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Human history is something like 200,000 years old, which means we’ve had a lot of time to come up with really bad ideas.
Bloodletting. “Dynamic ticket pricing.” Invading Russia in the winter. The McLobster. You get the picture; they’ve not all been winners.
Around the turn of the 2010s, another brilliant-at-the-time idea popped into our disproportionally large prefrontal cortexes. Maybe, this niggling went, the cavemen actually had it better than we do?
This idea — which, if you consider it for more than 10 seconds, is obviously wrong, since cavemen lived in a world that had sabertooth tigers but not microwaves and walk-in urgent cares — nevertheless took off. The “Paleo diet” exploded in popularity. Fitness bros started doing Crossfit and other strength-centric ancestral exercises and overenthusiastically donated their blood to mimic the acquisition of Stone Age wounds. Being a nice parent got rebranded, favorably, as “caveman parenting.” Kevin Roose wrote an entire piece about the benefits of pooping like a caveman. These were dark times.
Fads come and go, and we’ve mostly course corrected since then. Yuval Noah Harari, whose 2014 bestseller Sapiens made him a superstar and contributed to the belief that Stone Ages humans were happier, has since been taken down a notch by fact-checkers. The Crossfit guy got canceled, high-intensity interval training is out, and “sculpt” — not a word one usually associates with cavemen — is in. We’ve at last decided that toe-shoes, meant to get us closer to our barefoot ancestors, are “stupid” and must be stopped.
Some vestiges of Stone Age mania remain, though many of the trends have moderated and become more reasonable. The Paleo diet peaked in 2013, but it’s not gone completely away; there is renewed interest, as one would expect, every January. Still, much of the diet’s foundational science — that we need to eat the foods our bodies were “optimized” to eat during the Stone Age, before the evils wrought by the agricultural revolution and its diabolical offspring: processed sugars and carbohydrates — has been debunked.
Eating whole and sustainable foods, though, isn’t going away. The “pegan diet” (from “Paleo” and “vegan”) is “like the Paleo diet,” one dietitian nutritionist has explained, in that it focuses on foods that “early humans would have hunted or gathered. But the twist is that most of your daily food intake will be plants.” Many researchers say this is the more accurate ancient diet anyway, not to mention far better for the planet. You don’t even need to justify the meal plan by saying our Neolithic forefathers did it: It’s a good idea because it’s a smart and ethical way of eating to address problems that exist in our modern world.
The extreme, macho deprivations of the early 2010s caveman trend have also had their edges sanded off. Interest in “living off the grid” has fallen since its 2013/2014 highs, but the comparatively comfy “van life” has slowly grown. People still crave an escape from the blinking, beeping demands of modern life — there is currently an 18-month-long waitlist to be shut in a completely dark, scantly furnished room in Oregon with no TV or phone, and it costs $250 a night — but that has more to do with the anxieties and demands of contemporary life than misplaced beliefs about the superiority of cavemen living. Unplugging every now and then is a good thing, even at its most literal, but not specifically because it makes us more like Ötzi the Iceman.
It seems clear in retrospect why we wanted so badly to live like cavemen: Modern life is hard. There's consumption fatigue that comes from having 62 different Oreo varieties on the shelf in the grocery store and we want someone to take over decision-making (even if that decision required an at-home meat locker). We are so time-pressed that a scientific blessing for quick workouts and winging-it parenting is very enticing. We may also sense that nature is in peril and so we long for the days when we hadn't destroyed so much of it. Every generation yearns for a “better, simpler time" but, as Gillian Osbourne at The New Inquiry wrote back in 2014, "our gazing at the oil wars and rising sea levels of today have provoked collective sighs for deep, and distant, ecological histories."
Of course, while the caveman lifestyle may have spoken to real needs, it was impossibly, laughably selective in picking what it elevated to importance. We were supposed to eat like cavemen because our bodies are genetically similar to early humans’ but no one proposed treating infections with Stone Age first-aid, even if the same principle applied.
With a healthy perspective and accurate science, ancient ways of living can still be productive sources of inspiration. But let’s not bring everything back. Because you know what else is technically an ancient and natural idea? Cannibalism.
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In some ways, fossil fuels make snowstorms like the one currently bearing down on the U.S. even more dangerous.
The relationship between fossil fuels and severe weather is often presented as a cause-and-effect: Burning coal, oil, and gas for heat and energy forces carbon molecules into a reaction with oxygen in the air to form carbon dioxide, which in turn traps heat in the atmosphere and gradually warms our planet. That imbalance, in many cases, makes the weather more extreme.
But this relationship also goes the other way: We use fossil fuels to make ourselves more comfortable — and in some cases, keep us alive — during extreme weather events. Our dependence on oil and gas creates a grim ouroboros: As those events get more extreme, we need more fuel.
This weekend, some 200 million Americans will be cranking up the thermostats in their natural-gas-heated homes, firing up their propane generators, or hitting icy roads in their combustion-engine cars as a major winter storm brings record-low temperatures to 35 states, knocks out power, and grinds air travel to a halt.
