Paris, London and New York are more often associated with culture, finance and history than with dangerous heat. Yet each summer all three are increasingly exposed to extreme temperatures they were never designed to withstand.

Like many dense urban areas, they amplify heat through what is known as the “urban heat island effect”. This reflects the way that warmth is trapped in concrete, asphalt and glass, turning hot days into hazardous ones.

With skyscrapers made of glass and steel, roadways encased in cement and blocks of residential apartments, New York traps heat like few other metropolitan centres. In fact, the city has one of the highest urban heat island effects in the United States, a measurement of thermal difference between urban and rural areas.

Heat kills more than 500 New Yorkers every year, a grim statistic that exacerbates inequalities along the lines of race and class. While many people escape to the seaside or countryside to find relief, others remain in cities where the heat can be harder to avoid and more difficult to endure. Yet these uneven experiences of urban heat are not new. In cities such as London, Paris and New York, coping with hot summers has long been shaped by inequality.

Across the 19th and 20th centuries, urban residents developed a range of strategies to manage extreme heat in densely built environments. Our research for the Melting Metropolis project examines everyday experiences of heat. Here are some of the ways people have coped with these conditions in the past and what they reveal about living with heat in the city.

London

For most historic urbanites, escaping the confines of their home provided the greatest relief from the heat. In the mid-20th century, some Londoners escaped to the roof of their apartment building to catch the cooling breezes that swirled above the city’s streets.

For many others, since the 19th century, public spaces have provided the greatest respite from heat in their homes. Londoners turned to the shade provided by trees in nearby parks, paddled in water fountains or went for cooling dips in lidos and ponds.

Historic urbanites have also tried to cope with the heat at home. In contrast to those who sought relief from the heat in public spaces, wealthier Londoners used money and technology to keep cool. In the 19th century they purchased imported ice from Norway or employed servants to operate fans.

Paris

In the heatwaves of the 19th century, Parisians also headed out in search of relief. Like Londoners, they made extensive use of the parks that urban planners embedded into the fabric of the city during the late 19th-century Haussmann-era redesign. But it was not only dense greenery that provided respite from the heat: the trees planted along the avenues of the city offered shelter from the rays of the sun on hot summer days.

Although the Seine held great potential for cooling down, bathing in its waters was banned in the middle of the 19th century. Despite the official ban, photographic records show that some Parisians in search of freshness broke the law and took the plunge.

To keep cool indoors, the more privileged 19th-century Parisians used ice imported from northern regions or collected locally during the winter and stored in ice houses until temperatures rose. Ice remained a luxury item until the late 1870s, when technological developments allowing ice to be made artificially lowered its cost and widened its accessibility.

Daily life in Paris – including in the summer – had undergone thorough transformations by the middle of the 20th century. Air conditioning began to gain momentum but some traditional ways to cool down have remained at the core of summer life: crowds continue to swarm café terraces, the banks of the Seine stay packed with people, 19th-century water fountains are still used to refill water bottles.

New York

In the 19th century, the tenements of New York City were filled with people sleeping on roofs, sweating on fire escapes, and avoiding the sweltering indoors. The wealthy simply fled the city for countryside estates. Newspapers called these seasonal migrants “heat refugees”.

When seeking outdoor relief, most 19th-century New Yorkers headed to the beach – the city is an island, after all. But by the 20th century, they were also planing block parties with plenty of ice from corner store bodegas. On occasion, they also cracked open fire hydrants – a relief strategy that has become a classic trope of New York City summers.

Future heat waves

For as long as episodes of extreme heat in cities have affected urban life, urbanites have developed ways to cope. Today, cities are taking heat more seriously when they look to the future and working towards adaptation strategies. The disastrous heatwave of 2003 served as a wake-up call in Paris, which implemented a heat plan the following year and continues to work on ways to make the city more liveable in the summer.

Central to New York’s climate resilience plans, air conditioning has become a political battleground in activists’ fight for a “right to cooling” (a bundle of legislation championed by local environmental justice organisations).

Though it can compound the problem of climate change, technologically aided cooling keeps people alive as we all find ways to weather the intensifying heat. In May 2026, the UK’s Climate Change Committee declared that the British way of life is under threat from heat.

In June, London will launch its heat plan for the capital, a first step in supporting the city and its residents to live better with extreme heat.

About the author: Chloe Dutell is a Postdoctoral Research Associate, School of Histories, Languages and Cultures Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Liverpool.

 

The article is reproduced from The Conversation thanks to a Creative Commons licence

A potentially historic El Niño climate event is emerging as one of the defining stories for Colombia through the remainder of 2026, with authorities warning that extreme heat, drought, water shortages and energy pressures could push vulnerable regions toward crisis conditions.

Climate agencies, environmental authorities and agricultural groups are increasingly sounding alarms over what some scientists describe as a possible “super” El Niño – an exceptionally intense warming of Pacific Ocean waters capable of disrupting global weather systems and triggering severe consequences across Latin America.

In Colombia, the warnings are becoming stark.

