Australia’s Net Zero Promise: Keep Digging - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

Key Points

Canberra defends new coal and gas projects by separating domestic emissions targets from export production, a distinction increasingly challenged by scientists and diplomats.1 Australia’s fossil fuel expansion risks overshooting the Paris temperature goals, even as national laws lock in a 2050 net zero pledge.2 A resource‑dependent economy and regional jobs are used to justify new projects, despite growing evidence of stranded‑asset risk in a decarbonising world.3 Claims of climate leadership sit uneasily with Australia’s position among the top coal and LNG exporters, weakening its influence in global climate talks.4 Rising climate impacts, from fires to floods, collide with approvals that lock in decades of emissions and infrastructure.5 Analysts warn that genuine alignment with Paris would require capping new fossil fuel projects and rapidly scaling renewables and storage instead.6

On paper, Australia has joined the world’s climate vanguard, enshrining net zero emissions by 2050 in law and promising deep cuts this decade, yet in the coalfields and gas basins the country is still digging in for the long haul.¹

This tension is defining a pivotal decade for one of the world’s largest fossil fuel exporters, and raising a blunt question in Canberra and beyond: Can a country credibly promise climate leadership while continuing to approve new mines and gas fields that will operate for decades?²

The official line: net zero at home, exports abroad

Successive federal governments have defended new coal and gas projects with a deceptively simple distinction, Australia counts emissions produced within its borders, not the pollution released when its fuels are burned overseas.³

Under this logic, the country can meet its domestic climate targets, largely through electricity decarbonisation and land‑sector measures, while leaving export volumes to be determined by global demand and trading partners’ policies.⁴

The Climate Change Act, passed in 2022, legislates a 43 per cent cut in emissions below 2005 levels by 2030 and net zero by mid‑century, and requires an annual climate statement to Parliament setting out progress and future plans.⁵

Official pathways lean heavily on scaling renewable energy to 82 per cent of generation in the National Electricity Market by 2030, alongside industrial efficiency and cleaner vehicles, while largely sidestepping the export question.¹

Government ministers have repeatedly argued that if Australia did not supply coal or gas, other exporters with weaker environmental standards would simply fill the gap, a position critics label the “drug dealer’s defence”.⁶

The result is a national narrative that treats export projects as commercial decisions, even when they shape the global carbon budget that ultimately determines how much warming Australia must endure.²

Do new projects breach the spirit of Paris?

The Paris Agreement does not name coal mines or gas fields, it binds nations to collective temperature limits, to hold warming “well below” 2 degrees Celsius and to pursue efforts to limit it to 1.5 degrees.⁷

For analysts who translate those temperature goals into production pathways, the picture is stark, modelling by international agencies finds no room for new unabated coal projects, and only a shrinking role for gas in a 1.5 degree‑aligned world.⁸

Independent assessments suggest that the emissions embedded in Australia’s existing and proposed fossil fuel projects would consume a large share of the remaining global carbon budget compatible with 1.5 degrees, especially once exported combustion is counted.⁹

The Climate Action Tracker rates Australia’s overall climate policies as falling short of what is needed for a 1.5 degree pathway, and warns that delays in scaling renewables risk locking in higher emissions through the 2030s.¹

Legal challenges inside Australia increasingly press this point, with communities and environmental groups arguing that regulators must consider downstream emissions from exported fuels when assessing new proposals.¹⁰

Courts have begun to grapple with these claims, but a comprehensive federal framework that aligns project approvals with Paris‑consistent carbon budgets remains elusive.¹¹

Balancing incompatible goals?

Australia’s climate strategy is often presented as a careful balancing act, safeguarding export income and regional jobs while gradually cutting pollution at home.³

In practice, many analysts argue that this amounts to running two conflicting policies in parallel, an ambitious domestic decarbonisation agenda, and an expansionary fossil fuel export strategy that assumes someone else will worry about the atmosphere.²

Energy economists warn that the longer Australia leans on this dual track, the higher the risk that today’s investments become tomorrow’s stranded assets, infrastructure unable to earn back its costs in a decarbonising world.⁸

The contradiction is not just moral or diplomatic, it is financial, tying public and private capital to projects that may be out of step with future markets and regulation.⁹

An economy built on exports, and the limits that brings

Fossil fuels remain a pillar of Australia’s export earnings, with coal and liquefied natural gas among the country’s top export commodities by value in recent years.¹²

Royalty revenue and company tax flows help underwrite state budgets, particularly in Queensland, Western Australia and New South Wales, while thousands of direct jobs support entire towns in the Hunter Valley, the Bowen Basin and the Pilbara.¹³

This economic dependence shapes the national debate over transition, with industry groups and some state governments warning that a rapid phase‑down could erode regional livelihoods and public services.¹⁴

The Commonwealth itself provides significant support through tax concessions and fuel subsidies, including fuel tax credits that effectively lower diesel costs for large mining operators, a measure long criticised by climate advocates as a hidden fossil fuel subsidy.¹⁵

For households, the export boom has produced mixed effects, rising global gas prices have at times fed into higher domestic energy bills, prompting ad hoc market interventions and price caps.¹⁶

These episodes underscore how Australia’s role as a major exporter can collide with its responsibility to protect consumers at home, especially during periods of global volatility and geopolitical tension.¹⁷

The “economic necessity” argument under strain

When ministers approve new gas fields or coal extensions, they often frame them as economic necessities, essential for export revenue, energy security or both.³

Yet global markets are shifting, international agencies report that coal demand is likely to peak this decade under current policies, and that clean energy investment already outpaces spending on fossil fuels worldwide.⁸

Major trading partners including Japan, South Korea and the European Union have committed to net zero targets, and are developing policies to phase down unabated coal and, over time, fossil gas.¹⁸

If these plans hold, long‑lived Australian projects could find themselves supplying shrinking markets, or face carbon border tariffs that erode competitiveness.¹⁹

Some Australian analysts now argue that the “economic necessity” narrative ignores emerging opportunities in critical minerals, green hydrogen and renewable manufacturing, sectors that could provide replacement export income with lower climate risk.²⁰

Others warn that continued spending on pipelines, ports and gas plants can crowd out capital for these new industries by tying up balance sheets and political attention.²¹

Stranded assets and the long life of infrastructure

Coal mines and LNG terminals are built for decades‑long lifespans, often 30 years or more, and their owners typically seek regulatory certainty before committing billions of dollars in capital.²²

In a world aligning with Paris, that time horizon becomes a liability, because demand is expected to decline before many projects reach the end of their design life.⁸

The International Energy Agency has warned that continued approval of long‑lived fossil fuel assets risks locking in emissions incompatible with net zero, and may leave investors and governments bearing losses as facilities retire early.⁸

For Australia, which has already seen coal generators shutter earlier than expected as renewables undercut their economics, the experience of stranded power plants offers a preview of what could happen in export sectors if global demand falls faster than anticipated.²³

The question is whether policy anticipates that risk, or assumes that markets will manage an orderly wind‑down without stronger guardrails.²⁴

Climate leadership, credibility and a dual identity

Diplomatically, Australia now presents itself as a partner in global climate action, highlighting its legislated targets, contributions to climate finance, and ambition to become a “renewable energy superpower”.⁵

At the same time, it remains one of the world’s largest exporters of thermal and metallurgical coal, and a leading supplier of LNG, a dual identity that does not go unnoticed in international negotiations.¹²

Observers from Pacific Island nations, many of which face existential threats from sea‑level rise and stronger storms, have been especially critical, arguing that continued fossil fuel expansion by wealthy countries like Australia undermines trust and endangers their survival.²⁵

Their leaders have called for an explicit commitment to phase out coal and gas production, not just to cut domestic emissions, as the true test of climate solidarity.²⁶

In wider forums, Australia’s push for initiatives such as green hydrogen partnerships and critical mineral supply chains is often welcomed, yet its reluctance to curb fossil fuel exports can blunt its influence when urging others to raise their own ambition.²⁰

Diplomats note that credibility in climate talks increasingly depends not only on domestic targets but on the coherence of a country’s entire economic strategy with Paris goals.⁷

How others read Australia’s dual‑track approach

Among allies and competitors, Australia is frequently seen as a cautious mover, raising its ambition after years of delay, yet still protecting legacy industries that hold political sway.¹

European policymakers, who are pressing ahead with carbon border adjustments on emissions‑intensive imports, watch closely to see whether Australian exports will decarbonise enough to avoid future trade friction.¹⁹

In Asia, some energy importers view Australia as a reliable supplier during their own transitions, while also exploring alternatives that could reduce long‑term dependence on fossil fuels.¹⁸

