Well, the 2024 hurricane season is over, and we can now wrap up with Michael E. Mann’s predictions — which were so off target it might make a dartboard blush. As we noted previously in our “Black Knight Michael E. Mann” article, he reminds us of the Monty Python character who loses his limbs in battle but still stubbornly insists: “It's just a scratch.” ! This time, Mann’s speculative sword fell on the following prediction: 33 named storms As he proudly declared in April, the 2024 Atlantic hurricane season is “the highest number ever predicted.”
Well, the season is over and reality has other plans. Instead of the hurricane “doomsday” that Mann foresaw, we ended up with a total of 18 named storms, a far cry from the 33 he predicted. To put things into perspective, this 18 is only slightly higher than the historical average of 14.
Steve Milloy junk science Mann's prediction was aptly summed up as “the worst prediction ever made.” While this may sound harsh, it's hard to argue with these numbers. Not only did Mann miss the bullseye, he hit the entire dart board and into the wall of the bar.
Let’s be clear: There’s nothing inherently wrong with making predictions. But when these predictions take on academic authority and become fodder for climate alarmism, they deserve closer scrutiny. Mann's predictions are not cautious, probabilistic estimates; It’s a bold declaration of climate apocalypse. When reality knocks on the door, Mann's claims are thrown into disarray. Yet, like Monty Python's Knight, Mann continues to stand on the ashes of his predictions, defiantly insisting: “I am invincible!”
This isn't the first time Mann's claims have been challenged. His career included the controversial “Hockey Stick” drawing, which has been the subject of debate for decades. While Mann's defenders consider his methods groundbreaking, his critics argue they rely heavily on selective data and opaque statistical techniques. The forecasts for the 33 storms appear to follow a similar pattern: extreme scenarios are exaggerated to grab headlines, only for the results to be far less dramatic.
Now, Mann's defenders might argue that a lower-than-expected number of storms is itself evidence of climate unpredictability, or variability. That’s the beauty of these predictions—they’re often very malleable, and they can be used to support the broader climate crisis narrative no matter what happens. If there were 33 storms, Mann might be hailed as a prophet. Through 18 storms, he can focus on how unpredictability demonstrates the dangers of our climate future. It's a win-win—at least for him.
The real problem here isn't just Mann's prediction failure; This is the broader impact of such exaggerated predictions. They contribute to the urgency and necessity of extreme climate policies such as net-zero emissions mandates, carbon taxes and traditional energy bans. But when these policies are based on flawed or exaggerated science, ordinary people pay the price. Energy prices are soaring and economic growth is slowing, but the climate models driving these policies continue to falter.
So what should we take away from the Mann Hurricane fire? First, bold claims require bold evidence—and accurate records to support those claims. Second, a forecast is only as useful as its outcome, and Mann's hurricane forecast falls neatly into the “useless” category. Finally, science is not served by doubling down on failed predictions. This can be achieved by acknowledging uncertainty and modifying methods when the facts disagree.
Mann's prediction of the hurricanes of 2024 was not the storm he predicted, but a storm in a teapot, a line that has been around for much longer than Monty Python's The Black Knight, but which equally captures the way exaggerated drama can lead to an anticlimax. The nature of reality. Instead of ushering in a new era of catastrophic storms, the season has turned into a dull year, making Mann's 33-storm forecast look more like a footnote in the annals of exaggerated climate predictions. Maybe next time, Mann might consider basing his predictions on reality itself, rather than wildly swinging at it. Because when your predictions are consistently inaccurate, it's time to put down the teapot and take a hard look at the kettle.
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