Authorities fear a prolonged period of extreme temperatures, dwindling reservoirs, forest fires, crop failures and surging food prices that could stretch into early 2027 when typically the “summer season” starts. Officials have already begun urging Colombians to conserve water and electricity as forecasts indicate the phenomenon may intensify during the second half of the year.

The environmental authority of Cundinamarca, known as the CAR, warned that the probability of El Niño has reached 82%, threatening domestic water supplies, industrial production and hydroelectric generation across central Colombia.

“The measures of prevention and adaptation must be taken immediately,” CAR director Alfred Ignacio Ballesteros said, warning that the event could coincide with the Andean region’s traditional dry season in January and February, placing additional pressure on already strained water systems.

For Bogotá, however, authorities insist the capital is better prepared than during the water crisis of 2023 and 2024. The city’s Aqueduct and Sewer Company said no water rationing measures are currently expected despite the arrival of El Niño. Diego Montero, manager of the utility’s master water system, said reservoir levels remain stable, with the Chingaza system — including the Chuza and San Rafael reservoirs — holding nearly 20 million cubic meters above the established guidance curve. Officials also said the Tibitoc treatment plant is undergoing capacity upgrades aimed at increasing production and reducing pressure on the Chingaza system, which supplies most of Bogotá’s drinking water.

Fears beyond Inconvenience

Meteorologists predict temperatures in Colombia’s Caribbean region could surpass 40 degrees Celsius, while prolonged drought conditions may devastate agriculture and livestock production. Industry groups have warned that prices for staple foods including milk, rice, vegetables and beef could rise sharply toward the end of the year, adding renewed pressure to inflation at a moment when many households are already struggling with high living costs. A ‘super’ El Niño could push inflation above 7 percent, warns the National Association of Financial Institutions – ANIF.

Officials are also concerned about the vulnerability of Colombia’s energy grid, which depends heavily on hydroelectric power. Reduced rainfall and lower reservoir levels could increase the risk of electricity rationing or blackouts similar to those experienced during past El Niño events.

The country’s fragile páramo ecosystems and wetlands — critical natural water regulators located in the Andes — may also face heightened threats from forest fires and prolonged heatwaves. Environmentalists warn that drought could destroy sensitive habitats and endanger wildlife already under pressure from deforestation and climate change.

The emerging crisis is part of a broader global climate pattern that scientists say is being intensified by human-driven warming.

El Niño occurs every few years when ocean waters in the eastern and central Pacific become abnormally warm, altering rainfall patterns, shifting jet streams and increasing global temperatures. However, so-called “super” El Niño events are far rarer and more dangerous, with sea surface temperatures rising more than 2 degrees Celsius above historical averages.

Some climate researchers now fear the world could be heading toward one of the strongest El Niño events in modern history.

Paul Roundy, a professor of atmospheric sciences at the University of Albany, recently warned there was “real potential” for the strongest El Niño event in 140 years. Forecasts from the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts suggest Pacific Ocean temperatures could rise three degrees Celsius above average.

Such projections have revived comparisons to the catastrophic El Niño of 1877-1878, which contributed to massive crop failures and famine across parts of India, China, Brazil and Africa. Historians estimate more than 50 million people died globally during that climate disaster.

While modern infrastructure and global trade networks make a repeat of 19th-century famine unlikely, experts say today’s interconnected crises — inflation, inequality, geopolitical conflict and fragile food systems — create new vulnerabilities.

“Hunger is fundamentally political and economic,” warns Benjamin Selwyn from the University of Sussex. “Wars disrupt trade routes, inequality restricts access to food and profit-driven agricultural systems prioritize industrial production over resilience. Climate shocks such as El Niño amplify those existing weaknesses,” writes Selwyn in The Conversation.

Studies by the UN Food and Agriculture Organization and the World Meteorological Organization have already shown that rising temperatures are reducing crop yields and making agricultural labor increasingly dangerous in tropical regions. Heat stress also lowers livestock productivity and survival rates.

In Colombia, the government of leftist President Gustavo Petro has begun discussing contingency measures, though critics argue the country remains dangerously unprepared.

Carlos Carrillo, director of Colombia’s National Unit for Disaster Risk Management (UNGRD), has called for urgent efforts to conserve water and energy while identifying regions at high risk of forest fires. There is also growing concern that years of underinvestment in water storage, energy diversification and climate adaptation could leave Colombia exposed to prolonged disruptions.

If the global forecasts prove accurate, Colombians could soon face months of punishing heat, food inflation and growing anxiety over the resilience of the country’s infrastructure in an age of accelerating climate extremes.

The Trump administration was not invited to the gathering in Santa Marta, Colombia. A White House spokeswoman called the green transition “destructive.”

Crucial Santa Marta conference will include voices of communities long opposed to the exploitation of fossil fuels.

Thirty years ago, Colombia’s U’wa people were ready to commit mass suicide by jumping off a 500-meter cliff. The close-knit indigenous community would rather die with dignity than succumb to oil exploration on their ancestral land.