For climate‑vulnerable nations, however, the message can look contradictory, generous rhetoric on climate finance paired with approvals for projects that will add to global emissions for decades.²⁵

Emissions, extremes and a warming continent

Scientists have linked Australia’s recent run of record heat, catastrophic bushfires, and more intense floods to human‑driven climate change, driven primarily by the burning of fossil fuels.²⁷

The Black Summer fires of 2019‑20, which killed dozens of people and destroyed thousands of homes, were made far more likely and severe by higher temperatures and prolonged drought.²⁸

New fossil fuel projects add to this risk, directly through their domestic emissions, and indirectly through the exported pollution that warms the atmosphere and alters weather patterns affecting Australian communities.⁹

Modelling indicates that keeping warming close to 1.5 degrees would significantly reduce the frequency of extreme heatwaves and dangerous fire weather, compared with a 2 degree world, yet current global trajectories still point higher.⁷

Analysts warn that each large project approved today effectively locks in a slice of future emissions, making the task of meeting later climate targets steeper and more abrupt.⁸

At some point, incremental improvements in efficiency or carbon offsets may no longer compensate for the cumulative impact of continued fossil fuel expansion.⁹

Gas as a “transition fuel”

Australian governments often describe gas as a “transition fuel”, a cleaner alternative to coal that can back up renewables when the wind is not blowing and the sun is not shining.³

It is true that burning gas for electricity produces less carbon dioxide than coal per unit of energy, but this advantage can be eroded or erased by methane leaks along the supply chain, because methane is a potent greenhouse gas.²⁹

International assessments increasingly caution against over‑reliance on new gas infrastructure, noting that rapid growth in renewables, storage and demand‑side management can provide reliability without locking in decades of fossil fuel use.⁸

From a cost perspective, solar and wind paired with batteries are now often cheaper than new gas power plants, raising questions about whether additional gas capacity is truly the least‑cost option.³⁰

The risk is that invoking gas as a bridge delays investment in firmed renewables, extending the life of a fuel that must ultimately decline sharply in any net zero‑aligned scenario.⁸

Investment choices: renewables versus fossil fuels

Capital is finite, and every dollar spent on long‑lived fossil fuel assets is a dollar not available for renewables, storage or transmission upgrades that will be essential to a net zero grid.²¹

Australia has made significant commitments, including the Rewiring the Nation plan to modernise transmission, and funding to accelerate renewable zones and storage projects.⁵

Yet grid constraints, social licence challenges and policy uncertainty have slowed some large‑scale renewable developments, leaving the country short of the pace required to meet its 82 per cent by 2030 target.¹

Industry groups warn that mixed signals, ambitious climate laws alongside approvals for new fossil fuel projects, can deter investors seeking clear, long‑term policy direction.²¹

Analysts argue that tightening climate tests for new fossil fuel proposals, and sharpening incentives for clean energy, would help reorient capital flows toward assets aligned with a decarbonised future.⁸

Communities on the frontline of transition

In regional towns from Moranbah to Muswellbrook, coal mines and gas fields are not abstractions, they are employers, sponsors of local sports clubs and buyers of services that keep small businesses afloat.¹³

Mayors and community leaders often warn that poorly managed transition could hollow out their economies, as happened in parts of Europe and North America when heavy industry declined without adequate planning.³¹

Canberra has begun to acknowledge this challenge, outlining “net zero economies” for regional Australia and committing funds for skills, infrastructure and industry diversification in coal and gas‑dependent areas.⁵

However, locals and unions frequently argue that support remains fragmented and too modest compared with the scale of change ahead, especially if global markets shift faster than expected.¹⁴

The success of Australia’s climate transition will be measured not only in tonnes of emissions avoided, but in whether workers and communities that powered the fossil fuel era are offered credible new pathways rather than abrupt decline.³¹

Public opinion, politics and the approval gap

Surveys consistently show strong public support in Australia for climate action and renewable energy, including among voters in regional areas.³²

At the same time, federal approvals for fossil fuel projects continue, reflecting the political influence of resource‑rich States, industry lobbying and fears of electoral backlash in marginal seats tied to mining jobs.¹⁴

This gap between public sentiment and policy outcomes fuels frustration among climate advocates and younger voters, who see procedural reforms and new targets as insufficient while new extraction proceeds.³²

For major parties, the electoral calculus remains fraught, each must hold urban electorates where climate is a top concern, and regional seats where livelihoods still depend on fossil fuels.²

Indigenous rights and environmental justice

Many proposed coal and gas projects intersect with Indigenous lands and waters, raising questions about consent, cultural heritage and environmental justice.³³

Traditional Owners have challenged approvals in court, arguing that consultation processes are inadequate and that the cumulative impacts on Country, from groundwater drawdown to sacred site disturbance, are not properly assessed.³⁴

Some Indigenous groups have entered benefit‑sharing agreements with resource companies, citing employment and community funding, while others have rejected projects, saying short‑term gains cannot outweigh long‑term damage to Country and climate.³³

International norms such as free, prior and informed consent set a high bar, and experts argue that Australian law still falls short of fully embedding these standards into project assessment and approval.³⁵

Transition phase or structural contradiction?

Supporters of Australia’s current approach describe it as transitional, a pragmatic bridge in which fossil fuel exports gradually give way to clean industries as technology and markets evolve.³

Critics see something more fundamental, a structural contradiction between stated climate goals and a policy framework that continues to enable long‑lived fossil fuel expansion.²

Whether both objectives can coexist depends on the speed and scale of change, a modest increase in fossil fuel production over a short period might be compatible with rapid decarbonisation elsewhere, but large new projects operated for decades are harder to reconcile.⁸

At some point, incremental efficiency gains and offset schemes cannot square the circle if absolute emissions from production and combustion keep rising.⁹

Analysts warn that each year of delay narrows the space for a gentle landing, increasing the likelihood of abrupt policy corrections later that could shock communities and investors alike.⁷

What real alignment would look like

If Australia fully aligned its policies with its climate targets and the Paris temperature goals, the landscape would look different.⁸

New project approvals would be subject to explicit climate tests, including downstream emissions, and assessed against a transparent carbon budget consistent with 1.5 degrees or “well below” 2 degrees.⁹

Fossil fuel expansion would be capped or phased down, with clear timelines for the decline of coal and, later, gas production, accompanied by generous support for affected regions and workers.³¹

At the same time, investment in renewables, storage, transmission, energy efficiency and electrification would accelerate, backed by stable policy that gives investors confidence over decades rather than election cycles.⁵

Tax concessions and subsidies that favour fossil fuels, such as fuel tax credits, would be reformed, with savings redirected into clean energy and regional transition funds.¹⁵

Global market shifts and the risk of falling behind

Global coal demand is expected to plateau and then decline as major economies implement net zero pledges and ramp up renewables, and some scenarios see steep drops before mid‑century.⁸

Gas demand may hold up longer in certain sectors, but faces growing competition from renewables, efficiency and electrification, especially as the cost of batteries and other storage technologies falls.³⁰

Countries that move early to build clean energy industries, from manufacturing solar panels and batteries to processing critical minerals, are positioned to capture new markets and jobs.²⁰

Analysts warn that if Australia clings too long to fossil fuel exports, it risks missing this window, leaving its economy exposed as others diversify and decarbonise.²¹

Already, international capital is increasingly screening for climate risk, and investors in sectors from insurance to superannuation funds are scrutinising exposure to coal and gas, a trend that could raise financing costs for projects seen as inconsistent with net zero pathways.²³

Conclusion: a choice that cannot be deferred forever

Australia’s climate story is one of ambition on paper and ambivalence in practice, a nation that has finally legislated net zero and begun to reshape its power system, yet still leans heavily on coal and gas exports that fuel the very warming it vows to fight.¹

For now, the government holds together a fragile compromise, promising households cleaner, more reliable energy and promising mining regions continued opportunity, while international partners watch to see which vision prevails.⁵

The central tension is not only whether Australia can square its domestic emissions ledger while continuing to export large volumes of fossil fuels, but whether such an approach remains credible in a world that increasingly judges countries on the full climate footprint of their economies.²

As climate impacts intensify, from fires and floods to heatwaves that test the limits of infrastructure and health systems, the political space for hedging may narrow, forcing starker choices.²⁷

In the end, the question is less about what is technically possible than about what kind of economic future Australia chooses, one tied to industries the world is slowly leaving behind, or one that uses its vast renewable resources to power a different kind of superpower status.²⁰

For now, the country is trying to do both, but physics, markets and diplomacy may not allow that balancing act to last indefinitely.⁸

