The United Nations made reducing carbon emissions a global priority thirty years ago. In 1992, 154 nations at the first UN Earth Summit agreed: the key to curbing catastrophic global warming was reducing CO2 emissions. At the time carbon in the atmosphere was around 360 parts per million (ppm).
Since then, things have not gone according to plan.
The World Meteorological Organization (WMO) just reported that in 2024 we hit 424 ppm. The amount of CO2 in the atmosphere has actually increased 18% since the UN made reducing it a priority.
Even worse, 2024's increase from the previous year was the largest increase in CO2 ppm since modern measurements started in 1957. So it's not only growing, it's growing historically fast.
We know the reasons. You're sick of hearing them. Burning coal, oil and gas, along with increased wildfires around the globe. The result? Global temperatures have, on average, risen 0.8 degrees Fahrenheit. Now, a skeptic might say this is something we can endure, that maybe it's not so bad. And if it ever does get to catastrophic levels (considered an increase of 2.7 degrees Fahrenheit), we won't be around to suffer. It's a cynical view, but there it is.
Except a study published this year from the University of Colorado Boulder revealed there's an ancient danger frozen in the Alaskan permafrost that could trigger our climate disaster a whole lot sooner.
The research was conducted in Alaska's ancient ice -- permafrost frozen and untouched for over 40,000 years. To access the permafrost, researchers began in the Permafrost Tunnel operated by the U.S. Army. Then they tunneled 83 meters, where, incredibly, microbes frozen during the Pleistocene era are in suspended animation.
The microbes were emplaced in permafrost at the time of initial freezing and have persisted at sub-zero temperatures through low-energy maintenance and repair, existing in a state of dormancy that defies our typical understanding of life.
The research team verified that these aren't just dead cellular remains--they're living organisms in a state of extreme dormancy. While buried and frozen, permafrost-hosted microorganisms exhibit low levels of metabolic activity, made possible by trace amounts of liquid water in interstitial spaces.
The question scientists had was, what happens to these microbes if and when the permafrost thaws? To find out, they needed to simulate the coming thaw in a laboratory setting.
The team drilled horizontal cores of frozen soil from the permafrost, keeping the cores frozen during transport to their lab. To track microbial revival, they used water enriched with deuterium (a heavy isotope of hydrogen) which let them see whether microbes used that water to build new cell membranes -- whether they would survive. Turns out, the did more than survive -- they grew.
At first the change was very slow -- but it did happen. The microbes replaced about 1 in every 100,000 cells per day initially. But after about six months, major jumps began. The scientists noticed that the mix of microbes changed and slimy layers of living cells began to form -- clear signs the ancient microbes had come back to life and were active again.
The researchers found that when permafrost thaws, water becomes remobilized, liberating both microorganisms and the organic matter they feed upon. The microbes don't die--they wake up. In surface permafrost, microbial life resumes fairly quickly after thaw. In deep, ancient permafrost, the awakening is slower, but it still happens. Within six months, previously dormant organisms become dominant members of a revitalized ecosystem.
And when these microbes awake, their activity -- specifically their feeding of organic material in the permafrost -- has terrifying implications for the speed of climate change. Because this activity generates CO2 in quantities we are not prepared to absorb.
It would be catastrophic for our climate. When the microbes actively degrade the organic carbon accumulated in permafrost over millennia, it gets converted into greenhouse gases. The research confirmed that thawed permafrost produces both CO2 and methane as these ancient microbes feed on the newly available organic matter.
So how much carbon is in that permafrost, that would now be freed into the atmosphere? No less than twice the amount already in our atmosphere, already considered at crisis levels. The thing is, there is a lot of permafrost. It makes up over 80% of Alaska's surface area, and extends to depths exceeding 10 meters, with some continuous permafrost regions reaching staggering depths of over 660 meters. As human activity continues to raise temperatures, the frozen ground will start melting deeper and deeper below the surface.
Suddenly we're not just fighting the carbon we emit today. We're racing against the slow awakening of prehistoric microbes hungry and ready to feast. And their activity will result in the release of massive carbon stores, in the form of atmospheric greenhouse gases
All that needs to trigger the disaster is for the permafrost to melt away.
And with CO2 emissions rising faster than ever, we seemed determined to make that happen.