Climate change deniers love to use major winter storms as “proof” that global warming isn’t real. But in the case of this weekend’s polar vortex, there is evidence that Arctic warming is responsible for the record cold temperature projections across the United States.
“In the Arctic, in the winter, the ocean is much, much warmer than the atmosphere,” Judah Cohen, a climatologist at MIT and the author of a 2021 paper linking Arctic variability to extreme weather in the U.S., told me. Sea ice acts as an insulating layer separating the warmer ocean water from the frigid air. But as it melts — as it is doing every month of the year — “all of this heat can now be extracted out of the ocean.” The reduced temperature difference between the ocean and atmosphere creates wavy high-pressure ridges and low-pressure troughs that are favorable to the formation of polar vortices, which can funnel extreme cold air down over North America, as they seemingly did over Texas in 2021’s Winter Storm Uri, when 246 people died.
The exact mechanisms and interactions of this phenomenon are still up for debate. “I am in the minority that argues that there is causal link between a warm Arctic and cold continents,” Cohen added to me via email. “Most others argue that it is a coincidental relationship.” Still, scientists generally agree that extreme cold events will persist in a warming world; they’ll just become rarer.
Cold kills more people in the United States than heat, but curiously, warmer winters aren’t likely to significantly reduce these seasonal deaths. That’s because about half of the cases of excess mortality in winter are from cardiovascular diseases, which are, by nature, “highly seasonal,” Kristie Ebi, a professor of global health at the University of Washington, told me. “Since people began studying these, there are more of them in the winter than there are in the summer.” Researchers still aren’t sure why that is — though since the 1940s, we’ve known that people’s blood pressure, cholesterol, and even blood viscosity go up during the colder and darker months, perhaps due to changes in diet or exercise. That also appears to be the case regardless of climate or temperature, holding true whether you’re in Yellowknife or Miami.
In other words, “if seasonal factors other than temperature are mainly responsible for winter excess mortality, then climate warming might have little benefit,” Patrick Kinney, the director of Columbia University’s Climate and Health Program, wrote in Environmental Research Letters back in 2015. Extreme heat-related deaths, by contrast, have no ceiling, meaning global warming will result in more temperature-related deaths than it will prevent.
Our anthropogenically warmer winters could even prove to be more deadly in certain ways. Dana Tobin is a researcher at the Cooperative Institute for Research in Environmental Sciences at the University of Colorado Boulder who studies how weather affects traffic accidents. She’s found that driving in freezing rain is more dangerous than driving in snow “because of the ice glaze that it can produce on surfaces, especially those that are untreated,” she told me. As winters become warmer, there will, counterintuitively, be more ice on roads in many places, since freezing rain requires a bit of warm air before it hits the ground and becomes black ice.
Researchers working in Scandinavia have similarly found that as the atmosphere warms and more days hover around freezing, “there is a higher risk of icy conditions … which may lead to a predisposition to falls and road traffic accidents.” (As I’ve previously reported, milder winters might also make us even more depressed than very cold ones.)
There is something slightly karmic about the fact that cars become increasingly unsafe as the planet, warmed by their emissions, becomes more hazardous. But this connection gets even bleaker when carbon monoxide poisoning is factored in.
On Thursday, the North American Electric Reliability Corporation issued a statement warning that “much of North America is at an elevated risk of having insufficient energy supplies to meet demand in extreme operating conditions,” including “advancing winter weatherization of power plants and fuel acquisition to enable operations during cold temperatures.” Heavy ice can also snap branches above power lines, causing local outages.
When the power goes out or the gas lines freeze, desperate people will do anything to stay warm. That includes, in tragic cases, running improperly vented generators or plugging in propane heaters indoors, which can produce odorless and colorless CO — instead of the usual water and carbon dioxide — when fossil fuels don’t burn correctly. Accidental carbon monoxide poisoning is on the rise in the United States due to the proliferation of such appliances amid increasingly frequent extreme weather events, jumping 86% between 2012 and 2022. That’s even as, worldwide, carbon monoxide poisoning is decreasing.
Snow and ice are among the most dangerous weather conditions in the U.S., and people should take warnings of “life-threatening conditions” at face value. Tobin, the traffic researcher, stressed that one of the best protections from winter weather hazards is knowledge alone. “I believe the best thing that we can do when it comes to messaging to protect drivers from hazards is to empower motorists to make educated and informed decisions for their own safety and the safety of others,” she told me.
Winter storms highlight the entangled nature of our dependence on fossil fuels. We can’t separate extreme weather events from the energy required to survive them. But the dark irony is that, as the planet becomes more volatile, the most dangerous fossil fuels might be the ones meant to keep us warm and get us back home.
The cloak-and-dagger approach is turning the business into a bogeyman.
It’s time to call it like it is: Many data center developers seem to be moving too fast to build trust in the communities where they’re siting projects.
