As Japan expands its role as a global gas trader, a new analysis raises questions about whether Asia is importing energy security—or future climate liabilities. Japan US LNG trade generated lifecycle emissions equal to about 17 coal plants in a year, raising concerns about Asia’s growing dependence on imported gas.

The liquefied natural gas (LNG) cargoes that Japan resold across Asia over the past five years generated greenhouse gas emissions equivalent to running about 17 coal-fired power plants for a year, according to a new analysis by Zero Carbon Analytics.

The finding comes at a time when several Asian economies are turning to LNG as a bridge fuel in their energy transition strategies, while governments simultaneously pledge to cut emissions and expand renewable energy.

According to the analysis, Japan resold 16.5 billion kilograms of US-produced LNG to nine Asian countries between 2020 and 2025. Across the fuel’s lifecycle—from extraction and liquefaction in the United States to shipping, regasification and combustion in Asia—those sales generated an estimated 63.5 billion kilograms of carbon dioxide emissions.

The report highlights a little-discussed aspect of Asia’s gas trade: Japan is increasingly acting as a middleman in the global LNG market.

Japan’s US LNG Trade–Japan Now Resells More US LNG Than It Uses

Japan remains one of the world’s largest LNG importers, but its domestic demand for gas has been declining.

The analysis found that between 2021 and 2025, Japan sold 77 percent more US LNG to other countries than it imported for its own domestic consumption.

In 2024, Japan ranked as the world’s second-largest LNG trader. While Europe remained the largest destination for Japanese LNG resales, nearly one-third of those transactions were directed to Asian markets, including South Korea, China, India, Taiwan, Thailand, Singapore, Bangladesh, Pakistan and Malaysia.

Three of Japan’s top ten LNG resale destinations were Asian economies: South Korea, China and India.

The numbers reflect a broader shift in regional energy markets. Countries seeking alternatives to coal have increasingly turned to LNG, often presenting gas as a cleaner transition fuel. Yet critics argue that this framing overlooks emissions generated throughout the fuel supply chain.

The Methane Problem

Natural gas is composed primarily of methane, a greenhouse gas that has far greater warming potential than carbon dioxide in the short term.

According to the International Energy Agency’s 2026 Global Methane Tracker, methane emissions from fossil fuel operations remain near record levels globally.

The Zero Carbon Analytics analysis estimates that roughly 30 percent of total LNG lifecycle emissions arise from methane released during extraction, processing and transportation.

Methane can trap around 80 times more heat than carbon dioxide during the first two decades after it enters the atmosphere, making leakage a critical concern for climate scientists.

The report’s emissions calculations include every stage of the LNG supply chain rather than focusing solely on combustion emissions at power plants.

Energy Security or Fossil Fuel Lock-In?

The findings arrive amid renewed concerns over energy security following instability in the Middle East and uncertainty surrounding global gas supplies.

Several Asian economies, including Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines, have expanded LNG imports in recent years to diversify their energy systems. However, the same dependence has exposed them to volatile international fuel prices.

Yu Sun Chin, Asia Regional Researcher at Zero Carbon Analytics, said the growing trade has implications beyond emissions.

“Japan’s growing role as an LNG trader has significant implications for Asia, which is absorbing close to a third of Japan’s excess supplies. Our calculations of the full lifecycle emissions of these LNG resales highlight the risk they pose to a region already vulnerable to extreme weather and other climate impacts. Rather than increasing reliance on gas as a ‘transition fuel’, transitioning to renewables offers Asia a clearer route to a clean and secure energy future.”

The concern is not merely about current emissions. Energy analysts warn that investments in LNG terminals, pipelines and related infrastructure could lock countries into fossil fuel consumption for decades.

Sam Reynolds, LNG and Gas Research Lead for Asia at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis (IEEFA), noted that Japanese companies are increasingly looking abroad as domestic demand declines.

“As Japan’s own LNG demand continues to decline, Japanese companies are becoming increasingly active traders of the fuel to other countries. At the same time, public and private financiers in Japan are investing in downstream infrastructure to stimulate demand and secure long-term customers.”

He added that such investments could leave emerging economies dependent on “a volatile, expensive fuel source for decades” while delaying renewable energy deployment.

Asia’s Climate Challenge

Asia is simultaneously one of the world’s fastest-growing energy markets and one of the regions most vulnerable to climate impacts.

From deadly heatwaves in South Asia to flooding in China and stronger tropical cyclones across Southeast Asia, the region is already experiencing the consequences of rising temperatures.

Climate scientists estimate that global emissions must nearly halve within this decade to keep the Paris Agreement’s 1.5°C goal within reach.

