The Hubris of Taming the Skies: The Chasm Between Cloud Seeding and Reality

Human history is a saga of oscillation between the desire to dominate nature and the devastation wrought by that very ambition. Nowadays, whenever an extreme weather event occurs—be it a region submerged by floods or withered by drought—eyes immediately turn to the skies. Yet, this time, the gaze is not fixed on the natural form of the clouds, but on what humans "did" to them. Cloud seeding has ceased to be a mere scientific method; it has become a symbol of our collective fears and that perilous hubris: the delusion that "we control everything."

Let us establish the scientific reality in its simplest terms: Cloud seeding is not a miracle that creates something out of nothing in the sky. If you do not have a cloud mass with the appropriate humidity, temperature, and microphysical conditions, no amount of silver iodide or dry ice will produce even a single drop of rain. This method is merely a microscopic nudge—an attempt to increase the precipitation efficiency of a cloud already "ready to rain" by approximately 10% to 15%.

However, the problem begins here: We believe we can salvage our systemic crises—the climate crisis, mismanagement of water, and ecosystem collapse—with technological "patches." The rationale behind my cautious stance toward Carbon Capture and Storage (CCS) technologies applies equally to cloud seeding or seawater desalination. Attempting to manipulate the outcome instead of transforming the system as a whole is nothing but an illusion. While we think we are taming nature, we are, in fact, merely feeding our own hubris.

The flood disaster in Dubai was a laboratory for this arrogance and the resulting disinformation. While claims that "cloud seeding flooded the city" flew through social media echo chambers, the laws of thermodynamics told a different story: A warming atmosphere holds approximately 7% more water vapor for every degree of temperature increase. That disaster was not the result of salts dropped by a few planes; it was an output of the global climate engine, broken by human industrial greed and emissions.

The greatest mistake of conspiracy theorists is to search for an absolute "human will" behind every event. The reality, however, is much more jarring: We have lost control over most matters regarding nature. We do not manage nature; on the contrary, we are facing the unpredictable consequences of a system we have broken.

Beyond the technical limits of cloud seeding, there is a much more vital and legal question: Who does the water belong to?

When you "condense" the moisture of a cloud in the sky to bring it down upon your own land, are you stealing the rights of the next region where those clouds would have naturally drifted? Or worse, if a cloud you seeded to rain on your field causes a flood in a nearby region instead, who bears the responsibility? Water management is not just a matter of engineering; it is a matter of justice. It is a tragicomic effort for a civilization that cannot fully manage water even in closed basins—such as Konya—to attempt to parcel out the skies.

The responsibility of being a scientist requires offering the public the "bitter truths" they must face, rather than the "false hopes" they wish to hear. Cloud seeding will not solve our water crisis. Every particle cast into the sky will not save us from our flawed agricultural policies, our depleted groundwater, or our polluted rivers.

Living correctly and sustainably on Earth requires knowing our own limits. We will begin to build a true strategy only when we realize we are not "conquerors" of nature, but a part of it. Until then, we must stop tinkering with the skies and focus on the ground we stand upon and its vanishing resources.

Because there is only one thing we must understand before the last glacier melts: There is no bargaining with nature.