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Vital climate tool or license to pollute? The battle over California’s first carbon capture project

News Feed
Tuesday, April 16, 2024

In summary Rural Latino communities are divided about the project, which would capture carbon from an oilfield and power plant — and allow an oil company to keep operating as the state struggles to slash greenhouse gases. In western Kern County, where rolling hills are punctuated by bobbing rigs, the state’s largest oil and gas producer is betting that a novel technology will stave off the extinction of California’s fossil fuel industry. The proposal has split this region, known as California’s oil country: Some want a future for oil and gas with less carbon emissions, while others insist that the polluting industries must go altogether. In a project that would be California’s first attempt to capture and sequester carbon, California Resources Corp. plans to collect emissions at its Elk Hills Oil and Gas Field, and then inject the gases more than a mile deep into a depleted oil reservoir. The goal is to keep carbon underground and out of the atmosphere, where it traps heat and contributes to climate change. Around the world, the race to build these carbon capture and storage projects is part of a broader bid by the oil and gas industry to remain viable in a world struggling to decarbonize. In California alone, federal officials are reviewing 13 proposals to build projects — most in the Central Valley — that would capture carbon dioxide spewed by oil operations, power plants and other facilities or remove it from the atmosphere, then inject it underground into wells.  Although California aims to phase out nearly all fossil fuels, Gov. Gavin Newsom’s administration said they must rely on carbon capture to eliminate millions of tons of greenhouse gases a year to meet its mandate of carbon-neutrality by 2045. The state may become even more reliant on this new technology than originally envisioned to stay on track in cutting planet-warming emissions.  “We have a very unique market in California, where you have a state government that’s pushing really in favor of an energy transition,” Francisco Leon, California Resources Corp.’s chief executive officer, said during a recent earnings call. “But we also have a state that has relied on oil and gas revenues to support the communities and to pave the roads, to pay for libraries and fire stations.” At its massive oilfield in Kern County, a few miles from the mostly Latino, low-income community of Buttonwillow, California Resources Corp. is seeking approval to inject 1.46 million metric tons of carbon dioxide a year over a 26-year period into an underground reservoir. That’s equivalent to the annual emissions of several hundred thousand gas-powered cars. The company hopes to expand to a second nearby reservoir once operations are underway.  The company needs permission from both the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and the Kern County Board of Supervisors. Both are expected to make their decisions this year, and the company hopes to start its first carbon injections next year. Many residents and environmental justice groups oppose these projects because they allow oilfields, power plants and other industrial operations to keep emitting dangerous air pollutants in their communities. At the Kern County project, emissions of fine particles and gases that form smog would be “significant and unavoidable,” according to the county’s environmental impact report. “You’re locking in pollution infrastructure that should be phased out,” said Daniel Ress, an attorney with the Delano-based Center on Race, Poverty and the Environment. “This was designed by fossil fuel companies so that they can continue to profit off the climate crisis. They set this trap.” Taft Mayor Dave Noerr, who is standing next to a monument for oil workers, supports the carbon capture project. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local Dave Noerr, mayor of the foothills town of Taft, about 8 miles from the project site, sees the technology as a gamechanger for Kern County: a way of hanging on to well-paying, middle class oil and gas jobs as California tackles climate change. The industry employs about 14,000 people in Kern County, which provides three-quarters of California’s oil. Signs of oil country are visible throughout Taft, a town of 7,000 people southwest of Bakersfield surrounded by thousands of sentinel-like oil rigs pumping day and night. A bronze monument depicting early 20th century work in the oilfields rises in a town square. Noerr’s office is located on the appropriately named Black Gold Court.  Noerr said California should lead the way with capture and storage technology so that developing countries can eventually adopt it at their high-polluting coal plants. “If we can learn how to do it, and do it right, on a commercial scale, right here, then we can help those people,” Noerr said. Sonia Sanchez, who lives a half hour drive to the north, in Buttonwillow, on the other side of the company’s oilfields, is more worried about the health of her son than the plight of coal plants overseas. Sanchez owns a notary business that offers document services to farm-laboring Latinos. California Resources Corp.’s pipelines and injection wells would be built just four miles from the closest home in Buttonwillow, and within 2.5 miles of the closest elementary school, according to the environmental impact report. Researchers have found connections between people living near oilfields and health effects, including respiratory problems, low birthweight babies and premature babies. Sonia Sanchez of Buttonwillow helps organize local opposition to the proposed carbon capture project in the Elk Hills oilfield near her community. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local At a recent government hearing for the project held in Buttonwillow, Sanchez and others sported lime green T-shirts emblazoned with the words “Stop the Carbon Capture Scam.” Capturing carbon to extend the life of oilfields would keep endangering children, who “are still developing, they’re young,” Sanchez said. “We have to protect them.” Burying carbon more than a mile underground One of the most productive oilfields in America, the Elk Hills Oil and Gas Field sits amid  the winding, hilly terrain between Buttonwillow and Taft, some 30 miles west of Bakersfield. On a recent afternoon, trucks bustled in and out of the gated Elk Hills power plant. The plant dominates the remote, industrial landscape, with igloo-like structures rising in the distance. It’s in this oilfield in the heart of the San Joaquin Valley that California Resources Corp. plans to launch the state’s first experiment with storing carbon underground.  Carbon capture technology has been in use since the 1970s in other states and countries, often on coal-fired power plants, ventures that have been criticized as costly and complicated. In the United States, much of the carbon injected underground has been by energy companies to extract oil out wells, a practice banned by California in 2022. In many projects, a smokestack is equipped with a filtration system to capture greenhouse gases, which are then extracted and compressed, and then transported and stored, often underground.  Click to enlarge. Illustration by John Osborn D'Agostino, CalMatters Illustration by John Osborn D'Agostino, CalMatters The Kern County project would remove carbon dioxide from natural gas produced at the company’s oilfields before it is burned at the company’s medium-sized power plant, which provides energy for Pacific Gas & Electric. Carbon also would be captured from a proposed hydrogen plant and a direct air capture project that would use fans and filters to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere.  