Earth is crossing the threshold of 1.5°C of global warming, according to two major global studies which together suggest the planet’s climate has likely entered a frightening new phase.

Under the landmark 2015 Paris Agreement on climate change, humanity is seeking to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and keep planetary heating to no more than 1.5°C above the pre-industrial average. In 2024, temperatures on Earth surpassed that limit.

This was not enough to declare the Paris threshold had been crossed, because the temperature goals under the agreement are measured over several decades, rather than short excursions over the 1.5°C mark.

But the two papers just released use a different measure. Both examined historical climate data to determine whether very hot years in the recent past were a sign that a future, long-term warming threshold would be breached.

The answer, alarmingly, was yes. The researchers say the record-hot 2024 indicates Earth is passing the 1.5°C limit, beyond which scientists predict catastrophic harm to the natural systems that support life on Earth.

2024: the first year of many above 1.5°C

Climate organisations around the world agree last year was the hottest on record. The global average temperature in 2024 was about 1.6°C above the average temperatures in the late-19th century, before humans started burning fossil fuels at large scale.

Earth has also recently experienced individual days and months above the 1.5°C warming mark.

But the global temperature varies from one year to the next. For example, the 2024 temperature spike, while in large part due to climate change, was also driven by a natural El Niño pattern early in the year. That pattern has dissipated for now, and 2025 is forecast to be a little cooler.

These year-to-year fluctuations mean climate scientists don’t view a single year exceeding the 1.5°C mark as a failure to meet the Paris Agreement.

However, the new studies published today in Nature Climate Change suggest even a single month or year at 1.5°C global warming may signify Earth is entering a long-term breach of that vital threshold.

What the studies found

The studies were conducted independently by researchers in Europe and Canada. They tackled the same basic question: is a year above 1.5°C global warming a warning sign that we’re already crossing the Paris Agreement threshold?

Both studies used observations and climate model simulations to address this question, with slightly different approaches.

In the European paper, the researchers looked at historical warming trends. They found when Earth’s average temperature reached a certain threshold, the following 20-year period also reached that threshold.

This pattern suggests that, given Earth reached 1.5°C warming last year, we may have entered a 20-year warming period when average temperatures will also reach 1.5°C.

The Canadian paper involved month-to-month data. June last year was the 12th consecutive month of temperatures above the 1.5°C warming level. The researcher found 12 consecutive months above a climate threshold indicates the threshold will be reached over the long term.

Both studies also demonstrate that even if stringent emissions reduction begins now, Earth is still likely to be crossing the 1.5°C threshold.

Heading in the wrong direction

Given these findings, what humanity does next is crucial.

For decades, climate scientists have warned burning fossil fuels for energy releases carbon dioxide and other gases that are warming the planet.

But humanity’s greenhouse gas emissions have continued to increase. Since the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change released its first report in 1990, the world’s annual carbon dioxide emissions have risen about 50%.

Put simply, we are not even moving in the right direction, let alone at the required pace.

The science shows greenhouse gas emissions must reach net-zero to end global warming. Even then, some aspects of the climate will continue to change for many centuries, because some regional warming, especially in the oceans, is already locked in and irreversible.

If Earth has indeed already crossed the 1.5°C mark, and humanity wants to get below the threshold again, we will need to cool the planet by reaching “net-negative emissions” – removing more greenhouse gases from the atmosphere than we emit. This would be a highly challenging task.

Feeling the heat

The damaging effects of climate change are already being felt across the globe. The harm will be even worse for future generations.

Australia has already experienced 1.5°C of warming, on average, since 1910.

Our unique ecosystems, such as the Great Barrier Reef, are already suffering because of this warming. Our oceans are hotter and seas are rising, hammering our coastlines and threatening marine life.

Bushfires and extreme weather, especially heatwaves, are becoming more frequent and severe. This puts pressure on nature, society and our economy.

But amid the gloom, there are signs of progress.

Across the world, renewable electricity generation is growing. Fossil fuel use has dropped in many countries. Technological developments are slowing emissions growth in polluting industries such as aviation and construction.

But clearly, there is much more work to be done.

Humanity can turn the tide

These studies are a sobering reminder of how far short humanity is falling in tackling climate change.

They show we must urgently adapt to further global warming. Among the suite of changes needed, richer nations must support the poorer countries set to bear the most severe climate harms. While some progress has been made in this regard, far more is needed.

A major shift is also needed to decarbonise our societies and economies. There is still room for hope, but we must not delay action. Otherwise, humanity will keep warming the planet and causing further damage.

Andrew King, Associate Professor in Climate Science, ARC Centre of Excellence for 21st Century Weather, The University of Melbourne and Liam Cassidy, PhD Candidate, The University of Melbourne

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

Water is now a contested resource around the world. Nowhere is this more evident than in the fight playing out over the Northern Territory’s Roper River – one of the last free-flowing rivers in Australia, nurtured by the enduring presence of First Nations custodians.

The territory government recently doubled water extraction allowances from the aquifer that feeds the Roper River, making billions of litres available to irrigators, for free. The change risks permanent damage not just to the river but to world-famous springs and sacred sites fundamentally important to Traditional Owners.

Australia has a very poor track record on maintaining healthy river systems, and on respecting First Nations rights to access and use water.

The Roper River represents a chance to change course on decades of water policy failure. It also shows we must transform how Australia’s water is valued, who uses it, and who decides how vital rivers should be managed.

What’s happening on the Roper River?

The Roper River runs east for 400 kilometres from the Katherine region to the Gulf of Carpentaria.

First Nations people comprise 73% of the population in the Roper River area. Amid socioeconomic challenges, Country sustains them as it has done for 65,000 years. It is integral to maintaining cultural knowledge, as well as ceremonial practices, environmental care and traditional food systems. Traditional Owners’ rights are recognised through Aboriginal freehold land and native title across the area.

Irrigated crops including melons, mangoes and cotton are grown over a small part of the river catchment.

In a string of recent decisions – mainly the designation of regional “water allocation plans” – the territory government has vastly increased potential extraction from underground aquifers. This could allow agriculture and other industries to expand.

The Mataranka plan, which applies to the Roper River, now allows irrigators to double the amount of water extracted from an underground aquifer crucial to the river’s dry-season flows. These new extraction amounts would fill 25,000 Olympic swimming pools a year. The groundwater also feeds thermal springs at Mataranka – a sacred site and tourism drawcard.

The decision came despite staunch opposition from Traditional Owners. As Northern Land Council chair Matthew Ryan told SBS:

Both the previous and the current NT Government have ignored the voices of Traditional Owners, who have repeatedly said that the health and viability of the Roper River and the springs at Mataranka are at great risk.

Water is life. It is our most valuable resource and Traditional Owners have an obligation to take care of the land and areas of cultural significance.

The Baaka: a sad story of degradation

Sadly, this story is not new to Australia. We need only look to the Baaka (Lower Darling River) in New South Wales as a cautionary tale.

More than a century of water extraction has left the river and its wetlands degraded. This was demonstrated in 2023 when up to 30 million fish died due to low levels of dissolved oxygen, caused by, among other factors, too much water extracted upstream.

The ecological damage has harmed the health and wellbeing of river communities – especially Traditional Owners such as the Barkandji people, who have long relied on the river for sustenance.

The problem is getting worse. As research late last year showed, an investment of more than A$8 billion to date has failed to prevent a stark decline in the health of the Murray-Darling Basin river system.

Martuwarra: another river in peril

Martuwarra, or the Fitzroy River, runs through Western Australia’s Kimberley region. It is the state’s largest Aboriginal Cultural Heritage site and is on the national heritage list. Evidence indicates human occupation along the Martuwarra for at least 35,000  years.

Traditional knowledge indicates climate change – among other harms – is threatening the Martuwarra. Ecological and ground water systems are drying up, making traditional food and medicine harder to find.

This harms Indigenous custodians reliant on the Martuwarra for their lifeways and livelihoods.

But there is hope. The Indigenous-led Martuwarra Fitzroy River Council has united West Kimberley people, First Peoples and others, along with stakeholders. It seeks to foster joint decision-making on planning and management to take full account of the social, cultural, spiritual and environmental impacts of water allocation across the catchment.

This world-leading example shows what can be achieved when Traditional Owners and their partners unite to defend nature, water and Country as sources of life, not just resources to be exploited.

Finding answers

Many of the world’s largest rivers are suffering from neglect and destruction. Last month, on the world’s inaugural Water Justice Day, people around the globe fighting for water justice came together in Canberra.

Community members, researchers, Elders, advocates and decision-makers gathered to share stories from Argentina, Australia, India, Kenya, Brazil and Mexico.

Each tale described people working together to push back against water injustice, whether it involved unequal access, theft, dispossession, pollution or post-truth claims about water.

