Our rising Oceans - Julian Cribb

Surviving the 21st Century - Julian Cribb

AUTHOR Julian Cribb AM is an Australian science writer and author of seven books on the human existential emergency. His latest book is How to Fix a Broken Planet (Cambridge University Press, 2023)

In what must rate as one of the worst forseeable disasters ever to confront humanity, the remorseless rise in the oceans will menace the homes and livelihoods of a billion people before the end of the century.

From 1900 to 2018, global sea levels rose by about 20cm (a long-term average of +1.7mm/yr), but measurements since 1993 (when global satellite data first became available) show the rate of global mean sea-level rise then doubled to +3.3 mm/yr - and has since accelerated to +4.4 mm/yr.

However world sea levels do not rise uniformly like water in a bathtub. In a recent study of worst case scenarios, scientists warned that some coastal communities may face total rises as high as 9 or 10 metres by 2100.

“By 2100 almost 45% of the global coastline would experience sea level increasess above the global mean of 4.2 m, with up to 9–10 m for the East China Sea, Japan and North European coastal areas.

“Up to 86% of coastal locations would face sea level rises above 3 m by 2100, compared to 33% currently,” they said.

Figure 1. Global sea level rise 1993-2024. Source: NASA

Sea level rise was listed in the Global Risks Report 2025 as one of the critical changes to the Earth System that together constitute the third greatest threat to humanity in the coming decade. The United Nations (UN) has rated it “a global crisis” that is already impacting around 1 billion people worldwide.

Around one third of global sea level rise is due to thermal expansion as ocean water heats and expands and roughly two thirds is due to faster melting of land-based ice, such as glaciers and ice sheets. The ocean is currently absorbing more than 90 percent of the increased atmospheric heat caused by human activity, turning much of this directly into rise.

Human activity also affects sea level rise by pumping out groundwater, which is released into rivers, adding to sea level rise while at the same time causing coastal cities to sink. Over the period 1993-2024, we pumped out an estimated 2.15 billion tonnes of groundwater a year, 80% of which ended up in the oceans. This has the compound effect of causing many cities to sink while seas rise.

Megacities which are physically sinking while oceans grow include major centres such as: Jakarta (pop 12m), Manila (16m), Dhaka (25m), Mumbai (23m), Bangkok (11m), Ho Chi Minh (11m), Tianjin (14m), Shanghai (31m) Yangon (7m), Istanbul (16m), Houston (2.3m) and Lagos (18m).

Dam building has a transient opposite effect by holding back freshwater from reaching the sea, chiefly in the dam-filling phase.

Just as the surface of the Earth is uneven, the surface of the ocean is also not level, being higher or lower in various places —in other words, sea levels do not change at the same rate globally. This means sea level rise is greater in some areas than others. Sea heights are also affected by transient climatic impacts such as El Nino. 

Furthermore, sea levels, measured at the shore, also depend on whether the landmass itself is rising or sinking due to plate tectonics. This results in a very uneven and complex picture of sea level rise globally, as the following map indicates:

Figure 2. Sea levels are rising faster in some places than others due to a combination of effects, both natural and man-made. Source: NOAA

In areas coated with ice, the melting of glaciers and ice caps causes the land surface to rebound upwards when relieved of the weight of frozen water. In these areas (blue down arrows) the sea level appears to recede as the land rises higher, though in fact the land locally is merely rising faster than the sea.

One of the most frightening, unknowable factors, in the equation is that sea level rise can change by metres in a matter of decades. It is well documented that, after the huge rise (120-140m+) at the end of the last Ice Age, the oceans actually reached a height 4 or 5 metres above where they are today, then settled back in a matter of centuries to their present trend.

However, British archaeologists, excavating and carefully dating several buildings from post-Roman (Dark Age) London, found evidence for a 4 metre sea level rise occurring over just 70 years, between AD 430 and 500. This indicates that sea levels can rise (and fall), unexpectedly and far more sharply than predicted by trends, over relatively short spans of time. 

The cause of such a sea surge might be something like the sudden collapse of an ice cliff holding back a major glacier. This is what scientists now fear in the cases of the Thwaites Glacier and West Antarctic Ice Sheet. Or it could be due to a major isostatic rebound caused by a melting glacier.

Currently at least 271 of the world’s 530 large (1m+) cities are located on coastlines, and around 15 per cent of the human population (1.25 billion people) lives within 15kms of the coast. Rather than fleeing the danger, humans – like lemmings – are in fact moving coastwards in ever-growing numbers.

The impacts of sea level rise are well understood, and many coastal authorities are taking steps to minimise them, whereas most national governments are taking too little action, too late. The impacts include:

• Increased height of storm surges and flooding during hurricanes, typhoons and storms

• Increased frequency of flooding in urban areas, affecting more homes and businesses, sewage systems etc

• Reduced coastal food production due to salination of land, flooding and salt intrusion into groundwater

• Greater damage to roads, bridges, buildings and other infrastructure, along with the refusal of insurance coverage in affected areas and higher taxes.

• Loss of mangroves, coral reefs and coastal wetlands which shield the land from storm damage

• Damage to homes, jobs and employment in coastal regions. Higher taxes to cover the cost of repair and prevention.

• Coastal erosion of beaches, silting of waterways, major changes in fish populations and other marine wildlife.

• Health risks from flooding of low lying areas due to dirty water, more mosquitoes etc.

Predicting sea level rise is one of the hardest and most complex of scientific tasks – and disturbing new research indicates that it may have been significantly underestimated by the models it is based on. This would put 31–37% more land and 48–68% more people at risk than currently thought, say authors Katharina Seeger and Philip Minderhoud.

Meanwhile, Canute-like, Donald Trump continues to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the problem, despite the fact that his own residence, Mar-a-Lago, will be flooded for two thirds of the year by the 2040s – and under 4 metres of sea by the end of the Century. Trump’s reaction was to shut down scientific research that exposes such unpalatable facts and cynically claim that sea level rise meant “more oceanfront property”.

Sea level rise is not preventable in the short term, as this would require cooling the whole planet to post-Ice Age temperatures. However, the worst impacts can be reduced with sound local planning and actions.

It is another test of whether our civilisation is fit to survive or not.

Julian Cribb Articles

• Will climate change put women in the ascendant?
• When the water runs out...
• The great dying
• Australia issues ‘terrifying’ climate warning
• 'Died of a delusion': the fate of modern civilisation?
• Collapse is near, scientists warn
• De-icing the Earth: a fatal human choice. 
• Rivers of Death
• Unlike politicians, thermometers do not lie
• Welcome to BunkerWorld: Home of the rich and fearful
•  Wisdom of the elders
•  The black work of Big Oil
•  Stealing the Breath of Life
•  The Earth Uncloaked - a catastrophe in slow motion 
  
•  Military experts warn of climate wars
•  Tackling the Earth Emergency
•  A distracted world marches steadily towards catastrophe

The Double-Edged Algorithm: How Artificial Intelligence Is Both Fighting and Fuelling the Climate Crisis - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

Is the world's most powerful technology an instrument of decarbonisation
or an accelerant of the crisis it promises to solve?

Key Points

Global data centre electricity consumption reached 415 TWh in 2024, roughly 1.5% of world electricity use, and is projected to nearly double to 945 TWh by 2030, driven primarily by AI workloads. 1 While AI demonstrably improves renewable energy forecasting and grid balancing, tech companies' climate disclosures rely heavily on market-based accounting that can obscure rising location-based emissions. 2 A typical large data centre consumes 300,000 gallons of water per day, and more than 160 new AI facilities have been built in water-stressed regions of the United States since 2022. 3 AI is enabling fossil fuel companies to boost extraction yields by up to 15%, generating so-called "enabled emissions" that are largely absent from corporate climate disclosures. 4 The environmental costs of AI hardware, including cobalt and rare earth mining, fall disproportionately on communities in the Global South, while e-waste from accelerated chip cycles is growing five times faster than documented recycling. 5 Independent analysts warn that tech sector climate pledges lack credibility without regulatory enforcement, standardised carbon labelling for digital services, and mandatory Scope 3 disclosure covering enabled downstream emissions. 6

A Machine That Runs on the World

In a windowless building on the edge of a drought-afflicted county in Arizona, tens of thousands of processors hum without pause, handling everything from product recommendations and legal contract drafts to the modelling of atmospheric systems that may determine the habitability of entire coastlines.