Richard Venn, a spokesman for California Resources Corp., declined to answer questions from CalMatters or allow company representatives to be interviewed about their project. Information came from EPA and Kern County documents as well as company materials. The company will build underground pipelines from the plants to the injection wells, spanning about six miles during the initial phase and about eight miles during a second phase, according to county documents. The project has received draft permits from the EPA for four injection wells. They are the first in the nation to be issued for a depleted oil and natural gas field, the company said in a press release. According to the draft permits, the carbon would be buried 6,000 feet below ground — more than a mile deep into the Monterey Formation, a massive geological structure that is a major source of California’s oil. California Resources Corp. has said the gas will be trapped, in part, by a 1,000-foot-thick rock layer called the Reef Ridge Shale, according to the documents. The EPA will require the company to monitor the wells for the rest of the century to guarantee that no groundwater is polluted. Initial examinations suggest there are no drinking water sources threatened by injecting carbon into the reservoir. But the project would use significant amounts of groundwater in a basin that already is overpumped, according to the environmental impact report. Left: Oil wells pump next to the Elk Hills Power Station. The proposed carbon capture project at the site would collect carbon emissions from the oilfield and power plant and then inject them underground. Right: Photos by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local The company must take out a $33 million insurance policy and enact a number of other measures, including plugging 157 oil wells to ensure the carbon dioxide remains underground.  Carbon capture and storage could be big business for California Resources Corp., which has the most acres of privately held mineral rights in California.  In 2022 the company, which earned revenues of $2.8 billion last year, announced a $500 million investment from Brookfield Asset Management to pursue carbon storage projects. It has several other proposed capture projects in California and earlier this year it merged with Aera Energy, which had been lobbying for policies promoting carbon capture in California and pursuing its own project. California Resources Corp. said it plans to offset some of its costs with tax credits provided in the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 and could qualify for some state subsidies. Capturing carbon remains expensive and so far is used only on a small scale. Worldwide last year 41 facilities were operating and 351 were under development, according to an annual report by the think-tank Global Carbon Capture and Storage Institute. Pavel Molchanov, an analyst with investment bank Raymond James, recently called carbon capture “niche” and said it only reduced greenhouse gases by a “rounding error,” with 0.1% of global emissions captured and stored last year. He said it’s quicker and easier to shut down fossil fuel facilities and shift to cleaner electricity. Climate experts say the technology can play an important role in reducing emissions. The United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has said carbon capture can be part of the net-zero energy transition along with significant reductions in fossil fuel use.  Gov. Gavin Newsom, through a spokesman, declined to comment on the California Resources Corp. proposal but he has actively supported carbon capture and storage as a means of lowering the state’s carbon footprint. California plans to eliminate 94% of oil and gas, mostly by switching to electric vehicles and producing electricity from solar and wind energy. To make up the shortfall, the state will rely on carbon capture to cut 13 million metric tons of carbon from industrial and energy plants annually by 2030 and 25 million by 2045, and remove another 75 million metric tons from the atmosphere through other projects. These technologies amount to 15% of all of California's planned greenhouse gas cuts. That portion could grow if the state struggles to start up offshore wind and build more rooftop solar. California isn’t on track to meet its climate targets — and isn’t even close, according to a recent analysis. When state officials deliberated their 2022 climate plan, they characterized carbon capture as reserved for tough-to-decarbonize industries, such as cement manufacturing. But now the state will need a “broader application” of the technology, including for natural gas plants, or California will fail to meet its 2045 emissions targets, Air Resources Board spokesman David Clegern said in an email. Environmentalists are skeptical about the technology’s climate benefits, noting that methane, a potent greenhouse gas, can still leak out of natural gas plants. They also worry about carbon dioxide leaking from pipelines.  “Carbon capture has no vital role to play in generating electricity…We don't need it to decarbonize the electricity system,” said David Pomerantz, executive director of the Energy and Policy Institute, an environmental group. Passionate views in local communities In Kern County, the Elk Hills project has pitted oil and gas companies against residents and activists who want to see these industries closed. While the oil industry is a big  employer, the company’s carbon project won’t generate many new jobs: about 80 positions for construction and then only five full-time employees to operate the facility. Kern County is charging California Resources Corp. $250,000 a year for public safety and between $200 to $400 annually on each acreage of the project’s land. The company must also compensate for fine particles and other pollution that the project would emit into the air by reducing it elsewhere in Kern County, paying for measures such as electric school buses.  The Elk Hills oilfield is among the nation's largest oil producers. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local On a late weekday evening in February, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and red into the sky above Buttonwillow, about two dozen people entered Sanchez’ storefront. Taking seats, they listened to organizers talk about their opposition to the project. Then they made their way to the community center, where the EPA was conducting a public hearing for the project.  For three hours, people spoke passionately both in favor and in opposition, with about 50 people stepping up to the microphone. The speakers included workers in orange union shirts, farmers in plaid, politicians, oil industry employees and community residents. Attendees filled folding chairs and the rafters. Both Sanchez, the Buttonwillow business owner, and Noerr, the Taft mayor, were among those who took their turns at the microphone.  Noerr spoke of his more than 40 years working in the oil industry in Kern County and praised its “emphasis on safety, on quality and efficiency and environmental stewardship.” He said he would never support a project that would put his community at risk. Earlier in the hearing, with her teenage son and two other local boys at her side, Sanchez told the crowd about her fears that if the project goes through, it would leave polluting oilfields in her community for many more generations to come. “We cannot afford to compromise the air we breathe, the water we drink and the soil we rely on for the sake of experimental solutions,” she said. “I refuse to expose my family in any way to unnecessary risks…Our town’s wellbeing and the health of its residents are nonnegotiable.”

