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What Will Happen If This Iconic Research Vessel Stops Drilling in the Deep Sea?

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Wednesday, July 24, 2024

The JOIDES Resolution in 2012 off the coast of Costa Rica, on an expedition to understand how earthquakes form Arito Sakaguchi & IODP/TAMU via Wikimedia Commons In July 2022, a football-sized, soft-sided UPS package from Germany arrived in my office mail room at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I was expecting the package, but I was surprised at just how insubstantial it seemed. I thought a firm cardboard box or container reinforced with foam padding would arrive. After all, it contained 89 sediment samples that I’d need to carefully analyze to find out about the past behavior of continental ice sheets in the Northern Hemisphere. The sediment samples were quite valuable because of the cost of collecting them, but they were free to me as part of an international effort to learn more about the workings of our planet. These particular samples came from a deep-sea sediment core drilled out of the ocean floor in 2004 in the Labrador Sea, between Greenland and Canada, by the JOIDES Resolution, a specialized deep-sea scientific drilling ship run by the U.S.-led International Ocean Discovery Program. Deep-sea scientific drilling is the process of retrieving cores, cylindrical tubes about 2.5 inches in diameter of both soft sediment and solid rock, from the material that makes up the ocean floor. On the JOIDES Resolution, or J.R., as scientists who work on the ship call it, computer-controlled thrusters hold a precise position on choppy waves. Meanwhile, the crew assembles 30-foot sections of metal pipes into a long tube capped with a drill bit until it reaches the seabed. Once the structure contacts the ocean floor, the team sends hollow plastic tubes down the pipe, which fill with sediment and rock as the drilling commences. The J.R. can drill in water up to about three and a half miles deep and then over a mile into the seafloor. JR In a Minute Core Drilling Onboard, teams of scientists working 12-hour shifts in the J.R.’s laboratories split open the tubes and begin to analyze the cores right away. Carl Brenner, who coordinates U.S. involvement in international scientific drilling efforts, says the scientists “descend on them like piranhas.” After the J.R. docks following an expedition, the crew sends the cores to one of three international repositories—in Germany, Texas and Japan. Once the scientists on the expedition get the samples they need for their research, technicians archive the cores. Then, researchers can request pieces of a core, and approved samples are mailed out, like those that I received a couple years ago. Unfortunately, the J.R.’s funding is expiring, and the ship won’t be drilling any new cores after this year for the International Ocean Discovery Program. While the ship’s exact future is uncertain, scientists will likely have to turn to new sources of deep-sea samples for their work. The JOIDES Resolution set sail on its first expedition to collect scientific samples from the deep seafloor in January 1985. Since then, the J.R. has sailed on 194 expeditions, drilled at over 1,000 sites, and collected almost 250 miles of sediment and rock cores from beneath the seabed. From those samples, scientists have confirmed the theory of plate tectonics, unraveled millions of years of Earth’s climatic history and found life in unexpected places. “I always point out that journal Nature called it arguably the most successful international science collaboration of all time,” says Brenner, “and I think I think that’s a fair assessment.” But, with domestic funding and international partnerships both dwindling, the J.R.’s current expedition in the Arctic Ocean will be its last as the flagship of the International Ocean Discovery Program. The unexpected end comes years ahead of the scheduled expiration of the ship’s environmental impact statement, which offered a clean bill of health for the vessel until 2028. “Many in the community were sort of shocked by that decision,” says Maureen Walczak, a paleoceanographer at Oregon State University. “We sort of all assumed that it would continue to be supported through the end of that environmental impact statement.” With no workhorse vessel to anchor the U.S.