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Rural land cover surrounding a city has the potential to reduce the “urban heat island” (UHI) effect and cool the city centre by more than 0.5C, new research shows.
While heatwaves around the world are becoming more frequent and intense because of human-caused warming, they are made even more severe in cities by the UHI effect, which traps heat in urban areas and keeps them warmer than their rural surroundings.
The study, published in Nature Cities, analyses 20 years of data from 30 cities in China and finds that a ring of rural land around a city can bring the urban temperature down. A buffer ring that is at least half the city’s width can have the biggest cooling effect.
To optimise the land cover and reduce the UHI intensity, the authors recommend “joining up patches of rural land, planting more woodland around a city and having fewer, bigger lakes”.
Previous work on mitigating the UHI effect has mostly “focused on strategies that seek solutions within the city limits”, the study says.
However, a co-author tells Carbon Brief that as urban land is often limited, the findings show that making changes to land use “outside a city can make a big difference to temperatures downtown”.
Urban heat dome
Temperatures in cities are consistently higher than in the surrounding countryside due to the heat-trapping properties of urban infrastructure. Closely packed buildings, heat-absorbing surfaces, such as concrete, and human activity, such as driving cars, all contribute to the urban heat island effect (UHI).
The specific difference between the hotter city and cooler countryside is known as the UHI “intensity”. In London in summer, estimates suggest the temperature inside the city is an average of 5C more than surrounding rural areas at night and 3C more during the day.
In comparison, natural landscapes, such as trees or water bodies, can reduce surrounding temperatures through shade and water evaporation. Adding more green spaces inside a city can help to cool it down, but research shows the effects are generally limited without significant and well-distributed coverage.
Prof Shi-Jie Cao, director of the Center for Sustainable Built Environment at the School of Architecture, Southeast University in China and visiting professor at the University of Surrey’s Global Centre for Clean Air Research (GCARE), is a co-author on the new study. He tells Carbon Brief that “urban land is precious and limited” for heat mitigation strategies within cities. He continues:
“This study presents the first comprehensive quantification of how rural land cover mitigates the UHI and opens new avenues for addressing high-temperature urban catastrophes”.
Higher temperatures in cities lead to the formation of a “heat dome”, roughly twice the size of the city boundary, the study says.
The diagram below shows how hotter (red) and colder air (blue) circulate through the dome. Cooler breezes from the neighbouring rural areas around the city blow into the urban centre, exchanging heat within the dome.
UHIs also exacerbate the effect of heatwaves, which are becoming more likely and more severe due to climate change. This increases the vulnerability of the more than 4.5 billion people living in urban regions globally.
Dr Eunice Lo, a researcher of climate change, extreme weather and human health at the University of Bristol, explained in a 2020 Carbon Brief guest post:
“Urban inhabitants can be more susceptible to heat-related illnesses and deaths in hot summers because of the UHI effect.”
Cooling green ring
Vegetation is often sparse in cities, typically becoming more plentiful away from the city centre. The study investigates how the location and type of rural land cover affects the temperature within the city.
The researchers model the land inside the heat dome with concentric rings, investigating the relationships between land cover and temperature in different zones.
Using satellite images of 30 major cities in China, the authors categorise the rural land cover into four types represented by colours in the rural area below – woodland (green), cropland (yellow), and water body (blue) and impervious surface (brown).
By changing variables including the size, diversity and fragmentation of the different land cover types in computer simulations of the environment, the study evaluates which variables have the biggest effects on UHI intensity and by how much they can reduce the temperature.
The authors divide up the landscape into “patches” – areas of land that differ from their surroundings. The size and fragmentation of the patches are “pivotal factors”, each with the potential to individually lower city temperatures by 0.5C, the study finds, noting that larger, less fragmented rural land patches produce a greater cooling effect.
Cao tells Carbon Brief that, in theory, this result means that by optimising both factors, UHI could be reduced by as much as 1C. However, he says the analysis does not account for “slight overlaps in the heat island mitigation effects among different landscape parameters”.
