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By Ezgi Canpolat, Harvard University 

The oil-dependent world is in crisis. Ship traffic in the Strait of Hormuz – through which more than a quarter of global seaborne oil trade and a fifth of the world’s liquefied natural gas flow – is at a virtual standstill. Oil prices have climbed, briefly topping US$119 a barrel.

The largest release of oil from countries’ strategic reserves in history is under way, in an effort to ease prices. But even so, billions of people are dealing with surging energy prices and spiking food and fertilizer costs. Governments are scrambling for alternatives, too. To reduce energy demand, Sri Lanka has declared every Wednesday a holiday for public officials, Myanmar is limiting private vehicle use to every other day, and Bangladeshi colleges have canceled classes.

Leaders of South Korea and the European Commission have used the current energy crisis to call for accelerating the shift away from fossil fuels and toward homegrown renewable sources. U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres put it plainly in a March 10, 2026, social media post: “There are no price spikes for sunlight and no embargoes on the wind.”

I grew up in a coal-mining town in Turkey. I now study energy transitions across the Middle East and North Africa in a research project I co-lead at Harvard University. I have seen that a country’s desire to increase renewable energy is not the same as a plan to do so.

The very region embroiled in this war reveals that there is not a linear shift from fossil fuels to renewable sources. Rather, there are distinct trajectories, driven by energy dependence, fiscal pressures, governance and stability. Disruption at the Strait of Hormuz does not mean the same thing in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, as it does in Ankara, Turkey, or Baghdad, Iraq.

The petrostates hedging both sides

For Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Qatar, this crisis is a warning dressed as a windfall.

Oil prices have surged, which in theory means higher revenues. But the very infrastructure that produces and delivers that wealth is under direct attack. Iran has targeted oil refineries and shipment centers across the Gulf. The Strait of Hormuz closure is simultaneously choking off their ability to get product to market, exposing how vulnerable the infrastructure of fossil fuel wealth can be.

All three countries have also committed to boosting renewable energy production. In Saudi Arabia, for example, the government aims for renewable energy sources to account for 50% of electricity generation by 2030, up from just 3% at the end of 2023.

Saudi Arabia’s biggest group of clean energy companies has pledged to spend $17 billion on solar and wind – across all their projects, spread out over several years.

But those efforts sit alongside vastly larger investments in fossil fuel production. In 2025 alone, the country’s nationally owned oil company, Saudi Aramco, spent $52.2 billion building new oil and gas infrastructure.

This is not a contradiction. It is a strategy built on the assumption that the world will keep buying fossil fuels for decades to come. The current crisis reinforces that assumption, but it also exposes its vulnerability: As war drives up oil prices, every oil-importing country is feeling the cost of continuing oil dependence. And every stranded export proves the energy transition can’t wait.

Price shock and necessity

Energy-importing countries such as Jordan, Morocco and Turkey are investing in renewable energy for a different reason: Fossil fuel dependence is bankrupting them.

Turkey imports over 70% of its fossil fuels, including virtually all of its natural gas, 17% of which comes from Iran. Natural gas accounts for less than a fifth of electricity generation, but it is the backbone of the country’s heating and industrial sectors and a major concern if supply falters. Turkey’s energy import bill is climbing at a time when the economy is already under strain from rising borrowing costs and weakening currency value.

Jordan, which historically has imported over 90% of its energy, faces similar pressure.

But these countries would be in far worse positions had they not already been investing in alternatives.

More than half of Turkey’s installed electricity capacity now comes from renewable energy sources. Morocco built one of the world’s largest concentrated solar facilities, and renewable sources now supply 25% of the country’s electricity. Similarly, Jordan has gone from virtually no renewable electricity to renewable sources providing more than a quarter of its power in roughly a decade.

The current war has vindicated their investments in renewable energy – though the vindication has limits. The same crisis that proves the value of renewable energy investment also raises inflation, tightens credit and strains the very public finances these countries need to keep building.

