A number of entrenched interests have been playing a long game. There’s (all too appropriately) a good bit of attention trained on efforts like The Federalist Society‘s attempts to remake the legal and judicial landscape and The Heritage Foundation‘s “Project 2025” plan to reshape the federal government along right-wing lines. Both reflect the careful cultivation, over decades, first of sympathetic “scholarship” and opinion, then of political action.
But as Kate Yoder of Grist explains, there’s another– longer, deeper– program at work: from the family car to the dream kitchen, fossil fuel companies have sold a vision of prosperity that depended on their own products. Over a century of evidence shows how they have done it…
What does going on a date have to do with fossil fuels? Everything, according to the petroleum industry.
One advertisement from the pipeline company Energy Transfer follows two people getting ready for a date, the man primping with hair gel, the woman applying lipstick, before meeting at a bar. “That connection was brought to you by petroleum products,” the narrator says. “But what if we lived in a world without oil and natural gas?”
The story rewinds to the beginning, except this time, the woman looks bewildered as her phone with the dating app evaporates in her hands. She gets lipstick all over her cheek when the car she’s riding in hits the pavement without its tires. As his hair gel disappears, the man looks into the mirror, baffled. When they sit down across from each other, makeup, hair dye, and glasses fade away. In the game playing on a TV in the bar, a football disintegrates a second before the kicker swings his leg at empty air.
The commercial, which has racked up 7.4 million views since it appeared four years ago, taps into the fact that fossil fuels have become embedded in American life (what’s more American than football?). Oil and gas not only influence how people get around town, but also where they live, how they dress, and how they cook food in their kitchens. This all feels so ordinary that most people don’t notice how pervasive petroleum is, powering our lives while hiding in plain sight. Though it might seem inevitable that we live this way, a Grist investigation found that this idea of what’s “normal” was shaped by decades of advertising, public relations propaganda, and broader efforts to sway American culture, from radio programs to Hollywood films.
“Our dependence on oil didn’t just happen,” said Robert Brulle, an environmental sociologist at Brown University.
This campaign started about a century ago, when companies began strategizing how to create long-term demand for fossil fuels and the products that ran on them. Billboards showcased happy families on the road in their cars, films showed stylish women cooking over the flame of a gas stove, and magazines featured men pushing their gas-powered mowers across soon-to-be perfectly manicured lawns. The message was often left unsaid: The American way of life runs on fossil fuels.
There’s a well-documented history showing that Exxon and other oil giants understood the dangers of global warming by the 1970s based on their own research and still spent decades publicly downplaying, or outright denying, the science. But the story of how oil and gas companies coaxed Americans into accepting — even desiring — a life built on fossil fuels has largely escaped attention, buried in the pages of obscure trade journals.
In the 1940s and 1950s, the oil industry spent millions of dollars a year on campaigns to “educate” the public about the wonders of petroleum and how it advanced the “American way.” The natural gas industry promoted all-gas “dream kitchens” and paraded them in front of the editors of Better Homes and Gardens, Good Housekeeping, and The Ladies’ Home Journal. They sold a vision of the American Dream that required their products — a cultural legacy that has been devastating for efforts to rein in climate change and shift to a cleaner future.
This history offers an explanation for why Americans have had such a strong reaction to the idea of banning polluting gas ranges (“they can pry it from my cold dead hands”) or requiring more sales of electric vehicles over gas-powered cars. Is this debate really just about technology, or about what the burning of fossil fuels represents — freedom and a sense of identity? President Donald Trump’s Make America Great Again agenda is deeply nostalgic for what oil once promised: economic might, a higher standard of living, the chance to rise above your station and maybe make a fortune. In his inauguration speech last year, Trump promised a return to these ideals. “We will be a rich nation again, and it is that liquid gold under our feet that will help to do it,” he said.
As the world enters an “age of electricity” powered increasingly by solar, wind, and other low-carbon energy sources, the United States often appears to be stuck in the past. The Trump administration has prolonged the life of coal plants and opened up new areas to oil drilling, while paying companies billions of dollars to stop offshore wind projects. The explanation, when it’s offered, often returns to the same theme. Earlier this year, when the Trump administration scrapped Biden-era rules to cut emissions from cars, along with the Environmental Protection Agency’s authority to regulate climate change, it touted the effort as “restoring the American Dream.” White House spokesperson Taylor Rogers summed up the sentiment this summer: “President Trump was given a mandate to roll back the radical climate policies that are burning a hole through taxpayers’ wallets and jeopardizing the American Dream for future generations.”
