Cookies help us run our site more efficiently.

By clicking “Accept”, you agree to the storing of cookies on your device to enhance site navigation, analyze site usage, and assist in our marketing efforts. View our Privacy Policy for more information or to customize your cookie preferences.

Will burying biomass underground curb climate change?

News Feed
Thursday, July 18, 2024

On April 11, a small company called Graphyte began pumping out beige bricks, somewhat the consistency of particle board, from its new plant in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. The bricks don’t look like much, but they come with a lofty goal: to help stop climate change. Graphyte, a startup backed by billionaire Bill Gates’ Breakthrough Energy Ventures, will bury its bricks deep underground, trapping carbon there. The company bills it as the largest carbon dioxide removal project in the world. Scientists have long warned of the dire threat posed by global warming. It’s gotten so bad though that the long-sought mitigation, cutting carbon dioxide emissions from every sector of the economy, might not be enough of a fix. To stave off the worst — including large swaths of the Earth exposed to severe heat waves, water scarcity, and crop failures — some experts say there is a deep need to remove previously emitted carbon, too. And that can be done anywhere on Earth — even in places not known for climate-friendly policies, like Arkansas. Graphyte aims to store carbon that would otherwise be released from plant material as it burns or decomposes at a competitive sub-$100 per metric ton, and it wants to open new operations as soon as possible, single-handedly removing tens of thousands of tons of carbon annually, said Barclay Rogers, the company’s founder and CEO. Nevertheless, that’s nowhere near the amount of carbon that will have to be removed to register as a blip in global carbon emissions. “I’m worried about our scale of deployment,” he said. “I think we need to get serious fast.” Hundreds of carbon removal startups have popped up over the past few years, but the fledgling industry has made little progress so far. That leads to the inevitable question: Could Graphyte and companies like it actually play a major role in combating climate change? And will a popular business model among these companies, inviting other companies to voluntarily buy “carbon credits” for those buried bricks, actually work? “I’m worried about our scale of deployment. I think we need to get serious fast.” Whether carbon emissions are cut to begin with, or pulled out of the atmosphere after they’ve already been let loose, climate scientists stress that there is no time to waste. The clock began ticking years ago, with the arrival of unprecedented fires and floods, superstorms, and intense droughts around the world. But carbon removal, as it’s currently envisioned, also poses additional sociological, economic, and ethical questions. Skeptics, for instance, say it could discourage more pressing efforts on cutting carbon emissions, leaving some experts wondering whether it will even work at all. Still, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the world’s forefront group of climate experts, is counting on carbon removal technology to dramatically scale up. If the industry is to make a difference, experimentation and research and development should be done quickly, within the next few years, said Gregory Nemet, professor of public affairs who studies low-carbon innovation at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “Then after that is the time to really start going big and scaling up so that it becomes climate relevant,” he added. “Scale-up is a big challenge.” At Graphyte’s Arkansas facility, called Loblolly after a regional pine tree, chugging machinery takes unwanted wood and plant matter and casts it into 3-by-4-by-6-inch bricks — slightly larger than the red bricks used to build houses. Graphyte’s bricks are mostly made of carbon compounds, and they’re made so that they don’t decompose while they’re stored underground in former gravel mines, thereby preventing the emission of some greenhouse gases. The technologies at Graphyte’s new processing facility are fairly simple. Front-end loaders at the plant feed biomass, like wood chips from nearby sawmills and rice hulls from rice production processing, into a series of machines, which direct the tiny biomass bits through a machine called a hammer mill, to reduce them down to a uniform particle size; through a rotary dryer about the length of a tractor trailer; and then into a briquettor to crush them into dense bricks. The bricks are then encapsulated in film which, in addition to the low moisture of the materials inside, prevent the bricks from rotting and keep the greenhouse gases stowed away. The uniform bricks each contain the equivalent of about 1.8 kilograms, or nearly 4 pounds, of carbon dioxide. The bricks will be stored at a former gravel mine, where they will sit undisturbed for centuries. In that distant future, were some of the film and other barriers to break down, some of the carbon could return to the environment. By then, Nemet said, if carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere have returned to pre-industrial amounts, humanity may no longer need a carbon removal industry. Graphyte’s plant can so far store 15,000 metric tons of carbon annually, but the company aims to ramp up to a full capacity of 50,000 tons annually, which means churning out around 90,000 bricks every day. According to consensus climate projections, humanity might need carbon removal until 2100 or later, but the company said it could keep the facility, as well as planned ones, running for decades without exhausting biomass sources. “One of the nice things about our process, about carbon casting, is that it’s what we like to call biomass agnostic, meaning we don’t really care what type of biomass,” said Hannah Murnen, Graphyte’s chief technology officer. “Because we’re simply drying, densifying, and encapsulating, it doesn’t need to be a particular ash content or heating level or anything like that.” With the company’s current suppliers in Arkansas, she added, it already has up to half a million tons of biomass to work with every year. People have researched carbon removal since at least the 1990s. But in the last couple of years, hype has ramped up and startups have popped up, in part due to a boost in funding. Part of this recent shift may have come from the 2015 Paris climate agreement’s call to prevent global temperatures from rising by more than 1.5 Celsius, or temporarily overshooting it and then cooling down to safer levels, said David Keith, head of the Climate Systems Engineering initiative at the University of Chicago and lead author of a special IPCC report on carbon storage. An influential 2018 IPCC report laid out this scenario, which gave carbon removal a larger role than in others. “I think that did help to drive the talk about carbon removal,” he said, because at that point, startups and government agencies began arguing for 10 gigatons of carbon removal by 2050. Researchers and companies are exploring several approaches, and each has pros and cons. Biomass carbon removal, like that at Graphyte, is relatively cheap and easy, and can store carbon indefinitely; the facilities involved can also have low carbon footprints. In the last couple of years, hype has ramped up and carbon removal startups have popped up, in part due to a boost in funding. Other biomass techniques are under development. Among them is a project by the startup Vaulted Deep, which has funding from Frontier, an initiative backed by major technology companies including Stripe, Alphabet, and Meta. Vaulted Deep’s idea is to inject a slurry of biomass, including different material than used by Graphyte, such as carbon-rich sewage and manure, into empty salt caverns of central Kansas. The caverns would store carbon that would have otherwise returned to the environment and released carbon dioxide and methane. Their technology involves pumping through fissures in the ground and squirting the carbon-rich material thousands of feet down, beneath a rock layer that should be impermeable for centuries. “We use the same geologies that have kept hydrocarbons underground for millions of years,” said Julia Reichelstein, the company’s cofounder and CEO. Vaulted Deep staff describe it as similar to fracking, but without toxic chemical additives and without inducing earthquakes. Reichelstein said they plan to remove 30,000 tons of carbon over the next year, by May 2025. They’re endeavoring to soon expand and build more such facilities elsewhere in North America. Other biomass efforts require less technology, such as reforestation — planting millions or more trees — and they’re also simple to deploy. Still, the method can be difficult to measure and monitor, and the storage can be vulnerable if, say, a wildfire wipes out a dedicated forest. There are other approaches, too, each with different trade-offs. One such approach, called enhanced rock weathering, involves spreading finely ground silicate rocks, like basalt, on the ground or the ocean, which absorb carbon dioxide from the air as they weather in the rain. Here, side effects could include the erosion of silicate minerals into ecosystems or crops, in addition to the energy cost of mining, crushing, and transporting the rocks. There are also contraptions that directly suck carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, which use chemical reactions to trap carbon dioxide from the air and release it in liquid or solid forms for storage or for other uses. Proponents point out that this has the benefit of removing greenhouse gases directly out of the air, where they’re currently warming the planet, and relevant research and development has received considerable commercial and government support, including tax incentives in the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. But so far, the technology remains much too expensive, costing hundreds of dollars per ton, according to Sinéad Crotty, the director of the nonprofit Carbon Containment Lab. There are other downsides. Some direct air capture technology, for instance, uses considerable amounts of water and energy. Researchers have also proposed various ways of extracting carbon dioxide from oceans, such as the California-based Equatic, which runs an electric current through seawater, separating it into hydrogen and oxygen and taking out the CO2, which is then stored as calcium carbonate. Such approaches remain hypothetical for now, as they’re at the research and development stage, or with a few pilot programs in the works. Each approach comes with its own strengths, risks, and economics, making them difficult to compare, Crotty said. Ultimately though, she added, for any proposed response to the climate crisis, it comes down to one question: “Where is the lowest-hanging fruit where you can have the largest impact on climate as quickly as possible?” If there are truly climate benefits from carbon removal projects, the proof will be slow to emerge. Even if one thousand large carbon removal facilities sprang up around the globe in an instant, it could take decades before they make a dent in global temperatures. “Carbon removal works well if you do it for a long time, but it’s not good for short-term cooling,” Keith said. That’s why, if humanity goes full bore into carbon removal, it has to be accompanied with aggressive, across-the-board emissions cutting right now, he argues. Regardless of climate actions taken, annual global average temperature will likely reach 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels soon, possibly within the next five years. Then, depending on the world’s climate progress, it could subsequently exceed the dangerous 2-degree threshold in the 2040s, according to the IPCC’s 2023 report. If policymakers and the fossil fuel industry continue business as usual, even 2.5 degrees isn’t far off, coming as soon as a decade later. The majority of hundreds of climate scientists involved in IPCC reports expect global warming to reach 2.5 degrees or worse, according to a recent survey by The Guardian. “Where is the lowest-hanging fruit where you can have the largest impact on climate as quickly as possible?” Or