On January 16th, 2024, New Yorkers awoke to a familiar sight. The previous evening, a low pressure system moving north from the Carolinas had graced the city with 1.7 inches of snow, coating rooftops, sidewalks, and tree branches in a thin veil of white. Nothing more than flurries, the snow would continue through the morning before switching to rain in the early afternoon. The white veil was gone as quickly as it had appeared, washed away into gutters and storm drains.
Still, this day was important, as it was the first time New York City received any significant snowfall in 701 days, which is nearly two years. A snowfall is considered significant when 1 inch or more accumulates in the span of a day, and during this record-breaking snowless streak, the Central Park Weather Station never reported anything more than a trace of snow. During the winter of 2022-23, the station counted a measly 2.3 inches, the lowest amount on record.
NYC’s snow drought wasn’t an isolated incident. It was part of a larger, concerning trend. The 2023-24 winter would bring in 7.5 inches—much more than the previous year, but still the 9th lowest on record. The 2024-25 season saw a bit more: scattered flurries from December through February totaled to 12.9 inches, bringing back memories of winters past. Still, the city received less than half its 25-year average of 29.8 inches.
This trend is not just happening here. Snowfall levels have been decreasing not only in New York but across the country and the world, and you can probably guess why. If you’ve read the news anytime over the past few decades, you’ve most likely heard about how climate change is heating up the Earth, leading to warmer winters and therefore less snow. NYC has warmed so much over the past few decades that its climate is now classified as “subtropical.” But what less people are aware of is that climate change can sometimes have the opposite effect. The phenomenon is sometimes referred to as global warming, and while it’s true that it is associated with an overall increase in temperatures, this term is misleading, as it ignores how weather will become more intense in a variety of ways. We have already started to experience stronger storms, drier droughts, bigger floods – and in some places, colder temperatures and more extreme winter weather.
As weather patterns deviate further from the norm, it’s becoming harder and harder to know what will happen each winter. For example, while snowfall is decreasing in New York, it’s also increasing in places where it was once rare. The American South, for instance, isn’t known for its snowy winters. Throughout much of the region, receiving even a single flake has historically been unheard of. However, things have changed over the past few years, and snow has become an annual occurrence in many southern states as climate change puts an end to the mild winters this part of the country is used to. If you read our February issue, you heard about the storm earlier this year that left parts of the South blanketed in snow. For those of us who were watching the storm through our phones, it seemed harmless, even beautiful. On social media, pictures circulated of snow-covered Gulf beaches; their turquoise blue waters strikingly juxtaposed with uninterrupted fields of white. Snow gently dusted the fronds of palm trees as children played by the surf, building snowmen instead of sandcastles.
Still, its effects were deadly. Nearly 10 inches of snow fell in Milton, FL (near Pensacola) and 8 in New Orleans, meaning that, at the time, both of these places had received more snow that winter than Chicago and New York. Louisiana saw its coldest winter in more than a century, and in the Rio Grande Valley, dangerously low temperatures were reported. At least 11 people were killed, including five that perished in a car accident on an icy road southwest of San Antonio.
This storm was a demonstration of just how bad things can get when cold, snow, and ice are dumped on a region that is unprepared to deal with the consequences. But it was far from the worst winter storm this region has seen in recent years. When contrasted with the blizzards of February 2021, for example, the 2025 storm pales in comparison. Nicknamed “Snowmageddon” and “The Great Texas Freeze,” the combined effects of near-zero temperatures and two back-to-back storm systems would bring widespread death and destruction to the South Central US.
Severe Winter Storm DR-4586-TX, also known as Winter Storm Uri, started out over the North Pacific on Saturday, February 13, 2021. It quickly moved towards land, claiming the lives of four people in Oregon before continuing on to the Rocky Mountains, where it shattered snowfall records in Boise and Salt Lake City. Heavy snow continued over the Southwest, and in Minnesota temperatures plummeted to a bone-chilling -38 ℉.