The U’wa announced their dilemma in 1995 in an open letter that ricocheted around the world. It was no empty threat: 400 years before their ancestors had jumped from the Alto de los Infieles (Cliff of the Infidels) rather than submit to the Spanish colonial yoke.

“The U’wa were the first to call oil the ‘blood of the earth’,” explains Kevin Koenig, director of climate and energy at Amazon Watch, a U.S.-based non-profit. “The U’wa were the first to say that oil needs to stay in the ground. They warned against its extraction and its impact on the world.”

Amazon Watch has supported the U’wa to resist extractive industries over the same three decades, along with dozens of other at-risk communities in Latin America.

This week, in a ground-breaking conference in Santa Marta, some of those efforts will come full circle at the first global summit on “Transitioning away from Fossil Fuels”.

The six-day conference, starting April 24, will host 50 country delegations plus dozens of civil society organizations.

This “road map towards renewable energy” is backed by the Fossil Fuel Treaty Initiative, an alliance of nation states, technical bodies, communities and individuals working to secure a “global just transition from coal, oil and gas”.

For the organizers the timing is critical with climate upset, fuel shortages, war in the Middle East and big oil’s sticky grip on geopolitics more exposed than ever. There’s never been a better moment to move to renewable energy.

A key part of the conference will be representation from indigenous communities; the U’wa, along with many others, will have a voice at the table.

Glacier gone

For Koenig, it is also significant that the inaugural meeting is in Colombia, one of the world’s most biodiverse countries, but also an oil producer moving to curb fossil fuels and embrace renewables.

There is further symmetry in the location: the small coastal city of Santa Marta is “just over the hill” from the U’wa territory which straddles the tropical glaciers of the El Cocuy mountain range, Koenig tells The Bogotá Post.

A hiking route over the same mountains is known as Colombia’s climate change trail – see the ice before it melts.

Prophetically, just three weeks before the conference’s kick-off, the IDEAM climate agency reported that a glacier in the heart of U’wa territory had melted for good.

“Satellite monitoring confirms that Los Cerros de la Plaza glacier coverage is today at zero square kilometers,” it announced matter-of-factly.

Living these realities gives indigenous communities such as the U’wa, wedded to nature and geography, a powerful voice in the transition from fossil fuels.

This experience has often come at a high cost, says Koenig. In countries like Colombia, particularly in the Amazon, oil companies are an existential threat to both the natural environment and the communities it supports. Drilling is invariably a catalyst for violence.

“Some countries use oil extraction as a reason to open areas, saying ‘we can militarize it and it will be safer’. In fact, oil and energy infrastructures are a magnet for armed groups, for political attacks or blackmail,” he explains.

Amazon Watch has supported many indigenous communities to resist oil companies in the Amazon regions of southern Colombia, Peru and Ecuador, often through practical means such as providing solar power and communications equipment, trainings and legal resources, but also by raising their voices to the outside world.

The organization’s latest report, The Amazon Under Siege, highlights how extractive industries and the armed groups that trail in their wake are putting Amazon communities in the crossfire.

Oil addiction

Colombia might have turned a corner with its oil moratorium in Amazon regions but neighboring countries are on a different path, one that might be summed up by U.S. president Donald Trump’s call to “drill, baby, drill”.

“Ecuador is going in the opposite direction with new oil auctions, and two new exploration blocks in remote rainforest,” says Koenig. Peru is following suit in jungle areas hitherto untouched. Perhaps not surprisingly, neither of the Andean countries is attending the Santa Marta transition conference.

According to Koenig, Peru and Ecuador are already in the throes of social violence but now risk replicating Colombia’s conflict with its rural oil pipelines that are constantly attacked or bombed, or oil lines tapped by fuel thieves, creating spills in biodiverse hotspots.

Added to that, drilling new wells makes little economic sense, he says. Current markets are signalling peak oil demand by 2030 even while wind and solar are taking a bigger share of energy output.

By doubling down on oil extraction both countries are “gambling with their future.” Aside from the moral and ethical issues of drilling in remote rainforest with indigenous peoples, getting banks to fund these ventures against the headwinds of renewables is not guaranteed.

“This is the moment where we are seeing both wars linked to fossil fuels politics and dependencies, but also for the first time renewables energies are not just theoretical, they are real, and decision-makers know they are scalable,” notes Koenig.

Fresh air

This seismic shift is reflected in the sassy subtext of the Santa Marta conference: climate deniers not invited. Meetings are reserved for a “coalition of the willing”, Colombian environment minister Irene Vélez, a key organizer of the event, told the Guardian this week..

For campaigners like Kevin Koenig this attitude is a breath of fresh air. Previous climate change conferences, run by the UN, have failed to pin global warming on big oil, he says.

“We know that fossil fuels are the number one source of carbon emissions but that’s nowhere to be found in the Paris [climate change] agreement. That’s due largely to the influence of the oil industry and lobbyists,” says Koenig.

Changing the narrative requires an alignment between traditional knowledge and science, he says. Indigenous communities, the original resisters, are now part of that with their wealth of experience.

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