References

1. Climate Action Tracker, Australia country assessment

2. Climate Council, Climate targets in Australia fact sheet

3. Energy Facts Australia, Energy policy explainer

4. International Energy Agency, World Energy Outlook 2023

5. Australian Government, Climate change commitments and strategies

6. Climate Council, Fossil fuel subsidies in Australia

7. United Nations, The Paris Agreement

8. International Energy Agency, Net Zero by 2050 roadmap

9. United Nations Environment Programme, Production Gap Report

10. Environmental Defenders Office, Legal challenges to fossil fuel projects

11. Australian Parliament, Environment and Energy Committee materials

12. Australian Bureau of Statistics, International trade in goods and services

13. Productivity Commission, Resources sector overview

14. Minerals Council of Australia, Industry reports

15. Australian National Audit Office, Fuel tax credits scheme

16. Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, Gas inquiry reports

17. Department of Climate Change, Energy, the Environment and Water, Energy market updates

18. International Energy Agency, Southeast Asia Energy Outlook

19. European Commission, Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism

20. CSIRO, Critical minerals and the energy transition

21. Clean Energy Council, Policy and investment updates

22. International Energy Agency, World Energy Investment 2023

23. Australian Renewable Energy Agency, Coal closure and transition case studies

24. Reserve Bank of Australia, Climate change risk to Australian banks

25. Pacific Islands Forum, Climate change statements

26. Climate Council, Pacific Island climate justice

27. Climate Council, Heatwaves and extreme weather in Australia

28. van Oldenborgh et al, Attribution of the Australian bushfires season (Nature Communications)

29. IPCC, Sixth Assessment Report Working Group I

30. Lazard, Levelized Cost of Energy analysis

31. OECD, Just transition case studies

32. Lowy Institute, Climate of the Nation polling

33. National Native Title Tribunal, Mining and native title

34. AIATSIS, Indigenous land and resource rights

35. UN OHCHR, Free, prior and informed consent

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Fuel, fear and fault lines: how the Iran war is rewriting Australia’s energy politics - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

Key Points

Iran’s chokehold on the Strait of Hormuz has exposed Australia’s deep dependence on imported refined fuels and limited reserves1. Short-term policy responses lean toward fossil fuel security, while structural solutions point to faster renewable deployment and electrification2. High and volatile oil and gas prices are lifting household and industry costs, but also improving the economics of solar, wind and storage in Australia3. Transport, agriculture and mining are acutely exposed to diesel and petrol shocks, driving renewed interest in electric vehicles and off-grid renewables4. Australia’s role as a fossil fuel exporter and emerging renewable superpower is sharpening political choices about energy security and climate commitments5. The Iran war underlines that the clean energy transition is not only technological, it is a geopolitical contest over fuels, chokepoints and supply chains6.

On a hot March afternoon in Perth, motorists queue at a a suburban service station, watching digital price boards edge higher with every delivery.¹ 

For many, the jump of tens of cents a litre in a few weeks feels less like a market fluctuation and more like a forewarning.

The immediate cause lies thousands of kilometres away, where Iran’s blockade and conflict around the Strait of Hormuz have choked a route that normally carries about one fifth of the world’s oil.¹ 

For Australia, which imports about 90 per cent of its liquid fuels, the disruption has sent petrol and diesel prices sharply higher and revived a long‑running question: what happens when the ships stop coming.²

Politicians talk about “resilience” and “self‑reliance”, yet the policy choices now being made cut in two directions at once, doubling down on fossil fuel supply to keep the economy running, or using the crisis as a pivot to accelerate renewables, electrification and storage.³ 

The answer will shape not only household bills and regional jobs, but also whether Australia can meet its climate goals in a more volatile world.

From chokepoint to catalyst

In global energy markets, the Strait of Hormuz has always been a vulnerability, yet its closure in wartime has turned a hypothetical risk into a lived shock.¹ 

Crude oil prices have surged, and liquefied natural gas (LNG) benchmarks have risen as traders price in the risk of sustained disruption to Middle Eastern exports.⁴

For most countries, the consequences are higher prices and inflationary pressure. For Australia, the impact runs deeper because the country relies not only on imported crude but predominantly on imported refined petrol, diesel and jet fuel from Asian refineries that themselves depend heavily on Middle Eastern oil.² 

The choke is therefore two steps upstream, hitting crude flows into Singapore, South Korea and Japan, then rippling through to the refined products shipped to Australian ports.²

Short term, governments tend to prioritise keeping fuel flowing at almost any cost, tapping emergency stockpiles, offering subsidies or tax relief and urging producers to lift output.⁴ 

Longer term, however, repeated shocks change investment decisions by households, utilities and industry, shifting capital away from fuels exposed to geopolitical risk and toward renewables that run on sun and wind rather than shipping lanes.³

Crisis: accelerator or brake on clean energy

Past disruptions offer a cautionary tale. The oil price spikes of the 1970s spurred efficiency standards and nuclear expansion in some countries, yet also entrenched new fossil fuel sources such as North Sea oil and later Middle Eastern gas.³ 

The 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine pushed Europe to turbocharge renewables and heat pumps, but it also triggered a scramble for coal and LNG that raised global emissions in the short term.³

The Iran war appears to be following a similarly mixed script. Analysts warn that rising oil and LNG prices above 100 US dollars a barrel will lift costs across transport, power and manufacturing, yet these same price signals make solar, wind and batteries more competitive on a lifecycle basis.³ 

The International Energy Agency expects clean energy investment globally to keep increasing, with solar alone projected to attract more capital than oil production, even as fossil fuel spending remains substantial.³

In the near term, governments under pressure from voters often reach first for familiar levers, such as expanding gas supply or coal generation, to stabilise prices and avoid blackouts.⁴ 

Whether this crisis produces a “renewable acceleration effect” or a “fossil fuel rebound effect” will depend on decisions made in the next few years about grids, storage, electric transport and industrial electrification, not simply on fuel prices themselves.⁶

Australia’s layered fuel vulnerability

Australia’s predicament is acute because it holds only about 30 to 37 days of petrol, diesel and jet fuel in domestic stocks, well below the 90 days required under its treaty obligations with the International Energy Agency.⁵ 

After years of refinery closures, just two facilities remain in operation, in Geelong and Brisbane, leaving the country heavily reliant on imported refined products from North and South‑East Asia.⁵

Those imports already travel through other narrow maritime passages such as the Malacca, Lombok and Sunda Straits, meaning a crisis in the Persian Gulf is only the first layer of exposure.² 

Any further disruption in South‑East Asian sea lanes would quickly translate into physical shortages, not just higher prices, for a continent‑sized country where regional communities depend on trucks, utes and diesel generators.²

This vulnerability is not theoretical. As conflict in Iran escalated, Western Australia began to see steep increases in retail fuel prices, with average unleaded costs in Perth jumping by around 70 cents a litre in less than a month according to state monitoring data.⁷ 

Families cut back on discretionary driving, and small businesses in freight and construction reported thinning margins as fuel bills rose faster than they could adjust contracts.⁷

Transport: shocks at the bowser

Nowhere are the effects more visible than at the bowser. Australia imports around 90 per cent of its refined fuel, so global oil price spikes flow quickly into pump prices, adding roughly 40 cents a litre compared with pre‑crisis levels by some estimates.⁴ 

For a typical family car with a 60‑litre tank, that means paying around 24 dollars more at each fill, a significant hit to household budgets during a broader cost‑of‑living squeeze.⁴

Rising petrol and diesel costs are, in theory, a powerful driver of electric vehicle uptake because they shorten the payback period for higher upfront EV purchase prices.³ 

Recent disruptions have coincided with spikes in Australian EV sales, helped by state incentives and a growing second‑hand market, as drivers seek protection from volatile fuel bills and look to charge at home from rooftop solar.³

History suggests, however, that surges in EV interest during crises can fade if fuel prices later stabilise and policy support remains patchy.³ 

Without firm fuel efficiency standards, charging infrastructure investment and clear phase‑out dates for combustion engines, temporary price shocks may not translate into a sustained shift in the national vehicle fleet.³

Australia’s aviation and shipping sectors face similar pressures but have fewer immediate alternatives, given the limited availability of sustainable aviation fuels and green shipping fuels at scale.³ 

The result is higher costs for regional air travel and freight, feeding through to ticket prices and the cost of goods in remote areas.⁷

Power bills and the promise of renewables

The gas market links the Iran crisis directly to electricity bills. Disruption in the Strait of Hormuz has pushed up international LNG prices as buyers anticipate tighter supplies, even where physical cargoes have not yet been curtailed.⁴ 

In Australia’s interconnected east coast market, gas‑fired generators often set the marginal price of electricity, so higher gas input costs flow into wholesale power prices and, with a lag, household bills.¹²