Every kilowatt-hour generated by a Turkish wind turbine or a Moroccan solar panel is one that does not depend on a tanker passing through the Strait of Hormuz. But the financial pressure means building the next renewable generating project just got harder.

Crisis upon crisis

Then there are countries where this war lands on top of existing emergencies.

Iraq, the second-largest oil producer in the region and in the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries, depends on Iranian gas imports to generate much of its electricity – a supply line now directly threatened by the war. Oil exports through the southern port of Basra, on the Persian Gulf, fund roughly 90% of Iraq’s government revenue. If those revenues are disrupted, the government may be unable to function. Iraq already suffers chronic electricity shortages and has virtually no renewable energy capacity to fall back on.

In Yemen, Libya and Syria, energy infrastructure has been damaged or destroyed by years of conflict. These countries import fuel at global prices to run generators and keep hospitals lit. Every dollar added to the price of oil makes that harder. For them, this war is not pointing out reasons to shift to renewable sources: It is threatening energy access itself.

An international challenge

In November 2026, the U.N.’s annual climate summit comes to the region at the center of this crisis, with Turkey as host.

The war in the Middle East has made a powerful case for the economic, political and humanitarian benefits of transitioning from fossil fuels to renewable energy sources. But it has also exposed something the global conversation consistently misses: Different countries are heading in different directions, based on their own circumstances, many of which predate this war.

Understanding those paths matters because it reveals what countries’ promises cannot: where the real barriers are, where the incentives already exist, and where support would make a difference – before the next disruption hits. In my view, this war has helped win the argument about whether to shift to renewable energy, but it has also highlighted a harder question: What does it actually take to build those sources, country by country?

About the Author:

Ezgi Canpolat, Visiting Postdoctoral Scholar, Center for Middle Eastern Studies, Harvard University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By Charles Edward Gehrke, US Naval War College 

The Strait of Hormuz is effectively closed. Since the beginning of the conflict involving the United States, Israel and Iran on Feb. 28, 2026, oil tanker traffic through the world’s most critical oil shipping choke point has collapsed, dropping by more than 90%.

Iran has threatened to destroy any ships, including oil tankers, that pass through the strait from the oil depots of the Persian Gulf to the Arabian Sea and the rest of the world. Companies that insure ships against the risks of traveling in war zones are deciding whether to issue coverage on an individual-ship basis. The international body that sets many shipping regulations has told ships’ crews that they have the right to refuse to sail into the area.

As of March 6, more than 400 tankers were stranded in the Persian Gulf, without permission from their owners to move.

But some vessels are still transiting the strait. Most of the ships still moving are those that operate outside the rules.

In maritime circles, these vessels are called the “shadow fleet.” They are vessels that ignore international restrictions on trade with certain countries, violate anti-pollution regulations, smuggle unauthorized goods or don’t want their cargo or activities too closely monitored.

They exist, even in a world filled with electronic tracking, because the world’s oceans aren’t governed the same way the land is. On land, armed personnel closely monitor carefully delineated borders, seeking to force everyone to follow clear rules. But at sea, regulation is almost the opposite. The system that governs international shipping is, at its foundation, voluntary.

The oceans run on trust

The tracking of ships is voluntary. The International Convention for the Safety of Life at Sea – signed by 167 countries – requires almost every commercial vessel to carry a radio transponder that broadcasts the ship’s identity, position, speed and heading to port authorities, coast guards and commercial tracking networks.

That international agreement, which is enforced by individual countries, requires ships to leave the transponders on and active. But there is no physical mechanism preventing a crew from switching it off or broadcasting a false position.

When a vessel turns off its transponder and goes dark, it doesn’t trigger an alarm at some global maritime headquarters. There is no such headquarters. The ship simply disappears from the map. Every map.

National jurisdiction is a matter of preference, not law. Every vessel sails under the flag of a nation, and that nation is theoretically responsible for regulating and inspecting it. But in practice, a ship’s registration in a particular country is a commercial transaction. Many law-abiding shipping companies make this business decision, but this system leaves an opening for those who seek to skirt the rules.