Rural Latino communities are divided about the project, which would capture carbon from an oilfield and power plant — and allow an oil company to keep operating as the state struggles to slash greenhouse gases.

Oil pumps around the Elk Hills Power Station along Elk Hills Road on March 29, 2024. The Elk Hills oil field is the site of the new carbon capture project that captures carbon emissions from oil and gas facilities and then injects them underground. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local

In summary

Rural Latino communities are divided about the project, which would capture carbon from an oilfield and power plant — and allow an oil company to keep operating as the state struggles to slash greenhouse gases.

In western Kern County, where rolling hills are punctuated by bobbing rigs, the state’s largest oil and gas producer is betting that a novel technology will stave off the extinction of California’s fossil fuel industry.

The proposal has split this region, known as California’s oil country: Some want a future for oil and gas with less carbon emissions, while others insist that the polluting industries must go altogether.

In a project that would be California’s first attempt to capture and sequester carbon, California Resources Corp. plans to collect emissions at its Elk Hills Oil and Gas Field, and then inject the gases more than a mile deep into a depleted oil reservoir. The goal is to keep carbon underground and out of the atmosphere, where it traps heat and contributes to climate change.

Around the world, the race to build these carbon capture and storage projects is part of a broader bid by the oil and gas industry to remain viable in a world struggling to decarbonize.

In California alone, federal officials are reviewing 13 proposals to build projects — most in the Central Valley — that would capture carbon dioxide spewed by oil operations, power plants and other facilities or remove it from the atmosphere, then inject it underground into wells. 

Although California aims to phase out nearly all fossil fuels, Gov. Gavin Newsom’s administration said they must rely on carbon capture to eliminate millions of tons of greenhouse gases a year to meet its mandate of carbon-neutrality by 2045. The state may become even more reliant on this new technology than originally envisioned to stay on track in cutting planet-warming emissions. 

“We have a very unique market in California, where you have a state government that’s pushing really in favor of an energy transition,” Francisco Leon, California Resources Corp.’s chief executive officer, said during a recent earnings call. “But we also have a state that has relied on oil and gas revenues to support the communities and to pave the roads, to pay for libraries and fire stations.”

At its massive oilfield in Kern County, a few miles from the mostly Latino, low-income community of Buttonwillow, California Resources Corp. is seeking approval to inject 1.46 million metric tons of carbon dioxide a year over a 26-year period into an underground reservoir. That’s equivalent to the annual emissions of several hundred thousand gas-powered cars. The company hopes to expand to a second nearby reservoir once operations are underway. 

The company needs permission from both the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and the Kern County Board of Supervisors. Both are expected to make their decisions this year, and the company hopes to start its first carbon injections next year.

Many residents and environmental justice groups oppose these projects because they allow oilfields, power plants and other industrial operations to keep emitting dangerous air pollutants in their communities. At the Kern County project, emissions of fine particles and gases that form smog would be “significant and unavoidable,” according to the county’s environmental impact report.

“You’re locking in pollution infrastructure that should be phased out,” said Daniel Ress, an attorney with the Delano-based Center on Race, Poverty and the Environment. “This was designed by fossil fuel companies so that they can continue to profit off the climate crisis. They set this trap.”

Dave Noerr, the mayor of Taft, stands in front of the Oil Worker Monument in Taft on March 29, 2024. Noerr is in full support of the carbon capture project. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local
Taft Mayor Dave Noerr, who is standing next to a monument for oil workers, supports the carbon capture project. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local

Dave Noerr, mayor of the foothills town of Taft, about 8 miles from the project site, sees the technology as a gamechanger for Kern County: a way of hanging on to well-paying, middle class oil and gas jobs as California tackles climate change. The industry employs about 14,000 people in Kern County, which provides three-quarters of California’s oil.

Signs of oil country are visible throughout Taft, a town of 7,000 people southwest of Bakersfield surrounded by thousands of sentinel-like oil rigs pumping day and night. A bronze monument depicting early 20th century work in the oilfields rises in a town square. Noerr’s office is located on the appropriately named Black Gold Court. 

Noerr said California should lead the way with capture and storage technology so that developing countries can eventually adopt it at their high-polluting coal plants. “If we can learn how to do it, and do it right, on a commercial scale, right here, then we can help those people,” Noerr said.

Sonia Sanchez, who lives a half hour drive to the north, in Buttonwillow, on the other side of the company’s oilfields, is more worried about the health of her son than the plight of coal plants overseas. Sanchez owns a notary business that offers document services to farm-laboring Latinos.

California Resources Corp.’s pipelines and injection wells would be built just four miles from the closest home in Buttonwillow, and within 2.5 miles of the closest elementary school, according to the environmental impact report. Researchers have found connections between people living near oilfields and health effects, including respiratory problems, low birthweight babies and premature babies.

