This raises a question: Given that careful cost estimates that incorporate all the data about humidity, temperature, human physiology, cost of air conditioning, and so on generally top out at a maximum increase of 6°C, where do the estimates from an ultimate warming of 11.5°C come from? The answer is extrapolation: a curve is fitted to the estimates for 0°C–6°C and is then extended out to 11.5°C. It is not extrapolated linearly but assumes that the amount of curvature in the 0°C–6°C range will continue into the higher temperatures.
Large warming and migration / How seriously should we take the damage estimates for relatively large warming of 8°C–12°C? Weitzman, who is generally well-received by climate activists, has argued that the consequences could be far worse than the extrapolations, although he does not provide evidence of why this might be the case. In assessing the consequences of climate change, it is important to realize that no matter how badly climate change affects one location — e.g., flooding, heat, extreme climate events — there are other locations not subject to those problems. As climate change worsens circumstances in some locations, it will improve them in others; stretches of the American South may become less hospitable, but stretches of Canada will become more so. And people can move from the less hospitable to the more hospitable.
However, some people warn, at some scale, social and economic systems will no longer be able to cope with masses of migrants and we will face a human catastrophe — think of how relatively minor migration riles much of the developed world today. In part because of this concern, Weitzman believes the economic loss at 12°C might be 99% — that is, virtually all of GDP. In contrast, Nordhaus estimates that a 12°C warming would yield a loss of around 30% — a giant loss to be sure, but not the catastrophe that Weitzman suggests.
So, will climate-change-driven migration unleash societal collapse 150 years from now? That seems unlikely because the annual rate of migration from warming should be slow. Temperature change is gradual. Look back at Figure 1: even at the extreme end of SSP5–8.5, it will take two centuries to move into the 8°C–12°C range. Climate-driven migration would thus be just a small fraction of the across-borders flow of people seeking better living circumstances. If moving into the 8°C–12°C range means that half of the world population will ultimately relocate, that corresponds to a migration rate of just 0.33% per year. That is similar in magnitude to the migration from rural to urban areas that took place in the 20th century. That migration took place unevenly, in ebbs and surges, with both steady flows of people seeking better economic circumstances and surges of people escaping crop and price failures. It is true that a climate migration is likely to be from one urban area to another, but the social and economic costs of relocation — the disruption of life, the cost of transportation, the cost of building infrastructure (houses, workplaces, factories, offices, roads, sanitation, schools, hospitals, and on and on) — are the same regardless of where the immigrants come from. And while most of the 20th century rural-to-urban migration took place over modest distances, some took place between continents — from Europe and Asia to the Americas — at great hardship. Today, modern transportation is not a significant bottleneck: prior to COVID-19, every year commercial airlines carried about four billion people, about half the earth’s population.
Let’s briefly consider the history of rural-to-urban migration in the second half of the 20th century. In 1950, world rural population was almost 1.8 billion and urban population about 751 million. In 2000, the rural population grew to almost 3.3 billion and the urban population to almost 2.9 billion. This means that while world population grew about 1.8% per year, rural population grew only 1.2% per year. It has long been known that birth rates in rural areas are higher than in urban areas, so at least 0.36% of the world’s population migrated from rural to urban areas each year. This migration is similar to projected levels for extreme climate scenarios. Yet, the 20th century rural-to-urban migration did not create society-disrupting hardship: during the same period, per-capita income doubled.
To understand the issues that arise with migration more concretely, consider the situation in Manila, Philippines, a place where climate change is likely to have a major effect because of the city’s low elevation next to the Bay of Manila. Philippines has many smaller cities and towns in the highlands that will likely be the target destination for future Manila emigrees. There is nothing amazing about a small town growing to the size of Manila over a period of many decades. For example, Sao Paulo, Brazil grew from a population of about 65,000 in 1890 to 6 million in 1970 and has nearly doubled in size since then. Moreover, many of the immigrants who drove this growth were not Brazilian, but from Italy and Japan. While the rapid growth of Sao Paulo has created some social problems, the city is thriving.
In Bangladesh, another place where low elevation and adjacency to the Bay of Bengal makes it especially vulnerable to climate change, the situation is more complicated. There are cooler highlands nearby: the Eastern Himalayas (not the jagged peaks, but the area south of the tall ranges, an area of rolling hills — the “hill stations” where the British Raj fled the hot Indian summers). But there is a complication here: this appealing cool region is in India and Myanmar. Cross-border immigrants are often unwelcome, and escaping refugees even less so. It is not likely that India and Myanmar will embrace Bangladeshis seeking a cooler environment.
As part of the costs of climate change, economists must consider the costs of future political conflict — and even warfare — from migration. Existing research has reached mixed conclusions about whether climate change increases or decreases conflict in the broad sense, and these costs are not currently included in damage estimates. However, more detailed assessments — for example, combining information about probable paths of migration and data about the effects of migration on conflict — should be possible, and their results will affect our policy decisions about climate change.
This political dimension of migration is an important one. Some institutions cope better than others and some countries and regions are more welcoming to immigrants than others. We see today throughout the world a rising tide of nationalism and xenophobia. Mixed with immigration driven by climate change, this combination has the potential to be explosive. Still, we should not be misled by the current attitude of many rich countries toward immigrants: while there was enormous political turmoil in the European Union over the immigration of a million or so Syrian refugees last decade, Jordan — with a population of less than 10 million — absorbed at least that many refugees over a few short years. Over 10% of the population of Jordan are recent arrivals, yet no social catastrophe has resulted.