A ship owned by a shell company in the United Arab Emirates can register under the flag of Cameroon, Palau or Liberia, or any country that may lack the resources or the incentive to conduct real inspections. Even landlocked Mongolia has a registry of oceangoing ships flying its flag.

When a vessel comes under scrutiny from port inspectors or coast guards, it can simply reregister under a different flag. Some registries even offer online registration. If the new registration is fraudulent or the registry doesn’t actually exist, the vessel effectively becomes stateless.

Then there is insurance, which is the closest thing the maritime system has to a real enforcement mechanism. Mainstream insurers, mostly based in London, require vessels to meet safety standards, carry proper documentation and comply with international trade sanctions. A ship without insurance coverage cannot easily enter major ports or secure cargo contracts with reputable firms.
Those restrictions are precisely what froze so many law-abiding ships in the Persian Gulf when war broke out.

But companies can avoid those rules, too. Two-thirds of ships carrying Russian oil – the trade of which is restricted by the U.S. and other countries – reportedly have “unknown” insurance providers, meaning nobody knows whom to call to cover the cleanup costs after a spill or collision. The enforcement mechanism works until ship owners realize they can just opt out of it entirely, using less reputable ports or transferring oil from ship to ship out at sea.

What opting out looks like

The results of this voluntary system can be surreal. In December 2025, the United States seized a sanctioned tanker called the Skipper, which was flying the flag of Guyana – even though that country had never registered it. The vessel was, in legal terms, stateless, sailing under the authority of no nation on Earth.

Another vessel, the Arcusat, went further. Investigative reporting found that it had changed its International Maritime Organization identification number, a unique seven-digit code assigned permanently to every ship. It is the maritime equivalent of scraping the VIN off a car.

Now layer these techniques together. An entity purchases an aging tanker that would otherwise be scrapped. It registers the ship through a shell company, pays for a flag of convenience, carries opaque insurance and switches off its transponder when approaching sensitive waters.

It loads sanctioned oil through a ship-to-ship transfer on the open ocean and delivers its cargo to a buyer who asks no questions. If the vessel attracts attention, it changes its name, reregisters under a different flag and starts over.

According to maritime intelligence firm Windward, approximately 1,100 dark fleet vessels have been identified globally, representing roughly 17% to 18% of all tankers carrying liquid cargo, which is primarily oil.

Why it matters now

The dark fleet did not emerge because the maritime system is broken. It emerged because the system is built on voluntary participation, all theoretically ensured by market forces.

For decades, the system worked not because it forced compliance but rather because opting out was more costly than opting in.

What changed is that international sanctions made compliance ruinously expensive and politically disastrous for some countries. A system built on voluntary participation, it turned out, could be voluntarily left.

If your national economy depends on oil exports, and the compliance system is preventing those exports, you build a parallel system. Iran began doing so in 2018, after sanctions were reimposed as part of negotiations over its nuclear development. Russia dramatically expanded that system in 2022 as restrictions hit in the wake of its invasion of Ukraine.

Now, with the Strait of Hormuz effectively closed to aboveboard maritime trade, the only vessels still moving are the ones that ignore the rules.

But the existence of the dark fleet doesn’t mean that the rules of the sea have failed. Rather, it reveals what kind of rules they always were. Illegal oil is the only oil moving in a crisis. In my view, that sends a message to those still playing by the rules: Opting out might be a viable option.

The opinions and views expressed are those of the author alone and do not necessarily represent those of the Department of the Navy or the U.S. Naval War College.

About the Author:

Charles Edward Gehrke, Deputy Division Director of Wargame Design and Adjudication, US Naval War College

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By André O. Hudson, Rochester Institute of Technology 

Tensions in the Middle East often trigger concerns about rising gasoline prices. But disruptions to oil supplies could affect much more than the cost of filling up a car. That’s because crude oil is not only burned as fuel. It is also the raw material for thousands of products that modern societies depend on, including plastics, fertilizers, clothing fibers, medicines and electronics.