The words echo what the oil industry has been telling Americans for a century: Without fossil fuels, there is no “good life,” only sacrifice…
As we look behind the curtain, we might that it was on this date in 1895 that George Selden was granted the first patent for a gasoline-powered automobile. In the patent, which Seldon had filed several years earlier, on May 8, 1879 (eight years before the public introduction of the Benz Patent Motorwagen in Europe, built in 1886 and widely considered the first automobile), he described not only the engine but also a complete automobile incorporating such features as a clutch, compressed air self-starter, and steering system (No. 549,160). He maintained that it was the combination of these elements, together with his engine, made the road-engine patentable. Selden’s day job was as a patent attorney, so he knew to delay the issue of the patent by sending amendments and other communications every two years. Meanwhile, others did the hard work of developing the automobile, and his patent became more valuable. Years of legal wrangling for profits followed.
Thermal imaging shows the cooling power of radiative paint (left)
A new twist on an old-school climate adaptation technique– Lara Williams reports…
In a co-working space overlooking the west London neighborhood of White City, a host of startups are at work on flashy technologies ranging from a breath test that can detect multiple cancers to a pain-free tattoo. Surrounded by that kind of innovation, a visitor might overlook the lab stocked with little more than tubs of white powder and paint pots. After all, how interesting can white paint be?
When it comes to adapting to a hotter planet, the answer is: very.
As record temperatures baked Europe this summer, people desperately sought ways to cool their homes and workplaces. I stuck emergency foil blankets to my windows in an attempt to stop the heat from getting in; others tried coating the glass in yogurt or chalk. But of course, the most popular and effective option was air conditioning.
Sales of both conventional and portable units shot up this year, and the need for that cool breeze is only going in one direction: By 2035, the International Energy Agency predicts that global cooling demand could grow by about 2,300 terawatt-hours. (For context, that’s more than India’s total electricity demand in 2025.)
This is bad news for the energy transition. Consider that in 2023, the UK fired up a coal plant during a heatwave to meet AC demand. Yes, air conditioning can be a literal lifesaver, but if we want to avoid making the planet even hotter, it can’t be our only strategy.
That’s where paint comes in.
People in countries like Greece and Spain have been painting their homes white to keep them cool for centuries. White reflects most sunlight, making it better than other colors at preventing solar energy from being absorbed as heat. Commercial “solar-reflecting” paints reflect up to 90% of sunlight, but recent innovations in materials science promise to make white paint’s cooling properties even stronger.
The secret is something called daytime radiative cooling. Any object with a temperature above absolute zero emits heat as thermal infrared radiation. Some infrared wavelengths transfer more heat because they are able to pass through the atmosphere into the freezing depths of space. That process is how our planet cools itself.
Typically, net cooling only happens at night, when there’s no incoming sunlight — and therefore solar radiation — adding more heat. But in 2014, researchers at Stanford University demonstrated that it was possible to chill a surface to 5C below the ambient air temperature during the day by combining the power of reflective cooling (i.e. when white paint reflects sunlight) and radiative cooling (what happens when infrared radiation passes through the atmosphere).
More than a decade later, this technology is making its way into the marketplace…
[Williams describes the entrepreneurial efforts underway, examines their challenges, and explores their potential. She concludes…]
… Innovations that improve our lives don’t always look like talking computers or flying cars. As someone who suffered through too many sweaty, sleepless nights this summer, that humble bucket of white paint is starting to look pretty exciting.
As we stay cool, we might spare a thought for Sir John Leslie; he died on this date in 1832. A Scottish mathematician and physicist, he best remembered for his research into heat. Leslie gave the first modern account of capillary action in 1802 and froze water using an air-pump in 1810, the first artificial production of ice. Then, in 1804, he helped lay the scientific groundwork for the advances considered in the article linked above: he experimented with radiant heat using a cubical vessel filled with boiling water. One side of the cube was composed of highly polished metal, two of dull metal (copper), and one side painted black. He showed that radiation was greatest from the black side and negligible from the polished side. The apparatus is known as a Leslie cube.
