Rescue teams work at the Kalladi landslide site in Meppadi, Wayanad, where a slope collapsed near the Anakkompoyil–Meenakshi tunnel construction site in July 2026, killing eight people and raising concerns about construction in the fragile Western Ghats. Image credit: Vaishnavi VS
On July 7, 2026, around 11 a.m., a rumble echoed through Meppadi and a six-year-old boy ran. He had stayed home from school that day. The moment he heard the sound, he rushed to his mother, wrapped his arms around her, and refused to let go. He was trembling. For him, the sound wasn’t just noise. It was 2024 again.
The boy had survived the Chooralmala landslide that killed hundreds of his neighbours two years ago, and he has been in counselling ever since. On this day, a new landslide six kilometres away, at the Anakkompoyil–Meenakshi tunnel construction site in Kalladi, had reopened the wound.
“For him, it was like reliving the 2024 landslide,” his grandmother, Roshna Yusaf, a social worker and former Meppadi block panchayat member, told EdPublica. “The moment he heard the familiar sound again, he came running and held on to his mother. He refused to stay apart.”
Meppadi is a small hill town in Wayanad, a hilly district in the southern Indian state of Kerala, set in the Western Ghats — a steep, rain-soaked mountain range that runs down India’s western coast and is globally recognised as one of the world’s biodiversity hotspots. It was here, in July 2024, that a series of landslides buried the neighbouring villages of Mundakkai and Chooralmala, killing hundreds of people in one of the deadliest disasters in Kerala’s history. Two years on, Meppadi panchayat — the local administrative area that includes both those villages, Kalladi, and the town itself — is still rebuilding. In July 2026, it happened again.
The Kalladi landslide killed eight people — seven migrant workers and the project’s construction manager — in a disaster that geo-scientists have since called preventable, pointing to inadequate geological and hydrological study for a tunnel driven through fragile Western Ghats terrain. Rescue operations ran for six days before all the bodies were recovered. Around 40 families from nearby Meenakshi were moved to relief camps.
For Meppadi, still rebuilding after the 2024 Chooralmala–Mundakkai disaster, it was not an isolated accident. It was a second interruption to childhoods, livelihoods, and a fragile sense of security the community had spent two years trying to rebuild.
When Childhood Is Interrupted
The six-year-old is one of many children in Meppadi still carrying the trauma of repeated landslides. For them, the sound of heavy rain or collapsing earth is enough to bring back memories they have spent months trying to overcome.
The latest disaster has again disrupted their education.
“It has been only one month since schools reopened. Now the children cannot go to school,” said Biji Zhacahi, a mother of two from Meenakshi.
“Every year, it is the children’s future that gets disrupted. Because of these repeated incidents, some children even become reluctant to go to school. As parents, we are always worried about their safety.”
Roshna pointed out how narrowly the community escaped a far larger tragedy. The Kalladi landslide struck at 11 a.m. — a school day, but after the morning rush.
“If the landslide had happened in the morning, many students could have lost their lives, because they usually board their school buses from the nearby bus stop,” she said.
The Kalladi landslide in Meppadi, Wayanad, completely destroyed a mosque, leaving behind only debris and mud. Image credit: Vaishnavi VS
For many families, interrupted schooling — and the fear of sending children to school at all — has become another fixture of every monsoon.
Women Living in Uncertainty
Repeated landslides have also reshaped daily life for women, many of whom manage households alone while their husbands work abroad.
“Women here have forgotten how to smile,” Roshna said. Years of facing one disaster after another, she said, have left many women emotionally exhausted.
“Every time it rains heavily, the same questions come back — what if another landslide happens, where do we run, how do we protect our children? The fear never really leaves.”
When Livelihoods Depend on the Weather
The uncertainty extends well beyond the home. It touches almost every livelihood in Meppadi.
“When it rains, it rains continuously for several days,” said Krishna Raj, a shop owner in Meppadi town. “Transportation becomes difficult. We have to travel to nearby towns to bring supplies for our shops, but during heavy rain that is not always possible.”
