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Business Standard

Plan B for the planet depends on oversight, not technology alone

Not too long ago, the idea of cooling Earth by bouncing sunlight back into space would have seemed like a fringe fantasy — equal parts sci-fi and geopolitical taboo. These days, it's inching into the heart of serious climate conversations. This is no coincidence. Climate forecasts, once laden with caveats, are now sounding more like sirens. The World Meteorological Organization has warned that global temperatures could rise as much as 2°C above pre-industrial levels in the next five years, breaching a climate red line. At that mark, we're looking at shrinking crop yields, collapsing ecosystems, and more than a third of the global population potentially exposed to extreme heat. In this climate of urgency, Solar Radiation Modification (SRM), a subfield of solar geoengineering, is garnering attention. The concept is simple: Reflect a small portion of sunlight back into space to artificially cool the planet. The methods vary wildly — from injecting sulphur dioxide into the stratosphere to spreading reflective glass particles over Arctic ice. Elegant in theory but risky in practice. Tinker with the global thermostat to cool one region, and you might cause drought in another. The models are incomplete, risks planetary, and governance nearly absent. Still, money is flowing in. According to SRM360, a non-profit tracking developments in the field, funding between 2020 and 2024 reached $112.1 million — over 3x the $34.9 million spent between 2010 and 2014. And the momentum isn't slowing: $164.7 million has already been committed for the next phase, from 2025 through 2029. A key player in this new wave is the UK's Advanced Research and Innovation Agency (ARIA), which has pledged roughly $80 million towards real-world SRM experiments. Its 'Exploring Climate Cooling' initiative is pushing boundaries: Researchers under the programme aim to test whether they can thicken Arctic ice, brighten marine clouds, or even simulate the effects of orbital mirrors. Mark Symes, ARIA's programme director, put it bluntly in a recent BBC interview: 'There is a critical missing gap in our knowledge on the feasibility and impacts of SRM, and to fill that gap requires real-world outdoor experiments.' But that approach carries reputational risks. Over the past decade, several respected institutions— including Harvard and a UK university consortium involving Oxford — have launched SRM projects, only to pause or cancel them in the face of political backlash and scientific hesitation. But not everyone is waiting for academic approval. Since 2017, the Arctic Ice Project — a privately run effort — has scattered tiny reflective glass beads across 17,500 square metres of Arctic sea ice. The move drew protests from Native Alaskan leaders. It now hopes to scale up its deployment across 100,000 square kilometres. Then there's the do-it-yourself crowd. In 2022, a British independent researcher launched a weather balloon that released sulphur dioxide into the stratosphere, dubbing the project SATAN — Stratospheric Aerosol Transport and Nucleation. Around the same time, Silicon Valley-backed startup Make Sunsets began launching similar balloons while planning to sell 'cooling credits' to fund the operation. Critics argue that such experiments, if conducted without rigorous review, may violate international environmental laws, including the 1985 Vienna Convention, which protects the ozone layer. Some participants point to a lack of national regulation as justification. That legal vacuum, however, doesn't equal a green light. SRM360 has also flagged $1.1 million in anonymous donations to SRM efforts, raising concerns about transparency in a field with potential global consequences. And then, there's the spectre that haunts every SRM debate: Fossil fuel interests. Critics worry that solar geoengineering could offer a convenient excuse to avoid the harder — and more politically painful — task of cutting emissions.