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Vermont is on the verge of becoming the first state to try it.
Dozens of cities and states have tried to sue the oil industry for damages related to climate change over the past several years, and so far, none of these cases has been successful. In fact, not one has even made it to trial.
In the meantime, the price tag for climate-related impacts has climbed ever higher, and states are growing more desperate for help with the bill. Out of that desperation, a new legal strategy was born, one that may have a better chance of getting fossil fuel companies to pay up. And Vermonters may be the first to benefit.
It’s called a climate superfund bill, and versions of it are floating through legislative chambers in New York, Massachusetts, and Maryland, in addition to Vermont. Though each bill is slightly different, the general premise is the same: Similar to the way the federal Superfund law allows the Environmental Protection Agency to seek funds retroactively from polluters to clean up contaminated sites, states will seek to bill fossil fuel companies retroactively for the costs of addressing, avoiding, and adapting to the damages that the emissions from their products have caused.
Though New York was the first state to introduce a climate superfund bill two years ago, Vermont may be the first to get it through a legislature. On Friday, the Vermont Senate voted 21 to five to approve amendments to the bill, and will vote next week on whether to send it to the House. An equivalent bill in the House is cosponsored by nearly two-thirds of state representatives and the policy also won the support of Vermont’s Attorney General.
If it gets past the governor’s desk, the bill will kick off a multiyear process that, in the most optimistic case, could bring money into the state by 2028. The first step is for the state Treasurer to assess the cost to Vermont, specifically, of emissions from the extraction and combustion of fossil fuels from 1995 to 2024, globally. Regulators will then request compensation from responsible parties in proportion to the emissions each company contributed. The state will identify responsible parties by focusing only on the biggest emitters, companies whose products generated at least a billion tons of emissions during that time. The money will go toward implementing a state “resilience and implementation strategy” to be mapped out in the next two years.
The idea of states retroactively billing fossil fuel companies for damages outside the context of a lawsuit might sound a little far-fetched. Or, at least, I thought it was when I first heard about it. How can that be legal?
Anthony Iarrapino, the lead lobbyist supporting the bill for the Conservation Law Foundation, a New England-based environmental law nonprofit, explained it this way. There is established case law that deals with retroactive liability in the context of hazardous waste — again, the Superfund law. “Even if your activities were legal at the time you undertook them, if they result in making a mess, then you can be on the hook for cleaning that mess,” he told me. “The idea here is looking at climate disruption as a polluted site.”
How is that fair? Well, the legal precedents supporting the Superfund law and similar policies turn on a key question. Did the companies understand that their activities were potentially harmful at the time they engaged in them? “If, objectively, you knew or should have known that your conduct, whether it was legal or not, was likely to result in damages that would impose costs on society,” Iarrapino said, “then it's fair, from a lookback perspective, to hold you accountable when those damages begin to manifest in the environment or in impacts to human health.” That’s because, according to precedent, you essentially assumed the risk that at some point in the future, you might be on the hook.
By now there’s a mountain of evidence that fossil fuel companies like Exxon did, in fact, know how damaging their products would be several decades before the period covered by the Vermont bill, based on internal research not shared with the public at the time. But Ben Edgerly Walsh, an advocate at the Vermont Public Interest Research Group, told me that even absent that evidence, they should have recognized the risk based on the scientific consensus that emerged in the 1970s and 1980s. To wit: Vermont chose 1995 as the start year for its bill because that’s when the first United Nations climate change conference was held.
“We shouldn't have to bear the cost of this ourselves,” said Walsh. “These oil companies that are still making hundreds of billions of dollars in profit annually should have to pay their fair share for the cost of the climate crisis they caused.”
Underpinning the bill — as well as many of the related lawsuits — is the advancement of “attribution science,” or the ability to quantify the economic losses that a region has borne due to anthropogenic climate change, as well as future losses that are already baked in, and then attribute them back to particular emitters. In testimony for the Vermont superfund bill, Justin Mankin, an associate professor at Dartmouth, stressed that these are peer reviewed, consensus, scientific methods — and that in general, they are conservative. “It is my opinion that we are systematically underestimating the economic cost of climate change to date,” he told the Vermont Judiciary Committee in February. “And that is because all of these climate damage cost assessment methods are inherently conservative, or limited by data.”
The bill’s sponsors also looked to research from Richard Heede, creator of the famous “Carbon Majors” database, which calculated the emissions of major fossil fuel companies based on the amount of oil, gas, and coal they each extracted and found that some 70% of fossil fuel emissions since 1988 can be attributed to 100 companies. In testimony to the Vermont Senate, Heede estimated that about 68 companies would be captured by the bill’s billion-ton threshold.
