Why I Changed My Mind About Geoengineering Research

When I first started researching solar radiation management for my novel, I was pretty sure I was writing a cautionary tale.

I'm a marine microbiologist. I spent twenty years studying ecosystems, and the one thing you learn when you study ecosystems is that they're more complex and interconnected than we ever give them credit for. You can't just tweak one variable and expect the rest to stay put. The ocean doesn't work that way. Coral reefs don't work that way. Microbial communities definitely don't work that way.

So the idea of injecting aerosols into the stratosphere to dim the sun and cool the planet struck me as exactly the kind of hubris that gets us into trouble. We don't understand the system well enough. We're going to create side effects we can't predict. This is a terrible idea.

And then I actually read the research.

What I learned

Here's what changed my mind—or more accurately, complicated it past the point where I could hold a simple position:

First, we're already doing the experiment.

We've been conducting an uncontrolled geoengineering experiment for 150 years. We call it "burning fossil fuels." We've altered atmospheric chemistry, ocean pH, global temperature patterns, and precipitation regimes without any kind of global governance, ethical framework, or exit strategy. The difference between that and solar radiation management isn't intervention vs. non-intervention. It's controlled intervention vs. uncontrolled intervention.

Second, the side effects might be better than the alternative.

Yes, solar radiation management would alter precipitation patterns. Yes, it would potentially weaken monsoons. Yes, it would create regional winners and losers. But here's the thing: so does unmitigated warming. The question isn't "Will SRM have side effects?" The question is "Will those side effects be worse than 3°C or 4°C of warming?"

When I looked at the modeling—and I spent months digging into the actual papers, not just the headlines—the answer wasn't as clear as I expected.

Third, we need to know if it works.

This is the part that finally shifted me from "absolutely not" to "we need to do the research."

If we hit a climate tipping point—and we might, faster than we think—we're going to be desperate. And when people are desperate, they make bad decisions with whatever tools are available. I would much rather we understand solar radiation management's real-world viability, its actual side effects, and its governance requirements now, under less pressure, than try to figure it out in an emergency.

Research doesn't commit us to deployment. It gives us information to make better choices if we ever face that decision.

What I'm still terrified of

None of this means I think geoengineering is a good idea or that I'm not deeply concerned about deployment.

Governance is a nightmare. Who decides? Who controls the thermostat? What happens when different countries disagree about the optimal temperature? What about the countries that suffer side effects while other countries benefit? There's no global institution equipped to handle those questions, and I don't see one emerging anytime soon.

Moral hazard is real. If people believe geoengineering is a backup plan, they might ease up on emissions reductions. That would be catastrophic. SRM doesn't address ocean acidification, doesn't fix the root problem, and would need to be maintained indefinitely once started.

Termination shock is terrifying. If we deploy SRM and then stop suddenly—because of war, economic collapse, or political decision—global temperatures would spike rapidly. That would be worse than if we'd never started.

Where I landed

I'm now strongly in favor of doing the research to determine SRM's real-world viability in worst-case warming scenarios. I think we need small-scale field experiments, better modeling, and serious work on governance frameworks.

I'm also strongly in favor of extreme caution about deployment. Short-term, carefully monitored, with clear scale-down plans and international agreement. And only if we're facing warming that's genuinely worse than SRM's side effects.

I don't love this position. It's not satisfying. It doesn't let me be the person who says "absolutely not" or the person who says "science will save us."

But it's where the evidence took me.

Why this matters for the novel

This intellectual journey is why I'm writing a real-topia instead of a cautionary tale.

The world of 2078 in my novel isn't one where geoengineering was obviously a mistake. It's one where people made a reasonable decision under pressure, bought some time, and now have to live with the consequences and make more hard choices.

Because that's probably what's going to happen.

And we need stories that help us think through that complexity—not stories that give us permission to look away or simple villains to blame.