Title-page woodcut from 1607, A True Report of Certaine Wonderfull Ouerflowings of Waters, Now Lately in Summerset-shire, Norfolke, and Other Places of England (1607) — Source
When the Bristol Channel flooded in 1607, it was not just one of the worst natural disasters in British history, it was also a sign, for many, that they had strayed from the path of God. Erik Crnkovich examines the overlap of miraculous weather and the early modern printing industry, which cultivated a thirst for all things occult, exotic, and odd…
When the Bristol Channel flooded on January 30, 1607, pamphlets describing it as God’s warning to a wayward people likewise flooded out of London’s booming presses. Rare weather events of all sorts are ironically commonplace in seventeenth-century news — a century otherwise tempestuous in its frequent, often literal, chopping and changing in church and state. In fact, the two are reflections of each other. True, British weather was consistently inconsistent during the Little Ice Age, a period of prolonged cold and wet that would not end for another two centuries. But the headlines reporting “prodigious” thunderstorms, “miraculous” apparitions, and “terrible” earthquakes were often followed by interpretations of them as moral weathervanes — divine providence, a sign to repent and return to the proverbial straight and narrow.
It is perhaps little surprise, then, that the pamphleteer William Jones rushed to the presses when a storm surge inundated 518 square kilometres surrounding the Bristol Channel. Present scholarship counts 2,000 recorded deaths, making it one of Britain’s worst natural disasters and, according to Jones, a judgement from God…
To date, recent responses to climate disasters have been notably devoid of “divine” interpretation; indeed, if anything, they’ve largely been written off as “just the weather being the weather.” As further extreme weather wreaks havoc and our online version of the “early modern printing” continues to unfold, could that change?
As we seek higher ground, we might recall that it was on this date in 1991 that the “Perfect Storm” formed…
On October 30, 1991, the so-called “perfect storm” formed in the North Atlantic, producing remarkably large waves along the New England and Canadian coasts. Over the next several days, the storm spread its fury over the ocean off the coast of Canada. The fishing boat Andrea Gail and its six-member crew were lost in the storm. The disaster spawned the bestselling book The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger and a blockbuster Hollywood movie of the same name.
On October 27, Hurricane Grace formed near Bermuda and moved toward the coast of the southeastern United States. Two days later, Grace continued to move north, where it encountered a massive low pressure system moving south from Canada. The clash of systems over the Atlantic Ocean caused 40-to-80-foot waves on October 30—unconfirmed reports put the waves at more than 100 feet in some locations. This massive surf caused extensive coastal flooding, particularly in Massachusetts; damage was also sustained as far south as Jamaica and as far north as Newfoundland… – source
A satellite image of the storm (source: NOAA/ Wikimedia Commons)
… and after Nature acts, so must we. But despite decades of warning, global emissions still aren’t falling.
As Madeleine Cuff reports, we should be springing into action…
It is now impossible for the world to limit global warming to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels, with emissions on track to cause 2.8°C of warming by the end of the century, the UN says.
Despite increasingly urgent warnings from scientists outlining the dangers of warming above 1.5°C, global emissions aren’t yet falling and governments around the world aren’t doing anywhere near enough to decarbonise their economies.
The only way to meet the 1.5°C target now is by “overshooting” that goal in the short term, the UN said in its latest Emissions Gap report, before relying on vast amounts of global cooling, delivered via technologies such as direct air capture, in the latter half of the century.
This “lowest possible” overshoot scenario would see the global temperature rise peak at 1.7°C to 1.8°C, with a 50 per cent chance of temperatures falling back to 1.5°C by 2100. To deliver this, the world would need to cut emissions by 18 per cent by 2030, 45 per cent by 2035 and 69 per cent by 2040, relative to 2025 levels. Under current climate pledges, emissions will only fall by 5 to 8 per cent by 2030, and 11 to 15 per cent by 2035.
Many scientists are hugely sceptical that the lowest possible overshoot scenario is politically and technologically feasible, given the rapid pace of emissions cuts required and the huge volume of mechanical and natural cooling that would be needed to reduce global temperatures after 2050 to achieve it.
“We don’t know whether we can overshoot,” says Bob Watson, emeritus professor at the University of East Anglia in the UK and former chair of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. “We don’t know if any of those technologies are real, and so when people assume that we can meet 1.5°C or 2°C, and the assumption is based on overshooting and coming back, I think they’re in cuckoo land.”
Last year’s Emissions Gap report saw the UN warn that overshooting 1.5°C was now inevitable. This year’s analysis sets out new “overshoot pathways” designed to keep the 1.5°C goal – a political totem for many countries – on life support. It calls on nations to focus on delivering the “lowest possible” 1.5°C pathway.