-led scientific seafloor drilling mission for at least the next 10 to 15 years, the future of the program is uncertain. Not since the Nixon administration kicked off the International Decade of Ocean Exploration for the 1970s has the U.S. been without a flagship drill ship. Nick Pisias, a retired oceanographer at Oregon State University who sailed on his first scientific drilling expedition on the J.R.’s predecessor and served as head of the drilling program in the late 1990s, says the decision to dock the J.R. leaves the scientists who work with deep-sea samples in the lurch. “What would happen if you took all the observatories away from the astronomers?” he asks. “The impact of the drilling program to the earth science community has been huge.” If the J.R. does not somehow gain new life, researchers will still have access to other, smaller drill ships. But the unique capabilities of the J.R. cannot currently be replicated by any other vessels. When the J.R. became the primary vessel of U.S. deep-sea scientific drilling in the mid-1980s, the field had already been developing for several decades. In 1961, the writer John Steinbeck sailed aboard the first major U.S. scientific drilling operation, called Project Mohole. The CUSS I, filled with scientists and technicians, drilled about 600 feet into the ocean floor near Guadalupe Island in the Pacific Ocean. For the first time, scientists penetrated the soft sediments that blanket the seabed and into the solid crust that lies beneath it. Samples taken during that groundbreaking discovery are now held in the collection of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History. This accomplishment proved scientific drilling could be successful, and in 1966 the National Science Foundation signed a contract to fund the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in San Diego to lead U.S. drilling efforts. This program, called the Deep Sea Drilling Project, was carried out aboard the Glomar Challenger. The Challenger made its first scientific sojourn in fall 1968. On its third expedition, in spring 1970, it confirmed a then paradigm-shifting understanding of how the Earth works: the theory of plate tectonics. At the time, only indirect measurements of the ocean floor supported the now common idea that new ocean crust was created at mid-ocean ridges, pushing the continents apart and leading to the processes that create deep ocean trenches, volcanoes and mountains. But, says Brenner, the samples collected through deep-sea drilling in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean directly showed the planet’s surface was made of tectonic plates that split apart, grinded against each other, and dramatically collided. “It wasn’t until we actually drilled those sediments,” he says, “that it was proven.” The Challenger made its final voyage as the United States’ primary drill ship in November 1983. By that time, drilling technology had improved to the point that it made sense to upgrade to a larger, more advanced platform­—the JOIDES Resolution—in 1985. The J.R. drilled deeper than the Challenger, and it didn’t churn up the sediment and its original structure. Since ocean sediments settle to the bottom of the sea in layers, newer sediment buries and preserves older material. These layers contain information about what conditions were like in the atmosphere, on land and in the ocean. These advances in deep-sea scientific research have allowed scientists to reconstruct a clear image of the history of the planet’s climate going back millions of years. “The wealth of information you can get from [deep-sea scientific drilling] is incomparable to anything else,” says Walczak. A drill bit from the J.R. The bit surrounds the hole where deep-sea cores are collected and retrieved through a pipe. UCL Mathematical & Physical Sciences from London, UK via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY 2.0 Walczak knows the value of the J.R.’s capabilities based on personal experience. In the late 2000s, Walczak was working on her PhD analyzing a 40-foot-long sediment core taken from the Gulf of Alaska by another ship. The core was just a fraction of the depth of sample the J.R. could extract from the seabed. She used samples from that core to reveal new details about how the western United States and Canada responded to the warming at the end of the last ice age. The sample allowed her to look back 15,000 years. Then, in 2013, Walczak sailed as a scientist on the J.R. The expedition returned