The building is a data centre, and it is, in the language of its operators, merely "infrastructure".

That word — infrastructure — does a great deal of work.

It smooths the edges off a structure that consumes as much electricity as a small city, draws hundreds of thousands of gallons of water from a strained aquifer each day, and sits at the centre of one of the defining tensions of the climate era: the question of whether artificial intelligence, and the digital economy that sustains it, is helping humanity escape catastrophic warming, or quietly making the problem worse.

There is no clean answer.

The evidence, assembled from a growing body of peer-reviewed research, international energy reports, corporate disclosures, and the testimony of engineers, climate scientists, and community advocates, suggests that the relationship between information technology and climate change is neither the salvation the industry promises nor the simple villain its critics describe.

It is something messier, and more consequential.

The Scale of the Problem

Global data centres consumed approximately 415 terawatt-hours of electricity in 2024, representing around 1.5 per cent of the world's total electricity use, according to a landmark report by the International Energy Agency (IEA).¹

That figure, significant on its own, is growing at roughly 12 per cent a year, and the IEA projects it will reach approximately 945 TWh by 2030, an amount roughly equivalent to the total annual electricity consumption of Japan today.¹

AI is the primary driver of that growth.

In 2024, AI-specific servers accounted for an estimated 15 per cent of total data centre energy demand, a share projected to reach 35 to 50 per cent by 2030 as generative AI workloads proliferate.²

A single AI-focused hyperscale data centre, the IEA notes, consumes as much electricity as 100,000 households; the largest now under construction will require twenty times that.

To put those numbers in economic terms: global investment in data centres nearly doubled between 2022 and 2024, reaching half a trillion US dollars in a single year.¹

The pace of this build-out is outrunning the decarbonisation of the grids that power it.

The IEA estimates that natural gas and coal together will meet more than 40 per cent of the additional electricity demanded by data centres through to 2030.³

In the United States, natural gas currently supplies more than 40 per cent of data centre electricity, and it remains the largest source of additional supply as demand surges over the coming five years.³

In China, where the majority of data centres are located in the coal-heavy east, coal accounts for close to 70 per cent of the current data centre electricity mix.³

Training, Inference, and the Carbon Ledger

The carbon costs of AI are distributed unevenly across its life cycle, and the full accounting is rarely made visible in corporate disclosures.

Training a large model like GPT-4 has been estimated to consume approximately 50 gigawatt-hours of electricity, an energy-intensive but one-off event.²

Inference — the continuous process of responding to user queries — accounts for an estimated 80 to 90 per cent of total AI computing work, and therefore forms the dominant share of ongoing energy consumption.²

A single text prompt to a large language model such as Llama 3.1 at 405 billion parameters consumes roughly 6,700 joules; a short AI-generated video can require more than three million joules.²

Multiplied across billions of daily interactions, those figures begin to accumulate in ways that are difficult to track and that most technology companies have shown little enthusiasm for disclosing with precision.

A 2025 study published in a peer-reviewed journal estimated that AI systems may carry a carbon footprint equivalent to that of New York City, with associated water consumption potentially rivalling the world's annual consumption of bottled water.⁷

The lifecycle footprint extends further still, encompassing chip fabrication, the energy-intensive mining of rare earths and critical minerals used in GPU production, and the eventual disposal of hardware that is rapidly made obsolete by the pace of AI development.

According to the United Nations Global E-Waste Monitor, the world produced a record 62 million tonnes of electronic waste in 2022, up 82 per cent from 2010, and is on track to generate 82 million tonnes by 2030, growing five times faster than documented recycling.⁵

Promises in the Ledger: What AI Does for the Climate

The case for AI as a climate instrument begins with energy itself.

Grid operators face an increasingly complex challenge: integrating intermittent renewable sources, particularly wind and solar, into electricity systems designed for predictable, dispatchable generation.

AI-powered weather forecasting has produced measurable improvements in this domain.

Google DeepMind's WeatherNext platform, developed in collaboration with Google Research, can produce accurate forecasts up to 15 days in advance in minutes, compared to the hours previously required by computational weather models.⁸

Working with the UK's National Grid Electricity System Operator and Open Climate Fix, a non-profit research group, DeepMind's solar nowcasting models have helped reduce large forecast errors by 10 per cent over a 24-to-48-hour horizon, a result that allows grid operators to reduce their reliance on carbon-emitting backup generation held in reserve.⁹

Machine learning systems developed for wind forecasting can project power output up to 36 hours in advance, enabling operators to manage renewable variability with greater confidence and integrate clean energy more aggressively.¹⁰

National Grid's own control room has recorded a 33 per cent improvement in the accuracy of solar generation forecasts over recent years, attributable in part to machine-learning applications.⁹

In climate science itself, AI is accelerating the processing of vast observational datasets, contributing to improvements in atmospheric modelling and extreme weather prediction.

These are real gains, and their defenders argue that the carbon return on investment — the emissions avoided per unit of AI energy consumed — more than justifies the energy use in such applications.

Ben Gaiarin, a Technical Program Manager at Google DeepMind, has described this framing explicitly: a narrower cone of forecast uncertainty allows grid operators to make more aggressive use of clean energy, reducing greenhouse gas emissions and improving system stability in ways that can offset the cost of running the AI itself.

Whether that calculus holds across the full range of AI applications is a harder question, and one the industry has been slow to address rigorously.

The Transparency Deficit

Corporate sustainability reports from the major technology companies contain a peculiar structure: they present declining emissions, often achieved through market-based accounting, against a backdrop of sharply rising actual energy consumption and location-based emissions.

Under market-based accounting, companies can claim reduced emissions by purchasing renewable energy certificates or entering into power purchase agreements with clean energy providers, regardless of whether the electricity physically delivered to their facilities is clean.¹¹

The result, documented by the NewClimate Institute's 2025 Corporate Climate Responsibility Monitor, is a widening divergence between the story companies tell and the physical reality on the grid.⁶

Microsoft's location-based Scope 2 emissions, which reflect the actual carbon intensity of the electricity it consumes, more than doubled between 2020 and 2024, rising from 4.3 million metric tonnes of carbon dioxide to nearly 10 million, even as the company's market-based figures showed declining emissions over the same period.¹¹

Google's own environmental report acknowledged that a sharp increase in emissions reflected "the challenge of reducing emissions while compute intensity increases".¹²

A broader assessment by the International Telecommunication Union and the World Benchmarking Alliance, tracking 200 leading digital companies, found that Scope 3 emissions, those generated across the full value chain, including suppliers and downstream product use, are on average six times larger than Scope 1 and 2 emissions combined, yet only a fraction of companies fully disclose them.¹³

Critically absent from most corporate disclosures are what researchers call "enabled emissions": the greenhouse gases released when AI tools are deployed by fossil fuel companies to optimise extraction, pipeline management and reserve discovery.

A report by Global Witness found, on conservative estimates, that AI, the Internet of Things and cloud computing are enabling the fossil fuel industry to boost extraction yields by up to 15 per cent.⁴

Microsoft, Palantir, Amazon Web Services and other technology providers have each maintained commercial relationships with oil and gas operators, supplying tools that are used at every stage of fossil fuel production, from subsurface seismic analysis to predictive maintenance and demand forecasting.⁴

These arrangements are rarely reflected in any company's published climate commitments.