At the same time, the economics of new generation are shifting. The IEA and other analysts find that the levelised cost of energy from utility‑scale solar and onshore wind has fallen sharply over the past decade, by up to 80 per cent in some cases when combined with cheaper batteries, making them increasingly competitive against new coal and gas plants even before accounting for fuel price volatility.⁹ 

Unlike gas or coal, renewable projects have no exposure to international fuel markets once built, insulating them from geopolitical disruptions in places like the Middle East.⁹

High fossil fuel prices can therefore accelerate investment in grid‑scale batteries and pumped hydro storage, which help manage the variability of wind and solar and reduce reliance on peaking gas plants during demand spikes.⁹ 

In Australia, where households have installed rooftop solar at world‑leading rates, adding batteries and smarter demand response could significantly cut the need for imported fuel‑linked generation over time.⁹

Industry: exposed yet adaptive

Energy‑intensive industries are feeling the strain. Mining operations across Western Australia rely heavily on diesel for haul trucks and stationary generators, so sudden jumps in fuel costs squeeze margins and threaten the viability of marginal projects.⁷ 

Aluminium smelters and fertiliser plants also face rising input costs through higher electricity and gas prices, amplifying competitive pressures in global markets.¹⁰

Yet the same crisis may hasten change. Several major miners have already begun electrifying haul fleets and investing in on‑site renewables and battery systems to cut diesel consumption, lower emissions and reduce exposure to volatile fuel markets.⁷ 

Interest in green hydrogen for steel, ammonia and heavy transport has grown as policymakers and investors look for alternatives that can be produced domestically from renewable electricity.³

For now, these technologies remain costly and often rely on public support or premium markets, but sustained fossil fuel price volatility could shift that calculus faster than expected.³ 

If capital flows into electrification, transmission and clean industrial processes rather than new fossil infrastructure, the current crisis could mark a turning point in Australian manufacturing strategy.⁹

Farming through a fuel and fertiliser crunch

On a grain property in regional New South Wales, a farmer watches the diesel gauge as closely as the weather forecast. Every planting and harvest season depends on affordable fuel for tractors, trucks and pumps, along with fertilisers derived from gas‑intensive processes.¹⁰ 

The Iran conflict has tightened both markets, lifting diesel and fertiliser prices and raising production costs for Australian farmers.¹⁰

Higher input prices tend to feed into retail food costs, adding to inflation and hitting low‑income households hardest.¹⁰ 

Some producers pass on the increases, others absorb them and delay equipment upgrades or reduce hired labour, decisions that can ripple through regional economies dependent on agriculture.¹⁰

Over the longer term, sustained high diesel prices could make electrified farm machinery, such as battery‑powered tractors paired with on‑farm solar, more attractive where grid connections or microgrids are available.⁹ 

Emerging practices, including renewable‑powered irrigation and low‑emissions fertiliser production using green hydrogen, offer potential pathways to reduce the sector’s exposure to both price shocks and emissions constraints, though they are not yet widely commercial.⁹

Households on the front line

For many Australians, the geopolitics of the Persian Gulf become tangible only when they tap a credit card at the servo or open a power bill. Rising fuel prices since the Iran war have been among the fastest in the developed world, according to some analyses, reflecting Australia’s import dependence and limited buffer of domestic stocks.⁵ 

Households in outer suburbs and regional towns, where public transport is sparse, are particularly exposed because driving is often unavoidable.⁷

Some families respond by consolidating trips, delaying visits to relatives and cutting back on discretionary travel, a pattern already visible in surveys and anecdotal reports.⁷ 

Others invest in rooftop solar, home batteries or more efficient vehicles if they have the savings or access to credit, deepening an emerging divide between those able to insulate themselves from energy shocks and those forced to absorb each new spike.⁹

This divergence highlights a central tension in energy policy: measures that rely on households to invest in technology can reduce system‑wide demand and emissions, yet without targeted support they risk leaving low‑income communities more exposed to price volatility.⁹ 

As governments respond to the Iran crisis, decisions about rebates, tariffs and support for social housing retrofits will influence who gains and who loses from the energy transition.³

Exporter and potential clean energy superpower

Australia faces a particular dichotomy. It is one of the world’s largest exporters of coal and LNG, supplying the very fuels whose prices are now spiking, yet it is also positioning itself as a future renewable energy superpower through green hydrogen, critical minerals and high solar and wind potential.³ 

This dual identity complicates domestic debates about how quickly to shift away from fossil fuel production and how to manage the geopolitical implications of doing so.⁶

On one hand, high global prices deliver windfall export revenues and royalties, bolstering budgets and funding services, particularly in resource‑rich states.¹⁰ 

On the other, sustained investment in new coal and gas projects risks locking in emissions and infrastructure that will be costly to retire as global climate policies tighten.³

International agencies warn that to meet agreed climate targets, investment in new unabated fossil fuel supply needs to decline sharply while spending on renewables, grids and efficiency continues to rise.³ 

For Australia, that means deciding whether to treat the current crisis as justification for further fossil expansion or as the last warning before a deliberate pivot to low‑carbon exports such as green metals and clean energy technologies.⁹

Climate goals under pressure

The emissions impact of the Iran war is likely to be complex. In the short term, higher fossil fuel prices can depress consumption and encourage efficiency, but the crisis has also prompted some countries to extend the life of coal plants and approve new gas infrastructure in the name of security.³ 

If such investments persist, they risk undermining the emissions reductions required this decade to keep global temperature goals in reach.³

For poorer countries, the calculus is even harder. Higher energy prices and debt burdens can push governments to delay climate investments, prioritising immediate affordability and access over long‑term decarbonisation, especially where international finance is limited.³ 

That dynamic may widen the gap between advanced economies able to invest in clean technologies at scale and developing nations left reliant on cheap but polluting fuels.³

Australia’s own climate commitments, including emissions reduction targets and net zero pledges, now sit alongside a renewed focus on fuel security and cost‑of‑living relief.⁵ 

Balancing these priorities will require more than slogans, it demands credible plans to cut demand for imported fossil fuels through efficiency, electrification and renewables, rather than simply searching for new supply.⁹

Policy choices at the crossroads

If oil prices remain elevated into 2027, as some experts warn, the choices made today will crystallise into long‑lived infrastructure and market structures.⁶ 

To ensure the crisis leads to faster decarbonisation rather than deeper fossil dependence, analysts point to several priorities: accelerating grid upgrades, setting clear EV and appliance standards, strengthening fuel security rules and directing public finance toward clean energy, not new fossil projects.³

For Australia, a credible strategy would likely include higher minimum fuel stockholdings, diversified supply routes and resilience planning for key sectors, alongside a rapid build‑out of renewables, storage and transmission to cut exposure to imported fuels in power generation.² 

In transport, binding fuel efficiency standards, expanded charging infrastructure and targeted support for EVs and e‑buses could reduce oil demand while improving air quality and household budgets over time.⁹

Critically, regional communities that have long depended on fossil fuel industries will need support to diversify their economies through investment in renewable projects, clean manufacturing and services, so the transition is managed rather than imposed.⁷ 

Without such planning, resistance to change may grow, especially if people feel they are being asked to shoulder the costs of climate policy while energy companies profit from higher prices.¹⁰

A geopolitical transition, not just a technological one

The Iran war has laid bare a simple reality: the energy transition is as much about geopolitics as it is about engineering.⁶ 

Fossil fuels flow through chokepoints controlled by states and, at times, by armed groups, making supply vulnerable to conflict and coercion in ways that electrons on a domestic grid are not.¹

Yet clean energy supply chains have their own geopolitical risks. Solar panels, batteries and critical minerals are concentrated in a handful of countries, raising concerns about new forms of dependence even as reliance on Middle Eastern oil and gas eventually declines.³ 

For Australia, rich in lithium, nickel and rare earths and endowed with strong solar and wind resources, this shift offers both opportunity and responsibility.⁹

Ultimately, the question facing policymakers is not just how to keep the lights on during a distant war, but what kind of energy system they want to inhabit when the next crisis arrives.⁶ 

Whether Australia emerges more resilient, more equitable and on track to meet its climate goals will depend on whether it uses this moment to reduce its exposure to fossil fuel geopolitics, or simply to reroute the same vulnerabilities through different ports and pipelines.²

Conclusion: a fragile equilibrium

The shock from the Strait of Hormuz has exposed how quickly events in a distant waterway can seep into Australian lives, from supermarket prices to regional air tickets. It has also forced a reckoning over the country’s layered fuel vulnerabilities, its limited reserves and its dependence on refineries and sea lanes it does not control.²

At the same time, the crisis has sharpened the appeal of an energy system built on abundant sun and wind, local storage and electrified transport, one less beholden to geopolitical chokepoints and sudden price spikes.⁹ 

Households, miners and farmers are beginning to experiment with this future, installing solar, testing electric machinery and seeking ways to hedge against the next oil shock.⁷

Australia’s governments now sit at a junction. They can treat the Iran war as justification to entrench fossil fuel supply networks, investing in new coal, gas and import infrastructure that may linger beyond a safe climate window, or they can treat it as a final warning, a prompt to double down on renewables, storage and efficiency.³ 

The balance they strike between energy security, economic stability and climate commitments will determine whether today’s queues at the servo become a recurring feature of Australian life or a memory of a system in transition.

