In a world grappling with the relentless march of climate change, where every new solution is weighed against the clock and our collective carbon footprint, one proposal has set off alarm bells across the scientific community.
Andrew Haverly, a 25-year-old software engineer from Microsoft and a PhD student in quantum computing at the Rochester Institute of Technology, has put forth an idea as bold as it is controversial: detonating a nuclear bomb beneath the ocean floor to enhance carbon sequestration.
Published in January 2025 on arXiv, a well-known online repository for pre-publication research, the paper proposes the use of geoengineering on a colossal scale to address the climate emergency.
Andrew Haverly’s concept, inspired in part by the film Oppenheimer by Christopher Nolan, aims to capitalize on a natural geological process known as Enhanced Rock Weathering (ERW). The proposal centers around the idea that blasting an 81-gigaton nuclear device beneath the seafloor of the remote Kerguelen Plateau in the Southern Ocean could crush underwater basalt formations and thereby accelerate the ocean’s natural ability to absorb carbon dioxide.
The goal? To trap up to three decades’ worth of global carbon emissions in the form of stable mineral compounds. But while the proposal has drawn attention for its audacity, it has also been widely condemned as reckless, potentially dangerous, and an example of misguided techno-optimism.
An Idea Born from Nuclear Fascination and Geological Theory
Andrew Haverly’s proposal is steeped in a deep fascination with the potential of nuclear technology. Citing inspiration from Nolan’s portrayal of J. Robert Oppenheimer—the physicist who led the Manhattan Project and fathered the atomic bomb—Haverly has argued that the destructive force of nuclear energy could be reimagined in the fight against global warming. He sees in the atom not a weapon of war, but a tool for planetary survival.
The core of his paper centers on ERW, a natural process in which carbon dioxide in the atmosphere reacts with certain types of rock, particularly silicate minerals such as basalt, forming stable carbonate compounds that lock the carbon away for millennia. Traditionally, this process takes thousands of years, but scientists have speculated that it could be accelerated by spreading powdered basalt on land or in the ocean.
Andrew Haverly proposes to supercharge this process by using a nuclear detonation to pulverize vast amounts of basalt rock beneath the seafloor. The location he chose—the Kerguelen Plateau—was likely selected for its remoteness and the depth of surrounding waters, between 6 and 8 kilometers.
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Detonating the bomb at a depth of 3 to 5 kilometers beneath the seabed, he argues, would unleash massive seismic force while minimizing fallout, and create a new layer of highly reactive mineral surfaces ideal for CO₂ absorption.
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According to Haverly, the carbon-trapping potential of such a geoengineering event would be enormous, theoretically offsetting 30 years of current global CO₂ emissions. The idea is to spark a planetary-scale natural reaction using a singular, albeit immense, human action.
Scientific Concerns and Ethical Dilemmas
While the paper attracted attention for its radical scope, it has also been met with deep skepticism and concern from climate scientists, environmental researchers, and sustainability experts. Chief among these critics is Wim Carton, Associate Professor at Lund University and co-author of Overshoot: How the World Surrendered to Climate Breakdown.
In interviews discussing the paper, Carton described the concept as “extreme and perilous,” underscoring how little the proposal considers the broader ecological, geological, and radiological consequences of such an action. One of the most glaring omissions in Andrew Haverly’s proposal, according to Carton and others, is the lack of assessment regarding the potential damage to marine ecosystems.
The Southern Ocean, while remote, is home to a complex and largely unexplored array of sea life. The impact of a nuclear detonation on such biodiversity would be catastrophic and irreversible. The marine ecosystems could be destabilized permanently, with radiation and seismic disruption destroying both the biological and chemical integrity of ocean life.
Additionally, the Kerguelen Plateau lies in a seismically sensitive region. Detonating a bomb of this magnitude in or near a tectonic boundary could trigger undersea earthquakes or even tsunamis, with consequences that could reach distant coastlines. The potential for radioactive leakage into ocean currents, which travel the globe, also poses a serious threat.
Beyond the environmental consequences, critics argue that such an approach perpetuates a dangerous form of climate escapism: the belief that humanity can continue its destructive habits while looking to miracle solutions to mop up the damage.
Carton warned that techno-fixes like this offer false hope and may be weaponized by fossil fuel interests to delay meaningful reductions in greenhouse gas emissions. In this light, Haverly’s bomb becomes not a tool of salvation but a symbol of denial.
Echoes of the Atomic Age: Revisiting Old Fantasies with New Justifications
Haverly’s proposal, while novel in its justification, is not entirely unprecedented in concept. During the 1950s and 60s, at the height of Cold War nuclear experimentation, the U.S. and Soviet Union entertained numerous proposals to use nuclear bombs for peacetime applications—ranging from creating new harbors to rerouting rivers and melting Arctic ice.
These ideas, collectively branded under programs such as Project Plowshare in the United States, ultimately failed due to their unpredictable and often devastating environmental side effects.
The notion of using nuclear explosions to terraform the Earth was eventually abandoned not just for its ecological recklessness, but because of the unpredictable behavior of large-scale detonations in complex natural systems. Radiation exposure, underground fallout, and the potential triggering of natural disasters all proved too risky. Despite these historical lessons, Haverly appears to be reviving the idea with a 21st-century spin: saving the planet instead of conquering it.
But critics argue that even with modern scientific understanding, the fundamental dangers remain. The sheer unpredictability of detonating an 81-gigaton bomb—roughly 5,000 times more powerful than the one dropped on Hiroshima—beneath the Earth’s crust is a nightmare for geophysicists. Even if the detonation is technically feasible, the collateral damage could be incalculable. The idea, they say, reads more like science fiction than responsible climate strategy.
Haverly’s attempt to combine cutting-edge climate science with Cold War-era bombast reveals a growing trend among some technologists: a willingness to gamble with extreme solutions in the face of existential threat. His defenders might argue that desperate times call for desperate measures, but for many scientists, the line between bold innovation and dangerous fantasy is one that must not be crossed.
In many ways, Haverly’s proposal serves as a mirror reflecting society’s desperation in the face of a rapidly deteriorating climate. It highlights how even the most well-intentioned minds may be tempted by drastic, headline-grabbing ideas when the political and social will to implement safer, systemic changes remains weak.
But the danger of such proposals lies not just in their impracticality or risks. They shift the conversation away from the urgent, collective action needed to reduce emissions, transition to renewable energy, and protect biodiversity. Instead, they dangle the illusion of a silver bullet—a singular, scientific savior that spares us the harder path of behavioral and economic transformation.
As the planet heats and time grows short, the temptation of geoengineering will only increase. But if Haverly’s nuclear vision teaches us anything, it’s that not all solutions are created equal. Some, no matter how creative or well-intentioned, may lead us further from the world we hope to save.