season, they might stay close to productive wetlands, while another might see them flying long distances.

Straw-necked ibis, royal spoonbills and egrets often switch between local movements all the way through to continental scale, though this can vary between species and individual birds. By contrast, the familiar white ibis tend to stay in one place as adults.

Individual waterbirds can use favourable winds to travel long distances. We recorded some birds flying at speeds up to 135 kmh, with daily records of 700 km and annual totals of over 15,000 km. Some flew as high as 2,800 metres.

In 2023, we tracked a newly fledged plumed egret flying from the Macquarie Marshes in northern New South Wales to Papua New Guinea. It was the first time the species has been tracked doing this in detail and it was remarkable to watch the egret cross the ocean, flying 38 hours non-stop from coast to coast.

The data provide clear evidence of common movement routes used by ibis, spoonbills and egrets. We named the largest of these the Murray-Darling Basin Flyway, as it connects important breeding sites from south-west Victoria all the way to southern Queensland. These include the Barmah-Millewa Forest on the Murray River, Gayini and Yanga on the Murrumbidgee River, Lake Cowal, the Macquarie Marshes, the Narran Lakes and the Gwydir Wetlands.

In an Australian first, we also tracked nesting birds. This shows us where and when adults get food for their chicks, and when and how often they attend the nest. We found straw-necked ibis often travel much further to find food when nesting than royal spoonbills or white ibis.

Tracking what’s lacking

Tracking waterbirds has given us new insight into how cleverly these birds deal with Australia’s extreme conditions.

But while these birds have been able to survive Australia’s seesawing climate, it’s an open question whether they can hold on as climate change makes water even less predictable – and as human demands increase.

Heather McGinness, Senior Research Scientist, CSIRO; Luke Lloyd-Jones, Research Scientist, CSIRO, and Micha V Jackson, Researcher in Applied Ecology, CSIRO

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

An introduced black rat scratches through leaf litter, looking for food. Nearby, a native water rat watches on, its beady eyes shining. The native rat pounces out from the shadows, sending the invader fleeing.

The encounter in Sydney bushland, captured on video, is the first documented evidence of an aggressive interaction in nature between a native water rat, also known as rakali, and a black rat.

The footage, discussed in our new research, provides proof that rakali (Hydromys chrysogaster) actively hunt introduced black rats (Rattus rattus). This behaviour may offer a promising natural form of pest control.

Rakali are carnivorous rodents, and the largest of Australia’s 60 native rat species. Our findings suggest efforts to conserve the rakali should include Australia’s urban environments, where introduced rats cause a host of problems.

The problem of black rats

Rats have lived with humans for about 4,000 years. In Australia, invasive rats are an ongoing concern.

Anecdotal reports suggest Sydney, for example, has a growing vermin problem. Public concern was fuelled late last year when footage emerged of rats scurrying through a food court at a popular Sydney shopping centre (see video below).

Black rats and brown rats are the two main pest rat species in Australia. Both were introduced by Europeans. They compete aggressively against other species for food and can breed quickly.

Black rats are particularly abundant in urban areas and nearby bushland. They may prefer natural vegetation to urban environments, if there are no competitors around.

Their ecological impact is significant. Black rats prey on bird nests, skinks and invertebrates and also eat seeds.

Black rats also pose serious health risks to humans, pets and wildlife.

They are the primary host of rat lungworm, a parasite on the rise in Australian cities. Rats also spread leptospirosis, a bacterial infection that has killed several dogs in Sydney in recent years, and infected scores of humans.

Managing introduced rats is becoming increasingly difficult. Some rodenticides have become less effective as rats developed genetic resistance. And rat poisons have been known to harm native species.

Clearly, better ways of managing introduced rats are needed. That’s where our new paper comes in.

Enter the rakali

The rakali, or water rat, is found across much of Australia. It is semi-aquatic and usually lives near fresh or brackish (slightly salty) water such as creeks and estuaries. It is often described as Australia’s “otter”.

The rakali weighs up to 1 kilogram – far greater than an adult black rat which typically weighs up to 200 grams.

While surveying rakali around Sydney Harbour in June 2011, we captured footage of one lying in wait before ambushing a black rat.

The observation took place in bushland on the foreshore of Sydney Harbour, near Collins Beach at North Head. We had set up a motion-sensing wildlife camera as part of a pilot study to understand relationships between rakali and black rats.

At 10.22pm, the camera recorded a rakali next to a rock and hidden by vegetation. A black rat approached, and the rakali leapt out and chased it off.

But do rakali kill black rats, or just chase them? Captive rakali have been known to kill and eat other rat species in captivity. And given the larger size and carnivorous diet of the rakali, they may in fact prey on black rats in the wild.

Or rakali may reduce black rat numbers the same way dingoes reduce fox activity – by both preying on some and scaring others away.

Our paper also canvasses growing evidence that native rodents can resist and suppress their invasive counterparts.

For example, native bush rats (Rattus fuscipes) were presumed to be outcompeted by black rats. But an experiment at Jervis Bay in New South Wales removed black rats, allowing bush rats to reclaim their territory. After the experiment ended, black rats did not return.

At North Head on Sydney Harbour, reintroducing bush rats to areas where they once lived led to a dramatic decline in black rat numbers.

Recent research reported on footage captured in a Perth backyard of black rats attacking a native quenda, a small marsupial species found only in southwest Australia. However, the quenda appeared to fend off the attack. This means it’s possible rakali, which are much larger than quenda, would be even more aggressive towards black rats.

