Category: Climate Desk

  • This story was originally published by HuffPost and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The private consortium that oversees the model building codes for much of the United States and parts of the Caribbean and Latin America stripped local governments of their right to vote on future energy-efficiency codes earlier this month.

    The decision came more than a year after the construction and gas industry groups that wield heavy influence at the International Code Council, or ICC, objected to aggressive new energy codes for which government officials had voted.

    The change, though technical and wonky, marks what environmental advocates say is one of the most consequential roadblocks to decarbonizing the U.S. economy. It also illustrates the limits of both the new Biden administration’s powers and the causes for which activists can mobilize public support. Local governments, members of Congress, environmentalists, and architects overwhelmingly opposed the proposal.

    Under the new system, the building codes that govern energy systems and insulation ― once subject to a vote by the city and state governments tasked with implementing them ― will instead fall under a separate “standards” process that, despite soliciting input from local officials, will give industry more control over the outcome.

    The ICC said it would create a new body to help oversee the process and give government officials “the strongest voice on the committee,” promising “one-third of the seats” on that entity to “government regulators.” It’s unclear which groups would occupy the other two thirds.

    “Well, my sense is the committee will be comprised of people who have an interest in energy efficiency and building science,” Dominic Sims, the ICC’s chief executive, said in a phone interview. “So, I don’t know that there’s that big of a separation between people.”

    The committee is a significant departure from the old process, which allowed government officials from across the country — including representatives from cities’ sustainability and energy departments — to register to vote on the codes.

    Sims said it would actually hasten the transition away from fossil fuels.

    “I will say this: The impetus and the discussion around this issue is not just about the last 12 months,” he said.“Each code cycle, it’s been different. There’s been winners and there’s been losers.That sort of unevenness has not produced quick enough results, or else we’d be at net-zero already.”

    But city officials saw the move as a way for “private industry to maximize profit” and warned that it could encourage governments to shift away from using the ICC’s code.

    “This is a classic example of leaving the fox to guard the hen house,” said Kim Havey, the sustainability director for the city of Minneapolis, who cast a vote in the last code-making cycle. “City leaders and their supporters will be meeting to discuss our options. One may be to ask the White House and Congress to throw the ICC in the compost bin of history and create a new oversight body to develop an energy code that works for the benefit of the people and our planet.”

    The American Institute of Architects called the decision “a step backwards for climate action” that “will no doubt erode progress towards the modern codes that are desperately needed to heal our planet.”

    Industry groups that supported the change cheered the March 4 announcement as a victory. The American Gas Association said it “supports the new framework released today by the International Code Council and believes that the new standards process is inclusive of the stakeholders needed to help ensure reasonable, viable efficiency improvements for the built environment.” The National Association of Home Builders called it “an important change that we expect to result in a model energy code that meets the needs of consumers, builders, building officials and energy efficiency advocates.”

    In late 2019, hundreds of new government officials registered to vote with the ICC, drawing scrutiny from industry groups ― particularly the National Association of Home Builders and the American Gas Association. The last two rounds of codes, which are voted on every three years, had made only paltry 1 percent energy efficiency increases, so cities across the country enlisted more officials from sustainability, energy, and building departments to cast ballots.

    Prior to 2019, most officials had been unaware that they qualified to vote in the highly technical process but were seeking new ways to slash emissions from buildings, the top source of climate pollution in most cities. Buildings use roughly 40 percent of all energy produced in the U.S. for heating, power, and cooking appliances, and generate a proportional share of the country’s planet-heating gases.

    The government officials were clear about what they wanted. By a margin of 3 to 1, the voters whose ballots were tallied in December 2019 approved a slate of new measures to increase energy efficiency of the latest codes by up to 14 percent and require builders to include the circuitry needed to hook up electric vehicle chargers and fossil-fuel-free appliances.

    “Many local governments don’t have their own building code authority, so they are really relying on this process,” said Amy Turner, a senior fellow at Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center for Climate Change Law. But now, she said, “it certainly seems that the ICC is setting the stage for an enhanced voice to be given to these trade groups.”

    construction cranes in Seattle
    Tower cranes crisscross the sky in Seattle, Washington. Karen Ducey / Getty Images

    The measures sought to codify a trend already underway. More than half of homes built from 2010 to 2017 use electricity for space heating, water heating, cooking and clothes drying, according to U.S. Census Bureau data. In February, Seattle became the latest city to start phasing out natural gas hookups in new buildings, following San Francisco and New York City.

    The European Union already requires all buildings constructed in 2021 to be “nearly net-zero.” While industry groups warned that the stricter energy codes U.S. cities voted for risk raising the costs of building new homes, governments and advocates say adding energy efficiency retrofits to existing structures is even most expensive and politically challenging.For example, New York state proposed carve-outs earlier this year for landlords to circumvent New York City’s landmark law requiring big buildings to slash energy use in what advocates dubbed “a giant giveaway to real estate.”

    Weeks after the 2019 vote, industry groups started to push back, arguing that the new mandates were too costly. The National Association of Home Builders, which had previously called low participation rates among government officials “a real problem,” said the record turnout now amounted to “voter manipulation.” The Leading Builders of America, another construction trade group, accused “special interests” of campaigning to “manipulate” the process. The American Gas Association appealed to the ICC to overturn many of the approved code requirements.

    The ICC had long boasted that its governmental voting process left “the final determination of code provisions in the hands of public officials who, with no vested financial interest, can legitimately represent the public interest.”But it ultimately overturned some of the measures, including the requirement to ready new homes for electric vehicle chargers.

    “We had more appeals than we have ever had, enough that it postponed the publication of our energy code by about six months,” Sims said. “That’s kind of telling.”

    The ICC’s appeals board failed to find evidence to support challenges to the voters’ eligibility.Instead, the board, which included a longtime member of the National Association of Home Builders, proposed its own solution: Switching the energy code to a standard and limiting how much input government officials could have.

    “We thought maybe this topic needs to be a standard and needs to be developed through the standards methods, which would be more deliberative,” Anne Anderson, a member of the appeals board, told HuffPost in February.

    The proposal proved divisive within the ICC but narrowly passed in various committee votes. In January, when the ICC held a public hearing on the proposed change, opponents outnumbered supporters as city officials and architects pressed the nonprofit for answers on why this required an urgent change and pleaded for the executive board to abandon the plan.

    “Please, please reconsider,” Kevin Burns, the mayor of Geneva, Illinois, said during his testimony.

    “What’s the point of disenfranchising the voices of thousands of governmental members when this process has been so successful?” Christopher Chwedyk, a representative for the American Institute of Architects, asked during the hearing. “This is 100 percent unacceptable.”

    Construction worker in Maryland
    Construction workers build new housing at a development in Laurel, Maryland. Craig Hudson for The Washington Post / Getty Images)

    Federal officials had limited power over the process since ICC codes are largely enshrined into state laws. But the proposed change attracted scrutiny from the nation’s capital.

    Rep. Frank Pallone, a New Jersey Democrat and chairman of the powerful House Committee on Energy and Commerce, pressed the ICC to explain why the National Association of Home Builders wields unique power over the group’s byzantine code-making bureaucracy. In a tweet the morning of Wednesday, March 3, he said he had “deep concerns over” the ICC’s “plan to silence state and local voices in the building energy code process.”

    Senator Jeanne Shaheen of New Hampshire and Representative Peter Welch of Vermont, both Democrats, said in a letter sent to the ICC that same day that the existing system has “resulted in substantial energy savings over time” and warned that the proposed change “will likely derail and slow this progress.”

    The Biden administration echoed the concerns at the end of February. In a letter to ICC leadership, Kelly Speakes-Backman, the Energy Department’s acting assistant secretary for energy efficiency and renewable energy, asked the code-making group to “not proceed with these proposed changes until these questions and concerns can be adequately addressed.”

    The ICC responded a day later, saying its proposed changes were “time sensitive.” A delay would be detrimental to “the adoption of the suite of I-Codes” for 2024, Sims wrote, referring to the various building codes the ICC creates. “Therefore, if the development process is to change, the process will need to be in place to realize a timely release.”

    After the ICC’s decision, Welch called on the council to “reverse its decision and refocus on a forward-looking codes process that values a consensus based approach, driving energy efficiency and resiliency for the future.

    “This decision is bad for local communities, the environment and green jobs,” Welch told HuffPost. “The ICC has decided to shelve the voices of local officials and the communities that they represent at the request of private entities looking out for their bottom lines.”

    The Energy Department said its “position remains consistent to what was outlined in the February 25 letter to ICC.”

    Unlike the hearing in January, the March 3 executive board meeting, where the ICC deliberated its final decision on the energy codes, took place behind closed doors. Sims said the 18-member executive board voted with “almost unanimity” to approve the changes. An ICC spokeswoman said it was 16 to 2.

    “We need a broader consensus and we need a more energy-efficient code,” Sims said. “We need to walk and chew gum.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline After championing greener building codes, local governments lose right to vote on Mar 15, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by Canada’s National Observer and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    It’s been almost a decade since Jocelyn Doucet first experimented with recycling plastic waste in a microwave.

    Now he says the technology derived from those early efforts will make it possible to produce plastic almost exclusively from recycled materials.

    “We’re consuming more and more plastics,” says the Quebec-based engineer and founder of Pyrowave, a company pioneering microwave-based plastic recycling technology. “Yet there are not that many solutions to address the end-of-life problem, and this is what we’re proposing.”

    The technology is so promising it has caught the attention of French tire giant Michelin. Last year, the company announced a partnership with Pyrowave to build a microwave recycling system for tires. It will be the first time Doucet’s technology is used on a commercial scale.

    Most recycling in Canada today is mechanical, where plastics are shredded before being melted down to make new, usually lower-quality, products. For the process to be viable, the stream of plastics entering the processing facility needs to be clean and well sorted, which poses huge logistical challenges. Pyrowave’s technology then uses high-powered microwaves to break clean polystyrene — a common plastic used to make everything from yogurt cups to keyboards — into molecular components, or monomers, that manufacturers can use to create entirely new polystyrene plastic.

    Simple as it sounds, the approach is novel. Few researchers had successfully used microwaves to break plastic into its constituent parts until Doucet, who has a Ph.D. in chemical engineering from the Polytechnique de Montréal, took up the challenge with a team in 2009.

    At the time, he was working on food waste technologies and wanted a new challenge. “We started getting approached for plastic waste,” he says. Plastic recycling was something new.

    He wondered if pyrolysis could be used in the recycling process. Pyrolysis is a chemical process that burns carbon-based materials like wood or plastic without oxygen to remove the material’s hydrogen and oxygen molecules, leaving nothing but carbon. It’s ancient — Egyptians used pyrolysis to make charcoal.

    Doucet thought a modified version could be used to recycle plastic.

    “Very quickly, we fell on a microwave unit in the lab and started playing with microwaves,” he said. They found high-powered microwaves worked — an exciting discovery for the environmentally minded team.

    Doucet’s microwave process uses electric energy instead of heat, dramatically reducing the amount of energy and greenhouse gas emissions (GHG) needed to produce polystyrene plastic, he says. According to a forthcoming life cycle assessment by Pyrowave, producing polystyrene using microwave pyrolysis recycling is 40 percent more energy efficient than virgin oil production, Doucet adds.

    Observers are reserving judgment.

    “Pyrowave’s technology might play a role in terms of displacing the production of virgin plastic and materials, but until we have more transparent and verifiable data on the yields, environmental and climate impact, we need a cautionary approach,” says Shanar Tabrizi, chemical recycling and plastics-to-fuel policy officer for Zero Waste Europe.

    wingedwolf / Getty Images

    Those potential impacts are broad, from the energy required to collect, sort, and clean plastic waste before the recycling process to managing the toxic residues created by plastic additives. She also noted life-cycle assessments can be misleading, depending on their methodologies.

    “It’s hard to assess (Pyrowave’s) claims and see whether there might be significant pollutants released in the process,” says Richard Heinberg, senior fellow at the Post Carbon Institute. “In general, anything we can do to recycle plastic in more environmentally friendly ways helps, but reducing the scale of production and consumption is even better.”

    Maximizing the environmental potential of Doucet’s technology demands a wholesale restructuring of how we produce and dispose of plastics, the Quebec researcher said. New facilities that use microwave pyrolysis to manufacture plastic will need to be built. And as long as the price of virgin-oil plastic remains low, recycled plastic can’t compete. It will take government regulations mandating that new plastic products contain mostly recycled materials to make the switch, Doucet said.

    He compared microwave pyrolysis recycling and virgin-oil plastic manufacturing to the difference between steam and electric trains. As electricity became widespread, train engineers quickly realized it was more efficient to build entire rail systems based on high-speed electric trains than it was to replace coal with electric heating coils in steam train boilers. The new technology pushed a wholesale shift in how rail systems worked.

    “This is the opportunity to completely rethink,” Doucet says.

    The petrochemical and oil and gas industries so far show no signs of slowing down.

    Virgin-oil plastic factories have been integrated into oil and gas infrastructure like refineries and pipelines for decades — investments that industry is loath to abandon. The sector is betting on continued plastic production to stay afloat as the world transitions away from fossil fuels, with plastic manufacturing anticipated to fuel between 45 percent and 95 percent of the sector’s future growth. Fossil fuel and petrochemical companies are even spending $509 billion more worldwide to expand their facilities by 2024, according to a September 2020 report by the Carbon Tracker Initiative.

    Plastic bottles and other trash floating in waterRosemary Calvert / Getty Images

    That has environmentalists concerned. While recycling — including microwave pyrolysis recycling — can be part of the solution, it can’t be used to justify current levels of production and plastic use, said Laura Yates, lead plastics campaigner at Greenpeace Canada. The organization has been leading efforts for greater government regulations to decrease overall plastic production and implement stringent recycling requirements in Canada.

    In particular, Yates is concerned about efforts by the plastics industry to convert plastic waste into vehicle fuel. That will continue to stimulate virgin-oil plastic production and fail to reduce overall GHG emissions, Yates said.

    Still, there are glimmers of hope. Virgin-oil plastic production decreased by four percent in 2020, and the trend is expected to continue in the coming decades, according to the Carbon Tracker Initiative. That shift is driven by more stringent rules in China and Europe mandating that plastic products be made primarily from recycled materials. They have also started to make recycled plastic economically competitive in those markets, Doucet said.

    As well as the shift in Europe, the federal government is currently drafting new plastics regulations that could see similar policies implemented here, despite intense pushback from the plastics industry on key parts of the planned regulations. Doucet is hopeful that if the new rules are implemented, they will help make plastic recycling — including microwave pyrolysis recycling — commercially viable in Canada.

    Doucet is honest about his technology’s limitations. It is only one tool to end the plastic crisis, not a panacea. Reducing how much plastic we use and ensuring what gets produced gets recycled more efficiently remain essential.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by Canada’s National Observer and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    It’s been almost a decade since Jocelyn Doucet first experimented with recycling plastic waste in a microwave.

    Now he says the technology derived from those early efforts will make it possible to produce plastic almost exclusively from recycled materials.

    “We’re consuming more and more plastics,” says the Quebec-based engineer and founder of Pyrowave, a company pioneering microwave-based plastic recycling technology. “Yet there are not that many solutions to address the end-of-life problem, and this is what we’re proposing.”

    The technology is so promising it has caught the attention of French tire giant Michelin. Last year, the company announced a partnership with Pyrowave to build a microwave recycling system for tires. It will be the first time Doucet’s technology is used on a commercial scale.

    Most recycling in Canada today is mechanical, where plastics are shredded before being melted down to make new, usually lower-quality, products. For the process to be viable, the stream of plastics entering the processing facility needs to be clean and well sorted, which poses huge logistical challenges. Pyrowave’s technology then uses high-powered microwaves to break clean polystyrene — a common plastic used to make everything from yogurt cups to keyboards — into molecular components, or monomers, that manufacturers can use to create entirely new polystyrene plastic.

    Simple as it sounds, the approach is novel. Few researchers had successfully used microwaves to break plastic into its constituent parts until Doucet, who has a Ph.D. in chemical engineering from the Polytechnique de Montréal, took up the challenge with a team in 2009.

    At the time, he was working on food waste technologies and wanted a new challenge. “We started getting approached for plastic waste,” he says. Plastic recycling was something new.

    He wondered if pyrolysis could be used in the recycling process. Pyrolysis is a chemical process that burns carbon-based materials like wood or plastic without oxygen to remove the material’s hydrogen and oxygen molecules, leaving nothing but carbon. It’s ancient — Egyptians used pyrolysis to make charcoal.

    Doucet thought a modified version could be used to recycle plastic.

    “Very quickly, we fell on a microwave unit in the lab and started playing with microwaves,” he said. They found high-powered microwaves worked — an exciting discovery for the environmentally minded team.

    Doucet’s microwave process uses electric energy instead of heat, dramatically reducing the amount of energy and greenhouse gas emissions (GHG) needed to produce polystyrene plastic, he says. According to a forthcoming life cycle assessment by Pyrowave, producing polystyrene using microwave pyrolysis recycling is 40 percent more energy efficient than virgin oil production, Doucet adds.

    Observers are reserving judgment.

    “Pyrowave’s technology might play a role in terms of displacing the production of virgin plastic and materials, but until we have more transparent and verifiable data on the yields, environmental and climate impact, we need a cautionary approach,” says Shanar Tabrizi, chemical recycling and plastics-to-fuel policy officer for Zero Waste Europe.

    A pile of styrofoam containers piled on a trash can
    wingedwolf / Getty Images

    Those potential impacts are broad, from the energy required to collect, sort, and clean plastic waste before the recycling process to managing the toxic residues created by plastic additives. She also noted life-cycle assessments can be misleading, depending on their methodologies.

    “It’s hard to assess (Pyrowave’s) claims and see whether there might be significant pollutants released in the process,” says Richard Heinberg, senior fellow at the Post Carbon Institute. “In general, anything we can do to recycle plastic in more environmentally friendly ways helps, but reducing the scale of production and consumption is even better.”

    Maximizing the environmental potential of Doucet’s technology demands a wholesale restructuring of how we produce and dispose of plastics, the Quebec researcher said. New facilities that use microwave pyrolysis to manufacture plastic will need to be built. And as long as the price of virgin-oil plastic remains low, recycled plastic can’t compete. It will take government regulations mandating that new plastic products contain mostly recycled materials to make the switch, Doucet said.

    He compared microwave pyrolysis recycling and virgin-oil plastic manufacturing to the difference between steam and electric trains. As electricity became widespread, train engineers quickly realized it was more efficient to build entire rail systems based on high-speed electric trains than it was to replace coal with electric heating coils in steam train boilers. The new technology pushed a wholesale shift in how rail systems worked.

    “This is the opportunity to completely rethink,” Doucet says.

    The petrochemical and oil and gas industries so far show no signs of slowing down.

    Virgin-oil plastic factories have been integrated into oil and gas infrastructure like refineries and pipelines for decades — investments that industry is loath to abandon. The sector is betting on continued plastic production to stay afloat as the world transitions away from fossil fuels, with plastic manufacturing anticipated to fuel between 45 percent and 95 percent of the sector’s future growth. Fossil fuel and petrochemical companies are even spending $509 billion more worldwide to expand their facilities by 2024, according to a September 2020 report by the Carbon Tracker Initiative.

    Plastic bottles and other trash floating in water
    Rosemary Calvert / Getty Images

    That has environmentalists concerned. While recycling — including microwave pyrolysis recycling — can be part of the solution, it can’t be used to justify current levels of production and plastic use, said Laura Yates, lead plastics campaigner at Greenpeace Canada. The organization has been leading efforts for greater government regulations to decrease overall plastic production and implement stringent recycling requirements in Canada.

    In particular, Yates is concerned about efforts by the plastics industry to convert plastic waste into vehicle fuel. That will continue to stimulate virgin-oil plastic production and fail to reduce overall GHG emissions, Yates said.

    Still, there are glimmers of hope. Virgin-oil plastic production decreased by four percent in 2020, and the trend is expected to continue in the coming decades, according to the Carbon Tracker Initiative. That shift is driven by more stringent rules in China and Europe mandating that plastic products be made primarily from recycled materials. They have also started to make recycled plastic economically competitive in those markets, Doucet said.

    As well as the shift in Europe, the federal government is currently drafting new plastics regulations that could see similar policies implemented here, despite intense pushback from the plastics industry on key parts of the planned regulations. Doucet is hopeful that if the new rules are implemented, they will help make plastic recycling — including microwave pyrolysis recycling — commercially viable in Canada.

    Doucet is honest about his technology’s limitations. It is only one tool to end the plastic crisis, not a panacea. Reducing how much plastic we use and ensuring what gets produced gets recycled more efficiently remain essential.

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Microwaves could be the future for plastic recycling on Mar 13, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Carbon dioxide emissions must fall by the equivalent of a global lockdown roughly every two years for the next decade for the world to keep within safe limits of global heating, research has shown.

    Lockdowns around the world led to an unprecedented fall in emissions of about 7 percent in 2020, or about 2.6 billion tonnes of CO2, but reductions of between 1 billion and 2 billion tonnes are needed every year of the next decade to have a good chance of holding temperature rises to within 1.5 degrees or 2 degrees C of preindustrial levels, as required by the Paris Agreement.

    Research published on Wednesday shows that countries were beginning to slow their rates of greenhouse gas emissions before the COVID-19 pandemic struck, but not to the levels needed to avert climate breakdown. Since lockdowns were eased in many countries last year, there have been strong signs that emissions will rise again to above 2019 levels, severely damaging the prospects of fulfilling the Paris goals.

    Corinne Le Quéré, the lead author of the study, said the world stood at a crucial point as governments poured money into the global economy to cope with the impacts of the pandemic. “We need a cut in emissions of about the size of the fall [from the lockdowns] every two years, but by completely different methods,” she said.

    Governments must prioritize climate action in their efforts to recover from the pandemic, she said. “We have failed to understand in the past that we can’t have tackling climate change as a side issue. It can’t be about one law or policy, it has to be put at the heart of all policy,” she said. “Every strategy and every plan from every government must be consistent with tackling climate change.”

    The study joins other research showing that the drastic fall in greenhouse gas emissions associated with the pandemic will have little impact on long-term climate goals, and may be followed by a swift rebound unless countries take rapid action to direct their economies away from fossil fuels.

    “There is a real contradiction between what governments are saying they are doing to do [to generate a green recovery], and what they are doing,” said Le Quéré. “That is very worrisome.”

    Glen Peters of the Cicero center for climate research in Norway, who coauthored the paper, said structural changes were needed for economies around the world to move away from fossil fuels and other high-carbon activities.

    “Emissions were lower in 2020 as fossil fuel infrastructure was used less, not because infrastructure was closed down,” he said. “When fossil fuel infrastructure is put into use again, there is a risk of a big rebound in emissions in 2021, as was seen in the wake of the global financial crisis in 2009.”

    The paper, published in the journal Nature Climate Change, shows that many of the world’s major economies were reducing their emissions before the pandemic. The Global Carbon Project, a team of scientists from around the world, found that 64 countries had cut their emissions in the period between 2016 and 2019 compared with 2011 to 2015, but 150 countries showed an increase in emissions in the latter period.

    Countries must urgently intensify their efforts to cut greenhouse gas emissions, said Le Quéré. The study shows that the annual rate of emissions cuts must increase roughly tenfold from 160 million tonnes a year in high-income countries before the pandemic struck.

    In lower-income countries, there was no real slowdown in emissions between 2016 and 2019 compared with the previous two five-year periods. Such countries must also drastically slow their rate of emissions increase in the future if the Paris goals are to be met.

    Joeri Rogelj, a lecturer in climate at Imperial College London who was not involved in the study, said governments were in danger of slipping back on their climate commitments as a result of the pandemic and the rush to restart stalled economies.

    “Governments need to use their recovery stimulus in smart, future-proof ways [but] other analysis has shown very few governments are taking this opportunity,” he said. “Currently, the actions and investments of many governments in response to COVID-19 are driving emissions in the opposite direction.”

    Dave Reay, a professor of carbon management at the University of Edinburgh, also not involved in the study, said: “Already there are signs that instead of build back better, it is more often a case of build back, whatever. If we are to have any chance of getting back on track to meet the Paris goals, the route out of the pandemic must be both global and green.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Study: Equivalent of COVID emissions drop is needed every 2 years on Mar 8, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by HuffPost and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    United Nations human rights officials issued a report Tuesday condemning environmental racism in Louisiana’s “Cancer Alley,” where the mostly Black population breathes air heavily polluted by an ever-widening corridor of petrochemical plants.

    Once the site of plantations where generations of enslaved African workers toiled and died, the 85-mile stretch along the lower Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans has for decades served as an industrial hub, with nearly 150 oil refineries, plastics plants, and chemical facilities.

    The area is also home to the descendants of those enslaved workers, who studies show have suffered and died from cancer, diabetes, and respiratory diseases at higher rates than most of the country, and higher than Louisiana as a whole. The risk of cancer from air pollution in the corridor is 95 percent higher than in most of the country, and during the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, death rates from the virus soared.

    “This form of environmental racism poses serious and disproportionate threats to the enjoyment of several human rights of its largely African American residents, including the right to equality and non-discrimination, the right to life, the right to health, right to an adequate standard of living and cultural rights,” the U.N. experts said in the report.