The authors also analyse how land cover at different distances from the urban boundary affects UHI intensity. They find that the best cooling effects come from the rural ring “within a 10-15 km radius from the urban boundary”. This range sits inside the heat dome, meaning the air flow and exchange of heat is most effective at these distances.
Rural land within this range can “contribute up to a 30% reduction of UHI intensity”, with the most significant cooling felt at the very centre of the city, the study finds.
To achieve these levels of reduction, “synergistic regulation” that coordinates best practices for multiple land management factors is needed, Cao tells Carbon Brief. Explaining the paper’s recommendations on how to effectively manage the rural buffer zone, he said in a press release:
“We found that urban overheating was mitigated more by joining up patches of rural land, planting more woodland scattered around a city, and by having fewer, bigger lakes rather than lots of little bodies of water.”
Global relevance
The study focuses on cities in China that exceed 200 square kilometres and have a single centre, so they could be more easily categorised into concentric rings according to urban population density.
While most of the cities selected – including Shanghai, Wuhan and Chengdu – experience a subtropical monsoon climate zone, the paper suggests that “the majority of mitigation strategies identified in China are transferrable to different climate zones”.
Consequently, the researchers claim the findings have “relatively high generalisability and applicability in different cities”, but advise that future research should investigate cities of “different shapes, development levels, geographical locations and climatic conditions”.
Dr Chloe Brimicombe – a climate science and extreme heat researcher at the University of Graz in Austria and visiting fellow at LSE’s Grantham Research Institute, who is not affiliated with the research – says the study could be improved by “adjusting more carefully for the climate of each city”. She adds:
“Small differences in elevation or proximity to the coast can influence the UHI effect. In addition, cities have different designs; if such a study was reproduced for Europe this could also be taken into account.”
Temperatures are rising across the globe, with 2024 now very likely to be the hottest year on record. Study co-author Prof Prashant Kumar, founding director of the University of Surrey’s GCARE and co-director of Surrey’s Institute of Sustainability, adds in the press release:
“We hope planners and governments can use our findings to help urban communities become more resilient against rising global temperatures. Our findings show that if we want to cool our cities down, we need a joined-up approach between urban and rural planning.”
The post Rural ‘buffer ring’ can reduce urban heat island effect by more than 0.5C appeared first on Carbon Brief.
Rural ‘buffer ring’ can reduce urban heat island effect by more than 0.5C
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An older teaching about land acknowledgement
As I have come to understand the spirit and intention of land acknowledgement, I often return to fond memories of my grandmother and her words of wisdom. She taught that the health of the places we call home comes first, because the wellbeing of the people depends on it.
In her teaching, land acknowledgement began with the land. Long before it became a paragraph read at the start of a meeting, it was a way of recognizing a homeland: its waters, its species, its seasons, and the spirit that revealed whether the place was well.
Her teaching echoes a practice found across many Indigenous Nations. Haudenosaunee gatherings, for example, have long opened with the Ohén:ton Karihwatéhkwen, the Thanksgiving Address, often translated as “the words that come before all else.” The speaker greets and gives thanks to the people, the earth, the waters, the plants, the animals, the winds, the sun, the moon and the stars. Only after everything that sustains life has been acknowledged does the gathering turn to its own business.
That order changes what an acknowledgement is for. Its purpose was to share the story of a place with neighbours and to draw them into the work of tending it. People entered the story second, as the ones responsible for what had just been named.
Understood this way, an acknowledgement does more than open a meeting. It asks us to reconsider where we stand, and what we owe the ground beneath us.
Nations among nations
In her teaching, people are one nation among many. The salmon are a nation. So are the cedars, the bison, the medicine plants, and the pollinators. Each belongs to a place, carries its own responsibilities, and offers gifts no other nation can give.
This idea of kinship runs through many Indigenous philosophies. The phrase “all my relations,” heard in ceremonies and gatherings across Turtle Island, is a reminder that family extends beyond people to the animals, plants, waters and lands that make life possible. Some Indigenous languages carry the same understanding in their grammar, speaking of many plants, animals and natural forces as living beings rather than objects.