Native rats to the rescue?

Evidence is growing that native rodents can help control pest rodents.

This is especially true of rakali, which live in all major Australian cities where black rats are common. More research is needed to better understand the potential of rakali to manage invasive black rat populations.

Troublingly, however, native rats are vulnerable to rodenticides. To support their role in pest management, the use of poisons to control pest rats should be reconsidered.

By allowing native rodents to thrive, we may be able to harness their natural behaviours to control invasive pests safely, sustainably and effectively.

Peter Banks, Professor of Conservation Biology, School of Life and Environmental Sciences, University of Sydney and Jenna Bytheway, Senior Research Officer in Conservation Biology, University of Sydney

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

The United Nations Climate Change Executive Secretary, Simon Stiell, has urged the Australian government to set an ambitious 2035 emissions reduction target, declaring “bog standard is beneath you”.

In a Monday speech, Stiell says, “don’t settle for what’s easy. Go for what’s smart by going big”.

His speech, hosted by the Smart Energy Council, comes ahead of his meeting with the Minister for Climate Change and Energy, Chris Bowen, in Canberra on Tuesday. Australia must submit its 2035 target under the Paris climate agreement by September. The Climate Change Authority has yet to deliver its advice to Bowen on the target. Previously, it has pointed to a target of between 65% and 75% reduction on 2005 levels.

The authority says on its website:

development of the 2035 targets advice is currently underway. This includes complex whole-of-economy modelling, policy analysis, consultation and consideration of international trends in climate action.

Stiell said Australia had a strong economy and among the world’s highest living standards. “If you want to keep them, doubling down on clean energy is an economic no-brainer.

"So the choice is clear. The question is: how far are you willing to go?

"The answer is due in September – when Australia’s next national climate plan is due. This isn’t just the next policy milestone. It’s a defining moment.”

Stiell said this was the moment for a climate plan that did not just write a vision into policy, “but delivers in spades for your people.

"Go for what will build lasting wealth and national security.”

He said this could be “Australia’s moment”.

“You’ve got world-class resources, a skilled, inventive workforce, and a A$22.7 billion plan – Future Made in Australia – with real ambition behind it.

"You’ve doubled renewable capacity since 2019.

"You’ve enshrined targets in law, and you’ve got strong, long-term policy signals.”

On the other side of the coin, Stiell warned if climate change was unchecked it would cripple Australia’s food production, and the country could face $6.8 trillion GDP loss by 2050.

“Living standards could drop by over $7,000 per person per year. And rising seas, resource pressures, and extreme weather would destabilise Australia’s neighbourhood – from Pacific Island nations to Southeast Asia – threatening your security.”

Bowen will also be hoping for some intelligence from Stiell on whether Australia’s bid to host next year’s COP will succeed.

Meanwhile, the push continues within the Coalition from those who want to dump its commitment to the net zero emissions by 2050 target.

The Western Australian Liberal party state council on the weekend called for the federal opposition to abandon the target. The motion came from the party’s Canning division, which is the seat held by frontbencher Andrew Hastie.

Hastie, speaking after it was carried, said it sent a “clear signal” to Australians that “we stand for something”.

In his weekly newsletter to subscribers, Hastie denounces the “net zero scam”.

“The Net Zero economy favours big, foreign, commercial interests that employ platoons of sophisticated lobbyists to protect the legislated system of climate taxes, subsidies, and penalties that favours renewable energy.

"They cloak their commercial interests in the language of climate and crisis and emergency.

"The Labor Government is their enabler.”

The opposition has a review of its energy policy underway that Hastie, despite being in the shadow cabinet, appears to be pre-empting.

In the House of Representatives on Monday, the Nationals Barnaby Joyce introduced his private member’s bill to scrap Australia’s commitment to net zero.

“Net zero is going to have absolutely no effect on the climate whatsoever. The vast majority of the globe in both population and GDP are not participating in it, he told the house.

"So why are we doing this to ourselves?”

It had changed the standard of living for many Australians, he said. “Our GDP per person is going down. People are becoming poorer. If you go into shops they talk about 30 to 40% of their costs being energy”. In a more pronounced way, it was hurting the poorest, who needed the power to keep themselves warm, Joyce said.

Coalition rebels defect to support One Nation motion against net zero

In the Senate late Monday, Nationals Matt Canavan and Liberal Alex Antic defected from the opposition’s position to vote for a Pauline Hanson’s One Nation motion condemning net zero.

The motion called on the Senate to recognise as a matter of urgency,“The need for the Government to scrap its net-zero emissions target and instead prioritise providing Australian families, farmers, businesses and industry with cheap and reliable energy, to protect jobs, ensure energy security, lower the cost of living and restore Australia’s economic competitiveness”.

Hanson said net zero was “the most suicidal policy Australia has ever had”.

Liberal frontbencher Paul Scarr said the opposition would not be diverted from its policy review process.

Michelle Grattan, Professorial Fellow, University of Canberra

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

Building a solar farm in Australia is getting about 8% cheaper each year as panel prices fall and technology improves, according to an official new report. Battery storage costs are falling even more sharply, dropping 20% over the past year alone.

But the same can’t be said for wind farms, the second-largest source of renewable energy in Australia. Onshore wind costs actually rose about 8% in 2023–24 and another 6% in 2024–25.