Against that backdrop, environmental groups argue that expanding LNG infrastructure risks undermining climate commitments.

Shruti Shukla, Senior Advocate for International Energy at the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), said the region faces a strategic choice.

“Japan has long positioned itself as a regional energy and economic leader in Asia. That leadership should help accelerate a resilient clean energy transition across the region, not deepen dependence on another generation of imported fossil fuels.”

She warned that growing LNG imports expose countries to methane emissions, volatile fuel markets and costly infrastructure that could become obsolete as renewable technologies become cheaper.

The Economic Risks

The debate extends beyond climate concerns.

Researchers increasingly point to the possibility that LNG infrastructure built today may become stranded assets before the end of its expected lifespan.

Nawaphat Junkrajang, senior researcher at Climate Finance Network Thailand, cited research suggesting that nearly half of Thailand’s operating and proposed LNG terminal capacity could become economically unviable under the country’s climate commitments.

“Each additional resale cargo is not energy security. It is one more step into a lock-in the transition will eventually have to unwind,” he said.

Bangladesh faces similar concerns.

Dr Khondaker Golam Moazzem, Research Director at the Centre for Policy Dialogue, said new energy agreements and infrastructure investments could deepen dependence on imported LNG while narrowing opportunities for renewable energy investment.

A Growing Regional Debate

The analysis arrives as governments across Asia reassess their energy pathways.

Supporters of LNG argue that gas provides reliable electricity generation and can complement intermittent renewable sources. Critics counter that falling costs of solar, wind and battery storage are weakening the economic rationale for large-scale LNG expansion.

What is clear from the data is that Japan’s role in regional gas markets is evolving rapidly. The country is no longer simply a major LNG consumer; it has become a significant intermediary connecting US gas producers with Asian buyers.

As Asia balances energy security, affordability and climate goals, that role is likely to attract increasing scrutiny.

For policymakers, the question may no longer be whether LNG emits less carbon than coal at the point of combustion. Instead, it is whether a region racing to build a low-carbon future can afford to lock itself into another generation of fossil fuel infrastructure.

About Second Act
Second Act is an EdPublica series that explores the lives of individuals who have embraced a new calling after a successful first career. Through their journeys, the series examines purpose, reinvention, lifelong learning, and the impact of experience in shaping meaningful contributions to society.

This edition explores how former Bell Labs researcher Sudhir Ambekar transitioned from engineering and telecommunications research to the classroom. His journey from IIT Bombay and UC Berkeley to teaching mathematics reveals how purpose, curiosity and lifelong learning can shape a meaningful second act.

I was born in Mumbai (formerly Bombay), but my formative years were shaped in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), where I completed my high school education. From there, I entered IIT Bombay to study mechanical engineering, graduating in 1965. After a brief stint at a small company in Thane, I left for the University of California, Berkeley—an experience that would shape the trajectory of my professional life.

At Berkeley, I chose to pursue a Doctor of Engineering rather than a traditional PhD. The distinction mattered to me. While a PhD was more research-oriented, the Doctor of Engineering emphasised applied work—something I was drawn to because I preferred seeing tangible results sooner rather than later.

My research focused on joining TRIP (Transformation Induced Plasticity) steel, a specialised material being developed at the Lawrence Radiation Laboratory. TRIP steel has the remarkable ability to retain the sharpness of a cutting edge even after repeated use. Under stress, its internal structure transforms in a way that preserves strength. Welding, however, typically weakens metal at the joint. My work aimed to solve precisely that problem: how to retain strength even after welding.

After completing my graduate work, I joined Bell Labs, then the research and development arm of AT&T. Bell Labs was an extraordinary place—not because it assigned people to narrowly defined roles, but because it brought together individuals who could contribute across a wide range of problems.

During my time there, I worked on developing micro gold crossovers on ceramic substrates, a technology used in high-density electronic components for advanced telecommunications systems. Over the years, I participated in both development and research projects. Development projects were implemented in real-world systems, while research projects explored possibilities that often pushed the boundaries of what seemed feasible at the time.

In one such project, I was part of a team that demonstrated the feasibility of transmitting voice, data, and video simultaneously over household electrical wiring—an idea that anticipated a future where any data device could simply be plugged into a wall, much like an electrical appliance. In another, I worked with a colleague who built a prototype computer, roughly the size of a desktop, capable of supercomputer-level performance using commercially available components. Although the technology was not adopted due to the scale of software changes required, it reflected the kind of forward-thinking work that defined Bell Labs in the early 1980s.

