You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
The industry is not doubling down on the future of fossil fuels. Far from it.

The oil industry is not telling a credible story about its own future. Far from doubling down on the future of oil — as they’d have us believe — and as climate action advocates fear – the most powerful oil producers are planning for obsolescence, but they’re hoping to do it on their own, lucrative, terms.
The end of more than a century of growth in oil use is almost here, but it’s not straightforward.
One of the world’s leading forecasters of energy trends is now emphatic that the amount of oil, gas, and coal used around the world each day will begin to taper off within a few years. According to the International Energy Agency, global oil consumption, currently just over 100 million barrels per day, will peak later this decade at around 102 milllion barrels per day even without any new climate policy measures. We are at “the beginning of the end of the era of fossil fuels,” IEA chief Fatih Birol wrote in September.
None of this is adequate to stay within safe climate limits, but it’s hard to overstate what it means for the oil industry, which has enjoyed almost uninterrupted growth for its 150-odd-year existence.
Oil producers vigorously pushed back on the IEA’s outlook. OPEC+, the oil producers’ cartel, accused the agency of being “ideologically driven.” Chief executives of Exxon and state-controlled Saudi Aramco insisted that demand will continue to grow for decades to come.
But while the biggest and most successful oil producers rail against the IEA’s forecast, hinting that the agency is some kind of woke climate activist, their own actions tell a different story. Oil producers know that their industry is on the cusp of an inexorable decline, and they are preparing for it.
That might seem counter-intuitive given the spate of merger and acquisition news this fall. Last month Exxon made an $65 billion bid for Pioneer Natural Resources, which owns a swathe of Permian shale, and a couple of weeks later Chevron offered $53 billion for Hess Corporation, which includes a chunk of deepwater oil fields off Guyana. “Fossil fuels aren’t going anywhere,” declared The New York Times after the Exxon-Pioneer announcement. Like many other stories, the Times’ article pointed out that Exxon is choosing to invest in more oil, but not renewable energy. Earlier this year Shell cut its target for renewable energy growth. It looks like another vote in favor of oil’s strong future.
But neither the oil industry’s protestations, nor the big U.S. acquisitions, nor the lack of enthusiasm for green investments by oil majors, tells us that oil’s rise will continue for decades. In fact some of these developments point in the opposite direction.
Let’s start with the acquisitions. They’re certainly big; Exxon is preparing to buy Pioneer for shares equivalent to a sixth of Exxon’s own market capitalization; and Chevron’s Hess acquisition is of similarly huge proportions. Big corporate takeovers, however, do not indicate a growing industry. In boom years anyone can raise capital; when things get tough it’s time for “consolidation” because only companies with scale can survive.
To understand how these deals are conservative bets on the future of oil, look at what in the commodities world is called the "production cost curve” — a way of analyzing the financial logic of anything that’s mined or pumped out of the ground.
The curve shows total oil production capacity, ranked horizontally from the cheapest to the most expensive to extract. (The colored dots represent different International Energy Agency scenarios, with the first more climate-aligned and the last being simply “business as usual,” but they’re not particularly important for our purposes.)
The oil industry consists of a panoply of producers, each owning assets with different geological features, chemical compositions, and financial flexibility that put them on different parts of the curve.
Now, the greater the world’s total oil consumption, the more likely it is that prices will be high enough that those at the highest end of the production cost curve — everyone on the steep incline on the curve’s right — can still make money.
But while prices for oil are currently high, the acquisitions are not counting on them remaining so. Wood Mackenzie noted that Chevron’s Guyana fields would have “highly competitive breakeven costs.” Another energy consultancy, Rystad, pointed out that Exxon-Pioneer would have the lowest breakeven costs of any Permian producer; whereas previously they’d only rank second and fourth, respectively. In other words, Chevron and Exxon are rationally trying to position themselves on the left-hand side of the curve — the safe demand zone — where they hope to outlast competitors whose breakeven costs per barrel are too high to survive a world weaning itself off oil.
So the beginning of the end of oil doesn’t mean game over for Exxon, Chevron, or Saudi Aramco – if they play their cards right. Some oil will be sold for the next couple of decades at least. The trajectory down, however, is unprecedented, and it’s not clear that even the canniest producers won’t get caught out by the speed of transition to electric vehicles, for example.