The findings are contained in the GenCost 2024–25 report by CSIRO and the Australian Energy Market Operator, released this week.

Rising costs are putting real pressure on the wind industry, undermining investor confidence. Developers of offshore wind projects are walking away, and even cheaper on-shore wind projects are under strain. Even as wind energy becomes a mainstay in China, the United States and Germany, the industry faces real headwinds in Australia.

This is surprising. Wind, like solar, was projected to get steadily cheaper. The fuel is free and turbines are getting better and better. Instead, wind in Australia has remained stubbornly expensive. Solving the problem will be challenging. But solutions have to be found fast if Australia is to reach the goal of 82% renewable power in the grid by 2030 – now less than five years away.

Five reasons why this is happening

Here’s what’s going on:

1. Global supply chains have been disrupted

The cost of steel, copper, fibreglass and other materials vital for wind turbines shot up during the pandemic. As a result, turbine prices rose almost 40% between 2020 and 2022. While input costs have fallen, turbine prices remain high. Solar panels can be churned out in factories, but modern wind turbines are massive, complex structures that require specialised manufacturing and logistics. That makes them more sensitive to global price fluctuations.

2. Good wind is often in remote places

Australia’s best wind resources are typically far from cities and existing grid infrastructure. Connecting far-flung wind farms such as Tasmania’s Robbins Island to the grid can require new and very expensive transmission lines. Remote sites mean extra costs such as temporary worker accommodation. The GenCost report notes this has added about 4% to wind project budgets in 2024–25 compared with the year before.

Many other countries rely heavily on offshore wind, because wind blows more strongly and reliably over oceans. Unfortunately, spiking costs are likely to further delay the arrival of offshore wind in Australia. GenCost projects the first offshore wind projects in Australia will face even steeper costs.

3. Local construction and labour costs have soared

Australia faces a shortage of workers with the skills to build and maintain wind farms, resulting in higher wages and recruitment costs. Wind developers say construction costs have become a real issue. Wind farms are more labour-intensive than solar.

4. Interest rates have raised financing costs

Wind farms require large upfront investments and lengthy construction periods. Even a small increase in interest rates can make them unviable – and interest rates have been high for some time.

5. Reliability concerns, regulatory delay and community opposition

According to US researchers, technical issues have emerged for some new wind turbines, creating unexpected costs for developers. The long, complex process of getting permits, carrying out environmental assessments and building community support is pushing out project timelines, increasing costs and uncertainty for developers.

Will solar take over?

Solar faces far fewer challenges. Solar panels are mass-produced, meaning costs are steadily driven down through economies of scale. Panels can be deployed quickly and solar farms tend to face less community opposition.

Wind turbines have to spin to function, while solar panels have no moving parts (though systems that track the Sun do). As a result, solar farms require less maintenance and are more reliable.

It’s no surprise large-scale solar has been on a record-breaking run, growing 20-fold between 2018 and 2023.

Solar panels make electricity during daylight hours, especially in summer. By contrast, wind tends to produce more power at night and during winter months. This is why wind is so useful to a green grid.

Generating power from both wind and sunshine can slash how much storage is needed to ensure grid reliability, lowering overall system costs. A balanced mix of wind, solar and storage will meet Australia’s electricity needs more efficiently and reliably than just solar and storage, according to the International Renewable Energy Agency and independent researchers.

Could wind come back?

Making wind more viable will take work. Potential solutions do exist, such as expanding the skilled workforce and investing in specialised ships and equipment to install turbines offshore.

Shipping large turbines from Denmark or China is expensive. To avoid these costs, it could make sense to encourage local manufacturing of large and heavy parts such as the main tower.

Other options include finding lower-cost turbine suppliers and streamlining regulatory processes.

The newly announced expansion of the government’s Capacity Investment Scheme could help reduce risks and give certainty, alongside public investment in new transmission lines.

If nothing is done or if new measures don’t help, wind is likely to stall while solar and storage race ahead.

That’s not the worst outcome. Australia could get a long way by relying on batteries and pumped hydro to store power from solar during the day and release it in the evenings, as California is doing. But this strategy involves trade offs, such as higher storage-capacity needs and the risk of insufficient power during long cloudy periods.

For Australia to optimise its mix of renewables and storage, policymakers will have to tackle wind’s cost challenges. Effective action could lower costs, accelerate project timelines and bolster flagging investor confidence.

Magnus Söderberg, Professor and Director, Centre for Applied Energy Economics and Policy Research, Griffith University

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

In a world affected by climate change, the Southern Ocean plays an outsized role. It absorbs up to 40% of the human-caused emissions taken up by the oceans while also being home to some of the world’s most vulnerable ecosystems.

Understanding these ecosystems and how they’re changing is crucial – but challenging. Patterns and trends in this remote, chaotic ocean are often obscured by short-term variation.

The only way to see through the noise is to make sustained measurements, year after year, for decades.

In the heart of the Southern Ocean there is a car-sized yellow and blue structure floating on the surface. It may not look like much, but this is the tip of a vast underwater observatory that has monitored the pulse of this region for nearly three decades.

Known as the Southern Ocean Time Series (SOTS), this observatory endures cyclone-strength winds and waves up to 18 metres high. The knowledge it provides has been collected in several recent studies, including one just published in Ocean Science.

From the surface to the seafloor

Established in 1997 by CSIRO researcher Tom Trull, the observatory consists of two automated deep-water moorings about 500 kilometres southwest of Tasmania.