    The finding from an international body known for investigations of protest crackdowns in Myanmar, torture in Afghanistan, and assassination attempts on Russian opposition leaders highlights the severity of the issue in the world’s most powerful rich country. The human rights office last criticized the United States over racist police violence last week, reiterating concerns it raised during last summer’s protests following the killing of George Floyd.

    “They’re killing us over here in Cancer Alley,” Sharon Lavigne, the founder of community advocacy group RISE St. James, said Tuesday.

    Until the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers suspended permits in November, Taiwanese industrial giant Formosa Plastics Corporation was building what would have been one of the world’s largest plastic manufacturing plants in the region. The project, approved in 2018, would have more than doubled the cancer risks in St. James Parish, where census data show roughly half the population is Black and nearly 17 percent falls below the poverty line.

    But using data from the Environmental Protection Agency, the U.N. researchers found that the cancer risks for the predominantly Black parts of the parish were up to 105 cases per million residents, while areas where the population was mostly white ranged from 60 cases to 75 cases per million.

    As more petrochemical plants open, the U.N. report estimated that the combined carbon dioxide emissions per year in a single parish would exceed those of 113 countries.

    Unmentioned in the report was the effort over the past year by Louisiana lawmakers to squelch protest by the vibrant community activist groups in the pollution-plagued region. In May, the state legislature passed a bill that would have required judges to impose a mandatory three-year minimum prison sentence with hard labor on protesters convicted of trespassing on industrial property or infrastructure. That could include almost anywhere in a state with 125,000 miles of oil and gas pipelines.

    But advocates in St. James Parish took the threat personally. For years, community groups that included the descendants of enslaved Black workers had protested plans to build the Formosa plastics plant on the site of an unmarked slave burial ground. If police arrested them during a routine spiritual ceremony to honor the dead and demand special designation for the area, the bill would have subjected them to severe penalties.

    At the time, Lavigne told HuffPost the bill would akin to “going back to slavery,” calling the lawmakers “dirty, dirty dogs.”

    Governor John Bel Edwards, a Democrat, vetoed the bill. But similar legislation is popping up in other states.

    Still, Lavigne said the U.N. report was a sign her work was finally paying off.

    “God is moving,” she said. “All these fights and all these sleepless nights I’ve been having, God is tired of me not sleeping. He’s moving faster than I think he’s moving.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline UN says environmental racism in Louisiana’s Cancer Alley must end on Mar 5, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by HuffPost and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Kim Havey had a problem. Minneapolis was generating more and more of its electricity from renewables, dropping climate-warming pollution from power to record lows. But emissions from natural gas, which is used to heat buildings and stovetops, were climbing ― overtaking power plants as the city’s top source of carbon pollution in 2017.

    Nearly three-quarters of Minneapolis’ emissions came from buildings, and the city was undergoing a construction boom to accommodate a population growing faster than at any point since the 1950s. So Havey, the city’s sustainability director, helped craft new rules mandating more efficient standards for all those new buildings.

    But there was a hurdle. Buildings over 50,000 square feet ― medical offices, corporate headquarters, apartment buildings ― fell under state jurisdiction. And Minnesota, like most states, used the International Code Council’s model national energy code as its standard. The ICC ― which, as one newspaper once put it, like the World Series, primarily concerns the U.S. ― is a nonprofit consortium of construction industry groups, architects and local government officials that creates the standard building codes used in towns and cities in all 50 states.

    Then Havey learned that as a government official responsible for buildings and energy codes in his city, he could register to vote on the ICC’s next round of energy codes in November 2019. He wasn’t alone in this endeavor. The slow progress in reducing emissions from buildings and a decade of virtually unchanged ICC codes were frustrating officials across the U.S., and hundreds applied that year to vote in a process that takes place every three years.

    By the time votes were tallied, this army of Leslie Knopes had won an overwhelming victory. The ballots went 3 to 1 in favor of mandates to ratchet up energy efficiency and require new homes and buildings to include wiring to hook up electric vehicle chargers and electric appliances.

    But the triumph was short-lived. The building industry groups that have long wielded dominance over policy at the ICC soon began challenging not only the approved measures, which they called costly and unrealistic, but the members’ right to vote at all.

    The National Association of Home Builders, whose influence over the ICC has drawn scrutiny from Congress, demanded the organization reconsider the eligibility of dozens of city departments that cast ballots in 2019. Havey and his entire department were among them.

    “We were taking this very seriously,” Havey said. “We followed the process to the letter of the law.”

    Now, the ICC is deciding whether to end all future voting. A final decision from the nonprofit’s executive board, which is made up of 18 government officials from across the country, could come as early as next Wednesday.

    The developers and building industry groups that want to end voting say doing so will help ensure the integrity of model energy codes, which they say were damaged with votes from misinformed government officials who don’t understand building codes. Among the organizations that have backed the voting change are some of the nation’s largest and most powerful industry lobbies, including Leading Builders of America, the American Gas Association and the National Association of Home Builders. They say the get-out-the-vote campaign that led to the biggest turnout in ICC voting history amounted to “manipulation” by “special interests.”

    But critics of changing the process ― namely city officials, environmentalists and architects ― say this was just the latest example of the building industry deploying its disproportionate influence over the ICC. The proposed change, they say, amounts to voter suppression and threatens to delegitimize the code itself, risking splintering the national standard if states and municipalities keen to reduce emissions stop using it.

    Why pollution from buildings matters

    When most people think of the pollution changing the planet’s climate, the images that come to mind are billowing smokestacks at power plants or the smoggy haze that settles over traffic-jammed highways as exhaust pours from automobile tailpipes. Yet blocks of suburban homes and city skylines themselves may deserve similar attention. Buildings account for 40% of all energy consumed in the U.S. and a comparable portion of greenhouse gases produced.

    Buildings are also now increasingly the venue for the next big fight over climate policy. A growing number of cities are setting deadlines to ban natural gas in new construction. San Francisco, New York City and Seattle are three of the latest. That has led some states to push back. Last year, Arizona, Louisiana, Oklahoma and Tennessee all passed state laws barring their cities from exacting such bans. Another 12 states ― Arkansas, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, Texas, and Utah ― are now considering preemption bills of their own, prodded by lobbying and advertising campaigns from gas utilities that see the hookup bans as an existential threat.

    San Francisco skyline
    Cities like San Francisco are setting new energy codes, such as banning natural gas in new construction. But there has been backlash to those efforts in several states. Eric Risberg / AP Photo

    The ICC’s energy code appears to be another phase of that conflict.

    Since the ICC’s energy code became the standard in cities and towns across all 50 states and much of the Caribbean and Latin America more than two decades ago, the model, known as the International Energy Conservation Code, has only undergone two major periods of adjustment. In 2009, advocates pressed for significant improvements, ultimately increasing the efficiency of the code by 11 percent over the 2006 level. In 2012, the code ramped up again, this time with efficiency levels 37 percent greater than 2006.

    The Department of Energy found that the development cycles in both years slashed homeowners’ annual energy costs by 32 percent.

    But tighter rules drew builders’ ire. In 2011, the National Association of Home Builders brokered what The New York Times described as a “secret deal” to stack bureaucratic committees within the ICC and block code changes it opposed. The subsequent 2015 and 2018 codes made only modest 1 percent efficiency improvements. (The National Association of Home Builders defended the agreement, saying it “provides builders a reasonable voice.”)

    “The governmental officials realized the only way to change all this and end this drought in efficiency improvements was to vote,” said Bill Fay, the director the Energy Efficient Codes Coalition, which pushed for more aggressive standards.

    Groups like the coalition and the U.S. Conference of Mayors, which represents cities with populations over 30,000, responded by organizing a get-out-the-vote campaign for ICC, letting government officials from the fire, health, housing, sustainability and utilities departments know they likely qualify to vote.

    Hundreds applied to vote. Not all successfully registered. John Phelan, an energy services manager working for the city of Fort Collins, Colorado, said the ICC rejected four of his colleagues’ registrations. But 30 were able to vote.

    “It was a huge moment,” he said. “Nobody knew until 2018 or 2019 that there was this process built into code adoption that wasn’t being used.”

    The campaign helped secure a code that increased efficiency for commercial buildings more than 10% and efficiency for residential buildings 8% to 14%. That amounts to reductions of as much as 50 million metric tons of carbon dioxide per year by 2030, equal to shutting down 47 coal-fired power plants.

    The backlash

    Yet the record voter turnout drew swift backlash. In a video posted to YouTube, Leading Builders of America Chairman Allan Merrill said the votes raised “serious concerns that the code development process was manipulated to the benefit of special interest groups at the expense of future homebuyers.”

    The National Association of Home Builders decried “an influx of voters who were incorrectly validated for the 2019 code cycle” in a February 2020 letter to ICC CEO Dominic Sims.

    “If the efforts taken to influence and direct the outcome … are left unchecked, the future code development cycles will become a free-for-all,” wrote Gerald Howard, the association’s chief executive.

    Along with the American Gas Association, a trade group for natural gas utilities, the building industry heavyweights appealed 25 measures the ICC’s voters had overwhelmingly approved. The ICC’s three-member appeals board overturned five provisions, including ones making it easier to switch to electric water heaters and requiring builders to include the circuitry for electric vehicle hookups.

    The appeals board then took an unusual step. Though the body normally made suggestions based solely on ideas appellants proposed as part of their appeals, the board introduced its own solution: End voting altogether. It could do so by changing the energy code to a standard, which undergoes a separate bureaucratic process that takes governmental opinion into consideration but does not put the final product to a vote.

    In a lengthy statement, ICC spokesperson Madison Neal said the group “regularly reviews the code development process.” The appeals board, Neal said, concluded that the energy code “would benefit from the additional time for debate and continual updating that is afforded by a standard development process.”

    Advocates saw the proposal as another example of the industry’s influence over the ICC’s bureaucracy. One of the three appeals board members was Anne Anderson, a longtime member of the National Association of Home Builders who has worked closely with the group’s code-making process. The other two were ex-government officials: former New Jersey state official John Terry and former Michigan state code department official Henry Green.

    “You had a person with deep, deep relations with the NAHB who was put on a three-person appeals board that’s going to make a decision on an NAHB-filed appeal,” Fay said.

    The National Association of Home Builders said it “did not ask the ICC appeals board or any appeals board member including Anne Anderson before, during or after the hearing to change the ICC process to a standards process.”

    National Association of Home Builders building
    The National Association of Home Builders has demanded that the International Code Council reconsider the voting eligibility of dozens of city departments that cast ballots in 2019 to improve energy efficiency in new buildings. Jeffrey Greenberg / Universal Images Group via Getty Images

    Anderson denied that she proposed the idea, and said this was her first time serving on an appeals board, so she didn’t know whether it was unusual for members of the board to put forward their own solutions. The idea, which she said one of the other two board members proposed, came in response to an appeal challenging the eligibility of officials from certain city agencies.

    “We couldn’t find enough evidence that there was any voter ineligibility or anything wrong with what happened, per se, per the procedures outlined by the ICC,” Anderson said.

    Still, she said the new majority of voters made mistakes. In one case, she said, the author of a proposal to improve battery storage in solar-equipped homes retracted the proposal, stating during a hearing that there was an error in how it was written. But energy efficiency advocates gave the idea their blessing, and voters approved the flawed proposal anyway, she said.

    “When the proponent says I want you to vote this down and you vote for [it] anyway, that’s a sign,” Anderson said. “We thought maybe this topic needs to be a standard and needs to be developed through the standards methods, which would be more deliberative.”

    Once the appeals board’s recommendation to change the code process went to the ICC’s long-term code planning committee, Craig Drumheller, an assistant vice president at the National Association of Home Builders and a voting member of the committee, endorsed the idea with his own motion. The motion passed 8 to 6 with two abstentions, putting the proposal before the ICC’s executive board for final approval.

    “Going forward, if we’re going to deal with issues like integrating renewables, advancing electrification, and decarbonization, we require a different process,” Clayton Traylor, the vice president of state and regulatory affairs at Leading Builders of America, said during a hearing on the change last month. “If we want to make progressive change over the long haul, we’re going to need a different system.”

    ‘A real problem’

    The next big step was to hold a public hearing in January. City government officials and architects seemed shocked and dismayed at the proposal, and handily outnumbered speakers who wanted to end voting.

    The confusion underscored the proposal’s dramatic shift. On its website, the ICC boasted that the governmental voting process “leaves the final determination of code provisions in the hands of public officials who, with no vested financial interest, can legitimately represent the public interest.”

    In years past, the National Association of Home Builders had actually lamented the low turnout among governmental voters. In a 2016 blog post, Phillip Hoffman, the group’s construction and codes committee chair, called low turnout “a real problem.” In 2018, Drumheller himself called for more voting and praised his organization’s distribution of voter guides to make voting easier.

    Yet the National Association of Home Builders Chair Chuck Fowke struck a markedly different tone at the January hearing.

    “The online vote allows for political manipulation of the outcome,” he said. “The end result is neither desirable nor appropriate. Changing to a standards process … represents the views of the broader ICC membership.”

    The statement reflected what Ron Jones, founder of the trade publication Green Builder, called the building industry’s effort to “tighten their long-standing stranglehold on the policy decisions” at the ICC.

    “Having failed to achieve their goals under a code development process that has long been slanted in their favor already, they have undertaken the current manipulation strategy through a shameless attempt to change the rules in order to once again tilt the playing field to their advantage,” Jones wrote in a December blog post. “All of this is taking place at an alarming pace during the holiday season in hopes of flying under the radar and in time to institute their desired changes prior to the upcoming Inauguration Day.”

    But Fowke may also be identifying a difference in priorities. Developers say the point of codes is to ensure safe, affordable homes, and that they oppose measures that add costs for nominal environmental benefits. City officials and environmentalists bent on slashing emissions might look to the way added insulation, even in homes built in warmer climates, adds up on the grand scale and protects against increasingly unpredictable weather events. Developers, by contrast, see how it adds to the price of the home.

    For example, insulation that adds $1,000 to the cost of the home but only saves about $42 per year in a state like Georgia or Florida “doesn’t make sense,” Anderson said.

    “It’ll take 100 years to pay off,” she said.

    Asked whether this month’s freak winter storm in Texas, where building codes’ lax insulation standards exacerbated blackouts as homes failed to hold in heat and used more and more electricity to stay above freezing, Anderson said people “don’t want to spend money to insulate their homes for something that happens once every 100 years.”

    “It was an outlier, and typically we design our building codes based on historical events,” she said. “Unless you have data that says Texas is getting colder, this event was an outlier.”

    Changing the energy code to a standard would still mean the same governmental officials could vote on other parts of the building code.

    “The irony is if they keep their ICC membership,” Fay said of city officials, “they can vote on the plumbing code. They can vote on the swimming pool code. But they can’t vote on the energy code, which is where they have expertise.”

    Building opposition

    By the time the ICC held a hearing on the change in January, opponents to ending the voting process outnumbered supporters. The proposals to the energy code were largely in line with things cities were already doing, many insisted. Others argued that a unified code will only help the property owners avoid costly retrofits when climate regulations come into force in the years to come, noting that in recent months, San Francisco, New York City, and Seattle all set dates by which gas hookups for new buildings will be banned.

    “Please, please reconsider,” Kevin Burns, the mayor of Geneva, Illinois, pleaded during his testimony.

    “What’s the point of disenfranchising the voices of thousands of governmental members when this process has been so successful?” Christopher Chwedyk, a representative for the American Institute of Architects, said during the hearing. “This is 100% unacceptable.”

    Of the written comments submitted to the ICC since then, 75 percent oppose eliminating voting. Of the 25 percent that supported the change, 54 percent were builders, and 4 percent came from the fossil fuel industry; in particular, the American Gas Association.

    The ICC said replacing the energy code with a standard “would not remove governmental members from the development process” and said it would instead “promote equivalence in voices for standard development, with specific provisions to prevent dominance by any interest category.”

    “The committee would include governmental representatives,” Neal said in the statement.

    In her own written statement, Susan Asmus, a senior vice president at the National Association of Home Builders, said the standards process would “provide for a balanced committee representing a variety of interests, including governmental representatives, that can have more deliberative discussions on issues such as cost-effectiveness and conceptual changes.”

    Still, the effort to end voting has raised some eyebrows. The trade publication Energy News Network covered the proposal, as did New York Times opinion columnist Justin Gillis, who warned in January that “a lobby is trying to block codes that save homeowners money and fight climate change.” The Natural Resources Defense Council, the powerful environmental group that President Joe Biden’s climate czar previously led, called it “a thinly veiled attempt to prevent clean energy progress from happening in the future.”

    Three Democratic committee leaders in the House of Representatives echoed those concerns in a letter to the ICC raising concerns that the National Association of Home Builders’ influence over the code-making process is undermining its “integrity.”

    “Please explain the rationale for this proposal,” Reps. Frank Pallone, a New Jersey Democrat; Bobby Rush, a Democrat from Illinois, and Colorado Democrat Diana DeGette, the chairs of powerful energy committees and subcommittee, wrote in the letter.

    Earlier this month, the ICC’s Sustainability Membership Council voted 6 to 1 to urge the board to reject the proposal to end voting. It’s unclear how much weight that recommendation will carry.

    Cities like Minneapolis aren’t waiting around for the ICC to come in line with its climate targets. Havey, the sustainability director, said the city is working with Governor Tim Walz, a Democrat, and lawmakers in its state legislature to pass stricter new building codes statewide. If the ICC doesn’t keep up, it could just become irrelevant.

    “We’re trying to go any which way we can ― from the state legislature, to public utilities, to the ICC ― to get net-zero buildings,” Havey said. “Every building that’s not net-zero energy is adding to the problem, and then we have to go back after it’s built to fix it. And that’s the most expensive way to do it.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Cities voted for green building codes. Now developers want to end voting. on Mar 1, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    When it comes to the environment, few countries rival Costa Rica in terms of action and ambition.

    The tiny Central American nation is aiming for total decarbonization by 2050, not just a “net-zero” target. It has regrown large areas of tropical rainforest after suffering some of the highest rates of deforestation in the world in the 1970s and 1980s. Costa Ricans play a major role in international environmental politics, most notably Christiana Figueres, who helped to corral world leaders into agreeing the Paris Accord.

    Now Costa Rica has turned its attention to securing an ambitious international agreement on halting biodiversity loss. In January, more than 50 countries committed to the protection of 30 percent of the planet’s land and oceans as part of the High Ambition Coalition (HAC) for Nature and People, spearheaded by Costa Rica, which is a co-chair alongside France and the U.K.

    The coalition hopes the target will become the headline aim for an international agreement on halting biodiversity loss for this decade, set to be negotiated in Kunming, China, later this year.

    “Our approach is to lead by example. As Mandela said, ‘It always seems impossible until it’s done.’” Costa Rican president Carlos Alvarado Quesada told the Guardian. “Conservation is one of the key factors that scientists point out as relevant for protecting biodiversity and also for addressing the climate crisis. But working alone, it’s not as effective.”

    The world has never met a single target to stem the destruction of wildlife and life-sustaining ecosystems. But the 41-year-old leader believes this time might be different.

    Quesada swept to power in April 2018, defeating a conservative evangelical pastor who had campaigned against same-sex marriage. It was a rare victory for a center-left candidate in a time of rising global rightwing populism and led Nobel economist Joseph Stiglitz to conclude that Costa Rica was a beacon of enlightenment for its commitment to reason, rational discourse, science, and freedom.

    But the pandemic and resulting blow to Costa Rica’s ecotourism industry forced Quesada to enter painful negotiations with the International Monetary Fund, or IMF, raising fears of large cuts in a country that puts human development at its core, alongside environmentalism.

    Costa Rica, now an Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development member, has no standing army, invests heavily in education and boasts a universal healthcare system. The prospect of internationally enforced austerity caused rioting in October last year, and Quesada pulled out of talks. In January, the IMF and the Costa Rican government agreed a $1.75 billion package that avoided some of the more controversial proposals.

    Despite the difficult choices, the president said he was encouraged that global action on the environment will result from the pandemic, especially after the election of Joe Biden as U.S. president, with whom he spoke recently.

    “It was a very close conversation. We have lots of things in common. We talked about working together in addressing the climate crisis,” Quesada said. “I think the message of appointing Senator [John] Kerry as ambassador in this area is very strong. It’s going to be a key priority.”

    Quesada did not speak to Donald Trump during the latter’s presidency. But the Costa Rican president said the climate crisis and the breakdown of nature were already causing significant problems in the region, including the migrant caravans heading to the U.S. border that often dominate the concerns of U.S. Republicans.

    “More and more, the real impacts of the climate crisis on our societies is evident. Just in this past year, Central America was hit by two consecutive hurricanes: Hurricane Iota and Hurricane Eta. Particularly in Nicaragua and Honduras, not only in terms of deaths but also in terms of production and the potential in terms of unemployment, the migrations that it could produce mean you cannot only see the storms in isolation as hurricanes,” he said.

    “Scientists say that hurricanes in the region have become more frequent and stronger. This is going to have effects in our societies in terms of economic growth, of jobs, of inequality, of inequality in terms of women, on migration.”

    Alongside larger partners, Costa Rica will continue to encourage other governments to take bold action on biodiversity at Kunming through the HAC for Nature and People. But the road ahead is not easy. The negotiations cover conservation and the sustainable use of nature – a topic that will involve difficult choices about agriculture, chemical use, and resource extraction by far more influential powers.

    Quesada acknowledges these challenges but says that although such issues also exist in Costa Rica, he will continue to focus on being an example.

    “Environmental policies do not necessarily have unanimous consensus. For the past decades, they have been the dominant DNA of Costa Rica but there are also some people saying that perhaps we should be exploiting more. But still, I believe that’s very far away from our DNA.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline ‘It’s in our DNA’: tiny Costa Rica wants the world to take giant step on Feb 25, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Taxes on international transport could provide new flows of finance to developing countries to help them reduce greenhouse gas emissions and cope with the impacts of climate breakdown, a group of climate finance experts have said.

    Rich countries are failing on their pledge to provide $100 billion a year to help poor countries cope with the climate crisis, and the way in which climate finance is organized needs urgent reform, the six academics argue in an article in the journal Nature Climate Change.

    They warn that the methods of accounting for climate finance are deeply flawed, and that failing to reform the system would undermine the trust of developing countries in the Paris Agreement.

    Romain Weikmans, a co-author of the Nature comment and fellow of the Free University of Brussels, said: “There is not a clear accounting system. The definitions of what constitutes climate finance are vague, and there are many flaws and discrepancies. It is impossible for now to say whether the $100 billion pledge has been met or not. The parameters are so vague that it is impossible to give a definitive answer.”

    The group of six experts — from the U.S., Europe, and Bangladesh — call for clear rules on what counts as climate finance. They also suggest that the needs of developing countries should be assessed and plans drawn up for how to meet them, through a global mechanism that would provide longer-term certainty than the current system of ad hoc allocations made each year by rich countries.

    They say charging levies on international flights and on bunker fuels — high-carbon fuels used by ships — could provide a steady stream of climate finance to the countries that need it. Emissions from international aviation and shipping are excluded from countries’ emissions tallies under the Paris Agreement, so there are limited ways at present of encouraging their reduction.

    The pledge that $100 billion from public and private sources would flow to poor countries each year from 2020 has been a keystone of international climate talks since 2009.

    Last year marked the deadline for the pledge’s fulfillment, but because of a time lag in reporting finance, data on how much finance was provided in reality will not be available until next year. Multiple sources suggest the funding provided fell short of the pledge.

    The U.N. secretary general, António Guterres, told the Guardian in December that failure to meet the pledge would be a serious stumbling block to success at COP26, the U.N. climate talks due to take place later this year. He urged developed countries to increase their efforts to meet the target this year and provide assurances for developing countries for the future.

    No formal decisions on climate finance will be made at COP26, but countries are expected to take the first steps towards a renewed finance pledge to be made formally in 2025, which would increase the flows of investment to the poor world. Such a move is seen as essential to the continued back of the developing world for the Paris Agreement.

    Weikmans said COP26 would provide an opportunity for governments to discuss better mechanisms for accounting for climate finance, which should be made clear and transparent.

    He said the pledge on climate finance should be measured against the vast flows of finance each year that tend to increase greenhouse gas emissions, such as fossil fuel investments. “The vast majority of international finance is not climate-compatible,” he told the Guardian. “A big question is how much finance is not compatible with the Paris Agreement. That whole part of the investment landscape needs to be completely transformed.”

    Climate finance serves two purposes: helping poor countries take action to cut their emissions, for instance through investing in renewable energy and phasing out fossil fuels; and helping them cope with the impacts of climate breakdown, which few have the infrastructure to withstand.

    Global emissions were on a rising trend before the COVID-19 pandemic struck, so the former is essential to meet the goals of the Paris Agreement, and if poor countries are not helped to adapt to climate change, decades of progress on lifting people from poverty will be reversed.

    Guterres has said spending on both aims should be roughly equal, but spending on adaptation lags far behind. Adaptation measures are harder to fund, as private investors can gain a clear return from some emissions-cutting efforts, such as building wind turbines or solar energy, but the benefits to erecting flood barriers or restoring mangrove swamps are more diffuse.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Taxes on international transport could provide new flows of finance to developing countries to help them reduce greenhouse gas emissions and cope with the impacts of climate breakdown, a group of climate finance experts have said.

    Rich countries are failing on their pledge to provide $100 billion a year to help poor countries cope with the climate crisis, and the way in which climate finance is organized needs urgent reform, the six academics argue in an article in the journal Nature Climate Change.