With roads frequently cut off, even running a small business becomes a gamble.
For jeep driver Mansoor Ali, every journey through the hills carries its own anxiety.
“It is very scary to drive here at night,” he said. “Whenever I hear a loud sound, I fear it is another landslide. In the dark, we don’t even know where to run. That is how most drivers here live.”
Many residents had already shifted from agriculture to tourism after repeated crop losses from wild animal attacks made farming increasingly difficult. Landslides, and the restrictions on tourist movement that follow them, have now unsettled that livelihood too.
“People moved to tourism because farming became difficult,” said Sijo, who works in the sector. “Now tourist visits and homestays have also been affected.”
For many families in Meppadi, there is no livelihood the monsoon has left untouched.
A Tunnel That Brings Hope — and Questions
Despite the tragedy at the construction site, residents largely continue to support the Anakkompoyil–Meenakshi (Kalladi–Meppadi) tunnel project. The twin-tunnel road is meant to cut straight through the hills separating hilly, landlocked Wayanad from the neighbouring coastal district of Malappuram, replacing the long, congested detour drivers currently take over the Thamarassery Ghat — a winding mountain pass notorious for accidents and traffic jams.
“We have great expectations from this project,” said Nishal, a resident of Meenakshi. “Better connectivity is something people here have needed for years.” At the same time, he added, residents are uneasy about how the construction is being carried out.
Roshna fears that soil excavated from the tunnel is being dumped on the slopes above her home. “If more soil is dumped above the mountain, many houses, including mine, could be affected,” she said. “I am 56 years old. I cannot build another house.”
Her fear echoes the explanation Kerala’s government has itself offered for the disaster: a state minister called it not a natural landslide but a man-made one, a clear case of lapse, and said the district collector had warned the tunnel’s contractor, Konkan Railway, in writing about the danger — a warning that went unheeded. Following the incident, the Kerala government suspended all construction on the Rs 2,134-crore tunnel project pending two separate investigations.
Nishal recalled that a strong artesian spring had emerged during the tunnel’s initial construction phase the previous summer. A paddy field near the site had also been cleared and filled in by the construction company, he said, and inadequate drainage afterward let water and loosened soil flow downhill. Many residents, he added, still don’t know whether they will eventually be displaced, because the project’s final alignment has never been clearly communicated to them.
“People have doubts because they don’t have clear information,” he said. “But almost everyone supports the project because we need better connectivity.”
The tension between that need and its risks is not new. A legal challenge to the tunnel had argued that it cut through an ecologically fragile region already prone to repeated landslides, and that environmental safeguards were inadequate. In April 2026, the Supreme Court declined to halt construction, calling the project one of significant public importance and leaving compliance to statutory regulators. The court settled the legal question. The Kalladi landslide reopened the scientific one.
A Disaster With a Familiar Shape
The parallels to 2024 are not just emotional; they are geological. Both disasters struck the same short stretch of hill country in Meppadi panchayat, where a thick layer of weathered, unconsolidated lateritic soil sits over highly fractured bedrock — a combination that loses its shear strength rapidly once intense rainfall raises pore-water pressure inside the slope. Researchers who studied the 2024 disaster concluded that this fragile geology, not any single cause, was what turned extreme rain into a catastrophic slope failure, and warned that the region’s concave slopes, which concentrate runoff, remain especially susceptible to future failures.
The 2024 Chooralmala–Mundakkai landslide remains one of the deadliest in Kerala’s history. Official confirmed deaths stood at 231 for months, before the state government declared all 32 people still listed as missing to be dead, in a notification issued on February 10, 2025 — a bureaucratic closing of the books that, for families, only formalised a grief they had already been living with. Independent researchers, using different counting methods, have since put the true toll considerably higher.
For Meppadi, that history is why an eight-death landslide at a tunnel site feels less like a new disaster than a recurrence — proof that a community built on some of the most landslide-prone slopes in the Western Ghats has yet to find a way to build, or to grieve, that outlasts the next monsoon.
