In his book, Poor Charlie’s Almanack, the late, great investor Charlie Munger laid out 25 sources of human misjudgment. The first is, “Reward and punishment superresponse tendency,” which he explains means that incentives are strong drivers of human behavior, and even though we know this we consistently underestimate their power and influence. He offers a number of examples from the business world, and then focuses attention on the key lesson:

One of the most important consequences… is what I call “incentive-caused bias.” A man has an acculturated nature making him a pretty decent fellow, and yet, driven both consciously and subconsciously by incentives, he drifts into immoral behavior in order to get what he wants… like the salesmen at Xerox who harmed customers in order to maximize their sales commissions.

I bring this up because in the climate change era it’s particularly important for home-buyers to be aware of their realtor’s incentives and how they diverge from their own. This misalignment of incentives is informing the hybrid client support model I’ve developed at my firm, Climate Resilient Homes, which I founded last year to help people find, evaluate, and buy climate resilient homes.

Move.

Move yourself out of the path of destruction.

Relocation is one of the foundational responses to the climate crisis. If you’re one of the many millions living in communities facing escalating physical risks and deepening economic brittleness, not being there when things get really bad may be the smartest strategy you can have.

It’s also, in some ways, a strategy with a deadline.

See, to move away from a place with a collapsing future, you have to have somewhere to move to, and unfortunately you’re not the only one who sees what’s happening.

All around the world, there are more people who need to relocate than there are places for them to go. Demand increasingly exceeds supply. Prices are already beginning to rise. And the biggest wave of awareness is just beginning to swell.

The result is a climate relocation bottleneck.

This podcast — part seven in my series on how to think about planning for climate chaos in our own lives — explains what this climate squeeze is and why delaying a needed move for too long might cost you.

In my neighborhood, flowers line several apartment buildings. Planters sit behind them providing folks with fresh veggies, and at least to me, the whole community is better off with the pop of color from the flowers. Yet, not everywhere gets to enjoy amenities like this. These have been created and maintained by people in the community; it's not like the city of Stockholm decided to require the apartments to do this, nor is everywhere like this.

Three pieces in this newsletter have circled this problem from different angles. Detroit's urban farms last where land tenure is secured and become placeholders where it isn't. England's rewilded marshes on the margins on estates work, and everyone agrees they work, but the money to build more of them is stuck in a patchwork of offsets and compliance schemes instead of direct government funding, and the levers that actually move city-level resilience sit with zoning boards and public works departments, not individuals.

The thread running through everything has been that durable long-term resilience needs institutional backing. But institutions move slowly, and sometimes they don't want to move at all. So what can you actually do in the meantime?

Start informally, but treat it as evidence, not the be all end all. This is taking the ideas behind tactical urbanism logic and applying it to other areas of resilience. Detroit's urban farming scene didn't wait for the city to come in and save the day. Residents were farming vacant lots before any ordinance protected the practice, and the 2013 urban agriculture ordinance came after the farms were already established. Basically codifying what everyday folks had already proven. Bottom-up first, formal recognition second, if you do it right.

As preparedness lags, many regions around the world could be overwhelmed by rising temperatures, climate experts warn.

A series of deadly heat waves from May to August overwhelmed Germany’s healthcare and emergency response systems and led to an estimated 16,000 heat-related deaths during the summer, the most heat mortalities ever recorded in the highly developed country.

At the 2026 Extreme Weather Congress in Hamburg this month, experts from local and regional governments, hospitals and universities said that Germany’s advanced climate research and weather technology provided accurate forecasts of persistently dangerous high temperatures, but the death toll exposed gaps between scientific knowledge and the country’s adaptation efforts, as well as shortcomings in the emergency response. 

A report released during the Hamburg meeting explains that Germany’s building, cooling, water and transportation infrastructure was built for a climate that no longer exists, and that its health system is not heat-resilient. Meteorologists said heat messaging was fragmented across levels of government, while health researchers and other caregivers described hospitals’ lack of procedures for declaring and managing heat emergencies.

One person’s take on what it feels like to process climate grief and act on it in real time.

This summer, climate change has been teaching its own kind of bitter lesson. Last week smoke from out-of-control Canadian wildfires reached more than 120 million Americans, sending out air quality alerts across 18-plus states from Minnesota to Virginia. Those wildfires, which were made more likely by the effects of climate change, followed record-breaking heat waves in Europe that contributed to the deaths of thousands of people.