Anchored to the seafloor 4,500 metres below, these moorings are maintained by annual voyages of the CSIRO research vessel Investigator from Hobart.

Together, they observe the entire water column, from the wave-lashed surface to the deep. Now in its 28th year, the SOTS program is the longest-running observation program in the open Southern Ocean.

The only actual sign of the observatory is the yellow mooring on the surface, known as the Southern Ocean Flux Station. It has an array of 30 different atmospheric and weather sensors. These transmit near-real time weather data used in Bureau of Meteorology forecasts.

Below the surface is an automated water sampler and some 40 sensors mounted along the 4,500m mooring lines down to the deep sea. Joining the floating laboratory is another mooring made of three large funnels that intercept sinking marine particles on their journey to the seafloor.

What data has the observatory provided?

The newly published study uses the observatory’s data from 1997 to 2022 to quantify how heat and carbon enter the ocean, and how ecosystem structure changes over seasons.

These results show just how important are the tiny marine plants known as phytoplankton.

They control the amount of atmospheric carbon dioxide entering the ocean. This can be directly linked to how much carbon actually makes it to the deep ocean and is locked away for long periods of time – this process is known as the “biological pump”.

At the same time, we’ve been figuring out what controls phytoplankton populations and their ability to help this part of the ocean absorb more carbon. Other research from the SOTS site published earlier this year shows exactly how marine life in this region is inextricably linked to an essential yet sparse trace metal in seawater – iron.

The SOTS program has also been helping scientists detect changes in the chemistry of the Southern Ocean, such as ocean acidification from rising atmospheric carbon dioxide.

It also allows for measurements of how carbon is absorbed by the sea, how marine ecosystems help store that carbon at depth, and how high-energy winds help supply vital nutrients to fuel these ecosystems.

The observatory has even been the site of discovery of a new marine species.

The key to success

All these results are only possible thanks to the longevity and sustained funding of the SOTS program. It yields sufficient data far enough back in time, and fills gaps that can’t be provided by satellites.

Without dedicated, long-term monitoring, we would have no baseline to track climate change and a poor understanding of the weather systems and ecosystems in this important part of the world. It also contributes to our ability to forecast daily weather in Australia and long-term climate.

But the value of SOTS reaches far beyond the Southern Ocean. Our national monitoring program contributes to global networks in an international, coordinated effort to observe, understand and predict weather and climate. It helps us prepare for extreme events that are set to become more frequent.

This example is timely. Funding cuts to the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) have resulted in staff layoffs, with 17% of NOAA’s workforce to be cut next year and the risk of extreme weather monitoring stations shutting down.

NOAA is responsible for several ocean monitoring sites. It is also responsible for meteorological satellites and the Argo robotic float program – both globally important monitoring platforms.

As ocean and climate monitoring systems abroad face the fallout from potential loss of observing systems, Australia’s Southern Ocean Time Series continues on – and its importance is only increasing.

Funding for the SOTS program comes via the Integrated Marine Observing System, the Australian Antarctic Program Partnership, and through collaboration between CSIRO and the Bureau of Meteorology.

Christopher Traill, PhD Candidate Southern Ocean biogeochemistry, University of Tasmania; Elizabeth Shadwick, Principal Research Scientist, Environment, CSIRO, and Tyler Rohr, ARC DECRA Fellow/Lecturer, IMAS, University of Tasmania

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

Late in the evening, the Antarctic sky flushes pink. The male leopard seal wakes and slips from the ice into the water. There, he’ll spend the night singing underwater amongst the floating ice floes.

For the next two months he sings every night. He will sing so loudly, the ice around him vibrates. Each song is a sequence of trills and hoots, performed in a particular pattern.

In a world first, we analysed leopard seal songs and found the predictability of their patterns was remarkably similar to the nursery rhymes humans sing.

We think this is a deliberate strategy. While leopard seals are solitary animals, the males need their call to carry clearly across vast stretches of icy ocean, to woo a mate.

A season of underwater solos

Leopard seals (Hydrurga leptonyx) are named after their spotted coats. They live on ice and surrounding waters in Antarctica.

Leopard seals are especially vocal during breeding season, which lasts from late October to early January. A female leopard seal sings for a few hours on the days she is in heat. But the males are the real showstoppers.

Each night, the males perform underwater solos for up to 13 hours. They dive into the sea, singing underwater for about two minutes before returning to the water’s surface to breathe and rest. This demanding routine continues for weeks.

A male leopard seal weighs about 320 kilograms, but produces surprisingly high-pitched trills, similar to those of a tiny cricket.

Within a leopard seal population, the sounds themselves don’t vary much in pitch or duration. But the order and pattern in which the sounds are produced varies considerably between individuals.

Our research examined these individual songs. We compared them to that of other vocal animals, and to human music.

Listening to songs from the sea

The data used in the study was collected by one author of this article, Tracey Rogers, in the 1990s.

Rogers rode her quad bike across the Antarctic ice to the edge of the sea and marked 26 individual male seals with dye as they slept. Then she returned to record their songs at night.

The new research involved analysing these recordings, to better understand their structure and patterns. We did this by measuring the “entropy” of their sequences. Entropy measures how predictable or random a sequence is.

We found the songs are composed of five key “notes” or call types. Listen to each one below.

A remarkably predictable pattern

We then compared the songs of the male leopard seals with several styles of human music: baroque, classical, romantic and contemporary, as well as songs by The Beatles and nursery rhymes.