Meanwhile, Texas was bracing for the storm. A few days before on Wednesday, a cold front had set in, and the next day brought sleet and freezing rain to the northwestern portion of the state. Meteorologists sounded the alarm, issuing a winter weather advisory for several counties. By Sunday the 14th, a much more intense cold front had arrived, and the whole state was placed under a wind chill watch, a hard freeze watch, and a winter storm warning as Uri closed in. Snow, sleet, and freezing rain began to fall, intermingling with thunderstorms in some areas. Temperatures continued to drop across the state: 17 degrees in Houston, 8 in Austin, 5 in Dallas-Fort Worth. In Wichita Falls, a city near the border with Oklahoma, they dropped to -3 ℉.
As the storm moved into the Southeast, it sparked an outbreak of tornadoes, including an EF3 (the third highest classification) that killed three people in North Carolina. Uri continued on, dumping snow onto the Midwest and Northeast before eventually dissipating over the Atlantic. In Texas, precipitation and low temperatures lingered for several days as the second storm moved in. Unofficially named Winter Storm Viola, it arrived in the area on the 16th and it brought with it even more snow and ice. From February 14th-18th, San Antonio and Austin got approximately 6-8 inches of snow, and some areas in the southwest portion of the state received up to 18 (based on preliminary reports).
“No one could drive anywhere,” explained Patrick Gale, who was a high school sophomore in San Antonio at the time. “Everyone was pretty much stuck in their house, kind of like COVID for like four days, a little more than half a week.” He described how, without any running water, his family was forced to use snow instead. “Often what we’d have to do to shower or bathe was get a bucket of snow from outside, and have to heat that up then melt the snow down, and that’s the water you had to use.”
Patrick was one of millions who lost access to running water as pipes froze and burst. Still, he had it better than some. “Our power was on, we just didn’t have water,” he explained. “Some people had both power and water, some people didn’t have either, some people had one or the other.” Because he didn’t have to worry about freezing to death, he could enjoy the snow. “Obviously we got off of school, and that’s awesome because we never get snow days in Texas […] so we could finally make snowballs, get into a snowball fight with my friends, build a snowman, just a bunch of snow activities we never got to do and it was fun to finally do them.” He acknowledged that others weren’t as fortunate. “I had fun, cause we still had heat, so that was fine, but I know some of my friends who didn’t have heat didn’t have fun.”
On the night of February 15th, 2021, 4.5 million Americans were plunged into darkness as wind turbines, coal plants, and nuclear power plants shut down. While some were quick to point fingers at renewable energy, in reality it was the failure of natural gas plants that had the most devastating consequences. Texas operates on its own power grid that is separate from the rest of the US, and much of it is powered by natural gas. At the time, power plants in the state were not required to be winterized, and as a result natural gas production and transportation infrastructure froze as the plants lost electricity. People tried desperately to heat their homes, overloading the power grid. Demand spiked and so did prices. Unable to make a profit, some plants turned their own power off, while others were advised to shut down or face long term damage. The outages were not limited to Texas, and they followed the path of the storm up to West Virginia, with smaller blackouts scattered across the country from Oregon to Vermont. Millions in northern Mexico also lost power. People were left unable to cook or charge their phones, and most critically, without heat as temperatures dropped below freezing. The storms also severely disrupted the supply chain, interrupting the rollout of COVID-19 vaccines in several states.
The scale of the loss of life caused by this disaster is difficult to comprehend. There were 246 confirmed deaths in Texas, according to a report published by the Texas Department of State Health Services (DSHS). 161 (65.4%) of these deaths were from extreme cold exposure. These people died from hypothermia or frostbite; some of them in their homes because they didn’t have heat, some because they had ventured outside, and others because they were unhoused and didn’t have anywhere to go when the cold set in. Near Houston, 11-year-old Christian Pineda was found lifeless in his bed, frozen to death when his home lost power. In Abilene, 86-year-old Paulene Dearing collapsed after wandering out into the storm. The paramedics found her dead in her backyard, six feet away from the back door.