References

1. Australian fuel prices: what to expect following newest conflict in Iran (NRMA)
2. Hormuz closure brings Australia’s layered fuel vulnerability to the fore (ASPI)
3. Energy fallout from Iran war signals a global wake-up call for renewable energy (AP / IEA analysis)
4. The Iran war has triggered a fuel price rise. What does this mean for Australian consumers? (The Conversation)
5. The 90-day question looming over Australia’s fuel price pain (SBS)
6. Iran war sparks oil supply crisis lasting until 2027 (news.com.au)
7. From petrol prices to mining, how the Iran war is impacting Western Australia (ABC News)
8. Ominous oil bargain facing Australia as fuel supplies dry up (Yahoo Finance Australia)
9. IEA says faster transition to renewables equals lower household prices (RenewEconomy)
10. How disruption in Iran’s Strait of Hormuz is affecting Australia (The Guardian)
11. How the Middle East war spiked Australia's fuel prices (ABC News)
12. Australian energy bills could surge as Iran conflict drives oil, gas and LNG prices higher (The Guardian)

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The Clock Is Slowing: How Climate Change Is Lengthening the Day - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

New research traces the lengthening of Earth's day
to unprecedented levels not seen in 3.6 million years,
adding a planetary dimension to the climate crisis.

Key Points

Climate change is lengthening Earth's day at a rate of 1.33 milliseconds per century, driven by melting polar ice redistributing mass toward the equator.1 This rate of change is unprecedented in 3.6 million years of Earth's climate history, exceeding any naturally occurring fluctuation in the Quaternary period.2 Researchers reconstructed ancient day-length variations using the chemical signatures locked in benthic foraminifera fossils and a physics-informed deep learning algorithm.3 The physics mirrors a figure skater slowing their spin by extending their arms, as mass moves away from Earth's polar axis toward the equatorial bulge.4 Even millisecond shifts in Earth's rotation can disrupt GPS systems, satellite navigation and global financial networks that depend on atomic-clock precision.5 If emissions remain high, scientists warn that climate change could overtake the Moon's gravity as the dominant force shaping Earth's rotation by century's end.6

For as long as civilisations have measured time, the 24-hour day has seemed immutable. It is not. 

A study published in March 2026 in the Journal of Geophysical Research: Solid Earth finds that Earth's days are growing longer at a rate unmatched in 3.6 million years, and the primary driver is human-caused climate change.¹

The finding connects two phenomena that seem, at first, to belong to entirely different realms: the melting of polar ice sheets and the rotation of the planet itself. 

Yet researchers at the University of Vienna and ETH Zurich have shown they are inseparable. 

As greenhouse gas emissions accelerate the melting of glaciers in Greenland and Antarctica, the resulting meltwater flows into the oceans and spreads toward the equator, making Earth slightly wider at its middle. That subtle redistribution of mass is enough to slow the planet's spin.²

A Millisecond That Matters

The change is not perceptible to a person going about their day. Between 2000 and 2020, climate-related factors lengthened each day by the equivalent of 1.33 milliseconds per century.¹ 

A millisecond is one-thousandth of a second. But in the world of precision timekeeping, even that fraction carries consequences.

Coordinated Universal Time, or UTC, is set by atomic clocks and must be periodically adjusted to match Earth's actual spin. These adjustments, called leap seconds, are added or subtracted to keep clocks aligned with the planet's rotation. The global financial system, GPS navigation, power grids and internet infrastructure all depend on this synchronisation.⁵

Duncan Agnew, a geophysicist at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography at the University of California San Diego, documented in Nature in 2024 that ice melt had pushed back the need for a timekeeping adjustment by roughly three years, from 2026 to around 2029.⁸ 

Many computer systems can add a leap second, but far fewer are programmed to subtract one. That asymmetry, Agnew noted, represents a genuine technical risk.

The Physics of the Spin

The mechanism at work is a fundamental principle of physics: the conservation of angular momentum. Any spinning body resists changes to its rotation. When its mass is concentrated close to the axis of spin, it rotates quickly. When that mass spreads outward, the rotation slows.

Scientists at ETH Zurich describe it in terms every sports fan can visualise. A figure skater executing a pirouette pulls her arms tightly to her body to spin faster. When she extends them outward, her rotation slows immediately.⁴ 

Earth works the same way. Ice stored at the poles is positioned close to the planet's rotational axis. When it melts and flows into the oceans, that mass migrates toward the equator. Earth's waistline widens, and the spin decelerates.

Since 1993, global sea levels have risen by roughly 10 centimetres on average.⁴ 

Scientists project a rise of at least 60 centimetres by the end of this century under high-emissions scenarios. Each increment of sea level rise adds to the equatorial bulge. Each addition slows the rotation a fraction more.

Reading the Deep Past

To understand whether today's changes are unusual, the research team needed to compare them against millions of years of history. That required a novel form of detective work rooted in ocean sediment.

The scientists turned to benthic foraminifera, microscopic single-celled organisms that live on the seafloor and build calcium carbonate shells. When they die, those shells accumulate in ocean sediment, preserving a chemical record of the water conditions at the time of their formation.¹ 

By analysing the oxygen isotope ratios locked inside fossil foraminifera shells, researchers can infer ancient sea levels, and from those sea levels, calculate how Earth's rotation must have changed.

"From the chemical composition of the foraminifera fossils, we can infer sea-level fluctuations and then mathematically derive the corresponding changes in day length," said Mostafa Kiani Shahvandi, the study's first author and a climate scientist at the University of Vienna.¹

Paleoclimate data of this kind carries substantial uncertainty. Fossil records are incomplete, and the signals preserved in ancient shells can be distorted by diagenesis, the chemical alteration of sediment over geological time. To account for these complexities, the team applied a probabilistic deep learning algorithm, a physics-informed diffusion model designed to extract meaningful patterns from noisy data.² 

The model was constrained by the known physical laws governing sea-level change, lending it greater credibility than a purely statistical approach.

Unprecedented in 3.6 Million Years

The results were stark. During the Quaternary period, spanning roughly the past 2.6 million years, natural ice ages caused Earth's ice sheets to advance and retreat in cycles driven by orbital variations in the planet's path around the Sun. These cycles produced measurable fluctuations in day length.² They were, however, comparatively gradual.

The current rate of 1.33 milliseconds of additional day length per century stands outside that entire range of natural variation. Going back further, to the Late Pliocene some 3.6 million years ago, the researchers found no comparable period of change.² 

The closest historical parallel involved deglaciation events after major ice ages, but even those transitions, driven entirely by natural orbital forcing, did not produce a rate of rotational change equal to what is occurring today.

"The current rapid rise in day length can thus be attributed primarily to human influences," said Benedikt Soja, Professor of Space Geodesy at ETH Zurich and a co-author of the study.⁶

A Planetary System Responding to Human Activity

Earth's rotation is not governed by a single force. The Moon's gravitational pull exerts tidal friction on the oceans, and that friction has been the dominant driver of rotational slowing over geological timescales. 

Simultaneously, the slow rebound of Earth's crust following the last Ice Age, a process called glacial isostatic adjustment, shifts mass back toward the poles and tends to speed the planet's rotation. Both processes are predictable and relatively constant.⁴

A fourth factor, fluid motion within Earth's molten outer core, can temporarily accelerate or decelerate the spin over periods of 10 to 20 years. Right now, core dynamics are causing a slight countervailing speed-up that partially offsets the climate-driven slowing.⁶ 

The interplay between these forces demonstrates how tightly Earth's internal processes and its surface climate are linked.

NASA-funded research, published in separate papers in 2024 in Nature Geoscience and the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, found that climate-related mass redistribution, including groundwater depletion and glacial melt, accounts for roughly 90 per cent of the periodic oscillations in Earth's polar motion since 1900.⁵ 

The same research documented that the lengthening of the day has been accelerating at a faster pace since 2000 than at any point in the preceding century.