    They warn that the methods of accounting for climate finance are deeply flawed, and that failing to reform the system would undermine the trust of developing countries in the Paris Agreement.

    Romain Weikmans, a co-author of the Nature comment and fellow of the Free University of Brussels, said: “There is not a clear accounting system. The definitions of what constitutes climate finance are vague, and there are many flaws and discrepancies. It is impossible for now to say whether the $100 billion pledge has been met or not. The parameters are so vague that it is impossible to give a definitive answer.”

    The group of six experts — from the U.S., Europe, and Bangladesh — call for clear rules on what counts as climate finance. They also suggest that the needs of developing countries should be assessed and plans drawn up for how to meet them, through a global mechanism that would provide longer-term certainty than the current system of ad hoc allocations made each year by rich countries.

    They say charging levies on international flights and on bunker fuels — high-carbon fuels used by ships — could provide a steady stream of climate finance to the countries that need it. Emissions from international aviation and shipping are excluded from countries’ emissions tallies under the Paris Agreement, so there are limited ways at present of encouraging their reduction.

    The pledge that $100 billion from public and private sources would flow to poor countries each year from 2020 has been a keystone of international climate talks since 2009.

    Last year marked the deadline for the pledge’s fulfillment, but because of a time lag in reporting finance, data on how much finance was provided in reality will not be available until next year. Multiple sources suggest the funding provided fell short of the pledge.

    The U.N. secretary general, António Guterres, told the Guardian in December that failure to meet the pledge would be a serious stumbling block to success at COP26, the U.N. climate talks due to take place later this year. He urged developed countries to increase their efforts to meet the target this year and provide assurances for developing countries for the future.

    No formal decisions on climate finance will be made at COP26, but countries are expected to take the first steps towards a renewed finance pledge to be made formally in 2025, which would increase the flows of investment to the poor world. Such a move is seen as essential to the continued back of the developing world for the Paris Agreement.

    Weikmans said COP26 would provide an opportunity for governments to discuss better mechanisms for accounting for climate finance, which should be made clear and transparent.

    He said the pledge on climate finance should be measured against the vast flows of finance each year that tend to increase greenhouse gas emissions, such as fossil fuel investments. “The vast majority of international finance is not climate-compatible,” he told the Guardian. “A big question is how much finance is not compatible with the Paris Agreement. That whole part of the investment landscape needs to be completely transformed.”

    Climate finance serves two purposes: helping poor countries take action to cut their emissions, for instance through investing in renewable energy and phasing out fossil fuels; and helping them cope with the impacts of climate breakdown, which few have the infrastructure to withstand.

    Global emissions were on a rising trend before the COVID-19 pandemic struck, so the former is essential to meet the goals of the Paris Agreement, and if poor countries are not helped to adapt to climate change, decades of progress on lifting people from poverty will be reversed.

    Guterres has said spending on both aims should be roughly equal, but spending on adaptation lags far behind. Adaptation measures are harder to fund, as private investors can gain a clear return from some emissions-cutting efforts, such as building wind turbines or solar energy, but the benefits to erecting flood barriers or restoring mangrove swamps are more diffuse.

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline New taxes on flights could provide poor countries money to fight climate change on Feb 21, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The U.S. has marked its return to the Paris Agreement by urging countries to do more to confront the climate crisis, with America’s climate envoy, John Kerry, warning that international talks this year are the “last, best hope” of avoiding catastrophic global heating.

    On Friday, the U.S. officially returned to the Paris climate accord, 107 days after it left at the behest of former president Donald Trump. Joe Biden moved to reverse this on his first day in office, and Kerry conceded that the U.S. is returning “with a lot of humility, for the agony of the last four years.”

    “This is a significant day, a day that never had to happen,” Kerry said to Al Gore, the former U.S. vice president, in a conversation filmed on the eve of the re-entry. “It’s so sad that our previous president without any scientific basis or any legitimate economic rationale decided to pull America out. It hurt us and it hurt the world.”

    The contrition of the Biden administration is, however, balanced by a desire to resume the mantle of leadership at a time when almost every country is struggling to undertake the swift emissions cuts required to avert disastrous global heating of 1.5 degrees C (2.7 degrees F) above the pre-industrial era, as outlined in the Paris deal.

    Kerry said that none of the world’s major emitters, including China, India and the E.U., are doing enough and that key U.N. climate talks later this year in Glasgow, Scotland, provide the “last, best hope we have” to get the world on track to avoid runaway climate change.

    “The meeting in Glasgow rises in its importance,” said Kerry, a former U.S. secretary of state. “We are at this most critical moment where we have the capacity to define the decade of the 20s which will make or break us to get to net zero carbon in 2050.” Kerry said that countries will have to “define in real terms their roadmap for the next 10 years, the next 30 years. We are talking about a reality we haven’t been able to assemble in these meetings so far.”

    Kerry said that coal use needs to be phased out far more quickly, coupled with a rapid escalation of electric vehicles and renewable energy, and that he hoped to “build some new coalitions and approach this in a new way.” The U.S. climate envoy said he had reached out to the pro-fossil fuel leaderships in Brazil and Australia, which have “had some differences with us, we’ve not been able to get on the same page completely.”

    “For the last four years there were a lot of times when a lot of us thought the failure of this enterprise may rest on one word: Trump,” Kerry said in an event on Friday to mark the Paris re-entry. “But the international climate regime is still standing.”While emissions worldwide from factories, airplanes and cars dipped sharply last year due to pandemic-related lockdowns, there are already signs of a roaring comeback that risks blowing past the agreed temperature limits and unleash worsening heatwaves, flooding, storms and societal unrest. The narrowing window of time to avoid climate breakdown means there is only brief cheering over the return of the U.S., the world’s second largest emitter of greenhouse gases.

    “It’s good to have the U.S. back in the Paris Agreement, but sadly we have no time to celebrate,” said Laurence Tubiana, France’s climate change ambassador and a key architect of the Paris Agreement. “The climate crisis is deepening and this is the year we need all major polluters to step up and deliver stronger plans to deliver a safe, clean and prosperous future for everyone.”

    The U.S. will release a new emissions cut pledge ahead of a 22 April 22nd summit convened by Biden with other major emitting countries and Tubiana said this goal should be “at least” a 50-percent reduction in greenhouse gases by 2030, from 2005 levels. The US, under Barack Obama, promised a 26-percent cut by 2025 and got about halfway to this target before the Covid-19 outbreak.

    A coalition of nearly 200 environmental and humanitarian groups have urged the Biden administration to move well beyond the largely symbolic act of rejoining the Paris Agreement by contributing billions of dollars to help defend poorer countries vulnerable to climate impacts and “lead with actions rather than just words.”

    “The climate crisis is a race against time, and the U.S. is just reaching the starting line after years of inaction,” said Jean Su, energy justice director at the Center for Biological Diversity. “As the world’s largest historical polluter, the United States must take its fair share of robust climate action on both the domestic and global stage.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The U.S. has marked its return to the Paris Agreement by urging countries to do more to confront the climate crisis, with America’s climate envoy, John Kerry, warning that international talks this year are the “last, best hope” of avoiding catastrophic global heating.

    On Friday, the U.S. officially returned to the Paris climate accord, 107 days after it left at the behest of former president Donald Trump. Joe Biden moved to reverse this on his first day in office, and Kerry conceded that the U.S. is returning “with a lot of humility, for the agony of the last four years.”

    “This is a significant day, a day that never had to happen,” Kerry said to Al Gore, the former U.S. vice president, in a conversation filmed on the eve of the re-entry. “It’s so sad that our previous president without any scientific basis or any legitimate economic rationale decided to pull America out. It hurt us and it hurt the world.”

    The contrition of the Biden administration is, however, balanced by a desire to resume the mantle of leadership at a time when almost every country is struggling to undertake the swift emissions cuts required to avert disastrous global heating of 1.5 degrees C (2.7 degrees F) above the pre-industrial era, as outlined in the Paris deal.

    Kerry said that none of the world’s major emitters, including China, India and the E.U., are doing enough and that key U.N. climate talks later this year in Glasgow, Scotland, provide the “last, best hope we have” to get the world on track to avoid runaway climate change.

    “The meeting in Glasgow rises in its importance,” said Kerry, a former U.S. secretary of state. “We are at this most critical moment where we have the capacity to define the decade of the 20s which will make or break us to get to net zero carbon in 2050.” Kerry said that countries will have to “define in real terms their roadmap for the next 10 years, the next 30 years. We are talking about a reality we haven’t been able to assemble in these meetings so far.”

    Kerry said that coal use needs to be phased out far more quickly, coupled with a rapid escalation of electric vehicles and renewable energy, and that he hoped to “build some new coalitions and approach this in a new way.” The U.S. climate envoy said he had reached out to the pro-fossil fuel leaderships in Brazil and Australia, which have “had some differences with us, we’ve not been able to get on the same page completely.”

    “For the last four years there were a lot of times when a lot of us thought the failure of this enterprise may rest on one word: Trump,” Kerry said in an event on Friday to mark the Paris re-entry. “But the international climate regime is still standing.”While emissions worldwide from factories, airplanes and cars dipped sharply last year due to pandemic-related lockdowns, there are already signs of a roaring comeback that risks blowing past the agreed temperature limits and unleash worsening heatwaves, flooding, storms and societal unrest. The narrowing window of time to avoid climate breakdown means there is only brief cheering over the return of the U.S., the world’s second largest emitter of greenhouse gases.

    “It’s good to have the U.S. back in the Paris Agreement, but sadly we have no time to celebrate,” said Laurence Tubiana, France’s climate change ambassador and a key architect of the Paris Agreement. “The climate crisis is deepening and this is the year we need all major polluters to step up and deliver stronger plans to deliver a safe, clean and prosperous future for everyone.”

    The U.S. will release a new emissions cut pledge ahead of a 22 April 22nd summit convened by Biden with other major emitting countries and Tubiana said this goal should be “at least” a 50-percent reduction in greenhouse gases by 2030, from 2005 levels. The US, under Barack Obama, promised a 26-percent cut by 2025 and got about halfway to this target before the Covid-19 outbreak.

    A coalition of nearly 200 environmental and humanitarian groups have urged the Biden administration to move well beyond the largely symbolic act of rejoining the Paris Agreement by contributing billions of dollars to help defend poorer countries vulnerable to climate impacts and “lead with actions rather than just words.”

    “The climate crisis is a race against time, and the U.S. is just reaching the starting line after years of inaction,” said Jean Su, energy justice director at the Center for Biological Diversity. “As the world’s largest historical polluter, the United States must take its fair share of robust climate action on both the domestic and global stage.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline US rejoins Paris accord with warning: This year’s talks are ‘last, best hope’ on Feb 20, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by Mother Jones and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    In early 2020, Wilson Truong posted on the Nextdoor social media platform — where users can send messages to a group in their neighborhood — in a Culver City, California, community. Writing as if he were a resident of the Fox Hills neighborhood, Truong warned the group members that their city leaders were considering stronger building codes that would discourage natural gas lines in newly built homes and businesses. In a message with the subject line “Culver City banning gas stoves?” Truong wrote: “First time I heard about it I thought it was bogus, but I received a newsletter from the city about public hearings to discuss it…Will it pass???!!! I used an electric stove but it never cooked as well as a gas stove so I ended up switching back.”

    Truong’s post ignited a debate. One neighbor, Chris, defended electric induction stoves. “Easy to clean,” he wrote about the glass stovetop, which uses a magnetic field to heat pans. Another user, Laura, was nearly incoherent in her outrage. “No way,” she wrote, “I am staying with gas. I hope you can too.”

    What these commenters didn’t know was that Truong wasn’t their neighbor at all. He was writing in his role as account manager for the public relations firm Imprenta Communications Group. Imprenta’s client was Californians for Balanced Energy Solutions, or C4BES, a front group for SoCalGas, the nation’s largest gas utility, working to fend off state initiatives to limit the future use of gas in buildings. C4BES had tasked Imprenta with exploring how social media platforms, including Nextdoor, could be used to foment community opposition to electrification. Though Imprenta assured me this Nextdoor post was an isolated incident, the C4BES website displays Truong’s comment next to two other anonymous Nextdoor comments as evidence of their advocacy work in action.

    The Nextdoor incident is just one of many examples of the newest front in the gas industry’s war to garner public support for their fuel. As more municipalities have moved to phase gas lines out of new buildings to cut down on methane emissions, gas utilities have gone on the defensive, launching anti-electrification campaigns across the country. To ward off a municipal vote in San Luis Obispo, California, during the pandemic, a union representing gas utility workers threatened to bus in “hundreds” of protesters with “no social distancing in place.” In Santa Barbara, California, residents have received robotexts warning a gas ban would dramatically increase their bills. The Pacific Northwest group Partnership for Energy Progress, funded in part by Washington state’s largest natural gas utility, Puget Sound Energy, has spent at least $1 million opposing heating electrification in Bellingham and Seattle, including $91,000 on bus ads showing a happy family cooking with gas next to the slogan: “Reliable. Affordable. Natural Gas. Here for You.” In Oklahoma, Arizona, Louisiana, and Tennessee, where electrification campaigns have not yet taken off, the industry has worked aggressively with state legislatures to pass laws — up to a dozen are in the works — that would prevent cities from passing cleaner building codes.

    cooking-with-gas
    The industry group American Gas Association has a website dedicated to promoting cooking with gas.

    There’s a good reason for these Herculean efforts: Suddenly, the industry finds itself defending against electrification initiatives nationwide. And the behind-the-scenes lobbying is only one part of its massive anti-electrification crusade. Gas companies have launched an unusually effective stealth campaign of direct-to-consumer marketing to capture the loyalty and imaginations of the public. Surveys have found that most people would just as soon switch their water heaters and furnaces from gas to electric versions. So, gas companies have found a different appliance to focus on: gas stoves. Thanks in large part to gas company advertising, gas stoves — like granite countertops, farm sinks, and stainless-steel refrigerators — have become a coveted kitchen symbol of wealth, discernment, and status, not to mention a selling point for builders and realtors.

    Until now, the stove strategy has been remarkably successful. But as electrification initiatives gain momentum, gas companies’ job is getting harder. Now that the industry is getting desperate, parts of its public relations infrastructure have begun cooling on this once-hot client.


    Gas connections in American houses are at an all-time high. The share of gas stoves in newly constructed single-family homes climbed from below 30 percent in the 1970s to around 50 percent in 2019 (the data obviously excludes apartment buildings). Today, gas usage for heating, water, and cooking is uneven across the country. Data show 35 percent of Americans use a gas stove, though in some of the most populous cities — particularly those in New York, Illinois, and California — well over 70 percent of the population relies on gas for cooking. Residences also make up the lion’s share of the gas utility profits, making gas appliances a pivotal source for the future of industry growth.

    Yet the popularity of gas may soon begin to wane. Americans are waking up to the fact that natural gas is a powerful contributor to climate change and source of air pollution — and that’s not even counting gas pipelines’ tendency to leak and explode. Climate emissions from gas- and oil-powered buildings make up a full 12 percent of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions. Just a couple of decades ago, electricity wasn’t the obviously cleaner choice. Now it’s the main strategy for cleaning stubborn sources of pollution. If homes are fully electric, they’re bound to rely increasingly on renewable energy like solar and wind, but every new home that connects to the gas grid today will still be using fossil fuels in 15 years, no matter how much we clean up the electricity sector.

    Already at least 42 municipalities across the United States have strengthened building codes to discourage expanding gas hookups in new construction, and the pace is picking up. New York City may soon join that number, while Seattle has settled for a compromise that bans gas appliances in commercial and multifamily homes without technically banning the stove in new construction. In 2021, Washington state will propose bans for gas furnaces and heating after 2030. California regulators have faced pressure to pass the most aggressive standards in the nation to make all newly constructed buildings electric by 2023. President Joe Biden’s campaign promised to implement new appliance and building-efficiency standards. Even with all the gas industry lobbying on the state level, more stringent federal rules could motivate builders to ditch gas hookups for good in new construction.

    The dangers of gas stoves go beyond just heating the planet — they can also cause serious health problems. Gas stoves emit a host of dangerous pollutants, including particulate matter, formaldehyde, carbon monoxide, and nitrogen dioxide. Carbon monoxide poisoning is a known killer, which homeowners assume can be prevented with detectors. But new research shows that the standard sensor doesn’t always pick up potentially dangerous carbon monoxide emissions — if a home even has working sensor at all. Nitrogen dioxide, which is not regulated indoors, has been linked to an increased risk of heart attacks, asthma, and other respiratory disease. In May, a literature review by the think tank RMI highlighted EPA research that found homes with gas stoves have anywhere between 50 and 400 percent higher concentrations of nitrogen dioxide than homes without. Children are especially at risk, according to a study by UCLA Fielding School of Public Health commissioned by Sierra Club: Epidemiological research suggests that kids in homes with gas stoves are 42 percent more likely to have asthma than children in homes with electric stoves. Running a stove and oven for just 45 minutes can produce pollution levels that would be illegal outdoors. One 2014 simulation by the Berkeley National Laboratory found that cooking with gas greatly increases carbon monoxide pollution by adding up to 3,000 parts per billion of carbon monoxide into the air after an hour — raising indoor carbon monoxide concentrations up to one-third for the average home.

    Shelly Miller, a University of Colorado, Boulder, environmental engineer who has studied indoor air quality for decades, explains that household gas combustion is essentially the same as in a car. “Cooking,” she added, “is the number one way you’re polluting your home. It is causing respiratory and cardiovascular health problems; it can exacerbate flu and asthma and COPD [chronic obstructive pulmonary disease] in children.” Without ventilation, “you’re basically living in this toxic soup.”


    Over the last century, the gas industry has worked wonders to convince Americans that cooking with a gas flame is superior to using electric heat. Gas companies have urged us not to think too hard — if at all — about what it means to combust a fossil fuel in our homes.

    The gas and electric industries have been in a tug-of-war for dominance in buildings for well over a century. In the early 1900s, gas utilities looked “to other uses for their product; hence the intensive campaign in favor of cooking with gas,” a 1953 newspaper story from the Indiana Terre Haute Tribune reported. The story explains that “gas salesmen knocked on many doors before housewives would turn to gas for cooking fuel.” The industry embraced the term “natural gas,” which gave the impression that its product was cleaner than any other fossil fuel: A 1934 ad bragged, “The discovery of Natural Gas brought to man the greater and most efficient heating fuel which the world has ever known. Justly is it called — nature’s perfect fuel.”

    In the 1930s, the industry invented the catchphrase “cooking with gas,” and by the 1950s it was targeting housewives with star-studded commercials of matinee idols scheming how to get their husbands to renovate their kitchens. In a newspaper advertisement by the Pennsylvania People’s Natural Gas Company in 1964, the star Marlene Dietrich vouched, “Every recipe I give is closely related to cooking with gas. If forced, I can cook on an electric stove but it is not a happy union.” (That was around the same time General Electric waged an advertising campaign starring future president Ronald Reagan that showed an all-electric house as the Jetson-like future for a modern home.) In 1988 the industry produced a cringeworthy rap about stoves. “I cook with gas cause the cost is much less/ Than ‘lectricity, do you want to take a guess?” and “I cook with gas cause broiling’s so clean/ The flame consumes the smoke and grease.”

    Beginning in the 1990s, the gas industry faced an extra challenge: the mounting evidence that gas in our homes causes serious health problems. Its main strategy has been to exploit the lack of regulation and the uncertainties of science to help lull the public into indifference. Environmentalists say the strategy harks back to how the tobacco industry fought evidence of the dangers of smoking.

    The industry claims that there are no documented risks to one’s health from gas stoves, citing the lack of regulation from the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission and the EPA as evidence of why the public shouldn’t be concerned. (To be clear, the EPA has not said gas stoves are safe. Indeed, its 2016 Integrated Science Assessment was the first time the agency linked short-term and long-term exposure to nitrogen dioxide to health problems like asthma. UCLA public health researchers found that indoor nitrogen dioxide emissions from running a stove and oven can rival that from outdoor levels the EPA would consider illegal. Indeed, UCLA data shows California’s biggest source of nitrogen dioxide emissions comes not from power plants, but from gas appliances.)

    The industry also claims that proper ventilation mitigates some of the risks of cooking with gas. That’s true, but mostly impractical: Many American families can’t afford to install an exhaust hood, a chimney-like vent that sucks up the emissions and releases them outside, and there’s certainly no regulation requiring it. Instead, most homes just have fans above the stove that recirculate the polluted air inside the home, or nothing at all. Because of dated building codes and an unregulated market, low-income Americans have to put up with gas filling their homes with invisible pollutants in cramped spaces.

    In the last few years, the industry has encountered increasing resistance to its claims that natural gas is perfectly safe. Last June, I published a piece that exposed how gas groups representing utilities hired social media influencers to convince millennials and Gen Xers that gas stoves are the superior way to cook. The two main campaigns are the work of the gas trade groups the American Public Gas Association, a collection of public and municipal utilities, and the American Gas Association, which is comprised of privately owned utilities. These groups have hired prominent public relations firms to seek out influencers who emphasize — and whose presence embodies — the cool factor of gas cooking while mentioning none of the risks. In fact, in the posts I reviewed, none of the influencers appeared to have a hood over their stoves, or even to mention ventilation. I knew I had caught the industry’s attention with the story when many of the Instagram posts embedded in the piece were soon deleted, and I started receiving long, mostly unsolicited emails from the industry’s various consultants.

    I didn’t know how they had reacted to the negative press until I read a trove of emails obtained through a public records request by the fossil fuel watchdog Climate Investigations Center. According to the emails, representatives from the public relations firm Porter Novelli reached out to their client, the American Public Gas Association, which then asked gas executives at several utilities if its campaign should be paused in light of the backlash. The answer was a definitive no. “They should not stop for even 1 hour,” one utility executive, industry veteran Sue Kristjansson, replied in an email. “And…. if they are saying that we are paying influencers to gush over gas stoves so be it. Of course we are and maybe we should pay them to gush more?”

    The emails show gas executives debating their next move: Some thought they should tell the influencers to emphasize guidance around proper ventilation for gas stoves; others, including Kristjansson, wanted to downplay the risks posed by gas stoves altogether. Kristjansson worried that giving even an inch to the critics would be the same as admitting defeat. “If we wait to promote natural gas stoves until we have scientific data that they are not causing any air quality issues we’ll be done,” Kristjansson wrote.

    (Since she sent those emails, Kristjansson has moved on to become the president of Berkshire Gas in Massachusetts. When I reached her for comment about her dismissal of the science, the utility sent me a statement on her behalf, repeating familiar claims: “The science around the safe use of natural gas for cooking is clear: there are no documented risks to respiratory health from natural gas stoves from the regulatory and advisory agencies and organizations responsible for protecting residential consumer health and safety.”)

    Yet Kristjannson’s hard-liner approach of downplaying the health risks of natural gas seems to be losing favor. Take the example of Kate Arends, the founder of Wit and Delight, a polished lifestyle website for “designing a life well-lived,” and an Instagram account with more than 300,000 followers. Arends’ brand fits perfectly into the affluent female demographic that the gas industry wants to target — and indeed, at least one of Arends’ posts is sponsored by the American Public Gas Association, or APGA.

    A week after my story was published, Porter Novelli contacted APGA again, wanting more guidance on how to communicate on “issues related to ventilation,” on behalf of Arends, who wanted to make sure the health and safety information she shared with her followers was accurate. Months passed — by fall I had not seen any sponsored posts from Arends and wondered if she had dropped the sponsorship.

    In late October, Arends ran a post sponsored by Natural Gas Genius, the campaign run by APGA: “An Exercise in Candlemaking and the Comforts of a Roaring Fire.” In a 600-word post festooned with photos of her exquisitely decorated and brightly colored home, Arends explained her decision to replace her old wood-burning fireplace with a natural gas model, while extolling the wonders of her gas stove.

    Tellingly, Arends’ post includes a note that shows how influencers and the industry have grown savvier on the delicate issue of air quality. “If natural gas is the right choice for your family,” she wrote, “ventilation and air quality are the things to keep top of mind.” It was the first time I had seen an influencer acknowledge the need for ventilation when using a gas appliance. Could it be, I wondered, that these pseudo-celebrities were beginning to have misgivings about their beloved gas stoves?


    So far, every city that has tried to pass cleaner building codes has faced an onslaught of gas industry attacks. Sierra Club’s Western Regional Director Evan Gillespie remembers how quickly the gas utility SoCalGas had ramped up its presence just two years ago when one obscure California agency, the South Coast Air Quality District, sought to look at the full emissions impact from gas appliances. Gas groups sent one representative to one meeting, then three to the next, and seven to the third, accounting for a full third of the small meeting’s attendance. Leah Stokes, a political science professor at University of California, Santa Barbara, and the author of a book on utility astroturfing, described the unsettling experience in January of seeing how quickly the SoCalGas-aligned Californians for Balanced Energy Solutions swamped the Santa Barbara council after sending residents texts and emails warning of higher electricity rates and gas stove bans.santa-barbara-edit

    But the tables seem to be turning. In November, the powerful environmental regulators at the California Air Resources Board issued an unequivocal statement establishing that gas stoves cause indoor air pollution. The board’s announcement could be a game-changer for cities still on the fence about electrification by recommending “stronger kitchen ventilation standards and electrification of appliances, including stoves, ovens, furnaces, and space and water heaters, in the 2022 code cycle for all new buildings in order to protect public health, improve indoor and outdoor air quality, reduce GHG emissions, and set California on track to achieve carbon neutrality.” The statement marked the first time any major public agency recommended a change of policy to match the science of stoves and indoor air pollution.