But what about backing away from green energy? If fossil fuels’ heyday is over, surely everyone should pile into the next big thing?
Not necessarily. Consider where their money comes from. Big oil companies like Exxon and Chevron have plenty of cash, but they have to keep shareholders happy. Those investors are in those companies for various reasons; but one reason some of them actively choose it is for its specific characteristics: long capital-intensive investment cycles and high profits when things go well.
Green energy investments are different. The rates of return can be lower, but risks are also lower, particularly over a longer time horizon.
In fact it’s a conventional tenet of investing that if companies see their entire industry shrinking, they should not necessarily pivot into a new sector that is replacing it. The principles of “shareholder value,” for example, holds that companies should return cash to shareholders if there are no credible investment opportunities, so they can divert that money into new sectors.
That’s exactly what those massive share buyback programs are doing. The world’s biggest oil companies ramped up purchases of their own shares — which returns cash to investors — to the value of more than $135 billion last year, according to investment manager Janus Henderson; Bloomberg estimates it was a more than 10-fold increase on the previous year and many U.S. and European majors are extending or expanding their buybacks this year.
The buybacks, as much as they might be a repellent illustration of windfall profits arising from wars, are being conducted instead of investing in more upstream investment. Of course, this logic doesn't align with the much-repeated idea that “oil companies will have to be involved in the transition,” but neither do the actions of oil companies.
Finally, it pays to question the messenger. It would not be in oil companies’ interests to say out loud that demand is peaking soon, even if they and their investors all know it.
Imagine if Exxon or OPEC+'s secretariat said “yes, oil demand is probably close to peaking; it might plateau for awhile but the era of growth is over.” Money would flow out of the sector. Smaller, more expensive producers would stop investing in finding and producing more oil, which would lead to more volatile price spikes, driving the world to switch to clean energy even faster (JP Morgan says the recent high prices has already provoked “demand destruction” — in part explaining why prices haven’t spiked as much as recent world events might suggest.) Governments and other companies might even step up efforts to cut their dependency on oil. It would become a self-fulfilling prophecy with challenging implications for countries and companies whose existence is based on pumping oil and gas.
OPEC is typically optimistic about oil demand in its own publications. It predicted back in 2006 that oil demand in 2025 would be 113 million barrels per day — a number that’s 10 million above what has ever been reached. (It’s now forecasting that oil demand will reach a similar level — 116 million/day — only 20 years later, in 2045.) But OPEC, and particularly its most powerful member Saudi Arabia, has long been quietly anxious about demand destruction. With the IEA saying recent prices suggest that is already happening now, thanks to the rise of electric vehicles, OPEC has further reason to keep their fretting private.
Oil producers are — again, rationally — planning to extract the last bit of profits from a declining sector, while hoping that energy users everywhere remain dependent upon a volatile, expensive, and polluting – but very profitable – energy source. If newer sovereign producers try to get into the game late (such as Barbados, Senegal, and Mozambique) they might well get caught out by the shrinking oil market. That would leave the cheaper and better-capitalized producers — Gulf countries, or the U.S. majors — to continue selling at a comfortable profit, albeit slightly lower than they’d receive in the pre-peak era.
The oil majors are settling in for a long, comfortable decline.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
We didn’t know days like this could happen. Then we learned how bad they really are.
When I woke up this morning in Chicago, the Air Quality Index was in the 300s, and I could barely see the top of the skyscraper across the street. The weather app on my phone featured a little image of a man wearing a World War I-style full-face gas mask. That’s fun, I thought. I didn’t know it could do that.
I went downstairs. Old photographs of the city were hanging in the hotel lobby — girls playing in bathing suits next to the lake — and I realized that the haze shrouding the old Lakeshore Drive condos was in fact haze, smoke, particulate matter, and not a lens artifact. It really used to be that smoky all the time, back before the Clean Air Act. Then I glanced up and saw that the haze out the window was far worse than the century-old pollution in the picture.
