On December 3, 2025, two major developments shook the landscape of climate science and environmental policy in the United States. As scientists and policymakers grapple with the mounting costs of climate change, the challenges of invasive species and the reliability of economic forecasts have come under renewed scrutiny. Both issues, though distinct, underscore the immense complexity of understanding and responding to a rapidly changing planet.
According to Inside Climate News, invasive species are costing the United States approximately $21 billion every year. That eye-watering figure is only expected to rise as climate change opens new pathways for non-native plants, animals, fungi, and bacteria to spread. Melting sea ice and longer growing seasons—direct results of global warming—are giving these organisms fresh opportunities to thrive in places where, just a few decades ago, they would never have survived.
But why are these newcomers such a big deal? Invasive species can outcompete native flora and fauna, disrupt established ecosystems, and even threaten commercial agriculture. The infamous spotted lanternfly, for instance, made its way from China to the United States in 2012, likely hitching a ride on a shipment of stone. Since then, as reported by The Guardian and cited in Inside Climate News, the lanternfly has spread to at least 15 states, causing up to $324 million in damages and leading to the loss of 2,800 jobs in Pennsylvania alone. These polka-dotted insects, while seemingly harmless at first glance, have wreaked havoc on trees essential for apple and wine production, as well as those that support countless birds, bats, and reptiles.
And the lanternfly is hardly alone. From Burmese pythons slithering through Florida’s wetlands to brown rats overrunning New Zealand, invasive species are a global headache. In the U.S., most of these invaders are actually plants. Bethany Bradley, an invasive species expert at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, explained to Inside Climate News that non-native species are only labeled “invasive” if they actively harm the broader ecosystem. Many of these plants outcompete their native counterparts because they grow quickly, produce lots of seeds, and adapt more easily to changing conditions.
Bradley co-authored a 2023 study revealing that certain invasive plant species could spread even faster in the Northeastern U.S. as temperatures climb. Some, she warned, are “sleepers”—species that are just barely hanging on, but could become dominant if the climate warms just a bit more. However, there’s a glimmer of hope: her research also found that 62% of currently abundant invasive species might see a decrease in their habitat under a 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit warming scenario. Still, the stakes remain high, with a 2024 study projecting that close to a third of global species could be at risk of extinction if temperatures rise by 2.7 degrees Fahrenheit.
Climate change doesn’t just make it easier for invaders to arrive; it also amplifies their impact. The 2023 wildfire that devastated Lahaina, Hawaii, was made worse by highly flammable, non-native grasses introduced decades ago. These grasses are often the first to return after a fire, perpetuating a destructive cycle. According to the U.S. Geological Survey, other climate impacts—like new shipping routes opening as Arctic ice melts—are also facilitating the spread of invasives.
Early intervention is crucial. Yale researcher Sara Kuebbing told Inside Climate News, “You need someone to identify, ‘Oh no, there’s something that we think is about to take off [and] it’s ready to spread’—and that usually happens. What fails is the institutions and the will a lot of times to contain it at that point.” She pointed to the spotted lanternfly as a cautionary tale: if states had acted together at the first sign of trouble, the invasion might have been contained.
Yet, just as the need for action grows, resources are shrinking. The Trump administration’s budget cuts and policy decisions in 2025 have hampered invasive species research and mitigation efforts. Layoffs at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the rejection of funding proposals for the Northeast Climate Adaptation Science Center have left key projects in limbo. The U.S.-Canadian Great Lakes Fishery Commission, which works to control invasive sea lamprey populations, experienced a five-week delay in 2025 due to these administrative actions. Greg McClinchey, the commission’s director of policy and legislative affairs, told Inside Climate News, “What we know for sure is we can’t have what happened in ’25 happen again in ’26.”
There have been some bright spots: President Trump signed a memorandum in May 2025 to combat invasive Asian carp in the Great Lakes, signaling at least some support for environmental projects. Still, the overall picture is one of uncertainty and, as Bradley put it, “zombie mode.” She lamented, “Basically, we’re not dead, but we’re not alive, and it’s been a weird space. We’re still in this long waiting period of hoping that Congress’ support will ultimately be enough to convince the administration that this is a program that does good things.”
As the U.S. struggles to keep up with the real-world costs of climate change, the scientific community is also wrestling with how best to estimate those costs. On December 3, 2025, the authors of a widely cited study published on April 17, 2024, in Nature retracted their paper after critics raised serious concerns about its data and methodology. The original study, which had projected that climate change would cost $38 trillion annually by 2049 and reduce global GDP by 62% by 2100, came under fire for its use of anomalous datasets, including errors related to Uzbekistan.
Two commentaries published in August 2025 highlighted these flaws. The first noted that the dire GDP projection was “an impact roughly 3 times larger than similar previous estimates.” The second, authored by Christof Schötz of the Technical University of Munich and the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research (PIK), argued that the analysis “underestimates uncertainty … rendering their results statistically insignificant when properly corrected.”
After revisiting their findings, the study’s authors—led by Maximilian Kotz and Leonie Wenz of PIK—posted a revised analysis in August 2025. Their new estimate for income reduction was lowered to 17% after 26 years, down from the original 19%, but they also acknowledged a wider range of uncertainty. “We broadly agree with the issues raised, and have made corrections to the underlying economic data and to our methodology to address them,” the PIK press office said in a statement. The authors plan to submit their revision for peer review.
Nature had already issued a correction in July 2024 for decimal-point errors in the original article. The retraction, the sixth for the journal in 2025, underscores the importance of methodological rigor—especially when the stakes are so high. As Schötz told Retraction Watch, the revised data “still ignores many strong correlations” that could affect the results, especially between regions that are part of the same economic zone.
In a world where both ecological threats and economic risks are mounting, the need for careful science and robust policy has never been more urgent. Whether it’s stopping the next invasive species or accurately forecasting the price tag of climate change, the challenges ahead demand both vigilance and adaptability.