Water, Land, and the Communities Left Holding the Bill

A typical data centre consumes approximately 300,000 gallons of water per day, equivalent to the daily needs of around 1,000 households.¹⁴

Large hyperscale facilities can require up to five million gallons daily, comparable to a town of 50,000 residents.

More than 160 new AI data centres have been built across the United States in the past three years in regions already classified as water-stressed.¹⁵

In Texas, data centres are projected to consume 399 billion gallons of water annually by 2030, according to research by the Houston Advanced Research Center and the University of Houston, an amount that would draw down a reservoir the size of Lake Mead by more than five metres in a single year.¹⁶

In Spain, Amazon sought to increase its water consumption permit at three existing Aragon data centres by 48 per cent in December 2024, noting that climate change would increase cooling demand, at the same time as the region was applying to the European Union for drought relief.¹⁷

In Chile, Google paused a planned $200 million data centre after an environmental court partially reversed its permit, citing the project's reliance on the Santiago Aquifer during a drought that had persisted for fifteen years.¹⁷

Community groups in Spain have formed under the name Tu Nube Seca Mi Río — Your Cloud Is Drying My River — and are calling for a moratorium on new data centre construction in the country.

These are not marginal concerns.

An MSCI analysis of 13,558 data centre assets worldwide found that Alphabet, Amazon, Microsoft and Meta have each faced community opposition and regulatory scrutiny over water and power use, and that exposure to water scarcity is projected to worsen for many of these facilities through to 2050.¹⁸

The Governance Vacuum

The global infrastructure underpinning AI is controlled by a small number of corporations headquartered primarily in the United States and China.

That concentration of computational power is not a neutral fact.

It means that the infrastructure decisions that shape AI's climate impact, where data centres are built, how they are powered, what workloads they prioritise, are made by private actors largely beyond the reach of the multilateral climate governance mechanisms that govern other high-emission sectors.

Calls for mandatory carbon disclosure for AI systems have grown louder among researchers and regulators.

The US Securities and Exchange Commission adopted new climate disclosure rules in March 2024 requiring publicly listed companies to report emissions deemed financially material to investors, but these rules face ongoing legal challenge and do not capture the full Scope 3 picture.¹⁹

The European Commission is developing an energy efficiency labelling package for data centres, including water use metrics, with publication expected in early 2026.²⁰

China remains the only country to have incorporated water use effectiveness standards directly into its data centre building code, according to the IEA.²¹

Voluntary corporate pledges — net zero by 2030, water positive by 2030, 100 per cent renewable energy — are, as the NewClimate Institute has documented, increasingly difficult to reconcile with the trajectory of actual emissions, raising serious questions about their credibility in the absence of binding standards and independent verification.⁶

The Equity Dimension

The global AI economy extracts its materials from one part of the world, operates its infrastructure in another, and concentrates its benefits in a third.

Cobalt, required for the batteries and processors that run AI systems, is mined predominantly in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, often under conditions that have been widely described by human rights researchers as hazardous and exploitative.²²

In Baotou, Mongolia, the refining of rare earth minerals critical to chip production has created a toxic waste lake spanning more than five kilometres, contaminating surrounding ecosystems and exposing local communities to significant harm.²²

The IEA's 2025 Energy and AI report provided the first detailed estimates of the sector's critical mineral requirements, noting that the rapid expansion of AI data centres is adding to pressure on supply chains for copper, aluminium, silicon, gallium and rare earth elements already strained by the clean energy transition.²³

AI-driven climate adaptation tools, from sophisticated flood modelling to precision agriculture platforms, are most accessible to governments and corporations in high-income countries with significant computational capacity.

The frontline communities most exposed to climate impacts, predominantly in the Global South, are least likely to hold the infrastructure or institutional capacity required to deploy these tools at scale.

The question of whether digital climate tools can be designed to serve those communities, rather than merely extracting resources from them, remains largely unanswered by the industry.

The Net Balance: An Unresolved Equation

The IEA has been measured about the climate implications of data centre growth, noting that data centres will account for approximately 1 per cent of global CO₂ emissions by 2030 under its central scenario — significant, but modest relative to heavy industry, transport and buildings.²⁴

The IEA also acknowledges that if AI enables broader emissions reductions across the energy, agriculture, and industrial sectors, those savings could offset its direct footprint.

But that conditional framing depends on factors that are not guaranteed: that AI tools are deployed in emissions-reducing applications rather than efficiency-enhancing ones in high-emission industries; that clean energy scales fast enough to keep pace with AI's electricity demand; and that the rebound effects of efficiency gains, where doing something cheaply leads to doing much more of it, do not erode the savings.

The history of digital efficiency is not encouraging on the last point.

Streaming services, cloud computing and electronic commerce each promised to reduce physical consumption and travel; each also stimulated new forms of demand that expanded the overall energy footprint of the sector.

Researcher Alex de Vries of VU Amsterdam has argued that the IEA's projections may understate AI's direct energy impact, and that the sector's growing reliance on fossil fuels to bridge the gap between clean energy supply and AI demand represents "a serious risk for our ability to achieve our climate goals."²⁵

Conclusion: The Double-Edged Tool

Information technology, including AI, holds genuine promise as a force for climate mitigation.

The evidence for this is real: more accurate renewable energy forecasting, improved grid management, accelerated materials science, and better climate modelling are all credible contributions to the decarbonisation effort.

But those contributions exist alongside a growing physical footprint that is powered in significant part by fossil fuels, draws water from communities that cannot afford to lose it, externalises its material costs onto the Global South, and is deployed by some of its most powerful operators in the direct service of the fossil fuel industry.

The net balance of that ledger is not yet settled.

What is clear is that it cannot be settled by the industry alone.

The questions at stake — how AI's energy growth is governed, whether its emissions are disclosed honestly, whether its benefits are distributed equitably — are questions of public policy and democratic accountability, not corporate strategy.

Without mandatory disclosure of the full lifecycle emissions of AI systems, including Scope 3 and enabled emissions, without regulatory standards for data centre siting and water use, and without binding requirements that large-scale AI deployment be matched by verifiable clean energy, the technology sector's climate promises amount to a ledger in which the costs are borne by those least able to carry them, and the benefits flow to those least likely to be asked to account for them.

The machine keeps running.

The question is whether it will help fix the world it is helping to heat, or simply make the heating more efficient.