It’s significant, I think, that a mass smoke-out like this has now happened to the eastern U.S. for a second time. Second times matter. When exhaust from Canadian wildfires blanketed the Northeast and parts of the Midwest in June 2023, exposing more Americans to wildfire smoke than on any previous day in history, one could almost write it off as a freak occurrence. It was upsetting, sure, and reminiscent of California’s climate-addled amber skies. But didn’t wildfire smoke also descend on New England once in the 1780s? Even on a warmer planet, couldn’t this remain a once-in-a-century blip?
Twice in just over three years, though — that‘s more than a hiccup. That’s almost a trend. To get smoked out once may be regarded as a misfortune; for it to recur again, without any plan to respond, starts to look like carelessness. The federal government is doing roughly diddly squat about adaptation — President Trump can build a fan on the border and make Canada pay for it — but state and local governments across the eastern U.S. will now need to reckon with a new form of extreme weather. You grew up with snow days, but now we’ll have smoke days — and schools and sports leagues and concert venues will need rules about how to deal with them. When should games be canceled, tickets refunded? Is smoke more like a heat wave or a hurricane? Hotels and office buildings will need to review their ventilation policies and possibly upgrade their equipment; municipal emergency response plans will be revised and printed in triplicate.
All this will happen because the smoke has invaded a second time — and arguably a third, if you count last year’s minor episode — and that means it could come back again. For that reason, this event strikes me as a much bigger deal than what happened in 2023. The smoke is now a fact of life; institutions will need a policy about it. The tortious creep of litigation risk will enforce that outcome, even if no federal official enforces it.
So it goes. But to be clear, this new inconvenience is not what worries me most about today’s events. No, what frightens me instead is that today’s airborne toxic event is not something that was supposed to happen. Until a few years ago, we had not thought too hard about whether a major smoke exposure event like this could happen on the East Coast at all. It had not seemed possible.
For years, economists and climate scientists have simulated how global warming might affect the U.S. and global economies. They poured years of careful work into this modeling, and they simulated — with ever-increasing levels of statistical persnicketiness — what extreme heat and sea-level rise might do to agricultural yield, labor productivity, energy demand, heat mortality, and real estate values, among other potential sources of damage. This work was useful; it improved our practical understanding of coastal flooding, to name one example. It also helped calibrate U.S. regulatory policy, even if it never achieved the crowning heights of helping to set a national carbon tax.
Yet these careful models almost never accounted for mass smoke exposure days. Indeed, the kind of thing that happened this week — when heavy haze blows down from Canada and exposes more than 100 million people to hazardous air — was not countenanced by the simulations at all. Only in recent years did economists begin to study events like these, and only because mass exposure events like 2023’s happened first.
We’ve long known that the tiny shreds of particulate matter in wildfire smoke dance across the body’s barriers and penetrate its deep places, etching their way into lung, heart, and brain tissue. Inflammation follows. What makes days like today unique is the scale: Tens of millions of Americans inhaling wildfire smoke at the same time. As we’ve started studying this phenomenon, it’s become clear that the mortality effects of days like today, the deaths elevated above what you’d otherwise expect, can persist for years. That becomes extraordinarily expensive for society.
How costly? “When monetized,” a group of Stanford and Princeton economists wrote in Nature last year, in the first major study on the topic, “the climate-driven smoke deaths result in economic damages that exceed existing estimates of climate-driven damages from all other causes combined in the U.S.A.”
You read that right: The cost of climate-worsened wildfire smoke alone is larger than what earlier studies said every other estimated cost of climate change would be, combined.
To summarize, wildfire smoke did not appear in our economic simulations of climate change. As recently as a few years ago, we did not really know that days like today — or June 7, 2023; or September 15, 2020; or September 9, 2020 — could occur. Then they happened. And happened again. And then we studied them and discovered that, in fact, they may be more expensive for the U.S. economy than we once thought climate change itself would be.
That worries me. Now we know these smoke-out days can happen; now they are fast becoming a rare but predictable feature of summer life. But until recently they were unimaginable. What other ignominies, what other tail risks and airborne surprises, are lurking in the uncontrolled experiment we’re running on the biosphere? What else — unforecast, unmodeled, unstudied, unthought of — lies ahead? After 10 years of covering the climate system, I am not someone who lies sleepless fretting about atmospheric CO2. But I do wonder what else we don’t know enough about to ask.
“Microsoft, you can’t hide, we can see your dirty side!”