Sonia Sanchez stands in front of her notary public office in Buttonwillow on March 29, 2024. Sanchez helps organize local opposition against the recently proposed carbon capture project in the nearby Elk Hills Oil Fields oil field. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local
Sonia Sanchez of Buttonwillow helps organize local opposition to the proposed carbon capture project in the Elk Hills oilfield near her community. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local

At a recent government hearing for the project held in Buttonwillow, Sanchez and others sported lime green T-shirts emblazoned with the words “Stop the Carbon Capture Scam.”

Capturing carbon to extend the life of oilfields would keep endangering children, who “are still developing, they’re young,” Sanchez said. “We have to protect them.”

Burying carbon more than a mile underground

One of the most productive oilfields in America, the Elk Hills Oil and Gas Field sits amid  the winding, hilly terrain between Buttonwillow and Taft, some 30 miles west of Bakersfield. On a recent afternoon, trucks bustled in and out of the gated Elk Hills power plant. The plant dominates the remote, industrial landscape, with igloo-like structures rising in the distance.

It’s in this oilfield in the heart of the San Joaquin Valley that California Resources Corp. plans to launch the state’s first experiment with storing carbon underground. 

Carbon capture technology has been in use since the 1970s in other states and countries, often on coal-fired power plants, ventures that have been criticized as costly and complicated. In the United States, much of the carbon injected underground has been by energy companies to extract oil out wells, a practice banned by California in 2022.

In many projects, a smokestack is equipped with a filtration system to capture greenhouse gases, which are then extracted and compressed, and then transported and stored, often underground. 

Illustration by John Osborn D'Agostino, CalMatters

The Kern County project would remove carbon dioxide from natural gas produced at the company’s oilfields before it is burned at the company’s medium-sized power plant, which provides energy for Pacific Gas & Electric. Carbon also would be captured from a proposed hydrogen plant and a direct air capture project that would use fans and filters to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. 

Richard Venn, a spokesman for California Resources Corp., declined to answer questions from CalMatters or allow company representatives to be interviewed about their project. Information came from EPA and Kern County documents as well as company materials.

The company will build underground pipelines from the plants to the injection wells, spanning about six miles during the initial phase and about eight miles during a second phase, according to county documents.

The project has received draft permits from the EPA for four injection wells. They are the first in the nation to be issued for a depleted oil and natural gas field, the company said in a press release. According to the draft permits, the carbon would be buried 6,000 feet below ground — more than a mile deep into the Monterey Formation, a massive geological structure that is a major source of California’s oil.

California Resources Corp. has said the gas will be trapped, in part, by a 1,000-foot-thick rock layer called the Reef Ridge Shale, according to the documents.

The EPA will require the company to monitor the wells for the rest of the century to guarantee that no groundwater is polluted. Initial examinations suggest there are no drinking water sources threatened by injecting carbon into the reservoir. But the project would use significant amounts of groundwater in a basin that already is overpumped, according to the environmental impact report.

The company must take out a $33 million insurance policy and enact a number of other measures, including plugging 157 oil wells to ensure the carbon dioxide remains underground. 

Carbon capture and storage could be big business for California Resources Corp., which has the most acres of privately held mineral rights in California.  In 2022 the company, which earned revenues of $2.8 billion last year, announced a $500 million investment from Brookfield Asset Management to pursue carbon storage projects. It has several other proposed capture projects in California and earlier this year it merged with Aera Energy, which had been lobbying for policies promoting carbon capture in California and pursuing its own project.

California Resources Corp. said it plans to offset some of its costs with tax credits provided in the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 and could qualify for some state subsidies.

Capturing carbon remains expensive and so far is used only on a small scale. Worldwide last year 41 facilities were operating and 351 were under development, according to an annual report by the think-tank Global Carbon Capture and Storage Institute.

Pavel Molchanov, an analyst with investment bank Raymond James, recently called carbon capture “niche” and said it only reduced greenhouse gases by a “rounding error,” with 0.1% of global emissions captured and stored last year. He said it’s quicker and easier to shut down fossil fuel facilities and shift to cleaner electricity.

Climate experts say the technology can play an important role in reducing emissions. The United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has said carbon capture can be part of the net-zero energy transition along with significant reductions in fossil fuel use. 

Gov. Gavin Newsom, through a spokesman, declined to comment on the California Resources Corp. proposal but he has actively supported carbon capture and storage as a means of lowering the state’s carbon footprint.

California plans to eliminate 94% of oil and gas, mostly by switching to electric vehicles and producing electricity from solar and wind energy. To make up the shortfall, the state will rely on carbon capture to cut 13 million metric tons of carbon from industrial and energy plants annually by 2030 and 25 million by 2045, and remove another 75 million metric tons from the atmosphere through other projects.

These technologies amount to 15% of all of California's planned greenhouse gas cuts. That portion could grow if the state struggles to start up offshore wind and build more rooftop solar. California isn’t on track to meet its climate targets — and isn’t even close, according to a recent analysis.

When state officials deliberated their 2022 climate plan, they characterized carbon capture as reserved for tough-to-decarbonize industries, such as cement manufacturing. But now the state will need a “broader application” of the technology, including for natural gas plants, or California will fail to meet its 2045 emissions targets, Air Resources Board spokesman David Clegern said in an email.

Environmentalists are skeptical about the technology’s climate benefits, noting that methane, a potent greenhouse gas, can still leak out of natural gas plants. They also worry about carbon dioxide leaking from pipelines. 