References

1. International Energy Agency. (2025). Energy and AI: Executive Summary. IEA.
2. AIM Multiple Research. (2025). AI Energy Consumption Statistics. AIM Multiple.
3. International Energy Agency. (2025). Energy and AI: Energy Supply for AI. IEA.
4. Global Witness. (2024). Enabled Emissions: How AI Helps to Supercharge Oil and Gas Production. Global Witness.
5. CEPR/VoxEU. (2024). An Eco-Political Economy of AI to Understand the Complexities of Its Environmental Costs. Centre for Economic Policy Research.
6. NewClimate Institute. (2025). Corporate Climate Responsibility Monitor 2025: Tech Sector. NewClimate Institute.
7. de Vries, A., & Bieser, J. (2025). The Carbon and Water Footprints of Data Centers and What This Could Mean for Artificial Intelligence. Patterns, Elsevier.
8. Google Cloud. (2025). Transforming Energy Operations with AI-Powered Weather Forecasting. Google Cloud Blog.
9. National Energy System Operator. (2023). Former DeepMind Expert's AI Tool Could Help Boost National Grid ESO's Solar Forecasts. NESO.
10. AI Time Journal. (2024). 7 Groundbreaking AI Trends Reshaping the Renewable Energy Landscape in 2024. AI Time Journal.
11. Policy Review / Internet Policy Review. (2025). Not Greenwashing, But Still… A Closer Look at Big Tech's 2025 Sustainability Reports. Internet Policy Review.
12. International Bar Association. (2024). Sustainability: Big Tech's AI Push Putting Climate Targets at Risk. IBA Global Insight.
13. International Telecommunication Union. (2025). Greening Digital Companies 2025: Monitoring Emissions and Climate Commitments. ITU.
14. Brookings Institution. (2025). AI, Data Centers, and Water. Brookings.
15. Environmental Law Institute. (2025). AI's Cooling Problem: How Data Centers Are Transforming Water Use. ELI.
16. Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. (2025). Data Drain: The Land and Water Impacts of the AI Boom. Lincoln Institute.
17. EthicalGEO. (2025). The Cloud is Drying Our Rivers: Water Usage of AI Data Centres. EthicalGEO.
18. MSCI. (2025). When AI Meets Water Scarcity: Data Centres in a Thirsty World. MSCI.
19. CEPR/VoxEU. (2024). An Eco-Political Economy of AI: Environmental Costs and Regulatory Responses. Centre for Economic Policy Research.
20. European Commission. (2025). In Focus: Data Centres — an Energy-Hungry Challenge. Directorate-General for Energy.
21. S&P Global. (2025). Beneath the Surface: Water Stress in Data Centers. S&P Global Sustainable1.
22. Human Rights Research. (2025). The Human and Environmental Impact of Artificial Intelligence. Human Rights Research.
23. Carbon Credits. (2025). How AI and Clean Energy Are Competing for Critical Minerals. Carbon Credits.
24. Carbon Brief. (2025). AI: Five Charts That Put Data-Centre Energy Use — and Emissions — into Context. Carbon Brief.
25. Scientific American. (2025). AI Will Drive Doubling of Data Center Energy Demand by 2030. Scientific American.

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Bleached and Burning: How Climate Change Is Dismantling the Great Barrier Reef - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

A Living System Under Siege

Key Points

The Great Barrier Reef has experienced six mass bleaching events since 2016, with the 2024 event causing the largest annual coral cover decline ever recorded in two of three regions. [1] Under current emissions trajectories, severe bleaching events are projected to occur annually by around 2080, and coral reefs may collapse unless global warming is held below 2°C. [2] The Reef contributes over $9 billion annually to the Australian economy and supports 77,000 full-time equivalent jobs, a value now estimated at $95 billion in total. [3] More than 70 Traditional Custodian groups hold Sea Country responsibilities across the Reef, with $51.8 million invested in Traditional Owner-led reef protection under the Reef Trust Partnership. [4] Water quality targets under the Reef 2050 plan show continued but uneven progress, with dissolved inorganic nitrogen and sediment reductions falling behind schedule. [5] Limiting global warming to 1.5°C would reduce severe bleaching events to approximately three per decade; at 2°C, all known coral refugia are projected to disappear. [6]

The Great Barrier Reef stretches for more than 2,300 kilometres along the Queensland coast, a living architecture of 2,900 individual reefs and 900 islands.

It is visible from space, older than agriculture, and until very recently described as the largest living structure on Earth.

The Great Barrier Reef is also, by any honest scientific reckoning, in serious trouble.

Since 2016, the Reef has endured six mass coral bleaching events, a frequency without precedent in the recorded history of this ecosystem. ^[1]

The 2024 event was the fifth since 2016 and carried the largest spatial footprint ever recorded, with high to extreme bleaching observed across all three regions of the marine park simultaneously for the first time.

Results from the Australian Institute of Marine Science's Long-Term Monitoring Program, published in August 2025, documented the largest annual coral cover decline in two of the three regions since monitoring began 39 years ago. ^[1]

In the Southern Great Barrier Reef, hard coral cover fell by 30.6 per cent in a single year, dropping from 38.9 per cent to 26.9 per cent and falling below the long-term regional average of 29.3 per cent. ^[7]

The summer of 2025 then brought a sixth bleaching event, constrained primarily to the north, yet notable as only the second time the Reef has experienced consecutive mass bleaching years.

The pattern repeating itself here is not merely ecological. It is civilisational.

Heat, Acid and the Architecture of Coral

To understand what is happening to the Reef, it helps to understand how a coral colony works.

A coral polyp is a small, soft-bodied animal that builds its calcium carbonate skeleton by extracting dissolved ions from surrounding seawater, a process called calcification.

Living within those tissues are microscopic algae called zooxanthellae, which provide the coral with up to 90 per cent of its energy through photosynthesis and give it its vivid colour.

When water temperatures rise by as little as one degree Celsius above the seasonal maximum and remain elevated for four or more weeks, the coral expels these algae in a thermal stress response.

Without their algal partners, corals turn ghostly white, are deprived of most of their food supply, and become susceptible to disease and starvation.

If temperatures do not recede in time, the coral dies.

Ocean acidification, driven by the absorption of atmospheric carbon dioxide into seawater, compounds this process in a second and distinct way.

As seawater becomes more acidic, the concentration of carbonate ions that corals need to build their skeletons declines, reducing calcification rates and weakening structural complexity across reef systems.

The two stressors act simultaneously, warming water straining the coral's biology while acidification undermines its architecture.

The 2024 bleaching event demonstrated the severity of this combination with devastating clarity: in protected scientific zones at One Tree Island in the southern Reef, 66 per cent of tracked coral colonies were bleached by February 2024, rising to 80 per cent by April, with 44 per cent of bleached colonies confirmed dead by May and 53 per cent by July. ^[8]

Even Acropora corals, the fast-growing branching species that had driven the recovery observed between 2017 and 2022, suffered 95 per cent mortality at some monitored locations.

It is the pace of recovery between events, or more precisely the absence of sufficient recovery time, that most alarms reef scientists.

Coral reefs typically require at least a decade to recover from a severe bleaching event.

When the next event arrives before that recovery is complete, the cumulative damage compounds, and the species composition of the reef begins to shift.

Fast-growing, thermally sensitive Acropora species are replaced by slower-growing, more heat-tolerant but structurally simpler corals, reducing biodiversity and the three-dimensional complexity that reef fish and other organisms depend upon.

Researchers have documented this shift across much of the northern and central Reef following the 2016 and 2017 bleaching events, and some scientists describe it as a regime shift — a movement toward a structurally simpler, less biodiverse system — rather than a temporary setback.

Refugia and Resilience

Not all parts of the Reef are equally vulnerable.

Areas where tidal and wind-driven mixing circulates cooler water to the surface experience less thermal stress and can function as thermal refugia, places where corals survive events that devastate neighbouring reefs.

A study applying semi-dynamic downscaling to IPCC Sixth Assessment Report climate projections found that these refugia are real and measurable, and that their persistence into the future depends critically on emissions trajectories. ^[9]

Under higher warming scenarios, however, even these strongholds eventually fail.

Research projecting refugia persistence under different warming pathways found that a loss of nearly 84 per cent of global coral refugia occurs at 1.5°C of warming, with a complete loss of remaining refugia at 2°C. ^[10]

At 3°C of warming, the concept of a thermal refugium on the Great Barrier Reef becomes scientifically untenable.

The northern regions of the Reef, exposed to strong wind mixing, currently retain more refugia than central and southern areas, but climate projections suggest that advantage will erode as ocean temperatures continue to rise.

Crown-of-thorns starfish, which prey on coral tissue and can devastate reef communities during population outbreaks, add a further layer of pressure to already-stressed systems.

The 2024 bleaching season was accompanied by cyclones, flood plumes and crown-of-thorns outbreaks simultaneously, with AIMS confirming active outbreaks on six reefs by mid-2025.

Research links crown-of-thorns outbreaks to elevated nutrient runoff from agricultural catchments, which promotes the algal blooms on which juvenile starfish feed, creating a pathway by which land-use practices directly amplify climate stress.

The Projections

The scientific community has converged on a stark set of projections for the Reef under different emissions trajectories.