    Environmentalists liken the move away from gas to the inevitability of coal’s demise in the power sector. They say it’s not a matter of if buildings go electric, but when. If the California Energy Commission declines to issue the all-electric standards for 2022, then it is expected to strengthen ventilation standards, and eventually to ban gas in new construction in 2026. The possibility of a gas ban has sent the industry scrambling: In the event that California’s most populous cities — which account for 8 percent of the nation’s greenhouse gasses for buildings — ban gas hookups in new construction, other states are likely to follow suit.

    “If we’re able to get gas bans in new buildings, then these gas companies are losing their growth, they’re losing their new market share, and they’re going to start shrinking,” said Stokes. “With private companies, that sort of downward spiral becomes very problematic, because then investors start to think this isn’t a good company to invest in, or they don’t have a future. The fights that are playing out in California and New York are really bellwethers for the gas industry overall.”

    Just as with coal, the pervasive use of natural gas is becoming unjustifiable from both an environmental and a public health perspective. And public relations firms are noticing. In November, Porter Novelli announced that it would drop the American Public Gas Association as a client and would cease its participation in the Natural Gas Genius Campaign. While Porter Novelli declined to comment for this story, the firm’s global chief of staff Maggie Graham explained to the New Yorker, “We have determined our work with the American Public Gas Association is incongruous with our increased focus and priority on addressing climate justice — we will no longer support that work beyond 2020.”

    Another recent example of a PR firm parting ways with a gas client happened in Culver City, where Truong made the pro-gas Nextdoor post. When I asked C4BES’s public relations company, Imprenta, about the effort to garner pro-gas stove community support, vice president Joe Zago distanced his company from the incident. He told me he wasn’t aware that Truong had posted the Nextdoor comment himself. Zago said C4BES had tasked Imprenta to find a sympathetic resident of the middle-class Fox Hills neighborhood to post a statement supporting C4BES’s position. Under time pressure, Zago said, “our staff member, on his own behalf, decided to move ahead and post under his own name. He made this post on his own without direction or approval from anyone at Imprenta and without the knowledge of Imprenta or our client.” When I reached out to C4BES for comment, the group’s executive director Jon Switalski responded that his group “supports California’s goals to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, however an ideological solution that places increased burdens on working families is not the only path to decarbonization.” Imprenta told me that its contract with C4BES expired in February 2020. (The groups are also the subject of a California consumer advocacy investigation about improperly using ratepayers’ dollars for other campaigns against electrification.)

    Environmentalists point to the examples of PR firms dropping their gas-industry clients as evidence of a shift in public sentiment on gas. “I think people’s perception of what it means to have a gas stove changes pretty quickly,” Gillespie said. Consumers are beginning to realize, “I’m burning fossil fuels with an open flame in my house, and it’s contributing to asthma my kid has; it’s harming my mom, my dad, and my grandparents.”

    The gas industry has spent a century convincing Americans to fall in love with gas stoves, and there’s no telling how it will recover if that relationship sours. As the public begins to fully understand the environmental and health risks of what used to be their favorite appliance, Gillespie predicts, “what was long seen as this great strength of the industry is actually their greatest weakness.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How the fossil fuel industry convinced Americans to love gas stoves on Feb 17, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by HuffPost and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The Ikea store in Queens, New York, which opened on January 14, marked a decided departure for the iconic home furnishings brand. Located in the Rego Park Shopping Center, the 11,500-square-foot open layout — a new, smaller format for Ikea — is divided into core areas of the home, offering small-space solutions tailored to city living. Rooms are thoughtfully merchandised with easily portable accessories like lamps and throw pillows that customers can take with them on the bus or subway, both of which are a block away — a key factor in choosing the store’s location, given that more than half of city residents use public transportation.

    Digital stations allow shoppers to self-pay and arrange furniture delivery for bigger pieces for a flat fee of $49. The company is working to make all last-mile deliveries in New York City by electric vehicle, according to Jennifer Keesson, country sustainability manager for Ikea U.S. — a test run on the way to making the last mile of its more than 2 million annual home deliveries nationwide zero emissions by 2025.

    The Swedish powerhouse set out 80 years ago “to create a better everyday life for the many people” — as its motto goes — by putting sleek, stylish home furnishings within the budgets of the masses, and became a $35.4 billion (2020 revenues) market force in the process. And just as the brand is widely credited with democratizing design, it’s now moving to make sustainable living the norm rather than the exception, with a sprawling strategy that’s wildly ambitious in scope.

    Ikea’s overarching goal is to become “climate positive” by 2030 — reducing more greenhouse gas emissions, or GHGs, than its entire value chain emits. It plans to do this while still growing its business by designing new products, moving into new markets, and building dozens, perhaps hundreds, of new stores in that time. The company is charging ahead with plans to open 50 more stores (of various sizes and formats) in 2021 alone.

    Expanding its retail footprint on a warming planet may seem to fly directly in the face of Ikea’s plan to reduce its colossal climate footprint. In the last year, moves to decrease energy use across the business, from manufacturing to what it serves in its restaurants, have reduced its climate footprint per product sold by 7 percent, the company estimates. Meeting its 2030 target while selling ever more will mean cutting the average climate footprint per product by 70 percent.

    Given that Ikea emitted the equivalent of 24.9 million tons of carbon dioxide in 2019 — accounting for 0.1 percent of the world’s GHG emissions that year — it’s a Herculean undertaking that encompasses virtually every element of its business, from the materials it sources through product manufacturing and transport. Emissions reductions will also come from efforts to pull carbon out of the atmosphere (without the use of carbon offsets) and influence supplier and customer behavior.

    Making products last longer, and giving old products second lives, is a central pillar of its climate ambitions: Ikea aims to become a “100 percent circular business” by 2030. That means creating home goods that not only meet Ikea’s definition of “democratic design” — affordable, high-quality, sustainable, stylish, and functional — but also can be reused, refurbished, recycled, or remanufactured into new items.

    Materials contribute the most to Ikea’s overall climate footprint, followed by the use of products in customer homes. Squeezing carbon savings out of those budgets poses the greatest hurdles toward meeting its ambitious targets, which were set to align with the Paris climate accord goal of keeping global warming below 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels.

    “An increasing number of companies have said they’ll be climate positive by 2040 or 2050, but relatively few have said 2030,” said Andrew Winston, a corporate sustainability strategist and author of “The Big Pivot.” “Ikea’s challenge is also much more complicated because they manufacture tons of different products — unlike a company like Google, which has also set incredibly aggressive goals.”

    The sprawling infrastructure and commercial leverage that enables the company to manufacture and sell millions of products is exactly what Ikea is banking on to realize its climate goals.

    “Obviously the consumption model of the 1900s that we were part of will not work in the future, because we’re consuming more than the planet can provide,” said Ingka Group CEO Jesper Brodin on a Harvard Business Review podcast last December. Ingka Group is the largest of 12 strategic partners in Ikea’s franchise system, operating 380 Ikea stores around the world.

    “I love mass production,” said Brodin, “because if you put it in the right aspect, you can scale up change so much better and faster. If you can scale something that’s climate-positive, that’s probably the best and fastest way of doing it — and bring the cost down so sustainability doesn’t become something that’s only for those who can afford it.”

    Seeing the forest for the trees

    Arguably few companies, particularly in the retail industry, have Ikea’s vision and knack for innovation. Founded in 1943 by the late Ingvar Kamprad — the name is an acronym of his initials, his family farm (Elmtaryd), and his birthplace (Agunnaryd) — it quickly became known for low prices. Chagrined competitors tried to pressure suppliers to boycott the brand, driving Kamprad to start designing products in-house and thinking early about moving beyond his home market.

    Ikea shifted to flat-pack, self-assembly products in 1953 to minimize shipping costs and damage to mail-order deliveries. In 1970, the first self-service area was opened at Ikea’s flagship store near Stockholm, which allowed customers to walk out with flat-pack furniture in hand to assemble at home. The debut of Ikea’s first store outside of Scandinavia, in Switzerland, in 1973 set the stage for international expansion: Ikea is now the world’s largest home furnishings business, with nearly 530 stores (including test formats and planning studios) in more than 50 countries.

    The seeds of Ikea’s shift to sustainability were planted (literally) in 1998, with the launch of the “Sow a Seed” Foundation, which sought to rehabilitate large swaths of rainforest lost to logging and forest fires in Malaysian Borneo. Over the next two decades, Ikea funded the replanting of 3 million trees across 31,000 now-protected acres of rainforest.

    Sustainable forestry has long been a key focus of the brand, for good reason. Ikea uses wood in 60 percent of its products. Last year, it used just under 671 million cubic feet of wood (enough to fill 18 Empire State Buildings) in home furnishings and packaging, most of it from Poland, Russia, Belarus, Sweden, and Germany. About 12 percent of it was recycled and nearly all the rest was certified by the Forest Stewardship Council, a nonprofit group that promotes responsible forestry (Ikea is a founding member), meaning its harvesting did not contribute to deforestation.

    Ikea still runs into criticism from time to time. Last year, the company was accused of illegally sourcing wood from Ukraine; a third-party independent investigation found no evidence of such timber in its supply chain, attributing the allegations to ambiguity surrounding the law concerning certain forest management practices. FSC is now working to resolve the issue.

    Wood as a resource is under threat from deforestation, wildfires, pests, and other climate change impacts. The brand’s commitment to sustainable forest management is intended to ensure that its most critical raw material remains in sufficient supply. It also aims to enhance biodiversity, support those whose livelihoods are forest-dependent and protect vital carbon-sequestering trees. A big chunk of the company’s emissions reductions rely on keeping carbon locked up in the plants and soils of healthy forests.

    To that end, Ikea invests heavily in forestland, where the company can reap carefully managed timber. Earlier this month, Ingka Group announced its acquisition of nearly 11,000 forested acres in southeast Georgia from The Conservation Fund, assuming its legally binding obligations to protect the land from fragmentation, restore trees, and protect wildlife. The company now owns 136,000 acres of forest across five states, and some 613,000 acres combined in the U.S. and Europe.

    Material change

    “Seventy percent of our footprint comes from materials,” said Pia Heidenmark Cook, Ingka Group’s chief sustainability officer. “So the products we put on the market, the materials we choose and where we source them from are critical.”

    Ikea is taking a close look at its entire supply chain, said Cook, with the goal of using only recycled or renewable materials (like sustainably sourced wood and cotton) in its over 9,500 products by 2030. Today 10 percent of products contain recycled material, such as plastic and polyester, and 60 percent contain renewable materials.

    The company has so far mapped out how to achieve half its materials footprint reduction goals for 2030 and has to figure out how to get the rest of the way there.

    In the December podcast, Brodin called raw materials the most challenging part of the sustainability equation, noting that materials R&D has been one of the brand’s top investment priorities for nearly a decade.

    “In terms of material innovation, the majority of investment is connected to our sustainability agenda — to find new materials that have a smaller climate or water footprint than what we use today,” said Cook.

    Laminated veneer lumber, or LVL, is one material showing promise. A relatively new engineered product, it comprises multiple thin layers of wood glued together and cuts down on wood consumption by up to 40 percent. Its strength is comparable to metal in some applications, making it a potentially viable substitute for steel and aluminum, which have a high climate footprint due to their energy-intensive production process.

    Another project explores using rice straw — a harvesting residue that’s typically burned and contributes to air pollution in places like northern India — as a new renewable material source.

    Ikea has also partnered with clothing retailer H&M and forest products manufacturer Stora Enso to invest in Tree To Textile, a company that transforms wood cellulose into a sustainable textile fiber that could potentially serve as an alternative to cotton, Ikea’s second-most-used raw material behind wood. Last year, the brand used nearly 142,000 tons of the water-intensive crop — 0.5 percent of cotton production worldwide.

    So far, alternative materials are still in testing phases or limited use. Ikea’s rice-straw product prototypes debuted as the FÖRÄNDRING (“change” in Swedish) collection of rugs, bowls, and baskets at stores in India last year, with limited volumes in a few European markets.

    Should the company determine these new materials are viable, it will take years to update designs, adapt supply chains, and bring production to scale. But the advantage of Ikea’s size and clout means that if the company does identify any breakthrough renewable materials, it could push suppliers to get on board.

    “Ikea is fairly unique in its ability to tell a potential supplier, ‘If you can’t meet our terms, we’ll find someone else who will,’” said Tom Eggert, a senior lecturer on business sustainability at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “Whether it’s a wood alternative or plant-based plastics or something else entirely, they have the buying power to create a market where one may not yet exist.”

    While cheap sofas and tables are the company’s bread and butter, the brand is one of the world’s largest food sellers: 680 million customers visited its food outlets in 2019. It sells a billion of its signature Swedish meatballs a year.

    A worker prepares to serve chicken meatballs in an IKEA store. NOAH SEELAM / AFP via Getty Images

    But meat is an ecological nightmare — livestock production accounts for more than 14 percent of total global greenhouse emissions and is a leading cause of deforestation. So Ikea is retooling its menu. The company has sold over 5 million veggie hot dogs since unveiling them in 2018. Last August, it introduced the HUVUDROLL plant ball, an alternative to its iconic meatball. With ingredients like pea protein and potatoes, it mimics meat’s taste and texture (unlike the brand’s veggie balls, which debuted in 2015), with a climate footprint that’s only 4 percent of the beef-and-pork original.

    The company aims to make 50 percent of its restaurant entrees plant-based by 2025, and 80 percent of them non-red meat (of animals raised for food, cows and pigs are the biggest GHG contributors). The brand’s packaged food will also be 80 percent plant-based within five years.

    Ikea’s other not-so-small side hustle is helping eliminate fossil fuels from its retail operations and production: The company is striving for 100 percent renewable energy across its entire value chain by 2030 — including helping secure 100 percent renewable electricity for its nearly 1,600 suppliers. Ikea has been investing in solutions like solar and wind farms around the world since 2009. Its clean energy portfolio now includes 547 wind turbines and two solar farms in 14 countries, and more than 920,000 solar panels on the roofs of Ikea stores and warehouses.

    Last year, for the first time, Ingka Group generated more renewable energy — by a third — than it consumed globally in retail and distribution operations.

    “Ikea is very much ahead of the curve in retail,” said Winston. “They were one of the biggest renewable energy purchasers before the big tech companies started their buying sprees.”

    Widening the circle

    In order to realize its vision of becoming 100 percent circular by 2030 — eliminating waste by keeping materials and finished products in use — Ikea must not only make products out of recycled and recyclable materials, but also convince its hundreds of millions of customers to recycle or reuse them.

    “A truly circular economy approach is going to have to deal with end of life of products in a totally revolutionary way compared with their current business model,” said ecological economist Tim Jackson, author of the upcoming book “Post Growth: Life After Capitalism.”

    The company is exploring how to entice customers to do their part.

    During its #BuyBackFriday campaign late last year — conceived as an alternative to traditional Black Friday marketing blitzes — Ikea stores in 27 countries offered to buy back and resell thousands of used home furnishings. Customers received vouchers worth between 30 percent and 50 percent of their item’s original price, depending on its condition. (Anything that couldn’t be resold was recycled or donated to COVID-19 community outreach projects.) Down the road, as the company develops its methods, a bought-back chair could be stripped to its frame, polished, painted, and reshaped into a new chair.

    Ikea is turning their “as-is” sections — where last year, 30.5 million discontinued and seasonal items, floor samples and customer returns were sold at discounted prices — into “circular hubs.” Customers can bargain hunt for second hand furnishings while picking up tips on fixing, cleaning or hacking their Ikea products. There are plans to launch hubs in half of Ikea’s stores by the end of the year.

    Ikea’s first entirely secondhand store, a six-month test project, debuted in Eskilstuna, Sweden, last November.

    “The perception of Ikea as a mass producer of stuff that doesn’t last very long has probably been its biggest Achilles’ heel,” Winston said. “This relatively new effort to change the lifecycle of their products by refurbishing, reselling, or entirely recycling them is probably one of the most important things that they’re doing.”

    Jackson put a fine point on it: “#BuyBackFriday was a symbolic gesture. It needs to be an everyday reality.”

    Cook says Ikea’s challenge “is to make sustainable living mainstream.” The company has had some past success. Back in 2015, when the most popular alternatives to inefficient incandescent light bulbs were halogens and compact fluorescent lamps, Ikea switched all its lighting products to light-emitting diodes (LEDs), believing that it could build an economy of scale and make LEDs a commercial success. The bulbs sold for about $7 at the time; they now cost less than $1 each and Ikea sold 56 million of them in 2019.

    “In general, we are always trying to support the education of our customers [on] how to live a more sustainable and a healthier life at home,” Keesson said.

    It’s reasonable to question how any company with a business model based on selling more and more stuff can expand in a truly sustainable way. Some argue that with a burgeoning global middle class on the rise and eager to spend their disposable income, we need companies that will make the effort to stay within the limits of what the planet can provide.

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Ikea’s ambitious plan to make its cheap furniture last forever on Feb 13, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by HuffPost and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The Ikea store in Queens, New York, which opened on January 14, marked a decided departure for the iconic home furnishings brand. Located in the Rego Park Shopping Center, the 11,500-square-foot open layout — a new, smaller format for Ikea — is divided into core areas of the home, offering small-space solutions tailored to city living. Rooms are thoughtfully merchandised with easily portable accessories like lamps and throw pillows that customers can take with them on the bus or subway, both of which are a block away — a key factor in choosing the store’s location, given that more than half of city residents use public transportation.

    Digital stations allow shoppers to self-pay and arrange furniture delivery for bigger pieces for a flat fee of $49. The company is working to make all last-mile deliveries in New York City by electric vehicle, according to Jennifer Keesson, country sustainability manager for Ikea U.S. — a test run on the way to making the last mile of its more than 2 million annual home deliveries nationwide zero emissions by 2025.

    The Swedish powerhouse set out 80 years ago “to create a better everyday life for the many people” — as its motto goes — by putting sleek, stylish home furnishings within the budgets of the masses, and became a $35.4 billion (2020 revenues) market force in the process. And just as the brand is widely credited with democratizing design, it’s now moving to make sustainable living the norm rather than the exception, with a sprawling strategy that’s wildly ambitious in scope.

    Ikea’s overarching goal is to become “climate positive” by 2030 — reducing more greenhouse gas emissions, or GHGs, than its entire value chain emits. It plans to do this while still growing its business by designing new products, moving into new markets, and building dozens, perhaps hundreds, of new stores in that time. The company is charging ahead with plans to open 50 more stores (of various sizes and formats) in 2021 alone.

    Expanding its retail footprint on a warming planet may seem to fly directly in the face of Ikea’s plan to reduce its colossal climate footprint. In the last year, moves to decrease energy use across the business, from manufacturing to what it serves in its restaurants, have reduced its climate footprint per product sold by 7 percent, the company estimates. Meeting its 2030 target while selling ever more will mean cutting the average climate footprint per product by 70 percent.

    Given that Ikea emitted the equivalent of 24.9 million tons of carbon dioxide in 2019 — accounting for 0.1 percent of the world’s GHG emissions that year — it’s a Herculean undertaking that encompasses virtually every element of its business, from the materials it sources through product manufacturing and transport. Emissions reductions will also come from efforts to pull carbon out of the atmosphere (without the use of carbon offsets) and influence supplier and customer behavior.

    Making products last longer, and giving old products second lives, is a central pillar of its climate ambitions: Ikea aims to become a “100 percent circular business” by 2030. That means creating home goods that not only meet Ikea’s definition of “democratic design” — affordable, high-quality, sustainable, stylish, and functional — but also can be reused, refurbished, recycled, or remanufactured into new items.

    Materials contribute the most to Ikea’s overall climate footprint, followed by the use of products in customer homes. Squeezing carbon savings out of those budgets poses the greatest hurdles toward meeting its ambitious targets, which were set to align with the Paris climate accord goal of keeping global warming below 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels.

    “An increasing number of companies have said they’ll be climate positive by 2040 or 2050, but relatively few have said 2030,” said Andrew Winston, a corporate sustainability strategist and author of “The Big Pivot.” “Ikea’s challenge is also much more complicated because they manufacture tons of different products — unlike a company like Google, which has also set incredibly aggressive goals.”

    The sprawling infrastructure and commercial leverage that enables the company to manufacture and sell millions of products is exactly what Ikea is banking on to realize its climate goals.

    “Obviously the consumption model of the 1900s that we were part of will not work in the future, because we’re consuming more than the planet can provide,” said Ingka Group CEO Jesper Brodin on a Harvard Business Review podcast last December. Ingka Group is the largest of 12 strategic partners in Ikea’s franchise system, operating 380 Ikea stores around the world.

    “I love mass production,” said Brodin, “because if you put it in the right aspect, you can scale up change so much better and faster. If you can scale something that’s climate-positive, that’s probably the best and fastest way of doing it — and bring the cost down so sustainability doesn’t become something that’s only for those who can afford it.”

    Seeing the forest for the trees

    Arguably few companies, particularly in the retail industry, have Ikea’s vision and knack for innovation. Founded in 1943 by the late Ingvar Kamprad — the name is an acronym of his initials, his family farm (Elmtaryd), and his birthplace (Agunnaryd) — it quickly became known for low prices. Chagrined competitors tried to pressure suppliers to boycott the brand, driving Kamprad to start designing products in-house and thinking early about moving beyond his home market.

    Ikea shifted to flat-pack, self-assembly products in 1953 to minimize shipping costs and damage to mail-order deliveries. In 1970, the first self-service area was opened at Ikea’s flagship store near Stockholm, which allowed customers to walk out with flat-pack furniture in hand to assemble at home. The debut of Ikea’s first store outside of Scandinavia, in Switzerland, in 1973 set the stage for international expansion: Ikea is now the world’s largest home furnishings business, with nearly 530 stores (including test formats and planning studios) in more than 50 countries.

    The seeds of Ikea’s shift to sustainability were planted (literally) in 1998, with the launch of the “Sow a Seed” Foundation, which sought to rehabilitate large swaths of rainforest lost to logging and forest fires in Malaysian Borneo. Over the next two decades, Ikea funded the replanting of 3 million trees across 31,000 now-protected acres of rainforest.

    Sustainable forestry has long been a key focus of the brand, for good reason. Ikea uses wood in 60 percent of its products. Last year, it used just under 671 million cubic feet of wood (enough to fill 18 Empire State Buildings) in home furnishings and packaging, most of it from Poland, Russia, Belarus, Sweden, and Germany. About 12 percent of it was recycled and nearly all the rest was certified by the Forest Stewardship Council, a nonprofit group that promotes responsible forestry (Ikea is a founding member), meaning its harvesting did not contribute to deforestation.

    Ikea still runs into criticism from time to time. Last year, the company was accused of illegally sourcing wood from Ukraine; a third-party independent investigation found no evidence of such timber in its supply chain, attributing the allegations to ambiguity surrounding the law concerning certain forest management practices. FSC is now working to resolve the issue.

    Wood as a resource is under threat from deforestation, wildfires, pests, and other climate change impacts. The brand’s commitment to sustainable forest management is intended to ensure that its most critical raw material remains in sufficient supply. It also aims to enhance biodiversity, support those whose livelihoods are forest-dependent and protect vital carbon-sequestering trees. A big chunk of the company’s emissions reductions rely on keeping carbon locked up in the plants and soils of healthy forests.

    To that end, Ikea invests heavily in forestland, where the company can reap carefully managed timber. Earlier this month, Ingka Group announced its acquisition of nearly 11,000 forested acres in southeast Georgia from The Conservation Fund, assuming its legally binding obligations to protect the land from fragmentation, restore trees, and protect wildlife. The company now owns 136,000 acres of forest across five states, and some 613,000 acres combined in the U.S. and Europe.

    Material change

    “Seventy percent of our footprint comes from materials,” said Pia Heidenmark Cook, Ingka Group’s chief sustainability officer. “So the products we put on the market, the materials we choose and where we source them from are critical.”

    Ikea is taking a close look at its entire supply chain, said Cook, with the goal of using only recycled or renewable materials (like sustainably sourced wood and cotton) in its over 9,500 products by 2030. Today 10 percent of products contain recycled material, such as plastic and polyester, and 60 percent contain renewable materials.

    The company has so far mapped out how to achieve half its materials footprint reduction goals for 2030 and has to figure out how to get the rest of the way there.

    In the December podcast, Brodin called raw materials the most challenging part of the sustainability equation, noting that materials R&D has been one of the brand’s top investment priorities for nearly a decade.

    “In terms of material innovation, the majority of investment is connected to our sustainability agenda — to find new materials that have a smaller climate or water footprint than what we use today,” said Cook.

    Laminated veneer lumber, or LVL, is one material showing promise. A relatively new engineered product, it comprises multiple thin layers of wood glued together and cuts down on wood consumption by up to 40 percent. Its strength is comparable to metal in some applications, making it a potentially viable substitute for steel and aluminum, which have a high climate footprint due to their energy-intensive production process.

    Another project explores using rice straw — a harvesting residue that’s typically burned and contributes to air pollution in places like northern India — as a new renewable material source.

    Ikea has also partnered with clothing retailer H&M and forest products manufacturer Stora Enso to invest in Tree To Textile, a company that transforms wood cellulose into a sustainable textile fiber that could potentially serve as an alternative to cotton, Ikea’s second-most-used raw material behind wood. Last year, the brand used nearly 142,000 tons of the water-intensive crop — 0.5 percent of cotton production worldwide.

