Are high gas prices good news for EVs? It’s complicated.

I live in a dense city with plentiful public transportation options and limited parking, so I don’t own a car. I’m often utterly clueless about the current price of gasoline.

But as the conflict in Iran has escalated, fossil-fuel prices have been on a roller-coaster, and I’ve started paying attention. In the US, average gas prices are $3.98 a gallon as of March 25, up from under $3 before the war started.

Online there’s been what almost looks like cheerleading about this volatility from some folks, including EV owners—some of the social media posts and op-eds have read as nearly gleeful. The subtext (or even the text) is “I told you so.” 

Don’t get me wrong—this could be an opportunity for EVs to make headway around the world. But there are plenty of reasons that even the carless among us should be concerned about a sustained rise in fossil-fuel prices.

Historically, this is exactly the sort of moment that’s pushed people to reevaluate how they get around. During the oil crisis of the 1970s, Americans switched to smaller, more efficient cars in droves. It was a major opportunity for Japanese automakers, whose vehicles tended to fit this mold better than those produced by their US counterparts.

We’re already seeing early signs that people are interested in going electric. One US-based online car marketplace said that search traffic for EVs was up 20% following the initial attack on Iran. For more popular models like the Tesla Model Y, traffic nearly doubled.

And the interest is global. One car dealership outside London said it’s struggling to keep up with demand and is sending staff to buy more EVs at auction, according to Reuters. Another in Manila told Bloomberg that it got a month’s worth of orders in two weeks.

The timing here is really interesting in the US in particular, because we’re about to see a wave of more affordable used EVs hit the market. Three years ago, a leasing boom started with the Inflation Reduction Act, which included incentives for EVs, including leases. About 300,000 such leases are set to expire this year, and many of those vehicles could come up for sale, increasing the available supply of affordable used EVs.

The interest is there, but what would it really take for more drivers to make the switch?

Nice, round numbers do tend to get people’s attention. Some point to $4 per gallon (which the national average is quite close to right now). At that price, the total cost of ownership for an EV is comfortably lower than the cost for a gas-powered car, even with higher electricity prices, according to data from the energy consultancy BloombergNEF.

Then again, maybe that won’t quite do the trick: One survey from Cox Automotive found that most US consumers would consider switching to an EV or hybrid if gas prices hit $6 per gallon.

But this is also the second big incident of fossil-fuel volatility in the last five years, which could make consumers more ready to make the switch, as Elaine Buckberg, a senior fellow at Harvard, told Bloomberg. (The first was in the summer of 2022 when Russia invaded Ukraine.)

I’m a climate and energy reporter, and I care about addressing climate change. So I’m always happy to hear about people shifting to EVs or any other option that helps cut down on greenhouse-gas emissions.

But one aspect that I think is getting lost here is that sustained high fossil-fuel prices will be bad for even those of us who are untethered from the burdens of vehicle ownership. Fuel cost makes up between 50% and 60% of the cost of shipping goods overseas. Fertilizer production today requires natural gas, which has gotten significantly more expensive since the war began, particularly in Europe.

Jet fuel prices have basically doubled in the last month, according to the International Air Transport Association. Since those prices account for something like a quarter of an airline’s operating cost, that could soon make air travel—and anything that’s shipped by plane—more expensive.

And if all this adds up to an economic downturn, it’s bad for big projects that need financing (even wind and solar farms) and for people who want to borrow money to buy a home or a car (including an EV).

If you’re in the market for a car, maybe this uncertainty is what you needed to consider electric. But until we’re able to truly decarbonize not only our transportation but the rest of our economy, even this carless reporter is going to be worried about high gas prices.

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Why this battery company is pivoting to AI

Qichao Hu doesn’t mince words about how he sees the state of the battery industry. “Almost every Western battery company has either died or is going to die. It’s kind of the reality,” he says.

Hu is the CEO of SES AI, a Massachusetts-based battery company. It once had aims of making huge amounts of advanced lithium metal batteries for major industries like electric vehicles—but now the company is placing its bets on AI materials discovery.

Hu sees the pivot as an essential one. “It’s just not possible for a Western company to build a sustainable business,” he says. The company is still making some batteries, but only for smaller markets like drones rather than those that would require higher volumes, like EVs. The new focus is the company’s battery materials discovery platform—which it can either license to other battery companies or use to develop materials to sell. 

Some leading US EV battery companies have folded in recent months, and others, like SES AI, are making dramatic changes in strategy. This shift in who’s building batteries and where they’re doing it could shape the future geopolitics of energy. 

The work that would eventually evolve into SES AI began at MIT, where Hu completed his graduate research. His battery work was aimed at applications in oil and gas exploration. The industry uses sensors that go deep underground, where temperatures can top 120 °C (about 250 °F). The team hoped to develop a battery that could withstand those high temperatures and last longer on a single charge. 

The chosen technology was a solid polymer lithium metal battery. These cells use lithium metal for their anode and a polymer for their electrolyte (the material that ions move through in a battery cell). Together, these components can increase the energy density of a cell significantly, relative to the lithium-ion batteries that are common in personal devices and EVs today. (Lithium-ion batteries generally use a graphite material for their anode and a liquid for the electrolyte.)

That solid-state battery technology became the foundation of Solid Energy, a startup Hu founded that spun out from MIT in 2012 and raised its first private investment in 2013.

The team eventually realized that underground oil exploration was a small market, so after several years of operation they began to focus on electric vehicles, which were starting to come into the mainstream. After the team tweaked the chemistry to work better at lower temperatures, the company built its first pilot facility in Massachusetts and eventually another facility in Shanghai.

By 2021, the battery industry was booming, Hu recalls, and EVs were the hottest industry to be in. There was a ton of interest in next-generation battery technology from major automakers at the time, and Solid Energy started developing technology with GM, Hyundai, and Honda.

Larger vehicles, like SUVs and trucks, seemed like a good fit for next-generation batteries, Hu says. Massive vehicles like the ones Americans like to drive would need lighter batteries so they could have a reasonable range without being prohibitively heavy.

The company also shifted its chemistry focus, and in 2022 it announced a battery with a silicon anode rather than a lithium metal one. That shift could help make the battery easier to manufacture.

Since then, growth in the EV market has slowed, at least in the US, partly because of major pullbacks in funding from the Trump administration. EV tax credits for drivers, a key piece of support pushing Americans toward electric options, ended in late 2025. With the market for large electric cars in trouble, Hu says, “now we have to look at every market.”  

The AI materials discovery platform on which it’s pinning many of its hopes is called Molecular Universe. The company seeks not only to provide its software to other battery companies but also to identify new battery materials and either license them or sell them to those companies.

vials of electrolytes inside a machine at the synthesis foundry

COURTESY OF SES AI

The platform has already identified six new electrolyte materials, according to the company. Hu says one is an additive that could help improve the lifetime of batteries with silicon anodes. 