At 1.5°C of global warming above pre-industrial levels, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change projects with very high confidence that between 70 and 90 per cent of the world's warm-water coral reefs will disappear. ^[11]

At 2°C, coral reefs become vanishingly rare as ecosystems.

Research modelling the Great Barrier Reef specifically found that, under a 1.5°C pathway, severe bleaching events could be reduced to approximately three per decade, providing meaningful recovery windows for remaining corals. ^[6]

Under a 2°C pathway, that frequency halves relative to a high-emissions scenario but still exceeds safe recovery windows for most coral species.

Under the most likely current emissions trajectory of around 2.7°C of warming (the SSP2-4.5 scenario), by approximately 2080, severe bleaching events are projected to occur annually, and the window for recovery between events effectively closes. ^[6]

A comprehensive modelling study of individual reef eco-evolutionary dynamics published in Nature Communications in November 2025 projected a rapid coral decline across the entire Reef by mid-century under all emissions scenarios, with potential for partial recovery this century only if global warming is held below 2°C and corals can adapt fast enough to keep pace with temperature changes. ^[12]

By 2050, approximately 40 per cent of the Great Barrier Reef is projected to exceed critical thermal thresholds sufficient to trigger ongoing mortality. ^[13]

At 3°C or 4°C of warming, the Reef's coral-dominated character would not survive the century in any recognisable form, with large sections transitioning to algae-dominated or rubble-dominated substrates.

That trajectory would devastate reef-dependent species across the food web, from reef fish and sharks to the six species of marine turtle that use the Reef's cays and seagrass beds, the seabirds that nest on the Reef's islands, and the dugong populations whose survival is tied to the seagrass meadows that a healthy reef system underpins.

Adjacent ecosystems are already registering the pressure: marine heatwaves have caused large-scale mangrove dieback events in northern Australia, and seagrass meadows in the Reef's inshore zones have experienced significant losses during thermal stress events, further weakening the ecological architecture that sustains reef biodiversity.

The Economic Stakes

The economic case for protecting the Reef is, in one sense, straightforward and enormous.

In 2024, the Reef's total economic, social and cultural value was estimated at $95 billion, a 69 per cent increase from the $56 billion figure recorded in 2017. ^[3]

The Reef contributes over $9 billion annually to the national economy and supports 77,000 full-time equivalent jobs, making it one of Australia's largest employers by asset.

Tourism alone directly contributed AUD $6.4 billion to the economy in 2024, with 2.34 million visitors generating approximately $17.5 million per day for Queensland, and tourism supported approximately 64,000 jobs directly and indirectly across reef-adjacent communities. ^[14]

In Cairns and the Whitsundays, the Reef is not merely an attraction; it is the structural basis of the local economy.

Tourism operators in Cairns and Port Douglas are already adapting, emphasising snorkelling over diving at depth where bleaching is most visible, redirecting visitors to less-impacted outer reef platforms, and investing in interpretive frameworks that contextualise bleaching for visitors without destroying the experience.

But these are stopgap measures.

If bleaching becomes a predictable annual feature of Reef tourism rather than an occasional disturbance, the structural attractiveness of the destination faces genuine revision at a marketing level that no operator can fully compensate for.

Coastal property values and insurance risk in low-lying coastal Queensland are also increasingly exposed as storm surge modelling incorporates reef structural decline.

The three-dimensional architecture of a healthy coral reef absorbs wave energy and provides shoreline protection to coastal communities; a rubble field does not.

Comprehensive economic modelling of reef ecosystem services, capturing fisheries, shoreline protection, biodiversity and carbon sequestration, consistently finds that figures based on tourism alone substantially underestimate the true cost of ecological decline.

The Great Barrier Reef Foundation has projected that limiting warming to below 2°C could unlock a $110 billion opportunity over 50 years in Reef-related economic activity, making the transition to low-carbon energy not merely an environmental commitment but an investment with a calculable return. ^[3]

Against this, Australia's public subsidies for fossil fuels continue to dwarf its investment in Reef protection.

The Australian Government committed a record $1.2 billion over nine years to 2030 for Reef protection and restoration — a meaningful commitment but one measured against an industry receiving many times that figure annually in direct and indirect government support.

Sea Country and the Weight of Belonging

For the more than 70 Traditional Custodian groups whose Sea Country encompasses the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park, the ecological crisis carries a dimension that economic modelling cannot adequately capture. ^[15]

For Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, the Reef is not a resource or a tourist destination.

It is Country: a living, relational entity bound to identity, law, ceremony, songlines and the obligations of custodianship accumulated across at least 60,000 years of continuous occupation.

When corals bleach and die, when seagrass beds collapse and the dugongs dependent on them disappear, when saltwater encroaches on culturally significant coastal sites, the loss is simultaneously ecological, cultural and spiritual.

Much Indigenous cultural heritage across the Reef coastline, including fish traps, middens and other archaeological sites, is under mounting threat from sea-level rise and the increased storm activity that accompanies a warming ocean, with researchers recommending extensive consultation with First Nations groups about preserving and documenting these sites before they are lost. ^[16]

Indigenous ranger programs have emerged as a critical bridge between traditional knowledge and contemporary reef management.

The Reef Trust Partnership, a collaboration between the Australian Government and the Great Barrier Reef Foundation, has invested $51.8 million in Traditional Owner-led reef protection projects, enabling more than 65 Traditional Owner groups to design and deliver conservation programs on their own Country. ^[4]

Rangers train in coral larval restoration, crown-of-thorns control and water quality monitoring, combining scientific methodologies with traditional ecological knowledge in a two-way learning process that researchers describe as genuinely generative for both knowledge systems.

Kelvin Rowe, a Gidarjil Ranger Coordinator and Traditional Owner of the Port Curtis Coral Coast, has described the value of this work in terms of connection rather than management alone: "Many of us here are all from different places but we are all connected to one part of the Reef," he said during AIMS-led larval restoration training at Heron Island.

Yet despite this leadership, the challenge of normalisation weighs on communities as much as it does on scientists.

Mental health impacts among communities reliant on Reef tourism and fisheries are an emerging and underacknowledged dimension of ecological grief, with researchers identifying anxiety, depression and a form of ecological mourning among fishers, tourism operators and coastal residents who have watched conditions deteriorate over careers spanning decades.

Younger Australians, particularly those raised near the Reef, face the existential prospect of inheriting an ecosystem that may not survive in its historical form.

Polling consistently shows that Australians of all ages regard the Reef's decline as a genuine national loss, yet the urgency this generates in public discourse has not consistently translated into political action commensurate with the scientific risk.

Governance, Policy and the Politics of Inaction

Australia's current national emissions trajectory is not compatible with safeguarding the Reef.

The Australian Government's 2030 emissions reduction target of 43 per cent below 2005 levels, while representing a meaningful improvement on its predecessors, sits below the level scientists say is required for the global community to have a reasonable chance of limiting warming to 1.5°C.

The Reef 2050 Long-Term Sustainability Plan, a joint Australian and Queensland Government framework, provides the overarching policy structure for Reef management to 2050 and has been the primary mechanism through which Australia has addressed its obligations under the World Heritage Convention.

The UNESCO World Heritage Committee has twice in recent years considered formally listing the Reef as "in danger," a designation that would carry significant diplomatic, reputational and economic consequences for Australia, and that the Australian Government has expended considerable diplomatic effort to avoid.

The Great Barrier Reef Progress Report 2025, released in February of that year, provided updates on Australia's 2023 commitments to UNESCO and addressed the World Heritage Committee's Decision 46 COM 7B.62.

Progress on water quality, one of the plan's central pillars, has been real but uneven.