A Town That Never Stops Recovering
For Meppadi, the latest landslide is not an isolated tragedy. It is another interruption in a recovery that never seems to end.
Children grow up carrying trauma. Women wait anxiously through every spell of rain. Workers wonder whether their livelihoods will survive another monsoon.
Yet amid the uncertainty, residents say it is the community’s solidarity that helps them move forward.
“From the NDRF and Fire and Rescue teams to local people, everyone stands together with one heart to rebuild the area,” said Meppadi Grama Panchayat President Ramla Hamza. “The resilience of the people, even after facing repeated disasters, makes these difficult times a little easier to bear.”
The rescue teams have left, and the roads will eventually reopen.
But in Meppadi, the true cost of living is not measured only in damaged homes or lost income. It is measured in a community forced to begin recovering all over again, every time the hills give way.
Ground report from Meppadi, Wayanad, Kerala, India. Some names of residents quoted appear as given to our reporter in the field.
Vaishnavi VS is an Editorial Associate at EdPublica. She holds a Master's degree in Mass Communication from Pondicherry University, India. She writes on education, science, environment, innovation, and public policy.
August 2026 tied July 2023 as the warmest month ever recorded globally. Record ocean temperatures and strengthening El Niño conditions add another dimension to the climate signal, with implications for India’s already uneven monsoon.
People gather along a waterfront at sunset as the world records increasingly high temperatures. Representational image. Image credit: Samet Çolakoğlu/Pexels
August 2026 tied July 2023 as the warmest month ever recorded globally. But the significance of the latest record lies beyond the temperature figure itself. Heat was building across the oceans, western Europe endured its hottest summer on record, and in India, a strengthening El Niño was adding pressure to an already uneven monsoon.
The global average surface air temperature in August was 16.96°C, 0.85°C above the 1991–2020 average, making it the warmest August in the ERA5 record. Relative to the estimated 1850–1900 pre-industrial average, temperatures were 1.65°C higher. It was the first month to cross 1.5°C since November 2025.
A single month above 1.5°C does not mean the Paris Agreement’s long-term temperature threshold has been breached. That threshold is assessed over a much longer period. What the August figure does show is how far short-term temperatures can now move beyond the historical baseline.
The Oceans Are Sending Their Own Signal
The heat was not confined to the atmosphere. Extra-polar oceans recorded their warmest August in the ERA5 dataset, with an average sea surface temperature of 21.07°C. That was also tied with March 2024 for the highest monthly average recorded for any month.
The tropical Pacific was particularly warm as El Niño conditions strengthened. Around Europe, Atlantic and western Mediterranean waters reached record August temperatures, alongside widespread strong or severe marine heatwaves. The ocean matters here because its warmth can influence atmospheric circulation, rainfall and marine ecosystems. In 2026, its connection to India’s monsoon was particularly relevant.
India Was Watching the Pacific
For India, the global temperature record arrived against a difficult monsoon backdrop. The India Meteorological Department had forecast below-normal rainfall for the 2026 southwest monsoon. By August 2, cumulative rainfall was 12% below the long-period average, with 47% of districts facing deficient or large-deficient rainfall. IMD attributed part of the suppressed monsoon circulation to the development and strengthening of El Niño conditions in the equatorial Pacific.
The deficits were not uniform. By early August, Kerala and Mahe were 22% below normal, while 16 meteorological subdivisions had rainfall deficits ranging from 20% to 38%.
That does not mean August’s global heat record caused India’s rainfall deficit. The monsoon is shaped by several interacting climate systems, and El Niño is only one of them. But the concurrence is significant: while the tropical Pacific was registering exceptional warmth, India was dealing with a monsoon season that was already running below its seasonal benchmark.