Alongside this professional work, I found myself drawn to teaching in an unexpected way. Within the Indian community, we started a small Marathi school as a voluntary initiative. Despite having no formal training as a teacher—and limited formal grounding in Marathi myself, having grown up outside Maharashtra—I decided to teach.

That decision changed something fundamental for me.

I realised that one of the best ways to truly learn a subject is to teach it. My own command of Marathi improved significantly, but more importantly, I discovered that I enjoyed teaching deeply. It offered a kind of immediacy and human connection that was different from research.

Circumstances eventually led me to retire earlier than I had expected. But rather than seeing retirement as an end, I began to think of it as an opportunity.

Teaching, I realised, was something I could carry into my later years—not just as an occupation, but as a source of purpose.

I had already helped my children with mathematics during their high school years, and I had noticed that the way mathematics was taught in the United States differed significantly from how I had learned it in India. Curious and motivated, I decided to pursue teaching more seriously.

To do so, I enrolled in a year-long certification programme to become a high school mathematics teacher. It was a humbling experience—returning to the classroom, this time as a learner preparing to teach.

After certification, I began teaching full-time. This marked the beginning of my second career.

It was, in many ways, a completely new world.

This is the first part of a two-part series. The concluding part will appear in the next issue of Education Publica.

Sudhir M. Ambekar is a mechanical engineer trained at IIT Bombay and the University of California, Berkeley. He spent nearly three decades at Bell Labs working in telecommunications research and development. After retirement, he became a certified mathematics teacher and now tutors students for SAT and ACT college entrance examinations.

First the lightning, then the thunder—that is what we believe we witness. Yet physics tells us the opposite is true. Thunder always comes first; its sound simply arrives later. Bullying follows a similar pattern. What eventually becomes visible conflict often begins quietly, long before anyone calls it by its name.

A joke goes unchecked. A complaint is dismissed as overreaction. A child realises that speaking up changes nothing. In those moments, bullying has already taken root. By the time it reaches headlines or disciplinary hearings, the behaviour has often been normalised within the social fabric of a classroom.

Silence is rarely accidental. It is sustained—by peers who fear becoming the next target, by adults who underestimate the harm, and sometimes by institutions that prioritise reputation over accountability.

Character Over Competence: A Global Shift

Recently, universities in South Korea made international headlines for rejecting applicants with documented histories of school bullying. In several cases, admissions decisions reportedly changed after evidence of past bullying emerged. The message was clear: academic excellence alone is no longer enough if it is accompanied by a record of harming others.

The aftermath revealed something deeper. Some rejected applicants reportedly appeared with parents and legal representatives to challenge the decisions. The controversy exposed a troubling reality: bullying is rarely sustained by students alone.

Parents, often understandably protective of their children, may sometimes pressure schools to minimise incidents. Educators, navigating institutional hierarchies, may feel compelled to preserve the school’s image. Gradually, a culture of quiet accommodation replaces accountability.

The question that emerges is uncomfortable but necessary: who truly sustains bullying—students, families, educators, or the systems that reward silence?

When Schools Stop Feeling Safe

Schools are meant to be environments of learning, curiosity, and belonging. Yet for many students, they become spaces marked by anxiety, humiliation, and exclusion.

Bullying is not a harmless rite of passage or a phase children inevitably outgrow. Decades of psychological research show that repeated harassment—whether verbal, physical, or social—can leave long-term scars on mental health, self-esteem, and academic engagement.

Bullying is typically defined as repeated aggressive behaviour involving an imbalance of power. One individual or group deliberately harms another through intimidation, exclusion, ridicule, or physical aggression. With the rise of digital communication, cyberbullying has intensified the problem, extending harassment beyond school walls and leaving victims feeling trapped even in their own homes.

Understanding bullying therefore requires looking beyond individual behaviour. It requires examining the emotional and social ecosystems that allow harm to persist.

The Psychology Behind Bullying Behaviour

Public narratives often portray bullies as inherently cruel individuals. Psychological research paints a more complex picture.

Some children use aggression as a strategy to gain social status or dominance within peer groups. When classmates laugh, remain silent, or join the behaviour, the bully receives reinforcement. Power becomes socially rewarding.

In other cases, bullying behaviour reflects patterns observed at home. Children raised in environments shaped by conflict, neglect, or harsh discipline may internalise aggression as a way to assert control or cope with insecurity.

Emotional regulation also plays a crucial role. Adolescents struggling with anger, anxiety, or feelings of invisibility may externalise these emotions through hostility towards others. In such situations, bullying can become a maladaptive coping strategy—an attempt to manage unresolved emotional distress.