What stood out was the similarity between the predictability of human nursery rhymes and leopard seal calls. Nursery rhymes are simple, repetitive and easy to remember — and that’s what we heard in the leopard seal songs.

The range of “entropy” was similar to the 39 nursery rhymes from the Golden Song Book, a collection of words and sheet music for classic children’s songs, which was first published in 1945. It includes classics such:

• Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
• Frère Jacques
• Ring Around a Rosy
• Baa, Baa, Black Sheep
• Humpty Dumpty
• Three Blind Mice
• Rockabye Baby.

For humans, the predictable structure of a nursery rhyme melody helps make it simple enough for a child to learn. For a leopard seal, this predictability may enable the individual to learn its song and keep singing it over multiple days. This consistency is important, because changes in pitch or frequency can create miscommunication.

Like sperm whales, leopard seals may also use song to set themselves apart from others and signal their fitness to reproduce. The greater structure in the songs helps ensure listeners accurately receive the message and identify who is singing.

An evolving song?

Leopard seals sound very different to humans. But our research shows the complexity and structure of their songs is remarkably similar to our own nursery rhymes.

Communication through song is a very common animal behaviour. However, structure and predictability in mammal song has only been studied in a handful of species. We know very little about what drives it.

Understanding animal communication is important. It can improve conservation efforts and animal welfare, and provide important information about animal cognition and evolution.

Technology has advanced rapidly since our recordings were made in the 1990s. In future, we hope to revisit Antarctica to record and study further, to better understand if new call types have emerged, and if patterns of leopard seal song evolve from generation to generation.

Lucinda Chambers, PhD Candidate in Marine Bioacoustics, UNSW Sydney and Tracey Rogers, Professor Evolution & Ecology, UNSW Sydney

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

Water is at the heart of the disruption wrought by climate change. The seas, once seen as vast and stable, are now unpredictable and restless.

That tidy, looping diagram of the water cycle once pinned up in primary school classrooms – clouds, rivers, evaporation and rain – now reads more like a fragmented recollection than a dependable process. Human impact has cracked that once-stable loop wide open.

Sea levels inch upward year on year. Droughts grow more prolonged and severe. Rainfall becomes erratic and violent. What was once spoken of in future tense is now present and pressing.

In Norfolk, land and sea have long coexisted in an uneasy truce. Here, the threat of sea level rise is not a speculative concern, it is data-backed, visible and accelerating.

According to research from the Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, vast swathes of Norfolk risk being submerged by rising seas if global temperatures rise by even two degrees celsius. It is one of the most at-risk areas in the UK.

Against this backdrop comes the Sainsbury Centre’s exhibition, A World of Water (part of the Can the Seas Survive Us? season). In the show, water is explored as subject, medium and metaphor. It is both agent and witness, shaping civilisations, sustaining life, and now challenging our ability to coexist with it.

Curated through an interdisciplinary lens, the exhibition was shaped by deep collaboration with scientists, artists, ecologists, activists and coastal communities. Rooted in lived experience, from a two-day walk along the Wherry Man’s Way to a 36-hour sail aboard a 1921 fishing smack, the curatorial process traced fragile coastlines and the North Sea’s rapid transformation into an industrial nexus of energy infrastructures.

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The curatorial approach to the show embraces the multifaceted nature of water by weaving together maritime history, Indigenous knowledge and contemporary works rooted in the artists’ experiences.

Many of the participating artists hail from communities already wrestling with rising tides and the realities of climate disruption. Their contributions form three thematic currents: Mudplume, Water Water Everywhere and In a State of Flux.

These overlapping threads investigate how water connects, nourishes and imperils. Rather than positioning the sea as a line of division, the exhibition reframes it as a living, connective tissue linking culture, history and ecology.

A curatorial geomorphology of the sea

Guidance for the exhibition’s conceptual framework came, fittingly, from water itself. Its mutable nature – solid, liquid, vapour – shaped the rhythm of the curatorial process. Rather than impose a rigid thesis, the exhibition offers an ever-shifting constellation of perspectives.

The exhibition journey begins with sound. Visitors are welcomed by a low murmur, tides lapping, water dripping, echoing through the museum entrance. This leads to Spiral Fosset (2024), a sculptural work by the Dutch collective De Onkruidenier.

Mirroring the central staircase of the museum, the piece suggests the brackish confluence where fresh and saltwater mingle. From here, the viewer descends into the lower galleries, reimagined as an estuary.

Within the lower galleries, artworks unfold like coastal mudflats at low tide. Seventeenth-century Dutch seascapes hang alongside photographs, video works and sculptures made from plastic waste. Sands from the beaches of Cromer, Happisburgh and Cley are featured, anchoring the exhibition in local terrain.

East Anglia’s centuries-old ties with the Low Countries form a steady through line. Hendrick van Anthonissen’s View of Scheveningen Sands (1641) shares space with works by Norwich School masters such as John Sell Cotman, John Crome and Robert Ladbrooke.

This approach privileges resonance over chronology. The exhibition avoids a linear march through time in favour of prioritising association, connection and drift. For instance, Shore Compass by Olafur Eliasson (2019) sits in subtle dialogue with Jodocus Hondius’s 1589 Drake Map an early cartographic rendering of Sir Francis Drake’s circumnavigation of the world.