    So far, alternative materials are still in testing phases or limited use. Ikea’s rice-straw product prototypes debuted as the FÖRÄNDRING (“change” in Swedish) collection of rugs, bowls, and baskets at stores in India last year, with limited volumes in a few European markets.

    Should the company determine these new materials are viable, it will take years to update designs, adapt supply chains, and bring production to scale. But the advantage of Ikea’s size and clout means that if the company does identify any breakthrough renewable materials, it could push suppliers to get on board.

    “Ikea is fairly unique in its ability to tell a potential supplier, ‘If you can’t meet our terms, we’ll find someone else who will,’” said Tom Eggert, a senior lecturer on business sustainability at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “Whether it’s a wood alternative or plant-based plastics or something else entirely, they have the buying power to create a market where one may not yet exist.”

    While cheap sofas and tables are the company’s bread and butter, the brand is one of the world’s largest food sellers: 680 million customers visited its food outlets in 2019. It sells a billion of its signature Swedish meatballs a year.

    A worker prepares to serve chicken meatballs in an IKEA store. NOAH SEELAM / AFP via Getty Images

    But meat is an ecological nightmare — livestock production accounts for more than 14 percent of total global greenhouse emissions and is a leading cause of deforestation. So Ikea is retooling its menu. The company has sold over 5 million veggie hot dogs since unveiling them in 2018. Last August, it introduced the HUVUDROLL plant ball, an alternative to its iconic meatball. With ingredients like pea protein and potatoes, it mimics meat’s taste and texture (unlike the brand’s veggie balls, which debuted in 2015), with a climate footprint that’s only 4 percent of the beef-and-pork original.

    The company aims to make 50 percent of its restaurant entrees plant-based by 2025, and 80 percent of them non-red meat (of animals raised for food, cows and pigs are the biggest GHG contributors). The brand’s packaged food will also be 80 percent plant-based within five years.

    Ikea’s other not-so-small side hustle is helping eliminate fossil fuels from its retail operations and production: The company is striving for 100 percent renewable energy across its entire value chain by 2030 — including helping secure 100 percent renewable electricity for its nearly 1,600 suppliers. Ikea has been investing in solutions like solar and wind farms around the world since 2009. Its clean energy portfolio now includes 547 wind turbines and two solar farms in 14 countries, and more than 920,000 solar panels on the roofs of Ikea stores and warehouses.

    Last year, for the first time, Ingka Group generated more renewable energy — by a third — than it consumed globally in retail and distribution operations.

    “Ikea is very much ahead of the curve in retail,” said Winston. “They were one of the biggest renewable energy purchasers before the big tech companies started their buying sprees.”

    Widening the circle

    In order to realize its vision of becoming 100 percent circular by 2030 — eliminating waste by keeping materials and finished products in use — Ikea must not only make products out of recycled and recyclable materials, but also convince its hundreds of millions of customers to recycle or reuse them.

    “A truly circular economy approach is going to have to deal with end of life of products in a totally revolutionary way compared with their current business model,” said ecological economist Tim Jackson, author of the upcoming book “Post Growth: Life After Capitalism.”

    The company is exploring how to entice customers to do their part.

    During its #BuyBackFriday campaign late last year — conceived as an alternative to traditional Black Friday marketing blitzes — Ikea stores in 27 countries offered to buy back and resell thousands of used home furnishings. Customers received vouchers worth between 30 percent and 50 percent of their item’s original price, depending on its condition. (Anything that couldn’t be resold was recycled or donated to COVID-19 community outreach projects.) Down the road, as the company develops its methods, a bought-back chair could be stripped to its frame, polished, painted, and reshaped into a new chair.

    Ikea is turning their “as-is” sections — where last year, 30.5 million discontinued and seasonal items, floor samples and customer returns were sold at discounted prices — into “circular hubs.” Customers can bargain hunt for second hand furnishings while picking up tips on fixing, cleaning or hacking their Ikea products. There are plans to launch hubs in half of Ikea’s stores by the end of the year.

    Ikea’s first entirely secondhand store, a six-month test project, debuted in Eskilstuna, Sweden, last November.

    “The perception of Ikea as a mass producer of stuff that doesn’t last very long has probably been its biggest Achilles’ heel,” Winston said. “This relatively new effort to change the lifecycle of their products by refurbishing, reselling, or entirely recycling them is probably one of the most important things that they’re doing.”

    Jackson put a fine point on it: “#BuyBackFriday was a symbolic gesture. It needs to be an everyday reality.”

    Cook says Ikea’s challenge “is to make sustainable living mainstream.” The company has had some past success. Back in 2015, when the most popular alternatives to inefficient incandescent light bulbs were halogens and compact fluorescent lamps, Ikea switched all its lighting products to light-emitting diodes (LEDs), believing that it could build an economy of scale and make LEDs a commercial success. The bulbs sold for about $7 at the time; they now cost less than $1 each and Ikea sold 56 million of them in 2019.

    “In general, we are always trying to support the education of our customers [on] how to live a more sustainable and a healthier life at home,” Keesson said.

    It’s reasonable to question how any company with a business model based on selling more and more stuff can expand in a truly sustainable way. Some argue that with a burgeoning global middle class on the rise and eager to spend their disposable income, we need companies that will make the effort to stay within the limits of what the planet can provide.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • Jonathan Wilkinson is Canada’s minister of environment and climate change.


    This story was originally published by Canada’s National Observer and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    U.S. President Joe Biden’s first week in office has offered a welcome dose of climate optimism. Not only did Biden win a mandate with climate action as a central pillar of “building back better” from the pandemic, he has also assembled a cabinet and White House team comprised of climate experts to deliver an all-of-government effort.

    Canada welcomes the return of the U.S. to the Paris Agreement, and we look forward to forging new opportunities for bilateral climate cooperation with our largest trading partner and closest neighbor. This will be facilitated by the fact we already have a solid relationship and record of accomplishment working with Biden. In 2015, shortly after Canadians elected us to deliver ambitious climate action, then–Vice President Biden visited Canada to urge our government to continue taking action on issues such as climate change. And we did just that.

    Working with Canadians, we developed and began to implement Canada’s first-ever national climate plan — the Pan-Canadian Framework. The plan was supported by every premier, save one, and is doing more to cut pollution in a practical and affordable way than any other climate plan in our history.

    Headwinds to this momentum soon developed, however, both from a small but vocal group of Conservative politicians and from a newly elected U.S. president who did not share Canadians’ conviction that climate change is an emergency and its solutions, an opportunity. Several provinces backed down from their commitments to put a price on pollution and the Trump administration began to reverse environmental regulations, some of which impacted Canada.

    Amidst calls to slow down our environmental ambitions to maintain economic competitiveness with the U.S., perhaps the painless path would have been to use these challenges as an excuse to do less. In fact, that is what the Conservative Party proposed to do in its 2019 election platform. But working with Canadians, we stepped up and forged ahead with the sense of urgency that a crisis requires.

    We advanced Canada’s world-leading carbon pricing system that puts more money in the pockets of families. We accelerated the phaseout of coal, invested in renewable energy and developed standards for cleaner fuels. We moved on regulations that will cut methane pollution from oil and gas almost in half by 2025, even after the U.S. backed out of its commitment to do likewise. We made electric vehicles more affordable and accessible. And we continued to protect more of the lands and oceans that sustain us.

    Nevertheless, we knew we needed to ramp up our ambition and Canadians elected us to do exactly that in 2019. That is why we built on our progress by developing and presenting a strengthened climate plan in December that means we will not just meet but exceed our 2030 emissions reduction target.

    There is now significant alignment between the climate plans of President Biden and Canada’s. From our electricity grids to our automotive industry — there are many areas of economic integration that can be leveraged in the fight against climate change. Done thoughtfully, in collaboration, we can create more well-paying jobs and attract more investment into our innovative industries that will deliver climate solutions we and the world urgently require.

    We can do this by developing joint efforts in areas like expanding access to affordable and reliable clean energy, reducing methane and eliminating thermal coal, decarbonizing our industries and transportation systems, and building sustainable and resilient economies through investments in green infrastructure. Together, we can ensure North America lands its fair share of the multi-trillion-dollar low-carbon opportunities in the face of fierce global competition and an accelerating climate crisis.

    Canadians want to be at the forefront of this change, and that is where Biden will find us as he looks to implement his environmental and economic agenda. No doubt, he will be looking for strong allies in the fight against climate change, and he will find none more resilient and determined than right here in Canada.

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Canada will be Biden’s ally in tackling the climate crisis on Feb 7, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • Jonathan Wilkinson is Canada’s minister of environment and climate change.


    This story was originally published by Canada’s National Observer and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    U.S. President Joe Biden’s first week in office has offered a welcome dose of climate optimism. Not only did Biden win a mandate with climate action as a central pillar of “building back better” from the pandemic, he has also assembled a cabinet and White House team comprised of climate experts to deliver an all-of-government effort.

    Canada welcomes the return of the U.S. to the Paris Agreement, and we look forward to forging new opportunities for bilateral climate cooperation with our largest trading partner and closest neighbor. This will be facilitated by the fact we already have a solid relationship and record of accomplishment working with Biden. In 2015, shortly after Canadians elected us to deliver ambitious climate action, then–Vice President Biden visited Canada to urge our government to continue taking action on issues such as climate change. And we did just that.

    Working with Canadians, we developed and began to implement Canada’s first-ever national climate plan — the Pan-Canadian Framework. The plan was supported by every premier, save one, and is doing more to cut pollution in a practical and affordable way than any other climate plan in our history.

    Headwinds to this momentum soon developed, however, both from a small but vocal group of Conservative politicians and from a newly elected U.S. president who did not share Canadians’ conviction that climate change is an emergency and its solutions, an opportunity. Several provinces backed down from their commitments to put a price on pollution and the Trump administration began to reverse environmental regulations, some of which impacted Canada.

    Amidst calls to slow down our environmental ambitions to maintain economic competitiveness with the U.S., perhaps the painless path would have been to use these challenges as an excuse to do less. In fact, that is what the Conservative Party proposed to do in its 2019 election platform. But working with Canadians, we stepped up and forged ahead with the sense of urgency that a crisis requires.

    We advanced Canada’s world-leading carbon pricing system that puts more money in the pockets of families. We accelerated the phaseout of coal, invested in renewable energy and developed standards for cleaner fuels. We moved on regulations that will cut methane pollution from oil and gas almost in half by 2025, even after the U.S. backed out of its commitment to do likewise. We made electric vehicles more affordable and accessible. And we continued to protect more of the lands and oceans that sustain us.

    Nevertheless, we knew we needed to ramp up our ambition and Canadians elected us to do exactly that in 2019. That is why we built on our progress by developing and presenting a strengthened climate plan in December that means we will not just meet but exceed our 2030 emissions reduction target.

    There is now significant alignment between the climate plans of President Biden and Canada’s. From our electricity grids to our automotive industry — there are many areas of economic integration that can be leveraged in the fight against climate change. Done thoughtfully, in collaboration, we can create more well-paying jobs and attract more investment into our innovative industries that will deliver climate solutions we and the world urgently require.

    We can do this by developing joint efforts in areas like expanding access to affordable and reliable clean energy, reducing methane and eliminating thermal coal, decarbonizing our industries and transportation systems, and building sustainable and resilient economies through investments in green infrastructure. Together, we can ensure North America lands its fair share of the multi-trillion-dollar low-carbon opportunities in the face of fierce global competition and an accelerating climate crisis.

    Canadians want to be at the forefront of this change, and that is where Biden will find us as he looks to implement his environmental and economic agenda. No doubt, he will be looking for strong allies in the fight against climate change, and he will find none more resilient and determined than right here in Canada.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Border communities and environmentalists are urging Joe Biden to take immediate steps to remediate the environmental and cultural destruction caused by construction of the border wall during the previous administration.

    Donald Trump sequestered $15 billion — most of it from military funds — to partially fulfill an anti-immigration campaign promise to build a “big beautiful wall” along the southern border with Mexico.

    As a result, hundreds of miles of the borderlands — including sacred Native American sites and protected public lands — have been bulldozed, blasted, and parched over the past four years, with little environmental assessment or oversight thanks to waivers suspending dozens of federal laws in order to expedite construction.

    Biden ordered construction to pause on his first day in office, but community leaders and experts consulted by the Guardian warned that urgent action is needed to stop the damage to fragile biodiverse landscapes and scarce water sources getting worse. They are urging Biden to:

    • Cancel the outstanding contracts, most of which the Army Corps of Engineers awarded to a handful of firms with little transparency. Top officials at these firms are regular donors to the Republican Party. The Government Accountability Office will soon publish its audit of the army corps’ role in the wall including the contracts and status of construction.
    • Deploy a team of experts including hydrologists, ecologists, zoologists, botanists, and community and tribal advocates to assess the damage, and formulate a plan to restore critical habitat, waterways, wildlife migration corridors, and tribal cultural sites.
    • Tearing down the wall where safe to do so, and allocate federal funds for the clean-up to ensure hundreds of tons of metal, concrete and barbed wire are safely disposed of.
    • Rescind the waivers which suspended 84 federal laws that mandate protections relating to clean air and water, endangered species, public lands, contracts, and the rights of Native Americans.
    • Withdraw scores of lawsuits against private landowners on the border that seek to strip them of their land through eminent domain.

    “We need coordinated rapid assessments to figure out what can be restored, and identify the most critical areas in order to contain the spread of the damage to waterways, soils, wildlife, and native species caused by the largest experiment in American history. It’s a ticking clock,” said Gary Nabhan, a Franciscan brother and ecologist with the Healing the Border project.

    “It’s a disaster, a mess, the suspended laws must be put back on the books to give border communities equal protection, and every section looked at carefully so that it can be torn down in a coordinated and responsible way, and the damage addressed immediately,” said Dan Mills, the Sierra Club’s borderlands program manager.

    Work is done on a new border wall being constructed in early 2021. Sandy Huffaker / Getty Images

    About 455 miles of the 30-foot metal wall (out of the promised 738 miles) was completed by the time Biden took office, mostly paid for by tax dollars earmarked for defense and counter-drug programs which Trump diverted by declaring a national emergency in early 2019.

    An estimated $11.5 billion of contracts were signed and construction forged ahead despite multiple ongoing lawsuits challenging the constitutional basis of Trump’s executive orders. The supreme court will next month consider a case brought by the Sierra Club, ACLU, and the Southern Border Communities Commission which claims diverting billions of dollars from the Department of Defense against the will of Congress was illegal.

    The impact has been disastrous.

    The barrier has restricted access to floodplains that dozens of small, impoverished desert communities dotted along the Rio Grande, southeast of El Paso, relied upon for drinking, sanitation, and livestock. Local people are struggling to find enough water as extreme heat events rise in frequency and intensity as a result of global heating.

    In addition, tens of millions of gallons of groundwater was pumped out to mix concrete, draining springs, rivers, and wetlands in fragile ecological areas already blighted by prolonged drought linked to the climate crisis.

    At Quitobaquito Springs in Organ Pipe Cactus national park in Pima County, Arizona, 40 species of migratory birds, including the glossy ibis, sandpipers, and shorebirds that were registered every year between 2016 and 2019, did not return last year.

    Rescuing groundwater sources — a rare and precious commodity in the desert — must be the priority as global heating means droughts and extreme temperatures are expected to continue, according to the experts consulted by the Guardian.

    In Mission, Texas, a historic church and cemeteries — the final resting place for Native Americans, war veterans, freed slaves, and Christian abolitionists who shaped the cultural, spiritual, and racial history of the Rio Grande Valley — have been marooned in between the 30-foot barrier and the international border.

    “It was a complete waste of money and poorly thought out, and is a constant unsightly reminder of Trump’s ugly approach to Latin America. The wall should never have gone up, we tried to fight it, and now it will be very difficult to undo,” said Sylvia Ramirez, 73, a retired professor, whose ancestors are buried in the cemeteries.

    Work is done on a new border wall being constructed on January 22, 2021, in Jacumba, California. Sandy Huffaker / Getty Images

    “We have an obligation to borderland communities, tribal nations, and wildlife to assess the harm and remedy and restore what we can. The federal government at the very least owes us that,“ said Laiken Jordahl, a borderlands campaigner with the Center for Biological Diversity.

    Customs and Border Protection (CBP) did not respond to questions about how it planned to assess and remediate the damage caused to habitat, endangered wildlife, and border communities.

    Biden’s executive proclamation on inauguration day ordered construction of the wall to pause as soon as possible, and no later than seven days. The legality of the funding and contracts is being reviewed.

    CBP and the army corps told the Guardian that construction had been suspended in compliance with the president’s order. “[The army corps] has suspended work on all border infrastructure projects for DoD and DHS until further notice. Under this suspension, contractors are still required by the terms of their contracts to maintain a safe and secure job site, but all work in furtherance of construction has been suspended.”

    Yet last weekend, advocates and photographers found crews working as usual at multiple sites in Arizona, including inside national parks and monuments.

    “It’s a lie, I saw huge bulldozers digging up dirt on mountainsides, the crews were carving out new sections in some places and moving steel bollards closer to installation sites in others,” said John Kurc, a filmmaker and photographer who has been documenting the building of the wall from California to Texas.

    Native Americans are accustomed to broken promises by the federal government.

    The Tohono O’odham have resided in what is now southern and central Arizona and northern Mexico since time immemorial. The 1853 Gadsden Purchase divided the Tohono O’odham’s traditional lands and separated their communities. Today, their reservation includes 62 miles of international border, with 2,000 of its 34,000 members in Mexico.

    While the wall does not traverse the reservation, construction destroyed ancient spiritual trails and multiple sacred burial sites, as well as vegetation such as centuries-old cacti, which are revered by tribal members.

    Just as at Organ Pipe, at least 50 water courses have been blocked by the wall and about 10,000 sacred mature cacti were culled; only a fraction were successfully transplanted as promised.

    Last year, peaceful protesters were teargassed and fired on with rubber bullets and detained while trying to halt the destruction of sacred sites.

    “As caretakers of this land, the plants, and our four-legged brothers and sisters, the damage caused by the stroke of a pen in the name of border security feels like a razor-sharp knife across our hearts, it’s irreparable and hurts more than you could ever imagine,” said Verlon Jose, governor of the traditional leaders of the O’odham in Mexico and former vice-chair of the Tohono O’odham Nation.

    “We have a glimmer of hope with the Biden administration but this needs to be followed by action, cancel the contracts and consult with environmentalists and tribal folks, as the law requires the federal government to do, so that we can start to heal the border.”

    This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Biden faces call to heal environmental and cultural scars of Trump’s border wall on Jan 31, 2021.

    This post was originally published on Grist.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Border communities and environmentalists are urging Joe Biden to take immediate steps to remediate the environmental and cultural destruction caused by construction of the border wall during the previous administration.

    Donald Trump sequestered $15 billion — most of it from military funds — to partially fulfill an anti-immigration campaign promise to build a “big beautiful wall” along the southern border with Mexico.

    As a result, hundreds of miles of the borderlands — including sacred Native American sites and protected public lands — have been bulldozed, blasted, and parched over the past four years, with little environmental assessment or oversight thanks to waivers suspending dozens of federal laws in order to expedite construction.

    Biden ordered construction to pause on his first day in office, but community leaders and experts consulted by the Guardian warned that urgent action is needed to stop the damage to fragile biodiverse landscapes and scarce water sources getting worse. They are urging Biden to:

    • Cancel the outstanding contracts, most of which the Army Corps of Engineers awarded to a handful of firms with little transparency. Top officials at these firms are regular donors to the Republican Party. The Government Accountability Office will soon publish its audit of the army corps’ role in the wall including the contracts and status of construction.
    • Deploy a team of experts including hydrologists, ecologists, zoologists, botanists, and community and tribal advocates to assess the damage, and formulate a plan to restore critical habitat, waterways, wildlife migration corridors, and tribal cultural sites.
    • Tearing down the wall where safe to do so, and allocate federal funds for the clean-up to ensure hundreds of tons of metal, concrete and barbed wire are safely disposed of.
    • Rescind the waivers which suspended 84 federal laws that mandate protections relating to clean air and water, endangered species, public lands, contracts, and the rights of Native Americans.
    • Withdraw scores of lawsuits against private landowners on the border that seek to strip them of their land through eminent domain.

    “We need coordinated rapid assessments to figure out what can be restored, and identify the most critical areas in order to contain the spread of the damage to waterways, soils, wildlife, and native species caused by the largest experiment in American history. It’s a ticking clock,” said Gary Nabhan, a Franciscan brother and ecologist with the Healing the Border project.

    “It’s a disaster, a mess, the suspended laws must be put back on the books to give border communities equal protection, and every section looked at carefully so that it can be torn down in a coordinated and responsible way, and the damage addressed immediately,” said Dan Mills, the Sierra Club’s borderlands program manager.

    Work is done on a new border wall being constructed in early 2021. Sandy Huffaker / Getty Images

    About 455 miles of the 30-foot metal wall (out of the promised 738 miles) was completed by the time Biden took office, mostly paid for by tax dollars earmarked for defense and counter-drug programs which Trump diverted by declaring a national emergency in early 2019.

    An estimated $11.5 billion of contracts were signed and construction forged ahead despite multiple ongoing lawsuits challenging the constitutional basis of Trump’s executive orders. The supreme court will next month consider a case brought by the Sierra Club, ACLU, and the Southern Border Communities Commission which claims diverting billions of dollars from the Department of Defense against the will of Congress was illegal.

    The impact has been disastrous.

    The barrier has restricted access to floodplains that dozens of small, impoverished desert communities dotted along the Rio Grande, southeast of El Paso, relied upon for drinking, sanitation, and livestock. Local people are struggling to find enough water as extreme heat events rise in frequency and intensity as a result of global heating.

    In addition, tens of millions of gallons of groundwater was pumped out to mix concrete, draining springs, rivers, and wetlands in fragile ecological areas already blighted by prolonged drought linked to the climate crisis.

    At Quitobaquito Springs in Organ Pipe Cactus national park in Pima County, Arizona, 40 species of migratory birds, including the glossy ibis, sandpipers, and shorebirds that were registered every year between 2016 and 2019, did not return last year.

    Rescuing groundwater sources — a rare and precious commodity in the desert — must be the priority as global heating means droughts and extreme temperatures are expected to continue, according to the experts consulted by the Guardian.

    In Mission, Texas, a historic church and cemeteries — the final resting place for Native Americans, war veterans, freed slaves, and Christian abolitionists who shaped the cultural, spiritual, and racial history of the Rio Grande Valley — have been marooned in between the 30-foot barrier and the international border.

    “It was a complete waste of money and poorly thought out, and is a constant unsightly reminder of Trump’s ugly approach to Latin America. The wall should never have gone up, we tried to fight it, and now it will be very difficult to undo,” said Sylvia Ramirez, 73, a retired professor, whose ancestors are buried in the cemeteries.

    Work is done on a new border wall being constructed on January 22, 2021, in Jacumba, California. Sandy Huffaker / Getty Images

    “We have an obligation to borderland communities, tribal nations, and wildlife to assess the harm and remedy and restore what we can. The federal government at the very least owes us that,“ said Laiken Jordahl, a borderlands campaigner with the Center for Biological Diversity.

    Customs and Border Protection (CBP) did not respond to questions about how it planned to assess and remediate the damage caused to habitat, endangered wildlife, and border communities.

    Biden’s executive proclamation on inauguration day ordered construction of the wall to pause as soon as possible, and no later than seven days. The legality of the funding and contracts is being reviewed.

    CBP and the army corps told the Guardian that construction had been suspended in compliance with the president’s order. “[The army corps] has suspended work on all border infrastructure projects for DoD and DHS until further notice. Under this suspension, contractors are still required by the terms of their contracts to maintain a safe and secure job site, but all work in furtherance of construction has been suspended.”

    Yet last weekend, advocates and photographers found crews working as usual at multiple sites in Arizona, including inside national parks and monuments.

    “It’s a lie, I saw huge bulldozers digging up dirt on mountainsides, the crews were carving out new sections in some places and moving steel bollards closer to installation sites in others,” said John Kurc, a filmmaker and photographer who has been documenting the building of the wall from California to Texas.

    Native Americans are accustomed to broken promises by the federal government.

    The Tohono O’odham have resided in what is now southern and central Arizona and northern Mexico since time immemorial. The 1853 Gadsden Purchase divided the Tohono O’odham’s traditional lands and separated their communities. Today, their reservation includes 62 miles of international border, with 2,000 of its 34,000 members in Mexico.

    While the wall does not traverse the reservation, construction destroyed ancient spiritual trails and multiple sacred burial sites, as well as vegetation such as centuries-old cacti, which are revered by tribal members.

    Just as at Organ Pipe, at least 50 water courses have been blocked by the wall and about 10,000 sacred mature cacti were culled; only a fraction were successfully transplanted as promised.

    Last year, peaceful protesters were teargassed and fired on with rubber bullets and detained while trying to halt the destruction of sacred sites.

    “As caretakers of this land, the plants, and our four-legged brothers and sisters, the damage caused by the stroke of a pen in the name of border security feels like a razor-sharp knife across our hearts, it’s irreparable and hurts more than you could ever imagine,” said Verlon Jose, governor of the traditional leaders of the O’odham in Mexico and former vice-chair of the Tohono O’odham Nation.