One of the challenges with silicon anodes is that they tend to swell a lot during use, which can cause physical damage and prevent efficient charging and discharging. To address the problem, the industry typically uses a material called fluoroethylene carbonate (FEC), which can help form an elastic film on the anode so the battery can still charge effectively. That additive can degrade at high temperatures, though, producing gases that can harm a battery’s lifetime. The SES platform identified a compound that works like FEC but doesn’t release those gases.

The company’s long history and deep battery knowledge could help make its platform a useful tool, Hu says. He sees the actual model as less crucial than SES’s domain expertise and data from years of making and testing batteries. 

“By not actually making the physical battery, we’re actually able to scale and then generate revenue faster,” he says. 

But some experts are skeptical about the near-term prospects for AI materials discovery to revive the industry. “New materials development, as much as we thought that was what people wanted (and, frankly, it should be what the cell makers want)—I don’t know that that seems to be the real linchpin of the battery industry’s progress,” says Kara Rodby, a technical principal at Volta Energy Technologies, a venture capital firm that focuses on the energy storage industry.

Investors are pulling back, and a slowdown in public support is making things difficult for some parts of the battery industry, she adds: “I don’t know that the ability to discover any new material is going to unlock anything new for the battery industry at this point in time.”

Why the world doesn’t recycle more nuclear waste

The prospect of making trash useful is always fascinating to me. Whether it’s used batteries, solar panels, or spent nuclear fuel, getting use out of something destined for disposal sounds like a win all around.

In nuclear energy, figuring out what to do with waste has always been a challenge, since the material needs to be dealt with carefully. In a new story, I dug into the question of what advanced nuclear reactors will mean for spent fuel waste. New coolants, fuels, and logistics popping up in companies’ designs could require some adjustments.

My reporting also helped answer another question that was lingering in my brain: Why doesn’t the world recycle more nuclear waste?

There’s still a lot of usable uranium in spent nuclear fuel when it’s pulled out of reactors. Getting more use out of the spent fuel could cut down on both waste and the need to mine new material, but the process is costly, complicated, and not 100% effective.

France has the largest and most established reprocessing program in the world today. The La Hague plant in northern France has the capacity to reprocess about 1,700 tons of spent fuel each year.

The plant uses a process called PUREX—spent fuel is dissolved in acid and goes through chemical processing to pull out the uranium and plutonium, which are then separated. The plutonium is used to make mixed oxide (or MOX) fuel, which can be used in a mixture to fuel conventional nuclear reactors or alone as fuel in some specialized designs. And the uranium can go on to be re-enriched and used in standard low-enriched uranium fuel.

Reprocessing can cut down on the total volume of high-level nuclear waste that needs special handling, says Allison Macfarlane, director of the school of public policy and global affairs at the University of British Columbia and a former chair of the NRC.

But there’s a bit of a catch. Today, the gold standard for permanent nuclear waste storage is a geological repository, a deep underground storage facility. Heat, not volume, is often the key limiting factor for how much material can be socked away in those facilities, depending on the specific repository. And spent MOX fuel gives off much more heat than conventional spent fuel, Macfarlane says. So even if there’s a smaller volume, the material might take up as much, or even more, space in a repository. 

It’s also tricky to make this a true loop: The uranium that’s produced from reprocessing is contaminated with isotopes that can be difficult to separate, Macfarlane says. Today, France essentially saves the uranium for possible future enrichment as a sort of strategic stockpile. (Historically, it’s also exported some to Russia for enrichment.) And while MOX fuel can be used in some reactors, once it is spent, it is technically challenging to reprocess. So today, the best case is that fuel could be used twice, not infinitely.

“Every responsible analyst understands that no matter what, no matter how good your recycling process is, you’re still going to need a geological repository in the end,” says Edwin Lyman, director of nuclear power safety at the Union of Concerned Scientists.

Reprocessing also has its downsides, Lyman adds. One risk comes from the plutonium made in the process, which can be used in nuclear weapons. France handles that risk with high security, and by quickly turning that plutonium into the MOX fuel product.

Reprocessing is also quite expensive, and uranium supply isn’t meaningfully limited. “There’s no economic benefit to reprocessing at this time,” says Paul Dickman, a former Department of Energy and NRC official.

France bears the higher cost that comes with reprocessing largely for political reasons, he says. The country doesn’t have uranium resources, importing its supply today. Reprocessing helps ensure its energy independence: “They’re willing to pay a national security premium.”

Japan is currently constructing a spent-fuel reprocessing facility, though delays have plagued the project, which started construction in 1993 and was originally supposed to start up by 1997. Now the facility is expected to open by 2027.

It’s possible that new technologies could make reprocessing more appealing, and agencies like the Department of Energy should do longer-term research on advanced separation technologies, Dickman says. Some companies working on advanced reactors say they plan to use alternative reprocessing methods in their fuel cycle.

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What do new nuclear reactors mean for waste?

MIT Technology Review Explains: Let our writers untangle the complex, messy world of technology to help you understand what’s coming next. You can read more from the series here.

The way the world currently deals with nuclear waste is as creative as it is varied: Drown it in water pools, encase it in steel, bury it hundreds of meters underground. 

These methods are how the nuclear industry safely manages the 10,000 metric tons of spent fuel waste that reactors produce as they churn out 10% of the world’s electricity every year. But as new nuclear designs emerge, they could introduce new wrinkles for nuclear waste management.  

Most operating reactors at nuclear power plants today follow a similar basic blueprint: They’re fueled with low-enriched uranium and cooled with water, and they’re mostly gigantic, sited at central power plants. But a large menu of new reactor designs that could come online in the next few years will likely require tweaks to ensure that existing systems can handle their waste.

“There’s no one answer about whether this panoply of new reactors and fuel types are going to make waste management any easier,” says Edwin Lyman, director of nuclear power safety at the Union of Concerned Scientists.

A nuclear disposal playbook

Nuclear waste can be roughly split into two categories: low-level waste, like contaminated protection equipment from hospitals and research centers, and high-level waste, which requires more careful handling. 

The vast majority by volume is low-level waste. This material can be stored onsite and often, once its radioactivity has decayed enough, largely handled like regular trash (with some additional precautions). High-level waste, on the other hand, is much more radioactive and often quite hot. This second category consists largely of spent fuel, a combination of materials including uranium-235, which is the fissile portion of nuclear fuel—the part that can sustain the chain reaction required for nuclear power plants to work. The material also contains fission products—the sometimes radioactive by-products of the splitting atoms that release energy.

Many experts agree that the best long-term solution for spent fuel and other high-level nuclear waste is a geologic repository—essentially, a very deep, very carefully managed hole in the ground. Finland is the furthest along with plans to build one, and its site on the southwest coast of the country should be operational this year.