Created during the height of European maritime expansion and colonialism, the map illustrates the interplay between empire, navigation and power. Time, like tide, is allowed to meander.

The exhibition adopts what might be called a “curatorial geomorphology”: a way of curating that draws on the sculpting force of water. In the natural sciences, geomorphology examines how landscapes are formed and reshaped by flowing water, storms and tides, while hydrology traces water’s movement through the environment.

This curatorial approach translates those scientific ideas into a cultural and creative practice. Like a river, it flows through histories, stories and meanings. What unfolds is a tidal narrative, an estuary of thought where time loosens, the present deepens and new futures begin to surface.

Visitors to A World of Water can expect something different from a traditional gallery experience. It invites you to think with the seas, to tune into their rhythms, tensions and secret lives.

As you wander through the galleries, you enter a realm shaped by flux, expect to feel and reimagine a world where land, water and life move as one. And perhaps, by moving as water does, we may begin to sense an answer to the question: Can the Seas Survive Us? Not in certainty, but through our collective and individual actions toward a more regenerative and sustainable future.

A World of Water is at the Sainsbury Centre Norwich until August 3. It’s part of a six-month season of interlinked exhibitions and events that explore the question: “Can the seas survive us?”

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John Kenneth Paranada, Curator of Art and Climate Change, University of East Anglia

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In recent years, I have all too often found myself passing over an active wildfire when flying from London to my family home in Greece during the summer months. The sky glows an eerie, apocalyptic red, and the scent of smoke fills the cabin. Silence falls as we become unwilling witnesses to a tragic spectacle.

Now wildfires are again raging across the Mediterranean. But the flames themselves are only part of the story. As wildfires become more intense and frequent, they’re setting off a dangerous chain reaction – one that also includes a rising risk of devastating floods.

In January 2024, Nasa reported that climate change is intensifying wildfire conditions, noting that the frequency of the most extreme wildfires had more than doubled over the past two decades. While some of this is driven by natural weather variability, human-induced warming is clearly playing a major role. Decades of rising temperatures combined with longer and more severe droughts have created ideal conditions for wildfires to ignite and spread.

This year, another brutal Mediterranean wildfire season is unfolding right before our eyes, with numerous active wildfire fronts across the region. As of July 22 2025, 237,153 hectares have burned in the EU – an increase of nearly 78% from the same period last year. The number of fires rose by about 45%, and CO₂ emissions increased by 23% compared to 2024. These are terrifying statistics.

Climate phenomena are closely interconnected

The fires themselves are bad enough. But they’re also closely connected to other climate-related extremes, including floods.

Natural hazards often trigger chain reactions, turning one disaster into many. In the case of floods, wildfires play a big role both through weather patterns and how the land responds to rain.

On the weather side, higher temperatures lead to more extreme rainfall, as warmer air can hold more moisture and fuels stronger storms. Intense wildfires can sometimes get so hot they generate their own weather systems, like pyrocumulus clouds – towering storm clouds formed by heat, smoke and water vapour. These clouds can spark sudden, localised storms during or shortly after the fire.

The damage doesn’t end when the flames die down. Satellite data shows that burned land can remain up to 10°C hotter for nearly a year, due to lost vegetation and damaged soil.

As the world warms, the atmosphere is able to hold about 7% more moisture for every extra degree. Recent temperatures of 40°C or more in Greece suggest a capacity for more downpours and more flooding.

Wildfires also make the land itself more vulnerable to flooding. Burnt areas respond much faster to rain, as there is less vegetation to slow down the water. Wildfires also change the soil structure, often making it water-repellent. This means more water runs off the surface, erosion increases, and it takes less rain to trigger a flood.

Under these conditions, a storm expected once every ten years can cause the sort of catastrophic flooding expected only every 100 to 200 years. Water moves much faster across scorched landscapes without plants to slow it down. Wildfires also leave behind a lot of debris, which can be swept up by fast-moving floodwaters.

While EU-wide data on post-wildfire flood risk is still limited, various case studies from southern Europe offer strong evidence of the connection. In Spain’s Ebro River Basin, for example, research found that if emissions remain high and climate policy is limited, wildfires will increase the probability of high flood risk by 10%.

Nature’s ability to regenerate is nothing short of magical, but recovering from a wildfire takes time. Burnt soil takes years to return to normal and, during that time, the risks of extreme rainfall are higher. Beyond the impact of wildfires on soil and water, it is important not to overlook the devastating loss of plant and animal species or even entire ecosystems, making the natural world less biodiverse and resilient.

To reduce the frequency and severity of extreme events, we must focus on repairing climate damage. This means moving beyond isolated perspectives and adopting a multi-hazard approach that recognises how disasters are connected.

Flooding after wildfires is just one example of how one crisis can trigger another. We need to recognise these cascading risks and focus on long-term resilience over short-term fixes.

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Ioanna Stamataki, Senior Lecturer in Hydraulics and Water Engineering, University of Greenwich

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When President Donald Trump announced in early 2025 that he was withdrawing the U.S. from the Paris climate agreement for the second time, it triggered fears that the move would undermine global efforts to slow climate change and diminish America’s global influence.

A big question hung in the air: Who would step into the leadership vacuum?

I study the dynamics of global environmental politics, including through the United Nations climate negotiations. While it’s still too early to fully assess the long-term impact of the United States’ political shift when it comes to global cooperation on climate change, there are signs that a new set of leaders is rising to the occasion.