The Reef Water Quality Report Card for 2021 and 2022, released in May 2024, found continued improvement toward particulate nutrient targets but slower progress on dissolved inorganic nitrogen and sediment loads, the pollutants most directly linked to crown-of-thorns outbreaks and reef degradation in inshore zones. ^[5]

Agricultural runoff from the Reef's vast catchments, stretching deep into Queensland's farming regions, continues to deliver elevated loads of nutrients and sediments onto inshore reefs, compounding the thermal stress imposed by climate change.

The Queensland Government has committed $289.6 million to the Reef Water Quality Program to 2025-2026, a significant figure, but one that operates in a policy environment where the fundamental driver of decline, greenhouse gas emissions, remains inadequately constrained at a national and global level.

The political barriers to stronger climate action framed explicitly around Reef survival are well-documented and structural.

Queensland's export economy is deeply integrated with fossil fuel production, particularly coal exports from the Bowen Basin and the Galilee Basin.

Communities dependent on mining employment are understandably resistant to policies that threaten their livelihoods, and federal politics has frequently sought to accommodate both the interests of fossil fuel-dependent regions and the environmental imperatives of the Reef, a reconciliation that climate science suggests is increasingly untenable.

Carbon offset schemes, some marketed as contributing to Reef protection, risk creating a false sense of progress by allowing continued emissions in exchange for ecosystem credits that do not address the underlying thermal stress driving bleaching.

Accountability mechanisms that keep Reef protection central to national climate strategy remain insufficient, and the scientific community has been candid about the growing gap between what is required and what is being delivered.

Intervention Science and Its Limits

As emissions reduction has failed to keep pace with scientific necessity, a growing field of reef intervention science has sought to buy time through active management.

Coral seeding, which involves collecting coral spawn during mass spawning events and rearing larvae in controlled conditions before releasing them onto degraded reef surfaces, has demonstrated measurable success in targeted restoration trials.

Assisted evolution, which selects for thermally tolerant coral genotypes through selective breeding and micro-fragmentation, has shown promise in laboratory and field settings, and research programs at AIMS and the Reef Restoration and Adaptation Program are developing a toolbox of interventions to deploy at scale.

The honest scientific assessment, however, is that these interventions are currently experimental rather than operational at the scale required to protect thousands of reefs against annual bleaching.

The Great Barrier Reef Marine Park extends across an area roughly the size of Italy.

No intervention technology currently exists or is in realistic prospect that can cool ocean temperatures, reduce acidification, or prevent bleaching across that geographic scale without the fundamental prerequisite of reduced greenhouse gas emissions globally.

The interventions matter, and they should be funded and scaled as rapidly as science permits, but they are complements to emissions reduction, not substitutes for it.

The Long View

The threshold at which the Reef ceases to function as a coral-dominated ecosystem is not a single temperature but a trajectory, determined by the rate and duration of warming in combination with the Reef's diminishing capacity to recover.

There is credible evidence of natural coral adaptation: some coral populations show measurable increases in thermal tolerance over decades, and genetic variation within coral populations provides the raw material on which natural selection can act.

But the pace of adaptation is almost certainly slower than the current pace of warming under high-emissions scenarios.

The November 2025 Nature Communications modelling study found that adaptation could keep pace with warming only if temperatures are held below 2°C, a finding consistent with the broader consensus in coral science. ^[12]

The debate within the scientific community is no longer whether the Reef will change substantially; it will.

The debate is whether, with adequate and rapid action, the Reef can retain enough ecological integrity to remain a coral-dominated system supporting high biodiversity and the cultural, economic and ecological services that depend on it.

That question has not yet been answered in the negative, but the window for an affirmative outcome is closing at a pace determined by global emissions trajectories over which Australia has influence but not control.

The lessons the Reef offers to coral systems globally are clear and urgent: early investment in monitoring is indispensable; Indigenous knowledge systems are genuine partners in ecological management rather than supplementary narratives; water quality improvements provide meaningful local protection even when global emissions remain elevated; and the cost of inaction accumulates at a rate that no later investment can fully recover.

Communicating the Reef's situation without fostering despair requires holding two realities simultaneously: the scientific seriousness of current damage, and the scientific reality that every fraction of a degree of warming avoided translates into corals, fish populations, coastal communities and cultural heritage that are preserved rather than lost.

The Reef at 1.5°C is not the same as the Reef of the pre-industrial era, but it is vastly better than the Reef at 3°C.

That gradient of difference is the terrain on which the scientific, political and moral case for action is most honestly and most urgently made.

What Genuine Climate Leadership Would Look Like

If the survival of the Reef were used as the benchmark for genuine climate leadership, Australia's required actions are not obscure or technically contentious.

They would include a near-term strengthening of national emissions reduction targets aligned with a 1.5°C pathway, an accelerated phase-out of thermal coal exports as global demand declines, a major scaling of renewable energy infrastructure, a restructured water quality framework with legally enforceable catchment-level targets, and substantially increased public investment in reef restoration science that operates at the scale of the problem rather than the scale of political comfort.

Near-term adaptation measures, including expanded crown-of-thorns control programs, continued coral larval seeding trials, and the protection of known thermal refugia through marine park zoning, can buy ecologically meaningful time while mitigation accelerates.

The accountability gap is perhaps the most pressing governance problem: Australia currently lacks binding mechanisms that make Reef health outcomes a non-negotiable constraint on climate and land-use policy rather than an aspiration subject to political negotiation.

Whether Reef protection is framed primarily as an environmental imperative, an economic necessity, or a moral obligation toward future generations and the Traditional Owners whose Sea Country it encompasses is, in one sense, a question of political strategy.

In substance, it is all three simultaneously, and the distinction matters less than the outcome.

Conclusion

The Great Barrier Reef is not dead, and it is not yet lost.

That sentence carries the weight of everything the scientific evidence implies: that it is imperilled, that the damage already done is real and compounding, and that the decisions made in the next decade will determine whether one of the planet's most extraordinary living systems endures into the next century in any meaningful form.

The Reef's sixth consecutive bleaching season is unfolding as these words are written.

Hard coral cover across much of the system sits at or below long-term averages, and recovery windows are shortening with each new thermal event.

The science is not ambiguous about what is required: immediate and steep reductions in global greenhouse gas emissions, matched by serious investment in water quality reform and restoration science, and governed by accountability structures that cannot be quietly revised away during election cycles.

The Reef's fate is not sealed, but it is conditional on choices that are being made, and avoided, right now.

To treat the Reef as a legacy asset to be managed in decline is to misunderstand both the science and the stakes.

To treat its survival as a serious benchmark for Australian climate policy would require a level of political courage and institutional honesty that has, to date, been partial at best.

The Reef is watching, and so, with increasing urgency, is the world.

References

1. Australian Institute of Marine Science. (2025). Long-Term Monitoring Program Annual Summary Report of Coral Reef Condition 2024/25. AIMS, Townsville.
2. McWhorter, J.K., Halloran, P.R., Roff, G., Skirving, W.J., Perry, C.T., & Mumby, P.J. (2022). The importance of 1.5°C warming for the Great Barrier Reef. Global Change Biology, 28(4), 1332–1341.
3. Great Barrier Reef Foundation. (2025). At What Cost? Safeguarding the Great Barrier Reef's Role in Australia's Economy.
4. Great Barrier Reef Foundation. (2024). Traditional Owners Leading Reef Protection.
5. Queensland Government. (2024). Reef Water Quality Report Card 2021 and 2022.
6. McWhorter, J.K. et al. (2022). The importance of 1.5°C warming for the Great Barrier Reef. Global Change Biology. See also: Dixon, A.M. et al. (2022). Coral reef refugia. PLOS Climate.
7. Bozec, Y-M. et al. (2025). Substantial impacts from 2024 mass coral bleaching and cyclones reduce regional coral cover. Coral Reefs.
8. Byrne, M. et al. (2025). Catastrophic bleaching in protected reefs of the Southern Great Barrier Reef. Limnology and Oceanography Letters.
9. McWhorter, J.K. et al. (2022). Climate refugia on the Great Barrier Reef. Global Change Biology.
10. Dixon, A.M. et al. (2022). Last refuges for coral reefs. PLOS Climate. As reported by Carbon Brief.
11. Great Barrier Reef Foundation. (2023). The Reef is a victim of climate change but could be part of the solution. Citing IPCC AR6 WG2 (2022).
12. Bozec, Y-M. et al. (2025). A rapidly closing window for coral persistence under global warming. Nature Communications.
13. Camp, E.F. et al. (2024). Future climate warming threatens coral reef function on World Heritage reefs. Global Change Biology.
14. Australian Government, Minister for the Environment and Water. (2023). Great Barrier Reef valued at $95bn and supports 77,000 jobs. Road Genius. (2025). Great Barrier Reef Tourism Statistics.
15. WWF-Australia. (2024). Great Barrier Reef.
16. Rowland, M. et al. (2024). Great Barrier Reef Indigenous archaeology and occupation. Australasian Journal of Environmental Management.