The US designated a site for a geological repository in the 1980s, but political conflict has stalled progress. So today, used fuel in the US is stored onsite at operational and shuttered nuclear power plants. Once it’s removed from a reactor, it’s typically placed into wet storage, essentially submerged in pools of water to cool down. The material can then be put in protective cement and steel containers called dry casks, a stage known as dry storage.

Experts say the industry won’t need to entirely rewrite this playbook for the new reactor designs.  

“The way we’re going to manage spent fuel is going to be largely the same,” says Erik Cothron, manager of research and strategy at the Nuclear Innovation Alliance, a nonprofit think tank focused on the nuclear industry. “I don’t stay up late at night worried about how we’re going to manage spent fuel.” 

But new designs and materials could require some engineering solutions. And there’s a huge range of reactor designs, meaning there’s an equally wide range of potential waste types to handle.

Unusual waste

Some new nuclear reactors will look quite similar to operating models, so their spent fuel will be managed in much the same way that it is today. But others use novel materials as coolants and fuels. 

“Unusual materials will create unusual waste,” says Syed Bahauddin Alam, an assistant professor of nuclear, plasma, and radiological engineering at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Some advanced designs could increase the volume of material that needs to be handled as high-level waste. Take reactors that use TRISO (tri-structural isotropic) fuel, for example. TRISO contains a uranium kernel surrounded by several layers of protective material and then embedded in graphite shells. The graphite that encases TRISO will likely be lumped together with the rest of the spent fuel, making the waste much bulkier than current fuel.

Today, separating those layers would be difficult and expensive, according to a 2024 report from the Nuclear Innovation Alliance. That means the entire package would be lumped together as high-level waste.  

The company X-energy is designing high-temperature gas-cooled reactors that use TRISO fuel. It has already submitted plans for dealing with spent fuel to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, which oversees reactors in the US. The fuel’s form could actually help with waste management: The protective shells used in TRISO eliminate X-energy’s need for wet storage, allowing for dry storage from day one, according to the company.

Liquid-fueled molten-salt reactors, another new type, could increase waste volume too. In these designs, fuel and coolant are not kept separate as in most reactors; instead, the fuel is dissolved directly into a molten salt that’s used as the coolant. That means the entire vat of molten salt would need to be handled as high-level waste.

On the other hand, some other reactor designs could produce a smaller volume of spent fuel, but that isn’t necessarily a smaller problem. Fast reactors, for example, achieve a higher burn-up, consuming more of the fissile material and extracting more energy from their fuel. That means spent fuel from these reactors typically has a higher concentration of fission products and emits more heat. And that heat could be the killer factor for designing waste solutions. 

Spent fuel needs to be kept relatively cool, so it doesn’t melt and release hazardous by-products. Too much heat in a repository could also damage the surrounding rock. “Heat is what really drives how much you can put inside a repository,” says Paul Dickman, a former Department of Energy and NRC official.

Some spent fuel could require chemical processing prior to disposal, says Allison MacFarlane, director of the school of public policy and global affairs at the University of British Columbia and a former chair of the NRC. That could add complication and cost.

In fast reactors cooled by sodium metal, for example, the coolant can get into the fuel and fuse to its casing. Separation could be tricky, and sodium is highly reactive with water, so the spent fuel will require specialized treatment.

TerraPower’s Natrium reactor, a sodium fast reactor that received a construction permit from the NRC in early March, is designed to safely manage this challenge, says Jeffrey Miller, senior vice president for business development at TerraPower. The company has a plan to blow nitrogen over the material before it’s put into wet storage pools, removing the sodium.

Location, location, location

Regardless of what materials are used, even just changing the size of reactors and where they’re sited could introduce complications for waste management. 

Some new reactors are essentially smaller versions of the large reactors used today. These small modular reactors and microreactors may produce waste that can be handled in the same way as waste from today’s conventional reactors. But for places like the US, where waste is stored onsite, it would be impractical to have a ton of small sites that each hosts its own waste.  

Some companies are looking at sending their microreactors, and the waste material they produce, back to a single location, potentially the same one where reactors are manufactured.

Companies should be required to think carefully about waste and design in management protocols, and they should be held responsible for the waste they produce, UBC’s MacFarlane says. 

She also notes that so far, planning for waste has relied on research and modeling, and the reality will become clear only once the reactors are actually operational. As she puts it: “These reactors don’t exist yet, so we don’t really know a whole lot, in great gory detail, about the waste they’re going to produce.”

Brutal times for the US battery industry

Just a few years ago, the battery industry was hot, hot, hot. There was a seemingly infinite number of companies popping up, with shiny new chemistries and massive fundraising rounds. My biggest problem was sifting through the pile to pick the most exciting news to cover.

That tide has turned, and in 2026, what seems to be in unlimited supply isn’t battery success stories but stumbles or straight-up implosions. Companies are failing, investors are pulling back, and batteries, especially for EVs, aren’t looking so hot anymore. On Monday, Steve Levine at The Information (paywalled link) reported that 24M Technologies, a battery company founded in 2010, was shutting down and would auction off its property.

The company itself has been silent, but this is the latest in a string of bad signs, and it’s a big one—at one point 24M was worth over $1 billion, and the company’s innovations could have worked with existing technology. So where does that leave the battery industry?

Many buzzy battery startups in recent years have been trying to sell some new, innovative chemistry to compete with lithium-ion batteries, the status quo that powers phones, laptops, electric vehicles, and even grid storage arrays today. Think sodium-ion batteries and solid-state cells.

24M wasn’t trying to sell a departure from lithium-ion but improvements that could work with the tech. One of the company’s major innovations was its manufacturing process, which involved essentially smearing materials onto sheets of metal to form the electrodes, a simpler and potentially cheaper technique than the standard one. 

The layers in the company’s batteries were thicker, which cut down on some of the inactive materials in cells and improved the energy density. That allows more energy to be stored in a smaller package, boosting the range of EVs—the company famously had a goal of a 1,000-mile battery (about 1,600 kilometers).

We’re still thin on details of what exactly went down at 24M and what comes next for its tech. The company didn’t get back to my questions sent to the official press email, and nobody picked up the phone when I called. 24M cofounder and MIT professor Yet-Ming Chiang declined to speak on the record.

For those who have been closely following the battery industry, more bad news isn’t too surprising. It feels as if everyone is short on money these days, and as purse strings tighten, there’s less interest in novel ideas. “It just feels like there’s not a lot of appetite for innovation,” says Kara Rodby, a technical principal at Volta Energy Technologies, a venture capital firm that focuses on the energy storage industry.

Natron Energy, one of the leading sodium-ion startups in the US, shut down operations in September last year. Ample, an EV battery-swapping company, filed for bankruptcy in December 2025.  

There were always going to be failures from the recent battery boom. Money was flowing to all sorts of companies, some pitching truly wild ideas. But what recent months have made clear is that the battery market is turning brutal, even for the relatively safe bets.

