Click here to subscribe to our Patreon, where you'll get free merch and receive exclusive access to The Pebble, which features Ethan's full monthly column and snippets of The Sweaty Penguin's latest climate solutions stories.
Hey, look, it’s the polar vortex!
It’s easy to say whenever there’s extreme winter weather. In the age of social media, any small talk about a cold snap quickly devolves into “the polar vortex is back” and “this is climate change somehow, right?” I’m guilty of it myself. Mostly because I suck at small talk, but still.
Winter Storm Fern hit at the end of January 2026, stretching from Northern Mexico through the United States and Canada. The storm brought over a foot of snow to much of the country, caused 80 mph winds, a low temperature of -43°F in Minnesota, five tornadoes, and 153 known fatalities. Most importantly, it meant I had to go home on the evening of the 24th and be apart from my partner on our one-year anniversary on the 25th, though we did have the interesting experience of going to the spa in single-digit temperatures on the 24th.
Fun fact: if you get your hair wet in an outdoor hot tub, it will turn into ice. I know that now.
I often encounter a public sentiment suggesting scientists think they know everything and refuse to accept that they might be wrong. The truth couldn’t be more different. Scientists are some of the most curious people I’ve ever met, and are far more interested in sharing what they don’t know than what they do know. If they knew everything, they wouldn’t have a job. And it is precisely their scientific method of asking questions, conducting experiments, gathering data, having peers analyze it, having other scientists replicate the experiment, and very gradually and systematically building knowledge that makes science so remarkably trustworthy. Only after scientists all over the world work together to rule out every possible alternate explanation for a phenomenon will they make a definitive statement, such as “human carbon emissions are the primary driver of climate change” or “climate change poses a serious risk to human well-being.”
When people point to a storm like Fern and say “wow, we could really use some global warming right now,” we can easily refute that statement. Global warming does not eliminate cold winter weather altogether (which is part of the reason why climate change is a more befitting term in the first place). But the opposite mistake is just as tempting: grabbing the catchiest science-y phrase we’ve got — polar vortex — and slapping it on a headline or social media post as shorthand for “climate change made this happen.”
Extreme cold events like Fern are exactly the kind of event people use to decide whether they trust climate science at all. Quick, sensational reactions that lack scientific clarity can do more harm than good. While it’s not wrong to bring up the polar vortex, it’s often the least understood part of the winter climate story. The polar vortex is way up in the stratosphere, and the more straightforward climate links with a storm like Fern are the ones we can measure far closer to the Earth’s surface — a warmer atmosphere and ocean providing more moisture for heavy snow, and a jet stream disruption caused by marine heatwaves that steered bitter cold air south. The polar vortex likely played a role too, but it entails far more uncertainty and complexity than these other links. Climate communicators ought to lead with the clearest and simplest climate connections first, not overcomplicate from the get go.