As a biochemist, I’m interested in how certain chemicals can shape society, and oil is a prime example.

The stakes become clearer when looking at the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow waterway between Iran and Oman. About one-fifth of the world’s petroleum liquids consumption passes through the strait each day, making it one of the most important oil shipping routes on Earth. If conflict significantly disrupts traffic there, the effects could ripple far beyond energy markets.

Oil is a chemical starting point

Crude oil is a complex mixture of hydrocarbons – molecules made mainly of carbon and hydrogen. Refineries and chemical plants separate and transform these molecules into smaller chemical building blocks known as petrochemicals.

Some of the most important petrochemical building blocks include chemicals such as ethylene, propylene and benzene. Manufacturers can then convert these building blocks into more complex forms, which make up plastics, solvents, synthetic rubber and other industrial materials.

While fuel is a well-known product, fuels actually represents only a portion of what is produced from crude oil. The refining process generates a wide range of petroleum-based materials used to manufacture everyday items, such as plastics, medicines, electronics, cosmetics, clothing fibers and household goods.

Plastics that shape modern life

One of the most visible uses of oil is the production of plastics. Scientists can link individual petrochemical molecules to form polymers, which are long chains of repeating units that create materials such as polyethylene, polypropylene and polystyrene.

Because plastics are lightweight, durable and relatively inexpensive, they have become essential to global manufacturing.

These plastics appear in countless products, including food packaging and water bottles; medical equipment, such as syringes and IV bags; electronics casings and appliances; automotive parts; and construction materials, such as pipes and insulation.

Even technologies designed to reduce carbon emissions depend on them. Wind turbines, solar panels and electric vehicles all contain plastic components derived from petrochemicals.

Fertilizer that feeds billions

Oil and natural gas also play a critical role in agriculture. Modern fertilizers rely on nitrogen compounds, such as ammonia. Ammonia is produced through the Haber-Bosch process, which uses hydrogen typically derived from natural gas or other fossil fuels.

These fertilizers replenish nutrients in soil and dramatically increase crop yields. Without them, global food production would be far lower. Petrochemicals are also used to produce pesticides, herbicides and plastics used in irrigation systems and agricultural equipment.

Clothing, cosmetics and medicines

Petrochemicals also appear in many everyday consumer goods. Synthetic fabrics, such as polyester, nylon and acrylic, are made from petrochemical feedstocks. These feedstocks are the basic chemicals, made from crude oil or natural gas, that serve as the starting ingredients for products widely used in clothing, carpets and furniture.

Petroleum-derived ingredients are also common in cosmetics and personal care products. Certain lotions, shampoos and lipsticks rely on these compounds because they help stabilize formulas and extend shelf life.

Petrochemicals are also important in medicine. Petroleum-derived chemical intermediates − compounds made during the process of turning raw materials into a final product − are used to manufacture pharmaceuticals, medical tubing, sterile packaging and disposable gloves.

These materials help hospitals maintain sterility and safety in health care environments.

Why the Strait of Hormuz matters

Because oil and petrochemical feedstocks move through global shipping routes, disruptions in one region will affect supply chains worldwide. The Strait of Hormuz is particularly important. If conflict or political tensions continue to interrupt shipping through the Strait, oil prices will rise quickly. Energy analysts have long warned that disruptions to the strait could send shock waves through global markets. The impact would not be limited to transportation fuels.

Petrochemical industries depend on steady supplies of crude oil and natural gas liquids as raw materials. If those supplies become more expensive or harder to obtain, manufacturers could face higher production costs.

The proportion of crude oil used for petrochemical feedstocks to create plastics, fertilizers and other materials represents around 10% to 20% of oil consumption. Most crude oil is refined for fuel production, including gasoline, diesel and jet fuel, so these fuel supply chains would likely be the first to take a hit. But over time, disruptions could affect the availability and price of products ranging from plastics and packaging to fertilizers, synthetic clothing fibers and even food.