Because 24M’s technology was designed to work into existing lithium-ion chemistry, it could have been an attractive candidate for existing battery companies to license or even acquire. “It’s a great example of something that should have been easier,” Rodby says.  

The gutting of major components of the Inflation Reduction Act, key legislation in the US that provided funding and incentives for batteries and EVs, certainly hasn’t helped. The EV market in the US is cooling off, with automakers canceling EV models and slashing factory plans.

There are bright spots. China’s battery industry is thriving, and its battery and EV giants are looking ever more dominant. The market for stationary energy storage is also still seeing positive signs of growth, even in the US. 

But overall, it’s not looking great. 

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Prioritizing energy intelligence for sustainable growth

Loudoun County, Virginia, once known for its pastoral scenery and proximity to Washington, DC, has earned a more modern reputation in recent years: The area has the highest concentration of data centers on the planet.

Ten years ago, these facilities powered email and e-commerce. Today, thanks to the meteoric rise in demand for AI-infused everything, local utility Dominion Energy is working hard to keep pace with surging power demands. The pressure is so acute that Dulles International Airport is constructing the largest airport solar installation in the country, a highly visible bid to bolster the region’s power mix.

Data center campuses like Loudoun’s are cropping up across the country to accommodate an insatiable appetite for AI. But this buildout comes at an enormous cost. In the US alone, data centers consumed roughly 4% of national electricity in 2024. Projections suggest that figure could stretch to 12% by 2028. To put this in perspective, a single 100-megawatt data center consumes roughly as much electricity as 80,000 American homes. Data centers being built today are gearing up for gigawatt scale, enough to power a mid-sized city.

For enterprise leaders, energy costs associated with AI and data infrastructure are quickly becoming both a budget concern and a potential bottleneck on growth. Meeting this moment calls for a capability most organizations are only beginning to develop: energy intelligence. The emerging discipline refers to understanding where, when, and why energy is consumed, and using that insight to optimize operations and control costs.

These efforts stand to address both immediate financial pressures and longer-term reputational risks, as communities like Loudoun County grow increasingly concerned about the energy demands associated with nearby data center development.

In December 2025, MIT Technology Review Insights conducted a survey of 300 executives to understand how companies are thinking about energy intelligence today, as well as where they’re anticipating challenges in the future.

Here are five of our most notable findings:

  • Energy intelligence is becoming a universal business priority. One hundred percent of executives surveyed expect the ability to measure and strategically manage power consumption to become an important business metric in the next two years.
  • AI workloads are already driving measurable cost increases, and the surge is just beginning. Two-thirds of executives (68%) report their companies have faced energy cost increases of 10% or more in the past 12 months due to AI and data workloads. Nearly all respondents (97%) anticipate their organization’s AI-related energy consumption will increase over the next 12-18 months.
  • Mounting costs are the top energy-related threat to AI innovation. Half of executives (51%) rank rising costs as the single greatest energy-related risk to their digital and AI initiatives. Most companies currently tracking and attempting to optimize data center energy consumption are motivated by cost management.
  • Organizations are responding through infrastructure optimization and energy-efficient partnerships. To address mounting energy demands, three in four leaders (74%) are optimizing existing infrastructure, while 69% are partnering with energy-efficient cloud and storage providers. More than half are also implementing AI workload scheduling (61%) and investing in more efficient hardware (56%).
  • Closing the measurement gap is the next frontier. Most enterprises still lack the granular data needed for true energy intelligence. This gap is especially pronounced for companies relying on third-party cloud providers and managed services for their data compute and storage needs, where 71% say rising consumption-based costs originate, yet energy metrics are often opaque.

Download the full report.

This content was produced by Insights, the custom content arm of MIT Technology Review. It was not written by MIT Technology Review’s editorial staff. It was researched, designed, and written by human writers, editors, analysts, and illustrators. This includes the writing of surveys and collection of data for surveys. AI tools that may have been used were limited to secondary production processes that passed thorough human review.

How much wildfire prevention is too much?

The race to prevent the worst wildfires has been an increasingly high-tech one. Companies are proposing AI fire detection systems and drones that can stamp out early blazes. And now, one Canadian startup says it’s going after lightning.

Lightning-sparked fires can be a big deal: The Canadian wildfires of 2023 generated nearly 500 million metric tons of carbon emissions, and lightning-started fires burned 93% of the area affected. Skyward Wildfire claims that it can stop wildfires before they even start by preventing lightning strikes.

It’s a wild promise, and one that my colleague James Temple dug into for his most recent story. (You should read the whole thing; there’s a ton of fascinating history and quirky science.) As James points out in his story, there’s plenty of uncertainty about just how well this would work and under what conditions. But I was left with another lingering question: If we can prevent lightning-sparked fires, should we?

I can’t help myself, so let’s take just a moment to talk about how this lightning prevention method supposedly works. Basically, lightning is static discharge—virtually the same thing as when you rub your socks on a carpet and then touch a doorknob, as James puts it.

When you shuffle across a rug, the friction causes electrons to jump around, so ions build up and an electric field forms. In the case of lightning, it’s snowflakes and tiny ice pellets called graupel rubbing together. They get separated by updrafts, building up a charge difference, and eventually cause an electrostatic discharge—lightning.

Starting in about the 1950s, researchers started to wonder if they might be able to prevent lightning strikes. Some came up with the idea of using metallic chaff, fiberglass strands coated with aluminum. (The military was already using the material to disrupt radar signals.) The idea is that the chaff can act as a conductor, reducing the buildup of static electricity that would otherwise result in a lightning strike.

The theory is sound enough, but results to date have been mixed. Some research suggests you might need high concentrations of chaff to prevent lightning effectively. Some of the early studies that tested the technique were small. And there’s not much information available from Skyward Wildfire about its efforts, as the company hasn’t released data from field trials or published any peer-reviewed papers that we could find. 

Even if this method really can work to stop lightning, should we use it?

Lightning-caused fires could be a growing problem with climate change. Some research has shown that they have substantially increased in the Arctic boreal region, where the planet is warming fastest.

But fire isn’t an inherently bad thing—many ecosystems evolved to burn. Some of the worst wildfires we see today result from a combination of climate-fueled conditions with policies that have allowed fuel to build up so that when fires do start, they burn out of control.

Some experts agree that techniques like Skyward’s would need to be used judiciously. “So even if we have all of the technical skills to prevent lightning-ignited wildfires, there really still needs to be work on when/where to prevent fires so we don’t exacerbate the fuel accumulation problem,” said Phillip Stepanian, a technical staff member at MIT Lincoln Laboratory’s air traffic control and weather systems group, in an email to James.

We also know that practices like prescribed burns can do a lot to reduce the risk of extreme fires—if we allow them and pay for them.