Participants also watched the premiere screening of the short film EveryOne, EveryWhere, EveryWhen. It highlights what is at stake for Australia’s living rivers – Baaka, Roper and Martuwarra – and tells of the struggle to bring justice to these rivers and their people.

A fork in the river

Clearly, the time for water reform is now. So what does this mean in practice?

First, the precautionary principle must be deeply embedded in all government decisions. This means the potential for serious environmental damage must be properly considered, and actions taken to avoid it, even when science is not certain.

Second, permission from First Peoples should be obtained for any activity affecting their land or waters, following the principles of “free, prior and informed consent”.

And finally, both Indigenous knowledge and Western science must be brought together to plan, monitor and regulate all water extraction, to ensure our precious rivers are managed for both the present and the future.

Australians face a stark choice.

We can keep gifting valuable water resources to powerful commercial interests, while ignoring the warning signs our rivers are sending.

Or we can follow First Nations leaders and listen to what Country is telling us: to safeguard water for everyone, including non-human kin, to secure a liveable and thriving future for all.

In response to issues raised in this article, the NT’s Minister for Lands, Planning and Environment, Joshua Burgoyne, said the Mataranka water allocation plan provides certainty to the environment and the community and supports regional economic development.

He said the plan was “precautionary, evidenced based, and developed with considered involvement from local community representatives” including Traditional Owners, and preserves more than 90% of dry season flows to the Roper River.

Quentin Grafton, Australian Laureate Professor of Economics, Crawford School of Public Policy, Australian National University; Anne Poelina, Professor and Chair Indigenous Knowledges & Senior Research Fellow Nulungu Institute of Research University of Notre Dame & Chair Martuwarra Fitzroy River Council, University of Notre Dame Australia, and Sarah Milne, Associate Professor, Head of Resources, Environment and Development Department, Crawford School of Public Policy, Australian National University

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

Golf courses are sometimes seen as harmful to the environment. According to the popular notion, the grass soaks up too much water, is cut too short and sprayed with dangerous chemicals. But in reality, golf courses can act as safe havens for native wildlife, especially in cities.

Cities are home to a wide range of plants and animals, including 30% of Australia’s threatened species. But ongoing population growth and urban development threatens this biodiversity. We’re still losing green space and tree cover, leaving less habitat and resources for native birds, bats, possums, lizards, frogs, beetles and butterflies.

This is where golf courses can play a role. Australia is one of the golfing capitals of the world, with more than 1,800 active courses. These courses represent large, continuous green spaces often with native vegetation, mature trees, lakes and wetlands. Given their ubiquity, golf courses could help conserve urban biodiversity.

This week, the annual LIV Golf tournament returns to Grange Golf Club in South Australia. Grange is known for its commitment to natural habitats and wildlife. So what makes a golf course good or bad for biodiversity?

The gold in the rough

From a biodiversity perspective, the most valuable part of a golf course is the area all golfers seek to avoid: the “rough”. These spaces between the green, manicured fairways can include remnant or restored bushland with dense leaf litter, long grass, thick shrubs, and both living and dead trees. This vegetation is often native and features a diversity of plant species.

Collectively, this can provide a range of resources for native wildlife including food, shelter and tree hollows for nesting. In Melbourne, research found golf courses provided better habitat for wildlife than nearby suburban streets and parklands. They were also home to a greater diversity of birds and bats.

Golf courses also have relatively little human activity. Golfers are only allowed on the course during certain hours of the day. Courses usually do not allow dogs. And there are few cars and roads, so there’s less noise and light pollution than in other urban areas. This makes golf courses pretty attractive to native animals looking for somewhere to live.

Many golf courses are heavily irrigated to ensure high-quality playing surfaces. This ample water supply (typically from recycled sources) is fantastic for wildlife, especially in warmer and drier climates. Birds are known to flock to water resources during drought – a behaviour likely to become more common under future climate change.

Much-feared water hazards for golfers, such as lakes and ponds, actually provide valuable habitat for aquatic birds, frogs, fish and insects. These water bodies are particularly important in cities where wetlands are regularly cleared to make way for new houses, shops and roads.

Importantly, once constructed, golf courses are rarely threatened by clearing or development. In Perth, research found golf courses helped protect native vegetation as development spread through surrounding suburbs. The mere existence of a golf course can help secure a home for native species for many decades to come.

Golf courses are not a perfect solution

However, not all land on golf courses is valuable for wildlife. Large open areas such as fairways typically only benefit species adapted to life in cities such as the aggressive noisy miner.

Golf courses can also harbour pests such as cane toads, rats and common mynas. These undesirable species may pose a threat to native biodiversity.

The use of pesticides and fertilisers can affect soil quality, contaminate water sources, and make frogs sick.

Frequent lawn mowing can reduce insect diversity, particularly among bugs, bees, wasps and ants. This is likely to have flow-on effects for animals that feed on insects, and for flowering plants that depend on insects for pollination and seed dispersal.

Some urban golf courses may also be physically isolated from other suitable habitats, making it hard for wildlife to safely move around to find food, water and a mate. To get in and out, animals may need to cross busy roads or move through dangerous areas where they are exposed to predators such as cats and foxes.

So, how can we best manage golf courses for biodiversity?

In an ideal world, golf courses should only be constructed in developed areas. That’s because constructing courses in natural, undisturbed areas is likely to involve clearing vegetation for fairways, greens, car parks and club houses.

As a result, the biodiversity value of a golf course increases the closer it is to a city.

Existing golf courses can help protect biodiversity by retaining and restoring diverse bushland patches in the rough. Important conservation areas can also be fenced off and deemed “out of bounds” to golfers.

The use of harsh chemicals should be reduced to minimise risks to soil, water and wildlife. “Organic golf courses” overseas are already making progress in this space, but they are far from mainstream.

Finally, efforts must be made to connect golf courses to nearby parks and reserves through wildlife corridors, road underpasses, and special crossing structures such as rope bridges. This will enable animals to safely move around the urban landscape.

Many golf courses now have biodiversity management plans and are working hard to make their practices more sustainable. In other cases, disused golf courses are even being converted into conservation reserves, such as the Yalukit Willam Nature Reserve in Elsternwick, Melbourne.

While golf courses cannot replace natural habitats, they can provide a useful alternative for many species that call our cities home.

Jacinta Humphrey, Research Fellow in Urban Ecology, RMIT University

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

Fire broke out in the Grampians National Park (Gariwerd) in December and raged for weeks. Then lightning strikes ignited fresh blazes late last month, which merged to form a mega-fire that’s not out yet.

This 168,000-hectare reserve, about 200km west of Melbourne, is a significant ecological and cultural landscape. Its ancient sandstone mountains and valleys maintain eucalypt woodlands and heathlands that support a rich diversity of plants and animals, making it a key conservation asset in Victoria.

Since 2008, our team has been monitoring mammal species annually in the Grampians. This long-term effort has allowed us to learn how species respond to wildfires, droughts and floods.

We commenced our research just two years after big fires swept through the park in 2006. We also witnessed the changes following more fires in 2013 and 2014.

So while many animals have lost much of their habitat to fire this summer, we know recovery is possible. But some may need help to cope with challenges ahead.

A terrible summer as multiple fires rage

The massive December wildfire in the park’s east burned for weeks, forcing evacuations in towns such as Halls Gap, and upending Christmas for many residents. By early January, that fire was contained – but only after burning about 76,000 hectares of the park and surrounding areas.

Then, on January 27, lightning strikes in the west ignited four fires that eventually merged, burning through the entire Victoria Range and some rural properties.

The full extent of damage is not yet known. But it’s already clear the fires have been devastating. They burned much of the same areas affected by the 2006 wildfires in the east and 2013 fires in the west, as well as long-unburned areas.

Combined, fires this big have not been observed in this landscape in the past 50 years.

What is the extent of the damage to the environment?

It’s difficult to determine how much of the park has burned so far this summer, because the shaded area on the state emergency map extends beyond the park’s borders. But a rough, conservative estimate suggests at least 110,000 hectares of the 168,000 hectare park has burned since December. This is a deeply troubling scenario.

The Grampians is an isolated landscape – an “island” of native vegetation surrounded by a sea of agricultural land. So animals can’t easily migrate from other parts of Victoria to repopulate the area. Recovery largely depends on the landscape’s own ability to regenerate after fire.

Populations of small carnivorous marsupials often peak in areas that haven’t burned for 10–20 years.

So for many species, most of their habitat has been lost to fire. This includes endangered mammals such as the smoky mouse, heath mouse, brush-tailed rock wallaby, southern brown bandicoot and long-nosed potoroo. These species in particular will need considerable help for the next few years.

Recovery will happen over time

Many animals likely perished in the blaze and more will die in coming months.