“Overshoot is not surrender. We can still keep it as small and as short as possible – and bring temperatures back below 1.5 degrees by the end of the century,” UN Secretary-General António Guterres said in a statement.
But the UN’s new report makes it clear how far off track the world still is to deliver even this “limited overshoot” pathway. Current national policies put the world on track for 2.8°C of warming by the end of the century. If nations meet all their climate promises, that is lowered to 2.1°C. This is worse than last year’s projection of 1.9°C of warming, driven mainly by the US’s exit from the UN climate process.
Joeri Rogelj at Imperial College London says overshoot should be seen “as a failure that we try to rectify”. But he says there is still value in using the 1.5°C goal, rather than adopting a higher temperature goal that could be achieved without overshoot. “The target is still to limit harm to vulnerable and poor populations, and that we don’t do by resetting the target to an inadequate limit of 2°C, or 2.5°C,” he says. “In the public debate, this failure to stay within this most ambitious limit should re-emphasise the need to stay as close to it as possible.”
As we act to ameliorate and adapt, we might recall that it was on this date in 2015 that Hurricane Wilma made landfall in the Everglades in Florida with maximum sustained winds near 120 mph. The hurricane accelerated across south Florida and the Miami/Fort Lauderdale area, exiting the coast later the same day. There were 10 fatalities in Florida, and nearly 6 million people lost power, the most widespread power outage in Florida history. Preliminary estimates of insured losses in Florida were over $6 billion, while uninsured losses were over $12 billion.
Scientists suggest that, while climate change may not increase the total number of storms (indeed, this year’s El Nino reduced them in the Atlantic), it will intensify hurricanes, making them stronger, wetter, slower-moving, and more destructive.
Radar image of Hurricane Wilma making landfall in South Florida (source)
Water levels are running dangerously low in reservoirs across the U.S. Southwest. Declining flows in the Gila River have pushed levels to below 1 percent of capacity in Arizona’s San Carlos Reservoir
The Western U.S. is grappling with an extended drought. Nikk Ogasa explores the possibility that this continued dryness (and the fires and other hazards associated with it) could be our new climate change induced reality…
Kearny, Ariz., is a town on the brink. Located at the foot of the Dripping Spring Mountains in eastern Arizona, this small community of 2,000 people sources its water from the Gila River, a verdant waterway that snakes by the southern edge of town.
But in March, the snowpack feeding the river had dropped to precipitous levels: It was just 1 percent of its historic norm for that time of year. The Gila River water commissioner slashed Kearny’s allotment of river water by some 85 percent. And in April, town officials announced that “Zero Day” was approaching, at which point the taps would run dry.
“We need rain,” says Norm Warren, a lifelong Kearny resident. He owns the only large grocery store within a 45-minute drive of the town. Without tap water for refrigerator cooling systems, Warren says he won’t be able to store perishable products like meats and fresh produce.
Kearny’s dilemma foreshadows a crisis building across the American Southwest. Since 2000, the region — which includes Arizona, New Mexico, California, Utah, Colorado and parts of northern Mexico — has endured a historic “megadrought,” or a period of severe dryness that persists for decades. Scientists say it’s the driest this region has been in 1,200 years.
“We’re 27 years into it, and it shows no signs of letting up,” says Brad Udall, a water and climate researcher at Colorado State University in Fort Collins.
Scientists point to two factors causing the drought — rising temperatures and declining precipitation. Heat from human-caused climate change creates a thirsty atmosphere that is more effective at drying out the landscape, says Kevin Anchukaitis, a dendrochronologist who runs the University of Arizona Laboratory for Tree-Ring Research in Tucson. As for the lack of rain, many researchers wonder if it is simply a stroke of bad luck.
But a controversial study published in Nature in 2025 suggests something far more ominous: Humankind has disrupted a naturally occurring climate cycle in the Pacific Ocean that historically ushered episodes of wet weather into the Southwest. If that’s true, Udall says, things are not looking good for places like Kearny. Other researchers worry that the megadrought may be locked in place for the foreseeable future…
[Ogasa unpacks both the more traiditional analysis and the new hypothesis– that human behavior has disrupted the Pacific Decadal Oscillation, or PDO, an alternating climate pattern in which areas of warmer and cooler than normal surface waters switch their positions on a timescale of many decades…]
… “The conventional wisdom suggested that the PDO could shift any given year, and we [wouldn’t] have to worry about drought [after that],” says climate scientist Jeremy Klavans of the University of Miami.