perhaps, industry leaders and policymakers will defy those bleak expectations. In a best-case scenario, temperatures could peak before reaching that 2-degree mark, but clearly such a shift means substantial economy — and industry-wide changes in a rather short time. For this to play out, massively cutting carbon emissions across almost all industries is necessary but not sufficient, Keith said. Companies would need to converge on a few dominant designs — which may or may not look like what Graphyte and Vaulted Deep are doing — while relevant policies and regulations get worked out, said Nemet, the University of Wisconsin-Madison public affairs and low-carbon technologies researcher. This scenario would involve scaling up the industry to make up for some 10 to 15 percent of global carbon reductions, he said. But that would mean growing the industry’s impact by around 30 to 40 percent annually, every year, for the next quarter century. That’s almost unprecedented, but the explosion of other nascent industries — including the solar and wind energy projects over the past two decades and the rapid growth of electric vehicles over the past few years — show that a massive expansion is possible, Nemet said. Not everyone’s convinced by the hype. A brief report released by a United Nations panel last year had a mostly negative assessment of engineering-based carbon removal approaches, stating that they’re “technologically and economically unproven, especially at scale, and pose unknown environmental and social risks.” The same panel gave much better marks to natural, or land-based carbon removal activities like reforestation and agroforestry, which incorporates trees in agricultural land use. Based on IPCC reports and other research, the U.N. experts state that those approaches have already been shown to be proven, safe, and cost-effective with economic, environmental, and social benefits. These land-based approaches could quickly reach the necessary scale, and the techniques could account for 2.6 billion tons of annual carbon reductions by 2030, according to a 2017 study by Nature Conservancy researchers. Advocates of the approach include Campbell Moore, The Nature Conservancy’s managing director of carbon markets. “Most of nature’s made of carbon, more or less. Your average tree is going to be about 70 percent composed of carbon,” he said. “Through reforestation, protecting forests that are in danger, and improving the way we manage not just forests but also grasslands, wetlands, and agricultural lands, we can sequester and store additional carbon in the biomass of plants around the world.” But land-based approaches haven’t received as much attention as engineering or technology-based approaches in recent years, for multiple reasons. The effectively permanent storage of carbon that companies like Graphyte and Vaulted Deep claim to provide is a major advantage, while a forest or grassland might burn in a fire tomorrow, as all those no-longer-stored greenhouse gases go up in flames. The precise amount of carbon is easily measured — for Graphyte, it’s brick by brick — but a carbon accounting for natural climate solutions, like reducing deforestation, is no simple endeavor. Furthermore, many of those engineering-based activities have the support of prominent Silicon Valley and Wall Street figures, who stand to profit if the carbon removal industry flourishes, while the benefits of nature-based activities are scattered across the Global South, Campbell said. Despite the challenges and the initial costs, carbon removal startups and their backers are plowing ahead, hoping that the industry can make a major impact. Estimates suggest that technology-based carbon removal outfits extracted anywhere from 10,000 to more than a million tons of carbon dioxide in 2023, compared to more than 37 billion tons of global emissions. Within a few years, Graphyte would need to expand, open new facilities, and find reliable customers, while removing the equivalent of hundreds of thousands of tons of carbon dioxide annually. And many, many of its peers would have to do the same. For the formative industry to actually matter to global climate change, it will have to remove up to 10 billion tons every year in the not-too-distant future. Since companies are now at the scale of just tens of thousands per year, the industry is nowhere close to reaching even a tiny fraction of that extremely ambitious target, according to the State of Carbon Dioxide Removal report, released on June 4 by an international team of researchers that includes Nemet. Even at today’s early stage, those researchers found, there’s already a gap between proposed levels of carbon removal and what’s needed to meet the Paris Agreement temperature goal. In order to make things work economically, the carbon removal industry is relying on the market for carbon credits. For decades, that market has been based on carbon offsets, where companies and individuals seek to offset their own carbon emissions by paying to fund forest protection projects and other climate-friendly initiatives around the world. The idea is that each ton of carbon emitted by a particular plane flight, for instance, can be counterbalanced by a ton of carbon saved by a particular forest, and carbon offset groups have sought to be the intermediaries arranging that balance. But carbon offset projects have a poor record, and examples of their failures abound. A 2023 study in Science was particularly revealing about the impacts of carbon offsets. The authors examined 27 forest projects in South American countries, central African countries, and Cambodia. The researchers compared each forest to reference areas that were not protected, and they used remote sensing by satellites to track forest cover. They came to a damning conclusion: Most projects did not significantly reduce deforestation at all — and thus had negligible impact on carbon removal. For the minority that did, they reduced much less than they claimed. “I definitely still believe that forests can be part of the solution for mitigating climate change,” said Erin Sills, a North Carolina State University forest economist and study coauthor. But, she added, buyers in the carbon credit market can’t definitively claim that they’ve offset their carbon emissions. Assessments like this have accumulated, leading to widespread critiques of carbon offsets and to more demand for clearly measurable and accountable carbon removal projects — a demand that companies like Graphyte and Vaulted Deep seek to satisfy with their engineering-based approaches. Many of these companies launch through a major initial investment, such as by Stripe-subsidiary Frontier or Bill Gates’s Breakthrough Energy Ventures or by the federal government’s Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. After that seed funding dries up, the companies transition to a business model based on carbon credits, in the hopes of selling enough credits to continue operating and quickly scale up. In Vaulted’s case, Frontier, along with Rubicon Carbon, count among the company’s first carbon credit customers, rather than seed funders. Advocates like Graphyte’s Rogers want to ensure the market for carbon removal credits avoids the problems and scandals that have plagued the carbon offset market. The U.S. Department of Energy has stated a goal of seeing carbon credit prices below $100 per metric ton. That number has become a commonly used threshold, Crotty said. At the same time, she added, companies need to be able to clearly and precisely measure and report how much carbon they’re storing. The market is built on the conceit that companies won’t simply continue carbon-guzzling business as usual while paying for a few credits, but will instead voluntarily decarbonize what they can and use carbon credits for what they can’t decarbonize, Moore said. For the formative carbon removal industry to actually matter to global climate change, it will have to remove up to 10 billion tons every year in the not-too-distant future. He pointed to a study last October by Ecosystem Marketplace, a Washington D.C.-based nonprofit, which found that companies engaged in the voluntary carbon market are 1.8 times more likely to be decarbonizing than their peers and investing three times more money in their internal decarbonization. “The specter of greenwashing that we’re all worried about, at a system level, is not a huge concern today,” he said. Still, the industry needs “very clear rules” so that it doesn’t become a problem as the market grows, he added. Some suggested rules have begun to emerge, Moore said, such as the international Voluntary Carbon Markets Integrity Initiative, or VCMI, which proposes guidelines, such as for reporting carbon credits and progress toward decarbonization. The U.S. Department of Energy has guidelines for recipients of its grants as well, including accounting for environmental justice concerns, so that carbon removal projects don’t adversely affect communities living in the area. The Biden administration also announced new guidelines at the end of May to support “high-integrity” voluntary carbon markets and to ensure that they “drive ambitious and credible climate action and generate economic opportunity.” These include monitoring, measurement, reporting, and verification protocols on the supply side, so that one credit really means a metric ton of carbon removed. On the demand side, credit purchasers should publicly disclose the kind of credits they’ve bought and which ones are retired credits, where the benefits have taken place, to prevent double-counting. None of the guidelines are binding or enforceable, however, and other experts like Keith believe much more will be needed. “I think all this voluntary stuff and companies claiming to be green is basically greenwashing crap,” he said. For a better model, he cites the Clean Air Act, developed during the rise of the environmental movement in the 1960s and ’70s, as that law forced companies to reduce their air pollution emissions, such as of nitrogen dioxide and carbon monoxide. But most greenhouse gas emissions were not among them. An even bigger question looms over carbon removal efforts, which some researchers refer to as a “moral hazard” — the worry that all this attention and investment in a technofix could discourage people from the hard decarbonization work that needs to happen throughout the energy sector, transportation, agriculture, and other industries. “Maybe voters or governments will back off on cutting emissions if there seem to be alternatives? I think the answer to that is that it might be true. It’s a real concern,” Keith said. “But I do not believe it is an ethically sound reason not to work on these things.” For example, he cites an argument that some people drive more dangerously when they have seat belts and airbags, but that’s not a justification for not equipping cars with them. Endeavoring to drive safely — and to decarbonize industries — needs to be the focus, but airbags and seat belts are important too, and they’re still saving lives. "I do not believe it is an ethically sound reason not to work on these things.” That gives Sinéad Crotty, the Carbon Containment Lab researcher, optimism, as she surveys the industry. Approaches like Graphyte’s nondescript beige blocks seem to be effective at preventing greenhouse gasses that would otherwise go into the atmosphere, and there seem to be multiple sustainable sources for such biomass too, she argues. And since carbon credit-purchasing companies actually do seem to be making some, albeit slow, progress toward net-zero, it means there’s indeed demand for locking away tons and tons of carbon to get humanity on a path toward limited global warming. “My feeling is that the next five years will be important for building credibility, separating the bogus from the high-quality credits, and that’s the time when we will see what demand there actually is,” she said. “But right now we’re still building it.” UPDATE: A previous version of this piece stated that Graphyte was pending regulatory approval by environmental authorities in Arkansas. The company received permitting from the state earlier this month. This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article. Read more about climate change solutions