These dynamics are not merely theoretical. They emerge clearly in lived experience.

SP, now pursuing a master’s degree in psychology, remembers being bullied after transferring schools when her family returned from Dubai. Her accent, mannerisms, and background made her stand out. Classmates mocked the differences that marked her identity.

The bullying subsided only when peers learned she was coping with her parents’ marital separation. The reaction left a lasting impression.

“They seemed comforted knowing I wasn’t happier than them,” she recalls.

For SP, the experience revealed something unsettling: bullying sometimes emerges from insecurity rather than confidence. For some adolescents, targeting others becomes a way to reduce feelings of inadequacy or reclaim social control. Students may even join bullying behaviour simply to avoid becoming targets themselves.

When Authority Becomes Harmful

Bullying does not always originate among peers. At times, it emerges from authority itself.

NSK, another psychology postgraduate student, describes her school years as marked not by encouragement but by humiliation. A mathematics teacher repeatedly mocked her inability to solve problems and singled her out in class. On one occasion, she was forced to kneel for hours as punishment.

When she attempted to report the treatment, she was discouraged from escalating the complaint. Teachers, she was told, always act in students’ best interests.

The consequences followed her home. While her mother recognised the emotional harm, her father prioritised academic performance, reinforcing the belief that endurance mattered more than dignity.

Experiences like these illustrate how bullying can become institutionalised when authority figures remain shielded from accountability.

The Cost of Silence

Perhaps the most damaging element of bullying is not the aggression itself but the silence surrounding it.

Many victims choose not to report their experiences out of fear—fear of retaliation, disbelief, or social isolation. Schools may dismiss incidents as harmless teasing or avoid acknowledging them altogether to protect their public image.

The result is a profound sense of loneliness. Students often leave school having learned not confidence or resilience, but survival—how to endure humiliation without expecting intervention.

Social-cognitive research adds another dimension. Some bullies display distorted beliefs about dominance or reduced sensitivity to others’ distress. Others are socially adept, skilfully manipulating peer dynamics to maintain influence. In both cases, silence allows the behaviour to continue unchecked.

Empathy as Intervention

Breaking the cycle of bullying requires more than punishment.

Rashimi Sreedhar, a former kindergarten head, recalls working with a child whose aggressive behaviour emerged after he was placed in a hostel at a very young age. The abrupt separation created intense loneliness and emotional dysregulation that later surfaced as hostility toward classmates.

Rather than responding with strict discipline, RS chose an empathy-centred approach.

When the child hurt others, she calmly expressed disappointment and sadness, even shedding tears. The reaction unsettled him. Later that day, he returned quietly to apologise.

“Instead of punishing him, I showed him how his actions affected someone he cared about,” she explains. “That emotional connection activated responsibility rather than fear.”

The behavioural change, she notes, proved lasting.

Moving Beyond Punishment

Effective responses to bullying must be layered and relational. Punitive measures alone—such as suspensions or public reprimands—rarely address the emotional dynamics underlying aggressive behaviour.

Victims need safe reporting systems, psychological support, and access to counselling. While building resilience is important, responsibility must never be placed solely on those who suffer harm.

Students who engage in bullying behaviour also require intervention—particularly in emotional regulation, empathy development, and conflict resolution. Research consistently shows that programmes emphasising social-emotional learning reduce bullying far more effectively than punishment alone.

Shared Responsibility: Parents, Schools, Systems

Addressing bullying ultimately requires shared responsibility.

Parents play a crucial role in recognising behavioural changes and maintaining open communication with educators. Early warning signs—withdrawal, anxiety, sudden academic decline—should never be dismissed as ordinary adolescence.

Schools, meanwhile, must cultivate cultures of transparency and accountability. Anti-bullying policies cannot remain symbolic documents. They must be actively implemented, applied equally to students, teachers, and administrators.

Peer-led initiatives, restorative practices, and mental health education can empower students to challenge harmful norms rather than silently absorb them.

Breaking Silence, Building Safety

Bullying is rarely the result of individual cruelty alone. It emerges from silence—silence among classmates, silence within institutions, and silence within systems that prioritise comfort over accountability.

Breaking that silence requires courage from everyone involved: educators willing to intervene, parents willing to listen, and institutions willing to confront uncomfortable truths.

When schools choose transparency over protectionism and care over convenience, they can begin to fulfil their most fundamental promise: to be places where children feel safe enough to learn, grow, and belong.

Note: Names of students quoted in this article have been changed to protect their identity and privacy, given the sensitive nature of their experiences.