to the site of the smaller core, with the goal of going even deeper down in the seafloor and thus further back in time. Almost immediately after the drill reached the seabed at the site, the crew pulled up the first of many sections of core. Already, they’d drilled as deep as the entire core Walczak previously worked with. “Then they shot another core, and then another core, and then another core, and they just brought up 90 to 100 meters of seafloor, and all of it was unexplored,” Walczak says, “it kind of blew my mind.” The crew drilled deep enough at that site to get about 50,000 years of high-resolution information about the climate and history of the mountainous areas of North America that drain to the Gulf of Alaska.And the J.R. has been the vessel for discoveries far beyond those tied to understanding the Earth’s past climate. Over the course of the ship’s journeys, scientists have unexpectedly found living microbes buried under almost a mile of sediment, gained insights into origins of life at hydrothermal vents, found direct evidence of the impact crater from the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs, and discovered data to help better predict coastal earthquakes and tsunamis. Nevertheless, a funding shortfall is making the continuation of the program in its current form untenable. Currently the U.S., through the National Science Foundation (NSF), contributes about $48 million each year to the J.R., which costs $72 million annually to operate. The remainder is supposed to be made up by international partners. The problem, says Brenner, “is that their contributions have been declining, and so NSF can’t afford to do it on its own.” Last year the National Science Foundation decided to end the agreement that funds the scientific use of the privately owned J.R., making the current expedition its last for the program. “For want of a few tens of millions of dollars,” says Brenner, “it’s a painful loss.” Lauren Haygood, a doctoral candidate at Oklahoma State University, planned to be onboard the J.R. for this voyage. Unfortunately, a last-minute illness forced her to get off the ship just before it left port. But she’s still actively involved in the research and working closely with those onboard. She says the scientists involved with this expedition are acutely aware it will be the last for this program—though whether the vessel could continue somehow in another arrangement, at least through the expiration of its environmental impact statement in 2028, is unknown. What the plan for deep-sea scientific drilling for American scientists will look like in the future isn’t yet clear. Brenner says the National Science Foundation plans to continue supporting different forms of scientific drilling at the same level, $48 million, in the short term. In the long term, conversations about funding the creation of a new, replacement vessel for the U.S. scientific community are ongoing. “You’re talking 12 to 15 years for something like that,” Brenner says. “We can’t afford to wait that long to acquire new core. We need to figure out a way to keep the momentum.” Without a dedicated vessel, like the J.R., researchers will contract other, smaller, research vessels on an individual basis. “Hopefully, as many as two or three a year if the money goes that far,” Brenner says. But these ships won’t have the full suite of onboard scientific laboratories boasted by the J.R. Both Brenner and Walczak stress that scientists are going to get creative and develop new technologies that enhance the capabilities of sampling the depths of the seafloor. They point toward the development of robotic seafloor landers that might be able to drill in hard-to-reach places. Other scientists, like me, will turn to the vast archives of cores retrieved by the J.R. to ply them for answers. In the meantime, in a world with a changing climate spurred by the burning of fossil fuels, Walczak says, understanding how the Earth responded in the past to abrupt climate change by looking at deep-sea sediments is more important than ever. This crucial expedition of the J.R. illustrates her point­. The goal is to gather evidence of past ice sheet retreat in the Arctic in hopes it will help us better understand the glaciers currently melting in Antarctica. “That could give us more insight into sea level rise and climate,” says Haygood, “and what might happen in the future.” Get the latest Science stories in your inbox.