Some climate experts say carbon removal start-ups will limit global warming, but significant questions remain

On April 11, a small company called Graphyte began pumping out beige bricks, somewhat the consistency of particle board, from its new plant in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. The bricks don’t look like much, but they come with a lofty goal: to help stop climate change.

Graphyte, a startup backed by billionaire Bill Gates’ Breakthrough Energy Ventures, will bury its bricks deep underground, trapping carbon there. The company bills it as the largest carbon dioxide removal project in the world.

Scientists have long warned of the dire threat posed by global warming. It’s gotten so bad though that the long-sought mitigation, cutting carbon dioxide emissions from every sector of the economy, might not be enough of a fix. To stave off the worst — including large swaths of the Earth exposed to severe heat waves, water scarcity, and crop failures — some experts say there is a deep need to remove previously emitted carbon, too. And that can be done anywhere on Earth — even in places not known for climate-friendly policies, like Arkansas.

Graphyte aims to store carbon that would otherwise be released from plant material as it burns or decomposes at a competitive sub-$100 per metric ton, and it wants to open new operations as soon as possible, single-handedly removing tens of thousands of tons of carbon annually, said Barclay Rogers, the company’s founder and CEO. Nevertheless, that’s nowhere near the amount of carbon that will have to be removed to register as a blip in global carbon emissions. “I’m worried about our scale of deployment,” he said. “I think we need to get serious fast.”

Hundreds of carbon removal startups have popped up over the past few years, but the fledgling industry has made little progress so far. That leads to the inevitable question: Could Graphyte and companies like it actually play a major role in combating climate change? And will a popular business model among these companies, inviting other companies to voluntarily buy “carbon credits” for those buried bricks, actually work?

“I’m worried about our scale of deployment. I think we need to get serious fast.”

Whether carbon emissions are cut to begin with, or pulled out of the atmosphere after they’ve already been let loose, climate scientists stress that there is no time to waste. The clock began ticking years ago, with the arrival of unprecedented fires and floods, superstorms, and intense droughts around the world. But carbon removal, as it’s currently envisioned, also poses additional sociological, economic, and ethical questions. Skeptics, for instance, say it could discourage more pressing efforts on cutting carbon emissions, leaving some experts wondering whether it will even work at all.

Still, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the world’s forefront group of climate experts, is counting on carbon removal technology to dramatically scale up. If the industry is to make a difference, experimentation and research and development should be done quickly, within the next few years, said Gregory Nemet, professor of public affairs who studies low-carbon innovation at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “Then after that is the time to really start going big and scaling up so that it becomes climate relevant,” he added. “Scale-up is a big challenge.”


At Graphyte’s Arkansas facility, called Loblolly after a regional pine tree, chugging machinery takes unwanted wood and plant matter and casts it into 3-by-4-by-6-inch bricks — slightly larger than the red bricks used to build houses. Graphyte’s bricks are mostly made of carbon compounds, and they’re made so that they don’t decompose while they’re stored underground in former gravel mines, thereby preventing the emission of some greenhouse gases.

The technologies at Graphyte’s new processing facility are fairly simple. Front-end loaders at the plant feed biomass, like wood chips from nearby sawmills and rice hulls from rice production processing, into a series of machines, which direct the tiny biomass bits through a machine called a hammer mill, to reduce them down to a uniform particle size; through a rotary dryer about the length of a tractor trailer; and then into a briquettor to crush them into dense bricks.