World responds to another US withdrawal

The U.S. first committed to the Paris Agreement in a joint announcement by President Barack Obama and China’s Xi Jinping in 2015. At the time, the U.S. agreed to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions 26% to 28% below 2005 levels by 2025 and pledged financial support to help developing countries adapt to climate risks and embrace renewable energy.

Some people praised the U.S. engagement, while others criticized the original commitment as too weak. Since then, the U.S. has cut emissions by 17.2% below 2005 levels – missing the goal, in part because its efforts have been stymied along the way.

Just two years after the landmark Paris Agreement, Trump stood in the Rose Garden in 2017 and announced he was withdrawing the U.S. from the treaty, citing concerns that jobs would be lost, that meeting the goals would be an economic burden, and that it wouldn’t be fair because China, the world’s largest emitter today, wasn’t projected to start reducing its emissions for several years.

Scientists and some politicians and business leaders were quick to criticize the decision, calling it “shortsighted” and “reckless.” Some feared that the Paris Agreement, signed by almost every country, would fall apart.

But it did not.

In the United States, businesses such as Apple, Google, Microsoft and Tesla made their own pledges to meet the Paris Agreement goals.

Hawaii passed legislation to become the first state to align with the agreement. A coalition of U.S. cities and states banded together to form the United States Climate Alliance to keep working to slow climate change.

Globally, leaders from Italy, Germany and France rebutted Trump’s assertion that the Paris Agreement could be renegotiated. Others from Japan, Canada, Australia and New Zealand doubled down on their own support of the global climate accord. In 2020, President Joe Biden brought the U.S. back into the agreement.

Now, with Trump pulling the U.S. out again – and taking steps to eliminate U.S. climate policies, boost fossil fuels and slow the growth of clean energy at home – other countries are stepping up.

On July 24, 2025, China and the European Union issued a joint statement vowing to strengthen their climate targets and meet them. They alluded to the U.S., referring to “the fluid and turbulent international situation today” in saying that “the major economies … must step up efforts to address climate change.”

In some respects, this is a strength of the Paris Agreement – it is a legally nonbinding agreement based on what each country decides to commit to. Its flexibility keeps it alive, as the withdrawal of a single member does not trigger immediate sanctions, nor does it render the actions of others obsolete.

The agreement survived the first U.S. withdrawal, and so far, all signs point to it surviving the second one.

Who’s filling the leadership vacuum

From what I’ve seen in international climate meetings and my team’s research, it appears that most countries are moving forward.

One bloc emerging as a powerful voice in negotiations is the Like-Minded Group of Developing Countries – a group of low- and middle-income countries that includes China, India, Bolivia and Venezuela. Driven by economic development concerns, these countries are pressuring the developed world to meet its commitments to both cut emissions and provide financial aid to poorer countries.

China, motivated by economic and political factors, seems to be happily filling the climate power vacuum created by the U.S. exit.

In 2017, China voiced disappointment over the first U.S. withdrawal. It maintained its climate commitments and pledged to contribute more in climate finance to other developing countries than the U.S. had committed to – US$3.1 billion compared with $3 billion.

This time around, China is using leadership on climate change in ways that fit its broader strategy of gaining influence and economic power by supporting economic growth and cooperation in developing countries. Through its Belt and Road Initiative, China has scaled up renewable energy exports and development in other countries, such as investing in solar power in Egypt and wind energy development in Ethiopia.

While China is still the world’s largest coal consumer, it has aggressively pursued investments in renewable energy at home, including solar, wind and electrification. In 2024, about half the renewable energy capacity built worldwide was in China.

While it missed the deadline to submit its climate pledge due this year, China has a goal of peaking its emissions before 2030 and then dropping to net-zero emissions by 2060. It is continuing major investments in renewable energy, both for its own use and for export. The U.S. government, in contrast, is cutting its support for wind and solar power. China also just expanded its carbon market to encourage emissions cuts in the cement, steel and aluminum sectors.

The British government has also ratcheted up its climate commitments as it seeks to become a clean energy superpower. In 2025, it pledged to cut emissions 77% by 2035 compared with 1990 levels. Its new pledge is also more transparent and specific than in the past, with details on how specific sectors, such as power, transportation, construction and agriculture, will cut emissions. And it contains stronger commitments to provide funding to help developing countries grow more sustainably.

In terms of corporate leadership, while many American businesses are being quieter about their efforts, in order to avoid sparking the ire of the Trump administration, most appear to be continuing on a green path – despite the lack of federal support and diminished rules.

USA Today and Statista’s “America’s Climate Leader List” includes about 500 large companies that have reduced their carbon intensity – carbon emissions divided by revenue – by 3% from the previous year. The data shows that the list is growing, up from about 400 in 2023.

What to watch at the 2025 climate talks

The Paris Agreement isn’t going anywhere. Given the agreement’s design, with each country voluntarily setting its own goals, the U.S. never had the power to drive it into obsolescence.

The question is if developed and developing country leaders alike can navigate two pressing needs – economic growth and ecological sustainability – without compromising their leadership on climate change.

This year’s U.N. climate conference in Brazil, COP30, will show how countries intend to move forward and, importantly, who will lead the way.

Research assistant Emerson Damiano, a recent graduate in environmental studies at USC, contributed to this article.

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

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This year, Australia has experienced record-breaking floods, tropical cyclones, heatwaves on land and in the ocean, drought, coral bleaching, coastal erosion and devastating algal blooms. Over the past five years, insured losses from extreme events have risen to A$4.5 billion annually – more than double the 30-year average.

