Spatial Assessment of Environmental Risks and Community Perceptions of CarbonGeosequestration for Blue Ecosystem Sustainability in the Niger Delta Nigeria

The Earth's atmosphere is warming, a reality driven largely by the accumulation of greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide. To slow this change, scientists and engineers are exploring ways to capture this gas from industrial sources and lock it away deep underground, a process known as geosequestration. Imagine taking a heavy, invisible blanket of gas and burying it in deep rock layers where it cannot escape back into the sky. This method relies on finding specific geological pockets, often old oil and gas reservoirs or deep salty water layers, that are sealed tightly by layers of impermeable rock. While this technology offers a potential path to reduce global emissions, it is not without complexity. The success of such a project depends not just on whether the rock is strong enough to hold the gas, but also on whether the surface above it is safe for the people and wildlife that call it home. In many parts of the world, the ground that is best for storing carbon is also the ground that supports fragile ecosystems and the livelihoods of coastal communities.

In the Niger Delta of Nigeria, a region defined by its vast network of rivers, mangrove forests, and coastal wetlands, researchers set out to understand the tension between these two needs: the urgent need to store carbon and the critical need to protect a sensitive blue ecosystem. A team of scientists from the University of Uyo and the Maritime Academy of Nigeria mapped the region to see where the underground conditions were right for storing carbon dioxide and then overlaid those maps with the locations of the most valuable natural habitats. They also went into the communities living along the coast to ask a simple but vital question: do the people who live there know about this technology, and how do they feel about it being built near their homes? Their work reveals a landscape where the solution to one global problem might accidentally create a local one, highlighting a deep disconnect between scientific planning and community reality.

The researchers began by looking at the geology of the Niger Delta, a massive sedimentary basin known for its thick layers of rock. They identified areas where the underground conditions—such as the depth of the rock, the thickness of the sealing layers, and the presence of old, empty oil fields—made it possible to safely inject and store carbon dioxide. These geological requirements are strict; the rock must be deep enough to keep the gas under high pressure and sealed by thick layers of clay or shale to prevent leaks. Using computer mapping tools, the team identified large zones across the delta that met these geological standards, covering an area of roughly 42,000 square kilometers. This was the first step: finding the places where the earth could technically hold the gas.

However, finding a place that can hold the gas is only half the story. The next step was to see what was living on top of those places. The team layered their geological maps over maps of the region's most sensitive environments, including mangrove forests, coral reefs, estuaries, and marine protected areas. The result was a clear and concerning picture of overlap. They found that the zones suitable for storing carbon were not empty; they sat directly beneath some of the most ecologically rich parts of the delta. Specifically, nearly 30 percent of the mangrove forests, which are crucial for protecting the coast and supporting fish populations, were located above these potential storage sites. Similarly, about 24 percent of the coral reefs and nearly 24 percent of the estuaries and lagoons overlapped with the areas identified for carbon storage. This spatial conflict suggests that if the country moves forward with storing carbon in these locations, it risks disturbing the very ecosystems that support the local blue economy and protect the coastline from erosion.

The study also turned its attention to the people living in these coastal communities, surveying 420 residents from eleven different towns in Akwa Ibom and Rivers States. The findings here were stark. More than 95 percent of the people surveyed had never heard of carbon geosequestration. When asked if they knew their community was being considered as a potential storage site, the answer was a unanimous no. Despite this lack of knowledge, the level of concern was incredibly high. Over 90 percent of respondents believed that storing carbon underground nearby would put their environment at risk, and nearly 98 percent said they would feel unsafe living close to such a site. The vast majority expressed a strong preference for alternative climate solutions, such as solar energy, over underground storage.

The researchers analyzed the connection between what people knew and how they felt. They found that those who had some awareness of the technology were significantly less likely to perceive it as a high risk. Conversely, people whose livelihoods depended directly on fishing or farming were much more likely to view the technology as dangerous, fearing it could harm their catch or their crops. This suggests that the fear is not just a reaction to the unknown, but a rational concern from those who rely on the health of the local ecosystem for their survival. The data showed a clear statistical link: as awareness went up, the perception of extreme risk went down, but the baseline level of concern remained high because the potential consequences for their daily lives felt too great to ignore.

The researchers did not conclude that carbon storage is impossible in the Niger Delta, but they did argue that it cannot be done without a major shift in how it is planned. The geological potential is real, but the current approach of looking only at the rock below ignores the complex web of life and human activity above it. The study highlights that implementing this technology without careful planning could undermine the resilience of the mangroves and the safety of the fishing grounds, potentially causing more harm than the climate change it aims to fix. The authors suggest that any future project must start with a comprehensive understanding of these overlaps. It requires a framework that brings together geologists, ecologists, and the local communities to decide where, if anywhere, such storage can happen without destroying the natural systems that sustain the region.

Ultimately, the paper serves as a warning against treating the ground as a neutral container for carbon. In the Niger Delta, the ground is a living, breathing system that supports a fragile balance of nature and human life. The study demonstrates that the path to a greener future cannot be paved by simply burying the problem underground. It requires a careful, inclusive approach that respects the limits of the environment and the voices of the people who live there. Without this balance, the effort to solve the climate crisis could inadvertently damage the very ecosystems that offer natural protection against it. The researchers recommend a step-by-step process that begins with detailed ecological studies and open dialogue, ensuring that the pursuit of climate goals does not come at the expense of the biodiversity and livelihoods that define the Niger Delta.