A hidden foundation of modern economies

Because petrochemicals are often used behind the scenes as ingredients rather than finished products, the connection many agricultural, medical and consumer goods have to oil is easy to overlook. Yet, petrochemicals form a hidden foundation for modern economies. They enable large-scale agriculture, advanced health care systems and global manufacturing supply chains.

At the same time, concerns about climate change and plastic pollution are driving research into alternatives. Scientists are developing bio-based plastics made from plant materials, improving recycling technologies and exploring new ways to produce fertilizers with lower carbon emissions.

For now, the modern world remains deeply dependent on oil, not only for energy but also for the materials that shape everyday life. When news headlines focus on disruptions to oil supply, the consequences may extend far beyond the gas pump, affecting the products that underpin modern society.

About the Author:

André O. Hudson, Dean of the College of Science, Professor of Biochemistry, Rochester Institute of Technology

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By Maryam Lotfi, Cardiff University 

The escalating conflict between Iran, the US and Israel has taken a critical turn. The strait of Hormuz – one of the most important shipping routes for oil and gas – is facing significant disruption. The strait is the main route connecting Persian Gulf ports in Iran and some of the region’s other oil producers to the open ocean.

The strikes on Iran are already having tangible effects: energy flows are slowing, markets are reacting and supply chains are under pressure. This is not just a regional conflict – it is a global supply chain crisis unfolding in real time.

As an expert on supply chains, I am acutely aware of how central the strait is – not only for the stability of the region but also to the functioning of the global economy.

This narrow corridor is one of the world’s most critical chokepoints – around a fifth of the world’s oil passes through the strait daily. Its sudden disruption represents a “chokepoint failure” – a breakdown at a critical node that triggers cascading effects across global systems.

Tanker traffic has dropped sharply, with vessels waiting in surrounding waters as ship owners reassess the risks. Oil prices surged in response to the strikes and the threat to shipping routes. Analysts have warned that prices could climb significantly higher if the disruption persists.

But crucially, this reaction was not driven solely by actual shortages. Markets respond to uncertainty itself. The mere possibility that several million barrels per day could be disrupted is enough to push prices up, even before supply is properly hit. This reflects a broader feature of geopolitical risk: expectations and perceptions can be as economically powerful as material disruptions.

Because energy underpins almost every sector, these price increases transmit rapidly through supply chains. Higher fuel costs raise transportation expenses, increase production costs and ultimately feed into inflation across goods and services that eventually land with consumers.

The strategic importance of the Gulf states

The disruption is not confined to the strait. Instability across the wider Gulf region also affects the United Arab Emirates, as well as other strategically important energy producers and logistics hubs, such as Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia.

This dimension matters because the Gulf functions not only as an energy supplier but also as a crossroads in global trade and logistics.

Ports such as Dubai handle vast volumes of international shipping, linking Asia, Europe and Africa. As tensions spread, the reliability of these logistics systems is increasingly called into question.

The result is a shift to more widespread insecurity, where both energy flows and trade infrastructure – things like major container ports, shipping lanes, export terminals and storage facilities – are simultaneously at risk.

Energy is the heart of global supply chains. Manufacturing depends on electricity and fuel, transport relies on oil-based logistics and agriculture depends heavily on natural gas-derived fertilisers. When energy flows are disrupted or become more expensive, the effects propagate across entire networks.

Research on geopolitical crises shows that disruptions to key inputs such as oil and gas quickly translate into broader supply chain instability. This affects production, trade and the availability of goods far beyond the conflict zone. The Iran crisis reflects this dynamic. What begins as disruption in a maritime corridor can become a global economic issue within days.

For decades, global supply chains have been optimised for efficiency. This means that they concentrate sourcing and production in regions that minimise costs. This model has delivered large economic benefits, but it has also created weaknesses in the structure.