To avoid death by hypothermia, some used portable generators and space heaters, brought alternative heat sources into their homes such as grills and camp stoves, or sat in their idling cars. However, these all came with their own risk: carbon monoxide poisoning. Carbon monoxide, or CO, is a colorless and odorless gas that is produced by burning fuel, and is often deadly if you are exposed to it in an enclosed space. During power outages, carbon monoxide deaths skyrocket as people scramble to find heat and electricity, often resorting to one of the aforementioned sources. In addition, ice can clog the vents of gas-powered heating devices, further increasing risk. The DSHS report counted 19 fatal CO poisonings, accounting for 7.7% of the confirmed deaths. Among them was Mersha Etenesh Eteshu of Houston. Mersha was charging her phone in her car while on call with a friend when she reported feeling tired and stopped responding. Concerned, the friend called the police, but she didn’t know her address so it was hours before they arrived. When they finally did, they found Mersha dead along with her 7-year-old daughter Rakeb Shalemu. Her husband and son were unconscious but alive.
The DSHS report states that an additional 25 of the deaths (10.2%) were caused by “exacerbation of pre-existing illness.” This includes the deaths that resulted when outages threatened hospitals, when equipment required to sustain life froze or shut down, and when freezing temperatures damaged medication. In a Houston suburb, Julius Gonzales passed away during the early hours of February 16th, after power outages shut down the clinic where he was scheduled to go in for a dialysis appointment the previous day. Dialysis machines require both electricity filtered water to run, both of which were largely unavailable. Another ten died in house fires, some of which were ignited by haphazardly-placed space heaters. 22 deaths were the result of car accidents, and nine perished from falls (a category which also includes falling through ice and drowning).
And those are only the deaths that occurred in Texas. 30 more would be confirmed dead in other parts of the US and 14 in Mexico, bringing the total number of confirmed deaths to 290. Still, experts caution that this is likely a severe undercount. Researchers from Buzzfeed, for example, noticed a spike in deaths during the week of the storm that far exceeded the official toll. They conducted a statistical analysis which found that the actual number is likely around 700.
When asked if he felt his city was well prepared for the storm, Patrick responded with a strong “not at all.” “We had one snow plow for all of San Antonio, for, like, the mayor’s driveway,” he recalled. “That’s at least what my dad told me, […] I don’t know if he was joking or not.” It’s difficult to find sources that confirm or deny if San Antonio’s few snow-clearing resources were, in fact, reserved for the homes of city officials. Still, it’s evident that they had far from enough to go around. On Facebook, a video was posted showing Department of Transportation workers attempting to clear a snow-covered highway in the city’s West Side using front loaders. “We had no clue what we were doing, the city wasn’t prepared for it.”
And it wasn’t just San Antonio; the whole state was wildly unprepared. The power crisis that killed hundreds was in large part due to failures on behalf of the natural gas companies as well as state and local governments. Had power plants in Texas been required to be winterized, it would have stopped vital equipment from freezing over, saving countless lives. Had cities stocked up on generators and water trucks, the disastrous effects of the blackouts and water shortages could have been mitigated. Had the state invested in a larger fleet of snowplows, it would have prevented many of the deaths that resulted from car accidents and disruptions to emergency services. Communication was also a big issue. Local governments were criticized for failing to publish adequate information on how to prepare for the storm, and the information that was available was outdated and inaccessible to many. For example, in Austin – a city where 24.3% of the population speaks Spanish at home – it took about a day for authorities to translate announcements into this common language. This might not seem like a long time, but when the information being shared was as critical as boil-water notices and details on emergency shelters, it was the difference between life and death.
So maybe the deaths were preventable, and the governments and power companies could have done more to prepare. But can you blame them? How were they supposed to know that such a destructive blizzard would come to Texas, a state where winter temperatures rarely stray far from the 40s, 50s, and 60s?