Europe Shows the Cost of Persistent Heat
Western Europe had its warmest summer on record in 2026, surpassing the previous record set in 2003. Heatwaves arrived early and persisted through the season. Heat was accompanied by prolonged dryness. Severe drought conditions were reported in France, the UK, Hungary, Romania and Serbia, while exceptionally low river flows affected the Rhine, Danube, Southern Bug and Dnieper.
The connection is important: extreme heat does not operate in isolation. When high temperatures persist alongside rainfall deficits, their effects can accumulate across agriculture, water systems, ecosystems and wildfire risk.
The Record Is Becoming the Background
August’s warmth is more revealing when viewed alongside the other records surrounding it. The month saw exceptional ocean temperatures and low sea-ice levels, while June–August was jointly the warmest global summer on record, matching 2024.
Source: Climate Change Service
The challenge in interpreting such records is to look beyond the headline number. A record month does not mean every region experienced record heat. It means the global climate system is operating from a warmer baseline, while regional weather continues to be shaped by monsoons, El Niño, ocean temperatures and other climate patterns. August 2026 was another record. Its importance may ultimately lie in how quickly records such as this stop looking extraordinary.
Europe’s Cities Are Adapting to Climate Change Yet Is It Reaching Residents?
European cities are expanding climate adaptation measures, from green infrastructure to flood protection. But major differences in urban design, transport access and funding show why adaptation remains uneven.
A crowded Mediterranean beach beneath strong summer sun, with dense urban development rising behind it. Such built-up coastal environments can intensify heat exposure as European cities experience rising temperatures. Representational image. Image credit: AXP Photography/Pexels
A city can draw up a climate adaptation plan quickly. Changing what people experience on its streets takes years. Across Europe, local governments are investing in measures meant to make urban areas more resilient to rising temperatures, flooding and other climate risks. The 2026 Europe Cities Report by the Lancet Countdown recorded 1,519 planned or implemented adaptation actions across more than 850 cities. These include green infrastructure, flood defences, ecological restoration and community engagement.
There are signs that some of these interventions are making a difference. Summer surface urban heat-island intensity declined in 88% of the cities analysed, with an average reduction of 0.7°C. But progress is uneven. Nearly one-third of the cities reported financial and technical constraints as major barriers to adaptation. For residents, the value of these measures is ultimately measured at a much smaller scale: a shaded road, a cooler neighbourhood, a bus stop protected from direct sun or a safer route to work and school.
Tree-lined streets provide shade in a residential urban neighbourhood, illustrating how urban greenery can help cities manage heat exposure and improve liveability. Representational image. Image credit: Sathyaprabha Rakkimuthu/Pexels
Climate Adaptation: Where the Trees are Matters
Trees are one of the most visible ways cities can respond to heat, but the amount of urban tree cover varies widely across Europe. Swedish cities had average tree cover equivalent to 41.6% of urban land in 2020. Eleven of the 14 cities studied had at least 30% tree cover. Bulgaria’s average was 22%, while Spain recorded 13.2%, France 9.2% and Ireland 3.4%. The figures do not establish a direct link between tree cover and a city’s overall heat risk. They do, however, show how different the urban environments are in which people are exposed to a warming climate.
Dr Rita Issa, a family medicine and climate-health consultant at WHO, identifies green spaces as an intervention that can support physical and mental health while helping cities respond to environmental pressures. She also points to low-emission zones as an example of a policy that can produce health benefits alongside environmental gains.
But where greenery is placed matters. A park at the edge of a neighbourhood may offer little protection to someone walking along a treeless road or waiting at an exposed bus stop. Trees lining routes used by children, older people and pedestrians can affect heat exposure much more directly.
Adaptation Measured by its Impact
The 1,519 adaptation actions in the report cover a broad range of interventions. Community engagement accounted for 8.1% of the actions, green infrastructure for 6.4%, flood defence for 5.1% and ecological restoration for 4.5%.