The bricks are then encapsulated in film which, in addition to the low moisture of the materials inside, prevent the bricks from rotting and keep the greenhouse gases stowed away. The uniform bricks each contain the equivalent of about 1.8 kilograms, or nearly 4 pounds, of carbon dioxide. The bricks will be stored at a former gravel mine, where they will sit undisturbed for centuries. In that distant future, were some of the film and other barriers to break down, some of the carbon could return to the environment. By then, Nemet said, if carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere have returned to pre-industrial amounts, humanity may no longer need a carbon removal industry.

Graphyte’s plant can so far store 15,000 metric tons of carbon annually, but the company aims to ramp up to a full capacity of 50,000 tons annually, which means churning out around 90,000 bricks every day.

According to consensus climate projections, humanity might need carbon removal until 2100 or later, but the company said it could keep the facility, as well as planned ones, running for decades without exhausting biomass sources.

“One of the nice things about our process, about carbon casting, is that it’s what we like to call biomass agnostic, meaning we don’t really care what type of biomass,” said Hannah Murnen, Graphyte’s chief technology officer. “Because we’re simply drying, densifying, and encapsulating, it doesn’t need to be a particular ash content or heating level or anything like that.” With the company’s current suppliers in Arkansas, she added, it already has up to half a million tons of biomass to work with every year.


People have researched carbon removal since at least the 1990s. But in the last couple of years, hype has ramped up and startups have popped up, in part due to a boost in funding.

Part of this recent shift may have come from the 2015 Paris climate agreement’s call to prevent global temperatures from rising by more than 1.5 Celsius, or temporarily overshooting it and then cooling down to safer levels, said David Keith, head of the Climate Systems Engineering initiative at the University of Chicago and lead author of a special IPCC report on carbon storage. An influential 2018 IPCC report laid out this scenario, which gave carbon removal a larger role than in others. “I think that did help to drive the talk about carbon removal,” he said, because at that point, startups and government agencies began arguing for 10 gigatons of carbon removal by 2050.

Researchers and companies are exploring several approaches, and each has pros and cons. Biomass carbon removal, like that at Graphyte, is relatively cheap and easy, and can store carbon indefinitely; the facilities involved can also have low carbon footprints.

In the last couple of years, hype has ramped up and carbon removal startups have popped up, in part due to a boost in funding.

Other biomass techniques are under development. Among them is a project by the startup Vaulted Deep, which has funding from Frontier, an initiative backed by major technology companies including Stripe, Alphabet, and Meta. Vaulted Deep’s idea is to inject a slurry of biomass, including different material than used by Graphyte, such as carbon-rich sewage and manure, into empty salt caverns of central Kansas. The caverns would store carbon that would have otherwise returned to the environment and released carbon dioxide and methane.

Their technology involves pumping through fissures in the ground and squirting the carbon-rich material thousands of feet down, beneath a rock layer that should be impermeable for centuries. “We use the same geologies that have kept hydrocarbons underground for millions of years,” said Julia Reichelstein, the company’s cofounder and CEO. Vaulted Deep staff describe it as similar to fracking, but without toxic chemical additives and without inducing earthquakes. Reichelstein said they plan to remove 30,000 tons of carbon over the next year, by May 2025. They’re endeavoring to soon expand and build more such facilities elsewhere in North America.

Other biomass efforts require less technology, such as reforestation — planting millions or more trees — and they’re also simple to deploy. Still, the method can be difficult to measure and monitor, and the storage can be vulnerable if, say, a wildfire wipes out a dedicated forest.

There are other approaches, too, each with different trade-offs. One such approach, called enhanced rock weathering, involves spreading finely ground silicate rocks, like basalt, on the ground or the ocean, which absorb carbon dioxide from the air as they weather in the rain. Here, side effects could include the erosion of silicate minerals into ecosystems or crops, in addition to the energy cost of mining, crushing, and transporting the rocks.

There are also contraptions that directly suck carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, which use chemical reactions to trap carbon dioxide from the air and release it in liquid or solid forms for storage or for other uses. Proponents point out that this has the benefit of removing greenhouse gases directly out of the air, where they’re currently warming the planet, and relevant research and development has received considerable commercial and government support, including tax incentives in the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. But so far, the technology remains much too expensive, costing hundreds of dollars per ton, according to Sinéad Crotty, the director of the nonprofit Carbon Containment Lab.

There are other downsides. Some direct air capture technology, for instance, uses considerable amounts of water and energy. Researchers have also proposed various ways of extracting carbon dioxide from oceans, such as the California-based Equatic, which runs an electric current through seawater, separating it into hydrogen and oxygen and taking out the CO2, which is then stored as calcium carbonate. Such approaches remain hypothetical for now, as they’re at the research and development stage, or with a few pilot programs in the works.

Each approach comes with its own strengths, risks, and economics, making them difficult to compare, Crotty said. Ultimately though, she added, for any proposed response to the climate crisis, it comes down to one question: “Where is the lowest-hanging fruit where you can have the largest impact on climate as quickly as possible?”


If there are truly climate benefits from carbon removal projects, the proof will be slow to emerge. Even if one thousand large carbon removal facilities sprang up around the globe in an instant, it could take decades before they make a dent in global temperatures. “Carbon removal works well if you do it for a long time, but it’s not good for short-term cooling,” Keith said. That’s why, if humanity goes full bore into carbon removal, it has to be accompanied with aggressive, across-the-board emissions cutting right now, he argues.

Regardless of climate actions taken, annual global average temperature will likely reach 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels soon, possibly within the next five years. Then, depending on the world’s climate progress, it could subsequently exceed the dangerous 2-degree threshold in the 2040s, according to the IPCC’s 2023 report. If policymakers and the fossil fuel industry continue business as usual, even 2.5 degrees isn’t far off, coming as soon as a decade later. The majority of hundreds of climate scientists involved in IPCC reports expect global warming to reach 2.5 degrees or worse, according to a recent survey by The Guardian.

“Where is the lowest-hanging fruit where you can have the largest impact on climate as quickly as possible?”

Or perhaps, industry leaders and policymakers will defy those bleak expectations. In a best-case scenario, temperatures could peak before reaching that 2-degree mark, but clearly such a shift means substantial economy — and industry-wide changes in a rather short time.

For this to play out, massively cutting carbon emissions across almost all industries is necessary but not sufficient, Keith said. Companies would need to converge on a few dominant designs — which may or may not look like what Graphyte and Vaulted Deep are doing — while relevant policies and regulations get worked out, said Nemet, the University of Wisconsin-Madison public affairs and low-carbon technologies researcher. This scenario would involve scaling up the industry to make up for some 10 to 15 percent of global carbon reductions, he said. But that would mean growing the industry’s impact by around 30 to 40 percent annually, every year, for the next quarter century.

That’s almost unprecedented, but the explosion of other nascent industries — including the solar and wind energy projects over the past two decades and the rapid growth of electric vehicles over the past few years — show that a massive expansion is possible, Nemet said.

Not everyone’s convinced by the hype. A brief report released by a United Nations panel last year had a mostly negative assessment of engineering-based carbon removal approaches, stating that they’re “technologically and economically unproven, especially at scale, and pose unknown environmental and social risks.”

The same panel gave much better marks to natural, or land-based carbon removal activities like reforestation and agroforestry, which incorporates trees in agricultural land use. Based on IPCC reports and other research, the U.N. experts state that those approaches have already been shown to be proven, safe, and cost-effective with economic, environmental, and social benefits.