The concentration of energy flowing through a single chokepoint such as the strait of Hormuz exemplifies this trade-off. When it is disrupted, the system lacks resilience.

In response, supply chains are likely to accelerate efforts to diversify and invest in alternative energy routes and sources. Countries that are heavily dependent on oil transiting through the Gulf will seek to expand strategic reserves, diversify their import routes and invest in pipelines that bypass maritime chokepoints.

But at the same time, geopolitical instability strengthens the case for renewable energy, electrification and regional energy integration. Expanding solar, wind and green hydrogen capacity reduces exposure to concentrated fossil fuel corridors. And cross-border electricity connections can improve flexibility during shocks. In this sense, resilience is also an energy transition issue.

At the same time, instability in conflict-hit regions can fuel the rise of informal and illegal supply chains, particularly where governance is weakened. These can include things like unregulated oil trading, goods being smuggled through informal maritime routes and labour exploitation hidden within subcontracting chains.

What’s more, supply chains themselves are increasingly shaped by geopolitical forces, as states use trade, energy and logistics networks as instruments of power.

For consumers, this could mean greater price volatility, shortages and reduced choice as firms adjust sourcing strategies in response to sanctions, trade restrictions or security risks. In some cases, it may also mean higher costs over the long term, as businesses prioritise resilience over efficiency.

A turning point for globalisation?

The situation in the strait of Hormuz may mark a turning point in how global supply chains are understood. It has shone a light on a fundamental tension at the heart of globalisation. Efficiency depends on sourcing and production being concentrated in a few locations, but resilience depends on diversification. When critical links in the chain fail, the consequences extend far beyond their immediate location.

This war demonstrates that supply chains are not merely economic systems. They are deeply embedded in geopolitical realities. The challenge ahead is not simply to manage disruption, but to redesign supply chains and energy sources for a world in which geopolitical risk is no longer exceptional, but structural.

About the Author:

Maryam Lotfi, Senior Lecturer in Sustainable Supply Chain Management, Cardiff University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By Promise Longe, University of Kansas 

In the search for more, new and cleaner sources of energy, a largely untapped resource is emerging: natural hydrogen.

Unlike hydrogen produced from industrial processes, natural hydrogen forms through geological reactions that occur normally within the Earth’s crust, meaning it costs nothing to make – though it costs some amount to extract – and does not emit any carbon dioxide or other human‑caused pollutants.

Today, hydrogen is used mainly in oil refining, production of ammonia for fertilizer and to make methanol, which can be a fuel and an ingredient in plastics. Emerging technologies are making hydrogen a viable fuel for cars, planes, ships and factories. Hydrogen demand around the world is projected to grow from around 90 million metric tons in 2022 to more than 500 million metric tons by 2050. Some of that supply could come from nature itself, as well.

To describe each source of hydrogen, energy researchers like me, and the energy industry as a whole, use a range of colors. In general, “gray” and “blue” hydrogen are made by burning fossil fuels, with blue hydrogen incorporating technology that captures the carbon dioxide produced in the process to reduce emissions. “Green” hydrogen comes from renewable‑energy‑powered electrolysis, using electricity to split water into hydrogen and oxygen. “White” or “gold” hydrogen occurs naturally underground and can be extracted directly with minimal processing.

How natural hydrogen forms

Natural hydrogen originates from several geological processes. The most well‑studied mechanism is serpentinization, a reaction where water interacts with iron‑rich rocks known as ultramafics, releasing hydrogen gas.

Serpentinization occurs in diverse settings around the world, including ocean ridges and continental formations such as the Midcontinent Rift in North America, a band of mostly igneous rocks with some sedimentary rocks mixed in, which extends from Minnesota through the Lake Superior region and southward toward Kansas.

Another process, thermogenic hydrogen formation, occurs in deep sedimentary basins when organic material decomposes under high temperatures, roughly 480 to 930 degrees Fahrenheit (250 to 500 degrees Celsius). These reactions can also produce hydrogen alongside other gases, such as methane or nitrogen.