The company says it wouldn’t aim to stop all lightning or all wildfires. “We do not intend to eliminate all wildfires and support prescribed and cultural burning, natural fire regimes, and proactive forest management,” said Nicholas Harterre, who oversees government partnerships at Skyward, in an email to James. Rather, the company aims to reduce the likelihood of ignition on a limited number of extreme-risk days, Harterre said.

Some early responses to this story say that technological fixes for fires are missing the point entirely. Many such solutions “fundamentally misunderstand the problem,” as Daniel Swain, a climate scientist at the University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources, put it in a comment about the story on LinkedIn. That problem isn’t the existence of fire, Swain continues, but its increasing intensity, and its intersection with society because of human-caused factors. “Preventing ignitions doesn’t actually address any of the causes of increasingly destructive wildfires,” he adds.

It’s hard to imagine that exploring more firefighting tools is a bad idea. But to me it seems both essential and quite difficult to suss out which techniques are worth deploying, and how they could be used without putting us in even more potential danger. 

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This startup claims it can stop lightning and prevent catastrophic wildfires

On June 1, 2023, as a sweltering heat wave baked Quebec, thousands of lightning strikes flashed across the province, setting off more than 120 wildfires.

The blazes ripped through parched forests and withered grasslands, burned for weeks, and compounded what was rapidly turning into Canada’s worst fire year on record. In the end, nearly 7,000 fires scorched tens of millions of acres across the country, generated nearly 500 millions tons of carbon emissions, and forced hundreds of thousands of people to flee their homes.

Lightning sparked almost 60% of the wildfires—and those blazes accounted for 93% of the total area burned.

Now a Vancouver-based weather modification startup, Skyward Wildfire, says it can prevent such catastrophic fires in the future—by stopping the lightning strikes that ignite them. It just raised millions of dollars in a funding round that it plans to use to accelerate its product development and expand its operations.

Until last week the company, which highlights the role lightning played in the 2023 infernos, stated on its website that it has demonstrated technology capable of preventing “up to 100% of lightning strikes.”

It was an eye-catching claim that went well beyond the confidence level of researchers who have studied the potential for humans to suppress lightning—and the company took it down following inquiries from MIT Technology Review.

“While the statement reflected an observed result under specific conditions, it was not intended to suggest uniform outcomes and has been removed,” Nicholas Harterre, who oversees government partnerships at Skyward, said in an email. “In complex atmospheric systems, consistent 100% outcomes are not realistic, as the experts you spoke to rightly pointed out.” 

The company now states it demonstrated that it “can prevent the majority of cloud-to-ground lightning strikes in targeted storm cells.” So far, Skyward hasn’t publicly revealed how it does so, and in response to our questions Harterre said only that the materials are “inert and selected in accordance with regulatory standards.” 

But online documents suggest the company is relying on an approach that US government agencies began evaluating in the early 1960s: seeding clouds with metallic chaff, or narrow fiberglass strands coated with aluminum. 

The military uses the material to disrupt radar signals; fighter jets, for example, deploy it during dogfights to throw off guided missile systems. Field trials conducted decades ago by US agencies suggest it could help reduce lightning strikes, at least to some degree and under certain conditions.

If Skyward could employ it reliably on significant scales, it might offer a powerful tool for countering rising fire risks as climate change drives up temperatures, dries out forests, and likely increases the frequency of lightning strikes.

“Preventing lightning on high-risk days saves lives, billions in wildfire costs, and is one of the highest-leverage and most immediate climate solutions available,” Sam Goldman, Skyward’s founder and chief executive, said in a statement posted on LinkedIn last year.

But researchers and environmental observers say there are plenty of remaining uncertainties, including how well the seeding may work under varying weather and climate conditions, how much material would need to be released, how frequently it would have to be done, and what sorts of secondary environmental impacts might result from lighting suppression on commercial scales.

Some observers are also concerned that the company appears to have moved ahead with weather modification field trials in parts of Canada without providing wide public notice or openly discussing what materials it’s putting into the clouds.

Given the escalating fire dangers, it’s “reasonable” to evaluate the potential for new technologies to mitigate them, says Keith Brooks, programs director at Environmental Defence, a Canadian advocacy organization.

“But we should be doing so cautiously and really transparently, with a robust scientific methodology that’s open to scrutiny,” he says.

Seeding the clouds

Skyward’s website offers few technical details, but the company says it worked with Canadian wildfire agencies in 2024 and 2025 to demonstrate its technology. The company also says it has developed AI tools to predict lightning strikes that could set off fires.

Skyward announced last month that it raised $7.9 million in Canadian dollars ($5.7 million), in an extension of a seed round initially closed early last year. Investors included Climate Innovation Capital, Active Impact Investments, and Diagram Ventures.

“Our first season demonstrated that prevention is possible at scale,” Goldman said in a statement. “This funding allows us to expand into new regions and support partners who need reliable, operational tools to reduce wildfire risk before emergencies begin.”

The company doesn’t use the term “cloud seeding” on its site or in its recent announcements. But a press release highlighting its selection as a finalist last year in a conservation group’s Fire Grand Challenge states that it suppresses lightning “by cloud seeding with safe, non-toxic materials to neutralize storm charges,” as The Narwhal previously reported.

In addition, Unorthodox Philanthropy, a foundation that provided a grant to support Skyward’s efforts “to test and deploy” the technology, offered more detail in an awardee write-up about Goldman.

It states: “The Skyward team … settled on an inert substance consisting of aluminum covered glass fibers, which is regularly used in military operations to intercept and confuse enemy radar and can also dis-charge clouds.”

Additional details were disclosed in a document marked “Proprietary and Confidential,” which the World Bank nonetheless released within a package of materials from companies developing means of addressing fire risks.

Skyward’s diagrams show planes dropping particles into clouds to prevent cloud-to-ground lightning strikes in “high risk areas.” The company also notes in the document that it uses artificial intelligence for a number of purposes, including forecasting lightning storms, prioritizing treatments, targeting storm cells, and optimizing flight paths.  

Harterre stressed that the company would deploy the technology judiciously and reserve it for storm events with elevated wildfire risk, adding that such storms account for less than 0.1% of lightning activity in a given area.

“Our objective is to reduce the probability of ignition on the limited number of extreme-risk days when fires threaten lives, critical infrastructure, and ecosystems, and when suppression costs and impacts can escalate rapidly,” he said.

The document posted by the World Bank states that Skyward partnered with Alberta Wildfire in August of 2024 to “prove suppression by plane and drone,” and that its process produced a “60-100% reduction” in lightning compared with “control cells” (which likely means storm cells that weren’t seeded). 

The document added that the company would be carrying out additional field trials in the summer of 2025 with the wildfire agencies in British Columbia and Alberta to “provide landscape level solutions with more advanced aircraft, sensors and forecasting.”