After a career marked by major discoveries, the JOIDES Resolution is likely on its last official mission to retrieve rock cores from the ocean floor

JOIDES Resolution
The JOIDES Resolution in 2012 off the coast of Costa Rica, on an expedition to understand how earthquakes form Arito Sakaguchi & IODP/TAMU via Wikimedia Commons

In July 2022, a football-sized, soft-sided UPS package from Germany arrived in my office mail room at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I was expecting the package, but I was surprised at just how insubstantial it seemed. I thought a firm cardboard box or container reinforced with foam padding would arrive. After all, it contained 89 sediment samples that I’d need to carefully analyze to find out about the past behavior of continental ice sheets in the Northern Hemisphere.

The sediment samples were quite valuable because of the cost of collecting them, but they were free to me as part of an international effort to learn more about the workings of our planet. These particular samples came from a deep-sea sediment core drilled out of the ocean floor in 2004 in the Labrador Sea, between Greenland and Canada, by the JOIDES Resolution, a specialized deep-sea scientific drilling ship run by the U.S.-led International Ocean Discovery Program.

Deep-sea scientific drilling is the process of retrieving cores, cylindrical tubes about 2.5 inches in diameter of both soft sediment and solid rock, from the material that makes up the ocean floor.

On the JOIDES Resolution, or J.R., as scientists who work on the ship call it, computer-controlled thrusters hold a precise position on choppy waves. Meanwhile, the crew assembles 30-foot sections of metal pipes into a long tube capped with a drill bit until it reaches the seabed. Once the structure contacts the ocean floor, the team sends hollow plastic tubes down the pipe, which fill with sediment and rock as the drilling commences.

The J.R. can drill in water up to about three and a half miles deep and then over a mile into the seafloor.

JR In a Minute Core Drilling

Onboard, teams of scientists working 12-hour shifts in the J.R.’s laboratories split open the tubes and begin to analyze the cores right away. Carl Brenner, who coordinates U.S. involvement in international scientific drilling efforts, says the scientists “descend on them like piranhas.”

After the J.R. docks following an expedition, the crew sends the cores to one of three international repositories—in Germany, Texas and Japan. Once the scientists on the expedition get the samples they need for their research, technicians archive the cores. Then, researchers can request pieces of a core, and approved samples are mailed out, like those that I received a couple years ago.

Unfortunately, the J.R.’s funding is expiring, and the ship won’t be drilling any new cores after this year for the International Ocean Discovery Program. While the ship’s exact future is uncertain, scientists will likely have to turn to new sources of deep-sea samples for their work.


The JOIDES Resolution set sail on its first expedition to collect scientific samples from the deep seafloor in January 1985. Since then, the J.R. has sailed on 194 expeditions, drilled at over 1,000 sites, and collected almost 250 miles of sediment and rock cores from beneath the seabed.

From those samples, scientists have confirmed the theory of plate tectonics, unraveled millions of years of Earth’s climatic history and found life in unexpected places.

“I always point out that journal Nature called it arguably the most successful international science collaboration of all time,” says Brenner, “and I think I think that’s a fair assessment.”

But, with domestic funding and international partnerships both dwindling, the J.R.’s current expedition in the Arctic Ocean will be its last as the flagship of the International Ocean Discovery Program.

The unexpected end comes years ahead of the scheduled expiration of the ship’s environmental impact statement, which offered a clean bill of health for the vessel until 2028. “Many in the community were sort of shocked by that decision,” says Maureen Walczak, a paleoceanographer at Oregon State University. “We sort of all assumed that it would continue to be supported through the end of that environmental impact statement.”

With no workhorse vessel to anchor the U.S.-led scientific seafloor drilling mission for at least the next 10 to 15 years, the future of the program is uncertain. Not since the Nixon administration kicked off the International Decade of Ocean Exploration for the 1970s has the U.S. been without a flagship drill ship.

Nick Pisias, a retired oceanographer at Oregon State University who sailed on his first scientific drilling expedition on the J.R.’s predecessor and served as head of the drilling program in the late 1990s, says the decision to dock the J.R. leaves the scientists who work with deep-sea samples in the lurch. “What would happen if you took all the observatories away from the astronomers?” he asks. “The impact of the drilling program to the earth science community has been huge.” If the J.R. does not somehow gain new life, researchers will still have access to other, smaller drill ships. But the unique capabilities of the J.R. cannot currently be replicated by any other vessels.

When the J.R. became the primary vessel of U.S. deep-sea scientific drilling in the mid-1980s, the field had already been developing for several decades. In 1961, the writer John Steinbeck sailed aboard the first major U.S. scientific drilling operation, called Project Mohole. The CUSS I, filled with scientists and technicians, drilled about 600 feet into the ocean floor near Guadalupe Island in the Pacific Ocean. For the first time, scientists penetrated the soft sediments that blanket the seabed and into the solid crust that lies beneath it. Samples taken during that groundbreaking discovery are now held in the collection of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History.

This accomplishment proved scientific drilling could be successful, and in 1966 the National Science Foundation signed a contract to fund the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in San Diego to lead U.S. drilling efforts. This program, called the Deep Sea Drilling Project, was carried out aboard the Glomar Challenger.