Unfortunately, most native small mammals struggle to survive in freshly burned habitats. Fire depletes their food sources and strips away the vegetation that provides cover and protection from predators.

But there is hope. Our previous research shows some animals do survive. These survivors can eventually breed, sparking the slow recovery of the landscape and helping reestablish populations over the next decade or two.

The rate of recovery will be driven by rainfall. So if drought hits, recovery will be slow. But if we have wet years, recovery will accelerate.

Many native plants in the national park are more resilient to fire than the animals, so recover faster. Native heathland plants such as Australian grass trees have evolved in the presence of fire and often reshoot pretty quickly. Seeds also germinate after fires. But it takes a few years after the plants come back before many native animal species fully recover.

So the first few years after fire are usually tough for native species. From a conservation perspective this is manageable in a patchy landscape — where some areas burned recently and others haven’t burned in decades. However, the current situation is different. This year, most of the landscape burned and almost no long-unburned habitat remains.

What are the threats?

The main challenge to recovery in the coming months and years is introduced species, especially foxes and cats. Foxes are particularly problematic, because they are drawn to recently burned areas where hunting is much easier.

To give native mammals a fighting chance, it is essential to ramp up fox management efforts for at least the next year. This will allow surviving native mammals time to recover and for vegetation to regrow, providing necessary cover.

In addition, Parks Victoria and the Victorian Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action are erecting artificial shelters in ecologically sensitive areas. These provide temporary refuge for animals, giving them a better chance to evade predators.

What about the role of climate change?

In recent decades, the Grampians have experienced a general decline in rainfall, coupled with a significant increase in wildfires since the early 2000s.

We’re now witnessing a cycle where large fires are followed by droughts, and then wet periods such as the recent La Niña years.

During these wetter periods, vegetation flourishes. But when the inevitable dry spells return, that vegetation dries out, creating ideal conditions for wildfires. So the good years, while offering relief to the landscape, are setting the stage for the next fire. This leaves the landscape constantly vulnerable.

What can people do to help?

Fire is a natural process – albeit one increasingly driven by climate change. As climate change worsens, landscapes like the Grampians will face more frequent, large wildfires.

We should approach our natural landscapes with care, acknowledging climate change is fundamentally altering how these ecosystems function.

The best action we can take is to pressure governments to seriously address climate change and implement meaningful solutions.

John White, Associate Professor in Wildlife and Conservation Biology, Deakin University

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

A Victorian government decision to allow dingo culling in the state’s east until 2028 has reignited debate over what has been dubbed Australia’s most controversial animal.

Animals Australia, an animal welfare group, has filed proceedings in the Supreme Court of Victoria, challenging the decision. The case is due to be heard this year.

Announcing the legal action, the group said the eradication program targeted a unique native animal at risk of extinction, and ignored pleas from Traditional Owners who “treasure the dingo as a totem species”.

The controversy raises a few thorny questions. Are dingoes an important native species or an agricultural pest? And what is the right balance between protecting the species, and protecting the interests of farmers?

What’s this all about?

Dingoes are listed as vulnerable in Victoria. This means the species faces a high risk of extinction in the wild over the medium term.

Dingoes are also protected under Victoria’s Wildlife Act – unless a special order is made to declare them “unprotected”. To date, these unprotection orders have been made when authorities deem it necessary to prevent dingoes from killing livestock.

An unprotection order means a person can legally kill dingoes in certain areas of private and public land, by trapping, poisoning or shooting.

Since around 2010, a succession of unprotection orders have allowed dingoes to be killed in various parts of Victoria. The unprotection order now being challenged came into effect on October 1 last year and will continue until January 1, 2028.

Announcing the decision, Victoria’s Environment Minister Steve Dimopoulos says the government was:

striking the right balance between protecting our vulnerable dingo populations while giving farmers the ability to protect their livestock, and we will regularly engage to ensure settings continue to achieve this balance.

Dingoes are not ‘wild dogs’

DNA studies suggest dingoes have been in Australia for between 4,600 and 18,000 years. Often wrongly described as “wild dogs”, they are actually descended from south Asian wolves.

Adding to the complications, it can be hard to distinguish between a wild dog and a dingo without DNA testing.

Dingoes were once widespread across Victoria but are now extinct across most of the state, save for two populations in the state’s north and east.

Conservationists and scientists fear the extended order in eastern Victoria may push dingoes to local extinction

The experience in north-west Victoria offers a cautionary tale. There, under a dingo unprotection order, the population dropped to as few as 40 individuals. The local dingo population was deemed “critically low and at risk of extinction”, prompting the government to reinstate dingo protections.

In eastern Victoria, the dingo population is estimated at between 2,640 and 8,800.

However in September last year, before the unprotection order in eastern Victoria came into effect, Nationals Member for Gippsland, Tim Bull, claimed 1,500 dingoes were already being killed in the region each year by farmers and others.

If those figures are correct, it suggests extending the unprotection order until 2028 will devastate the dingo population in eastern Victoria.

A decline in dingo populations is not just a concern for the species itself – it will have knock-on effects.

Dingoes are apex predators and research shows they are central to how ecosystems function. They can help control introduced predators such as foxes, feral cats and rabbits. This benefits native animals and plants.

Is the balance right?

Given the risks to dingo populations and the broader environment, it’s pertinent to ask if the government decision swings too far towards protecting agricultural production.

One report suggests within Victoria’s 16 “wild dog management zones” in the 2022–23 financial year, there were more than 1.7 million head of livestock. Of these, 1,455 were confirmed killed by dingoes. While understandably of concern to farmers, this nonetheless represents a tiny proportion of total stock numbers.

The number of sheep killed by dingoes is also only a fraction of the 14.6 million currently farmed in Victoria. Sheep are not at risk of extinction.

These numbers suggest the government has not struck the right balance between protecting livestock and ensuring dingo populations survive.

Considering the rights of Traditional Owners

When weighing up an unprotection order, a minister must consider how it affects the rights of Traditional Owners.

In 2023, when deliberating over whether to make an unprotection order in eastern Victoria, the Victorian government stated that for Aboriginal people:

• dingoes are part of their living cultural heritage

• the loss of a dingo is akin to the loss of a family member

• the dingo helps maintain connection to Country

• some have a totemic and kinship relationship with the dingo.

The government said while the order would limit Aboriginal people’s rights, this was justified when taking other factors into account.

The court will decide

Animal protection group Animals Australia has filed proceedings in the Supreme Court of Victoria, challenging the lawfulness and validity of the unprotection order. Court documents are not yet publicly available.

Australia does not have a single and consistent animal welfare and protection regime. Instead, protections are fractured between the states. That is why the current challenge to dingo culling is limited to Victoria, even though culling takes place in other states. This illustrates the difficulty in using the law to protect animals at a national level.

This challenge is part of a broader push to redefine the relationship between humans and animals through what’s known as animal law. In recent years, animal advocates have used various aspects of the law to challenge the gassing of pigs before they are slaughtered, and recreational duck shooting.

The current case is an important test for how the law balances the needs of humans and animals – and in particular, how much harm is deemed “necessary” at law to protect commercial profit and livelihood.

Danielle Ireland-Piper, Associate Professor, ANU National Security College, Australian National University

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

Our cars sit unused most of the time. If you have an electric vehicle, you might leave it charging at home or work after driving it. But there’s another step you could take. If you have a bidirectional charger, you can set it to sell power back to the grid when demand is high.

Fewer than ten people across Australia actually do this, because the technology – known as Vehicle-to-Grid (V2G) – is very new. To date, it only works with a single car model (Nissan LEAF) and a single charger (Wallbox Quasar 1). We’ve estimated the number of users based on sales of this charger. The chargers are expensive and there’s a thicket of regulations to navigate.

But that could soon change. Last year, Climate Change Minister Chris Bowen announced new Australian standards and communications protocols for bidirectional chargers in a bid to make it mainstream. Cheaper EVs and bidirectional chargers will make this more appealing.

If it takes off, V2G could become extremely useful to the power grid as a way to release power as required and stabilise the grid against fluctuations.

This week, Australia’s renewable energy agency released a V2G roadmap, which notes widespread uptake could “materially reduce electricity costs for consumers and accelerate national emissions reduction”.

To understand why people are using the technology and the challenges to do so, we interviewed five early adopters from New South Wales and South Australia. Our findings are released today.

Setting up V2G isn’t easy

Our interviewees reported a long, complex journey to set up V2G. These early adopters had no playbook to follow, so the process was one of trial and error.

Some relied on professional networks or social media groups to gather information. They spent significant time and energy finding electricians, installers and charger manufacturers to set up their systems. Strata approvals were required. They also had to negotiate with power retailers and distributors.

Delays were common, especially when seeking approval from the energy distributor. Some interviewees reported delays of months to years.