Protestors interrupted one of the final sessions of PNW Climate Week — a conference that brings together climate leaders across Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia — objecting to Microsoft’s rising carbon emissions from data centers and partnerships with oil and gas companies. The company’s Chief Sustainability Officer Melanie Nakagawa was having a one on one conversation with GeekWire climate reporter Lisa Stiffler at Seattle’s City Hall when protestors carrying signs reading “Microsoft’s AI pollutes” and other slogans began shouting from the audience.
I was there, having just moderated the prior panel on how to finance Washington’s clean energy ambitions. Early on there were some rumblings in the crowd from up front. “Climate leaders don’t build gas pipelines in Moses Lake,” was the first objection I heard clearly. It came shortly after Nakagawa kicked off the conversation by highlighting Microsoft’s partnership with sustainable aviation fuel startup Twelve, which recently opened its first commercial-scale SAF plant in Moses Lake, Washington. The tech giant has supported the project through a strategic investment from its Climate Innovation Fund, as well as an offtake agreement for the fuel that will help offset its emissions from employee travel.
Whether Microsoft is building a gas pipeline in this particular community I haven’t been able to determine, though it seems irrelevant to Twelve’s SAF facility, which doesn’t rely on natural gas. But it is true that Microsoft is one of the largest power consumers in Grant County, Washington, home to Moses Lake, where a natural gas pipeline operator is looking to expand its network to accommodate data center load growth.
Another audience interruption was more pointed. “How does signing a 20-year deal with Chevron help you reach your clean energy goals?,” one protestor asked, referring to Microsoft's recently announced power purchase agreement with Chevron for nearly 2.7 gigawatts of natural gas-fired power to supply a West Texas data center. The project represents one of the largest gas-powered artificial intelligence developments in the U.S., and Stiffler acknowledged that she had been planning to ask about it, herself.
Nakagawa answered the question. at least in part, saying “that project with Chevron is initially using natural gas and it’s a natural gas contract,” before emphasizing that the company has built “over 4.5 gigawatts of clean energy already today,” and remains committed to balancing speed-to-power with its clean energy goals. She added that, “with this deal in particular, we’re looking at a range of tools in our toolbox to ensure that we can continue to grow our power, but also do so in a way that is responsible and sustainable.” She stopped short, however, of making any commitments to transitioning the project to renewable energy over time.
The session became more chaotic from there. Another protestor stood up, shouting that “Microsoft is enabling genocide in Palestine.” Other activists joined in, while still other audience members shouted back. As Nakagawa recovered and resumed answering a question from Stiffler about Microsoft’s recent decision to pause its carbon removal purchases after years of dominating the nascent industry, protestors throughout the crowd began a chant of “Microsoft, you can’t hide, we can see your dirty side.” Security eventually shepherded many of them out.
Stiffler continued speaking with Nakawaga about the company’s clean energy efforts, touching on many of the protestors’ concerns as she asked about community opposition to data centers, the role of large corporations in the clean energy transition, and whether Microsoft can realistically achieve its goal of becoming carbon negative by 2030.
Nakawaga emphasized that the company must, “first and foremost, listen to where the communities are and what they are calling for.” Regarding the concerns she hears most often, she explained that “first has been transparency. Second has been around resource uses and what are we doing about those resource uses. We’re hearing about jobs and employment and investments in education, investments in housing.”
If this session was any indication, those concerns won’t go away anytime soon.
Heat kills more Americans than any other extreme weather event in the United States. But wildfire smoke — while not strictly “weather” — appears to kill even more. Current excess death estimates put American heat mortality at about 10,000 people per year, or possibly as high as 12,000. Recent studies on wildfire PM 2.5 exposure suggest a mortality of double that: 24,000 all-cause deaths every year.
Needless to say, wildfire smoke is definitely not something you want to inhale if you can avoid it. (And really, you should try to.) But for the 115 million Americans in the Great Lakes and Northeast regions of the country who’ve been exposed to hazardous air from the fires in Ontario and Minnesota this week, there’s a chance that the damage is already done. According to a wildfire smoke mortality estimation tool from Cornell University’s School of Public Health and the Northeast Regional Climate Center, the total mortality for this smoke event could already be as high as 424 people so far, including nearly 100 in Michigan and more than 50 in both New York and Wisconsin.