The Challenger made its first scientific sojourn in fall 1968. On its third expedition, in spring 1970, it confirmed a then paradigm-shifting understanding of how the Earth works: the theory of plate tectonics. At the time, only indirect measurements of the ocean floor supported the now common idea that new ocean crust was created at mid-ocean ridges, pushing the continents apart and leading to the processes that create deep ocean trenches, volcanoes and mountains.

But, says Brenner, the samples collected through deep-sea drilling in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean directly showed the planet’s surface was made of tectonic plates that split apart, grinded against each other, and dramatically collided. “It wasn’t until we actually drilled those sediments,” he says, “that it was proven.”

The Challenger made its final voyage as the United States’ primary drill ship in November 1983. By that time, drilling technology had improved to the point that it made sense to upgrade to a larger, more advanced platform­—the JOIDES Resolution—in 1985.

The J.R. drilled deeper than the Challenger, and it didn’t churn up the sediment and its original structure. Since ocean sediments settle to the bottom of the sea in layers, newer sediment buries and preserves older material. These layers contain information about what conditions were like in the atmosphere, on land and in the ocean.

These advances in deep-sea scientific research have allowed scientists to reconstruct a clear image of the history of the planet’s climate going back millions of years. “The wealth of information you can get from [deep-sea scientific drilling] is incomparable to anything else,” says Walczak.

DeepSea Drill Bit
A drill bit from the J.R. The bit surrounds the hole where deep-sea cores are collected and retrieved through a pipe. UCL Mathematical & Physical Sciences from London, UK via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY 2.0

Walczak knows the value of the J.R.’s capabilities based on personal experience. In the late 2000s, Walczak was working on her PhD analyzing a 40-foot-long sediment core taken from the Gulf of Alaska by another ship. The core was just a fraction of the depth of sample the J.R. could extract from the seabed. She used samples from that core to reveal new details about how the western United States and Canada responded to the warming at the end of the last ice age. The sample allowed her to look back 15,000 years.

Then, in 2013, Walczak sailed as a scientist on the J.R. The expedition returned to the site of the smaller core, with the goal of going even deeper down in the seafloor and thus further back in time. Almost immediately after the drill reached the seabed at the site, the crew pulled up the first of many sections of core. Already, they’d drilled as deep as the entire core Walczak previously worked with.

“Then they shot another core, and then another core, and then another core, and they just brought up 90 to 100 meters of seafloor, and all of it was unexplored,” Walczak says, “it kind of blew my mind.”

The crew drilled deep enough at that site to get about 50,000 years of high-resolution information about the climate and history of the mountainous areas of North America that drain to the Gulf of Alaska.

And the J.R. has been the vessel for discoveries far beyond those tied to understanding the Earth’s past climate. Over the course of the ship’s journeys, scientists have unexpectedly found living microbes buried under almost a mile of sediment, gained insights into origins of life at hydrothermal vents, found direct evidence of the impact crater from the meteorite that killed the dinosaurs, and discovered data to help better predict coastal earthquakes and tsunamis. Nevertheless, a funding shortfall is making the continuation of the program in its current form untenable.

Currently the U.S., through the National Science Foundation (NSF), contributes about $48 million each year to the J.R., which costs $72 million annually to operate. The remainder is supposed to be made up by international partners. The problem, says Brenner, “is that their contributions have been declining, and so NSF can’t afford to do it on its own.”

Last year the National Science Foundation decided to end the agreement that funds the scientific use of the privately owned J.R., making the current expedition its last for the program. “For want of a few tens of millions of dollars,” says Brenner, “it’s a painful loss.”

Lauren Haygood, a doctoral candidate at Oklahoma State University, planned to be onboard the J.R. for this voyage. Unfortunately, a last-minute illness forced her to get off the ship just before it left port. But she’s still actively involved in the research and working closely with those onboard. She says the scientists involved with this expedition are acutely aware it will be the last for this program—though whether the vessel could continue somehow in another arrangement, at least through the expiration of its environmental impact statement in 2028, is unknown.