    “We have a glimmer of hope with the Biden administration but this needs to be followed by action, cancel the contracts and consult with environmentalists and tribal folks, as the law requires the federal government to do, so that we can start to heal the border.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Batteries capable of fully charging in five minutes have been produced in a factory for the first time, marking a significant step towards electric cars becoming as fast to charge as filling up petrol or diesel vehicles.

    Electric vehicles are a vital part of action to tackle the climate crisis but running out of charge during a journey is a worry for drivers. The new lithium-ion batteries were developed by the Israeli company StoreDot and manufactured by Eve Energy in China on standard production lines.

    StoreDot has already demonstrated its “extreme fast-charging” battery in phones, drones, and scooters and the 1,000 batteries it has now produced are to showcase its technology to carmakers and other companies. Daimler, BP, Samsung, and TDK have all invested in StoreDot, which has raised $130m to date and was named a Bloomberg New Energy Finance Pioneer in 2020.

    The batteries can be fully charged in five minutes but this would require much higher-powered chargers than used today. Using available charging infrastructure, StoreDot is aiming to deliver 100 miles of charge to a car battery in five minutes in 2025.

    “The No. 1 barrier to the adoption of electric vehicles is no longer cost, it is range anxiety,” said Doron Myersdorf, CEO of StoreDot. “You’re either afraid that you’re going to get stuck on the highway or you’re going to need to sit in a charging station for two hours. But if the experience of the driver is exactly like fuelling [a petrol car], this whole anxiety goes away.”

    “A five-minute charging lithium-ion battery was considered to be impossible,” he said. “But we are not releasing a lab prototype, we are releasing engineering samples from a mass production line. This demonstrates it is feasible and it’s commercially ready.”

    Existing Li-ion batteries use graphite as one electrode, into which the lithium ions are pushed to store charge. But when these are rapidly charged, the ions get congested and can turn into metal and short circuit the battery.

    The StoreDot battery replaces graphite with semiconductor nanoparticles into which ions can pass more quickly and easily. These nanoparticles are currently based on germanium, which is water soluble and easier to handle in manufacturing. But StoreDot’s plan is to use silicon, which is much cheaper, and it expects these prototypes later this year. Myersdorf said the cost would be the same as existing Li-ion batteries.

    “The bottleneck to extra-fast charging is no longer the battery,” he said. Now the charging stations and grids that supply them need to be upgraded, he said, which is why they are working with BP. “BP has 18,200 forecourts and they understand that, 10 years from now, all these stations will be obsolete, if they don’t repurpose them for charging — batteries are the new oil.”

    Dozens of companies around the world are developing fast-charging batteries, with Tesla, Enevate, and Sila Nanotechnologies all working on silicon electrodes. Others are looking at different compounds, such as Echion which uses niobium oxide nanoparticles.

    Tesla boss Elon Musk tweeted on Monday: “Battery cell production is the fundamental rate-limiter slowing down a sustainable energy future. Very important problem.”

    “I think such fast-charging batteries will be available to the mass market in three years,” said Professor Chao-Yang Wang, at the Battery and Energy Storage Technology Center at Pennsylvania State University in the U.S. “They will not be more expensive; in fact, they allow automakers to downsize the onboard battery while still eliminating range anxiety, thereby dramatically cutting down the vehicle battery cost.”

    Research by Wang’s group is being developed by the company EC Power, which he founded. It carefully increases the temperature of the battery to 60 degrees C (140 degrees F), which enables the lithium ions to move faster, but avoids the damage to the battery usually caused by heat. He said this allowed a full charge in 10 minutes.

    Wang said new research published in Nature Energy on Monday showed this battery could be both affordable and eliminate range anxiety. “Finally we are achieving parity with gasoline vehicles in both cost and convenience. We have the technology for $25,000 electric cars that race like luxury sport cars, have 10-minute rechargeability and are safer than any currently on the market.”

    Wang noted that fast charging must also be repeatable at least 500 times without degrading the battery to give it a reasonable life and that the EC power battery can do so 2,500 times. Myersdorf said the StoreDot battery could be recharged 1,000 cycles while retaining 80 percent of original capacity.

    Anna Tomaszewska, at Imperial College London, U.K., who reviewed the fast-charging batteries in 2019, was more cautious about the speed of their rollout. “I think technologies [like StoreDot’s] could start entering the market in the next five years or so. However, since they will be more difficult and expensive to manufacture, we’re likely to initially only see them in niche markets that are highly performance-driven and not as price-sensitive as electric vehicles,” she said.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Indigenous leaders and environmentalists are urging Joe Biden to shut down some of America’s most controversial fossil fuel pipelines, after welcoming his executive order canceling the Keystone XL (KXL) project.

    Activists praised the president’s decision to stop construction of the transnational KXL oil pipeline on his first day in the White House, but they stressed that he must cancel similar polluting fossil fuel projects, including the Dakota Access pipeline (DAPL), to stand any chance of meeting his bold climate action goals.

    The KXL order was issued on Wednesday as part of the first wave of Biden’s promised environmental justice and climate action policies, which include rejoining the Paris Agreement and halting construction of the southern border wall.

    Rescinding the Canadian-owned KXL pipeline permit, issued by Donald Trump, fulfills a campaign promise Biden made in May 2020 and comes after more than a decade of organizing and resistance by Indigenous activists, landowners, and environmental groups.

    “The victory ending the KXL pipeline is an act of courage and restorative justice by the Biden administration. It gives tribes and Mother Earth a serious message of hope for future generations as we face the threat of climate change. It aligns Indigenous environmental knowledge with presidential priorities that benefit everyone,” said Faith Spotted Eagle, founder of Brave Heart Society and a member of the Ihanktonwan Dakota nation.

    “This is a vindication of 10 years defending our waters and treaty rights from this tar sands carbon bomb. I applaud President Biden for recognizing how dangerous KXL is for our communities and climate and I look forward to similar executive action to stop DAPL and Line 3 based on those very same dangers,” said Dallas Goldtooth, a member of the Mdewakanton Dakota and Dine nations and the Keep It In The Ground campaign organizer for the Indigenous Environmental Network.

    Donald Trump sanctioned the KXL and DAPL pipelines soon after taking office — which paved the way for scores of executive actions and rollbacks favoring fossil fuel allies while violating Indigenous rights and environmental standards.

    The KXL pipeline was set to go through the heart of the Oceti Sakowin territory. It was the final section of a vast pipeline network transporting tar sands oil from Alberta, Canada, to ports on the U.S. Gulf Coast. Most of the network was built during the Obama administration and is already operational.

    The 2020 elections saw a historic turnout of Native Americans, who helped deliver victory for Biden in key states including Arizona and Wisconsin.

    The new president has so far been praised for assembling a top team of climate and environmental justice experts to lead his government’s efforts and undo some of the damage inflicted over the past four years — and during previous administrations.

    But pressure is already mounting on Biden to take action on similar pipelines that campaigners say were sanctioned without conducting legally required consultations with Native communities, and which threaten to pollute land and water and contribute to greenhouse gas emissions that cause global heating.

    Last week, 75 Indigenous female leaders from across the country sent a letter to the incoming administration calling on it to immediately halt fossil fuel projects which threaten their land, water, health, culture, and security. They wrote: “No more broken promises, no more broken Treaties … We urge you to fulfill the United States promise of sovereign relations with Tribes, and your commitment to robust climate action.”

    On Tuesday, tribal leaders wrote to Biden urging him to shut down the DAPL. The Standing Rock Sioux tribe and the legal non-profit Earthjustice released a video message to Biden voiced in the Lakota language called Tȟokáta Hé Miyé /My Name Is Future.

    Biden has not spoken publicly about DAPL, but last May, Kamala Harris signed an amicus brief and joined tribes in calling on a judge to shut it down while an environmental impact study is conducted.

    Shutting down DAPL, which crosses through communities, farms, tribal land, sensitive natural areas, and wildlife habitat across North Dakota to Illinois, would be more complicated than canceling KXL as it is already being built and is transporting about 500,000 barrels of crude oil each day.

    “It is a more complex legal scenario, but they could do it tomorrow as it’s operating without a permit and has been declared illegal by federal courts,” said Jan Hasselman, a lawyer at Earthjustice, which represents the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe in ongoing legal action. “It’s crazy to continue investing in new fossil fuel infrastructure when we need to be abandoning it.”

    The proposed expansion of another huge Canadian-owned tar sands oil pipeline crossing Indigenous lands, Line 3, is also under the microscope. In Minnesota, police have arrested scores of peaceful protesters trying to stop construction.

    At the heart of Biden’s climate plan is ensuring the U.S. achieves a 100 percent clean energy economy and reaches net-zero emissions no later than 2050 — which experts say is not possible if investment in oil and gas continues.

    “[Today’s] great win comes after a decade of organizing — and since the scientific and human rights principles are exactly the same for DAPL and Line 3, we assume we’ll hear similar good news on them soon,” said Bill McKibben, co-founder of the environmental group 350.org.

    Nick Estes, a member of the Lower Brule Sioux nation and assistant professor of American Studies at the University of New Mexico, said: “Biden has the right people in his team, but we don’t know yet if he’s going to break from Obama’s policy of domestic energy production. If he’s genuine about climate action, it makes no sense not to cancel the Dakota Access and Line 3 pipelines, even if it’s harder to do. We need to see bold maneuvers.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by Yale Environment 360 and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The twin smokestacks of the Moss Landing Power Plant tower over Monterey Bay. Visible for miles along this picturesque stretch of the Northern California coast, the 500-foot-tall pillars crown what was once California’s largest electric power station — a behemoth natural gas-fired generator. Today, as California steadily moves to decarbonize its economy, those stacks are idle and the plant is largely mothballed. Instead, the site is about to begin a new life as the world’s largest battery, storing excess energy when solar panels and wind farms are producing electricity and feeding it back into the grid when they’re not.

    Inside a cavernous turbine building, a 300-megawatt lithium-ion battery is currently being readied for operation, with another 100-megawatt battery to come online in 2021. Together, they will be able to discharge enough electricity to power roughly 300,000 California homes for four hours during evenings, heatwaves, and other times when energy demand outstrips supply, according to project developer Vistra Energy.

    These aren’t the only super-sized batteries that will soon be operating at the Moss Landing plant. An additional 182.5 megawatts produced by 256 Tesla megapack batteries are scheduled to begin feeding into California’s electric grid in mid-2021, with plans to eventually add enough capacity at the site to power every home in nearby San Francisco for six hours, according to the Bay Area utility, Pacific Gas & Electric, which will own and operate the system. Elsewhere in California, a 250-megawatt storage project went online this year in San Diego, construction has begun on a 150-megawatt system near San Francisco, a 100-megawatt battery project is nearing completion in Long Beach, and a number of others are in various stages of development around the state.

    Driven by steeply falling prices and technological progress that allows batteries to store ever-larger amounts of energy, grid-scale systems are seeing record growth in the U.S. and around the world. Many of the gains are spillovers from the auto industry’s race to build smaller, cheaper, and more powerful lithium-ion batteries for electric cars. In the U.S., state clean energy mandates, along with tax incentives for storage systems that are paired with solar installations, are also playing an important role.

    California is currently the global leader in the effort to balance the intermittency of renewable energy in electric grids with high-capacity batteries. But the rest of the world is rapidly following suit. Recently announced plans range from a 409-megawatt system in South Florida, to a 320-megawatt plant near London, England, to a 200-megawatt facility in Lithuania and a 112-megawatt unit in Chile.

    The mass deployment of storage could overcome one of the biggest obstacles to renewable energy — its cycling between oversupply when the sun shines or the wind blows, and shortage when the sun sets or the wind drops. By smoothing imbalances between supply and demand, proponents say, batteries can replace fossil fuel “peaker” plants that kick in for a few hours a day when energy demands soar. Experts say that widespread energy storage is key to expanding the reach of renewables and speeding the transition to a carbon-free power grid.

    “Energy storage is actually the true bridge to a clean-energy future,” says Bernadette Del Chiaro, executive director of the California Solar and Storage Association.

    How quickly that future arrives depends in large part on how rapidly costs continue to fall. Already the price tag for utility-scale battery storage in the United States has plummeted, dropping nearly 70 percent between 2015 and 2018, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. This sharp price drop has been enabled by advances in lithium-ion battery chemistry that have significantly improved performance. Power capacity has expanded rapidly, and batteries can store and discharge energy over ever-longer periods of time. Market competition and rising battery production also play a major role; a projection by the U.S. National Renewable Energy Laboratory sees mid-range costs for lithium-ion batteries falling an additional 45 percent between 2018 and 2030.

    “We’re almost entirely piggybacking on the growth of lithium-ion battery technology, which is driven mostly by electric vehicles and consumer electronics,” says Ray Hohenstein, market applications director for Fluence, an energy storage technology provider with storage projects totaling nearly 1 gigawatt (1,000 megawatts) set to come online in California within a year. The money put into research for those applications is driving down costs across the board, says Hohenstein. “It’s just like what we saw with solar panels.”

    In California, falling battery prices, coupled with the state’s aggressive push toward a carbon-free electrical grid by 2045, have led to a packed pipeline of storage projects. A 2013 bill set a target of 1.325 gigawatts of storage to be commissioned for the state’s grid by 2020. With 1.5 gigawatts of projects now approved — including more than 500 megawatts installed so far — that goal has already been surpassed, according to the California Public Utilities Commission. While there is no precise figure for how much storage California will require to meet its carbon-free goal — the amount depends on the future technology mix, energy use, and other changing factors — some analyses estimate that at least 30 gigawatts of utility-scale storage will be needed by 2045.

    When the gigantic Moss Landing project becomes fully operational in mid-2021, it will more than double the amount of energy storage in California. Several other states are also now embarking on major energy storage projects. Among them: New York’s 316-megawatt Ravenswood project will be able to power more than 250,000 homes for up to eight hours, replacing two natural gas peaker plants in the New York City borough of Queens. And the 409-megawatt Manatee system planned for South Florida will be charged by an adjacent solar plant. Touted by utility Florida Power & Light as the world’s largest solar-powered battery system, the facility will replace two aging natural gas-fired units.

    Nationwide, a record 1.2 gigawatts of storage have been installed so far this year, according to Wood MacKenzie, a natural resources research and consulting firm. That number is projected to jump dramatically over the next five years, rising to nearly 7.5 gigawatts in 2025. Kelly Speakes-Backman, CEO of the U.S. Energy Storage Association, says that battery storage additions doubled in 2020, and would likely have tripled had it not been for construction slowdowns caused by the Covid-19 pandemic.

    Despite its leadership in renewable energy development, Europe has been slower to get on board with storage. “In general, Europe is a bit more conservative,” says Daniele Gatti, analyst for IDTechEx, a United Kingdom-based market research firm specializing in emerging technology. Energy storage development in Europe has been hindered by a restrictive electricity market dominated by government auctions that tend to undervalue storage. Still, some big-battery projects are now taking shape, including the 320-megawatt Gateway system to be built at a new port facility near London.

    Giant wind turbines in Palm Springs, California. Photo by Kevork Djansezian / Getty Images

    Globally, Gatti projects rapid growth in energy storage, reaching 1.2 terawatts (1,200 gigawatts) over the next decade. Key players include Australia, which in 2017 became the first nation to install major battery storage on its grid with the 100-megawatt Hornsdale Power Reserve, and is now planning to add another 300 megawatts near Victoria. The new system will dispatch electricity between states on an as-needed basis, maximizing the efficiency of existing transmission infrastructure and reducing the need for building new power lines that would sit idle most of the time. Similar projects are gearing up in Germany and elsewhere, highlighting an emerging role for batteries as transmission tools.

    And Saudi Arabia has just announced plans to overtake Moss Landing’s standing as the world’s largest battery with a massive solar-plus-storage system on the country’s west coast. The facility will provide 100-percent renewable energy around the clock to a resort complex of 50 hotels and 1,300 homes being built along the Red Sea.

    With a recent report concluding that most fossil fuel power plants in the U.S. will reach the end of their working life by 2035, experts say that the time for rapid growth in industrial-scale energy storage is at hand. Yiyi Zhou, a renewable power systems specialist with Bloomberg NEF, says that renewables combined with battery storage are already an economically viable alternative to building new gas peaker plants. Pairing electricity generation with storage works especially well with solar energy, which generally follows a predictable daily pattern. In the U.S., costs have also been helped by the federal Investment Tax Credit, a 30-percent tax rebate for new solar installations. In fact, says Zhou, as more solar energy enters the grid, the cost of operating gas plants actually goes up.

    “That’s mainly because they are forced to cycle on and off much more now because of solar penetration,” Zhou says. “This adds wear-and-tear, and shortens their lifetime.”

    Batteries are even beginning to reach a size — around 200 megawatts — that enables renewables to replace small- to medium-sized natural gas generators, Hohenstein says. “Now we’re able to truly build these hybrid resources — solar, storage, wind — and do the job that was traditionally done by fossil fuel power plants,” says Hohenstein, whose company is seeing a surge of interest in such large projects.

    Adding storage also makes renewable energy more profitable, says Wesley Cole, an energy analyst with the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. “One of the challenges of renewable energy is the more you put on the grid, the more the value declines,” Cole says. Storage helps deal with that by soaking up excess energy that would have been lost in the middle of the day, when electricity demand is lower, and moving it to a time when it is more valuable.

    While energy storage is thriving in high-value markets, such as California, battery prices still need to come down more to reach large-scale global deployment. In the U.S., proponents hope the incoming Biden administration will pursue more favorable energy policies, including extending the Investment Tax Credit — which ramps down to 10 percent for commercial solar systems and ends for residential solar in 2022 — and expanding the benefit to stand-alone storage.

    Even without further incentives, however, analysts are optimistic that battery prices will eventually drop low enough for widespread energy storage use.

    “We see storage being a large player across effectively every future we look at,” says Cole. “And not just one or two gigawatts … but tens to hundreds of gigawatts.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Debra Haaland is making American history.

    The 60-year-old Congress member from New Mexico will next month become the first Native American cabinet secretary in U.S. history, when she takes responsibility for the country’s land and natural resources as head of the Department of the Interior under Joe Biden.

    Haaland is a member of the Laguna Pueblo, one of 574 sovereign tribal nations located across 35 states. According to the 2010 census, 5.2 million people or about 2 percent of the U.S. population identifies as American Indian or Alaskan Native — descendants of those who survived U.S. government policies to kill, remove, or assimilate Indigenous peoples.

    Come January it will also be Haaland’s job to uphold the government’s legally binding obligations to the tribes — treaty obligations which have been systematically violated with devastating consequences for life expectancy, political participation, and economic opportunities in Indian Country.

    In an interview days before her nomination, Haaland told the Guardian that as Secretary of the Interior she would “move climate change priorities, tribal consultation, and a green economic recovery forward.”

    It’s a big job with high expectations after four years of racist rhetoric and destructive environmental rollbacks by the Trump administration, which showed contempt for the climate or environment by green-lighting planet-heating fossil fuel projects on public and tribal lands with little regard for culturally and ecologically important sites.

    “I’ll be fierce for all of us, for our planet, and all of our protected land,” said Haaland in her acceptance speech. “This moment is profound when we consider the fact that a former Secretary of the Interior once proclaimed it his goal to, quote, ‘civilize or exterminate’ us. I’m a living testament to the failure of that horrific ideology.”

    Indigenous communities in the U.S., and globally, are disproportionately vulnerable to the impact of the climate crisis such as rising sea levels and droughts, and environmental hazards resulting from polluting industries. As Secretary of the Interior, Haaland will play a key role in undoing Trump’s rollbacks and will also be a key lieutenant in Biden’s new climate team.

    This is not the first time Haaland has made history. In 2018, she became one of the first two Native women in Congress, alongside Sharice Davids of Kansas. In January, a record-breaking six Native Americans — four Democrats and two Republicans — will be sworn in.

    Haaland made history as one of the first two Native American women elected to Congress, in 2018. Tom Williams / CQ Roll Call / Getty Images

    Representation and diversity matter, according to Haaland, because life experiences shape political decisions. “We don’t need people who all have the same perspective, we need people from various parts of the country, who’ve been raised in different ways, who bring that history and culture with them, and employ what we’ve learnt from their parents and grandparents, and bring all of that to bear in the decisions that we make,” she told the Guardian.

    It’s been a rocky road for Haaland who like a disproportionate number of Native Americans has experienced homelessness and relied on food stamps. She is also the product of racist policies such as the forced removal of thousands of Native children from their families between 1860 and 1978. At the age of eight, Haaland’s grandmother was sent to a Catholic boarding school for five years a hundred miles from home.

    “There are a lot of people in this country who suffered historical trauma from that era. I carry that history with me, I’m a product of the assimilation policy of the United States. I feel very strongly that having this perspective is super important for the issues we bring to Congress.”

    Haaland was elected to the House of Representatives in 2018 after campaigning under the slogan: “Congress has never heard a voice like mine.” Since then, she has introduced legislation that would establish a truth commission on Native American boarding schools and spearheaded two laws to combat the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women — crimes increasingly linked to transient extractive industry workers living in so-called man camps near or on tribal lands.

    “Indigenous women have been missing and murdered since Europeans came to this continent in the late 1400s. Violence against women is a priority of mine. It’s not going to be fixed with just two pieces of legislation, but now it’s time to dig deeper and keep working,” she said.

    Haaland will be the most senior Native American in the U.S. government since the Republican Charles Curtis, a member of the Kaw nation situated in what is now Kansas, who served as vice-president to Herbert Hoover between 1929 and 1933.

    She will be part of a government facing unprecedented complex and interconnected challenges including an out-of-control pandemic, global economic recession, spiralling hunger, and the climate emergency.

    Haaland’s track record working across partisan lines may also prove vital for Biden’s success, at a time when the country — and lawmakers — are deeply divided.

    She said: “I’ve gotten more Republicans to sign on to my bills than any other Democrat. It’s important for all of us — county commissioners, governors, and mayors, not just Congress – to make sure we’re working together for the greater good. We want to pass laws that will help people across the country, and we need to make sure these messages are getting out … I’m going to continue to reach across the aisle, to protect our environment and make sure that vulnerable communities have a say in what our country is doing moving forward.”

    Haaland, although a progressive Democrat like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, left, has been successful in attracting bipartisan support for her initiatives in Congress. Tom Williams / CQ Roll Call / Getty Images

    The Department of the Interior’s 70,000 or so staff oversee one-fifth of all the land in the U.S. and 1.7 billion acres of coastlines, as well as managing national parks, wildlife refuges and natural resources such as gas, oil, and water.

    A shift in priorities at the interior department could have major implications for global heating as about one-quarter of all US carbon emissions come from fossil fuels extracted on public lands, according to the U.S. Geological Survey.

    Earlier this year, Haaland sponsored a bill that would set a national goal of protecting 30 percent of U.S. lands and oceans by 2030 – a plan since adopted by the Biden administration as a priority for his environmental agenda.

    “Environmental injustice and economic injustice have taken a hold of so many communities, and they’ve had enough. They want us to pay attention and help them to succeed … As far as Indian Country is concerned, I want to make sure tribal leaders — and all marginalized communities — have a seat at the table.”

    In stark contrast to Trump, Haaland believes that Biden will consult Native Americans – as the government is legally obliged to do. “I am confident that this president will pay attention to Indian Country, that’s why I believe so many [Native Americans] came out to vote, and helped him win Arizona and Wisconsin.”

    Restoring protections eroded by Trump for Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante — national monuments in southern Utah which are sacred to Native Americans, is a priority for Haaland.

    November’s elections took place after a summer of unprecedented protests demanding racial justice sparked by the death of George Floyd, a Black man in Minneapolis who was killed by a white police officer kneeling on his neck for almost nine minutes.

    Progressive Democrats, including Haaland and the so-called Squad — made up of congresswomen Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar, Ayanna Pressley, and Rashida Tlaib — elevated demands by protesters for radical structural changes to eradicate racial inequalities in health, housing, immigration, education, jobs, and the environment.

    “So many Native Americans joined the Black Lives Matter protests because Indian Country recognized that we are allies in the fight for environmental justice, economic justice, and racial justice … These communities on the frontline deserve to have the resources to be able to lift themselves up,” Haaland said.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by High Country News and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    An hour before sundown on December 2, Lilly Ford and her family heard a “strange, low rumble” outside of her home in Haines, Alaska. It lasted about a minute as a 600-foot-wide slurry of timber, mud, soil, and debris cascaded down a nearby mountain, through a residential area, and into the ocean. “I couldn’t believe the mountain had swept people and houses away just like that — ripped the ground out from under them,” Ford said. “It’s just not something you’d ever anticipate.”

    Haines, population 2,500, saw more than 8 inches of rainfall during the first two days of December — a total that topped the monthly average by 2 inches. Hundreds of homes on this mountainous peninsula between two inlets and the Canadian border were damaged by floods and debris flows. About 50 households were ordered to evacuate because of landslide danger, and still others were displaced by flooding. A kindergarten teacher and a local businessman are presumed dead.

    Landslides are a growing threat as warm, heavy rain storms — intensified by climate change — flush rock, soil, trees, and debris down slopes onto the land below. In response to deadly landslides across the West, scientists and communities are calling for more resources to better prepare and understand the looming threat. On December 16, Congress heeded that call by passing legislation that will identify the most vulnerable communities and devise emergency plans and warning systems to protect them.


