Nearly 2,000 years ago, there was a thriving city at the foot of a mountain near the sea.
Pompeii was prosperous. It was a port city and a destination for wealthy Romans. People came for theater, food, public baths, gladiators, commerce, and entertainment. It was, in many ways, a place people traveled to enjoy life.
And looming over all of it was Mount Vesuvius.
I once saw a television commercial that imagined the final days of Pompeii. In the commercial, a scholarly man carrying an abacus approaches a wealthy citizen as a volcano erupts in the distance.
He looks at the man and essentially says, “I think you should consider moving.”
The wealthy man looks toward the erupting mountain and responds, “I’ve seen worse.”
The scholar looks back at the volcano, then at the man.
And without saying another word, you understand that he is getting out of there.
I laugh every time I remember that commercial.
But lately, it has stopped being quite so funny.
Because I live in New Orleans.
And another warning has arrived.
There is a disturbing idea circulating about the future of this city, and frankly, it keeps me up at night.
RUMOR HAS IT
People in New Orleans have lived with hurricane rumors for generations. As a child, I remember my family preparing whenever we heard that a storm might be coming. We, of course, bought groceries, eggs, milk, and bread. We filled the bathtub with water and made certain that the hurricane lanterns were ready for action. When all was done, we were tucked neatly into bed for the night to “ride out the storm.”
The next morning, we awoke to a neighborhood a bit disheveled, garbage cans thrown around, tree limbs and branches covering the streets, many things out of place but no real damage. All the neighbors would descend from their homes and, together with brooms, rakes, and shovels, begin the communal cleanup of their block.
That was my hurricane experience growing up in New Orleans.
Things changed over the years.
Storms became more frequent, and the ones that landed were far more intense and dangerous. I remember, all of a sudden, rumors of hurricanes creating intense anxiety for me and my family and a quiet panic for the whole city. You could hear it in the voices of our trusted TV weatherman or woman and see it on the faces of our local leadership.
Things were changing. Perceptions of hurricanes and storms were changing too. A “hurricane is coming” rumor was no longer something we simply prepared for and rode out. It was now filled with trepidation.
And then came Katrina.
Twenty years ago, the rumor became fact.
The consequences are something we are still trying to recover from.
Make no mistake, this town is not the same for Black folks. The many years we have been in this city, as both free people of color and enslaved people, have been eroded, and under the present federal and state administrations are even more difficult to maintain. Our numbers and wealth are shrinking. Our racialized space has diminished, devalued, and in many ways decimated.
It is against this backdrop, a people and a city already worn thin, that the newest rumor reaches me.
And now, this new rumor?
“Rising seas will swallow New Orleans.”
Scientists are now reporting that “New Orleans is locked into a watery future which could see it surrounded by the ocean as early as this century.”
At first, my senses refused to comprehend what those words meant.
My reaction was weird.
I remember a slight giggle that really meant, you’ve got to be kidding, and then nervous curiosity, as in, “Wait a minute, what are they saying?”
My next emotion was panic and sadness.
“This just cannot be happening.”
And so began my mad search for “truth.”
I began reading everything that I could find on the subject, and what I found was not good news.
You see, I am a scientist and a true believer in science. As a breast cancer survivor who lost friends to this disease in my early twenties, I know science saved my life. That same science is now telling us that greenhouse gases and coastal erosion, mostly driven by the petrochemical and oil and gas industries in our area, are major culprits and are proceeding unabated.
I have worked for a reduction in greenhouse gases to abate severe weather events due to climate change, and I have developed working relationships with Indigenous people and island states all over the world fighting the erosion of their coastlines and the decimation of their homelands.
But what I have just learned is that the Louisiana coast is more at risk than any other coastline in the world. This is a shocking revelation and makes our survival even more precarious, or should I say perilous.
Living in a state where the governor announces that he loves oil and gas and has outwardly declared his disdain for the city of New Orleans, I take his cancellation of wetland restoration projects, projects that could have delayed the demise of this historic city, as him squarely putting his money where his mouth is.
He has the power to make it so.
A TALE OF RISK AND RESILIENCE
That search for truth led me here, to what the actual science and the public debate around it say.