What the plan for deep-sea scientific drilling for American scientists will look like in the future isn’t yet clear. Brenner says the National Science Foundation plans to continue supporting different forms of scientific drilling at the same level, $48 million, in the short term.

In the long term, conversations about funding the creation of a new, replacement vessel for the U.S. scientific community are ongoing. “You’re talking 12 to 15 years for something like that,” Brenner says. “We can’t afford to wait that long to acquire new core. We need to figure out a way to keep the momentum.”

Without a dedicated vessel, like the J.R., researchers will contract other, smaller, research vessels on an individual basis. “Hopefully, as many as two or three a year if the money goes that far,” Brenner says. But these ships won’t have the full suite of onboard scientific laboratories boasted by the J.R.

Both Brenner and Walczak stress that scientists are going to get creative and develop new technologies that enhance the capabilities of sampling the depths of the seafloor. They point toward the development of robotic seafloor landers that might be able to drill in hard-to-reach places. Other scientists, like me, will turn to the vast archives of cores retrieved by the J.R. to ply them for answers.

In the meantime, in a world with a changing climate spurred by the burning of fossil fuels, Walczak says, understanding how the Earth responded in the past to abrupt climate change by looking at deep-sea sediments is more important than ever.

This crucial expedition of the J.R. illustrates her point­. The goal is to gather evidence of past ice sheet retreat in the Arctic in hopes it will help us better understand the glaciers currently melting in Antarctica. “That could give us more insight into sea level rise and climate,” says Haygood, “and what might happen in the future.”

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Indigenous People Reflect on the Meaning of Their Participation in COP30 Climate Talks

At United Nations climate talks billed widely as having a special focus on Indigenous people, those people themselves have mixed feelings about whether the highlight reel matches reality

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — Indigenous people filled the streets, paddled the waterways and protested at the heart of the venue to make their voices heard during the United Nations climate talks that were supposed to give them a voice like never before at the annual conference. As the talks, called COP30, concluded Saturday in Belem, Brazil, Indigenous people reflected on what the conference meant to them and whether they were heard. Brazilian leaders had high hopes that the summit, taking place in the Amazon, would empower the people who inhabit the land and protect the biodiversity of the world’s largest rainforest, which helps stave off climate change as its trees absorb carbon pollution that heats the planet.Many Indigenous people who attended the talks felt strengthened by the solidarity with tribes from other countries and some appreciated small wins in the final outcome. But for many, the talks fell short on representation, ambition and true action on climate issues affecting Indigenous people.“This was a COP where we were visible but not empowered,” said Thalia Yarina Cachimuel, a Kichwa-Otavalo member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation, a group of Indigenous people from around the world. Some language wins but nothing on fossil fuels Taily Terena, an Indigenous woman from the Terena nation in Brazil, said she was happy because the text for the first time mentioned those rights explicitly.But Mindahi Bastida, an Otomí-Toltec member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation, said countries should have pushed harder for agreements on how to phase out fuels like oil, gas and coal “and not to see nature as merchandise, but to see it as sacred.” Several nations pushed for a road map to curtail use of fossil fuels, which when burned release greenhouse gases that warm the planet. Saturday's final decision left out any mention of fossil fuels, leaving many countries disappointed. Brazil also launched a financial mechanism that countries could donate to, which was supposed to help incentivize nations with lots of forest to keep those ecosystems intact.Although the initiative received monetary pledges from a few countries, the project and the idea of creating a market for carbon are false solutions that "don't stop pollution, they just move it around,” said Jacob Johns, a Wisdom Keeper of the Akimel O’Otham and Hopi nations.“They hand corporations a license to keep drilling, keep burning, keep destroying, so long as they can point to an offset written on paper. It's the same colonial logic dressed up as climate policy," Johns said.“What we have seen at this COP is a focus on symbolic presence rather than enabling the full and effective participation of Indigenous Peoples," Sara Olsvig, chair of the Inuit Circumpolar Council, wrote in a message after the conference concluded.Edson Krenak, Brazil manager for Indigenous rights group Cultural Survival and member of the Krenak people, didn't think negotiators did enough to visit forests or understand the communities living there. He also didn't believe the 900 Indigenous people given access to the main venue was enough.Sônia Guajajara, Brazil's minister of Indigenous peoples, who is Indigenous herself, framed the convention differently. “It is undeniable that this is the largest and best COP in terms of Indigenous participation and protagonism,” she said. Protests showed power of Indigenous solidarity While the decisions by delegates left some Indigenous attendees feeling dismissed, many said they felt empowered by participating in demonstrations outside the venue. When the summit began on Nov. 10, Paulo André Paz de Lima, an Amazonian Indigenous leader, thought his tribe and others didn’t have access to COP30. During the first week, he and a group of demonstrators broke through the barrier to get inside the venue. Authorities quickly intervened and stopped their advancement.De Lima said that act helped Indigenous people amplify their voices.“After breaking the barrier, we were able to enter COP, get into the Blue Zone and express our needs,” he said, referring to the official negotiation area. “We got closer (to the negotiations), got more visibility."The meaning of protest at this COP wasn't just to get the attention of non-Indigenous people, it also was intended as a way for Indigenous people to commune with each other. On the final night before an agreement was reached, a small group with banners walked inside the venue, protesting instances of violence and environmental destruction from the recent killing of a Guarani youth on his own territory to the proposed Prince Rupert Gas Transmission Project in Canada.“We have to come together to show up, you know? Because they need to hear us,” Leandro Karaí of the Guarani people of South America said of the solidarity among Indigenous groups. “When we’re together with others, we’re stronger.“They sang to the steady beat of a drum, locked arms in a line and marched down the long hall of the COP venue to the exit, breaking the silence in the corridors as negotiators remained deadlocked inside. Then they emerged, voices raised, under a yellow sky.The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. The AP is solely responsible for all content. Find the AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