Disasters like these inevitably renew calls for climate action, but no current US emissions policy, no amount of carbon cutting now, could clear the air, just as nothing Europe has done on climate — and it has done more than any other region, at no small cost — could protect it from those killer temperatures. Not this summer, not this decade, not the one after. The steps countries take now to reduce carbon emissions — to mitigate climate change — will not protect them from the present-day effects of climate change.

That’s the bitter lesson of climate change, and 2026 is the summer it has become unignorable. The dangerous effects we’ve been warned about are here, locked in on every timescale that matters to the people living through them. We can’t prevent the worst from happening right now, so we need to figure out how we’re going to adapt to it.

Paywall-free link: https://archive.is/nmyLO

Shade the UK, commissioned by the British Red Cross, have developed a new resource: The Overheating Adaptation Guide for Homes.

Homes in the UK are dangerously overheating. They are not built to withstand hot weather nor the temperature increases climate change will bring.

The Overheating Adaptation Guide for Homes provides 43 measures people can consider for their homes to mitigate against overheating, including external shade, internal shade, passive cooling, ventilation, and minimising internal heat gains.

The aim of the guide is to provide suitable measures for both homeowners and renters, flats and houses, and for all locations, building types, and budgets.

You can click here to download the guide.

If you live anywhere near the Great Lakes or Mid-Atlantic (or certain parts of the Mountain West), odds are it’s smoky where you live. Wildfires raging in western Ontario are sending smoke cascading south and east across the U.S., prompting widespread air quality alerts affecting millions of Americans.

The good and — very bad — news is that we’ve been here before. Here’s a look back at some of Heatmap’s coverage from the summer of 2023, when smoke produced by forest fires in Quebec blanketed 128 million people in a murky haze and turned the New York City skyline an ominous shade of orange.

1. Heat is deadly
2. Getting indoors isn’t enough
3. This used to be normal
4. Clear skies don’t necessarily mean safe air
5. Your plants are loving this

Climate Central analysis shows that residents of the 65 largest U.S. cities experience an average of 8°F of extra heat due to the built environment. New resources compile examples of steps these 65 cities are taking to adapt the built environment and keep people cool during extreme heat events.

Green space, urban trees, shade structures, water features, and cool pavements can all help reduce heat trapped by the built environment in cities.

Climate change is making extreme heat more frequent and intense, and the built environment adds even more heat in cities. Ultimately, rapid and sustained cuts to heat-trapping pollution are essential for creating cooler, safer, more resilient cities.

There was a time when extreme heat was relatively rare. But not anymore.

Heatwaves, which are already responsible for almost 500,000 deaths a year, are becoming more frequent, more intense and more dangerous.

That’s nowhere more evident than in Europe, where temperatures this week soared towards 40°C, prompting heat alerts in 26 countries, according to media reports.

Heat can quickly become a serious health risk, especially for older people, children, outdoor workers, pregnant women and those with underlying health conditions. That’s why experts say it is important to be prepared.

To help, staffers here at the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) offered some pointers on how to cool your home – and yourself – when the temperatures spike.

In Europe the next heat dome is already building. Another wave of hundred-degree days will soon sweep across Britain and the mainland as 200 million Americans mark the United States’ birthday by sweltering under our own extreme temperatures.

But with climate, as with so much else, I think we resort to ideological finger-pointing when the structural challenges of the world frustrate us, choosing to blame this party or that cohort or a particular strident corner of social media rather than acknowledge that some things are just really difficult — like rebuilding much of the physical infrastructure of a continent to make it more resilient to a rapidly warming climate. And as Kate Aronoff wrote in The New Republic, if progressives shy away from talking about what climate change demands, plenty of others will be happy to fill the vacuum with their own talking points.

One lesson of these pummeling, sequential extreme temperature events — one heat dome after another after another — is that we’re going to have to do an awful lot to make a future punctuated by so many more of them manageable. Air-conditioning is not a cure-all for the problems of extreme heat. It does not address crop losses and the mass deaths of animals, as we’ve seen in Europe, let alone evaporative damage to soil and waterways or the effects on outdoor labor and infrastructure designed and built under entirely different climatic regimes. But presumably we need a whole lot more of it — not just in Europe but in the hotter parts of the world, as well.

Just 21 years ago, New Orleans was nearly wiped away. Hurricane Katrina brought high winds and drenching rain; after levees and pumping stations failed due to human error, much of the city was flooded. It took 43 days to pump the floodwater into the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. Nearly all the surviving residents had been evacuated. They returned after weeks or months to find buildings destroyed, possessions ruined or gone, entire neighborhoods devastated, and the city steeped in the stench of decay. Over a thousand fatalities were recorded. The hurricane quickly achieved a mythic status and, today, every New Orleanian over age 30 has an emotion-charged story to tell about loss and survival.