Most interviewees had experience in a technical field such as engineering or technology. Some reported a significant learning curve, while others using new software from their retailer reported a smoother “set and forget” process.

So why do it? Our interviewees had several reasons, ranging from getting the most out of expensive assets (solar and the EV) to offsetting power bills entirely.

Four out of five interviewees reported making a small profit of about A$1,000 annually instead of a bill. Many wanted to be able to reduce dependence on the grid and reduce their environmental impact.

As one told us:

you originally think of it as a car you can also use to power your house. [But actually] it’s a house battery you can drive around.

Maximising savings

Typically, our interviewees plugged their car in at home during the day to charge from their rooftop solar. In the evenings when power prices peaked, they used an app to sell power back to the grid. This maximised their cost savings for charging the car battery and their earnings from the grid.

For instance, a V2G user was alerted by their energy retailer that power prices had spiked to over $20 per kilowatt hour – far above normal rates of 25–45 cents. They immediately set their car and home battery to sell power back to the grid. In two hours, they sold 28 kilowatt hours of power to the grid and made more than $560. As they told us: “I look forward to more such events.”

Our interviewees often monitored energy prices, solar output and car battery levels to optimise their output. To avoid their EV battery getting too low, they set a lower limit – say 30% of charge – after which their car would stop exporting power.

Is there a downside?

One of the main reasons people are sceptical of V2G is due to concern about accelerated degradation of the battery.

This is a common concern. But to date, there’s no consensus showing V2G shortens the battery life of EVs significantly. One recent study shows it increases degradation by 0.3% a year. But another showed V2G might actually extend battery life in some scenarios.

Last year, we surveyed more than 1,300 members of a motoring organisation about their view of V2G technology. We found battery warranty was a bigger concern than battery life. This is because most EV manufacturers other than Nissan don’t mention V2G in their battery warranties, leading drivers to believe they might void their warranty by using V2G.

Awareness of V2G technology is growing. The survey also found almost 40% of respondents were very or somewhat familiar with V2G, a jump from the 17% who reported familiarity in 2022. Among EV owners, almost 90% reported knowledge of the concept.

Moving beyond early adopters

For V2G to go mainstream, the process must be much simpler, cheaper and easier to set up.

To accelerate uptake, reliable, accessible information is essential.

Expanding government incentive programs to include bidirectional chargers would cut the upfront cost and make it more accessible.

Even within the EV supply chain, knowledge of V2G is limited. Car dealerships will need to know which models work with V2G.

Electricians may need specific training to install and maintain these chargers.

EVs are falling in price as manufacturers vie for market share and cheaper options become available. V2G capabilities might help boost sales for competing car companies.

As more motorists switch to EVs, interest in V2G will increase. While V2G can boost the appeal of EVs, there are others, such as Vehicle-to-Home (using your car to power your home during blackouts or to save money) and Vehicle-to-Load (using your EV to run power tools or appliances).

Each of these can help consumers get more value from the vehicles parked in driveways and garages.

Scott Dwyer, Research Director, Energy Futures, University of Technology Sydney; Jaime Comber, Senior Research Consultant in Energy Futures, University of Technology Sydney, and Kriti Nagrath, Research Principal in Energy Futures, University of Technology Sydney

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

Jumping spiders – one of the largest spider families – get their name from the extraordinary jumps they make to hunt prey, to navigate and also to evade predators.

Male jumping spiders also jump to escape from cannibalistic females and competing males. So they are under tremendous pressure to jump efficiently and rapidly.

We studied the jumping abilities of miniature male and female Australian peacock spiders. We found that the males – incredibly light creatures, weighing just 2 milligrams – have the highest acceleration among any known jumping spider.

Our study is the first to explore and identify differences in how male and female jumping spiders undertake their impressive jumps. It’s now published in the Journal of Experimental Biology.

Unique hydraulics

Jumping is an energetically “expensive” movement strategy. To perform it, animals have to launch themselves from a surface by coordinating the movement of numerous body parts.

Some invertebrates, like ants, jump with the help of their muscles. Others, like fleas, use energy stored in internal structures that are rapidly released to trigger a leap.

Jumping spiders are different – they use a unique semi-hydraulic system. They don’t have muscles to extend their legs and power the jumps. Instead, they extend their legs by increasing the pressure of the haemolymph (fluid analogous to blood in invertebrates) in their legs, which triggers the jump.

Peacock spiders are well known for the elaborate courtship display males carry out to court females. It has captured the attention of biologists and non-scientific audiences alike. The display includes extending and waving their third pair of legs and opening the colourful flap-like extensions on the abdomen.

The quantitative description of jumping movements, known as jump kinematics, has only been conducted for four of the 6,000+ jumping spider species known worldwide. On top of this, scientists have never investigated differences in jump dynamics in male and female spiders.

Because male and female peacock spiders differ strongly in size from each other, they present a unique opportunity to identify sex-specific differences in jump kinematics.

Spiders on campus

We studied the Australian splendid peacock spider (Maratus splendens) found both on the Macquarie University campus in Sydney and in the surrounding area.

The females weighed more than twice as much as males, and the heaviest female was 6.6 times heavier than the lightest male. We scanned male and female specimens using micro-computed tomography and carried out a 3D reconstruction to determine the centre of mass of each sex.

We then filmed the jumps of male and female spiders using a high-speed camera, and tracked the animals’ centre of mass during each jump. From this, we measured a suite of kinematic measures, including jump take-off angle, acceleration, and g-force.

We found that these lighter male peacock spiders have a distinct jump choreography and kinematics compared to the heavier females.

High, fast and steep

We discovered that the splendid peacock spiders accelerated at 127.8 m/s² – more than twice as fast as the previous highest known acceleration in jumping spiders.

This rapid acceleration may have evolved to escape from predators or to track and capture fast-moving prey in their natural environments.

Though the lighter males accelerated faster, after controlling for body mass we found that acceleration in males was slower compared to females. Males and females experienced accelerations equivalent to 13.03 times and 12.5 times the force of gravity, respectively.

Interestingly, the jumps of males were at a steeper angle than those of females, which is likely an adaptation to rapidly escape from females and other males.

A question that remained was which of the four pairs of legs powered this rapid jump. To figure this out, we tracked multiple joints on all of the spiders’ legs throughout the jump.

We found that the joint on the third pair of legs had an extremely acute angle before jumping, and rapidly changed to something like a straight angle after attaining maximum acceleration. Our results show that it’s the third pair of legs that propels the splendid peacock spider into its impressive jumps.

Ajay Narendra, Associate Professor of Insect Neuroethology, Macquarie University

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For a long time, it seemed refugee law had little relevance to people fleeing the impacts of climate change and disasters.

Nearly 30 years ago, the High Court of Australia, for instance, remarked that people fleeing a “natural disaster” or “natural catastrophes” could not be refugees.

Meanwhile, the Supreme Court of Canada had said “victims of natural disasters” couldn’t be refugees “even when the home state is unable to provide assistance”.

It was back in 2007 that I first started considering whether international refugee law could apply to people escaping the impacts of drought, floods or sea-level rise. At the time, I also thought refugee law had limited application. For a start, most people seeking to escape natural hazards move within their own country and don’t cross an international border. That fact alone makes refugee law inapplicable.

Refugee law defines a refugee as someone with a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of their race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership of a particular social group.

So one challenge was in classifying supposedly “natural” events as “persecution”, which requires an identifiable human actor.

It was also widely thought such events were indiscriminate and couldn’t target people on account of their race, religion or one of the other five grounds. This is partly why some advocates called for an overhaul of the Refugee Convention to protect so-called “climate refugees”.

However, we have learned a lot in the intervening years.

A new approach

It’s become clear the impacts of climate change and disasters interact with other social, economic and political drivers of displacement to create risks for people.

This is what some legal experts have called the “hazard-scape”.

And the impacts of climate change and disasters are not indiscriminate – they affect people in different ways. Factors such as age, gender, disability and health can intersect to create particular risk of persecution for particular individuals or communities.

For example, a person who is a member of a minority may find their government is withholding disaster relief from them. Or, climate or disaster impacts may end up exacerbating inter-communal conflicts, putting certain people at heightened risk of persecution.

Now, we have a much more nuanced understanding of things. Refugee law (and complementary protection under human rights law) do have a role to play in assessing the claims of people affected by climate change.

No such thing as a ‘climate refugee’ under the law

There isn’t a legal category of “climate refugee” – a popular label that has caused confusion. However, there are certainly people facing heightened risks because of the impacts of climate change or disasters. These impacts can generate or exacerbate a risk of persecution or other serious harm.

This means that when it comes to the law, we don’t need to reinvent the wheel.

Instead, by applying existing legal principles and approaches, it’s clear some people impacted by climate change already qualify for refugee status or complementary protection (under human rights law).