The Coming Century

The implications extend well beyond timekeeping. If high-emissions trajectories continue, Soja's team projects that the climate-driven influence on Earth's rotation could surpass the Moon's gravitational effect before the end of the 21st century.⁶ 

That would mark a profound inversion: for billions of years, the Moon set the pace. Human industry would have overtaken it.

Research published in 2024 found that melting ice had already shifted Earth's rotational axis by roughly 10 metres since 1900, a phenomenon called polar motion.⁵ 

That shift in turn generates small perturbations in Earth's interior, feeding back into the dynamics of the molten core in ways scientists are only beginning to understand.

For satellite systems, the changes are not trivial. GPS and space navigation rely on precise models of Earth's rotation to calculate the position of objects on the ground and in orbit. Small but persistent errors in those models, compounded over time, can translate into navigational inaccuracies. As the rate of rotational change itself changes, those models must be continuously revised.⁵

Caveats and Open Questions

The researchers are transparent about the limitations of their methodology. Deriving day-length changes from foraminifera fossils requires a chain of inferences: from isotope ratios to sea levels, from sea levels to ice volumes, and from ice volumes to rotation rates. Each step carries uncertainty, and the deep-learning model, however sophisticated, is only as good as the data it processes.¹

Christian Bizouard, an astrogeophysicist at the International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service in France, noted that Earth's core activity remains nearly impossible to predict. Any projection about future rotational change depends on assumptions about core dynamics that current science cannot fully resolve.⁷

Other unresolved questions include the long-term effect of groundwater depletion on rotational dynamics, the potential role of deep-ocean circulation changes, and whether atmospheric mass redistribution caused by shifting weather patterns contributes meaningfully at multi-decadal scales. 

Future research using higher-resolution sediment cores and improved geodynamic models may refine these findings, or challenge some of their assumptions.

Beyond Temperature: Rethinking What Climate Change Does

Public understanding of climate change tends to focus on temperature records, sea-level projections and extreme weather events. This research points to a broader and more unsettling truth: human activity is now altering the physics of the planet itself.

Geophysicist Duncan Agnew put it plainly in comments following his 2024 Nature paper. Humanity, he said, had "done something that affects, measurably, the rotation rate of the entire Earth."⁸ 

That statement is not hyperbole. It is a finding published in peer-reviewed journals, supported by satellite geodesy, fossil chemistry and deep-learning modelling applied to 3.6 million years of data.

The interconnections are striking. Carbon emissions warm the atmosphere. A warmer atmosphere melts ice. Meltwater redistributes mass across the globe. That redistribution slows a planet four and a half billion years old. Each step in that chain is measurable. Together, they describe an influence that no previous civilisation has exerted.

Conclusion: Time, Physics and the Human Footprint

There is a particular quality to the claim that humans have altered Earth's rotation. It moves the climate crisis out of the domain of weather and economics and into the domain of planetary mechanics. The day itself, which for 3.6 million years changed only when natural forces of ice ages and orbital cycles compelled it, is now changing because of us.

That change remains invisible without instruments. Judah Levine, a physicist at the National Institute of Standards and Technology, has noted that everyday life is not sensitive at the millisecond level.⁵ 

The person catching the 7 am train will not notice. But the GPS receiver calculating where that train sits on the track will, eventually, need to account for a slightly longer day than the one its model assumed.

The deeper significance is not logistical. It is conceptual. When the Quaternary's great ice ages waxed and waned in response to orbital shifts, they did so over tens of thousands of years. The current rate of rotational change, driven over decades by the burning of fossil fuels, has already exceeded what those vast natural cycles produced. If emissions remain high, scientists project that rate will double by 2100.¹

What remains unknown is whether there are thresholds, points at which the cascading feedbacks between ice loss, sea level, polar motion and Earth's interior dynamics produce changes that outpace current projections. The foraminifera in their ocean-floor sediment recorded every ice age for millions of years. They are now recording something that has no precedent in their long archive. 

What that record will show to researchers a century from now depends, in no small part, on choices being made today.

References

1. University of Vienna: Climate change slows Earth's spin, day lengthening unprecedented in 3.6 million years (2026)

2. Phys.org: Climate change is slowing Earth's spin at unprecedented rate compared to past 3.6 million years (2026)

3. Smithsonian Magazine: Melting polar ice sheets are slowing Earth's rotation (2024)

4. Newsweek: Earth's rotation is changing at a speed not seen in 3.6 million years (2026)

5. NBC News: Melting ice is slowing Earth's spin, shifting its axis and influencing its inner core (2024)

6. Euronews: Unprecedented in the past 3.6 million years, how human-made climate change is making days longer (2026)

7. NBC News: Melting polar ice is slowing the Earth's rotation, with possible consequences for timekeeping (2024)

8. Nature: A global timekeeping problem postponed by global warming, Duncan Agnew (2024)

9. EurekAlert: Climate change slows Earth's spin, day lengthening unprecedented in 3.6 million years (2026)

10. Gizmodo: Earth's spin is slowing at a pace not seen in millions of years (2026)

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The Invisible Front: How War Is Burning the Climate - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

Armed conflict releases hundreds of millions of tonnes of greenhouse gases, yet militaries operate almost entirely 
outside global climate accounting

Key Points

Global military activity accounts for an estimated 5.5% of total greenhouse gas emissions, placing it fourth among the world's largest national emitters. 1 Russia's three-year war in Ukraine has generated roughly 230 million tonnes of CO₂ equivalent, more than the combined annual output of Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia. 6 The first 120 days of Israel's campaign in Gaza produced emissions exceeding the annual output of 26 nations, with reconstruction projected to add tens of millions of tonnes more. 9 Military emissions reporting was exempted under the 1997 Kyoto Protocol after US pressure; the 2015 Paris Agreement made reporting voluntary, and most countries still disclose nothing. 12 Post-war reconstruction is one of the largest hidden carbon costs of conflict: rebuilding Syria's damaged housing alone is projected to release around 22 million tonnes of CO₂. 15 Rising defence budgets compete directly with climate finance; global military spending hit a record $2.7 trillion in 2024, while the $100 billion annual climate finance pledge to developing nations remains unmet. 3

The burning began in the dark. 

In February 2022, as Russian armoured columns crossed the Ukrainian border and artillery shells tore open industrial facilities along the Donbas, a different kind of damage was accumulating, invisible but measurable: the carbon footprint of a major land war in the 21st century. 

Within weeks, researchers at a small Dutch-based non-profit, the Initiative on GHG Accounting of War, began logging what no international climate body was required to track. 

Within seven months, they had documented at least 100 million tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent released into the atmosphere. The equivalent, they noted, of the Netherlands' entire annual output.

That calculation was only the beginning. By the third anniversary of Russia's full-scale invasion in February 2025, total war-related emissions had reached 230 million tonnes of CO₂ equivalent, comparable to the combined yearly output of four Central European nations. ⁶ 

The figure encompasses battlefield fuel use, the burning of forests and agricultural land along the front lines, the destruction of energy infrastructure, and the airspace rerouting that has forced civilian aircraft onto longer, more fuel-intensive paths across a continent. It does not yet include the enormous carbon cost of rebuilding what was destroyed.

Ukraine has become the most closely studied climate casualty of modern warfare. But the dynamics playing out across its scorched plains and shattered cities are not unique. From Gaza to the Sahel, from Myanmar's contested borderlands to the oil fields of Libya, armed conflict is quietly generating greenhouse gas emissions on a scale that existing international frameworks are simply not designed to count. War, it turns out, has a carbon footprint, and it is enormous.

The Scale of the Problem

Researchers at the Conflict and Environment Observatory and Scientists for Global Responsibility published a landmark estimate in 2022: the world's militaries, taken together, account for roughly 5.5% of total global greenhouse gas emissions. ¹ 

If armies and defence industries were a single country, they would rank as the world's fourth-largest emitter, behind only China, the United States, and India, but ahead of Russia. That figure, the researchers noted, covers only peacetime operations and the supply chains that sustain them. The additional emissions generated by active conflict were not included.

Quantifying those conflict emissions is far harder than it sounds. Satellite imagery can detect fires; chemical sensors can identify pollutants; proxy indicators, including fuel consumption records, weapons delivery logs, and damage assessments, can fill some gaps. But the data is fragmentary, access to conflict zones is restricted, and the methodologies for estimating wartime emissions are still being developed. A further complication is that destruction of industrial infrastructure often temporarily reduces civilian emissions, making it easy to misread a country at war as cleaner than it was before. ¹⁶ 

The actual picture, once fires, reconstruction, and military fuel use are included, points firmly in the other direction.