“BC Wildfire Service is aware that Skyward is developing technology that aims to reduce instances of lightning in targeted situations,” the British Columbia agency acknowledged in a statement provided to MIT Technology Review. “Last year, preliminary trials were conducted by Skyward to gain a better understand [sic] of the technology and its applicability in B.C. Should a project/technology like this move forward in B.C., we would engage with the project team in an effort to learn and ensure we’re using every tool available to us to respond to wildfire in B.C.”

The BC agency declined to make anyone available for an interview and didn’t respond to questions about what materials were used, where the tests were carried out, or whether it provided public disclosures or required the company to. Alberta Wildfire didn’t respond to similar questions from MIT Technology Review.

Rising lightning risks

Clouds are just water in various forms—vapor, droplets, and ice crystals, condensed enough to form the floating Rorschach tests we see in the sky. Within them, snowflakes and tiny ice pellets known as graupel rub together, causing atoms to trade electrons. This process creates highly reactive ions with negative and positive charges. 

Updrafts separate the light snowflakes from the graupel, building up larger differences in the charges across the electrical field until … crack! An electrostatic discharge occurs in the form of a lightning strike.

The 2023 fire season wasn’t a particularly big year for lightning strikes in Canada—but then it didn’t have to be. It was so hot and dry that every bolt that struck the surface had a better than usual chance of igniting a fire, says Piyush Jain, a research scientist at the Canadian Forest Service and lead author of a study published in Nature Communications that analyzed the year’s fires.  

aerial image of 2023 wildfire in Quebec
A fire burns in Mistissini, Québec, on June 12, 2023.
CPL MARC-ANDRé LECLERC/CANADIAN ARMED FORCES

Climate change is, however, likely to produce more lightning strikes, if it hasn’t started to already. Warmer air holds more moisture and adds more convective energy to the atmosphere, which drives the vertical movement of air that forms clouds and stirs up lightning storms. 

“So the conditions are there, and the conditions are likely to increase,” Jain says.

Different models arrive at different lightning forecasts for some regions of the world. But a clearer trend is already emerging in the northernmost latitudes, where the planet is warming fastest. Studies show that lightning-ignited fires have substantially increased in the Arctic boreal region, and predict that they will continue to rise

This combines with other growing risks like longer fire seasons, warmer temperatures, and drier vegetation, together raising the odds of more severe fires and more greenhouse-gas emissions, says Brendan Rogers, a senior scientist at the Woodwell Climate Research Center who studies the effect of fires on permafrost thaw.

In fact, Canada’s emissions from the 2023 fires were more than four times its emissions from fossil fuels.

Midcentury field trials

Scientists have conducted a variety of experiments exploring the possibility of preventing lightning, but most of it happened in the later half of the last century. 

Amid the cultural optimism and booming economy of the postwar period, US research agencies and corporations went on a tear of cloud seeding experiments aimed at conquering nature—or at least moderating its dangers. Research teams launched or dropped materials like dry ice and silver iodide into clouds in attempts to boost rainfall, reduce hail, dissipate fog, and redirect hurricanes.

“Cloud seeding activity was so intensive that at its peak in the early 1950s, approximately 10% of the US land area was under some kind of weather modification program,” wrote MIT’s Phillip Stepanian and Earle Williams in a 2024 history of lightning suppression efforts in the Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society. (MIT Technology Review is owned by MIT but is editorially independent.) 

Harry Gisborne, then chief of the division of fire research at the US Forest Service, wondered if the technique could be used to trigger downpours that might extinguish hard-to-reach wildfires on public lands. But when he put the question to Vincent Schaefer of General Electric, who had done pioneering research in cloud seeding, Schaefer thought they could perhaps do one better: prevent the lighting that sparked the fires in the first place.

The conversations kicked off what would become Project Skyfire, a multiagency private-public research program that carried out a series of experiments through the 1950s and 1960s. Research teams seeded clouds over the San Francisco Peaks of Arizona, the Bitterroot Mountains at the edge of Idaho, and the Deerlodge National Forest in Montana, among other places.

After comparing treated and untreated storm clouds, the researchers concluded that seeding decreased cloud-to-ground lightning by more than half. But as MIT’s Stepanian and Williams noted, the sample sizes were small, and questions remained about the statistical significance of the findings.

(Soviet scientists also carried out some field experiments on lightning suppression in the 1950s, as well as some related research that involved using rockets to launch lead iodide into thunderstorms in the 1970s, but it’s difficult to find further details about those programs.)

A near tragedy reignited US government interest in the possibility of lightning suppression in 1969, when lightning struck the Apollo 12 space shuttle twice within seconds of launch. The astronauts were able to reset their systems and successfully complete their mission to the moon, but it was a very close call.

In the aftermath, NASA and NOAA teamed up on what became known as Project Thunderbolt, which relied on the metallic chaff normally used in military countermeasures.

Researchers at the US Army Electronics Laboratory had previously proposed the possibility of suppressing lightning by deploying this material, which a handful of defense contractors manufacture. The idea is that chaff acts as a conductor in a forming electrical field, stripping electrons from some oxygen and nitrogen molecules and adding them to others. The mismatched electrons already collecting in cloud water molecules, thanks to all that rubbing between snowflakes and graupel, can then leap over to those newly charged atoms. That, in turn, should reduce the buildup of static electricity that otherwise results in lightning.

“By continuously redistributing—and thereby neutralizing—charges within the storm in a weak electric field, the strong electric fields required to produce lightning would never develop,” Stepanian and Williams wrote.

NASA and NOAA carried out a series of experiments seeding clouds with chaff from the early to mid 1970s, over Boulder, Colorado, and later at the Kennedy Space Center. Here, too, the experiments showed “generally promising field results.” But NASA eventually grew concerned about the possibility that chaff could affect radio communications and shuttered the program.

“Lightning suppression research was once again abandoned, and the responsibility for mitigating lightning hazards reverted to weather forecasters,” Stepanian and Williams concluded.

‘Hard to draw conclusions’

So what does all this tell us about our ability to prevent lightning?

“In my opinion, it’s unambiguously true that this technique can be used to reduce lightning strikes in a storm,” says Stepanian, a technical staff member at MIT Lincoln Laboratory’s air traffic control and weather systems group. “With some major caveats.”

For example, it’s not clear how much material you would need to release, how long it would persist, and how the effectiveness might change under different climate and weather conditions.

(Stepanian consulted with Skyward in its early stages, and he declined to discuss the startup.)

His coauthor on the history of lightning suppression seems a tad more skeptical. In an email, Williams, a research scientist at MIT who studies physical meteorology and atmospheric electricity, said there’s unmistakable evidence that chaff “has an impact on the electrification of thunderstorms.” But in email responses, he said its effectiveness in reducing or eliminating lighting activity “remains controversial” and requires further testing. (Williams says he did not consult for Skyward.) 