The truth is that the warning signs were there, and scientists had been urging officials to prepare for the event of a large winter storm for years. Years earlier in 2011, another blizzard had ravaged Texas, causing widespread outages and highlighting how the state’s power grid was unprepared to deal with a large-scale blizzard. As previously mentioned, the Texas grid operates separately from the rest of the US, a move that was largely made to avoid federal regulation. However, after the 2011 storm, experts cautioned that more regulation might be necessary. Corporations such as ERCOT (the Energy Reliability Council of Texas, which operates most of the state’s power grid) could not be trusted to carry out expensive renovations on their own, even as scientists warned that climate change would make winter storms an increasingly dangerous threat. Still, state officials hesitated, reluctant to challenge these powerful conglomerates. Economists argue over who is to blame; the state government for not implementing regulations, or the companies for not taking steps on their own. Either way, it’s undeniable that both failed the people of Texas by ignoring the warnings and refusing to make necessary changes to the power grid.
Fortunately, the 2021 storms were a wake up call for many and state officials have gone on to make some reforms since then. New laws require power plants and natural gas facilities to be winterized, and in response energy providers have made changes so that they are better equipped to handle cold, ice, and snow. They are also branching out into renewable options. Still, some question if enough is being done. Experts say Texas’s natural gas industry needs even more regulation, and that the state should be working to connect its power grid more closely with neighboring ones. Over the past four years, the population of the Lone Star State has exploded, and, combined with the increased need for heating and air conditioning as both winter weather and summer heat intensify, it’s unclear whether the grid will be able to meet this new demand. While it has passed some recent tests, such as heat waves in 2022 that saw millions cranking up the AC, it has yet to prove itself against a disaster on the same scale as Uri and Viola.
The effectiveness of the governments’ and companies’ responses may be questionable, but the same cannot be said for the way Texas residents have reacted. Patrick described how, in his community, people are much more prepared to deal with cold weather and winter storms than they were a few years ago. “I definitely know people get more winter clothes now, like thicker puffers and stuff like that,” he explained. “People who had a power outage definitely got a backup generator after that, in case it would ever happen again.”
However, he questions if these shifts are a direct result of the 2021 storm, or if they’re because of the overall increase in snow Texas has experienced in recent years. “It’s also snowed a lot more commonly in Texas than when [the 2021 storms] happened, like it’s snowed once a year the past five years, and that didn’t really happen before […] I don’t know if the changes in how people act are because of the storm, or because of climate change.” Despite this, he doubts whether local governments are doing enough to prepare for the new normal of colder, snowier winters. “I don’t know if the city itself has gotten more plows, given out snow salt, but maybe more just a community change and how we’re used to it.”
As Patrick mentioned, the increase in snow that the South has seen in recent years is likely due to climate change. Each year, the severity of the winter weather we get in the US is dictated by an array of complex meteorological systems. Two of these systems, the polar vortex and the polar jet stream, play an especially important role when it comes to sending blasts of frigid, blizzard-causing winds our way. The polar vortex is a large, swirling mass of cold air that usually stays centered over the North Pole. Around it flows the polar jet stream, a current of wind that encircles the Arctic and traps in cold air. As long as both these systems are behaving normally, the polar vortex will remain firmly over the Arctic and up in the stratosphere (the second layer of the atmosphere which sits approximately 11-50 km above the surface of the Earth), keeping much of the contiguous US relatively mild during winter. However, when the polar vortex is disrupted (which usually happens every other year or so), it weakens, falling to the side or splitting into two vortexes that descend into the troposphere (the lowest layer of the atmosphere). The polar jet stream can also become disrupted, moving south and taking on a looser, more wavy shape. When this happens, warm air rushes north and cold air is forced south, bringing lower-than-average temperatures to the lower 48.
Recent research has suggested that climate change is partly responsible for disruptions to the polar vortex and jet stream. In September 2021, a study was published by Judah Cohen, the director of seasonal forecasting at Atmospheric and Environmental Research (a research company based in Massachusetts). The study found that the polar vortex has been weakening more often in recent decades than it used to. Cohen argues that this trend is directly tied to rising temperatures: his research suggests that melting ice in the Barents-Kara sea (north of Russia) is creating a bulge in the jet stream that in turn disrupts the polar vortex.