These land-based approaches could quickly reach the necessary scale, and the techniques could account for 2.6 billion tons of annual carbon reductions by 2030, according to a 2017 study by Nature Conservancy researchers. Advocates of the approach include Campbell Moore, The Nature Conservancy’s managing director of carbon markets. “Most of nature’s made of carbon, more or less. Your average tree is going to be about 70 percent composed of carbon,” he said. “Through reforestation, protecting forests that are in danger, and improving the way we manage not just forests but also grasslands, wetlands, and agricultural lands, we can sequester and store additional carbon in the biomass of plants around the world.”

But land-based approaches haven’t received as much attention as engineering or technology-based approaches in recent years, for multiple reasons. The effectively permanent storage of carbon that companies like Graphyte and Vaulted Deep claim to provide is a major advantage, while a forest or grassland might burn in a fire tomorrow, as all those no-longer-stored greenhouse gases go up in flames.

The precise amount of carbon is easily measured — for Graphyte, it’s brick by brick — but a carbon accounting for natural climate solutions, like reducing deforestation, is no simple endeavor. Furthermore, many of those engineering-based activities have the support of prominent Silicon Valley and Wall Street figures, who stand to profit if the carbon removal industry flourishes, while the benefits of nature-based activities are scattered across the Global South, Campbell said.

Despite the challenges and the initial costs, carbon removal startups and their backers are plowing ahead, hoping that the industry can make a major impact. Estimates suggest that technology-based carbon removal outfits extracted anywhere from 10,000 to more than a million tons of carbon dioxide in 2023, compared to more than 37 billion tons of global emissions. Within a few years, Graphyte would need to expand, open new facilities, and find reliable customers, while removing the equivalent of hundreds of thousands of tons of carbon dioxide annually. And many, many of its peers would have to do the same.

For the formative industry to actually matter to global climate change, it will have to remove up to 10 billion tons every year in the not-too-distant future. Since companies are now at the scale of just tens of thousands per year, the industry is nowhere close to reaching even a tiny fraction of that extremely ambitious target, according to the State of Carbon Dioxide Removal report, released on June 4 by an international team of researchers that includes Nemet. Even at today’s early stage, those researchers found, there’s already a gap between proposed levels of carbon removal and what’s needed to meet the Paris Agreement temperature goal.


In order to make things work economically, the carbon removal industry is relying on the market for carbon credits. For decades, that market has been based on carbon offsets, where companies and individuals seek to offset their own carbon emissions by paying to fund forest protection projects and other climate-friendly initiatives around the world. The idea is that each ton of carbon emitted by a particular plane flight, for instance, can be counterbalanced by a ton of carbon saved by a particular forest, and carbon offset groups have sought to be the intermediaries arranging that balance.

But carbon offset projects have a poor record, and examples of their failures abound.

A 2023 study in Science was particularly revealing about the impacts of carbon offsets. The authors examined 27 forest projects in South American countries, central African countries, and Cambodia. The researchers compared each forest to reference areas that were not protected, and they used remote sensing by satellites to track forest cover. They came to a damning conclusion: Most projects did not significantly reduce deforestation at all — and thus had negligible impact on carbon removal. For the minority that did, they reduced much less than they claimed.

“I definitely still believe that forests can be part of the solution for mitigating climate change,” said Erin Sills, a North Carolina State University forest economist and study coauthor. But, she added, buyers in the carbon credit market can’t definitively claim that they’ve offset their carbon emissions.

Assessments like this have accumulated, leading to widespread critiques of carbon offsets and to more demand for clearly measurable and accountable carbon removal projects — a demand that companies like Graphyte and Vaulted Deep seek to satisfy with their engineering-based approaches. Many of these companies launch through a major initial investment, such as by Stripe-subsidiary Frontier or Bill Gates’s Breakthrough Energy Ventures or by the federal government’s Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. After that seed funding dries up, the companies transition to a business model based on carbon credits, in the hopes of selling enough credits to continue operating and quickly scale up. In Vaulted’s case, Frontier, along with Rubicon Carbon, count among the company’s first carbon credit customers, rather than seed funders. Advocates like Graphyte’s Rogers want to ensure the market for carbon removal credits avoids the problems and scandals that have plagued the carbon offset market.

The U.S. Department of Energy has stated a goal of seeing carbon credit prices below $100 per metric ton. That number has become a commonly used threshold, Crotty said. At the same time, she added, companies need to be able to clearly and precisely measure and report how much carbon they’re storing.

The market is built on the conceit that companies won’t simply continue carbon-guzzling business as usual while paying for a few credits, but will instead voluntarily decarbonize what they can and use carbon credits for what they can’t decarbonize, Moore said.

For the formative carbon removal industry to actually matter to global climate change, it will have to remove up to 10 billion tons every year in the not-too-distant future.

He pointed to a study last October by Ecosystem Marketplace, a Washington D.C.-based nonprofit, which found that companies engaged in the voluntary carbon market are 1.8 times more likely to be decarbonizing than their peers and investing three times more money in their internal decarbonization. “The specter of greenwashing that we’re all worried about, at a system level, is not a huge concern today,” he said. Still, the industry needs “very clear rules” so that it doesn’t become a problem as the market grows, he added.

Some suggested rules have begun to emerge, Moore said, such as the international Voluntary Carbon Markets Integrity Initiative, or VCMI, which proposes guidelines, such as for reporting carbon credits and progress toward decarbonization. The U.S. Department of Energy has guidelines for recipients of its grants as well, including accounting for environmental justice concerns, so that carbon removal projects don’t adversely affect communities living in the area. The Biden administration also announced new guidelines at the end of May to support “high-integrity” voluntary carbon markets and to ensure that they “drive ambitious and credible climate action and generate economic opportunity.” These include monitoring, measurement, reporting, and verification protocols on the supply side, so that one credit really means a metric ton of carbon removed. On the demand side, credit purchasers should publicly disclose the kind of credits they’ve bought and which ones are retired credits, where the benefits have taken place, to prevent double-counting.

None of the guidelines are binding or enforceable, however, and other experts like Keith believe much more will be needed. “I think all this voluntary stuff and companies claiming to be green is basically greenwashing crap,” he said. For a better model, he cites the Clean Air Act, developed during the rise of the environmental movement in the 1960s and ’70s, as that law forced companies to reduce their air pollution emissions, such as of nitrogen dioxide and carbon monoxide. But most greenhouse gas emissions were not among them.

An even bigger question looms over carbon removal efforts, which some researchers refer to as a “moral hazard” — the worry that all this attention and investment in a technofix could discourage people from the hard decarbonization work that needs to happen throughout the energy sector, transportation, agriculture, and other industries.

“Maybe voters or governments will back off on cutting emissions if there seem to be alternatives? I think the answer to that is that it might be true. It’s a real concern,” Keith said. “But I do not believe it is an ethically sound reason not to work on these things.”

For example, he cites an argument that some people drive more dangerously when they have seat belts and airbags, but that’s not a justification for not equipping cars with them. Endeavoring to drive safely — and to decarbonize industries — needs to be the focus, but airbags and seat belts are important too, and they’re still saving lives.

"I do not believe it is an ethically sound reason not to work on these things.”

That gives Sinéad Crotty, the Carbon Containment Lab researcher, optimism, as she surveys the industry. Approaches like Graphyte’s nondescript beige blocks seem to be effective at preventing greenhouse gasses that would otherwise go into the atmosphere, and there seem to be multiple sustainable sources for such biomass too, she argues. And since carbon credit-purchasing companies actually do seem to be making some, albeit slow, progress toward net-zero, it means there’s indeed demand for locking away tons and tons of carbon to get humanity on a path toward limited global warming.