But he and colleagues weren’t so sure. They dug into that assumption, analyzing more than 500 simulations of the PDO from a dozen major climate models. They examined how the PDO shifted — and stabilized — in the presence of outside forces such as volcanic eruptions, solar variation and levels of greenhouse gases and aerosols.
Their finding: Greenhouse gas and aerosol emissions had effectively hijacked the behavior of the PDO over the last 50 years by altering atmospheric temperatures, the team reported in 2025 in Nature.
Ballooning concentrations of industrial aerosols — which can have an atmospheric cooling effect — probably pushed the PDO to increasingly favor its warm phase starting in the 1950s, the researchers say. But in the 1980s, clean air legislation decreased aerosol emissions even as greenhouse gas levels continued to rise and warm the atmosphere. That combination drove the PDO toward its cool phase, making drought conditions more likely in the Southwest. Instead of being a rare event, drought “becomes kind of commonplace,” Klavans says….
… the current climate models may actually be underestimating the potential duration of the ongoing megadrought, based on those findings, says study coauthor Victoria Todd, a climate scientist at the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colo.
That could be bad news for the American Southwest, Udall says. Even if people stopped emitting greenhouse gases today, planet-warming carbon dioxide will continue to accumulate in the atmosphere, locking the PDO and megadrought into place, potentially for decades. If the emerging science is right, then the Southwest is going to keep getting drier and drier, Udall says. “No question about it.”
Warm Phase (1977-1998): During the PDO’s warm phase, the Pacific jet stream (red arrow) moves south over North America, drawing wet weather patterns into the Southwest.
Cool phase (1999–now): When the PDO switches to its cool phase, the Pacific jet stream (blue arrow) moves north, diverting wet weather patterns out of the Southwest and making drought more likely.
The hypothesis that human emissions have disrupted the PDO could be put to the test this year. That’s because scientists are predicting a historically strong El Niño, a Pacific climate pattern characterized by months of warmer than normal sea surface temperatures in the eastern equatorial Pacific. El Niños often bring wet conditions to the Southwest — and they have been known to force the PDO into a different phase. For example, the 1976–1977 El Niño helped push the PDO into a warm phase for nearly a quarter of a century.
But a powerful El Niño in 2015 wasn’t able to force the switch for more than a few years. That suggests the PDO may be slowly changing, Klavans says. “Something’s different here.”
Even if the current El Niño is strong enough to force the PDO into a warm phase, no one should expect the megadrought to go away any time soon, Seager says. “We’re talking about something that’s been going on for a few decades now. Even one very wet winter is not going to be enough to restore Colorado River reservoirs to where they would preferably be.”…
… Even in the best-case scenarios, the Southwest never returns to the wet years of the 1980s and ’90s, when lakes Powell and Mead reached maximum capacity numerous times, the researchers reported in 2023 in npj Climate and Atmospheric Science. The findings instead suggest that, regardless of what the PDO does, the region will face a far drier climate than it did in its recent past. In other words, even if the megadrought were to end, the Southwest faces an uncertain future when it comes to water, according to the study.
Communities need to prepare for the future by improving their water conservation efforts and infrastructure, Anchukaitis says. Those practices will grow only more crucial as the Southwest’s population continues to balloon: Utah, Texas, Nevada, Colorado and Arizona are among the 10 fastest growing states by population this decade, according to a 2024 report by the University of Virginia’s Weldon Cooper Center for Public Service.
Even if wet weather returns, Anchukaitis says, the cities of the Southwest shouldn’t fall into complacency. “[More rain] doesn’t mean that … megadroughts aren’t going to come back,” he says. “Maybe it buys us some time to ease systems into a new way of thinking.”…
As we pray for rain, we might recall that it was on this date in 2006 that NASA recorded th largest ozone hole in the atmosphere to date. From September 21-30, the average area was 10.6 million square miles, as measured by the Ozone Monitoring Instrument on NASA’s Aura satellite. At the worst point, a record low of 1.2 Dobson Units compared to a 125 DU non-hole reading. For the past several decades, each year during the Southern Hemisphere Spring (Northern Hemisphere Autumn) chemical reactions due to chlorine and bromine man-made compounds in the atmosphere cause the destruction of ozone in the stratosphere over the southern polar region… all contributing to the phenomenon discussed above.
False-color view of total ozone over the Antarctic pole. The purple and blue colors are where there is the least ozone, and the yellows and reds are where there is more ozone. (source)
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