One of the chief complaints raised by data center opponents across the country is that companies aren’t transparent about their plans, which often becomes the original sin that makes winning debates over energy or water use near-impossible. In too many cases, towns and cities neighboring a proposed data center won’t know who will wind up using the project, either because a tech giant is behind it and keeping plans secret or a real estate firm refuses to disclose to them which company it’ll be sold to.
Making matters worse, developers large and small are requiring city and county officials to be tight-lipped through non-disclosure agreements. It’s safe to say these secrecy contracts betray a basic sense of public transparency Americans expect from their elected representatives and they become a core problem that lets activists critical of the data center boom fill in gaps for the public. I mean, why trust facts and figures about energy and water if the corporations won’t be up front about their plans?
“When a developer comes in and there’s going to be a project that has a huge impact on a community and the environment – a place they call home – and you’re not getting any kind of answers, you can tell they’re not being transparent with you,” Ginny Marcille-Kerslake, an organizer for Food and Water Watch in Pennsylvania, told me in an interview this week. “There’s an automatic lack of trust there. And then that extends to their own government.”
Let’s break down an example Marcille-Kerslake pointed me to, where Talen Energy is seeking to rezone hundreds of acres of agricultural land in Montour County, Pennsylvania, for industrial facilities. Montour County is already a high risk area for any kind of energy or data center development, ranking in the 86th percentile nationally for withdrawn renewable energy projects (more than 10 solar facilities have been canceled here for various reasons). So it didn’t help when individuals living in the area began questioning if this was for Amazon Web Services, similar to other nearby Talen-powered data center projects in the area?
Officials wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say if the project was for Amazon, in part because one of the county commissioners signed a non-disclosure agreement binding them to silence. Subsequently, a Facebook video from an activist fighting the rezoning went viral, using emails he claimed were obtained through public records requests to declare Amazon “is likely behind the scenes” of the zoning request.
Amazon did not respond to my requests for comment. But this is a very familiar pattern to us now. Heatmap Pro data shows that a lack of transparency consistently ranks in the top five concerns people raise when they oppose data center projects, regardless of whether they are approved or canceled. Heatmap researcher Charlie Clynes explained to me that the issue routinely crops up in the myriad projects he’s tracked, down to the first data center ever logged into the platform – a $100 million proposal by a startup in Hood County, Oregon, that was pulled after a community uproar.
“At a high level, I have seen a lack of transparency become more of an issue. It makes people angry in a very unique way that other issues don’t. Not only will they think a project is going to be bad for a community, but you’re not even telling them, the key stakeholder, what is going on,” Clynes said. “It’s not a matter of, are data centers good or bad necessarily, but whether people feel like they’re being heard and considered. And transparency issues make that much more difficult.”
My interview with Marcille-Kerslake exemplified this situation. Her organization is opposed to the current rapid pace of data center build-out and is supporting opposition in various localities. When we spoke, her arguments felt archetypal and representative of how easily those who fight projects can turn secrecy into a cudgel. After addressing the trust issues with me, she immediately pivoted to saying that those exist because “at the root of it, this lack of transparency to the community” comes from “the fact that what they have planned, people don’t want.”
“The answer isn’t for these developers to come in and be fully transparent in what they want to do, which is what you’d see with other kinds of developments in your community. That doesn’t help them because what they’re building is not wanted.”
I’m not entirely convinced by her point, that the only reason data center developers are staying quiet is because of a likelihood of community opposition. In fairness, the tech sector has long operated with a “move fast, break things” approach, and Silicon Valley companies long worked in privacy in order to closely guard trade secrets in a competitive marketplace. I also know from my previous reporting that before AI, data center developers were simply focused on building projects with easy access to cheap energy.
However, in fairness to opponents, I’m also not convinced the industry is adequately addressing its trust deficit with the public. Last week, I asked Data Center Coalition vice president of state policy Dan Diorio if there was a set of “best practices” that his large data center trade organization is pointing to for community relations and transparency. His answer? People are certainly trying their best as they move quickly to build out infrastructure for AI, but no, there is no standard for such a thing.
“Each developer is different. Each company is different. There’s different sizes, different structures,” he said. “There’s common themes of open and public meetings, sharing information about water use in particular, helping put it in the proper context as well.”
He added: “I wouldn’t categorize that as industry best practice, [but] I think you’re seeing common themes emerge in developments around the country.”
Plus more of the week’s biggest renewable energy fights.
Cole County, Missouri – The Show Me State may be on the precipice of enacting the first state-wide solar moratorium.
Clark County, Ohio – This county has now voted to oppose Invenergy’s Sloopy Solar facility, passing a resolution of disapproval that usually has at least some influence over state regulator decision-making.
Millard County, Utah – Here we have a case of folks upset about solar projects specifically tied to large data centers.
Orange County, California – Compass Energy’s large battery project in San Juan Capistrano has finally died after a yearslong bout with local opposition.
Hillsdale County, Michigan – Here’s a new one: Two county commissioners here are stepping back from any decision on a solar project because they have signed agreements with the developer.