“My feeling is that the next five years will be important for building credibility, separating the bogus from the high-quality credits, and that’s the time when we will see what demand there actually is,” she said. “But right now we’re still building it.”


UPDATE: A previous version of this piece stated that Graphyte was pending regulatory approval by environmental authorities in Arkansas. The company received permitting from the state earlier this month.

This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article.

Read more

about climate change solutions

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

For plants, urban heat islands don’t mimic global warming

Scientists have found that trees in cities respond to higher temperatures differently than those in forests, potentially masking climate impacts.

It’s tricky to predict precisely what the impacts of climate change will be, given the many variables involved. To predict the impacts of a warmer world on plant life, some researchers look at urban “heat islands,” where, because of the effects of urban structures, temperatures consistently run a few degrees higher than those of the surrounding rural areas. This enables side-by-side comparisons of plant responses.But a new study by researchers at MIT and Harvard University has found that, at least for forests, urban heat islands are a poor proxy for global warming, and this may have led researchers to underestimate the impacts of warming in some cases. The discrepancy, they found, has a lot to do with the limited genetic diversity of urban tree species.The findings appear in the journal PNAS, in a paper by MIT postdoc Meghan Blumstein, professor of civil and environmental engineering David Des Marais, and four others.“The appeal of these urban temperature gradients is, well, it’s already there,” says Des Marais. “We can’t look into the future, so why don’t we look across space, comparing rural and urban areas?” Because such data is easily obtainable, methods comparing the growth of plants in cities with similar plants outside them have been widely used, he says, and have been quite useful. Researchers did recognize some shortcomings to this approach, including significant differences in availability of some nutrients such as nitrogen. Still, “a lot of ecologists recognized that they weren’t perfect, but it was what we had,” he says.Most of the research by Des Marais’ group is lab-based, under conditions tightly controlled for temperature, humidity, and carbon dioxide concentration. While there are a handful of experimental sites where conditions are modified out in the field, for example using heaters around one or a few trees, “those are super small-scale,” he says. “When you’re looking at these longer-term trends that are occurring over space that’s quite a bit larger than you could reasonably manipulate, an important question is, how do you control the variables?”Temperature gradients have offered one approach to this problem, but Des Marais and his students have also been focusing on the genetics of the tree species involved, comparing those sampled in cities to the same species sampled in a natural forest nearby. And it turned out there were differences, even between trees that appeared similar.“So, lo and behold, you think you’re only letting one variable change in your model, which is the temperature difference from an urban to a rural setting,” he says, “but in fact, it looks like there was also a genotypic diversity that was not being accounted for.”The genetic differences meant that the plants being studied were not representative of those in the natural environment, and the researchers found that the difference was actually masking the impact of warming. The urban trees, they found, were less affected than their natural counterparts in terms of when the plants’ leaves grew and unfurled, or “leafed out,” in the spring.The project began during the pandemic lockdown, when Blumstein was a graduate student. She had a grant to study red oak genotypes across New England, but was unable to travel because of lockdowns. So, she concentrated on trees that were within reach in Cambridge, Massachusetts. She then collaborated with people doing research at the Harvard Forest, a research forest in rural central Massachusetts. They collected three years of data from both locations, including the temperature profiles, the leafing-out timing, and the genetic profiles of the trees. Though the study was looking at red oaks specifically, the researchers say the findings are likely to apply to trees broadly.At the time, researchers had just sequenced the oak tree genome, and that allowed Blumstein and her colleagues to look for subtle differences among the red oaks in the two locations. The differences they found showed that the urban trees were more resistant to the effects of warmer temperatures than were those in the natural environment.“Initially, we saw these results and we were sort of like, oh, this is a bad thing,” Des Marais says. “Ecologists are getting this heat island effect wrong, which is true.” Fortunately, this can be easily corrected by factoring in genomic data. “It’s not that much more work, because sequencing genomes is so cheap and so straightforward. Now, if someone wants to look at an urban-rural gradient and make these kinds of predictions, well, that’s fine. You just have to add some information about the genomes.”It's not surprising that this genetic variation exists, he says, since growers have learned by trial and error over the decades which varieties of trees tend to thrive in the difficult urban environment, with typically poor soil, poor drainage, and pollution. “As a result, there’s just not much genetic diversity in our trees within cities.”The implications could be significant, Des Marais says. When the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) releases its regular reports on the status of the climate, “one of the tools the IPCC has to predict future responses to climate change with respect to temperature are these urban-to-rural gradients.” He hopes that these new findings will be incorporated into their next report, which is just being drafted. “If these results are generally true beyond red oaks, this suggests that the urban heat island approach to studying plant response to temperature is underpredicting how strong that response is.”The research team included Sophie Webster, Robin Hopkins, and David Basler from Harvard University and Jie Yun from MIT. The work was supported by the National Science Foundation, the Bullard Fellowship at the Harvard Forest, and MIT.

Brisbane 2032 is no longer legally bound to be ‘climate positive’. Will it still leave a green legacy?

Brisbane 2032 was supposed to be the first ‘climate-positive’ Olympic Games. But a quiet change to the host contract puts the commitment in doubt.