Wartime emissions compare unfavourably with sectors the public knows well. The global aviation industry produces approximately 2.5% of annual CO₂ emissions. The entire military sector, at 5.5%, is roughly double that. Cement production, one of industry's most notorious emitters, accounts for around 8%. Shipping contributes about 2.9%. War, in other words, belongs in the same league as heavy industry, yet it appears in almost no national climate account. ²

Not all forms of warfare generate equal emissions. Mechanised land war, with its fuel-hungry tanks, armoured personnel carriers, and artillery supply chains, is among the most carbon-intensive. Aerial bombing campaigns add enormously to that total: a single modern fighter jet burns through tonnes of fuel per sortie, and the industrial production of precision-guided munitions is itself highly energy-intensive. 

Research presented at a 2025 American Academy of Arts and Sciences roundtable explored whether lighter technologies, such as drones and cyberattacks, might reduce a conflict's carbon footprint over time. The tentative conclusion was that, while individual strikes may emit less, the combination of more frequent use and the eventual need to rebuild what such weapons destroy will likely offset any efficiency gains. ¹⁷

Two Conflicts, One Planet

In Ukraine, war has become the largest single source of the country's carbon emissions. A 2025 assessment by the Initiative on GHG Accounting of War found that 36% of all war-related greenhouse gases came directly from military activity, including fuel burned by tanks, jets, and supply vehicles, plus the steel, concrete, and explosives used to construct and maintain hundreds of kilometres of frontline fortifications. ⁷ 

Another 27% is attributable to reconstruction activity already underway. The rest is distributed across energy infrastructure destruction, civilian aviation rerouting, and the displacement of refugees across Europe.

The fires are among the most alarming findings. In 2024 alone, roughly 965,000 hectares of Ukrainian land burned, more than twice the total area burnt across the entire European Union that same year. Landscape fires along the front lines accounted for 48.7 million tonnes of CO₂, a 113% increase on the preceding two years. ⁸ 

The fires result from a lethal combination: artillery-sparked blazes during dry summer conditions, climate-driven heat extremes, and the practical impossibility of firefighting in active combat zones. Climate change and the war are amplifying each other.

In Gaza, the carbon arithmetic is compressed into a far smaller geography. Researchers from Queen Mary University of London and Lancaster University published a study in early 2024 finding that the first 120 days of fighting generated between 420,000 and 652,000 tonnes of CO₂ equivalent from direct military activity alone, more than the annual emissions of 26 individual countries. ⁹ 

When pre-war construction, such as tunnel infrastructure, and projected post-war reconstruction are factored in, the total rises to more than 61 million tonnes. That number exceeds the combined annual emissions of Sweden and Portugal.

The reconstruction estimate is significant. By January 2024, between 36% and 45% of buildings in Gaza had been destroyed or damaged. Rebuilding 100,000 damaged structures using conventional techniques would generate at least 30 million tonnes of greenhouse gases, equivalent to New Zealand's annual output. ¹⁰ 

Cement and steel, the fundamental materials of urban reconstruction, are two of the most carbon-intensive industries on earth. Every bombed city carries within it a future emission debt.

Beyond Ukraine and Gaza, emissions from conflicts in Myanmar, the Sahel, Yemen, and the Democratic Republic of Congo receive far less scientific attention, not because they are small but because monitoring them is even harder. The DRC, for instance, has lost vast tracts of tropical forest to the pressures of prolonged conflict and displacement, releasing stored carbon on a scale that is only partially captured by satellite systems. 

Researchers who gathered at the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 2025 warned explicitly that smaller but persistent conflicts were being systematically overlooked in global emissions accounting. ¹⁷

Black Rain and Poisoned Ground

When a fuel depot is struck by a missile, the immediate result is a fireball visible from kilometres away. The longer-term result is more insidious. Large-scale hydrocarbon fires, and the war in Ukraine has produced hundreds of them, generate enormous plumes of black carbon, a mix of soot and chemical particulates that absorbs solar radiation and accelerates atmospheric warming. 

These plumes can travel thousands of kilometres. Research on the 1991 Gulf War oil fires, which consumed roughly 700 Kuwaiti wells over nine months, found that the resulting soot contributed to the accelerated melting of Tibetan glaciers, thousands of kilometres from Kuwait. ¹⁶ 

The fires contributed more than 2% of global fossil fuel CO₂ emissions in that single year.

Urban bombardment creates analogous contamination on a smaller but more geographically concentrated scale. When buildings collapse, they release decades of stored materials: asbestos, heavy metals, PCBs, and fuel residues. In Gaza, a preliminary assessment by the United Nations Environment Programme in June 2024 found that approximately 37 million tonnes of debris had accumulated, contaminating soil and groundwater with toxic substances. ¹¹ 

These contaminants disrupt soil chemistry in ways that reduce long-term land productivity, effectively converting farmland into dead zones for years or decades.

Explosions themselves alter soil structure. The detonation of high explosives compacts soil, fragments its chemistry, and introduces heavy metals, including lead, copper, and zinc from shell casings, into the ground at concentrations that inhibit plant growth and leach into groundwater. 

In Ukraine, ammunition containing heavy metals has contaminated agricultural land across some of the country's most productive farming regions. Ukraine's agriculture sector accounts for around 60% of the country's exports; the long-term damage to that soil represents an economic and ecological loss that extends far beyond the current war. ⁸

Water systems are particularly vulnerable. In Gaza, the destruction of eight wastewater treatment plants, of which six had been damaged or destroyed by May 2024, resulted in an estimated 130,000 cubic metres of raw sewage being discharged daily into the Mediterranean Sea. ¹⁰ 

The groundwater beneath Gaza, already stressed by decades of over-extraction, has been further contaminated by munitions residues and the collapse of sanitation infrastructure. The Mediterranean plume from such discharge carries biological and chemical pollutants into shared regional waters, crossing borders regardless of political agreements.

The Carbon Cost of Destruction

The destruction of cities is a form of carbon release that operates on a vast but largely uncounted scale. Buildings, bridges, pipelines, and power stations represent embodied carbon, the cumulative emissions produced when they were first manufactured and constructed. When they are bombed, that embodied carbon does not disappear; it joins the ongoing atmospheric ledger as debris management and reconstruction demand yet more energy. 

Clearing the rubble from Aleppo and Homs alone, according to estimates by the Conflict and Environment Observatory, would require more than a million truck journeys. ¹⁶ 

Each of those journeys burns diesel. Each load likely contains hazardous materials.

Modern cities, precisely because they concentrate so much energy infrastructure, are acutely vulnerable to this form of cascading damage. The bombing of electricity grids, transformer stations, gas pipelines, and district heating systems does not merely deprive civilians of warmth and light. It forces the substitution of dirtier, less efficient energy sources, including diesel generators, wood burning, and coal-fired backup systems, often for years after the fighting has stopped. 

In eastern Ukraine, chemical factories, oil refineries, and coal processing facilities have been among the most heavily targeted sites. The resulting toxic releases have contaminated the Dnipro river basin and the Black Sea. ²⁰

Damage to dam and water management infrastructure creates the longest-lasting environmental cascades. The destruction of the Kakhovka dam in Ukraine in June 2023 released a torrent of contaminated water across a vast agricultural floodplain, destroyed riparian ecosystems, and deposited an unknown volume of munitions residues and industrial pollutants into the lower Dnipro and the Black Sea. The ecological recovery from an event of that magnitude is measured in decades, not years.

The Long Carbon Tail of Reconstruction

Post-war reconstruction is, in many respects, the most underappreciated chapter of war's climate impact. The Iraq War between 2003 and 2008 was responsible for an estimated 141 million tonnes of CO₂ equivalent, according to a study by Oil Change International. In that same period, only 21 EU member states individually produced more emissions than the war itself generated. ¹⁸ 

Much of that total came not from the fighting but from the logistics, fuel supply chains, and the early phases of reconstruction.

Syria's civil war, which has left roughly 60% of urban infrastructure damaged or destroyed, carries an estimated reconstruction emission debt of 22 million tonnes of CO₂ for housing alone, not counting roads, power stations, schools, or hospitals. ¹⁵ 

In practice, reconstruction in conflict-affected countries has rarely incorporated climate considerations. Iraq and Syria both relied heavily on oil revenues and conventional construction, locking in carbon-intensive infrastructure for another generation. Gas flaring, in which excess petroleum gas is simply burned off rather than captured, intensified in Libya, Syria, and Yemen during and after their respective conflicts, a trend that has continued long after the fighting receded.

Ukraine presents what may be the most consequential reconstruction opportunity yet seen. President Zelensky has spoken of needing at least $5 billion per month for rebuilding. The international community has been debating whether that rebuilding could be structured around clean energy, energy efficiency, and decentralised renewable systems rather than the gas-dependent grid Ukraine relied on before the war. 