“Carbon capture has no vital role to play in generating electricity…We don't need it to decarbonize the electricity system,” said David Pomerantz, executive director of the Energy and Policy Institute, an environmental group.

Passionate views in local communities

In Kern County, the Elk Hills project has pitted oil and gas companies against residents and activists who want to see these industries closed. While the oil industry is a big  employer, the company’s carbon project won’t generate many new jobs: about 80 positions for construction and then only five full-time employees to operate the facility.

Kern County is charging California Resources Corp. $250,000 a year for public safety and between $200 to $400 annually on each acreage of the project’s land.

The company must also compensate for fine particles and other pollution that the project would emit into the air by reducing it elsewhere in Kern County, paying for measures such as electric school buses

Oil pumps around the Elk Hills Power Station along Elk Hills Road on March 29, 2024. The Elk Hills oil field is the site of the new carbon capture project that captures carbon emissions from oil and gas facilities and then injects them underground. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local
The Elk Hills oilfield is among the nation's largest oil producers. Photo by Larry Valenzuela, CalMatters/CatchLight Local

On a late weekday evening in February, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and red into the sky above Buttonwillow, about two dozen people entered Sanchez’ storefront. Taking seats, they listened to organizers talk about their opposition to the project. Then they made their way to the community center, where the EPA was conducting a public hearing for the project. 

For three hours, people spoke passionately both in favor and in opposition, with about 50 people stepping up to the microphone. The speakers included workers in orange union shirts, farmers in plaid, politicians, oil industry employees and community residents. Attendees filled folding chairs and the rafters.

Both Sanchez, the Buttonwillow business owner, and Noerr, the Taft mayor, were among those who took their turns at the microphone. 

Noerr spoke of his more than 40 years working in the oil industry in Kern County and praised its “emphasis on safety, on quality and efficiency and environmental stewardship.” He said he would never support a project that would put his community at risk.

Earlier in the hearing, with her teenage son and two other local boys at her side, Sanchez told the crowd about her fears that if the project goes through, it would leave polluting oilfields in her community for many more generations to come.

“We cannot afford to compromise the air we breathe, the water we drink and the soil we rely on for the sake of experimental solutions,” she said. “I refuse to expose my family in any way to unnecessary risks…Our town’s wellbeing and the health of its residents are nonnegotiable.”

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Hurricane-Force Winds Bear Down on California, Latest in Stretch of Extreme Weather

California has been hit hard by extreme weather over the past several weeks

LOS ANGELES (AP) — Record-setting flooding over three days dumped more than a foot of rain on parts of northern California, a fire left thousands under evacuation orders and warnings in Los Angeles County, forecasters issued the first-ever tornado warning in San Francisco and rough seas tore down part of a wharf in Santa Cruz.All of this extreme weather has hit California in the past several weeks, showcasing the state’s particular vulnerability to major weather disasters. Strong storms Tuesday produced waves that forecasters said could reach 35 feet (10.7 meters) around Santa Cruz. The National Weather Service issued a high surf warning until early evening, cautioning people to stay out of the ocean and away from piers. For Chandler Price, meteorologist with the National Weather Service in San Diego, these extreme weather events are both typical and unusual for a La Niña winter, a natural climate cycle that can cause extreme weather across the planet. In California, it means a wetter than average northern region and a drier south. “So far we’ve seen that pattern play out pretty well,” he said, but added, “obviously, you know, the tornado in the Bay Area was atypical. ... We haven’t seen that before, at least not for a very long time.”A storm and wind gusts of up to 60 mph (96 kph) prompted the San Francisco tornado warning that extended to neighboring San Mateo County, which went out to about 1 million people earlier this month. The tornado overturned cars and toppled trees and utility poles near a mall in Scotts Valley, about 70 miles (110 kilometers) south of San Francisco, injuring several people. Tornadoes do occur in California, but they rarely hit populated areas.In San Francisco, local meteorologists said straight-line winds, not a tornado, felled trees onto cars and streets and damaged roofs. The storm also dumped significant snow across the northern Sierra Nevada. F. Martin Ralph, director of the Center for Western Weather and Water Extremes, said climate change means that atmospheric rivers, long stretches of wet air that can produce heavy rains, will be responsible for a greater share of California’s yearly precipitation and the periods in between those big events will be drier. These storms are essential for the water supply but can also be dangerous.“When they are too strong and too many in a row, we end up getting floods,” he said, adding that they drive California’s weather extremes.During storms this week around Santa Cruz, one man was trapped under debris and died and another person was pulled into the ocean. The surf also splintered off the end of a Santa Cruz municipal wharf that was under construction, plunging three people into the ocean. One swam to shore and the other two were rescued. A series of atmospheric rivers are expected through the rest of the week. Overall, this pattern is not unusual — these storms regularly produce high winds, heavy snow in the mountains and torrential rain this time of year.“What’s a little unique about this setup is how closely spaced they are, so there’s not much of a break between them,” said David Lawrence, a meteorologist and emergency response specialist with the National Weather Service.But these storms haven’t stretched very far south, creating dry weather in Southern California that increases fire risk.One of the state’s most recent blazes, the Franklin Fire left some 20,000 people under evacuation orders and warnings and forced students at Pepperdine University to shelter in place. The blaze was fueled by the Santa Anas, the notorious seasonal winds that blow dry air from the interior toward the coast, pushing back moist ocean breezes.Most of the destruction occurred in Malibu, a community on the western corner of Los Angeles known for its beautiful bluffs and the Hollywood-famous Zuma Beach. The fire damaged or destroyed 48 structures and is one of nearly 8,000 wildfires that have scorched more than 1 million acres (more than 404,685 hectares) in the Golden State this year. The Santa Ana winds, which peak in December, have also contributed to warmer-than-average temperatures in parts of the southern state, said Price with the National Weather Service. “Eighty-degree (26.7 Celsius) Christmases are not entirely uncommon around here,” he added, but “there was a couple of high temperature record breaks in the mountains, which are usually less affected by the Santa Anas, and so those were a little unusual.” Phillis reported from St. Louis.Associated Press writers Martha Mendoza and Stefanie Dazio contributed to this story.The Associated Press receives support from the Walton Family Foundation for coverage of water and environmental policy. The AP is solely responsible for all content. For all of AP’s environmental coverage, visit https://apnews.com/hub/climate-and-environment.Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