Of these actions, 596, or 39.2%, reported public-health co-benefits. That provides a useful way of looking at urban adaptation. Infrastructure is only part of the story. What matters is whether an intervention reduces exposure or produces measurable benefits for residents. Francesca de’Donato of ASL Roma 1 says city-level indicators can help connect scientific evidence with local policy while allowing health co-benefits to be measured and monitored.
That approach shifts the focus from the number of projects completed to what they achieve. A city can count the trees it has planted or the flood barriers it has built. It is more useful to know whether those measures have reduced heat exposure, improved air quality or made vulnerable neighbourhoods safer.
Heat Changes Cities’ Movement
Transport is closely tied to this question. The cities studied in Sweden and Spain recorded an average sustainable transport score of 5.3 out of 10. Ireland scored 5.2, France 5 and Bulgaria 4.6. Access to public transport also differed. Only 23% of urban areas in the Swedish cities studied were within 250 metres of a public transport stop. The corresponding figures were 32% in Spain, 31% in Ireland and 30% in France.
Then there is the question of shade. Trees covered 27.7% of cycling and shared cycling-pedestrian paths in the Swedish cities studied. The proportion fell to 9.4% in Spain and 8.3% in Ireland.
These indicators are presented as measures of transport infrastructure, but they also say something about exposure to heat. A journey that is manageable in moderate weather can become difficult when temperatures rise and the route offers little shade. Jordi Jové of the Barcelona Metropolitan Area links sustainable mobility with lower emissions, cleaner air and healthier urban environments. For cities facing more frequent heat, how people move around the urban environment becomes part of the climate-health equation.
The Cost of Adaptation Remains a Constraint
The biggest obstacle may not be a lack of possible solutions. Nearly one-third of the cities in the report identified financial and technical constraints as major barriers to adaptation. Many measures also require continued investment after they are built. Trees need space and maintenance. Public transport systems require long-term funding. Heat-health measures depend on cooperation between municipal authorities, health services and communities. The 596 adaptation actions reporting public-health co-benefits point to one way of making these investments work harder. A single intervention can address several problems.
A greener street can provide shade and improve the surrounding environment. Better public transport can reduce emissions and traffic-related pollution. Streets designed for walking can make everyday journeys easier while reducing dependence on cars. The difficulty is ensuring that these benefits do not remain concentrated in parts of a city that already have better infrastructure.
The Real Measure of a Climate-ready City
The report presents a European urban landscape that is changing, but not at the same pace everywhere. Some cities have reduced their summer heat-island intensity. Others have extensive tree cover or are investing in transport, flood protection and ecological restoration. Yet many still face financial and technical limits. Lorna Benton of Pathfinder says city-level assessments can help cities understand the health risks they face and identify opportunities to build healthier, more resilient and lower-carbon urban environments.
The next step is whether that information changes decisions on the ground. For residents, adaptation is not experienced as a number in a municipal report. It is the shade on a walk to school, the temperature at a bus stop, the availability of a nearby green space or the ease of reaching a clinic without spending too long in the heat.
That is where the success of urban climate policy becomes tangible. European cities have started changing their streets, public spaces and transport systems. The larger challenge is to make those changes reach the neighbourhoods and people most exposed to a hotter climate.
The Ocean Has Been Breaking Heat Records. Marine Life Is Paying the Price
Record ocean heat is already changing marine life, from declining sardines and coral reefs to shifts in fish populations. Here is what the warming means for ecosystems and people.
A warming ocean is placing growing pressure on marine ecosystems, fisheries and coastal communities as global sea temperatures continue to reach record levels. Representational Image. Image credit: Ray Bilcliff/Pexels
In the waters around Jeju Island in South Korea, divers are watching coral colonies collapse. The soft corals around the island are showing a condition researchers call “slumping”. Instead of holding their usual shape, parts of the colonies are losing their structure as the water becomes warmer due to ocean warming and environmental stress increases. Researchers have found signs of deterioration across coral clusters, with some areas showing severe decline. The corals are important nurseries for other marine species, so their deterioration affects more than the organisms themselves.