Takeaways From the Outcome of UN Climate Talks in Brazil

After two weeks of negotiations, this year’s United Nations climate talks have ended with what critics are calling a weak compromise

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — After two weeks of negotiations, this year's United Nations climate talks ended Saturday with a compromise that some criticized as weak and others called progress.The deal finalized at the COP30 conference pledges more money to help countries adapt to climate change, but lacks explicit plans to transition away from the fossil fuels such as oil, coal and gas that heat the planet.But that disappointment is mixed with a few wins and the hope for countries to make more progress next year.Here's what you need to know about the outcome. Leaders tried to nail down specifics on fighting climate change Leaders have been working on how to fight the impacts of climate change, such as extreme weather and sea level rise, for a decade. To do that, every country had the homework of writing up their own national climate plans and then reconvened this month to see if it was enough.Brazil, host of the climate conference known as COP30, was trying to get them to cooperate on the toughest issues like climate-related trade restrictions, funding for climate solutions, national climate-fighting plans and more transparency on measuring those plans' progress. More than 80 countries tried to introduce a detailed guide to phase out fossil fuels over the next several decades. There were other to-do items on topics including deforestation, gender and farming. Countries reached what critics called a weak compromise Nations agreed to triple the amount of money promised to help the vulnerable countries adapt to climate change. But they will take five more years to do it. Some vulnerable island countries said they were happy about the financial support. But the final document didn't include a road map away from fossil fuels, angering many.After the agreement was reached, COP President André Corrêa do Lago said Brazil would take an extra step and write their own road map. Not all countries signed up to this, but those on board will meet next year to specifically talk about the fossil fuel phase out. It would not carry the same weight as something agreed to at the conference.Also included in the package were smaller agreements on energy grids and biofuels. Responses ranged from happy to angry “Given what we expected, what we came out with, we were happy,” said Ilana Seid, chair of the Alliance of Small Island States.But others felt discouraged. Heated exchanges took place during the conference’s final meeting as countries snipped at each other about the fossil fuel plan.“I will be brutally honest: The COP and the U.N. system are not working for you. They have never really worked for you. And today, they are failing you at a historic scale,” said Juan Carlos Monterrey Gomez, a negotiator for Panama.Jiwoh Abdulai, Sierra Leone’s environment and climate change minister said: “COP30 has not delivered everything Africa asked for, but it has moved the needle.” He added: "This is a floor, not a ceiling.”The real outcome of this year’s climate talks will be judged on “how quickly these words turn into real projects that protect lives and livelihoods,” he said. Talks set against the Amazon rainforest Participants experienced the Amazon’s extreme heat and humidity and heavy rains that flooded walkways. Organizers who chose Belem, on the edge of the rainforest, as the host city had intended for countries to experience firsthand what was at stake with climate change, and take bold action to stop it.But afterward, critics said the deal shows how hard it is to find global cooperation on issues that affect everyone, most of all people in poverty, Indigenous people, women and children around the world.