Sovereignty, understood through this relationship, is a kind of standing more than a form of control. Each nation belongs fully to its place and carries its share of that place’s life. No nation thrives alone, and none thrives by taking over the whole.
The land is also the source of instruction. Over generations, people watched how a river valley or a stretch of prairie kept itself well: who arrived when, who fed whom, and how much could be taken before the giving stopped. In my grandmother’s telling, those observations became instructions, and those instructions helped shape law and protocol. They guided when to harvest, where to camp, how to enter a neighbour’s territory, and what was owed in return.
Indigenous legal scholars today often describe this as law that comes from the land itself, learned by watching how living systems sustain one another. A plainer name for it is knowing how to live somewhere.
The host and the guest
One of the clearest teachings in this understanding of the world is the relationship between host and guest. My grandmother invited us to recognize that relationship in the lives of plants and animals.
A host prepares the place before anyone arrives. A beaver family dams a stream, and the pond becomes a home for fish, frogs, birds and plants. A fallen tree becomes a nurse log, feeding the next generation of seedlings as it returns to the soil.
A host offers first. A flowering plant sets out nectar. A berry bush ripens fruit. These provisions come in their own season, not whenever a visitor happens to want them.
A host also makes its presence known. Birdsong, scent and the marks left along a trail tell newcomers that a place is already inhabited. The visitor does not arrive in an empty world.
The guest has responsibilities too. A guest attends to the season and to what the place can offer. A guest does not assume that everything within reach is theirs to take. A guest leaves something that helps sustain the relationship.
A bee takes nectar and carries pollen. Read through this teaching, that exchange offers an image of visiting well: receiving a gift while helping the host continue its life.
Many Indigenous harvesting protocols carry the same ethic into daily practice: ask before taking, take only what is needed, offer thanks, and leave enough for others and for the plant or animal to recover.
None of this suggests that every relationship in nature is peaceful or generous. These are ways of seeing responsibilities that people can learn to carry.
Everyone is both
No being is only a host or only a guest.
A tree makes room for other life while depending on soil, water, sunlight, fungi, and relationships beyond itself. People, too, may welcome others into their homes while remaining dependent on the larger homeland that sustains them.
The distinction between host and guest is therefore about roles, not ranks. Everyone receives. Everyone has something to give.
The question is whether the exchange sustains the place.
A visitor who takes without restraint leaves less for those who come next. A host who neglects the place has less to offer. Both have responsibilities, and neither can fulfil them alone.
This is the heart of reciprocity, a principle found across Indigenous philosophies: relationships stay healthy when gifts move in both directions. The Haudenosaunee teaching of the seventh generation extends that exchange across time, asking that decisions made today leave the place well for those not yet born.
Mutual benefit begins here, with the recognition that different beings carry different gifts and obligations.
What people carry forward
My grandmother’s teaching connects these relationships to the ways people meet their neighbours.
The host prepares a place, offers food and rest, and explains where the visitor has arrived. The guest makes themselves known, explains why they have come, listens to the terms of the visit, and brings something in return. The gift may be material. It may also be labour, knowledge, news, or a commitment to help.
Nations around the Great Lakes carried this ethic into treaty. The Dish with One Spoon, an agreement among the Haudenosaunee, Anishinaabe and allied Nations, describes shared hunting grounds as a single dish. Everyone eats from it with one spoon, takes only what they need, leaves enough for others, and keeps the dish clean. The Two Row Wampum, between the Haudenosaunee and European newcomers, shows two vessels travelling side by side on the same river, each keeping its own ways and neither steering the other.
In this understanding, acknowledgement is more than naming the people associated with a territory. It is learning enough about a homeland to behave responsibly within it.
Whose home is this? What sustains it? What laws and agreements guide our presence? What can we receive, and what must we return?
These questions make acknowledgement a relationship rather than a recital.
They also make it diplomatic. A guest who recognizes the host’s homeland recognizes that they have entered a place with its own relationships and responsibilities. A host who welcomes the guest makes room for an encounter governed by those relationships.
Neither arrives without standing. Neither arrives without obligations.