The situation in Jeju is one small example of a much larger change taking place across the world’s oceans. For about 100 days this summer, global sea-surface temperatures outside the polar regions remained at record levels for the time of year. Climate Central‘s analysis of NOAA data found the record streak running from June 2 through September 10, 2026. The NOAA dataset reached 21.24°C on August 23.
Global daily sea-surface temperatures from 2023 to 2026 show how recent years have remained well above the range recorded from 1982–2022, with 2026 reaching the highest levels shown. Source: Climate Central, using NOAA OISSTv2.1 data.
Copernicus recorded a slightly different peak of 21.11°C because it uses another dataset and methodology. Its August average of 21.07°C was the highest August value in its record. The number itself is difficult to picture. Its consequences are easier to see.
Ocean Warming and Marine Animals
Consider the oil sardine, one of the most familiar fish along India’s coast. The species is particularly sensitive to changes in sea temperature. India’s Central Marine Fisheries Research Institute has warned that the El Niño-driven warming expected later this year could affect oil sardine availability in 2027. CMFRI says small pelagic fish such as oil sardines are among the species most vulnerable to marine heatwaves and ocean warming.
That makes the current global warming signal relevant to an Indian fishing household as well as to climate scientists. The same pattern is already visible elsewhere. Morocco’s sardine landings fell 46% in 2026. Warmer waters were identified as a major factor, along with overfishing, pollution and higher fuel costs. The decline contributed to an export ban on frozen sardines and shortages in European markets.
In Peru, the fishing sector fell 73% year on year in May. The country’s first anchovy fishing season produced only about 0.5 million tonnes, compared with 1.9 million tonnes a year earlier. Manufacturing connected to fishing fell 42%. The fish do not need to die for this to become an economic problem. If the water becomes uncomfortable for a species, it can move. A fishing fleet that has depended on finding that species in the same waters for generations may then have to travel farther, catch less or change what it fishes for.
A 2026 study examining more than 33,000 fish populations found that long-term ocean warming was associated with annual biomass declines of up to 19.8%. Marine heatwaves produced much sharper losses in some populations at the warmer edge of their range, reaching 43.4%.
Then There is the Coral That Cannot Move
This is where the damage becomes harder to reverse. Fish can follow cooler water. A coral reef cannot. When seawater remains too warm, corals expel the microscopic algae living inside their tissues. Those algae provide much of the coral’s energy and give it its colour. The result is coral bleaching. If the heat persists, the coral can die.
Ocean warming and prolonged marine heat stress can cause corals to bleach, putting reef ecosystems at greater risk of damage and mortality. Representational image. Image credit: Zir YU/Pexels
The Mesoamerican Reef has experienced this on a huge scale. Almost the entire reef was exposed to serious heat stress during 2023 and 2024. Around half of its corals were severely affected by bleaching. Between 2023 and 2025, the reef lost about half of its living coral, leaving live coral cover at only 17%.
That loss changes the habitat available to fish and other marine organisms. It also affects people who depend on reefs for fishing, tourism and protection from waves. The Mediterranean has seen another kind of biological upheaval. Repeated marine heatwaves have contributed to mass deaths of marine organisms, while coral populations in some areas have fallen sharply. The noble fan mussel, one of the Mediterranean’s largest shellfish, has been pushed close to extinction in recent years.
Some Animals Thrive: Hidden Trouble
Ocean warming does not kill everything equally. Some species benefit from warmer conditions or move into areas that were previously too cold for them. That can produce an unfamiliar mix of species and upset existing food chains.
British waters are already showing this shift. Warmer conditions have been associated with increasing numbers of warm-water species such as sunfish, sardines and anchovies, while cold-water species including cod have declined along parts of the southern coast. Octopus populations have increased in some areas, putting additional pressure on crab and lobster fisheries.