Proponents argue the war presents a rare chance to leapfrog fossil fuel infrastructure entirely. ⁷ Sceptics note that the immediate pressure to restore heat, light, and industrial capacity tends to overwhelm long-term planning, and that international reconstruction funds have historically moved far more slowly than the carbon-intensive imperative to rebuild fast.

The Reporting Gap

In 1997, as diplomats in Kyoto negotiated what would become the world's first binding climate treaty, the Pentagon lobbied hard for an exemption. Military emissions, US officials argued, could not be disclosed without jeopardising national security, revealing the locations and readiness of forces to potential adversaries. 

The lobbying worked. The Kyoto Protocol excluded international military operations from national emissions totals and allowed countries to group domestic military emissions with civilian categories, obscuring the true military share. ¹²

The 2015 Paris Agreement technically ended the formal exemption. In practice, it replaced mandatory exclusion with voluntary disclosure, which amounts to much the same thing. Under the Paris framework, countries may report their military emissions but are not required to do so. According to the Military Emissions Gap organisation, which tracks reported data submitted to the UNFCCC, only four countries provide detailed disaggregated military fuel data. ¹³ 

A 2025 report by Scientists for Global Responsibility found that almost all official military emissions figures, even for countries with comparatively strong reporting practices, cover less than 10% of their actual military carbon footprint.

The practical result is that a sector producing an estimated 5.5% of global emissions operates in almost complete statistical darkness. Researchers working on the IPCC's Sixth Assessment Report have noted that the scenarios used to model future climate trajectories do not include a quantitative assessment of military spending's impact on CO₂ emissions. 

A 2025 peer-reviewed study in a leading environmental journal found that events such as the US-led War on Terror and Russia's invasion of Ukraine led to measurable increases in global CO₂ emission intensity, estimating that military spending growth accounted for 27% of the total change in emission intensity between 1995 and 2023. ⁴ 

That finding has not yet been incorporated into mainstream climate modelling.

Several credible proposals exist to address the gap. The Conflict and Environment Observatory has published a framework for mandatory military emissions reporting. Academics from Oxford, Lancaster, Columbia, and Harvard have co-signed calls for the UNFCCC to require explicit military reporting in national inventories. The European Parliament has called for transparent reporting by member states. ¹⁴ 

None of these proposals has so far produced binding change.

Energy Markets and the War Premium

Russia's invasion of Ukraine reshaped European energy policy faster than any Green New Deal had managed. As Russian gas supplies were severed or sanctioned, European governments scrambled for alternatives, reopening coal plants, racing to build liquefied natural gas import terminals, and accelerating renewable deployments at a pace that would have seemed impossible in 2021. 

The short-term reaction was unambiguously dirty: coal consumption rose sharply in Germany and across Eastern Europe in 2022 and 2023. The medium-term trajectory, however, pointed toward a faster clean energy transition, driven by the hard lesson that energy dependence on an aggressor is a strategic liability.

Whether that acceleration will persist is an open question. Geopolitical instability has a well-documented tendency to push governments toward energy security at the expense of climate commitments. Oil Change International estimated that Russian fossil fuel exports earned approximately €58 billion in just the first two months after the invasion, with the EU accounting for €39 billion of that total. ¹⁹ 

The revenue funded the continuation of the war. European dependence on Russian gas was not merely an environmental failure; it was a strategic one, and the two failures turned out to be inseparable.

Military supply chains are themselves highly carbon-intensive. Producing a modern tank requires enormous quantities of steel. Artillery shells consume both steel and explosives. Explosives production is energy-intensive and relies on chemical processes that generate significant nitrous oxide emissions. 

The US military is the world's largest institutional consumer of fossil fuels, and its supply chain emissions, covering the weapons and equipment it procures, roughly double its direct operational footprint. ⁵ 

As NATO members race to rearm, those supply chain emissions are multiplying across the alliance.

The Economic Displacement

Every dollar spent on a missile is a dollar not spent on a solar panel. The relationship is not quite that simple, but it is not entirely metaphorical either. Global military spending hit a record $2.7 trillion in 2024. In the same year, the long-standing pledge by wealthy nations to provide $100 billion annually in climate finance to developing countries remained unfulfilled, despite having been due since 2020. ³ 

The contrast is stark: the same governments that have consistently failed to meet their climate finance commitments spend 50 times as much on their militaries every year.

Rising defence budgets are not merely displacing climate spending at the national level. They are generating additional emissions through the investments themselves. Research by macroeconomist Balázs Markó at Bocconi University found that for every percentage point increase in military spending, total emissions rise by between 0.9% and 2%. ² 

NATO's 2025 commitment to a target of 5% of GDP for each member nation, if met, would double the alliance's combined military expenditure between 2025 and 2030, generating an estimated additional 840 million tonnes of emissions compared with a scenario where spending remained at 2% of GDP.

Climate change itself is increasingly identified as a driver of future conflict, creating the feedback loop that many researchers now consider the most dangerous long-term dynamic in the field. Water scarcity, crop failure, extreme heat, and displacement are already documented contributors to instability in the Sahel, in the Horn of Africa, and across parts of the Middle East. 

If warming continues to generate the conditions that make conflict more likely, and conflict generates the emissions that accelerate warming, the system becomes self-reinforcing in the most dangerous possible way.

Recovery, Accountability, and What Comes Next

How long do ecosystems take to recover from the damage of war? The honest answer is: it depends on the damage, and sometimes the answer is never. Vietnam's forests took decades to partially recover from the aerial spraying of Agent Orange, a herbicide that destroyed an estimated 4.5 million acres of forest and farmland and left soil contamination that persists today. 

Ukraine's nature reserves, more than 12,000 square kilometres of which have become active combat zones, will require at least 15 years to recover from the direct physical damage alone, according to preliminary Ukrainian government estimates. ²⁰ 

The chemical contamination and unexploded ordnance that now covers roughly 30% of the country's territory complicate that timeline substantially.

There are examples where environmental restoration has been incorporated into post-conflict recovery. El Salvador, after its civil war, invested in watershed management and reforestation as part of a broader rural recovery programme. Rwanda made systematic forest restoration central to its post-genocide agricultural strategy. Bosnia invested in mine clearance partly because the contaminated land was economically unusable. These are partial models, not templates. ¹⁶ 

None of them operated at the scale and complexity that Ukraine, Syria, or Gaza now present.

International legal frameworks for environmental accountability in war remain weak. The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court recognises widespread, long-term, and severe damage to the natural environment as a potential war crime, but prosecutions on those grounds are extremely rare. 

A group of researchers at Goldsmiths and the Palestinian Environmental NGOs Network has called for Israel to be investigated under Rome Statute provisions for systematic agricultural destruction in Gaza. Ukrainian officials are building a reparations case against Russia partly on climate damage grounds, estimating total climate liability at more than $42 billion using a social cost of carbon of $185 per tonne. ⁶ 

Both cases face the same obstacle: no binding international mechanism exists to adjudicate climate damages caused by war.

Environmental monitoring during conflict is emerging as a potential new area for cooperation. Satellite systems operated by the European Union, including the Sentinel-5P instrument used to track atmospheric pollutants, have already produced detailed data on air quality changes over Gaza and Ukraine. 

Researchers using those tools have tracked spikes in carbon monoxide, sulphur dioxide, and methane as infrastructure burns and waste management collapses. The science is ahead of the policy: the data exists, the methodologies are improving, but no international body is yet required to act on what the satellites see.

Conclusion: The Unanswered Question

There is a particular kind of cognitive dissonance at work in contemporary climate politics. Governments negotiate emissions cuts, publish net-zero targets, and announce clean energy subsidies while simultaneously increasing military budgets, fighting wars, and exempting their armed forces from the reporting requirements they impose on every other sector. The gap between what is measured and what matters has rarely been wider.

The research being produced now, from the meticulous carbon accounting of Ukraine's war to the satellite studies of Gaza's air quality, represents a genuine scientific advance. For the first time, it is becoming possible to measure, in near real time, what armed conflict costs the atmosphere. That knowledge is valuable. Whether it will translate into accountability, into changed behaviour at the negotiating table or on the battlefield, is a different question entirely.

The atmosphere does not distinguish between a tonne of CO₂ from a coal plant and a tonne from a burning oil depot struck by a cruise missile. Both warm the planet. Both narrow the window for the action the IPCC says is still possible. If the world is serious about climate, it will eventually have to reckon with the emissions it has been most reluctant to count. 

The question is whether that reckoning comes in time to matter, or only after the damage has been done.

References

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