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The Press and the Planet: How Australian Journalism Is Failing the Climate Crisis - Lethal Heating Editor BDA

How Australian journalists, media commentators, and the press at large are
 — and are not — meeting the defining challenge of our era

Key Points

Australian media still too often frames climate change as a political contest rather than a civilisational risk. 1 False balance and the "neutrality" norm continue to undermine accurate coverage of scientific consensus. 2 Disinformation networks and greenwashing by corporations go under-scrutinised in many major outlets. 3 Algorithmic platforms amplify outrage and denial, fragmenting public understanding of climate risk. 4 Frontline communities, First Nations voices, and climate scientists remain marginalised in mainstream coverage. 5 Structural reform in journalism education and newsroom practice is urgently needed to match the scale of the crisis. 6

In the summer of 2019 to 2020, as smoke from the Black Summer bushfires turned Sydney's skies an ochre-red and air quality in Melbourne plunged below that of New Delhi, something shifted in Australian newsrooms.

Correspondents who had spent careers covering floods and droughts as isolated episodes began, haltingly, to use the words "climate change" in the same sentence as "fire weather."

The shift was overdue, and it was incomplete.

More than five years on, Australian journalism's reckoning with the climate crisis remains uneven, contested, and in some quarters, still evasive.

The question of how journalists, media commentators, and the conventional and online press cover climate change is no longer a matter of professional navel-gazing; it is a question about the health of democratic deliberation itself.

The Democratic Role of Journalism in the Climate Era

Climate change sits at the intersection of science, economics, politics, public health, and national security, yet most Australian newsrooms still treat it primarily as an environmental or political story.

The framing matters enormously: a story cast as a "debate between Labor and the Liberals" invites false equivalence, while a story cast as a systemic risk to food systems, insurance markets, and coastal infrastructure demands a different order of seriousness.¹

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change's Sixth Assessment Report, released between 2021 and 2023, concluded with unambiguous language that human influence has warmed the atmosphere, ocean, and land at a rate unprecedented in at least the past two thousand years.²

Despite this, editors at several major metropolitan dailies continue to segment climate coverage as a "round" assigned to environment reporters rather than integrating it across political, business, health, agriculture, and defence desks.

The 24-hour news cycle compounds the problem.

Slow-moving systemic risks, like rising sea levels or shifting rainfall patterns, are structurally disadvantaged in a media economy that rewards speed and spectacle over depth and consequence.

The Black Summer fires generated intense coverage, but the structural conditions that made them possible, decades of inadequate emissions reduction policy and land management underfunded by successive governments, received far less sustained attention.³

Commercial pressures shape these choices in ways that are rarely made explicit.

News Corp Australia, which controls a majority of the nation's metropolitan print circulation, has historically provided a platform for columnists who have questioned or minimised the urgency of climate action, a pattern documented by researchers at the University of Melbourne and the Australian Centre for Independent Journalism.⁴

Nine Entertainment's mastheads, including The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age, have generally maintained stronger alignment with scientific consensus, though critics argue that business coverage in those same outlets underweights climate risk in economic reporting.

Journalists are also, on the whole, underprepared.

Training in climate science literacy, systems thinking, and risk communication remains patchy in Australian journalism schools and is rarely offered as professional development inside newsrooms.

The result is coverage that can accurately report the latest Bureau of Meteorology temperature record while failing to situate it within feedback loops, tipping point science, or the equity dimensions of climate vulnerability.⁵

Exposing Disinformation and Climate Lies

The architecture of climate disinformation is well documented by researchers, yet Australian media's investigative response to it has been, at best, sporadic.

Organisations such as the Heartland Institute in the United States, and their local analogues including the Institute of Public Affairs in Melbourne, have for decades produced material challenging climate science and circulated it through opinion pages, podcasts, and parliamentary submissions.⁶

Relatively few Australian outlets have followed the money, tracing the funding networks that connect fossil fuel interests to think tanks, lobbyists, and sympathetic commentators.

The problem has metastasised online.

A 2023 report by the Centre for Countering Digital Hate found that climate denial content on X (formerly Twitter) surged following policy changes that reduced content moderation, with posts questioning human-caused warming receiving algorithmic amplification far in excess of peer-reviewed climate reporting.⁷

Meta's platforms have shown similar patterns, with Facebook's recommendation engine directing users who engage with environmental content toward sceptical and outright denialist pages.

When politicians misrepresent climate science, Australian journalists too often default to "he said, she said" framing rather than clearly labelling false statements as false.

This reflects a residual professional attachment to "neutrality" that conflates balance between political parties with balance between evidence and denial, a category error with serious public consequences.

Opinion columnists are rarely held to evidentiary standards equivalent to those applied to news reporters, and editors at several mastheads have defended this asymmetry on grounds of free expression.

The result is that "zombie misinformation," claims about climate science that have been debunked repeatedly, continues to resurface in print and online without correction or context.

Climate delay narratives, including the argument that Australia's emissions are "too small to matter" or that technological innovation will resolve warming without structural economic change, receive insufficient investigative scrutiny despite being demonstrably misleading in their simplest form.⁸

Australia is among the world's highest per-capita emitters and one of the largest exporters of coal and gas; the claim that its choices are globally insignificant does not survive contact with the data.⁹

Greenwashing by corporations and financial institutions, presenting fossil fuel investments as compatible with net-zero commitments, is an area where investigative journalism has grown, with outlets including The Guardian Australia and the ABC's Four Corners producing substantive work.

But the volume of greenwashing claims in the market, from superannuation funds to resource companies, vastly outpaces journalistic scrutiny.

Providing Facts in Context

When extreme weather events strike, Australian reporters have become more likely than a decade ago to mention climate change as a contributing factor.

Yet the connection is too often framed as a caveat, a single sentence attributing a warming trend to "climate change," rather than a central explanatory framework grounded in attribution science and Bureau of Meteorology data.¹⁰

Headlines routinely oversimplify scientific findings, either by understating uncertainty to generate alarm or by overstating it to create false reassurance.

Both tendencies erode public trust.

Reporters face genuine difficulty in distinguishing short-term climate variability from long-term trajectories in ways that are accessible to general audiences, and this difficulty is compounded when stories are filed on deadline without access to expert review.

References to peer-reviewed literature, particularly the IPCC's Sixth Assessment Report, remain rare in political reporting, where the standard framework is parliamentary procedure and party positioning rather than science.

Australia's national emissions debates are seldom contextualised within global carbon budgets, equity frameworks, or the question of historical responsibility, all of which are necessary to assess policy adequacy honestly.¹¹

Coverage of adaptation and mitigation policy is weakly benchmarked against the Paris Agreement's temperature goals, meaning readers have little basis for judging whether a given policy is commensurate with the scale of the risk.

Tipping points, feedback loops, and compound climate risks are concepts now central to climate science but explained accessibly in mainstream media only rarely, and often inaccurately.