Alistair Hayden, an assistant professor of practice in Cornell’s Department of Public and Ecosystem Health, stressed to me that the tool is a “first draft,” and that his team is still working on getting it peer-reviewed. “We intend it as a hypothesis that people can test in the coming weeks or months to confirm our numbers,” Hayden told me. “I’m really hoping to be proven wrong.”
But Hayden also emphasized that while the West Coast might historically be where many smoke-related deaths have occurred, “this is the third out of four years [in the Northeast] that we’re having the smoke, so it seems like something we should be planning for,” he said. “It reminds me of that saying: ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’”
Admittedly, the smoke this week is a bit of a freak occurrence. A cooler-than-average sea surface pattern across the North Pacific, known as a negative phase of the Pacific Decadal Oscillation, helped produce weak low-pressure areas in the northwestern part of the United States, which in turn allowed for heat domes to develop across the Southwest and Plains. After one did just that earlier this month, the hot, high-pressure dome then shifted north, where it developed “dryness across Canada, followed by the lightning-producing thunderstorms,” Chad Merrill, a senior meteorologist at AccuWeather, told me. Then, boom: widespread fires.
“It is very unusual to have a combination of an El Niño and a negative phase of the Pacific Decadal Oscillation,” Merrill went on. “That’s one of the unusual factors this year, which contributed to the heat dome being farther north in that particular position.” The heat dome and jet stream then worked together to direct the thick smoke down into some of the most populous regions of Canada and the U.S.
That’s what makes this particular smoke event so bad. Were the smoke blowing over remote regions of Canada, as it would under more usual conditions, “then the big cities and the Great Lakes wouldn’t experience the smoke; it would have gone north toward the Hudson Bay and then Greenland,” Merrill said. In fact, the Canadian fire season is tracking below average overall; it’s the meteorological conditions that made this week’s smoke events, as one outlet put it, “the perfect storm.”
Wildfire smoke in the region is not historically anomalous, however. A 1903 article in The New York Times describes a “yellow day” similar to smoky events in 1894, 1881, and earlier. But large-scale burns in Canada’s dense, remote boreal, which produce more smoke, are increasing. Though it’s difficult to attribute any one wildfire directly to climate change because of the complex nature of such events, we do know that fire weather is becoming more common with the warming of the atmosphere from greenhouse gas emissions. As modeled by Zeke Hausfather in the Friday edition of his newsletter The Climate Brink, “hotter, drier seasons burn the most” in Canada — and “recent years cluster there” as the country has outpaced the global average in warming.
But as Hausfather also writes, “While overall area burned is the climate-linked trend, who breathes the smoke on a given week in July is mostly driven by the weather.” This is similar to the way that, though it may be a quiet year in the Atlantic, it only takes one hurricane making landfall in the right (or wrong) spot for the season to be remembered as catastrophic.
On the other hand, as foolish as it might be for the Central Plains and East Coast to still believe smoke is the exclusive domain of Westerners, it is also a mistake to assume smoke only comes from without. As I reported earlier this year, the Eastern half of the country has seen a 10-fold jump in the frequency of large burns over the last 40 years. Nowhere is safe from the smoke.
Planning and preparation, then, should be paramount. But as Grist learned last month, there are no established Air Quality Index numbers that would trigger the postponement, relocation, or cancellation of, say, a FIFA World Cup game, including the final, which is set to be played in New Jersey on Sunday. White House officials are reportedly meeting with FIFA’s president on Friday to discuss contingencies, given the unhealthy air quality in the region.
Which brings us back to Hayden’s modeling. He offered a note of optimism in that research by Stanford’s Sam Heft-Neal and his colleagues indicates that emergency room visits do not rise in tandem with increasing wildfire smoke. “As smoke gets bad, the health impacts get bigger. But then as smoke gets worse and worse, the amount of health impacts actually goes down, measured for emergency room visits,” Hayden said. “The idea is that people modify their behavior in higher smoke” — say, by staying indoors, wearing masks, or canceling outdoor events.
It’s time to treat smoke as an East Coast phenomenon, in other words. Doing so will save lives. “Will [smoke events] become more frequent in the future? Most likely we will see a recurrence,” Merrill, the meteorologist, told me. “How often they happen is yet to be determined.”