A farmer named Hajj Thomson typically harvests about 150 sacks of grain per season in a field of maize close to Salima, Malawi. He receives five during a powerful El Niño. Not fifty. Five. More than any climate model or policy document, that figure illustrates the true risks as scientists observe the eastern Pacific Ocean starting to warm to levels not seen in decades. The world is already getting hot, and a potentially strong El Niño event—possibly a “super” one—is forming.
Fundamentally, El Niño’s mechanics are surprisingly straightforward. The trade winds that typically drive warm Pacific surface water westward start to weaken every few years. Back east, warm water sloshes. It suppresses the chilly Humboldt Current off the coast of South America. But what comes next is anything but straightforward: a series of altered growing seasons, altered jet streams, and disturbed rainfall patterns that can occur simultaneously across six continents, though never quite in the same way twice.
This event may be one of the strongest El Niños in 140 years, according to climate scientists at the University of Albany. Pacific surface temperatures may rise three degrees Celsius above average, according to the European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts. For background, famines that killed an estimated 50 million people in India, China, Brazil, and parts of Africa were caused by the disastrous El Niño of 1877 and 1878. Although a repeat of that magnitude is unlikely due to modern infrastructure and international food trade, experts are not entirely optimistic about what lies ahead.
The background is what gives this specific moment a heavier feel. The planet is already experiencing some of the highest temperatures in recorded human history. According to Friederike Otto, a professor of climate science at Imperial College London, the records will be broken not only because of El Niño but also because El Niño is entering a climate that has already been dangerously altered by the burning of fossil fuels. The phenomenon amplifies what already exists rather than creating these extremes from nothing. A drought deepens. Heat turns into unbearable heat.
With predictions indicating temperatures in the Caribbean region could surpass 40 degrees Celsius, authorities in Colombia are cautioning that the likelihood of El Niño has risen to 82%. The nation’s energy system, which is primarily dependent on hydroelectric power, is especially vulnerable because less rainfall results in lower reservoir levels, which could lead to blackouts. Officials in Bogotá maintain that reservoirs are far above critical levels, making the capital’s water supply more stable than it was during the 2023 and 2024 crises. It’s still genuinely unclear if that confidence will last through the second half of the year.
It is more difficult to be optimistic about the state of food security. Over 60 million people worldwide experienced droughts and floods during the 2015–2016 El Niño. It was Ethiopia’s worst drought in fifty years. A state of emergency was proclaimed in Zimbabwe. Southern Africa saw a sharp increase in the price of maize. Even though it wasn’t as severe, the 2023–2024 event put over 20 million people in southern Africa alone at serious risk of food insecurity. In addition to the current inflation, geopolitical unrest, and broken supply chains that have already put a strain on household budgets from Bogotá to Nairobi, the numbers could be worse if what’s developing now is stronger than both of those events.
The timing’s particular cruelty is difficult to ignore. For dozens of nations, the Strait of Hormuz crisis has limited their access to fertilizer and fuel. Before any of this began, there was already pressure on the world’s food systems. In the words of a University of Sussex researcher, hunger is essentially political and economic, and climate shocks like El Niño don’t actually cause food crises, but rather rip apart already fragile systems. That framing seems significant. The headline is the warming of the Pacific. The story lies beneath its vulnerability.
The event’s intensity and the governments’ level of seriousness during the remaining window will determine what happens next. Early warning systems, drought-tolerant seeds, reinforced water infrastructure, and anticipatory measures are all underfunded and unglamorous. The difference between preparation and reaction is real to Hajj Thomson, who stands in a field that could produce five sacks rather than 150. It makes all the difference.