Economic reporting represents a particularly significant failure: stories about housing affordability, insurance premiums, food price inflation, and coastal development routinely omit climate risk as a structural driver, leaving readers without the causal understanding they need to evaluate policy choices.¹²

4. Digital Media and Algorithmic Amplification

The platforms that now mediate most Australians' news consumption were designed to maximise engagement, and outrage, conflict, and novelty tend to be more engaging than careful, contextualised reporting on slow-moving systemic risk.

Algorithms on Meta, X, YouTube, and TikTok do not distinguish between peer-reviewed climate science and professionally produced disinformation.

TikTok's influence among audiences under thirty is substantial and growing, and the platform hosts a heterogeneous mix of credible climate communication, apocalyptic doomerism, and organised denial, without meaningful curation or correction.¹³

Digital newsrooms face acute pressure to optimise content for clicks, and the financial model of programmatic advertising creates incentives to prioritise engagement over accuracy.

Some outlets have responded constructively: The Guardian Australia has invested in data visualisations and interactive climate explainers, and the ABC's digital team has produced sustained long-form climate reporting.

But these are exceptions in an environment where the business model of online publishing actively discourages the kind of deep, patient journalism that climate change demands.

Technology companies bear a responsibility for moderating climate disinformation that they have not yet exercised adequately, and the Australian government's Online Safety Act provides limited tools to compel action against coordinated influence campaigns on global platforms.¹⁴

Accountability and Public Trust

Australian climate journalism has, in its better expressions, strengthened public understanding of climate risk, but it has also contributed to fatigue and, in some quarters, polarisation.

Research by the Australian Science Media Centre and others indicates that audiences respond poorly to sustained "doom framing," the relentless emphasis on catastrophe without pathways, agency, or solutions.¹⁵

Solutions journalism, covering what works, where, and why, remains underdeveloped in Australian newsrooms relative to crisis coverage.

First Nations communities, who are among the most vulnerable to climate disruption and who possess extensive land and ecological knowledge relevant to adaptation, are chronically underrepresented as sources and subjects in mainstream climate reporting.

Frontline communities in northern Australia, Pacific island nations in Australia's immediate region, and agricultural communities facing shifting rainfall patterns similarly receive episodic rather than sustained attention.

Editors willing to frame climate change as a risk management issue, structurally comparable to national security or pandemic preparedness, would transform the architecture of newsroom resources, expertise, and coverage priorities.

Responsible climate journalism in 2026 should be measured against clear benchmarks: the accuracy of scientific framing, the frequency of disinformation exposure, the presence of frontline voices, the integration of climate risk across all coverage desks, and the willingness to label falsehood as falsehood.¹⁶

The Ethics of Climate Reporting

Strict journalistic neutrality, the doctrine that reporters must present "both sides" without judgement, is ethically incoherent when applied to a scientific consensus as robust as that underpinning human-caused climate change.

The scientific literature does not support a "debate" about whether warming is occurring or whether human activity is its primary driver; presenting it as such is not neutral but misleading.²

There is a strong case that climate reporting should adopt a harm-minimisation framework analogous to that applied in public health journalism, where editors routinely make judgements about the likely impact of publishing certain information and frame stories with reference to evidence-based guidance.

Journalists do not, as a rule, offer "both sides" on tobacco causing cancer or vaccines preventing disease; the consensus on climate change is of comparable strength and comparable public importance.

Transparency about scientific confidence levels and uncertainty ranges is both ethically required and practically achievable with adequate training and editorial commitment.

The challenge of covering unfolding climate disasters, where speed and accuracy are in tension and conditions change hourly, requires newsrooms to develop protocols that prioritise verified information over speed without abandoning the public's need for timely reporting.

False equivalence between climate science and organised denial is not a neutral editorial choice; it is a choice with consequences for public understanding, policy outcomes, and ultimately for the people most exposed to climate harm.

Whether that constitutes journalistic malpractice is a question the profession has been reluctant to confront directly, but the weight of evidence, and the weight of consequence, demands that it does.

Self-Reflection for Climate Journalists

Those of us who have spent careers covering climate change carry our own accounting to make.

Have we underestimated the scale and speed of climate disruption, defaulting to the language of incremental change when the science has increasingly pointed toward abrupt, compounding risk?

Have we interrogated our own framing biases, our preference for policy process over physical consequence, our reliance on political sources rather than affected communities and independent scientists?

The gap between what the science says and what political leaders propose as action has, in most years, been vast; reporting that treats inadequate targets as newsworthy achievements is a failure of accountability journalism.

Collaboration across outlets, through networks like Covering Climate Now, which connects hundreds of newsrooms internationally, offers a model for building investigative depth that individual newsrooms cannot sustain alone.¹⁷

Structural reform in journalism education is essential: climate literacy, including basic understanding of atmospheric physics, carbon budgets, and risk framing, should be a core competency for graduates, not an optional specialisation.

Newsrooms need dedicated climate editors with the authority to integrate coverage across desks, challenge inadequate framing, and hold contributors accountable to evidentiary standards regardless of their platform or standing.

Conclusion: The Press We Need

The role of journalists, media commentators, and the conventional and online media in covering climate change is not merely professional; it is civic.

The quality of public understanding of climate risk, the willingness to hold governments and corporations to account, the accuracy with which communities can assess their exposure and their options, all depend substantially on the choices editors and reporters make every day.

Australian journalism has produced important and courageous climate work: investigative pieces exposing fossil fuel lobbying, data journalism mapping emissions trajectories, human stories connecting abstract science to lived experience.

But the profession has also, too often, failed to match the scale and urgency of the crisis it is covering.

False balance, commercial constraint, algorithmic distortion, inadequate training, and a structural preference for episodic drama over systemic accountability have all played their part in that failure.

The physics of climate change does not adjust to the rhythms of the news cycle or the preferences of media owners.

The press must adjust to the physics.

Meeting that challenge requires not just better individual journalism but structural change in how newsrooms are organised, how journalists are trained, and how the industry defines its obligations to the public it serves.

The stakes could not be more clearly established by the science, and they could not be more consequential for the communities that depend on an informed press to navigate them.

References

1. Boykoff, M.T. & Boykoff, J.M. (2004). "Balance as bias: Global warming and the US prestige press." Global Environmental Change, 14(2), 125–136.
2. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. (2021). Sixth Assessment Report: The Physical Science Basis. Cambridge University Press.
3. Australian Institute for Disaster Resilience. (2020). Black Summer Bushfires 2019–2020.
4. Bacon, W. & Nash, C. (2012). "Playing it safe: Journalism and News Media Framing of Climate Change in Australia." Australian Journalism Review.
5. Bureau of Meteorology. (2024). State of the Climate 2024. Australian Government.
6. Oreskes, N. & Conway, E.M. (2010). Merchants of Doubt. Bloomsbury Press.
7. Centre for Countering Digital Hate. (2023). The Toxic Ten: How Ten Fringe Publishers Fund Climate Change Denial.
8. Lamb, W.F. et al. (2020). "Discourses of climate delay." Global Sustainability, 3, e17.
9. Department of Climate Change, Energy, the Environment and Water. (2023). National Greenhouse Gas Inventory. Australian Government.
10. Bureau of Meteorology & CSIRO. (2022). State of the Climate Report.
11. Climate Action Tracker. (2024). Australia Country Assessment.
12. Reserve Bank of Australia. (2022). Climate Change and the RBA.
13. Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism. (2023). Digital News Report 2023. University of Oxford.
14. eSafety Commissioner. (2023). Online Safety Act 2021 — Regulatory overview. Australian Government.
15. Australian Science Media Centre. (2022). Climate Communication and Public Engagement.
16. Covering Climate Now. (2023). Climate Journalism Standards and Best Practice.
17. Covering Climate Now. (2024). About Covering Climate Now.

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