One instructive case, heard in New Zealand, involved a deaf and mute man from Tuvalu who was seeking to avoid deportation on humanitarian grounds. He was found to be at heightened risk if a disaster struck because he could not hear evacuation or other warnings. He also didn’t have anyone who could sign for him or ensure his safety.

In another case, an older couple from Eritrea were found to be especially vulnerable to the impacts of climate change because of “their elderly status and lack of family support”, in circumstances where they would be exposed to “conditions of abject poverty, underdevelopment and likely displacement”. This, in addition to other conditions in Eritrea, meant that there was “a real chance they would suffer cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment by way of starvation and destitution”. They were granted complementary protection.

A practical way forward

New Zealand has led the way on showing how existing international refugee and human rights law can provide protection in the context of climate change and disasters. It’s time for the rest of the world to catch up.

With colleagues from Australia, the United States and the United Kingdom, I’ve helped create a practical toolkit on international protection for people displaced across borders in the context of climate change and disasters.

This is a detailed resource for legal practitioners and decision-makers tasked with assessing international protection claims involving the impacts of climate change and disasters.

It shows when, why and how existing law can apply to claims where climate change or disasters play a role.

Inaccurate but popular labels aren’t helpful

Inaccurate but popular labels – such as “climate refugee” – have caused confusion and arguably hampered a consistent, principled approach.

Some judges and decision-makers assessing refugee claims may be spooked by “climate change”. They may think they need specialist scientific expertise to grapple with it.

The new toolkit shows why international protection claims arising in the context of climate change and disasters should be assessed in the same way as all other international protection claims. That is, by applying conventional legal principles and considering the facts of each case.

The toolkit stresses that it’s important to assess the impacts of climate change and disasters within a broader social context.

That includes examining underlying systemic issues of discrimination or inequity that may impact on how particular people experience harm.

The toolkit also shows why a cumulative assessment of risk is necessary, especially since risks may emerge over time, rather than as the result of a single, extreme event.

And it emphasises the need to look at the “hazard-scape” as a whole in assessing the future risk of harm to a person.

We hope the toolkit helps to debunk some common misunderstandings and charts a clear way forward. Our ultimate ambition is that people seeking international protection in the context of climate change and disasters will have their claims assessed in a consistent, fair and principled way.

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.

About 400 kilometres northwest of Sydney, just south of Dubbo, lies a large and interesting body of rock formed around 215 million years ago by erupting volcanoes.

Known as the Toongi deposit, this site is rich in so-called rare earths: a collection of 16 metallic elements essential for modern technologies from electric cars to solar panels and mobile phones.

Efforts are under way to mine this deposit, but the demand for rare earths in the coming decades is likely to be enormous.

To find more, we need to understand how and why these deposits form. Our latest research on Australian volcanoes, published in Nature Communications Earth and Environment, shows how tiny crystals formed inside volcanoes offer clues about the formation of rare earth deposits – and how we can find more of them.

Rare earths and the melting mantle

The formation of rare earth element deposits begins with partial melting of Earth’s mantle which lies deep below the crust.

Earth’s mantle is dominated by minerals that are rich in iron and magnesium. These minerals also contain small amounts of other elements, including the rare earth elements.

When the mantle melts to form magma, the rare earth elements move easily into the magma. If the amount of melting is small, the magma has a higher proportion of rare earth elements than if the amount of melting is large – for example, at a mid-ocean ridge where vast amounts of magma rush to the surface and form new oceanic crust.

As this magma migrates towards Earth’s surface, it cools down and new minerals begin to form. These minerals are mostly composed of oxygen, silicon, calcium, aluminium, magnesium and iron.

This means the leftover magma contains a higher concentration of rare earth elements. This residual liquid will continue to ascend through the crust until it solidifies or erupts at the surface.

From Greenland to central New South Wales

If the magma cools and crystallises in the crust, it can form rocks containing high levels of critical metals. One place where this has happened is the Gardar Igneous Complex in Southern Greenland, which contains several rare earth element deposits.

In central New South Wales in Australia, magmas enriched in rare earth elements erupted at the surface. They are collectively given the geological name Benolong Volcanic Suite.

Within this suite is the Toongi deposit – a part of the ancient volcanic plumbing system. This is an “intrusion” of congealed magma containing very high levels of critical metals.

Magmas enriched in rare earth elements are uncommon, and those that are enriched enough to be productively mined are rarer still, with only a few known examples worldwide. Even with all we know about how magmas form, there is much more work to be done to better understand and predict where magmas enriched in critical metals can be found.

Crystals record volcanic history

You may have wondered how scientists know so much about what happens kilometres (sometimes tens of kilometres) below our feet. We learn a lot about the interior of the Earth from studying rocks which make their way to the surface.

The processes that occur in a magma as it rises from Earth’s interior leave clues in the chemical composition of minerals which crystallise along the way. One mineral in particular – clinopyroxene – is particularly effective at preserving these clues, like a tiny crystal ball.

Fortunately, there are crystals of clinopyroxene within many of the rocks in the Benolong Volcanic Suite. This allowed us to examine the history of the non-mineralised rocks and compare it with the mineralised Toongi intrusion.

What’s different about the rocks at Toongi

We found that the Toongi rocks have two important differences.

First, the clinopyroxenes in the non-mineralised volcanic suite contain a lot of rare earth elements. This tells us that for most rocks in the volcanic suite, critical metals were “locked up” within clinopyroxene, rather than remaining in the residual melt.

In contrast, clinopyroxene crystals from Toongi show low levels of rare earth elements. Here, these elements are contained in a different mineral, eudialyte, which can be mined for rare earth elements.

Second, and most interesting, the clinopyroxenes from Toongi have an internal crystal structure that resembles an hourglass shape. This is caused by different elements residing in some parts of the crystal. It’s an exciting observation because it suggests rapid crystallisation occurred due the release of gas while the crystals were forming.

In contrast, we found no evidence of rapid crystallisation in the rocks without high levels of rare earths.

Our work means we can now track the composition and zoning of clinopyroxene in other extinct volcanoes in Australia and beyond to find out which ones may accumulate relevant rare earth element deposits.

This study adds another piece of the puzzle for understanding how critical metals accumulate, and how we can find them to power green, renewable energy sources for a sustainable future.

Brenainn Simpson, PhD Candidate, The University of Queensland; Carl Spandler, Associate Professor, University of Adelaide, and Teresa Ubide, ARC Future Fellow and Associate Professor in Igneous Petrology/Volcanology, The University of Queensland

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

January 2025 was the hottest on record – a whole 1.7°C above pre-industrial levels. If many climate-watchers expected the world to cool slightly this year thanks to the natural “La Niña” phenomena, the climate itself didn’t seem to get the memo. In fact, January 2025’s record heat highlights how human-driven ocean warming is increasingly overwhelming these natural climate patterns.

La Niña is a part of the El Niño southern oscillation, a climate fluctuation that slowly sloshes vast bodies of water and heat between different ocean basins and disrupts weather patterns around the world. El Niño was first identified and christened by Peruvian fishermen who noticed a dismal drop in their catch of sardines that coincided with much warmer than usual coastal waters.

El Niño is now well known to be part of a grander climate reorganisation that also has a reverse cool phase, La Niña. As vast swathes of the eastern Pacific cool down during La Niña, this has knock on effects for atmospheric weather patterns, shifting the most vigorous storms from the central Pacific to the west and disrupting the prevailing winds across the globe.

This atmospheric reaction also helps to amplify the sea surface temperature changes. Typically, La Niña will lower the global temperature by a couple of tenths of a degree Celsius.

In 2024 the Pacific swung from moderate El Niño conditions to a weak La Niña. However, this time around, it’s apparently not enough to stop the world warming – even temporarily. So what’s different this time?

Each La Niña cycle is unique

Scientists aren’t entirely surprised. Each El Niño and La Niña cycle is unique. Following a surprisingly lengthy “triple dip” La Niña starting in 2020, the El Niño that developed in 2023 was also unusual, struggling to stand out against globally warm seas. The switch to a weak La Niña has only slightly cooled a narrow band along the equatorial Pacific, while surrounding waters have remained unusually hot.

Recent research shows human caused warming of the ocean is accelerating – so a year on year rise in temperature is itself getting bigger – and this is dominating to an ever greater extent over El Niño and other natural oscillations in the climate. This means that even during La Niña – when equatorial eastern Pacific waters are cooler than normal – the rest of the world’s oceans have remained remarkably warm.

More carbon, less reflection

There is also a sense of inevitability as greenhouse gas levels continue to grow, even despite the demise of El Niño. During El Niño years, the land tends to absorb less carbon from the atmosphere as large continental areas, such as parts of South America, temporarily dry out causing less plant growth and more carbon-emitting plant decay.