“At the start of this COP, there was this high level of ambition. We started with a bang, but we ended with a whimper of disappointment," said former Philippine negotiator Jasper Inventor, now at Greenpeace International. Indigenous people, civil society and youth One of the nicknames for the climate talks in Brazil was the “Indigenous peoples' COP.” Yet some in those groups said they had to fight to be heard. Protesters from Indigenous groups twice disrupted the conference to demand a bigger seat at the table. While Indigenous people's rights weren't officially on the agenda, Taily Terena, an Indigenous woman from the Terena nation in Brazil, said so far she is happy with the text because for the first time it includes a paragraph mentioning Indigenous rights.She supported countries speaking up on procedural issues because that’s how multilateralism works. “It’s kind of chaotic, but from our perspective, it’s kind of good that some countries have a reaction,” she said.The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.This story was produced as part of the 2025 Climate Change Media Partnership, a journalism fellowship organized by Internews’ Earth Journalism Network and the Stanley Center for Peace and Security.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

The Climate Impact of Owning a Dog

My dog contributes to climate change. I love him anyway.

This story originally appeared on Grist and is part of the Climate Desk collaboration.I’ve been a vegetarian for over a decade. It’s not because of my health, or because I dislike the taste of chicken or beef: It’s a lifestyle choice I made because I wanted to reduce my impact on the planet. And yet, twice a day, every day, I lovingly scoop a cup of meat-based kibble into a bowl and set it down for my 50-pound rescue dog, a husky mix named Loki.WIRED's Guide to How the Universe WorksYour weekly roundup of the best stories on health care, the climate crisis, new scientific discoveries, and more. Until recently, I hadn’t devoted a huge amount of thought to that paradox. Then I read an article in the Associated Press headlined “People often miscalculate climate choices, a study says. One surprise is owning a dog.”The study, led by environmental psychology researcher Danielle Goldwert and published in the journal PNAS Nexus, examined how people perceive the climate impact of various behaviors—options like “adopt a vegan diet for at least one year,” or “shift from fossil fuel car to renewable public transport.” The team found that participants generally overestimated a number of low-impact actions like recycling and using efficient appliances, and they vastly underestimated the impact of other personal decisions, including the decision to “not purchase or adopt a dog.”The real objective of the study was to see whether certain types of climate information could help people commit to more effective actions. But mere hours after the AP published its article, its aim had been recast as something else entirely: an attack on people’s furry family members. “Climate change is actually your fault because you have a dog,” one Reddit user wrote. Others in the community chimed in with ire, ridiculing the idea that a pet Chihuahua could be driving the climate crisis and calling on researchers and the media to stop pointing fingers at everyday individuals.Goldwert and her fellow researchers watched the reactions unfold with dismay. “If I saw a headline that said, ‘Climate scientists want to take your dogs away,’ I would also feel upset,” she said. “They definitely don’t,” she added. “You can quote me on that.”Loki grinning on a hike in the Pacific Northwest. Photograph: Claire Elise Thompson/Grist

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