    Southeast Alaska is one of the wettest places in the United States, with some areas drenched by more than 200 inches of rain a year. Lush old-growth yellow and red cedar, Sitka spruce and Western hemlock crowd the region’s Tongass National Forest, the largest intact temperate rainforest in the world. It’s also snowy: thrill-seeking skiers and snowboarders from around the world come to Haines for its legendary deep powder. Now, local weather patterns are being reshaped by climate change.

    Rising temperatures and increased precipitation make heavy rainstorms — like the one that triggered the landslides in Haines and across Southeast Alaska — more likely, said Rick Lader, a scientist at the Alaska Climate Adaptation Science Center. In the last 50 years, temperatures in the region have risen 2 to 3 degrees Fahrenheit, and precipitation has increased by up to 15 percent. Lader said observational records reveal that precipitation intensity — the frequency of days with half an inch of rain or more — is also “significantly increasing.”

    Storms are intensifying more rapidly as the rising temperatures pump extra water vapor into the atmosphere, said Jennifer Francis, a climate scientist with the Woodwell Climate Research Center. Just off the West Coast, wind patterns and the jet stream steer warm moist air toward Alaska, fueling warm, wet storms in the North, and leaving Western states in the Lower 48 high and dry, Francis said. “We’re probably going to see a lot more of these really bizarre events.”

    Warming temperatures and increased precipitation also thaw permafrost in alpine areas and heighten landslide risks. Once-frozen walls of rock, soil, and ice are increasingly prone to slumping down mountains — especially during heavy rains— said De Anne Stevens, engineering geology section chief at the Alaska Division of Geological and Geophysical Surveys.


    On December 3, a day after the catastrophic landslides in Haines, the U.S. House of Representatives passed the National Landslide Preparedness Act. The legislation — authored by Representative Suzan DelBene, in the aftermath of a 2014 landslide in Oso, Washington, that killed 43 people — establishes a federal landslide program with the U.S. Geological Survey. The bill, which passed the Senate in mid-December, awaits the president’s signature. Money from the legislation will fund a federal grant program, expand early warning systems for post-wildfire debris flow and create a database for landslide hazards across the country.

    Annually, landslides kill 25 to 50 people in the United States and cause more than $1 billion in damages. “These statistics will only get worse because of climate change,” DelBene said via email. “The tragedy in Oso, and now unfortunately in Haines, highlights how vulnerable many of our communities are.”

    While landslides are nearly impossible to predict, there are ways to identify the areas at greatest risk and monitor the most hazardous slopes. Landslides are triggered by a number of weather, geologic or human factors, but America’s most frequent and damaging landslides are induced by prolonged or heavy rainfall, especially in areas with steep slopes, wildfire burn scars, or a history of landslides.

    A prototype early warning system is being developed for the Southeast Alaska community of Sitka, where landslides killed three people and destroyed local infrastructure in 2015. Sensors measuring rainfall, pressure and soil moisture content were installed on three mountains near the town, and the data collected from them is monitored by the Sitka Firehall and the Sitka Ranger District. The prototype — a three-year experiment that’s currently in its second year — warns residents when conditions seem likely for a debris flow. During the early December rainstorms, the sensors in Sitka were able to pick up data about storm intensity and moisture levels in mountain top soils while local scientists monitored conditions.

    These systems work: Switzerland, for example, has an active debris-flow mitigation program that includes observation stations equipped with data-collecting instruments connected to a multilevel warning system. In 2017, landslide alarms switched on when the Swiss village of Bondo was about to be hit by the largest landslide the community had seen in decades. The mud flow sent huge granite blocks tumbling into the valley, killing eight hikers. But the warning system, installed in 2012, allowed 150 residents to immediately evacuate to safety.

    In Alaska, adaptation is more feasible than establishing an expensive network of warning systems, said Gabriel Wolken, a state geologist in Haines. It would require identifying and at-risk sites and educating nearby communities with the help of critical baseline information, including high-resolution topographic maps, climate data, and landslide susceptibility and hazard maps. Funding and support included in the National Landslide Act “would undoubtedly provide some benefits to understanding and adapting to landslides in Alaska,” Wolken said.

    Such a database has been on Alaska scientists’ minds since Sitka’s 2015 landslides. That disaster was a wake-up call, said Stevens, the Alaska Division of Geological and Geophysical Surveys section chief. “We’re recognizing that landslides are a very unevaluated hazard within Alaska, particularly in Southeast and Southcentral Alaska, where you have more rugged topography,” she said. “We have such a huge area at risk, with so little data.”

    Without detailed maps, and the baseline support data needed to make them, identification of landslide-prone areas will remain insufficient, and any decisions about possible hazards will be much less informed, Wolken said. “Ultimately, that’s what it’s going to take: the money to be able to collect the data, to be able to make the assessments, to even begin to understand what the magnitude of the problem is,” Stevens said. “We really need to do something about this because this is not going to be the last event.”


    Like many Alaskans, Lily Ford has been deeply affected by the intensified storms and the havoc they wreak on steep, craggy hillsides. There’s a hovering sense of anxiety that could be lifted with better warning systems and preparedness programs.

    Ford’s family has lived in Haines for three years. Only recently, however, have they become aware of landslide risks. When she went to sleep on the first of December, she knew heavy rain was forecast. But she had no idea of the destruction it might bring. When she awoke December 2, she discovered her neighborhood road was washed out, her neighbors were without water and parts of town were flooded.

    Ford and her neighbors — who live on the side of 3,600-foot Ripinsky Mountain, directly above the small town — were warned to be ready to evacuate later that afternoon, only after the landslide that likely claimed two lives set off near her home. “It’s been unsettling, and I don’t think the town or anyone in it will ever be the same,” Ford said. “I’ve never had to choose what’s most important to take from my home, knowing I might not see my house again.” After a week, they were able to return, but she said her family will likely spend the rest of winter with their bags packed, ready to go. “It has changed me.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Cambridge, Massachusetts, has become the first U.S. city to mandate the placing of stickers on fuel pumps to warn drivers of the resulting dangers posed by the climate crisis.

    The final design of the bright yellow stickers, shared with the Guardian, includes text that warns drivers the burning of gasoline, diesel, and ethanol has “major consequences on human health and the environment including contributing to climate change.”

    The stickers will be placed on all fuel pumps in Cambridge, which is situated near Boston and is home to Harvard University, “fairly soon” once they are received from printers, a city spokesperson confirmed.

    “The city of Cambridge is working hard with our community to fight climate change,” the spokesperson added. “The gas pump stickers will remind drivers to think about climate change and hopefully consider non-polluting options.”

    The placement of the stickers follows an ordinance passed by Cambridge in January. The city has a target of slashing planet-heating emissions by 80 percent and offsetting the remainder by 2050, making it carbon neutral.

    Transportation, primarily the use of cars and trucks, is responsible for more than a quarter of U.S. emissions but there has been scant success in weaning Americans off their predilection for large, energy-intensive vehicles. Indeed, a boom in SUV sales in the U.S. threatens to cause a surge in emissions if national fuel efficiency standards are not tightened further.

    Warning labels similar to Cambridge’s are already found in Sweden, although an effort to do likewise in Berkeley, California, was unsuccessful.

    The simple text of the warning stickers is relatively staid compared to versions envisioned by climate campaigners. In a legal complaint lodged against oil giant BP, the environmental non-profit ClientEarth included mockups that showed a forest on fire with a stark list of the disastrous impacts caused by global heating.

    More graphic, visceral warnings would influence people in the way that confronting pictures of gum disease and heart failure on cigarette packets forced many to acknowledge the harm to health caused tobacco, advocates say.

    Jamie Brooks of the campaign group Beyond the Pump said he pushed for warning text that read: “Continuing to burn gasoline (or diesel) worsens the climate emergency, with major projected impacts on your health increasing over time.”

    “Labels are designed to create a feeling like someone has broken a rule or violated a law,” Brooks said. “This feeling, along with increased social pressure, like smoking labels, can translate to a collapse in trust for the current system, thereby increasing the public appetite for alternatives.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by The Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Floating barges fitted with advanced nuclear reactors could begin powering developing nations by the mid-2020s, according to a Danish startup company.

    Seaborg Technologies believes it can make cheap nuclear electricity a viable alternative to fossil fuels across the developing world as soon as 2025.

    Its seaborne “mini-nukes” have been designed for countries that lack the energy grid infrastructure to develop utility-scale renewable energy projects, many of which go on to use gas, diesel, and coal plants instead.

    The ships are fitted with one or more small nuclear reactors, which can generate electricity and transmit the power to the mainland. The first ship of this kind began supplying heat and electricity to the Russian port of Pevek on the East Siberian Sea in December 2019.

    Troels Schönfeldt, the chief executive of Seaborg, said the company’s 100-megawatt compact molten salt reactor would take two years to build and would generate electricity that would be cheaper than coal-fired power.

    Seaborg has raised about €20 million ($24 million) from private investors, including the Danish retail billionaire Anders Holch Povlsen, and received the first of the necessary regulatory approvals within a four-phase process from the American Bureau of Shipping this week.

    Most developing nations have been unable to pursue nuclear energy because it requires a carefully managed regulatory regime to prevent nuclear accidents or proliferation of materials that could be used to create nuclear weapons.

    Seaborg hopes to begin taking orders by the end of 2022 for the nuclear barges, which would be built in South Korean shipyards and towed to coastlines where they could be anchored for up to 24 years, he said.

    The “turn-key solution” is important to fast-growing developing economies to power their nascent industries, purify drinking water, and produce clean-burning hydrogen as demand for energy access rockets in the years ahead.

    “The scale of the developing world’s energy demand growth is mind-boggling,” Schönfeldt said. “If we can’t find an energy solution for these countries, they will turn to fossil fuels and we surely won’t meet our climate targets.”

    The International Energy Agency has found that the accelerating demand for electricity — due to a growing global population and rising levels of affluence — is on course to outpace the growth of renewable energy and increase reliance on fossil fuels.

    Although nuclear energy has been used onboard seaborne vessels for decades to power submarines and “icebreaker” tankers, Seaborg’s design would be one of the first examples of a commercially available nuclear barge used to provide electricity to the mainland.

    Chris Gadomski, a nuclear analyst at Bloomberg New Energy Finance, said: “The concept of a floating nuclear power plant has been around for a long time, and makes a lot of sense. But there are concerns.” There was inherent risk involved with nuclear reactor technologies and floating power plants, so combining two could raise serious questions for investors and governments, he said.

    “In places like the Philippines and Indonesia it makes a lot of sense. But it wasn’t so long ago that the Philippines was the site of a major tsunami, and I don’t know how you would hedge against a risk like that,” he added.

    Jan Haverkamp, from Greenpeace, said floating reactors were “a recipe for disaster” including “all of the flaws and risks of larger land-based nuclear power stations.” “On top of that, they face extra risks from the unpredictability of operation in coastal areas and transport — particularly in a loaded state — over the high seas. Think storms, think tsunamis,” he said.

    Schönfeldt said the advanced reactor was designed to be as safe as possible in a worst-case scenario accident, with a system causing the radioactive material to form a solid rock outside of the reactor core so it cannot disperse into the air or sea as a catastrophically harmful gas or liquid.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by Mother Jones and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The website Women for Natural Gas is a pink-tinged, fancy-cursive-drenched love letter to the oil and gas industry. A prominently featured promo video shows women in hard hats and on rig sites. “Who’s powering the world? We are!” enthuses the narrator. Viewers can click through to a “Herstory” timeline of women working in the oil sector. Another page, about the group’s grassroots network of supporters, announces, “We are women for natural gas,” and shows three professionally dressed ladies alongside their testimonials. There’s a Carey White gushing, “The abundance of oil and gas in Texas helps keep prices at the pump lower.” One Rebecca Washington raves, “Natural gas is a safe, reliable source of energy that provides countless numbers of jobs.”

    But there’s a catch: The women don’t exist.

    A few months ago, I received a tip to look into the website’s testimonials — my tipster suggested that the group was using stock photos to represent the women who had supposedly contributed testimonials about natural gas. A reverse image search revealed that two of the images were indeed stock photos. The third, supposedly of a woman named Carey White, was the professional headshot of Jessi Hempel, a senior editor at-large at LinkedIn. The photo had been published in a brochure when she appeared at a 2020 Tupelo, Mississippi conference for landscape architects.

    Texans for Natural Gas, Youtube

    When I contacted Hempel, she said she had never contributed any photo or testimonial to Women for Natural Gas. She said she found it “incredibly disturbing” that the group was using her image without her permission. “Thank you so much for discovering my image on a website I guarantee you I never would have clicked on,” she told me. Texans for Natural Gas, an oil and gas industry group that created Women for Natural Gas, never responded to Hempel’s or Mother Jones’ inquiries about the photo. The group did eventually swap out Hempel’s image, but only after being contacted twice by a lawyer for Hempel’s employer, LinkedIn. Even then, the testimonial attributed to Carey White remained unchanged — the only difference was that it was accompanied by a new smiling woman’s headshot.

    A closer examination of Women for Natural Gas revealed that for the last year, the group has cycled through different headshots of women and quotes. My reporting suggests that it’s unlikely that the testimonials are genuine. Back in May, the site showed testimonials from Natalie White, Carey White and Natalie Smith, with identical quotes for the two Natalies (notwithstanding the overlapping names). By August, the names had diversified, a little, to Rebecca Washington, Natalie Smith, and Carey White, and the identical quotes had also changed again.

    The original shop hired for Texans for Natural Gas communications is FTI Consulting, a global consultancy with fossil fuel clients and the subject of Hiroko Tabuchi’s New York Times investigation last month. Tabuchi found that FTI has set up at least “15 current and past influence campaigns promoting fossil-fuel interests in addition to its direct work for oil and gas clients.” These campaigns are run by paid consultants, Tabuchi writes, and “often obscure the industry’s role, portraying pro-petroleum groups as grass-roots movements.”

    The NYT reported that FTI Consulting’s spokesperson Matt Bashalany admitted to Texans for Natural Gas’ use of stock photos, but maintained the supporters and testimonials were real. I went back to FTI Consulting to ask whether they would stand by the claim, given the screenshots I had of the website swapping out photos and quotes throughout the year.

    In response, FTI Consulting distanced itself from the project all together. Bashalany emphasized that the website was created by a separate contractor hired directly by the client, and that the testimonials came in through an online form managed by a website contractor. Bashalany directed me to the oil and gas companies that sponsor Texans for Natural Gas, listed on the website, which include XTO Energy (a subsidiary of ExxonMobil), EOG Resources, and Apache Energy). Texans for Natural Gas never returned my calls and emails, and the oil companies declined to comment for the story.

    As of publishing, the site still had the three testimonials up, but removed the headshots all together for pink cartoonish outlines of women.

    As I dug deeper into Texans for Natural Gas, I found other examples of the group courting women. Some were on FrackFeed, the group’s jokey, cringey meme feed with its own website and an Instagram account of more than 4,000 followers.

    On other platforms, Texans for Natural Gas posts memes that downplay the amount of methane that leeches from natural gas operations set against feminine backdrops of fields of flowers and sunsets:

    I asked Texans for Natural Gas why it was particularly interested in reaching women, but neither the group nor its sponsors got back to me. It’s worth noting that over the last few years, the oil and gas industry has been plagued by sexual harassment suits. Employees accused the company Anadarko, acquired last year by Occidental Petroleum, of having “a culture of treating women as sexual playthings who are present at work merely for men’s sexual gratification.” And one female oil worker filed a $100 million suit against the oilfield services company Schlumberger in June, alleging, “Women who work on oil rigs are sexually assaulted, sexually harassed, groped, leered at, and treated as sexual objects by their male colleagues.”

    The women-centered messaging could be a clumsy attempt to distract from those scandals. More likely, though, Texans for Natural Gas is simply hoping to convince the public that women are creating a political demand for a future with natural gas. Other industries have employed this strategy, too: As I reported this year, gas-powered utilities have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on marketing campaigns that hire social media influencers to make cooking with gas stoves seem cool and trendy, despite the indoor air pollution they create. These industries have reason to be worried: Republican and Democratic women tend to care more about the environment and climate change, polling shows. The Guardian has reported on internal polling by the Partnership for Energy Progress, a northwestern coalition of gas utilities and natural gas companies, identifies women between ages 35 and 54 who own homes and have college degrees as “flight risks,” meaning they could soon stop supporting gas stoves and fossil fuels in buildings for environmental reasons.

    Indeed, the claim that natural gas is environmentally friendly is disingenuous. Though it was once seen as the lesser of two evils compared to coal’s high carbon pollution, we’ve learned over the past decade that natural gas has come at a high cost. We’ve vastly undercounted the amount of methane escaping from these operations by as much as 60 percent, reporting from the Environmental Defense Fund shows, as the industry has been largely left to regulate itself. Texans for Natural Gas, run by oil and gas companies, has an interest in downplaying these risks to keep the status quo of a self-regulated industry.

    That the gas industry is peddling dubious claims to women is part of a broader pattern: From alternative health products to far-right conspiracy theories, women have emerged as a prime target for purveyors of disinformation. Indeed, Hempel told me that what bothered her most about the incident was that her photo was being used under a false pretense to spread spurious claims. “How many other places am I taking for granted that somebody is who they say they are, and trusting that an organization is representing that interest?” she said. “How many things do I take for granted when I am gathering information in my professional practice and in my daily life that are total hoaxes?”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by HuffPost and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    The Federal Reserve on Tuesday took its most significant step forward on climate change, announcing that it joined a group of some 75 other central banks focused on rooting out the risk warming poses to the global financial system.

    The U.S. central bank’s five-member governing board voted unanimously last week to become a formal member of the Network of Central Banks and Supervisors for Greening the Financial System, known by the acronym NSGS. The international coalition was founded in 2017 to exchange “ideas, research, and best practices on the development of environment and climate risk management for the financial sector.”

    The mounting billion-dollar disasters wrought by rising global temperatures are only one part of the climate threat to the global banking and finance system. Despite recent steps by some lenders to restrict investments in the dirtiest fossil fuels, particularly coal, financial giants keep giving money to oil and gas companies whose value is largely dependent on the projected ability to profit from new drilling projects during the decades to come. If governments reduce fossil fuel use at the rate scientists say is needed to keep warming in a relatively safe range, those investments could become virtually worthless, potentially causing a financial collapse even more severe than the mortgage-backed securities crisis that triggered the Great Recession more than a decade ago.

    “As we develop our understanding of how best to assess the impact of climate change on the financial system, we look forward to continuing and deepening our discussions with our NGFS colleagues from around the world,” Federal Reserve Board Chair Jerome Powell, a President Donald Trump appointee, said in a statement Tuesday.

    The announcement comes five days after dozens of House Republicans sent a letter to Powell and the Fed Vice Chair of Supervision Randal Quarles urging against joining the NGFS “without first making public commitments to only accept and implement in the U.S. recommendations that are in the best interest of our domestic financial system.” The letter warned of climate scenarios projected by the banks that could hurt “politically unpopular” industries such as coal, oil, and gas.

    “Over the last several years, we have seen banks make politically motivated and public relations-focused decisions to limit credit availability to these industries,” the lawmakers wrote. “Politicizing access to capital and choking off funding to industries that millions of Americans rely on is unacceptable, especially in times of economic and financial uncertainty.”

    The Fed has been long expected to enlist in the NSGS, which it began talks with more than a year ago, joining peers such as the Bank of England and Bank of Japan. Last month, the European Central Bank set out guidelines for climate stress tests it plans to impose on banks in the Eurozone starting in 2022. European regulators, meanwhile, have spent years developing and seeking to standardize definitions of what qualifies as a truly “green” investment.

    The U.S. is nowhere close to that, making the Fed’s ascent to the NSGS akin to President-elect Joe Biden’s plan to restore his country’s place in the Paris climate accords. Trump announced the U.S. withdrawal from those agreements early in his term.

    “The U.S. is the gorilla in the room that hasn’t joined,” said Dylan Tanner, executive director of Influence Map, a British nonprofit that researches climate policies at central banks. “It’s almost like rejoining the Paris Agreement, it’s a natural thing to do under the next administration.”

    As part of the Trump administration’s coronavirus relief efforts, the Fed took on billions in distressed fossil fuel debt; meanwhile, solar and wind companies laid off workers and struggled to stay afloat. The Biden administration is expected to take a starkly different approach, making climate change a top issue across federal agencies, including the Treasury Department.

    Biden could reappoint Powell to the Fed, whose push to keep interest rates low won praise from Janet Yellen, his predecessor and Biden’s pick for Treasury secretary. But other Biden appointments to the Fed’s board of governors are likely to face greater scrutiny of their positions on climate.

    “We applaud the Fed and encourage it to continue raising its ambitions,” said Steven Rothstein, a managing director at the climate-focused investor advocacy group Ceres. “Given that it is responsible for the safety and security of the world’s largest economy, we hope that it will not only catch up with central banks around the world, but, in time, lead the way in addressing systemic financial risk. Our economy deserves no less.”

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by Yale Environment 360 and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Thomas Mnguni often woke to find the windows and floors of his home covered in a layer of black dust. Living between two coal mines and a landfill in Middelburg, South Africa, he and his family breathed some of the country’s most polluted air.

    When Mnguni’s son developed symptoms of asthma, a doctor recommended that the family move to a different part of town. Now living about six miles from the mines, the 14-year-old is doing better. But others in the area aren’t so fortunate. Residents of Middelburg and other communities in an industrialized swath of the Highveld, a plateau in central South Africa, are well acquainted with air pollution and its toll on health. The area — located east of Johannesburg and with a population of 4.7 million — is riddled with coal mines, coal-fired power plants, petrochemical facilities, metal smelters, chemical producers, and other industrial complexes. Mnguni, in his work as a community campaigner for the environmental group groundWork, has met many others dealing with the health consequences of the poor air quality, ranging from asthma to lung cancer.

    Researchers estimate that heightened air pollution levels in the Highveld cause hundreds of early deaths every year. A 2019 Greenpeace report ranked the region among the highest in the world for emissions of two dangerous pollutants, sulfur dioxide and nitrogen dioxide. “It’s emblematic of one of the worst situations of air pollution in the world,” says David Boyd, a United Nations specialist on human rights and the environment. A substantial portion of the Highveld’s population lives in townships — underdeveloped areas on the outskirts of towns— among the mines or in the shadows of industrial facilities.

    The Highveld’s rampant pollution is largely a product of South Africa’s longstanding dependence on coal, which provides nearly 90 percent of the country’s electricity. Close ties between members of South Africa’s ruling party and the coal sector have perpetuated its dominance, enriching a few to the detriment of many. With about half of the country’s recoverable reserves, the Highveld is where the majority of the extraction and burning takes place. In the past century, billions of tons of coal have been dug out of the region’s shallow seams through open-cast and underground mines, and industrial facilities have bloomed near the vast, cheap energy source.

    A landscape of rolling grasslands and farm fields is increasingly dominated by smokestacks and an ever-expanding network of mines. The Highveld is now home to 12 coal-fired power plants and a massive refinery that produces liquid petroleum from coal. This single facility, owned by the South African company, Sasol, generates more greenhouse gas emissions than entire countries such as Norway and Portugal.

    Last year, environmental groups, including groundWork and the Vukani Environmental Movement, filed suit against the South African government for its failure to clean up the choking air pollution, arguing that it violates the residents’ constitutional right to “an environment that is not harmful to their health and well-being.” The case will be heard in court in May, lawyers involved in the litigation recently announced.

    It’s the first court case in South Africa to challenge air pollution on the basis of this constitutional right, but the litigation could have implications internationally as well. While few countries recognize clean air as a fundamental right, more than 150 acknowledge the right to a healthy environment, according to Boyd. He says the South Africa case could make tackling air pollution a human rights obligation, adding, “Right now, it’s not clear that the right to a healthy environment includes the right to breathe clean air.”

    Rico Euripidou, groundWork’s environmental health campaigner, says that “the South African government has this notion in their minds that coal is a gift,” and notes that the ongoing pollution in the Highveld has much to do with industrial activity that benefits the country’s elites. In the first half of the 20th century, the state-owned utility, Eskom, used coal to provide low-cost electricity to gold and diamond mining operations. During the apartheid era, which lasted from 1948 to 1994, the government built more coal-fired power plants and created Sasol to turn coal into fuel, further linking state and corporate interests.

    The Highveld’s poor air quality is a problem that the South African government has recognized for more than a decade. In 2007, the government declared a 12,000-square-mile portion of the Highveld an air pollution hotspot and priority area that required special air quality management action. Five years later, the government published an air quality management plan that outlined goals to bring air quality into compliance with national standards by 2020.

    Air pollution in the Highveld regularly exceeds South Africa’s national air quality standards. In 2018, particulate matter sized 2.5 microns or less exceeded national air quality standards on at least 103 days, according to data from government air quality monitoring stations. These fine particles get into the deepest parts of the lungs and can even infiltrate the bloodstream, causing a variety of ailments, including cardiovascular disease and cancer. Since South Africa’s air quality standards are weaker than the World Health Organization’s (WHO) guidelines, these extreme levels present a significant health hazard, says Peter Orris, professor of environmental and occupational health sciences at the University of Illinois at Chicago. In 2019, the Centre for Environmental Rights, the law firm leading the ongoing legal battle, asked Orris to review the health effects of pollutants from the region’s coal-fired power plants and refineries.

    eMalahleni South Africa power plantThe Kendal Power Station located in eMalahleni , part of the Highveld region turned over to mines and power plants in 2019. Photo credit should read WIKUS DE WET / AFP via Getty Images

    In a 2019 analysis, H. Andrew Gray, an air pollution expert consulting with the Centre for Environmental Rights, estimated that, at their peak, sulfur dioxide and nitrogen dioxide levels in the Highveld’s industrial region are 10 times higher than those the WHO considers safe for human health.