La Niña tends to have the opposite effect. In the strong La Niña of 2011, so much extra rain fell on the normally dry lands of Australia and parts of South America and southeast Asia that sea levels dropped as the land held on to this excess moisture borrowed temporarily from the ocean. This meant more carbon was taken from the atmosphere to feed extra plant growth. But despite the switch to La Niña, the rate of rise in atmospheric carbon in 2024 and January 2025 remains above the already high levels of previous years.

To this we can also add the diminishing effects of particle pollution from industry, big ships and other sources of “aerosols”, which in some regions had added a reflective haze in the atmosphere meaning the world absorbed less sunlight. Clean air policies introduced over time have made the world less smoggy, but they also seem to have caused clouds to reflect less sunlight back to space, adding to global heating.

As industrial activity continues to spew greenhouse gases into the air, while air cleansed of particle pollution causes more sunlight to reach the ground, this growing heating effect is beginning to drown out natural fluctuations, tipping the balance toward record warmth and worsening hot, dry and wet extremes.

The long-term trend is clear

But, just as one swallow doesn’t make a summer, a single month is not reflective of the overall trajectory of climate change. Changing weather patterns from week to week can rapidly shift temperatures especially over big landmasses, which warm up and cool down more quickly than the oceans (it takes a long time to boil up water for your vegetables but not long to super heat an empty pan).

Large areas of Europe, Canada and Siberia experienced much less cold weather than is normal for January (by up to about 7°C). Parts of South America, Africa, Australia and Antarctica also experienced above average temperatures. Along with the balmy oceans, this all contributed to an unexpectedly warm start to 2025.

While this particular warm January isn’t necessarily cause for immediate alarm, it suggests natural cooling phases may become less effective at temporarily offsetting the impact of rising greenhouse gas levels on global temperatures. And to limit the scale of the inevitable, ensuing climate change, there is a clear, urgent need to rapidly and massively cut greenhouse gas emissions and to properly account for the true cost of our lifestyles on societies and the ecosystems that underpin them.

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Richard P. Allan, Professor of Climate Science, University of Reading

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The UK chancellor, Rachel Reeves, has described so-called sustainable aviation fuel (SAF) as a “game changer”. As she announced government support for a series of airport expansions, she said that the fuel “can reduce carbon emissions from flying by 70%”.

This number is misleading. Optimistic estimates do suggest that fully replacing fossil jet fuel with its sustainable alternative could lead to total savings of around 70%. But it will be hard to produce enough SAF to make a difference on that sort of scale. Even if the UK meets its ambitious targets, an annual saving of 7% by 2030 is more plausible.

SAF is synthetic liquid fuel derived from something other than fossil fuels. These inputs have to be processed into a liquid that can be burned safely while also storing a lot of energy for its weight, since minimising weight is crucial. This is why long-haul electric battery-powered planes are unlikely to take off any time soon.

The UK classifies three major pathways for creating sustainable aviation fuel. It can be derived from oils or fats, including used cooking oil or tallow. It can come from other sorts of material, such as municipal solid waste, agricultural residues, or sewage. Or it can be made from hydrogen and captured carbon using renewable electricity.

SAF can also be produced from bioenergy crops, and products such as palm oil. However the UK won’t certify it as sustainable, due to concerns about land use and impacts on wildlife.

Emissions that would have occurred anyway

Burning SAF actually emits a similar amount of CO₂ to fossil jet fuel. Instead, most savings come from how we account for the waste and renewable energy that is used to produce it.

SAF fundamentally relies on assumptions that if waste or energy crops were not used to make this fuel, they would be incinerated, would degrade, or would in some way release their embodied carbon anyway. In the case of fuel derived from renewable energy and captured carbon, it assumes that carbon came from the atmosphere in the first place. This allows these emissions to be deducted from the total impact of SAF, leading to lower emissions than conventional aviation fuel.

Is sustainable aviation fuel even sustainable?

Estimates of how much greenhouse gas SAF could cut vary greatly due to the many different ways it can be produced, and the complexities of accounting for emissions across the entire life cycle from waste, to fuel production, to plane engine. A 2023 review by the Royal Society illustrates this nicely. It found SAF could at best produce effectively negative emissions (a 111% reduction), while at worst it could be more carbon intensive than fossil kerosene jet fuel (a 69% increase).

While policy incentives are likely to encourage increased production, there remain serious concerns that will need to be addressed before SAF can become a serious competitor for conventional jet fuel. There are hard limits to the amount of used cooking oil available for instance, and the use of other feedstocks is still in its infancy.

Meanwhile any renewable energy used to make the fuel will have to compete with growing demand from electric vehicles, AI data centres and more. And there are big worries the industry simply won’t be profitable enough to attract initial capital investment, let alone take on its well-established rival.

UK SAF production

Coming into effect in January, the UK’s SAF mandate sets legal obligations for aviation fuel suppliers in the UK to progressively increase proportions of sustainable fuel, from 2% of total jet fuel in 2025 to 10% in 2030, and 22% in 2040.

This is one of a growing number of commitments globally, including RefuelEU, and the US SAF grand challenge, which seek to increase demand and encourage more investment in production.

As of 2023, 97% of the UK’s supply is derived from used cooking oil, with the rest from food waste. Only 8% of this cooking oil is sourced from the UK, with most being imported from China and Malaysia. The UK also comprises 16% of the global SAF market, despite representing only 1% of total passengers.

Currently, the only commercial producer of SAF in the UK is the Phillips 66 Humber Refinery which processes used cooking oil. The previous government allocated £135 million of funding to nine projects, aiming to have five plants under construction by 2025. Despite several projects selecting sites, at the time of writing none appear to be under construction.

In an industry with razor-thin profit margins, SAF remains considerably more expensive than conventional aviation fuel. With potential producers filing for bankruptcy and companies including Shell pulling out due to profitability concerns, the market is looking rocky.

A 7% saving is more plausible

Let us assume that Rachel Reeves’ 70% saving is deliverable if fossil jet fuel was fully replaced with SAF. That’s optimistic in itself, but not beyond the realms of possibility.

Getting hold of that much sustainable fuel is less plausible, however – the total demand for jet fuel in the UK is more than ten times the current global production of SAF. But let’s assume that the rocky global market can deliver the UK’s ambitious demand of 10% SAF use by 2030.

Reeves’ figure then becomes an optimistic value of 7% savings across the UK industry. If we then correct for anticipated growth of passenger numbers, assuming plans for airport expansion, those savings are likely to vanish.

While SAF has a role to play in decarbonisation, growth sits in clear opposition to its impacts and potential. If the UK has any hope of meeting its climate targets, it should instead be seeking alternatives to flying where possible.

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Ben Purvis, Research Associate, Sustainability Assessment, University of Sheffield

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Some long-haul flights connecting Europe and Asia are emitting 40% more CO₂ since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, my new study shows. The spike is largely due to airspace closures above conflict zones which are forcing airlines to seek alternative routes, significantly increasing flight times. Longer flights consume more fuel and increase the operating costs for airlines, quite apart from their contribution to climate change.

The research I led with colleagues highlights how conflicts contribute to climate change in unexpected ways. Understanding this is crucial for tackling aviation’s environmental footprint.

The war in Ukraine closed the country’s airspace and limited access to the airspace of the Russian Federation and Belarus. This amounts to the biggest closure of airspace since the cold war, spanning 18 million km².

Airlines that previously flew in Russian or Ukrainian airspace on routes between Europe and Asia, North America and Asia, and North America and the Middle East now take significant detours. For example, Finnair’s flight AY73 from Helsinki to Tokyo now covers an additional 3,131 kilometres, extending flight times by up to 3.5 hours. North American flights to Asia have been rerouted over the Arctic and Central Asia.

Safety concerns and geopolitical sanctions have forced airlines to carefully navigate around restricted zones.

The situation is further complicated by restrictions in other conflict regions – including the Middle East, where the airspaces of Syria, Yemen and Iraq are also considered no-fly zones for many airlines. The global aviation map has been redrawn, forcing airlines to adapt quickly to a new and challenging reality.

This has been accompanied by significant costs, both financially and to the climate. We analysed 14 long-haul routes between Europe and Asia that were affected by airspace restrictions and operated by three European airlines: Finnair, LOT Polish and Lufthansa.

The findings are striking: rerouted flights burn an additional 23 to 28.5 tonnes of fuel per journey, releasing an extra 72 to 90 metric tonnes of CO₂. That’s equivalent to the annual emissions of several cars for a single flight.

Airlines have also reported significant operating cost increases due to the extra flight hours, including higher fuel consumption, air navigation charges and crew salary increases. Our analysis showed that on certain routes between Europe and Asia, costs have risen by between 19% and 39%, while emissions have increased by between 18% and 40%, depending on the airline.

