How to Stay in the Climate Spotlight – Watts Up With That?

Charles Rotter

It’s hard not to notice when Michael Mann’s name appears in the author list of a climate paper—after all, he’s about as synonymous with climate alarm as Al Gore is with PowerPoint slides. One could say spotting his name in a paper about “intensification of the strongest nor’easters” is like finding Waldo in a crowd where everyone’s wearing a red-and-white striped shirt—inevitable, but somehow still amusing.

To the meat of the matter: this paper by Chen et al., published in PNAS in July 2025, claims that the strongest nor’easters affecting the U.S. East Coast are not only getting stronger in terms of maximum wind speed, but also producing more precipitation over time, especially since 1940. Naturally, this finding is attributed to—you guessed it—“a warming world,” though, as is tradition, the underlying uncertainties and methodological sleights-of-hand are tucked away in the statistical shadows.

The paper leans heavily on reanalysis data (ERA5, 1940–2025) and cyclone tracking algorithms to cobble together a historical record, touting its “homogeneity” and “comprehensiveness.” Yet, buried within the technical details, there is acknowledgment that models and data sources are patchy at best, especially in the pre-satellite era—a recurring Achilles’ heel in this field. Indeed, the authors admit:

“The precise significance levels vary depending on the choice of statistical test, time interval, and effective storm radius… Of specific potential concern is the sensitivity of the trend to changes in input data sources during the transition from traditional surface and radiosonde observations in the early part of the record to multisensor observations in later years. However, we find that the trends of interest are even greater in magnitude… if confined entirely to the satellite era (1979–2025)…”

In other words: the “clear finding” that nor’easters are becoming more intense is more “clear” the shorter and more satellite-heavy the dataset. It’s a bit like insisting your cooking skills are improving because you swapped out a foggy bathroom mirror for an Instagram filter—suddenly everything looks better, but is it really you that changed, or the tool?

The authors do recognize the ambiguity and the wobbly ground their conclusions stand on. Previous studies, as they admit, have reached everything from “no significant change in median cyclone intensity,” to a decrease, or an increase.

“There is, as a result of these confounding factors, considerable divergence in future projections of ETC intensity in past studies, with findings ranging from no significant change in median cyclone intensity, to a decrease, or an increase.”

This is climate science in a nutshell: if you don’t like the answer, wait for another model run.

Quantile regression, the paper’s statistical hammer of choice, is used to hunt for trends in the upper tail of nor’easter intensity. The median shows no significant trend—no surprise—but the “upper quantiles” (think: the rare, nasty storms) show a “statistically significant” upward blip. Here, “significant” is a term of art, stretched nearly to the breaking point. As the authors write:

“Trends… become statistically significant at P < 0.10 for quantiles above 0.66. A similarly pronounced increasing trend at higher quantiles is also evident when applying the Mann–Kendall trend analysis… the results overall lead to a clear finding: the strongest nor’easters are becoming stronger.”

A P-value of 0.10, in case anyone’s forgotten, means there’s a 10% chance the result is due to random noise. For comparison, most scientific disciplines would require P < 0.05 (or even lower). Here, we’re invited to hang public policy on a confidence threshold that wouldn’t pass muster in most reputable poker games.

Then there’s the matter of reanalysis data, which the authors themselves acknowledge is a stitched-together Frankenstein’s monster of models and sparse measurements, especially in the first half of the twentieth century. If this is the bedrock for billion-dollar policy decisions, it’s no wonder taxpayers feel seasick.

The study’s discussion pivots to a familiar script, predicting more damage, more floods, and (curiously) “the counterintuitive possibility of increased winter cold air outbreaks in regions neighboring the U.S. East Coast.” It seems global warming, much like a Las Vegas magician, can pull any outcome from its hat—hotter, colder, drier, wetter, all roads lead to Rome.

And let’s not overlook the obligatory economic scare numbers:

“The total economic loss from [the Ash Wednesday storm, 1962] was estimated at approximately $3 billion (1962 USD). When adjusted for inflation, a storm of similar magnitude striking today would result in losses exceeding $21 billion (2010 USD)… Accounting for inflation, that would be equivalent to $31 billion, which is in proportion to the typical cost of a major landfalling hurricane.”

One almost expects the next sentence to warn of a biblical plague of frogs, with losses adjusted for inflation.

Now, about Michael Mann: his presence on this author list is not just a punchline, it’s a calling card. Mann, famous for the “hockey stick” graph that gave Al Gore a PowerPoint and generations of schoolchildren nightmares, has become something of a celebrity meteorologist—equal parts scientist, activist, and legal enthusiast. If his name’s on it, you can bet the conclusion will be that weather is getting worse, and humanity is to blame. It’s less a finding than a branding strategy.

Yet, let’s give credit where due. The authors stop short of outright libel or slander against skeptics, which is more than can be said for certain climate “debates” on social media. Instead, the rhetorical force is channeled into statistical acrobatics and economic extrapolations. The real comedy here is not in the intent to deceive, but in the perennial hope that just one more regression, one more reanalysis, will finally clinch the case for “unprecedented” danger.

In summary, this paper offers a case study in climate science as performance art. There’s an obligatory nod to uncertainty, a parade of statistical significance at thresholds so generous even carnival barkers might blush, and a supporting cast led by Michael Mann, the maestro of the climate anxiety industrial complex. For policymakers and the public, the lesson is simple: always read the fine print—and if the numbers look scary, check who’s holding the calculator.

HT/rhs

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