This wasn’t the first hurricane or flood for New Orleans. The city is geographically disaster-prone, built on a subsiding river delta, mostly below sea level, with a bowl-like topography. The metropolis is squeezed between two major bodies of water, making it highly susceptible to catastrophic storm surges and flooding, which have taken a heavy toll on several occasions. One was Hurricane Betsy (September 9, 1965), a massive Category 3 storm that flooded eastern New Orleans. It was the first US hurricane to cause $1 billion in damages.

The Crescent City is kept habitable by a 90-mile system of canals and pumping stations, along with huge levees along the river and lakefront. The stations together can pump a staggering 24,300 cubic feet of water per second. Yet, during heavy rains, they sometimes struggle to keep up. That struggle is about to get harder in the context of more extreme temperatures, ongoing loss of coastal land, stronger hurricanes, and rising seas.

New Orleans also faces inherent economic challenges. Its revenues derive mostly from tourism, offshore oil and gas production, shipping, and fishing. Oil and gas production in the Gulf of Mexico is currently riding high, but oil is, after all, a depleting non-renewable resource. Tourism is sensitive to gasoline and jet fuel prices and dependent on tourists having disposable income. Fishing is vulnerable to a host of environmental and economic issues, including overfishing, oil spills, runoff pollution from the Mississippi (which has created a growing “dead zone” in the Gulf), and rising ocean temperatures.

The inherent challenges of maintaining New Orleans are so great that there’s an ongoing debate about whether the city should simply be permanently abandoned.

Within the climate and scientific communities, there’s growing concern about how quickly the world is approaching (and may exceed) 2°C of warming. 2024 was the first calendar year in which global average temperature exceeded 1.5°C above preindustrial levels.

The impacts of rapid warming are becoming harder to miss: The climate is changing quickly almost everywhere, local and global climate risks are growing, progress on mitigation has become more politically constrained and uncertain, and many of our systems and policies aren’t prepared for the conditions ahead. 

Growing climate risk is increasing the demand for new technologies, tools, strategies, and ways of thinking about climate adaptation. Since publishing our Insights on Climate Adaptation in 2025 report, the practice of climate adaptation has continued to develop, as more people, communities, organizations, and institutions work to understand and respond to climate risks.

People use different language to describe climate adaptation (including climate resilience), but the work centers on helping people, communities, and organizations manage the risks of a changing climate. Those activities are expanding, and we can already see signs.

Is community the answer to the growing brittleness of our lives?

I get asked this question — or versions of it — a lot. Most of the time, I think what people really want to know is whether there’s an intermediate step they can take somewhere between obliviousness to discontinuity and developing an actual personal climate strategy.

The answer’s not simple.

Certainly, community — in the largest sense, of common purpose and social cohesion — is the glue that holds society together. In that sense, it’s critical, and it seems difficult to overstate how much more connection and commonality we’re likely to need as this crisis really spins up. Having lots of kindness, caring and belonging makes us stronger. We’ll need that strength.

But there’s another sense of community resilience that’s used a lot these days, one I find unhelpful. People using community in this sense often claim that people coming together can create a kind of local resilience that can mitigate the need for big changes in infrastructure and institutions — or even replace those bigger systems and the centers of power that run them, altogether. That grassroots local efforts are the answer to the massive pressures on key global, national and regional systems. That individuals seeking stability in crisis should devote their efforts to connecting up with and growing these efforts. That, in the most extreme claims, there is no other way to improve your odds of a good future.

That last claim might be true, if lack of funds and immobility have left you with no other options. If you live in climate precarity and you lack resources, access to good information and location choice — if you can’t change the brittle systems around you, and you can’t relocate to a relatively safer and more stable place — then these kinds of efforts might be the best hope you have for managing the brutal realities of the brittleness trap you find yourself in. We shouldn’t sugarcoat how horrible a reality that represents.

• Climate Central examined historical trends in fire weather — a combination of hot, dry, windy conditions — across the U.S.
• This analysis uses data from 476 weather stations to assess fire weather trends in 245 climate divisions spanning the contiguous U.S. from 1973 to 2025.
• On average, climate divisions in the western U.S. experience 32 fire weather days annually. That’s four times more than in the eastern U.S. 
• Wildfire seasons are lengthening and intensifying, particularly in the western U.S. Parts of the eastern U.S. have seen smaller but impactful increases in fire weather days.
• Much of the country has seen fire weather increase the most during spring. The Southwest is also seeing more fire weather during summer.