Some scientists disagree with Cohen’s research. They believe that the increase in disruptions to the polar vortex and jet stream is due to natural variation, not climate change. However, most agree that melting ice in the Arctic (a region that is warming twice as fast as the rest of the planet), will have an effect on weather patterns, to an extent that is not yet fully understood. Jennifer Francis, for example (a scientist at the Woodwell Climate Research Center), has conducted research that ties a weakened jet stream to a laundry list of problems, from extreme precipitation to droughts to heat waves and cold spells.
Regional comparisons
These past five years have been anything but normal when it comes to snowfall in the U.S. From the multi-year “snow droughts” in the Northeast to the deadly blizzards in the South, the long-established weather patterns we’ve come to expect are being replaced with less predictable, more dangerous extremes fueled by climate change. To track these changes, we can use the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA)’s database, which is a record of climate information recorded at hundreds of weather stations across the country. First, we have to find the average snowfall for one of these stations over the past five winters (the winter of 2020-21 up until the winter of 2024-25). Then, we have to subtract the station’s 25-year seasonal average from the 5-year average. The number we are left with represents how much this station’s average snowfall over the past five winters differed from its average over the past 25 winters. In other words, we are calculating how unusual this station’s snowfall was over the past five years, when compared to how much snow it normally gets.
This is far from a perfect study. Five years isn’t a long time, so a 5-year average isn’t always a good representation of long-term changes. Just one big storm is enough to throw off the average and obscure a trend. Also, April isn’t over as of the time of writing, so NOAA hasn’t published April snowfall totals yet and they weren’t included when counting how much snow each station got this winter. Still, when mapped out, these numbers can give us some sense of the changes that have been happening in recent years.
Southeast
Most of the Southeast saw a slight increase in snowfall levels over the past five winters. For many of these cities, the January 2025 storm was responsible for the increase. For example, the only time Pensacola saw measurable snow over the past five winters was in January 2025, when it received 8.9 inches. Most of these numbers are very small and therefore likely not meaningful. Cities in the far northern part of this region (for example Charleston, WV and Washington, DC) received less snow over the past five years than they are used to.
South Central
The South Central US exhibited a similar pattern as the Southeast, with most cities experiencing a slight increase. Fayetteville, AR saw the greatest increase with 4.5 inches. Del Rio, TX and New Orleans, LA also saw notable increases, with their averages for the past five years (2.72 and 2 inches respectively) being noticeably higher than their 25-year averages.
Northeast
Most of the cities in the Northeast saw much less snow over the past five years than what they are used to. Portland, ME saw the greatest decrease (19.5 inches). Towards the Southern half of the region, cities saw a smaller decrease, with Pittsburgh, PA, Baltimore, MD, and Atlantic City, NJ all experiencing a decrease of less than 10 inches. Buffalo, NY also broke the trend with a decrease of only 3.7 inches, and Watertown, NY was the only city in the region that saw an increase in snowfall.
Midwest
The Midwest exhibits a similar pattern as the Northeast, with most of its cities showing a decrease in snowfall. In general, the decreases were smaller than those seen in the Northeast, but like in the Northeast, the decreases generally get larger the further north you go. Dodge City, KS was the only city in the region that had more snow than usual, with a very slight increase of 1.2 inches.
West
The West didn’t show a clear pattern. A few cities experienced a decrease, such as Grand Junction, CO, Billings, MT, Spokane, WA, and Salt Lake City, UT (-3.1, -3.6, -3.7, and -6.3 inches respectively). Other cities experienced an increase, including Denver, CO, Riverton, WY, Boise, ID, and Flagstaff, AZ (2.7, 4.8, 5.5, and 9.9 inches respectively). All cities in Alaska experienced greater than usual snowfall levels, with Fairbank’s +15.2 inches representing the greatest increase in the region.
Many of the patterns seen here are the result of climate change. Warming temperatures in the Northeast have led to a greater proportion of precipitation falling as rain rather than snow, resulting in the decreased snowfall levels we observed. The Midwest has also seen an increase in the proportion of precipitation falling as rain, indicating that higher temperatures are having an effect there, too. More statistically sound studies than ours found that snowfall levels are actually decreasing across much of the Western US, also as a result of climate change.