In his own written reviews, he’s highlighted a number of potential shortcomings with earlier research, including unaccounted-for differences in cloud heights between treated and untreated storms. In addition, he’s noted that some studies used detection systems that pick up only cloud-to-ground strikes, not intracloud lightning, which is far more common. 

He also points to the results of a more recent study that he and Stepanian collaborated on with researchers at New Mexico Tech. They relied upon data from weather radars in Tampa and Melbourne, Florida, located on opposite sides of the state, to detect the presence of chaff released over the central part of the state during military training and testing exercises. 

They compared 35 storms during which chaff was clearly detected in clouds with 35 instances when it wasn’t.

According to an abstract of the paper—which hasn’t been peer-reviewed or published but was presented at the American Geophysical Union conference in December—storms that occurred when chaff was present were generally “smaller and shorter-lived.” 

But the number of total flashes—which includes ground strikes as well as lightning within and between clouds and the air—was actually significantly higher in clouds carrying chaff: 62,250 versus 24,492.

“In summary, so far, it is hard to draw any conclusion about lightning suppression using chaff,” the authors wrote.

Williams says their results and other studies suggest that large chaff concentrations may be needed to suppress lightning. That could be because there’s a strong tendency for the ions released from the chaff fibers to be captured by cloud droplets before they reach the charged particles that would need to be neutralized.

But that may also present a significant deployment challenge, since chaff quickly becomes dilute once it’s released into the midst of turbulent storm clouds, Williams adds. 

Skyward’s Harterre said he couldn’t comment on the results of the Florida study but noted that storms in the state are very different from those that occur in the Canadian provinces where his company operates.

“Our work to date has focused on regions where operational feasibility has been evaluated and wildfire risk is highest,” he wrote.

‘Unintended consequences’

The possibility of releasing more chaff into the air also raises the questions of what else it could do in the atmosphere, and what will happen once it lands. 

The US military has produced a number of studies exploring the environmental and health effects of chaff and found that it disperses widely, breaks down in the environment, and is “generally nontoxic.”

For instance, a Naval Health Research Center report assessing environmental impacts from decades of training exercises near Chesapeake Bay concluded that “current and estimated use of aluminized chaff by American forces worldwide” will not raise total aluminum levels above the Environmental Protection Agency’s established limits. 

But a US Government Accountability Office report in 1998 raised a few other flags, noting that chaff can also affect civilian air traffic control radar and weather forecasts. It also highlighted a “potential but remote chance of collecting in reservoirs and causing chemical changes that may affect water and the species that use it.”

Stepanian says that if lightning suppression efforts require more chaff than the military currently releases, further studies may be needed to properly evaluate the environmental effects. 

Brooks of Environmental Defence Canada says he wants to know more about what materials Skyward is using, where they’re sourced from, what the effort leaves behind in the environment, and what the impacts on animals could be. He is also wary of the possible secondary effects of intervening in storms.

“I just think there’s the potential for unintended consequences if we start to mess with a complex system, like weather,” Brooks says, adding: “It makes me nervous to think there are pilots going on without people knowing about them.”

Harterre said that the company abides by any applicable regulations, and that it conducts its field activities “in coordination with relevant authorities and with appropriate authorization.”

He added that it releases seeding materials at lower volumes and concentrations than those associated with defense use and that deployments “are limited to defined high-wildfire-risk storm conditions.”

Remaining doubts

It’s not clear whether or to what degree Skyward has meaningfully advanced the science of lightning suppression or cleared up the questions that have lingered since the studies from the last century. 

The company hasn’t released data from its field trials, published any papers in peer-reviewed literature, or disclosed how its tests were performed, as far as MIT Technology Review was able to determine. 

Without such information it’s impossible to assess its claims, Williams says. He and two of his New Mexico Tech coauthors—associate professor Adonis Leal and master’s student Jhonys Moura—had all expressed skepticism about the company’s previous claim of “up to 100%” lightning prevention.

Harterre said Skyward intends to release more technical information as its programs mature.

“We look forward to the opportunity to share more detailed information,” he wrote.

In the meantime, Skyward’s investors have high hopes for the company and see “tremendous opportunity” in its potential ability to counteract fire dangers.

“Mitigating the exponentially increasing risk of wildfires can only happen if we shift from reactive suppression to proactive prevention,” Kevin Kimsa, managing partner of Climate Innovation Capital, said in a statement when the company’s recent funding was announced.

Rogers, of the Woodwell Climate Research Center, has spoken with Skyward several times but hasn’t worked with them. He also stressed that it’s crucial to understand potential environmental impacts from lightning suppression and to consult with citizens in affected areas, including Indigenous communities.

But he says he’s “optimistic” about the role that lighting suppression could play, if it works effectively and without major downsides.

That’s because preventing wildfires is far cheaper than putting them out, and it avoids risks to firefighters, ecosystems, infrastructure and local communities.

“If you’re able to go after fires before they’ve even ignited, you remove a lot of that from the equation,” he says.

This company claims a battery breakthrough. Now they need to prove it.

When a company claims to have created what’s essentially the holy grail of batteries, there are bound to be some questions.

Interest has been swirling since Donut Lab, a Finnish company, announced last month that it had a new solid-state battery technology, one that was ready for large-scale production. The company said its batteries can charge super-fast and have a high energy density that would translate to ultra-long-range EVs. What’s more, it claimed the cells can operate safely in the extreme heat and cold, contain “green and abundant materials,” and would cost less than lithium-ion batteries do today.

It sounded amazing—this sort of technology could transform the EV industry. But many quickly wondered if it was all too good to be true. Now, Donut Lab is releasing a series of videos that it says will prove its technology has the secret sauce. Let’s dig into why this company is making news, why many experts are skeptical, and what it all means for the battery industry right now.

Solid-state batteries could deliver the next generation of EVs. In place of a liquid electrolyte (the material that ions move through inside a battery), the cells use a solid material, so they can be more compact. That means a significantly longer range, which could get more people excited to drive EVs.

The problem is, getting these batteries to work and making them at the large scale required for the EV industry hasn’t been a simple task. Some of the world’s most powerful automakers and battery companies have been trying for years to get the technology off the ground. (Toyota at one point said it would have solid-state batteries in cars by 2020. Now it’s shooting for 2027 or 2028.)

While it’s been a long time coming, it does feel as if solid-state batteries are closer than ever. Much of the progress so far has been on semi-solid-state batteries, which use materials like gels for electrolytes. But some companies, including several in China, are getting closer to true solid state. The world’s largest battery company, CATL, plans to manufacture small quantities in 2027. Another major Chinese automaker, Changan, plans to start testing installation of all-solid-state batteries in vehicles this year, with mass production expected to begin next year.

Still, Donut Lab surprised the battery industry when, in a video released in early January ahead of the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas, the company claimed it would put the world’s first all-solid-state battery into production vehicles.