    In Middelburg, asthma is common, says Elise de Kock, a general practitioner at a local hospital. Compared to Johannesburg, asthma cases also tend to be more severe and often land people in the hospital, which she suspects may be due to the pollution. According to Gray’s report, fine particulate matter from the Highveld’s 12 coal-fired power plants and two refineries likely causes at least 300 early deaths per year.

    Thirteen years after the South African government vowed to clean up the Highveld’s air, there has been little progress. “We’re now getting to the end of 2020, and the majority of those goals haven’t been achieved,” says Timothy Lloyd, an attorney at the Centre for Environmental Rights who is handling the ongoing lawsuit. “We still see these really toxic levels of air pollution.”

    South Africa’s unemployment rate is roughly 30 percent, and groundWork’s Mnguni says people often move to the Highveld seeking work in coal-related industries, only to find themselves unable to leave. The hope of getting a job in the mines is the reason that Promise Mabilo, coordinator of the Vukani Environmental Movement, moved to the eMalahleni 23 years ago. Shortly after joining her in the Highveld, her son developed asthma and bronchitis. Growing up, his illness often kept him home from school, sometimes for months at a time, Mabilo says. The winter months, when meteorological phenomena called inversions trap pollution near the ground, are still difficult for him. On some days, the air is so thick “you can’t even see your neighbor,” she says.

    Through the litigation, groundWork and the Vukani Environmental Movement hope to see the federal government create regulations to enforce the management plan it created back in 2012. Right now, it’s just “a paper tiger sitting in someone’s office,” says groundWork’s Euripidou. From April 2016 to December 2017, Eskom exceeded its emissions limits for particulate matter, sulfur dioxide, and nitrogen oxides more than 3,000 times, according to an analysis commissioned by the Centre for Environmental Rights.

    Air quality monitoring is also lacking. Many of the region’s monitoring stations are not functional, according to the government’s midterm review of the Highveld management plan. And although the government tightened sulfur dioxide emissions standards for combustion installations in April, the limits are still significantly weaker than China’s and India’s — two other developing nations with high levels of pollution.

    Meanwhile, the government allows some of the region’s biggest polluters to dodge complying with emissions limits. In 2013, Eskom submitted applications to postpone compliance at 11 of its coal-fired power plants located in the Highveld Priority Area, which the government largely granted. According to a public inquiry, Eskom also was involved in former President Jacob Zuma’s corrupt use of public enterprises. In 2015, while Zuma was in office, the utility awarded a lucrative contract to a mining company owned by his son and his wealthiest supporters, the Gupta family, despite its low-quality coal, according to media reports. In recent years, Eskom has submitted additional applications to postpone, suspend, or alter emissions limits at some of its plants, which are now being reviewed.

    Eskom estimates that bringing its entire fleet of power stations into compliance with emissions limits for all pollutants would cost about 300 billion rand ($19.4 billion), says Deidre Herbst, Eskom’s environmental manager. Instead, the company plans to pursue a lower-cost option by retrofitting plants to control particulate matter, which has a significant impact on health, and decommissioning 10 of its coal-fired power plants in or near the Highveld by 2040, she says.

    For now, however, coal remains the country’s favored energy source. According to a federal energy plan, it will make up the bulk of South Africa’s energy mix at least until 2030. Mnguni hopes that a favorable court ruling on the 2019 suit will force the government to hold polluters accountable. But so far, the government’s track record isn’t encouraging. “They seem to be defending industries more than defending basic human rights,” he says.

    Meanwhile, as residents wait for change, they are stuck relying on the same industries that make them sick. “We are trapped in this place,” says Mnguni.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by Mother Jones and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    Early on in Gather, a new documentary about Native Americans searching for food sovereignty, we follow Nephi Craig on a tour of a former gas station on the White Mountain Apache Nation in eastern Arizona. Craig, a White Mountain Apache/Navajo chef, points to an empty refrigerated case once stocked with energy drinks and packaged snacks. It will soon be full of fresh produce from the farm outside, he explains. The Coke machine on a nearby counter will make way for a cooking fire.

    Craig was once trained as a classical French chef, but the journey “was shadowed by chemical dependency,” addictions to drugs and alcohol. When he “crash-landed” back on the Rez, he began to explore the universe of Native ingredients­–agave, amaranth, squash, Anasazi beans. “That was one of the things that helped me get clean.”

    It also changed his sense of purpose in the kitchen. Atop the bones of the former gas station, he’s now building a new kind of fueling station: Café Gozhóó, a restaurant designed to “nourish and celebrate our Ancestral Intelligence through fresh and local Western Apache cooking,” its menu states, and a professional training ground for people in recovery to learn Indigenous cooking techniques. During the film, local forager Twila Cassadore pushes Craig to expand his palate, including by offering him a sample of a traditional Apache protein, boiled pack rat.

    Craig had to postpone the restaurant’s planned opening in the spring due to the coronavirus, which as of November has infected a fifth of the tribe. But when he finally opens its doors to the public, he envisions Café Gozhóó (the Apache word for harmony/beauty) helping those in the surrounding community break out of their food desert and its accompanying ills, such as high rates of diabetes.

    “When you have food sovereignty, you’re free to be self-reliant, to grow your own food, to choose the foods you want to eat, to choose the foods you want to put in school systems, and really be self-sustaining,” Craig explains. “Our reservations across the United States are far away from being actually food sovereign.”

    Gather, a beautifully shot film directed by Sanjay Rawal (Food Chains, Why We Run), traces three efforts by Native Americans to reclaim their ancestral foodways. These are not sentimental exercises, as Craig indicates. Food sovereignty is an act of resistance, a struggle against an agricultural production regime with violence at its root. Gather never loses sight of the struggle or the violence, unlike its autumnal counterpart and accidental counterpoint, Netflix’s celebrity-packed Kiss the Ground. Both documentaries raise questions about our food system, only from different perspectives and with different priorities. They make for a useful pair, with Gather showing what’s hiding in the white spaces of Kiss the Ground.

    The struggle to recover their hunting and farming systems presents special challenges for Native Americans, because for hundreds of years, they’ve been blocked from doing so by a vicious campaign of colonial greed. European settlers obliterated their food supplies as a way of controlling them.

    “North America, Turtle Island, was colonized for its topsoil,” Rawal explained to me during a conversation earlier this month, citing books like Dee Brown’s Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee and David Treuer’s The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee throughout our conversation. By the mid-eighteenth century, colonial farmers had cultivated the East Coast to the point where soils were being rapidly depleted, and they wanted to move west of the Appalachian Mountains. But the British King George III forbade them with the Royal Proclamation of 1763, which identified land west of the Appalachians as Indian Reserve (some historians point to the proclamation as the real driver of the Revolutionary War).

    Huge land grabs by presidents Thomas Jefferson and later Andrew Jackson pushed that line further and further west, kicking tribes off rich farmland and resettling them onto reservations. As Natives in the Great Plains were forced onto shabbier soil, they increasingly depended on bison to survive. When the railroad companies plotted supply chains going east to west, the buffalo and their migratory hunters “were a complete anathema to that,” Rawal says. Political leaders looked the other way or encouraged settlers to “Kill every buffalo you can!” as one colonel reportedly put it, “every buffalo dead is an Indian gone.”

    In a letter to Major-General Phillip Sheridan on May 10, 1868, General William Tecumseh Sherman wrote that so long as buffalo roamed Nebraska, “Indians will go there. I think it would be wise to invite all the sportsmen of England and America there this fall for a Grand Buffalo hunt, and make one grand sweep of them all.” A mass of beasts 30 to 60 million strong shrank to a few hundred by the end of the 19th century. The government later doled out canned chicken and powdered milk to the decimated tribes as a pitiful substitution.

    Amid the mixed-grass prairie of South Dakota, Fred DuBray, a member of the Cheyenne River Lakota Nation and another one of Gather’s subjects, is trying to bring the buffalo back by raising the animals on his ranch. “A lot of non-Indian people can understand the need to do that, and the good it can do for the land,” DuBray says. “Whereas they don’t understand the need to bring the culture back,” he adds. “We were almost wiped out, too. And we need to kind of grow back together. We can help each other.” Conservationists recognize the animal’s role in the ecosystem—they increase biodiversity, and their dust-wallowing habits help with seed dispersal and water retention, for instance.

    The science doesn’t stop there. DuBray’s daughter Elsie, a high schooler when Gather was filmed, theorizes that the bison meat her family raises and harvests offers more nutrients—a higher proportion of healthy fats, and fewer saturated fats—than its more popular counterpart, beef. She’s out to prove it; the film’s most suspenseful plotline traces her journey to a regional science fair, where her analysis of bison and beef lipids is scrutinized by a panel of judges. (Elsie’s now at Stanford, where she continues to research Indigenous diets as a biology major.)

    Gather, which was co-produced by the nonprofit First Nations Development Institute, does not pretend to take a comprehensive look at the fight for better access to fresh food in Native communities across the country; rather, Rawal shapes the film around three portraits. It avoids lengthy testimonies by university scholars and legal experts, instead leaning on its main subjects to fill in the needed context. “It was important for us to tell the story, straight from the viewpoint of our characters,” Rawal explains. If people want to do a deep dive into food sovereignty, they should read scholarly papers and books on the topic, he says. “If they want to get a snapshot of the emotion behind the movement right now, they could watch Gather.”

    Sammy GenshawSammy Genshaw. Courtesy of Gather.

    The third storyline follows the Ancestral Guard, a group of young men in the Yurok tribe that teach local kids how to fish and smoke salmon along the Klamath River in California’s far north. “We’re salmon people,” says Sammy Gensaw III, the group’s leader.

    Gold Rush prospectors once shot Yuroks on sight to clear them out of the way; only a fraction of them survived the genocide. Much of the Yurok’s remaining densely forested land is in the hands of timber companies or the National Parks system, which leases land to timber companies. More than a century of mining, logging, and the insertion of large dams have left the Klamath River in poor shape, and the supple Chinook and Coho salmon that once kept Yuroks well-fed are either extinct or critically endangered. Members of the Ancestral Guard feel a sense of duty to learn and practice their tribe’s fishing traditions so that they can be passed down to the next generation. “You’re born with a burden of being Indigenous,” Gensaw says. “If you don’t do this, they’ll be gone.”

    There’s a hopeful postscript to this story, though it happened after Gather wrapped: After the Yurok and Karuk tribes organized and protested for decades to demand removal of the dams, PacificCorp, the energy and utility company that owns four dams on the Klamath, withdrew its final objection to their demolition just two weeks ago. The dams are set to come down in 2023. The plan may not be as sweeping as some had hoped, as a Los Angeles Times op-ed argued. But International Rivers, “the world’s most prominent anti-dam nonprofit,” called it “possibly the most important single initiative for river restoration anywhere and at any time.”

    “The industrial revolution is over,” the Ancestral Guard’s Gensaw tells a class at the Yale School of the Environment in one of the film’s final scenes. “Now, if we want to survive, if we want to carry on life on earth, we need to be part of the restorative revolution.”


    Restoration is also the focal point of Netflix’s Kiss the Ground, a documentary narrated by Woody Harrelson that centers on soil health. The film highlights regenerative agriculture, a “new, old approach to farming” that is gaining traction as a potential solution to climate change.

    Harrelson introduces the approach as an antidote to the paralysis many of us feel in the face of rising temperatures and chaotic weather. With pristine diagrams and clear language, the film illuminates the science behind how it all works. I also wrote about it in-depth earlier this year. A recap: Plants inhale carbon dioxide during photosynthesis and turn it into fuel in the form of carbohydrates. Some of those sugars leak out the plant’s roots and nourish soil microbes. The enriched microbes, combined with the decaying stems and leaves of the plant, increase the health of the soil, allowing it to retain more carbon in the earth for longer periods of time.

    Unfortunately, “modern agriculture was not designed for the betterment of the soil,” explains Ray Archuleta, a conservation agronomist and one of the film’s main scientific experts. Industrial agriculture currently leaves huge tracts of land bare, and the exposed soil releases massive amounts of carbon dioxide every year, contributing to global warming. But if farmers tweak their practices to keep fields covered with growth and stop applying synthetic fertilizers and pesticides, they can feed the soil rather than stripping it of its nutrients. The more we can coax soil into better health, the more it sequesters carbon, the more we can flip agriculture from climate change source to sink. As Harrelson puts it: “That’s a big deal.”

    In order to further convince us that this is a big deal, Kiss the Ground stocks its scenes with celebrity advocates who seem ill-suited to the task. Model Gisele Bündchen and football icon Tom Brady are here to tell us about the wonders of a plant-based diet (which in their case is served to them on platters). The slick California governor Gavin Newsom is here to boast about San Francisco’s innovative composting system. Actors Patricia and David Arquette have arrived to brag about traveling to Haiti to teach the locals how to use composting toilets.

    Husband-and-wife directing team Josh Tickell and Rebecca Harrell Tickell previously worked together on The Big Fix, a 2012 documentary about the 2010 BP oil spill. Rebecca Harrell Tickell is a former actress, and the couple owns a film studio and organic avocado farm, Big Picture Ranch, in Ojai. Is that why, when searching for a farmer to school us on agroforestry, they settled on…pop star Jason Mraz? As he urges us to grow our own coffee beans, the earnest Mraz strolls through his tropical fruit tree grove in San Diego while lyrics from his own song echo behind him, like a Gap commercial.

    The aforementioned scenes underscore the film’s greatest weakness: By fixating on celebrities and centering on mostly white experts and farmers, Kiss the Ground offers a narrow view of the regenerative agriculture movement. It fails to explore how its characters are drawing on and profiting from wisdom held by Indigenous farmers for centuries.

    As blogger and podcaster Kamea Chayne points out, the film, in one of its promotional graphics, implies that it has documented a “new breakthrough.” In fact, Indigenous people across North America practiced agriculture in a way that promoted healthy soil and therefore carbon sequestration. They managed crops, trees, and animals together, for instance, and planted legumes to fix nitrogen into the ground.

    “White people didn’t ‘discover’ how to care for Earth,” writes Rishi Kumar, a garden educator who goes by Farmer Rishi, in a response to Kiss the Ground that he posted on his Instagram page in October. Kumar says he worked as a contractor for the nonprofit Kiss the Ground, which is affiliated with the film, until he left the organization in August. Indigenous peoples, he writes, have been “robbed of their homelands, forced to forget their languages and cultural traditions.” Now they are being told, as Kumar puts it, “Hey, science (read: white people) has now validated what you’ve been doing” for millennia, but “you’re still not getting your land back.”

    On Tuesday it was announced that the Tickells are being awarded a humanitarian award from the Red Nation International Film Festival. In a press release, Archuleta, the film’s star agronomist, described as “a person of both Native American and Latino heritage,” said that he was proud to be part of the project and saw it fitting that the directors should win the award. But critiques like Kumar’s may have seeped into the film’s orbit. The executive director of the nonprofit Kiss the Ground, Ryland Engelhart, called the film’s lack of cultural representation a “big miss” in an emailed statement and informed me that the organization was working on an educational cut of the documentary more focused on the Indigenous roots of regenerative practices.

    Beyond its lack of diverse representation, Kumar argues, the film has a larger foundational problem: It refuses to view “the carbon in the atmosphere, and climate change more broadly” as a “symptom of a global colonial culture that treats Earth and people of color as resources to be mined.”

    The film’s outlook remains sheltered under the auspices of modern capitalism. “The more you farm like nature,” Archuleta, the soil scientist, tells a group of white growers in Kansas at the start of the film, “the more money you can make.” He’s not alone in suggesting this. Tech companies have been exploring how to create financial incentives for carbon farming, and now so is Joe Biden’s team. But given where agribusiness has gotten us up until now, it’s worth asking: Should repairing the damage done by exploiting nature simply be a matter of recalibrating how we profit from a natural process?

    Kiss the Ground focuses on a practical solution for drawing down emissions that won’t require farmers to leave their industry or force people to give up the foods they love. At its best, it’s an informative film that might make you feel somewhat hopeful about the struggle against climate change.

    But don’t get too cozy. As chef Nephi Craig says in Gather, “the first step in this is understanding violence in all its forms.” Kiss the Ground glosses over the political and cultural history at the root of today’s environmental havoc. It would have you forget the suppression of Indigenous farmers, who have practiced soil-friendly techniques for centuries. When a movement’s messengers are mostly over-hyped white-savior types, pro athletes, and sugary movie stars, it’s worth asking whom the message is for and whether the solution offered is meant to benefit us all.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.

  • This story was originally published by Yale E360 and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

    For four years the country has been governed by the GOP and only one guy has gotten to talk — disagree with him and you became a non-person.

    That’s not Joe Biden’s style, and it’s not in the Democratic Party’s cellular structure. Indeed, we’re only a few days in to the new world, and there’s already considerable talking underway. Shouting even. Figuring out how to handle it — how to make it constructive instead of destructive — is going to be a big part of making the next four years as productive as they can be. And since we desperately need them to be effective on climate — and on racial justice, on health care, on immigration — we better learn how to talk.

    One meta-argument is underway: “left” versus “center,” personified as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez versus some Congresspeople you’ve vaguely heard of from purplish districts who don’t like anyone talking about socialism. But while that splashy fight is drawing the attention of pundits, there’s another subtler communications question that has to get worked out: How do different parts of the Democratic coalition get across the things that really matter to them, like climate change, in a way that makes the point crystal clear, but doesn’t cut off the chance of future dialogue?

    This is inherently hard, because activists are deeply invested in the issues they work on — often they’re volunteers, always they’re passionate. As Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor pointed out in a wise essay this week, the pent-up demand for change is almost beyond imagining. Therefore, the urge, when frustrated, to stalk away from your partner in a holy rage will always be there. But those of us who care deeply about climate are married to the Biden administration for at least the next four years — they know it, we know it. It’s not going to be a storybook relationship, but it can be more, rather than less, successful.

    One useful lesson from marriage is that when there are things you really care about, you have to have a way of getting that across. Here’s the climate example of the week: The Biden transition team signaled in Politico last weekend that they were thinking of returning Ernest Moniz to his Obama-era position atop the Department of Energy. For most Americans watching from the sidelines, this won’t even rise to the level where they’d notice; Moniz seems notable only for a haircut that makes him look like an extra from “Hamilton.” But for those of us engaged every day in this work, it’s an ominous sign: Moniz represents an old approach to our energy dilemmas, one that’s rooted in the use of natural gas and resistant to the all-in approach on renewables that activists (and scientists) recommend.

    That’s why Evan Weber, political director of the Sunrise Movement — the youth-led movement that brought us the Green New Deal — immediately tweeted out: “No one with fossil fuel ties belongs in Biden’s cabinet … Moniz’s archaic energy views would build us a bridge to climate catastrophe.” That’s a blunt but not overbearing warning — it’s different from saying, “So-and-so must be Energy Secretary.” There are, realistically, a couple hundred people who could do the job, and so this preserves plenty of maneuvering room for the transition team.

    It also hints at the main reasons why this kind of move would be a troubling one for Biden to make. First, it’s a bad idea on policy grounds. Moniz is indeed archaic — technology has changed incredibly fast since the start of his term at DOE in the second Obama administration. Solar and wind power have seen costs fall on the order of 90 percent, which means we don’t actually need the natural gas “bridge” he sold the Obama administration on; the carbon capture projects he subsidized at DOE were vastly uneconomic. Second, it’s a bad idea optically — he’s taken lots of money to serve on the boards of various fossil fuel concerns, most notably the Southern Company. His friends will surely argue that all that cash has not affected his views, and perhaps they’re right — but it’s surely altered how the rest of us perceive him. At various points in the next four years, the Biden administration is going to have to give us bad news on the climate and energy front — the lack of a Senate majority almost guarantees that. It’s going to need a messenger who people have reason to trust, and Moniz isn’t it.

    Demonstrators call for a Green New Deal at a “Fire Drill Friday” protest in Washington, D.C. John Lamparski / Getty Images

    Those signals should be enough for a savvy transition team that is, one hopes, trying to keep Biden out of unnecessary battles, since there will clearly be more than enough trouble he can’t avoid. But the signal also comes from people who earned the right to be heard: The Sunrise Movement, in the wake of a tough primary loss for their guy Bernie Sanders, didn’t walk away. They partnered effectively with the Biden campaign, helping reach a shared policy platform and then delivering millions of phone-banking calls. They are, in other words, a power — probably the most important electoral force in the environmental movement at this point.

    Moniz’s backers, by contrast, come largely from a bloc of pretty centrist environmental think tanks with no mass following at all, and from the building trades unions who applaud his support for constructing lots of really big and expensive stuff, especially if it has to do with natural gas. Given that the North America’s Building Trades Unions didn’t endorse Biden until October 23 and that they’d been backing Trump from the first day of his new administration — well, it’s politically pretty clear that you have to dance with the one that brung you. Which is not to say you hang the building trades out to dry: Biden’s call for unity is real and important, and any plan for the future needs to be very focused on making sure that people currently building oil pipelines have something else to build instead.

    In fact, the ability to figure out a “just transition” is crucial to making progress at the speed we need to go — and it’s entirely possible that a guy from Scranton, with deep ties to Rust Belt unionism, is better positioned to do precisely this than most people in the environmental movement. It’s a place where he should be given some room to operate, especially since he’s been willing to say the essential thing out loud: that we must transition away from the oil industry. Those words in the last debate were powerful, and they did not doom him — not in Pennsylvania or Colorado or in other places with lots of fossil fuel jobs. He’s earned some credibility.

    The environmental movement will win any fight over Moniz, I imagine, but it won’t win every fight. Biden doesn’t have much margin — even if the Democrats somehow win both Georgia Senate seats and hence take control of a tied Senate, West Virginia’s Joe Manchin has said he won’t vote to end the filibuster — nor, likely, for anything that looks like a sweeping Green New Deal. And that’s a bitter shame, because it’s all desperately needed. But you live with the political reality you have while you try to build the political reality you need, and simply denouncing the Dems won’t get you any closer to the latter, emotionally satisfying as it may be. Waging important fights while not damaging the Biden presidency, and Democratic prospects in the midterms, and the next presidential election will be incredibly hard — but since climate legislation (and support for all other progressive legislation) depends on just that, we better figure out how.

    I have a few memories of the last time we were in this position, when Barack Obama was elected in 2008. It was a very different scene, of course: Occupy Wall Street hadn’t happened, Black Lives Matter had yet to be born, Bernie Sanders hadn’t yet run, and AOC had just turned old enough to vote, so there was less of a progressive movement, and much less of a climate movement. The Obama administration was in the midst of the headlong expansion of the oil and gas industry that would eventually make America the biggest hydrocarbon producer on the planet. Climate activists knew what was happening was wrong, but we debated long and hard about whether to take on the Keystone XL Pipeline because we also knew that it meant challenging a president popular with Democrats, the first African American president.

    So when we went to work we didn’t attack him — instead we explained that we were giving Obama the room to do what he’d said he wanted to do. When 1,254 went to jail after anti-fossil-fuel demonstrations in D.C. at the start of that campaign in 2011, most were wearing Obama buttons, because that’s what we’d asked them to do. A few months later, when we surrounded the White House — people five-deep around a mile-and-a-half perimeter — we said he might want to think of it not as a house arrest, but as a group hug. I’m not naïve — I know Obama didn’t really want protesters forcing his hand on what he thought was a secondary issue. (He was wrong about that, by the way — Keystone XL turned out to be a critical battle, demonstrating that it was possible to stand up to Big Oil, and hence helping spur crusades against every big new infrastructure project). But certainly it was better — and more tactically effective — to take him on in the spirit of unity, not the spirit of division.

    Opponents of the Keystone XL and Dakota Access pipelines hold a rally in 2017 as they protest President Donald Trump’s executive orders advancing their construction. Saul Loeb / AFP via Getty Images

    Another way to keep the mood from turning impossibly bitter is to remember that Washington isn’t all that counts. In the climate fight, for instance, it’s clear that action from Wall Street is crucial too — the divestment push, now at $15 trillion in endowments and portfolios, has made a huge difference, as has the Stop the Money Pipeline coalition, which has started convincing financial institutions to ditch fossil fuels.

    And here the Biden administration can provide massive help: Mitch McConnell can’t stop the Treasury Department, the SEC, and the Fed from forcing banks to take climate risk seriously. People in the right positions who understand that risk, like Elizabeth Warren and former Federal Reserve Board member Sarah Bloom Raskin, will make that fight much easier by, say, requiring companies to disclose their climate risk, and by turning institutions like the Export-Import Bank away from fossil fuels. When Mark Carney, Governor of the Bank of England, started down this path five years ago, it sent tremors through the fossil fuel financial complex, and those would be seismic if they came from Wall Street, not just the City of London. It’s possible, in fact, that these could turn out to be the most important climate actions a Biden administration will ever take.

    This will always, inevitably, be a hard marriage. Denied action for so long, and in need of such deep change, the broad progressive movement will rightly demand a lot. Biden will have to deliver all he can. And we will need to figure out a way to keep it from turning into an ugly split that benefits no one.

    Editor’s note: Bill McKibben is a member of Grist’s Board of Directors.

    This post was originally published on Radio Free.