The relatively small increases and decreases seen in the Southeast and South Central US could be because, while these places are starting to see more snowstorms, they still don’t get snow very often, so their average snowfall over the past five years was still pretty low. This was especially true in South Texas and the Gulf Coast. The vast majority of the snow these areas saw over the past five years was during the 2021 and 2025 storms. They saw very little snow the other years, which dragged their averages down a lot.
Surprisingly, climate change is actually leading to an increase in snow in some parts of the Great Lakes region. This is because of the lake effect, which is when cold air moves over unfrozen water in the Great Lakes, gathering warmth and moisture into the lowest part of the atmosphere and forming narrow bands of clouds that release huge amounts of snow extremely quickly. For this to happen, it’s important that much of the surface of the Great Lakes is unfrozen. Warmer winters mean that there is less ice on the lakes and for a shorter period of time, leading to an increase in lake effect snow. This could be why Buffalo saw a smaller decrease in snowfall than the rest of the Northeast, and why Watertown saw a slight increase.
As these new patterns intensify over the next few decades, they will continue to impact lives across the country. In the West, decreasing snowfall means that snowpack levels are dwindling at a concerning rate. Snowpack forms when multiple layers of snow accumulate on mountaintops, compacting each other down into a hard, frozen mass that stays frozen for several months. The annual melting of the snowpack, or snowmelt, is extremely important in the Western US. It provides 75% of the region’s drinking water, and it is also crucial for irrigation as well as plant and animal life. Because of climate change, the snowmelt is smaller and happens earlier each year. When the snowmelt happens too early, it disrupts the spawning cycle of fish, increases wildfire risk, and harms agriculture because it is no longer aligned with the growing season of crops. Decreasing snow levels will also negatively impact tourism in parts of the West, Midwest, and Northeast. In many towns, snowsports such as skiing, snowboarding, and snowmobiling attract hordes of tourists each winter, fueling the local economy. But without the snow, the tourists, and the revenue they generate, are gone.
Meanwhile in the South, winter storms will likely continue to claim lives and cause damage over the next few years. Residents are adapting and local governments are slowly implementing changes, but it could be years before they are fully acclimated to deal with this still relatively new threat. And, as is the case everywhere, this region will face a myriad of other climate-related problems as well.
Low-lying coastal areas, home to heavily populated cities like New Orleans, Miami, Tampa, and Charleston, could be submerged under rising sea levels. Summer heat waves have already started to worsen. Tornadoes are also becoming an increasingly serious threat in the South. Tornado Alley, a tornado hotspot historically centered around Oklahoma, has been shifting east towards Tennessee, Kentucky, and Mississippi in recent years. Just this March, a severe storm sparked 14 tornadoes in the Mid Mississippi Valley region, killing 7 people and injuring 12 more. This shift is a consequence of climate change. As the Gulf of Mexico warms, large amounts of water vapor are pushed into the Southeastern US, creating more supercells (a specific type of thunderstorm that is responsible for most tornadoes).
Additionally, as temperatures rise, already dangerous hurricanes will intensify. Fueled by warmer waters, tropical cyclones are becoming more destructive and unpredictable, penetrating further inland into areas previously thought to be safe from their effects. Last fall, we saw this with Hurricane Helene, a category 4 storm that killed hundreds in Appalachia. It brought with it an unprecedented amount of rain, and the record-breaking deluges sparked widespread, catastrophic floods. Rivers burst their banks and entire towns were wiped off the map. The geography of the region is what made this storm particularly deadly. Torrents of mud and water were forced down narrow gullies, tearing through remote communities tucked away deep in the mountains. Seven months later, many of the impacted areas have not recovered.