How to teach climate change so 15-year-olds can act

OECD’s Pisa program will measure the ability of students to take action in response to climate anxiety and ‘take their position and role in the global world’More summer essentialsGet our breaking news email, free app or daily news podcast“It’s going to get hot and everything’s going to be on fire and the oceans will rise,” says a year 11 student, Josh Dorian. “That’s just like the worst of the worst. How do you combat that?“Well, you fix it, you stop it from happening, you take preventive measures,” says Josh, who is studying VCE environmental science at Mount Lilydale Mercy College, a high school in Melbourne’s outer east. “Involving kids in that is scary but I think it’s necessary.”Sign up for Guardian Australia’s breaking news email Continue reading...

“It’s going to get hot and everything’s going to be on fire and the oceans will rise,” says a year 11 student, Josh Dorian. “That’s just like the worst of the worst. How do you combat that?“Well, you fix it, you stop it from happening, you take preventive measures,” says Josh, who is studying VCE environmental science at Mount Lilydale Mercy College, a high school in Melbourne’s outer east. “Involving kids in that is scary but I think it’s necessary.”In 2025, for the first time in nearly a decade, science will be the major focus of the OECD’s program for international student assessment (Pisa) – which runs every three years (give or take Covid interruptions), its focus rotating between reading, maths and science.This year it will measure the knowledge and ability of 15-year-old students from 92 countries and economies to act on climate change, under a new heading: Agency in the Anthropocene.Andreas Schleicher, the OECD’s director of education, describes the refreshed science framework as a “small revolution” addressing students’ capacity to distinguish scientific evidence from misinformation in the context of the “biggest challenge of our times – our environment”.“This is not about a few people who are going to be engineers or scientists in their later lives,” he says. “This is the foundation we want to create for every student.”Dr Goran Lazendic, who works with the Australian Council for Educational Research, is the international survey director responsible for delivering Pisa this year. He says the survey has never solely been about curriculum or content knowledge.“The purpose of Pisa is to understand how young people are prepared to take their position and role in the global world,” he says.That’s why the survey focuses on students approaching the end of their formal education and preparing to take part in further education or work.Giving young people choiceAgency in the Anthropocene tests students’ ability to understand and explain human interactions with Earth systems, Lazendic says, to make informed decisions based on the evaluation of different sources and to demonstrate respect for diverse perspectives as well as hope in seeking solutions.In responding to targeted questions, they will also have to show agency – an understanding of how individual and collective choices can make a difference.Dr Peta White, an associate professor at Deakin University who led the design of Agency in the Anthropocene, says climate change education recognises the Earth’s systems are being changed through human interaction.White, a former teacher, has decades of experience researching environmental science and climate change education.Many young people understand the problems, she says, but don’t know what to do about them.“We don’t teach an understanding by looking at what the most fearful climate impact is,” she says. “What’s important is to allow young people to appreciate the context that we’re in and be able to move forward.”When young people have agency, they can make informed decisions taking into account the complexity of Earth’s systems, diverse sources of knowledge and different perspectives, White says.It’s about understanding their role in the ecosystem. “Not as a pinnacle up the top, but as a player in a whole range of other players in an ecosystem. They’re part of a system, which means they have to act responsibly in the system.”skip past newsletter promotionSign up to Five Great ReadsEach week our editors select five of the most interesting, entertaining and thoughtful reads published by Guardian Australia and our international colleagues. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Saturday morningPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionThis world is going to be ours in 20, 30 yearsAt Mount Lilydale Mercy College, students tackle environmental issues and sustainability across a variety of subjects by working on real examples. The approach has been recognised for fostering responsible, community-oriented citizens.For one project, Josh’s class investigated the effects of logging on the habitat of the endangered leadbeater’s possum, in nearby Toolangi state forest.“We went out in the forest, we saw first-hand,” he says. The students learned that leadbeater’s possums rely on old-growth trees with hollows, and observed how few there were in the forest.Other students constructed nesting boxes to help make up for the lack of hollow-bearing trees.‘Too big to even think about’In Australia, climate change in education has often been caught up in politics. In 2019 the then prime minister, Scott Morrison, said it was a source of “needless anxiety” for children, and it was barely mentioned in the curriculum. Coverage has increased since 2022.Amelia Pearson, at the Monash climate change communication research hub, says there have been more “climate change dot points” added to the curriculum, but mainly in subjects such as science and geography.“Climate change impacts every area of society and our lives,” she says. “So it’s really important that people who might not engage, particularly with [science, technology, engineering, maths], still have the opportunity to learn about these different challenges.”Education isn’t about persuading children to think a certain way, she says, but providing a non-political space to understand the issues and make up their own minds.Pearson manages Climate Classrooms, an initiative that brings teachers together with climate scientists and energy experts to design lesson plans and activities. The approach provides teachers with the opportunity to ask questions about complex – and sometimes contentious – concepts such as renewable energy, nuclear power, carbon offsets and net zero – “big ideas and terms that aren’t always distilled or made accessible”.Australia is a relative latecomer when it comes to embedding climate change in education, says Russell Tytler, a professor at Deakin University.Tytler, who specialises in science education and was involved in designing the Pisa science framework, says Pisa is highly influential in education policies around the world.When the results from Pisa 2025 are in, every country will be scored on young people’s understanding of climate change and their role in seeking solutions, he says. There are already signs that some countries are looking to reflect the approach in their education systems.White, with other educators and researchers, is calling for an Australian climate change education strategy to incorporate learning across all subjects and levels.“Climate change is often too big to even think about,” White says.It requires complex understanding and there are big emotions involved. What works in education, she says, is breaking things down and focusing on what people can do individually and collectively in a local context.“This world is going to be ours in 20, 30 years,” Josh says. “So our awareness of the issue, and our fears need to be acknowledged.”It can be confronting for young people whose futures aren’t looking so lucky, he says.“Education is one of the first steps you can take towards fixing the issue.”