This 2026 Tulane study warns
that faster sea level rise, subsidence, and ongoing coastal land loss could make protecting coastal Louisiana increasingly difficult over the next century. It argues that leaders should begin considering long term adaptation options, including managed retreat in some areas. The paper drew national attention and pushback from Louisiana officials and local leaders, who generally accept the underlying climate risks but question its assumptions and emphasis on relocation.
New Orleans and Louisiana have invested heavily in flood protection and resilience since Hurricane Katrina. The federal government completed roughly $30 billion in levee, floodwall, pump, surge barrier, and gate upgrades, while state and local partners have advanced coastal restoration, stormwater improvements, resilience hubs, stronger building codes, and other adaptation efforts.
At the same time, critics note that important restoration projects have stalled, including the Mid Barataria Sediment Diversion, which supporters saw as a major opportunity to rebuild wetlands and reduce storm surge risk.
The core debate is not whether coastal Louisiana faces serious long term threats. It is whether continued investment in engineering, restoration, and new technology can meaningfully extend the region’s viability, and for how long.
Critics of the Tulane study argue it gives too little weight to those possibilities, while the study’s supporters contend that policymakers should prepare now for outcomes that traditional flood protection may not be able to prevent indefinitely.
IN SUMMARY, WHAT IF?
And so, you have it.
One group of respected scientists is telling us that, based on the data they have collected and analyzed, New Orleans is in peril. They have made the city’s risk of being swallowed by the Gulf of Mexico more likely than not, and they give the city about 30 years.
But hold on.
New Orleans and other low lying parishes have made major improvements since Hurricane Katrina in levee protections, drainage, and pump systems. The city has also implemented projects that, in and with communities, build resilience and promote climate ready housing initiatives.
Just as pointed are the scientific arguments that cite imperfections in the methodology, specifically in the data used for modeling, which they argue are inaccurate.
Is your head spinning yet? Mine is!
So, what should we conclude, as citizens, elected officials, and administrators, when planning for the future?
As I grappled with what I would say to those who live in New Orleans, the elected officials, and the government bodies responsible for planning our city’s future and keeping us safe, I kept coming back to that commercial and to Pompeii itself.
Nearly 2,000 years later, the scholar’s warning and the wealthy man’s shrug still feel close to home.
What if the people of Pompeii were warned but did not heed the warning?
We will never know.
But it is food for thought as we contemplate how to respond to the scientific fact that coastal erosion and flooding can completely consume the city of New Orleans, along with most of the endangered coastline.
Can you imagine the coastline being Baton Rouge?
While the evidence on the question of coastal erosion is not disputed, the dispute lies in the question of when, not if, erosion occurs and whether science and adaptation strategies can or will save New Orleans.
The Pompeii story does it for me!
We should heed the scientific warnings and prepare in all ways for the worst. This situation takes disaster and emergency response to a different level. We should increase scientific knowledge and technology while adapting lifestyles and, more importantly, environmental policies and regulations to reduce greenhouse gases.
What if the attention and money presently given to power hungry AI data centers were actually diverted to renewable energy and sustainable practices to reduce greenhouse gases and alter the path of destruction we are now enduring from climate change?
I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this: this planet will survive without humans, but humans cannot survive without this planet.
While I find myself extremely curious about space and what’s up there, I would prefer to remain a creature of Earth.
For the first time, I truly wonder if humanity will survive.
At present, we seem to be making all the wrong decisions.
And I keep returning to those two men standing at the foot of Mount Vesuvius.
Both men could see the mountain.
Both men could see that it was erupting.
One looked at the warning and said, “I’ve seen worse.”
The other understood that seeing the danger was not enough. The warning required a response.
Perhaps that is the real lesson of Pompeii for us.
We do not have to know exactly when the worst will happen to recognize what is happening in front of us. We do not have to agree on every projection or every model before deciding that protecting this city, this coastline, and the people who call it home is worth acting on now.
We have been warned before.
We know what it feels like when the unthinkable becomes real.
Twenty years ago, the rumor of Katrina became fact.
Now another rumor has arrived.
What we do with the warning may determine whether this one does too.
Because that is the thing about rumors. Given enough time, enough inaction, and enough wrong decisions, they can become fact.
Whether this one does is still, for now, up to us.
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Sources here.