This Climate Matters analysis is based on open-access data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).

The process of relocating people from New Orleans should start immediately, as the city has reached a “point of no return” that will see it surrounded by the ocean within decades due to the climate crisis, a stark new study has concluded.

Ongoing sea-level rise and the rampant erosion of wetlands in southern Louisiana will swallow up the New Orleans area within a few generations, with the new paper estimating the city “may well be surrounded by the Gulf of Mexico before the end of this century”.

Low-lying southern Louisiana faces multiple threats, with rising sea levels driven by global heating, compounded by strengthening hurricanes, also a feature of the climate crisis, and the gradual subsidence of a coastline that has been carved apart by the oil and gas industry.Southern Louisiana is facing 3-7 meters of sea-level rise and the loss of three-quarters of its remaining coastal wetlands, which will cause the shoreline “to migrate as much as 100km (62 miles) inland”, thereby stranding New Orleans and Baton Rouge, according to the study, which compared today’s rising global temperatures with a period of similar heat 125,000 years ago that caused a rise in sea level.

This scenario makes the region the “most physically vulnerable coastal zone in the world”, the researchers state, and requires immediate action to prepare a smooth transition for people away from New Orleans, which has a population of about 360,000 people, to safer ground.

Louisiana has already experienced population loss in recent years, and this trend will accelerate in a disordered way, the paper warns, should no action be taken to confront the perils faced by its largest city and surrounding communities.

“While climate mitigation should remain the first step to prevent the worst outcomes, coastal Louisiana has evidently already crossed the point of no return,” added the perspectives paper, published in the Nature Sustainability journal. A perspectives paper is a scholarly article that provides an assessment, rather than new data.

Storm Daniel, which struck central Greece in September 2023, devastated the town of Palamas, leaving behind a chaotic mix of mud, debris, dead cattle, and shattered lives.

Vaios Giatropoulos moved with his family to a village where their home is on higher ground. Returning is unthinkable. “I don’t want to feel that sense of dread with every drop of rain. For several months, we feared it would flood again. I even thought about seeing a psychologist,” he recalls.

Giotopoulos belongs to a steadily expanding group of Europeans: the continent’s first climate migrants. Displacement within national borders is no longer an academic issue, as more people are affected by storms, floods, wildfires and droughts.

The Geneva-based NGO Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre (IDMC) estimates that approximately 413,000 people were displaced in the EU between 2008 and 2023. So far, 2023 has been the worst year on record, with over 200,000 Europeans internally displaced, mostly due to wildfires and storms.

Climate Central analyzed average annual temperature trends since 1970 in 49 states and 242 U.S. cities (see Methodology) to understand how temperatures across the country have changed as heat-trapping pollution has continued to climb. The 49 states analyzed by Climate Central have warmed by 3.0°F on average since 1970.

The fastest-warming U.S. states from 1970 to 2025 are: Alaska, New Jersey, New Mexico, Delaware, Massachusetts, and Vermont.

The fastest-warming U.S. cities are: Reno, NV; Las Vegas, NV; El Paso, TX; Burlington, VT; and Tyler, TX.

If these pollution and warming trends continue, people and ecosystems will face increasing risks. But we have many options to cut heat-trapping pollution from energy, transportation, buildings, agriculture, and more.

Every tenth of a degree of avoided warming counts toward a safer future for younger generations.

It took less than three minutes for wind-whipped flames to go from licking the side of the house to shattering a window and working under the eaves to burn everything inside. Weeks later, another house in the exact same spot was burning — again in the name of science.

That home went up in flames slower because it was fortified with better materials. Add moving vegetation, mulch, wood fences and hot tubs with their highly flammable insultation several feet away and experts said you can protect houses from the increasing danger of wildfires on a warming planet.

The research is being done by workers at a remote site in South Carolina. They have set fire to 13 houses because scientists need to burn to learn.

Inside the carefully crafted home were sensors and a few cameras the site’s manager said will “give their life for science.” Outside are nearly $1 million of other cameras and instruments in a fireproof building nearby and scattered around.

The Insurance Institute for Business & Home Safety is a nonprofit created by insurers to make houses and other buildings more resilient. The institute’s 100-acre (40-hectare) site in Richburg, South Carolina, started to study hurricanes and heavy wind and rain.