It is also important to ask questions about tradeoffs and factor them into our economic analysis. Will richer immigrants be more welcome than poorer ones? Will countries with growing incomes be more hospitable to immigrants than stagnant ones? Is effort better invested in mitigating climate change or in fighting xenophobia and promoting economic growth?
Fortunately, the possibility of 12°C warming and resulting huge damages is small. In particular, the estimates of economists have meaning because the scale of events expected from future global warming are not beyond the bounds of our experience. Even the most catastrophic climate events have human consequences well within the realm of what we know.
Tipping / A criticism of economic damage assessments is that they do not take account of the possibility of “tipping”: that warming will trigger a series of irreversible negative events. Three types of tipping events are often cited: runaway glacier melt, runaway greenhouse effect, and what is known as the “hothouse earth” hypothesis.
Reducing an unknown but small chance of disaster by an unknown amount is a difficult guide to policy. Yet, concerns about tipping strengthen the case for action.
Economic models factor in these cataclysmic events only insofar as the IPCC climate models do so, and these IPCC models do not show much effect of tipping points. So, what is the science of tipping and how worried should we be about it?
Let’s first consider runaway glacier melt in Antarctica and Greenland, resulting in a much faster rise in sea level than is anticipated in IPCC estimates. The most recent IPCC assessment discusses this type of tipping and considers it more likely than earlier assessments, though the probability is still small. As a result, future economic assessments will factor in this possibility. However, it is likely the new estimates will show only a moderate increase in damages, and that increase will still be dwarfed by the beneficial effects of economic growth.
A runaway greenhouse effect would result from a vicious cycle. Warming releases greenhouse gases that have been trapped in the earth, which in turn produce more warming that results in more gas release. The earth’s atmosphere could reach a carbon dioxide concentration similar to Venus, at 95%, and the temperature would rise into the hundreds of degrees. This would certainly put an end to human life and probably all life on earth.
The runaway greenhouse idea has been studied by astrobiologists who have posed roughly the following question: If we were to burn all the coal on earth, would that be enough to trigger a runaway greenhouse? As the earth is quite different from Venus — not least in that we receive a lot less solar radiation — these experts believe this probably can’t happen here, but they aren’t sure. Fortunately, there is agreement that no level of carbon that we are likely to emit is nearly enough to trigger a runaway greenhouse.
The hothouse earth hypothesis is based on the theory that, in the past, the earth’s climate was unstable, switching between hotter and cooler periods. The fear is this could happen again in the future, making carbon increases self-sustaining. But, unlike a runaway greenhouse, there are also countervailing forces, so that while the temperature would increase, it would do so only to a limited extent. The question is, how quickly would the temperature increase and to what extent? A 2018 PNAS article by Steffen et al. offers some detailed estimates. The period over which this change might take place is unclear. Historically, these transitions took thousands of years, but the triggering rate of climate change was much less then, so perhaps such a climate-change-driven transition would be much faster and fall within the 100-to-200-year period we are assessing. The Steffen article indicates that tipping into the hothouse earth scenario would lead to a temperature increase over pre-industrial levels of about 4.5°C. This is well within the range for which we have damage estimates, and these estimates on the high end are less than 15%. Again, that would be a Great Depression–level economic loss that we should want to mitigate, but it is one that would be dwarfed by the overall economic growth.
What do these grim scenarios mean for economic damage assessments? Increasingly, the assessments are accounting for some probability of a catastrophe. The problem is that reducing an unknown but small chance of disaster by an unknown amount is a difficult guide to policy. Nevertheless, concerns about tipping strengthen the case for sensible action to mitigate warming.
The Risk of Climate Change and the Reason to Mitigate It
It should now be clear that there is a great deal of risk involved with climate change. As Figure 4 indicates, our best estimate of the damages from 3.5°C of warming is a loss of anywhere from 0% to 12% of per-capital GDP. From Figure 1’s SSP2–4.5, the temperature increase in 2200 is likely to be 2.5°C–4°C.
There are, of course, considerable uncertainties in these estimates. The uncertainty allows for two kinds of policy mistakes: we could overestimate the loss (say, we could expect 4°C of warming, resulting in a 12% output loss, when there is only 2.5°C warming and 0% loss) or underestimate it (vice-versa). Doing the former would lead us to costly mitigation policies that would ultimately prove unneeded, while the latter could lead us to do nothing when, in fact, we should have taken steps to combat climate change.
Economists John Hassler et al. provide a careful analysis of these mistakes in a 2018 Annual Review of Economics article. The authors assume that, to mitigate climate change, humanity adopts a “Pigouvian tax” on the use of carbon — a tax intended to inflict an additional cost on the consumer that equals the estimated cost of the negative externalities from climate change. (See “The Pigou Problem,” Summer 2008.) In Figure 5, the curves depict the loss that would occur if one or the other of the two mistakes is made. The horizontal axis is time, running from 2010 to 2200. The vertical axis is consumption loss, which is roughly the same thing as damages, but computed from a dynamic emissions model.
One curve shows what happens if humanity assumes the worst and adopts a high carbon tax, but in fact there was little danger from warming and no loss of per-capita GDP. In that case, we’ll have wasted resources combating what ends up not being a problem. Fortunately, the cost of this is low. The other curve shows what happens if humanity assumes it does not need to mitigate climate change and things turn out for the worst. The curve rises quickly and neither our children nor grandchildren will thank us for that. The choice is pretty clear: it isn’t costly to prepare for the worst, so we should do that. If we don’t, we may get lucky and things turn out for the best, but then again — whatever you think of the IPCC and climate science — unless you are totally gaga, you have to believe there is a chance they are right.