When Brisbane was awarded the 2032 Olympic and Paralympic Games, it came with a widely publicised landmark promise: the world’s first “climate-positive” games. The International Olympic Committee had already announced all games would be climate-positive from 2030. It said this meant the games would be required to “go beyond” the previous obligation of reducing carbon emissions directly related to their operations and offsetting or otherwise “compensating” for the rest. In other words, achieving net-zero was no longer sufficient. Now each organising committee would be legally required to remove more carbon from the atmosphere than the games emit. This is in keeping with the most widely cited definition of climate-positive. Both Paris 2024 and Los Angeles 2028 made voluntary pledges. But Brisbane 2032 was the first contractually required to be climate-positive. This was enshrined in the original 2021 Olympic Host Contract, an agreement between the IOC, the State of Queensland, Brisbane City Council and the Australian Olympic Committee. But the host contract has quietly changed since. All references to “climate-positive” have been replaced with weaker terminology. The move was not publicly announced. This fits a broader pattern of Olympic Games promising big on sustainability before weakening or abandoning commitments over time. A quiet retreat from climate positive Research by my team has shown the climate-positive announcement sparked great hope for the future of Brisbane as a regenerative city. We saw Brisbane 2032 as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to radically shift away from the ongoing systemic issues underlying urban development. This vision to embrace genuinely sustainable city design centred on fostering circular economies and net positive development. It would have aligned urban development with ecological stewardship. Beyond just mitigating environmental harm, the games could have set a new standard for sustainability by becoming a catalyst to actively regenerate the natural environment. Yet, on December 7 2023, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) initiated an addendum to the host contract. It effectively downgraded the games’ sustainability obligations. It was signed by Brisbane City Council, the State of Queensland, the Australian Olympic Committee and the IOC between April and May 2024. The commitment for the 2032 Brisbane Games to be climate positive has been removed from the Olympic Host Contract. International Olympic Committee Asked about these amendments, the IOC replied it “took the decision to no longer use the term ‘climate-positive’ when referring to its climate commitments”. But the IOC maintains that: “The requirements underpinning this term, however, and our ambition to address the climate crisis, have not changed”. It said the terminology was changed to ensure that communications “are transparent and easily understood; that they focus on the actions implemented to reduce carbon emissions; and that they are aligned with best practice and current regulations, as well as the principle of continual improvement”. Similarly, a Brisbane 2032 spokesperson told The Conversation the language was changed: to ensure we are communicating in a transparent and easily understood manner, following advice from the International Olympic Committee and recommendations of the United Nations and European Union Green Claims Directive, made in 2023. Brisbane 2032 will continue to plan, as we always have, to deliver a Games that focus on specific measures to deliver a more sustainable Games. But the new wording commits Brisbane 2032 to merely “aiming at removing more carbon from the atmosphere than what the Games project emits”. Crucially, this is no longer binding. The new language makes carbon removal an optional goal rather than a contractual requirement. A stadium in Victoria Park violates the 2032 Olympic Host Contract location requirements. Save Victoria Park, CC BY Aiming high, yet falling short Olympic Games have adopted increasingly ambitious sustainability rhetoric. Yet, action in the real world typically falls short. In our ongoing research with the Politecnico di Torino, Italy, we analysed sustainability commitments since the 2006 Winter Olympics in Turin. We found they often change over time. Initial promises are either watered down or abandoned altogether due to political, financial, and logistical pressures. Construction activities for the Winter Olympic Games 2014 in Sochi, Russia, irreversibly damaged the Western Caucasus – a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Rio 2016 failed to clean up Guanabara Bay, despite its original pledge to reduce pollutants by 80%. Rio also caused large-scale deforestation and wetland destruction. Ancient forests were cleared for PyeongChang 2018 ski slopes. Our research found a persistent gap between sustainability rhetoric and reality. Brisbane 2032 fits this pattern as the original promise of hosting climate-positive games is at risk of reverting to business as usual. Victoria Park controversy In 2021, a KPMG report for the Queensland government analysed the potential economic, social and environmental benefits of the Brisbane 2032 games. It said the government was proposing to deliver the climate-positive commitment required to host the 2032 games through a range of initiatives. This included “repurposing and upgrading existing infrastructure with enhanced green star credentials”. But plans for the Olympic stadium have changed a great deal since then. Plans to upgrade the Brisbane Cricket Ground, commonly known as the Gabba, have been replaced by a new stadium to be built in Victoria Park. Victoria Park is Brisbane’s largest remaining inner-city green space. It is known to Indigenous peoples as Barrambin (the windy place). It is listed on the Queensland Heritage Register due to its great cultural significance. Page 90 of the Olympic Host Contract prohibits permanent construction “in statutory nature areas, cultural protected areas and World Heritage sites”. Local community groups and environmental advocates have vowed to fight plans for a Victoria Park stadium. This may include a legal challenge. The area of Victoria Park (64 hectares) compared with Central Park (341h), Regent’s Park (160h), Bois de Vicennes (995h). Save Victoria Park What next? The climate-positive commitment has been downgraded to an unenforceable aspiration. A new Olympic stadium has been announced in direct violation of the host contract. Will Brisbane 2032 still leave a green legacy? Greater transparency and public accountability are needed. Otherwise, the original plan may fall short of the positive legacy it aspired to, before the Olympics even begin. Marcus Foth receives funding from the Australian Research Council. He is a Senior Associate with Outside Opinion, a team of experienced academic and research consultants. He is chair of the Principal Body Corporate for the Kelvin Grove Urban Village, chair of Brisbane Flight Path Community Alliance, and a member of the Queensland Greens.

Has the UK's most loathed protest group really stopped throwing soup?

Just Stop Oil says it will disband but does this mark an end to the chaos caused by its climate protests?

Has the UK's most loathed protest group really stopped throwing soup?Justin RowlattBBC News Climate EditorJSO HandoutThe climate action group Just Stop Oil has announced it is to disband at the end of April. Its activists have been derided as attention-seeking zealots and vandals and it is loathed by many for its disruptive direct action tactics. It says it has won because its demand that there should be no new oil and gas licences is now government policy. So, did they really win and does this mark an end to the chaos caused by its climate protests?Hayley Walsh's heart was racing as she sat in the audience at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane on 27 January this year. The 42 year-old lecturer and mother of three tried to calm her breathing. Hollywood star Sigourney Weaver was onstage in her West End debut production of Shakespeare's The Tempest. But Hayley, a Just Stop Oil activist, had her own drama planned.As Weaver's Prospero declaimed "Come forth, I say," Hayley sprang from her seat and rushed the stage with Richard Weir, a 60-year-old mechanical engineer from Tyneside. They launched a confetti cannon and unfurled a banner that read "Over 1.5 Degrees is a Global Shipwreck" - a reference to the news that 2024 was the first year to pass the symbolic 1.5C threshold in global average temperature rise, and a nod to the shipwreck theme in the play. It was a classic Just Stop Oil (JSO) action. The target was high profile and would guarantee publicity. The message was simple and presented in the group's signature fluorescent orange.The reaction of those affected was also a classic response to JSO. Amid the boos and whistles you can hear a shout of "idiots". "Drag them off the stage", one audience member can be heard shouting, "I hope you [expletive] get arrested," another says.JSO is a UK-based environmental activist group that aims to end fossil fuel extraction and uses direct action to draw attention to its cause. It has been called a "criminal cult" and its activists branded "eco-loons" by the Sun. The Daily Mail has described it as "deranged" and says its members have "unleashed misery on thousands of ordinary people though their selfish antics".JSO HandoutIt is the group's road protests that have probably caused the most disruption – and public anger.The group has thrown soup at a Van Gogh in the National Gallery, exploded a chalk dust bomb during the World Snooker Championship in Sheffield, smashed a cabinet containing a copy of the Magna Carta at the British Library, sprayed temporary paint on the stones of Stonehenge and even defaced Charles Darwin's grave.But it is the group's road protests that have probably caused the most disruption – and public anger. In November 2022, 45 JSO members climbed gantries around the M25 severely disrupting traffic for over four days. People missed flights, medical appointments and exams as thousands of drivers were delayed for hours. The cost to the Metropolitan Police was put at £1.1 million.Just Stop Oil was born out of Extinction Rebellion (XR). XR – founded in 2018 - brought thousands of people onto the streets in what were dubbed "festivals of resistance". They came to a peak in April 2019, when protestors brought parts of the capital to a halt for more than a week and plonked a large pink boat in the middle of Oxford Circus.The spectacle and disruption XR caused generated massive media attention, but the police were furious. Hundreds of officers were diverted from frontline duties and by the end of 2019 the bill for policing the protests had reached £37m.And behind the scenes XR was riven by furious debates about tactics. Many inside the movement said it should be less confrontational and disruptive but a hard core of activists argued it would be more effective to double down on direct action.It became clear that there was room for what Sarah Lunnon, one of the co-founders of Just Stop Oil, calls "a more radical flank". They decided a new, more focused operation was needed, modelled on earlier civil disobedience movements like the Suffragettes, Gandhi's civil disobedience campaigns and the civil rights movement in the US.The group was formally launched on Valentine's Day, 2022. It was a very different animal to XR. Instead of thousands of people taking part in street carnivals, JSO's actions involved a few committed activists. A small strategy group oversaw the campaign and meticulously planned its activities. A mobilisation team worked to recruit new members, and another team focused on supporting activists after they were arrested.Getty ImagesJust Stop Oil protesters invading a Rugby matchThe dozens of actions the group has carried out generated lots of publicity, but also massive public opposition. There were confrontations between members of the public and protestors and an outcry from politicians across all the main political parties.The police said they needed more powers to deal with this new form of protest and they got them. New offences were created including interfering with national infrastructure, "locking on" – chaining or gluing yourself to something – and tunnelling underground. Causing a public nuisance also became a potential crime – providing the police with a powerful new tool to use against protestors who block roads.In the four years since it was formed dozens of the group's supporters have been jailed. Five activists were handed multi-year sentences for their role in the M25 actions in 2022. Those were reduced on appeal earlier this month but are still the longest jail terms for non-violent civil disobedience ever issued.Senior JSO members deny the crackdown had anything to do with the group's decision to "hang up the hi-vis" – as its statement this week announcing the end of campaign put it.JSO's public position is that it has won its battle. "Just Stop Oil's initial demand to end new oil and gas is now government policy, making us one of the most successful civil resistance campaigns in recent history," the group claimed.The government has said it does not plan to issue any new licences for oil and gas production but strongly denies its policies have a link to JSO. Furthermore, the Prime Minister's official spokesperson told journalists: "We have been very clear when it comes to oil and gas that it has a future for decades to come in our energy mix."And the group's wider goal – to end the production of oil and gas – has manifestly not been achieved. The members of the group I spoke to for this article all agree the climate crisis has deepened.AFPA protest at the Aston Martin showroom in central LondonIn the face of stiffer sentences, some climate campaigners have said they will turn to more clandestine activities. One new group says it plans a campaign of sabotage against key infrastructure. In a manifesto published online it says it plans to "kickstart a new phase of the climate activist movement, aiming to shut down key actors of the fossil fuel economy."That's not a direction the JSO members I spoke to said they wanted to go. Sarah Lunnon said a key principle of JSO and the civil disobedience movement generally was that activists would take responsibility for their actions. One of the first questions new joiners were asked is whether they would be willing to be locked up."As corporations and billionaires corrupt political systems across the world, we need a different approach. "We are creating a new strategy, to face this reality and to carry our responsibilities at this time," the group says, suggesting they may be planning to form a new movement.JSO's most high-profile figure, Roger Hallam, is one of the five activists convicted for their role in the M25 protests. In a message from his prison cell he acknowledged that JSO has only had a "marginal impact". That is "not due to lack of trying," he said. The failure lay with the UK's "elites and our leaders" who had walked away from their responsibility to tackle the climate crisis, Hallam claimed. A hint perhaps that the group's new focus might be on the political system itself.JSO has said its last protest – to be held at the end of April – will mark "the end of soup on Van Goghs, cornstarch on Stonehenge and slow marching in the streets". But don't believe it. When pressed, the JSO members I spoke to said they may well turn back to disruptive tactics but under a new name and with a new and as yet unspecified objective.