On routes from Warsaw to Beijing, Warsaw to Tokyo and Warsaw to Seoul, LOT Polish Airlines has reported an increase of 23% in average aircraft operating costs following flight restrictions. CO₂ emissions on these routes have increased by 24% and ticket prices have also risen.

Finnair, which historically relied on Russian airspace for efficient Europe-Asia connections, appears to be the most affected carrier. Following flight restrictions, aircraft operating costs on the routes from Helsinki to Shanghai, Helsinki to Tokyo and Helsinki to Seoul have risen by 39%, while average CO₂ emissions on these routes have increased by 40%.

Our findings shed new light on the massive carbon footprint of war, which is often overlooked in climate policy. Using a forecasting model with specialised software, we found that continued avoidance of the airspaces of Russia and Ukraine could increase all aviation-related CO₂ emissions globally by up to 29% in 2025, compared with 2022.

Aviation already accounts for 2.5% of global CO₂ emissions, and this figure is expected to grow as air travel expands.

Our findings demonstrate that the need to decarbonise transport cannot be separated from broader geopolitical issues. As wars and conflicts reshape airspace availability, they also worsen aviation’s carbon footprint. It’s not just the airline industry that bears these costs – we all do, in the form of rising temperatures and a changing climate.

What action needs to be taken?

While the challenges are significant, there are solutions.

Upgrading airline fleets with more fuel-efficient aircraft, such as the Airbus A350 and Boeing 787, can help to reduce CO₂ emissions by roughly 20%–25% compared with older aircraft models, such as the Boeing 777-200ER or Airbus A330-200.

Optimising flight paths using advanced air traffic management systems could help too. These systems, allow aircraft to choose the shortest and most efficient paths and can reduce unnecessary detours.

International agreements to manage airspace collectively during times of conflict can keep essential flight corridors open and ensure airlines avoid inefficient rerouting.

Airlines are investing in sustainable aviation fuels, which emits less than traditional kerosene – but insufficient supplies, high costs and other challenges make this an expensive and partial solution. With no viable low-carbon alternatives for aircraft, reducing air travel should be the priority.

As researchers, we see our findings as a call to action. By understanding the environmental consequences of conflict, we can work towards a more sustainable future for aviation and the planet.

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Viktoriia Ivannikova, Assistant Professor in Aviation Management, Dublin City University

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Water bills are going up in England and Wales, even after the series of scandals around water companies. Last year water firms paid £158 million in fines following a record-breaking number of sewage dumps in rivers and seas.

Severn Trent Water and United Utilities alone reportedly made 1,374 illegal sewage spills over two years. (Both companies took issue with the analysis that led to this figure but acknowledged concerns about sewage discharges.)

There have been other notable incidents. Whistleblowers have told of water companies that fail to treat legally required amounts of sewage and divert that sewage to public waterways. To add to the disgrace, water companies have generally failed to invest enough in the UK’s water infrastructure.

Research suggests that governments have been pressured to become more “business-like”. This has given rise to the use of public-private partnerships (PPPs) to run important public services, such as water, transport and even prisons. Water companies in England and Wales are private companies that bid for their contracts, while in Scotland, the water provider is a public organisation.

While other findings show that PPPs can support important public service needs, such as public health, research by my colleagues and I examines a consistent pattern in UK PPP scandals and wrongdoing. Over the past decade and a half, billions of pounds of taxpayers’ funds are unaccounted for. This appears to be largely because private interests have been prioritised over public needs.

As a researcher of PPP wrongdoing, the reasons for many of the scandals seem obvious. My colleagues and I studied parliamentary inquiries and reports that have scrutinised PPP wrongdoing. This research can tell us a great deal about the UK’s predicament with regard to the failings in the water industry.

The first lesson is that, in general, many PPPs are motivated actually to reduce the quality of the services they deliver. One parliamentary inquiry found that contracting services out from the public to the private sector had become a “transactional process” where cost-cutting is favoured and the “knock-on cost” to users results in a lower-quality public service.

Other findings showed that companies regularly reduced the quality of a service to maximise profits. One way was to bid for a public service at a low price. A Public Accounts Committee member observed that companies coming in with low quotes for contracts can end up damaging services by under-investing in them.

Another example is Sodexo – a private prison management provider. It cut employee numbers by around 200 and a subsequent BBC Panorama documentary detailed escapes and widespread drug use in the prisons they managed and also criticised a lack of safety for both prisoners and prison officers. Sodexo acknowledged the programme had highlighted problems and said it would investigate, but added that there had been “positive actions and improvements” already.

Similar practices were observed at a children’s prison run by security firm G4S, where an officer was left with brain damage after an attack by inmates. G4S admitted liability for the officer’s injuries and agreed a settlement with him.

Pay the fine, it’s cheaper

The second lesson is it can be cost-effective to breach contracts and pay fines. Companies sometimes breach the terms of their public-private contracts because it’s in their economic interest. This even has a name – economists call it “efficiency breach”.

For instance, a parliamentary report found that between 2010 and 2016 G4S was fined 100 times for breaching contracts – paying out roughly £3 million. As one MP suggested, these fines compared to its profits are a “slap on the wrist”. The same has been said of water companies.

When observing the fines in comparison to the profitable contracts, it’s easy to posit what the motivations of many in the UK’s public service system are. In 2017, despite previous indictments of wrongdoing, G4S won £25 million of government contracts.

In 2020 the firm won another £300 million contract to run Wellingborough “mega-prison” in England. Despite some raised eyebrows, G4S said at the time it aimed to make the site a blueprint for “innovation, rehabilitation and modernisation” in the prison service.

Pay the shareholders, invest later

The third lesson is that shareholders are more important than long-term investments in a service. This is perhaps the most notable feature of the UK’s public service system, where a vast array of shareholders benefit from the profits made by PPPs. In one of the parliamentary reports we analysed, which details the collapse of the facilities management firm Carillion, it was clear that shareholders’ interests trumped good management and long-term investment.

As was noted in the report, despite Carillion’s collapse, the firm paid out £333 million more to shareholders than it generated in cash between 2012 and 2017. Often, this shareholder primacy can even go against a firm’s own employees rather than just the state and taxpayers. One MP noted that despite its pension scheme being in deficit, shareholders were still receiving dividends.

Often, shareholders are prioritised because of short-term thinking. These processes can lead to firms passing these bad practices down their supply chains.

The behaviour of water companies is suggestive of these dynamics. Since water companies have been privatised, they have loaded themselves up with debt (£64 billion) but paid out £78 billion to shareholders. Some 70% of these shareholders are “foreign investment firms, private equity, pension funds and businesses lodged in tax havens”.

So what should be done? There are plenty of ways to enhance and improve the UK’s PPP problems. The most obvious may be to renationalise public services and renew the quality of public services through New Deal-style investments. After all, this is what what most of the UK electorate wants.

There are other options. An innovative and exciting frontier is opening for businesses to recognise their environmental responsibilities – initiatives in New Zealand, India and Ecuador are giving the status of personhood to rivers and ecosystems, for example.

Outdoor fashion brand Patagonia has “the Earth” as its only shareholder, and hair and skincare brand Faith in Nature has appointed nature to its board. Imagine if the UK’s water companies had the rivers and seas represented.

In the end, only time will tell how water companies will be held accountable. But for the moment it’s the UK taxpayer and consumer paying the price.

G4S was approached about this article but declined to comment.

Daniel Fisher, Assistant Professor in Management, University of Sussex

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

Earth must have experienced something exceptional 10 million years ago. Our study of rock samples from the floor of the Pacific Ocean has found a strange increase in the radioactive isotope beryllium-10 during that time.

This finding, now published in Nature Communications, opens new pathways for geologists to date past events gleaned from deep within the oceans.

But the cause of the beryllium-10 anomaly remains unknown. Could it have been major shifts in global ocean currents, a dying star, or an interstellar collision?

Extremely slow rocks deep in the ocean

I am on a hunt for stardust on Earth. Previously, I’ve sifted through snow in Antarctica. This time, it was the depths of the ocean.

At a depth of about 5,000 metres, the abyssal zone of the Pacific Ocean has never seen light, yet something does still grow there.

Ferromanganese crusts – metallic underwater rocks – grow from minerals dissolved in the water slowly coming together and solidifying over extremely long time scales, as little as a few millimetres in a million years. (Stalactites and stalagmites in caves grow in a similar way, but thousands of times faster.)

This makes ferromanganese crusts ideal archives for capturing stardust over millions of years.

The age of these crusts can be determined by radiometric dating using the radioactive isotope beryllium-10. This isotope is continuously produced in the upper atmosphere when highly energetic cosmic rays strike air molecules. The strikes break apart the main components of our air – nitrogen and oxygen – into smaller fragments.

Both stardust and beryllium-10 eventually find their way into Earth’s oceans where they become incorporated into the growing ferromanganese crust.