Because these processes happen over millions of years, using natural hydrogen generally requires far less energy than human‑made methods such as electrolysis, which consumes roughly 50 kilowatt-hours of electricity per kilogram of hydrogen produced – enough to power an average home for a day or two, and more than the energy that kilogram of hydrogen can provide. Natural hydrogen is already made – it just has to be collected.

The science and the search

Researchers and exploration companies are developing methods similar to those used in oil and gas exploration to locate potential hydrogen accumulations. They are looking at three types of geological formations:

1. Focused seepage, where hydrogen seeps naturally through cracks and faults. It tends to reach the surface and disperse quickly, making large-scale capture difficult.
2. Coal beds, where hydrogen binds to coal layers, offer higher potential density but pose difficulties for extraction. The hydrogen must first be separated from the coal and then flow through tight rock layers to the extraction point.
3. Reservoir‑trap‑seal systems, comparable to the rock formations that trap natural gas underground, are considered the most promising for commercial production because they can concentrate large volumes of hydrogen in well‑defined, drillable structures. However, they remain largely unproven in practice: The basic idea is well established, and geologists have a good sense of where those formations might occur, but they still lack detailed data on how much hydrogen these formations actually contain and how easy it would be to extract.

Massive reserves – somewhere

The U.S. Geological Survey estimates there could be more than 5 trillion metric tons of geological hydrogen underground around the world. But only a small fraction of that is estimated to be recoverable, both technically and in terms of reasonable costs.

However, even 2% of that total would be more than all proven natural gas reserves on the planetand enough to meet projected demand for the next 200 years, even accounting for increased consumption.

All of that reserve has built up over billions of years. The Earth naturally produces between 15 million and 31 million metric tons of natural hydrogen each year – less than 1% of the amount expected to be needed each year by 2050. But only a fraction of that is likely to be efficiently captured.

So geologic hydrogen is likely best viewed as a very large but ultimately finite source of low‑carbon energy that can substantially complement, but not replace, other energy sources, including various methods of producing hydrogen.

Global hot spots

Currently, only one hydrogen field, at Mali’s Bourakébougou village, produces natural hydrogen commercially, supplying tens of tons of hydrogen per year to power the village.

However, the number of companies exploring for natural hydrogen has increased rapidly, from roughly 10 in 2020 to about 40 by the end of 2023, according to Rystad Energy and related government and research‑lab reports.

Apart from that one field in Mali, exploration is concentrated in the United States, Australia, Canada and several European countries.

In the U.S., HyTerra’s Nemaha Project in Kansas has confirmed subsurface hydrogen concentrations reaching more than 90% hydrogen and 3% helium. The higher the concentration of hydrogen, the more efficient and cost‑effective it is to recover. HyTerra is also exploring elsewhere in the Midwest and Rocky Mountain regions.

Technical barriers

Transforming geological hydrogen into a commercial energy source presents tough scientific and technical challenges. Detecting and measuring hydrogen underground is difficult because of its small molecular size and reactivity with other elements in the rocks.

And if what’s found is low concentrations of hydrogen mixed with large amounts of other gases, it can be costly, even prohibitively so, to separate and purify the hydrogen before it can be used.

Economics and efficiency

The economic promise of natural hydrogen lies in its simplicity.

Because geological processes already performed the production work, early estimates suggest that extraction costs could be one‑tenth the production costs for other traditional hydrogen generation techniques – or possibly even less than that.

But those figures are based on the small amounts of hydrogen found so far and may not represent future large‑scale performance. Producing enough to serve commercial demand will require discovering large, high-quality accumulations.

As one leading research group noted, “This is not a gold rush.” It’s a careful exploration for scientific evidence that could lead, in time, to an abundant, carbon‑free and continuous energy source that complements other renewable energy sources.

About the Author: 

Promise Longe, Ph.D. Candidate in Chemical and Petroleum Engineering, University of Kansas

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.