One of the splashiest claims in the announcement was that cells would have an energy density of 400 watt-hours per kilogram (the top commercial lithium-ion batteries today sit at about 250 to 300 Wh/kg). It was also claimed that the cells could charge in as little as five minutes, last 100,000 cycles, and retain 99% of capacity at high and low temperatures—while costing less than lithium-ion cells and being made from “100% green and abundant materials with global availability.”

Many experts were immediately skeptical. “In the solid-state field, the technical barriers are very high,” said Shirley Meng, a professor of molecular engineering at the University of Chicago, when I spoke with her last month. She’d recently attended CES and visited Donut Lab’s booth. “They had zero demo, so I don’t believe it,” she says. “Call me conservative, but I would rather be careful than be sorry later.”

“It’s one of those things where nobody knows—they’ve never heard of it,” said Eric Wachsman, a professor at the University of Maryland and cofounder of the solid-state battery company Ion Storage Systems, in a January interview. “They came out of nowhere.”

Donut Lab has shared very little about what, exactly, this technology might be. It’s not uncommon for battery companies (or any startup, for that matter) to be quiet about technical details before they can get patents filed to protect their technology. But the combination of claims didn’t seem to line up with any known chemistries, leaving experts speculating and, in many cases, doubting Donut Lab’s claims.

“All the parameters are contradictory,” said Yang Hongxin, chairman and CEO of the Chinese battery giant Svolt Energy, in remarks to news outlets in January. For example, there’s often a trade-off between high energy density, which requires thicker electrodes that can store more energy, and fast charging, which requires ions to move quickly through cells. High-performance batteries are also expected to be costly, but Donut Lab claims its technology will be cheaper than lithium-ion technology. 

In a new video released last week, Donut Lab cofounder and CEO Marko Lehtimäki announced the company would be releasing a video series, called “I Donut Believe,” that would provide evidence for their claims. As a header on the accompanying website reads: “Fair enough. Here you go.”

When the website went up last week, it included a countdown timer to Monday February 23, when the company released results from its first third-party testing: a fast charging test. The test showed that a single cell could charge from 0% to 80% capacity in about four and a half minutes—incredibly quick and quite impressive results. (One potential caveat to note is that the cells heated up quite a bit, so thermal management could be important in designing vehicles that use these batteries.)

Even as we see the first technical test results, I’m still left with a lot of questions. How many cycles could this battery do at this charging speed? Can this same cell meet the company’s other performance claims? (I’ve reached out to Donut Lab several times over the past month, both to the company’s press email and to leadership on LinkedIn, but I haven’t gotten a response yet.)

The company has certainly drummed up a lot of interest and attention with its rollout, and the theatrics aren’t over yet. There’s another countdown timer on Donut Lab’s site, which ends on Monday, March 2.

I’m the first one to get excited about a new battery technology. But there’s a sentiment I’ve seen pop up a lot recently online, and one I can’t get out of my head as I continue to follow this story: “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof.”

This article is from The Spark, MIT Technology Review’s weekly climate newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Wednesday, sign up here.

The building legal case for global climate justice

The United States and the European Union grew into economic superpowers by committing climate atrocities. They have burned a wildly disproportionate share of the world’s oil and gas, planting carbon time bombs that will detonate first in the poorest, hottest parts of the globe. 

Meanwhile, places like the Solomon Islands and Chad—low-lying or just plain sweltering—have emitted relatively little carbon dioxide, but by dint of their latitude and history, they rank among the countries most vulnerable to the fiercest consequences of global warming. That means increasingly devastating cyclones, heat waves, famines, and floods.

Morally, there’s an ironclad case that the countries or companies responsible for this mess should provide compensation for the homes that will be destroyed, the shorelines that will disappear beneath rising seas, and the lives that will be cut short. By one estimate, the major economies owe a climate debt to the rest of the world approaching $200 trillion in reparations.

Legally, though, the case has been far harder to make. Even putting aside the jurisdictional problems, early climate science couldn’t trace the provenance of airborne molecules of carbon dioxide across oceans and years. Deep-pocketed corporations with top-tier legal teams easily exploited those difficulties. 

Now those tides might be turning. More climate-related lawsuits are getting filed, particularly in the Global South. Governments, nonprofits, and citizens in the most climate-exposed nations continue to test new legal arguments in new courts, and some of those courts are showing a new willingness to put nations and their industries on the hook as a matter of human rights. In addition, the science of figuring out exactly who is to blame for specific weather disasters, and to what degree, is getting better and better. 

It’s true that no court has yet held any climate emitter liable for climate-related damages. For starters, nations are generally immune from lawsuits originating in other countries. That’s why most cases have focused on major carbon producers. But they’ve leaned on a pretty powerful defense. 

While oil and gas companies extract, refine, and sell the world’s fossil fuels, most of the emissions come out of “the vehicles, power plants, and factories that burn the fuel,” as Michael Gerrard and Jessica Wentz, of Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center, note in a recent piece in Nature. In other words, companies just dig the stuff up. It’s not their fault someone else sets it on fire.

So victims of extreme weather events continue to try new legal avenues and approaches, backed by ever-more-convincing science. Plaintiffs in the Philippines recently sued the oil giant Shell over its role in driving Super Typhoon Odette, a 2021 storm that killed more than 400 people and displaced nearly 800,000. The case relies partially on an attribution study that found climate change made extreme rainfall like that seen in Odette twice as likely. 

IVAN JOESEFF GUIWANON/GREENPEACE

Overall, evidence of corporate culpability—linking a specific company’s fossil fuel to a specific disaster—is getting easier to find. For example, a study published in Nature in September was able to determine how much particular companies contributed to a series of 21st-century heat waves.

A number of recent legal decisions signal improving odds for these kinds of suits. Notably, a handful of determinations in climate cases before the European Court of Human Rights affirmed that states have legal obligations to protect people from the effects of climate change. And though it dismissed the case of a Peruvian farmer who sued a German power company over fears that a melting alpine glacier could destroy his property, a German court determined that major carbon polluters could in principle be found liable for climate damages tied to their emissions. 

At least one lawsuit has already emerged that could test that principle: Dozens of Pakistani farmers whose land was deluged during the massive flooding events of 2022 have sued a pair of major German power and cement companies.

Even if the lawsuit fails, that would be a problem with the system, not the science. Major carbon-polluting countries and companies have a disproportionate responsibility for climate-change-powered disasters. 

Wealthy nations continued to encourage business practices that pollute the atmosphere, even as the threat of climate change grew increasingly grave. And oil and gas companies remain the kingpin suppliers to a fossil-fuel-addicted world. They have operated with the full knowledge of the massive social, environmental, and human cost imposed by their business while lobbying fiercely against any rules that would force them to pay for those harms or clean up their act. 

They did it. They knew. In a civil society where rule of law matters, they should pay the price. 

This article is from The Spark, MIT Technology Review’s weekly climate newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Wednesday, sign up here.