But even as damage from climate change intensifies, political change overseas is threatening Australia’s ability to track what’s happening now, and predict what will happen next.

The United States has historically been a world leader in earth observation systems and freely sharing the gathered data. Sharing of data, expertise and resources between scientists in the US and Australia makes possible the high-quality weather, climate and ocean monitoring and forecasting we rely on.

But this is no longer guaranteed. Under the Trump administration, key US scientific institutions and monitoring programs are facing deep cuts. These cuts aren’t just cosmetic – they will end essential data gathering. Australia has long relied on these data sources. When they dry up, it will make it much harder for scientists to look ahead.

Australian leaders should look for ways to boost local earth monitoring capabilities where possible and partner with other large scientific organisations outside the US.

What is at risk?

Forecasting weather and climate isn’t simple. To produce accurate forecasts, scientists rely on earth observation systems which monitor changes to Earth’s land, atmosphere, ocean and ice. Much of this vital data is gathered by satellites, augmented by ocean data from thousands of robotic ARGO floats which capture data on ocean temperatures and salinity. Using this data to model the complexity of the Earth system requires research expertise and supercomputers.

This year, the US government has announced sweeping cuts which could significantly degrade earth monitoring data gathering and availability.

In March 2025, the administration culled around 1,000 positions at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).

Two months later, cuts were announced for NASA, including their Earth observation missions and to the National Science Foundation, with a proposed major reduction to Antarctic observations and research.

In June, still deeper cuts were proposed for NOAA. These would see the agency’s Ocean and Atmospheric Research section dismantled and parts moved to the National Weather Service and the National Oceans Service. If these cuts are approved, they would cut NOAA funding by about 25%.

The data and modelling capabilities at risk include:

• Restricted use of data from US defence force weather satellites from July 31 onward. Australia uses this data to monitor weather, climate and oceans. The data has also been used for Australian forecast models.

• Funding cut to the Cooperative Institute for Modeling the Earth System. This will affect the Global Fluid Dynamics Laboratory, which produces key components of weather and climate models used by Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology and CSIRO.

• The Pacific Marine Environment Laboratory is scheduled to be closed. Australia has used this lab’s data to declare every El Niño and La Niña for the past 30 years.

• Planned shutdown of the Global Monitoring Laboratory, including the closure of Hawaii’s Mauna Loa Observatory and Antarctic air monitoring. This will increase Australia’s dependence on its own atmospheric monitoring site at Cape Grim in Tasmania.

• Funding cuts for ARGO floats and ocean drifting buoys. Until now, the US has funded more than half of the ARGO robotic floats active in the oceans. These floats produce data crucial to Australia’s weather and seasonal forecasts.

• Plans to end the NOAA Cooperative Institutes, which include collaborations with Australian researchers.. These cuts have not yet been confirmed. If approved, they will massively disrupt global advances in weather, climate and ocean knowledge.

• Planned cuts to Antarctic ice and atmosphere monitoring, which would affect collaborative Antarctic research and operations.

• US withdrawal from the Intergovernmental Panel for Climate Change and UNESCO (including the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission), and uncertainty around future support for the United Nations and its World Meteorological Organization (WMO). At present, the US is the WMO’s largest funder

Maintaining Australian capabilities is not a given

Making accurate forecasts requires high-quality global observations.

Forecasts will inevitably get worse if data sources are restricted or stopped. During extreme weather events, this will pose real risk to life.

The loss of experienced US staff could also lead to a stagnation in forecasting advances, especially on extreme weather. Many Australian scientists working on forecast improvements collaborate with US colleagues.

If some or all of these cuts take place, the flow-on effects for Australian meteorology and climate science will be substantial.

In response, Australian leaders should:

1. Assess the immediate risks to Australia’s weather, climate and ocean capabilities from these changes in the US.

2. Assess where Australia can best lift national capabilities in research, modelling and observations.

3. Expand data sharing and collaboration with China, Japan, South Korea, India and the European Union. Each of these has established satellite observing programs which cover Australia.

4. Strengthen investment and partnership in international programs such as as the WMO, the EU’s Copernicus Program, the World Climate Research Program and the EU Horizon program.

The future

America’s sweeping cuts to science will have large ripple effects. Losing these capabilities and expertise will be a significant setback for researchers in the US, Australia and worldwide. The cuts come at a time when extreme weather and damage from climate change is intensifying. Early warnings save lives.

To meet the ever more urgent need for reliable forecasting and modelling, Australia can no longer rely on US data and expertise. It’s time to boost local capabilities and expand vital alliances.

Peter May (Monash University), Peter Steinle (Melbourne University) and Tony Worby (University of Western Australia) contributed to this article. Jas Chambers and Rob Vertessy (Melbourne University) provided initial inspiration

Andrew B. Watkins, Associate Research Scientist in Climate Science, Monash University; Anthony Rea, Industry Adjunct Associate Professor in Meteorology, RMIT University; Matthew England, Scientia Professor in Oceanography and Deputy Director of the ARC Australian Centre for Excellence in Antarctic Science, UNSW Sydney; Scott Power, Adjunct Professor in Climate Science, Monash University; Sue Barrell, Chair of Australian National University's Institute for Space and Council Member, University of Technology Sydney, and Tas van Ommen, Adjunct Professor in Climate Science, University of Tasmania

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