Beginning with place
I write from the shores of the Bay of Quinte. Here, the teaching asks me to begin with the water, the shoreline, and the life they sustain. Before I describe myself, I must attend to where I am.
That does not make people or history less important. It places them within the homeland that gives them meaning. The people, their laws, their agreements, and their responsibilities all belong to the place.
In a time of longer fire seasons, troubled waters, and uncertainty about what the next season will bring, this teaching asks something difficult and useful of us: pay attention before you speak.
An acknowledgement cannot tell the story of a place if the speaker has stopped noticing it.
The land came first. Beginning there again means learning to name what sustains us, and accepting that what sustains us also asks something of us.
By Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock
Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash
The post The Land Came First appeared first on Indigenous Climate Hub.
Carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions from fossil fuels and cement are projected to fall by around 0.4% in 2026 to 38.2bn tonnes of CO2 (GtCO2), according to new figures from the Global Carbon Project.
This guest post is by:
- Dr Zeke Hausfather, Carbon Brief’s climate science contributor
- Prof Pierre Friedlingstein, chair of mathematical modelling of climate systems at the University of Exeter and part of the Global Carbon Project team.
Carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions from fossil fuels and cement are projected to fall by around 0.4% in 2026 to 38.2bn tonnes of CO2 (GtCO2), according to new figures from the Global Carbon Project.
The 21st edition of the annual “global carbon budget” report, published today, says that this small decline is largely due to a 1.9% drop in emissions from oil and the energy shock triggered by the Iran conflict and the closure of the strait of Hormuz.
Emissions from coal continue to increase slightly.
The Global Carbon Project’s projections for fossil fuel and cement CO2 emissions in 2026 are preliminary, with a range that spans a fall of -1.5% to a rise of +0.6%.
This means a small increase in emissions can not be ruled out.
Emissions from land-use change, such as deforestation, are projected to rise in 2026.
This is primarily driven by peat fires and forest degradation in south-east Asia and is linked to the development of a strong El Niño event this year.
As a result, total CO2 emissions from fossil fuels and land use are projected to reach a record high of 43.3GtCO2 in 2026 – marginally above 42.8GtCO2 in 2025.
Research published alongside the report by the same team in Nature Climate Change finds that the growth in solar, wind and electric vehicles (EVs) now offsets around two-thirds of the emissions that would otherwise come from rising energy demand.
However, the deployment of these technologies is not yet enough to push global emissions into a sustained decline, according to the study.
The 2026 global carbon budget report also estimates that:
- Fossil emissions are projected to fall in China (-0.9%), the US (-1.3%) and the EU (-1.5%) in 2026, but rise by 4.4% in India.
- Oil emissions are projected to fall in every major region, with the largest drop in China (-4.6%).
- Land-use emissions averaged 4.9GtCO2 per year over 2016-25, around 21% lower than the decade before.
- Total CO2 emissions (fossil and land-use) grew by an average 0.3% per year over the past decade (2016-25), compared with 1.7% per year over the decade before.
- The remaining carbon budget to limit warming to 1.5C is 150GtCO2, or less than four years of current emissions.
- The land sink in 2025 was the highest on record, rebounding after being weakened during the 2023-24 El Niño. The current El Niño is expected to weaken the land sink in 2027.
- The concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere is set to reach 427.7 parts per million (ppm) in 2026, 54% above pre-industrial levels.
(For more on previous editions of the Global Carbon Project’s annual report, see Carbon Brief’s coverage in 2025, 2024, 2023 and 2022.)
Total emissions edge up as land-use emissions rise
Total global CO2 emissions, which combines fossil fuels and land-use change, are projected to reach a record high of 43.3GtCO2 in 2026, up from 42.8GtCO2 in 2025.
The increase in 2026 comes entirely from a projected rise in land-use emissions, which are more challenging to estimate than fossil emissions.
(The global carbon budget groups emissions from fossil fuels and cement production as “fossil emissions”. Carbon Brief follows this convention throughout this piece.)
If land-use emissions had stayed at 2025 levels, total emissions would have fallen slightly in 2026 to around 42.6GtCO2.
Each edition of the global carbon budget up