That is not necessarily a sign that the ecosystem is becoming healthier. An ecosystem works through relationships between species. Change one part and others can be affected. A new predator, a disappearing prey species or a fish moving into unfamiliar waters can alter what other animals eat and where they survive. A 2026 study of Western Mediterranean ecosystems found that marine heatwaves were associated with declines in commercially important fish and invertebrates, with catch reductions exceeding 10% in some areas.
The Smallest Organisms Matter
There is another change taking place much lower in the food chain. Phytoplankton are tiny organisms that use sunlight to produce energy in the ocean. They form the base of many marine food webs. When ocean temperatures and nutrient conditions change, their productivity can change as well.
ISRO’s Oceansat-3 observations found a marked decline in surface chlorophyll-a concentrations in the equatorial Pacific in June 2026, consistent with reduced marine productivity as El Niño developed. Chlorophyll-a is commonly used as an indicator of the amount of microscopic plant life in the water. ([The Indian Express][6])
That matters because the effects can move upward through the food chain. Less food for tiny organisms can mean less food for small fish. That can affect larger fish, seabirds and marine mammals. During past marine heatwaves, the consequences have been dramatic. The 2014–16 “Blob” in the northeast Pacific contributed to the starvation of thousands of sea lion pups and the deaths of about four million common murres, according to the factsheet.
The bird deaths were not simply a story about birds struggling with hot water. The heatwave altered the marine food web, making it harder for them to find enough suitable food.
The Ocean can Change What Happens on Land
This is where the story moves from marine biology into everyday life. Warm seawater can supply additional heat and moisture to weather systems. Marine heatwaves have been linked with stronger storms, extreme rainfall and heatwaves over land. One study cited in the factsheet found that 22% of continental heatwaves and 43% of coastal heatwaves began as marine heatwaves.
Storm Daniel, which killed nearly 6,000 people in 2023, was fuelled by unusually warm Mediterranean waters. Climate change made the storm 50 times more likely and increased its intensity by 50%, according to the attribution analysis cited in the factsheet. Cyclone Gabrielle, which struck New Zealand in 2023, formed over abnormally warm seas and caused NZ$14 billion in damage. Climate change increased the intensity of its rainfall.
The connection is not as simple as saying “warm ocean equals stronger storm”. Storms depend on several atmospheric and ocean conditions. But a warmer ocean changes the conditions available to those weather systems.
Warming is not a One-year Event
El Niño is contributing to the current heat. It explains part of the unusually high temperatures in 2026, particularly in the Pacific. The larger trend is much older. The ocean has absorbed about 93% of the excess heat trapped by the warming atmosphere. Around 104 zettajoules of energy have entered the ocean during the past decade. The rate of warming during the last 20 years has been more than twice that of the preceding 40 years.
That is why today’s “cool” La Niña years are still warmer than El Niño years from earlier decades. After the previous El Niño ended in May 2024, sea temperatures remained close to or above previous records through 2025 and early 2026. The ocean is essentially carrying the accumulated heat of a warming planet.
What 21.24°C Really Means
A global ocean temperature is an average. It does not mean every part of the sea is 21.24°C. Tropical waters are much warmer; polar waters are far colder. What matters is the departure from the conditions marine ecosystems have evolved around, and how long that departure lasts.
In July 2026, 37% of the world’s ocean was experiencing a marine heatwave, according to NOAA. That ranked second among all months since 1991. NOAA’s forecast also points to potentially even greater marine heatwave coverage during the northern-hemisphere winter of 2026–27. For a coral colony, that can mean bleaching. For a sardine, it can mean moving into different waters. For a fishing community, it can mean a smaller catch. For a seabird, it can mean less food. For a country dependent on fisheries, it can mean lost revenue.
And for people living on the coast, changes in the ocean can eventually arrive as a storm, a disrupted livelihood or a higher food bill. The most important number in the 2026 ocean record may therefore not be 21.24°C. It is the roughly 100 days that the ocean stayed at record warmth. Marine ecosystems can sometimes recover from a short shock. Repeated or prolonged heat gives them much less time to do so. That is what makes a hot ocean worth watching even for people who rarely see the sea.