One of the largest ferromanganese crusts was recovered in 1976 from the Central Pacific. Stored for decades at the Federal Institute for Geosciences and Natural Resources in Hanover, Germany, a 3.7kg section of it became the subject of my analysis.

Much like tree rings reveal a tree’s age, ferromanganese crusts record their growth in layers over millions of years. Beryllium-10 undergoes radioactive decay really slowly, meaning it gradually breaks down over millions of years as it sits in the rocks.

As beryllium-10 decays over time, its concentration decreases in deeper, older sediment layers. Because the rate of decay is steady, we can use radioactive isotopes as natural stopwatches to discern the age and history of rocks – this is called radioactive dating.

A puzzling anomaly

After extensive chemical processing, my colleagues and I used accelerator mass spectrometry – an ultra-sensitive analytical technique for longer-lived radioactive isotopes – to measure beryllium-10 concentrations in the crust.

This time, my research took me from Canberra, Australia to Dresden, Germany, where the setup at the Helmholtz-Zentrum Dresden-Rossendorf was optimised for beryllium-10 measurements.

The results showed that the crust had grown only 3.5 centimetres over the past 10 million years and was more than 20 million years old.

However, before I could return to my search for stardust, I encountered an anomaly.

Initially, as I searched back in time, the beryllium-10 concentration declined as expected, following its natural decay pattern – until about 10 million years ago. At that point, the expected decrease halted before resuming its normal pattern around 12 million years ago.

This was puzzling: radioactive decay follows strict laws, meaning something must have introduced extra beryllium-10 into the crust at that time.

Scepticism is crucial in science. To rule out errors, I repeated the chemical preparation and measurements multiple times – yet the anomaly persisted. The analysis of different crusts from locations nearly 3,000km away gave the same result, a beryllium-10 anomaly around 10 million years ago. This confirmed that the anomaly was a real event rather than a local irregularity.

Ocean currents or exploding stars?

What could have happened on Earth to cause this anomaly 10 million years ago? We’re not sure, but there are a few options.

Last year, an international study revealed that the Antarctic Circumpolar Current – the main driver of global ocean circulation – intensified around 12 million years ago, influencing Antarctic ocean current patterns.

Could this beryllium-10 anomaly in the Pacific mark the beginning of the modern global ocean circulation? If ocean currents were responsible, beryllium-10 would be distributed unevenly on Earth with some samples even showing a lack of beryllium-10. New samples from all major oceans and both hemispheres would allow us to answer this question.

Another possibility emerged early last year. Astrophysicists demonstrated that a collision with a dense interstellar cloud could compress the heliosphere – the Sun’s protective shield against cosmic radiation – back to the orbit of Mercury. Without this barrier, Earth would be exposed to an increased cosmic ray flux, leading to an elevated global beryllium-10 production rate.

A near-Earth supernova explosion could also cause an increased cosmic ray flux leading to a beryllium-10 anomaly. Future research will explore these possibilities.

The discovery of such an anomaly is a windfall for geological dating. Various archives are used to investigate Earth’s climate, habitability and environmental conditions over different timescales.

To compare ice cores with sediments, ferromanganese crusts, speleothems (stalagmites and stalactites) and others, their timescales need to be synchronous. Independent time markers, such as Miyake events or the Laschamp excursion, are invaluable for aligning records thousands of years old. Now, we may have a corresponding time marker for millions of years.

Meanwhile, my search for stardust continues, but now keeping an eye out for new 10-million-year-old samples to further pin down the beryllium-10 anomaly. Stay tuned.

Dominik Koll, Honorary Lecturer, Australian National University

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

We have a natural fascination with time – how landscapes have been carved over millennia, how our bodies grow and sag with age, how the stars traverse the sky each night. Scientists probe the layers beneath our feet to understand the secrets of our past. Geologists and palaeontologists sample ice, rock and fossils to reconstruct past climates and species and archaeologists pick through ancient “dustbins” (middens) in excavation sites to reimagine our historical dinner time.

Similarly, most living things produce records of their own existence in layered body tissues – often in the form of daily or yearly growth bands. The most familiar of these so-called biochronologies are tree rings, which form every year in response to seasonal cycles in temperature and rainfall.

Dendrochronology – the art of tree-ring counting – allows us to precisely date trees. Based on the rings in its trunk, a bristlecone pine in eastern California known as Methuselah is said to be the world’s oldest living thing at 4,856 years old.

It’s not just the number of rings, either – their width tells us whether the tree was thriving in a particular year, or suffering due to drought. Chemical compounds locked into the wood offer clues about atmospheric changes, including those produced by volcanic eruptions.

Let’s not not stop at trees – your own tooth cement, nails and hair are forming chemical and visual records of your own life experience right now, storing traces of food, drink and drugs you have consumed. They can also produce “stress marks” during trauma or pregnancy, when a mother literally breaks her own body tissues to grow and nourish her baby.

Elsewhere in the natural world, some of the more surprising examples of biochronologies include whale earwax, narwhal tusks, bird feathers and the bony plates (scutes) on turtle shells.

Recent studies, for instance, have applied forensic analyses of whale earwax to explore their stress levels during historic whaling days. Narwhal tusks, meanwhile, have helped explain how declining Arctic sea ice has affected their diet and exposure to pollution.

The importance of otoliths

In my lab, we work with aquatic animals – from fish scales and ear bones to squid eyes and beaks. Like decoding a biological black box, we analyse chemical constituents in the growth layers to reconstruct a detailed picture of the individual’s prior health, diet and movements.

Some biochronologies are more “fickle”, forming layers at unpredictable rates, including the eye lenses of fish and turtle scutes. Others, such as bird feathers, are shorter lived due to periodic moulting. Yet they all share the important feature of serial growth, producing valuable archives that we can probe to build a picture of the animal’s life.

Probably the best known biochronometer in the animal world – and my own personal obsession – is the fish otolith, or ear bone (Ancient Greek: oto is ear and líthos is stone). We humans have tiny ear stones (otoconia), whose primary function is to maintain balance, but fish otoliths are also crucial for hearing, as well as featuring specific properties that make them particularly valuable markers of biochronology.

Unlike “normal” bones, fish otoliths are composed of calcium carbonate crystals and are metabolically inert, meaning they never get broken down and rebuilt. Instead they keep growing – even during periods of starvation – producing daily and annual growth bands.

These beautiful crystalline structures are also highly resistant to degradation and vary in shape between species. This enables scientists to use a combination of “otolith atlases” and artificial intelligence to identify popular choices of fish from otoliths left behind in ancient human middens, as well as in the contemporary stomach contents or poop of predators such as seals, albatrosses and squid.

Otoliths have driven my research for almost two decades. I’ve been fascinated by animal migration and the ecological and evolutionary processes underpinning these long and dangerous journeys ever since taking a “movement ecology” class at the University of Edinburgh with the brilliant Professor Victoria Braithwaite in 2003.

I decided I wanted to track marine animals myself, and my lab now primarily uses otolith and eye lens chemistry to reconstruct fish habitat use and growth rates, and the temperatures they experienced through their lives. We are now also investigating how well these same structures track reproductive events, chronic stress and exposure to pollution.

And we are working with international teams to understand how hypoxia (low oxygen zones or “dead zones”) affect fish growth and reproduction. Ultimately, this data allows us to connect stressful events in a fish’s past to its lifetime health and survival, which is important for predicting a species’ persistence.

For example, a recent study used otolith-derived metabolic rates of Atlantic bluefin tuna to show their vulnerability to future climate change. Meanwhile in California, we used otolith chemistry to understand the impact of dams on salmon migration and survival, revealing that – on many rivers - dams have made it impossible for salmon to escape into the mountains during summer, which is essential for enabling them to resist the increasingly severe droughts afflicting the region.

Conservation

Fisheries managers read the rings on millions of otoliths each year to track individual cohorts and look for warning signs of overfishing, but I would argue that biochronologies are still underused in this field. For example, fisheries managers could use otoliths to track the movements of juveniles too small to be tagged (those under 4cm long), since chemical markers make it possible to identify where they grew up. This would allow these managers to earmark productive or struggling “nursery habitats” for protection or improvement, respectively.

We consistently find that rivers and estuaries play a critical role in the survival and growth of valuable species such as salmon, sea bass and anchovies. Juvenile fish often have such high natural mortality rates – often only 1% survive to their first birthday – that even small improvements to their survival can result in large boosts in abundance and make wild fisheries more sustainable.

As such, let’s keep up the momentum to clean and restore our rivers and beaches, and to embrace monitoring tools such as biochronologies to learn which actions produce the biggest benefits. Next time you think about banging the glass at an aquarium, just remember that the fish inside are listening – and recording you too.

Anna Sturrock, Senior Lecturer, School of Life Sciences, University of Essex

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