Amid Trump Cuts, Climate Researchers Wait for the Ax to Fall

Climate experts whose research is funded by federal grants hide, whisper and wait for their jobs to disappear

Climate Researchers Wait for the Ax to FallClimate experts whose research is funded by federal grants hide, whisper and wait for their jobs to disappearBy Ariel Wittenberg, Chelsea Harvey & E&E News The Trump administration has slashed jobs and funding at the National Institutes of Health. Mark Wilson/Newsmakers/Getty ImagesCLIMATEWIRE | The National Institutes of Health has canceled grants for research on diversity, Covid-19 and vaccines. Climate scientists are hoping their work won’t be next — but fear it could be.“We are holding our breaths because we know we are on their list of targets,” said Marsha Wills-Karp, chair of the Johns Hopkins University Department of Environmental Health and Engineering. “It feels like it’s been slash and burn. We are hopeful they won’t get to climate, but we know it’s not likely.”Researchers in her department have received NIH grants to study the effects of wildfire air pollution on preterm birth rates and how hotter weather is affecting the health of babies at birth, measured by their weight and potential complications. They’re also studying how climate change is affecting nutrition.On supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.At the University of Washington, Kristie Ebi is fearful that NIH could cut grants that fund studies about which populations are more vulnerable to extreme heat — a project that the team is planning to expand to include the dangers of wildfire smoke.“We’re working to provide information that departments of health, communities and individuals can use,” Ebi said. “The more you know, the more of those lives you can save.”None of those programs haven’t been cut yet. But there’s reason to think they could be, and soon.Earlier this week, ProPublica reported on an internal NIH memo that outlined how the agency will no longer fund research on the health effects of climate change. It followed a story in Mother Jones showing that NIH had ended three climate-related programs, including the Climate Change and Health Initiative. The program was created in 2022 and has had annual congressional appropriations of $40 million, according to a December NIH report that was taken offline by the agency earlier this year.“HHS is taking action to terminate research funding that is not aligned with NIH and HHS priorities,” said Emily Hilliard, a department spokesperson.“As we begin to Make America Healthy Again, it’s important to prioritize research that directly affects the health of Americans,” she added. “We will leave no stone unturned in identifying the root cause of the chronic disease epidemic as part of our mission to Make America Healthy Again.”She did not respond to questions about whether HHS believes that research into the health effects of heat and other types of extreme weather are aligned with agency priorities or whether HHS believes that heat waves affect the health of Americans. NIH did not respond to a request for comment.Heat is the No. 1 weather-related killer in the U.S., according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, an agency within HHS. Heat caused or contributed to at least 2,300 deaths in 2023, CDC records show.In addition to turbocharging temperatures, climate change can affect people's health by increasing the prevalence of vector-borne diseases and the number of wildfires, whose smoke has been shown to increase asthma and cause cardiovascular problems.Those connections have long been studied with funding from the National Institutes of Environmental Health Sciences. Then in 2022, NIH broadened the scope of federal funding for climate health research, directing each of the agency’s 26 centers and institutes to study the dangers of climate change. At the time, the agency said “a mounting number of assessments and reports provide undeniable evidence that climate change is resulting in … direct and indirect consequences for human health and well-being.”Most of the climate researchers contacted by POLITICO's E&E News declined to talk publicly about their funding, citing concerns about their grants being rescinded if they spoke to the media.One researcher who was awarded federal funding said some experts in the climate and health field are pausing work related to their grants, like hiring.Others have turned down speaking requests because they're concerned about attracting attention from the Trump administration. Their work often focuses on how extreme weather has disproportional effects on the health of communities of color, according to several researchers who were granted anonymity for fear of retribution. One said that they declined a speaking invitation to avoid “accidentally us[ing] language we are not supposed to and then be told our language is not compliant with various executive orders” on diversity and equality.“We’ve been told we need to comply with those executive orders as federal grantees, but it’s hard to do if you are funded for something that the name is something you are not allowed to say,” the researcher said. “No one wants to do a social media post or a webinar or an event that might get them in trouble.”An annual conference hosted by NIH, Boston University and the Harvard School of Public Health was postponed earlier this month.Linda Birnbaum, who led the National Institutes of Environmental Health Sciences until 2017, said that during the first Trump administration, researchers were able to circumvent directives by wording grant applications as “climate and health” rather than “climate change.”“It worked then. I don’t think that will work anymore,” she said.Reprinted from E&E News with permission from POLITICO, LLC. Copyright 2025. E&E News provides essential news for energy and environment professionals.

Suggested Viewing

Join us to forge
a sustainable future

Our team is always growing.
Become a partner, volunteer, sponsor, or intern today.
Let us know how you would like to get involved!

CONTACT US

sign up for our mailing list to stay informed on the latest films and environmental headlines.

Subscribers receive a free day pass for streaming Cinema Verde.
Thank you! Your submission has been received!
Oops! Something went wrong while submitting the form.