Here in New York, hurricanes are also one of the biggest climate-related threats we are facing. According to the NY State Climate Assessment, the tropical cyclones that arrive on our shores might not actually increase in number, but instead, they will be stronger and more severe than ever before. Warmer ocean temperatures mean that storms can maintain intensity as they travel north, instead of dwindling away and becoming harmless, as most often happened in the past. We saw this firsthand in October of 2012 with the infamous Hurricane Sandy. The hurricane had been downgraded into a post-tropical cyclone by the time it made landfall near Atlantic City, but the damage was still catastrophic: 72 people died in the US as storm surges decimated coastal areas across the Northeast, and an additional 72 deaths were recorded in the Caribbean, as well as 2 at sea and 1 in Canada. In New York City, the storm surges were almost 14 feet tall. Subway tunnels and homes were inundated, millions lost power, $19 billion in damages were caused, and 44 New Yorkers tragically lost their lives. Shortly before Sandy, there was Hurricane Irene and Tropical Storm Lee in 2011. This decade, the most notable storm has been Hurricane Ida in 2021, which killed 13 people in NYC. Many of those killed were trapped in basement apartments, unable to escape the flooding.
While this article has focused on the United States, storms on the same level as Sandy, Helene, Uri, and Viola will become the norm globally as climate patterns intensify worldwide. In fact, it’s the small, developing countries that have contributed the least to climate change that will be impacted the most. For example, while hurricanes are now a threat in an increasingly large portion of the US, they are still much more devastating for low-lying islands in the Caribbean. These places have historically faced storms much more severe than ours that are getting worse every year, and they have far less resources than us to deal with them.
All of the disasters mentioned in this article highlight the unpredictability of climate change. Just a few decades ago, it would have been almost unthinkable that Texas would see a winter storm on the scale of those seen in 2021. Even more unthinkable would have been the idea that snowstorms would become an annual occurrence across the Southeast. Just a few years ago, no one would have expected that a hurricane like Helene would penetrate so far inland, decimating areas previously thought to be safe from the effects of climate change. Asheville, NC, was hit hard by the storm, and dozens were killed as floods tore through its streets. But before Helene, Asheville had been advertised as a “climate haven.” The city is located in southern Appalachia, a region that many believed would fare better than the rest of the country, spared from rising sea levels, dangerous heat, and destructive natural disasters. As more and more Americans woke up to the immediate danger climate change posed, they researched where they should go. Some packed their things and moved to Asheville. Among them was Mary Ann Roser, who moved there from Austin with her husband four months before Helene as a self-proclaimed “climate refugee”, fleeing the city’s increasingly extreme weather. But, as she came to realize, “there’s no outrunning climate change.” “It’s a global phenomenon,” she said in an interview with NPR shortly after the storm. “And, you know, I guess it was our turn.” For all of us, the unthinkable is now our reality. We can no longer say with certainty what climate change will bring next, or where it will happen.
While these examples highlight the unpredictability of climate change, before each disaster, the warning signs were there. In Texas, lawmakers and power companies ignored scientists in the wake of the 2011 storm. Their constituents and customers paid the ultimate price. The same year, the NYC city government failed to make adequate changes even after the two back-to-back storms of Irene and Lee. Just over a year later, Sandy would come along, the ultimate consequence for their inaction. Even after Sandy, they haven’t done enough to protect our city from flooding and storm surge, which resulted in avoidable deaths during Hurricane Ida. As was stated before, there’s no way to predict all or even most of the effects of climate change. But when we are given signs, it’s far too risky t0 ignore them. We are past the point where, after every catastrophe, we can drag our feet and write it off as a “once in a century” incident. These are not isolated incidents. These disasters don’t just happen once in a century anymore. They are happening everywhere at least once a decade, and soon once every year, and after that, once every few months.
A commonly used talking point when arguing against immediate climate action is that there won’t be any consequences in the near future. Yes, maybe our grandchildren will have a problem when New York City goes underwater in 2100, but why should we care if it’s not affecting us? As we’ve seen in this article, that idea could not be further from the truth. People are already being injured, killed and displaced every year by a problem that many, especially government officials and corporation owners, choose to ignore. But climate change isn’t something that we can choose to ignore forever. Sooner or later, the power will go out, the cold will set in or the heat will become unbearable, the storm will arrive at our doorstep, and we’ll be forced to pay attention.