Spending Christmas With “Dr. Doom”

This story was originally published by Grist and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. I was 11 years old the year my older stepsister brought her high school boyfriend home for the first time. It was Thanksgiving 2006, and his Southern manners fit right in as we bantered between mouthfuls of cornbread stuffing, fried okra, […]

This story was originally published by Grist and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. I was 11 years old the year my older stepsister brought her high school boyfriend home for the first time. It was Thanksgiving 2006, and his Southern manners fit right in as we bantered between mouthfuls of cornbread stuffing, fried okra, and marshmallow-topped sweet potato casserole. Then, in the overstuffed lull before the desserts were served, my dad plunked his laptop in the center of the table. He opened it up and began clicking through a PowerPoint presentation chock full of data on ice sheet melt and global atmospheric carbon dioxide concentration.  My stepsister’s eyes grew wide with embarrassment. In an effort to welcome her sweetheart to the family, my dad had rolled out his version of a red carpet: one of his many family lectures on the horrors of climate change.  This wasn’t the first—or last—time my dad’s climate obsession took center stage at our family gatherings. On that particular occasion, he was doling out factoids about Arctic amplification—the prevalence of which was then a debate among climate scientists. It was just a warm-up to a typical holiday season spent quibbling over the ethics of farmed Christmas trees and openly scoffing at scientific inaccuracies during a movie theater showing of Happy Feet, the year’s seasonal offering about a dancing penguin named Mumble. A month later, on Christmas Eve, he forwarded me an email about how Santa Claus’ body would disintegrate if he were to travel through the atmosphere at the speeds necessary to meet his seasonal duties, adding a personal note: “Not to mention the emissions!” Over the years, these tendencies earned him the family nickname “Dr. Doom”—a nod to his university professor title and compulsive need to share terrifying facts about our warming world. My dad hammed it up, interrupting his own lamentations by hooting out, “We’re all gonna die!” in a cartoonish falsetto. More than anything, it was a term of endearment. After all, we knew other households that spent their holidays arguing over whether climate change was even real. Many of us know a Dr. Doom in our lives, or at the very least, a pessimist with a particular fixation. We each have our own ways of responding to it, such as my brother’s pragmatism, my stepmom’s knee-jerk optimism, my stepsister’s exasperation. Or, perhaps you are the doomer yourself.  I’m usually tempted to respond with, “I see hope in the next generation.” But doomerism—a label often used to describe climate defeatists—doesn’t typically leave room to talk about a better future. It’s a contagious kind of despair, often too credible to dismiss. Nowadays, my brother and I both work in climate-related fields, undeniably thanks to Dr. Doom’s influence. But growing up, it only took a few days of dad’s soapboxing before I’d tune out of anything climate-related until the New Year. This Christmas, as we once again prepare to pass around the cranberry sauce and discuss the end of the world, I can’t help but wonder how my dad became Dr. Doom. And in a world of rising doomerism, what influence do such tidings have on others? My dad’s journey to becoming “Dr. Doom” started with his formal training as a tropical ecologist. Until the early 2000s, his work meant trudging through rainforests, studying photosynthesis while battling mosquitoes. Then, the wear of human activity on his surroundings became too much to bear. He switched gears and has since spent his career leap-frogging between climate education jobs—from director of an environmental science program at the University of Idaho to president of a small school in Maine, which, in 2012, he led to become the first college to divest fully from fossil fuels. Those entrenched in science, like my dad, seem to be especially susceptible to climate despair. That’s according to experts like Rebecca Weston, the co-executive director of the Climate Psychology Alliance of North America, a community of mental health professionals trained to address the emotional and psychological challenges emerging in our warming world. Many in scientific fields, Weston says, are first to document and review the data behind irreversible loss. The facts of the crisis are so dire that despair seems to be a hazard for many—scientists or not. After all, a study by researchers at the Yale Program on Climate Change Communication found that some 7 percent of US adults report potentially serious levels of psychological distress about climate change. Gale Sinatra, a professor of psychology at the University of Southern California’s Rossier School of Education who studies how people learn about climate change, put it more simply: “Your dad’s problem is that he knows too much.” The issue only gets worse when the climate-informed try to share what they know. In a short-lived position in 2007 as science advisor to the Florida state government (back when then-Governor Charlie Crist would actually acknowledge “climate change”) my dad was silenced during a presentation to the legislature. A report later said that the “awkward” situation arose when a Republican senator took issue with a discussion topic that “had not yet been accepted as fact.” According to my dad, the controversy stemmed from his decision to share the famous “hockey stick” graph, a data visual that shows that global average temperatures began spiking after human societies industrialized.   “We’re starting to understand it as moral injury,” said Kristan Childs, co-chair of a committee to support climate scientists with the Climate Psychology Alliance, referring to a psychological phenomenon that happens when people witness actions that violate their beliefs or damage their conscience. “They’ve been informing people for so long, and there’s just such a betrayal because people are not believing them, or are not doing enough to act on it.” Like many, my dad’s response to this was to get louder—and darker. There’s conflicting research on how different kinds of messaging can affect people’s behavior. Some studies show that those experiencing distress are also more active, while others say that emphasizing worst-case scenarios, like so-called climate “tipping points,” is an ineffective strategy that can overwhelm and de-motivate audiences instead. It can also backfire on a personal level: Listeners of the podcast “This American Life” may be familiar with a story about a climate activist dad whose zeal led to his children cutting him out of their lives.  As a journalist on the climate beat, I’ve interviewed dozens of self-described “doomers,” and yet I’ve found the term is a bit of a misnomer. While many fixate on the worst possible climate scenarios, they’re generally not quitters. As Childs put it, “I don’t know anyone who’s just given up on it all.” Instead, nearly all have dedicated their lives to addressing climate change. And they can’t help but evangelize, warning everybody within earshot of the ways the coming century could change their lives.  Throughout these interviews, I’m tacitly looking for any insight that might help my own Dr. Doom. (Recently, I accompanied my dad to a physical therapy appointment where, upon seeing a disposable blood pressure cuff, he attempted to regale his doctor with facts about the greenhouse gas emissions associated with the US health care system.) Childs might just have some. She offers a 10-step program for professionals who work in science-oriented fields, affiliated with a larger collection of support groups offered by the Good Grief Network, a nonprofit organization dedicated to processing emotions on climate change.  “The group work is powerful because it really, really helps dissolve the sense of isolation,” Childs said. As she spoke, I shifted uncomfortably, wondering how many times my teenage tendency to tune out or respond flippantly made my dad feel I was invalidating his concerns. The best place to start is often the hardest: acknowledging how bad the problem is. “It’s actually helpful to give people a place to share their biggest fears,” she said, adding that the typical workplace culture in scientific fields discourages expressing emotions. “Somehow some acceptance of how bad it is, and the fact that we can then still stay engaged, shifts the question to who we can be in these times.”   Weston agrees that entirely erasing climate anxiety isn’t realistic, especially as the effects of Earth’s changing atmosphere become more apparent and frightening. Instead, her group suggests reframing ideas of what having a meaningful impact looks like. “It depends on breaking through a kind of individualist understanding of achievement. It’s about facing something that will be resolved past our own lifetimes,” she said. My dad has spent his career chasing that elusive sense of fulfillment—never quite satisfied with the work he’s doing. But lately, he’s found a reason to stay put. In 2019, he returned to my hometown to teach climate change to undergraduates at the University of Florida. Now and again, I’ve wondered how these 18- to 22-year-olds, many of whom grew up in the increasingly red state, respond to his doomsaying. This year, while home around Thanksgiving, I sat in on his last lecture of the semester—a doozy on how economic systems can destroy natural resources. His students seemed completely at ease—chatting with him at the beginning of class, easily participating when he asked questions. I was already surprised. “He’s just sharing the facts,” one of his students told me, when I asked a group of them about his teaching style after the class.  Another quickly interjected: “He’s too dogmatic. It’s super depressing, it’s super doom.” Others nodded.  A third chimed in: “It helps me feel motivated.”  Later that week, while I was reporting a different story at a local climate event, both his former students and local activists flagged me down to say how much they appreciated my dad’s courses and op-eds in local newspapers.  “We need all sorts of climate communication. People are responsive to different messages,” said Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, the markedly anti-doomer author of What If We Get It Right?, a recent book that puts possibility at the center of climate action. In 2019, a Yale study on how people respond to different messaging tactics underscored this point—finding that “hope is not always good, and doubt is not always bad.” For Johnson, getting through the climate crisis starts with who you surround yourself with. “This is not solitary work. Individual changemakers are not really a thing,” she said. “We never know the ripples that we’re going to have.” The Christmas stockings on the mantle at my dad’s house haven’t changed in years, but the dinner conversations have. Now, instead of trying to brush aside Dr. Doom’s digressions, we lean in. Our evenings are spent butting heads over the recent climate optimism book, Not the End of the World, by data scientist Hannah Ritchie; swapping notes on heat pumps; and debating how to make the most of used-EV tax credits. My baby nephew, Auggie, of the latest generation to be saddled with our hopes and fears, brightens the room with his cooing at all manner of round fruits and toy trucks.  Between sips from warm mugs, my dad leans back in his chair and frowns at some news on his phone’s screen. “The wheels are really coming off the wagon, kids. Humanity faces an existential threat,” he says, to no one in particular. From the next room, my stepmom calls, “The sky’s been falling since I met you, Stephen.” It’s hard not to smile. Who knows how many people my dad has influenced, or if he will ever feel satisfied with his mission. But as his doomy, gloomy self, he’s built a community and family that share his values. At that moment, I find myself thinking of something Childs told me: “You cannot protect your kids from climate change. But you can protect them from being alone with climate change.”  In our changing world, these conversations feel like something to be thankful for. 

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