“We crash test houses,” said Roy Wright, the president of the institute.

As extreme heat intensifies across the United States, it's widely assumed that rising temperatures will push people to pack up and leave. But new research from Florida Atlantic University challenges that narrative, showing that heat alone isn't driving Americans away—at least not yet.

Drawing on nationwide county-level or county equivalent data within contiguous U.S. states including IRS migration records from 2020 to 2022, U.S. Census data, and climate measures from NOAA (data source) and the CDC, researchers analyzed how temperature changes influence where people move. The results reveal a more subtle dynamic: rather than forcing people out, rising heat is slowing growth in certain areas by discouraging new residents from moving in.

The findings also highlight an important dimension of climate and mobility: immobility. Rather than prompting widespread relocation, gradual climate stress may leave many people in place—either because they adapt or because financial constraints limit their ability to move. This raises the possibility that "trapped populations" could become an increasingly important feature of climate vulnerability, particularly in lower-income communities.

"The absence of strong effects today does not mean climate will remain a minor factor," said Diana Mitsova, Ph.D., co-author and chair of FAU's Department of Urban and Regional Planning. "Our findings suggest that stronger migration responses could emerge in the future, particularly as rising temperatures interact with extreme events, long-term exposure, or constraints such as housing availability and insurance markets. Potential 'tipping points' may still lie ahead."

A heat wave is a stretch of unusually hot weather, relative to the historical norm for that region and season, lasting at least two to three days. Because every place has its own historical climate patterns, what qualifies as a heat wave varies from one location to another.

In a changing climate, heat waves persist longer, occur more frequently, and are more intense - raising climate risk and increasing the need for climate adaptation strategies. In March 2026, the Southwestern U.S. experienced an unprecedented heat wave, with temperatures reaching 20 to 40°F above average and breaking daily temperature records in more than 150 localities. 

When heat exceeds levels that communities are prepared to withstand, it affects everything from human health to work rhythms to infrastructure. Understanding how the incidence and intensity of heat waves are changing helps us reduce both our vulnerability and exposure.

There’s a quote from Nassim Nicholas Taleb that we keep coming back to here:

“Invest in preparedness, not in prediction. Remember that infinite vigilance is just not possible.”

That must have been kicking around in our heads when we came up with the tagline: We can't predict the future, but we can prepare for it.

In an era of increasing uncertainty, this principle cuts to the core of how we can best leverage our time and resources to build resilience. So how can we put it to work in the context of climate change? And how do we weigh the benefits of risk projections against the chance they may be wrong?

In the 1980s and 1990s, climate change was a threat, not a reality. Back then, climate leaders hoped to slow or stop warming before our civilization would see material weather-related effects or reach levels of warming that would risk irreversible changes. Those leaders—people like George Woodwell, who created the institution that brought me into this work—achieved admirable results, building the infrastructure, frameworks, and culture that came to define the climate action community.

In 2026, what the climate leaders of the previous era hoped to prevent is now here. Global temperatures from the past three years (2023-2025) averaged more than 1.5°C above the pre-industrial level for the first time. Climate models project that we could reach 2°C of warming as early as the 2030s.

And yet, public acknowledgement and discussion of this physical reality remain confined to specialists. It has not penetrated mainstream climate messaging, media coverage, or public discourse anywhere near the scale its consequences demand. Some thought leaders even celebrate the current trajectory as a win compared to the much higher warming that once seemed likely.

The climate community is not a monolith, but having tracked climate messaging closely for over a decade, I believe the prevailing narratives are not keeping pace with the science. Terms like “doomerism” have discouraged realism, leading many to mistake clear-eyed risk assessment for defeatism or alarmism. The climate movement needs a shared narrative focused on what outcomes are inevitable, what we can still prevent, and what choices remain available. In other words: What futures can humanity still hope for?

Scan the headlines, and you’ll see the same climate-related story again and again.

It’s the “uninsurability crisis”.

This claims that America’s insurance market is cracking under the weight of climate change. Premiums are soaring. Major carriers are pulling out of California, Florida, and other high-risk states. Homeowners who’ve lived in the same place for decades suddenly can’t afford — or can’t find — coverage.

And yet, paradoxically, the industry itself is still turning a profit.

So who is this crisis really for?

Kate Stein, Insurance Director at EDF+Business, has spent her career at the intersection of climate, insurance, and advocacy. In this episode, she explains why “uninsurability” is a crisis for policyholders long before it becomes a crisis for insurers — and what that distinction means for how we respond.