海角大神

To view the south Louisiana coast from 2,000 feet above is to peer at the conflict between nature and humankind. Lush coastal colors 鈥撀爃ues of brown, green, and saltwater blue 鈥撀燽lend beneath the small-engine plane being used for an environmental tour. An occasional oil sheen glistens between patches of disappearing marshland, leaks from the pipelines buried beneath the shallow seafloor. Here, at the Gulf of Mexico鈥檚 door, one can truly appreciate its beauty.聽聽

Humankind鈥檚 touch is evident 鈥� from the way an engineered Mississippi River has enabled coastal erosion to the presence of oil spills and sea level rise.聽聽

The Bayou State is at a crossroads. The risk posed by storms, like Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and Ida last year, is increasing due to the rise in atmospheric greenhouse emissions, scientists say. Yet almost a quarter of the state鈥檚 gross domestic product and more than 1 in 10 of its workers are connected to聽the oil and gas industry, according to the American Petroleum Institute.聽

All this underscores the significance of a move this past January, when Louisiana Gov. John Bel Edwards announced that a state task force had approved a climate action plan 鈥� the first such action by a state in the South. The goal is to steer a course toward net-zero greenhouse聽emissions by 2050.聽

鈥淚 feel like we could hit it if we want to,鈥� says Kendall Dix, national policy director at the Gulf Coast Center for Law and Policy, referring to the 2050 deadline. 鈥淲e could probably hit it early, if we wanted to, and if there鈥檚 the political will.鈥�

That is an open question, given that implementing some of the key measures will hinge on the legislature and future governors in a state that generally leans toward the Republican Party 鈥� which isn鈥檛 known for climate urgency.

Still, the plan鈥檚 announcement suggests a good measure of support, since the task force represented聽stakeholders from the petrochemical industry to environmental groups to urban planners.聽To many here, pure economic interests alone call for action on climate change and its effects on the state.

The tug of coastal flood risks

And聽the plan didn鈥檛 just appear out of the blue,聽says Virginia Burkett, chief scientist for climate and land use change at the U.S. Geological Survey and a member of Louisiana鈥檚 Climate Initiatives Task Force.聽

Quietly, Louisiana has been adapting to climate change for nearly two decades. That work has been produced through the state鈥檚 coastal Trojan horse 鈥撀燼 50-year, $50 billion coastal master plan that acts as a coastal restoration wish list, for which Louisiana lawmakers meet every six years to allocate funds for restoration projects. Legislators convene again in 2023.

鈥淲e didn鈥檛 call it climate change adaptation, but Louisiana has focused on nature-based coastal protection since the first Coastal Master Plan鈥� in 2007, after Hurricane Katrina, Dr. Burkett says. 鈥淟ouisiana has been a pioneer in that regard.鈥澛犅�

But at the same time, the sheer scale of the state鈥檚 oil and gas industry continued to set it apart. Nearly two-thirds of the state鈥檚 carbon emissions (61%) come from its industrial sector, Louisiana State University鈥檚 Center for Energy Studies found last year. The researchers noted that Louisiana鈥檚 emissions rates were nearly three times the national average.聽

Another way to put it: Louisiana ranks 25th among the states in population, but fifth in emissions.聽

That鈥檚 where Louisiana鈥檚 climate action plan comes into play.聽The plan鈥檚 final form combines 80 policy actions framed around three pillars: an expedited shift to renewable wind and solar energy rather than fossil fuels, running more industrial processes by electric power, and switching from carbon to hydrogen-based fuels for the industrial sector.聽

Though the task force鈥檚 action so far is notable, it lacks means to enforce follow-through on its long-term vision and goals, says Mark Davis, director of Tulane University鈥檚 Institute on Water Resources Law and Policy.聽

鈥淭he plan tells you聽what聽to do, but it doesn鈥檛 tell聽you what will work,鈥� Dr. Davis adds. 鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 tell you how much time we have.鈥澛�

鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of stuff coming at us鈥�

Time is of the essence not just in Louisiana鈥檚 coastal communities, but across the entire region. After Hurricanes聽Laura and Delta struck southwest Louisiana in 2020, the city of Lake Charles saw the nation鈥檚 highest out-migration. Small towns across the southern Louisiana coast, where the state鈥檚 iconic commercial fishing community is a $1 billion industry, are vulnerable to a similar fate.聽

鈥淭here鈥檚 a multitude of factors鈥� as to why households might leave communities in the low-lying region, Dr. Davis says. 鈥淏ut one is that communities and local employers cannot adjust鈥� to an expanding cost of doing business. Lost time due to natural disasters and their fallout is difficult to make up 鈥撀燼nd living costs, including聽flood insurance premiums, will likely keep rising.聽聽

鈥淓ven if we got to net-zero tomorrow, there鈥檚 a lot of stuff coming at us,鈥� Dr. Davis says.聽

Even getting there by 2050 is a tall order in this or any state.聽

Mr. Edwards is the South鈥檚 only Democratic governor, and he鈥檚 in his second and final term due to the state鈥檚 term limits. Who succeeds him in a wide-open 2023 campaign 鈥撀燼nd inherits responsibility for the plan鈥檚 climate goals 鈥撀爎emains unclear.聽

鈥淲e know that鈥檚 going to have devastating consequences for people,鈥� says Mr. Dix at the Gulf Coast Center for Law and Policy, referring to the global stakes of missing targets such as those set for the world聽in the 2015 Paris Agreement. 鈥淏ut we also know that we have to keep fighting for emissions reductions no matter what, because [holding temperature change to] 3 degrees is better than 4 degrees, 2 degrees is better than 3, and 1.75 is better than 2.鈥澛�

Under any circumstances, experts say the state鈥檚 economy and society face significant changes.

鈥淚t will be a fundamentally different coastal Louisiana in the future,鈥� Dr. Davis says. But goals like a climate action plan could allow 鈥渁n aspect of it to remain functional and recognizable.鈥澛