Of course, the fossil fuel industry patently disputes the science that Heede and Mankin expounded. The American Petroleum Institute submitted testimony warning of the “difficulties of establishing a conclusive link between anthropogenic climate change and alleged injuries to Vermont” and arguing that the emissions from individual companies over the last several decades cannot “be determined with great accuracy.” The group also called it “unfair” to charge the companies that sold oil and gas, considering they “did not combust fossil fuels but simply extracted or refined them in order to meet the needs and demands of the people.”
That might be where the biggest weak spot in the climate superfund bills — as well as the climate damages lawsuits — lies. There’s an underlying philosophical question, Martin Lockman, a climate law fellow at Columbia University, told me. Who in the supply chain is responsible for the pollution from fossil fuels?
The answer turns on a moral argument that fossil fuel companies have made enormous profits from fossil fuels for decades, all while knowing what the harms would be. “From a moral perspective, I think that these are very justified,” said Lockman, “but that will certainly get opened in litigation.”
If any of the climate superfund bills pass, they will absolutely be challenged in court. One reason they may see more success than the more direct lawsuits, however, is that they flip the burden of proof. If Vermont sued oil companies for damages, the burden would be on Vermont to prove its case, and as the defendants, the oil companies would get a “bag of tricks” to use to stall the case and make it very expensive to pursue, said Iarrapino. For example, many of these lawsuits have been delayed by years-long arguments over whether they should be tried in state or federal court, or whether the oil companies have to release certain documents.
“Even though it’s the same harms and the same contexts,” Iarrapino told me, “you’ve got a balance of power where they can win the case by losing slowly.” But if oil companies sue Vermont, for example, by calling its law unconstitutional, the burden of proof will be on them, and the state will have no incentive to delay the case.
I should note here that the federal Superfund law is not exactly the ideal model for this policy. Much of the time, the EPA can’t track down a company to ascribe blame for the contamination, and taxpayers end up footing the bill of the cleanup. Even when it does find a responsible party, said party often ends up litigating the amount owed for years. The Passaic River in New Jersey was declared a Superfund site 40 years ago, and the EPA is still fighting with Occidental over how much it should pay for the cleanup.
Iarrapino thinks there’s one key difference in the proposed climate superfund program. At contaminated sites, there can be a lot of potential polluters and so it’s difficult to assign blame. The Vermont bill attaches liability directly to the act of extracting and refining fossil fuels for combustion. “You either did that or you didn't do that,” he said. When it comes to companies like Exxon and BP, “that is their whole reason for existing.” That doesn’t mean companies won’t use all the firepower they have to dispute the amount they owe, however.
It may seem unfair for a single state, especially one as small as Vermont, to win compensation first when the damages are global and unequally distributed. But Lockman of Columbia said if these bills are successful, fossil fuel companies may stop fighting liability entirely and instead push the federal government to take action so they can be held to a more consistent standard across the country.
When I first reached Iarrapino, he told me that just downstairs from his office, someone was sawing and hammering the walls because the first floor had been entirely underwater when Montpelier flooded last summer. Three businesses that were in the building are gone. A recent estimate puts the cost of state-wide damages from the storm at $600 million.
“At this point,” he said, “what else does a state like Vermont have to lose?”
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Berkeley-based Copper was selected to supply 10,000 stoves to the New York City Housing Authority.
Last year, New York City went shopping for 10,000 induction stoves so it could ditch gas in its public housing. Now it's ready to make a purchase.
The New York Power Authority and NYC Housing Authority have selected Copper, a Berkeley, California-based startup that was formerly known as Channing Street Copper Company, as the winner of their Induction Stove Challenge, Heatmap has learned. The agencies are planning to award the company a $32 million, seven-year contract to design, prototype, test, and install its stoves in apartments throughout the city.
As I wrote when I covered the launch of the contest in 2023, the goal is not just to improve the lives of NYC public housing residents by helping them avoid the toxic fumes of cooking with gas, but also to spur a larger market transformation that lowers the barriers to induction stoves for everyone.
These aren’t just any induction stoves. Manufacturers were challenged to design an appliance that’s compatible with a standard 120-volt outlet so that it doesn’t require an expensive electrical upgrade to install. Most products on the market require a 240-volt outlet.
The news of the winner was buried in the minutes of a NYPA Finance Committee meeting that took place in July, when Authority staff submitted a request to the committee to recommend that its Board of Trustees approve the award. The Trustees approved the award at a meeting on July 30.
It’s unclear whether the contest ultimately fostered much innovation. The meeting minutes say that only four companies submitted proposals. I’m aware of at least two startups — Copper and Impulse Labs — that were already designing induction stoves for 120-volt outlets prior to NYPA’s challenge. Both companies solve the issue with a similar solution — their stoves come with built-in batteries that can supply extra voltage as needed.
In response to a question about why NYPA selected Copper, a spokesperson pointed to the fact that the company has already designed, developed, and manufactured stoves with similar specifications to what the contest was calling for. “From the competitively procured proposal and interview, the company demonstrated their deep understanding of both residential electrical systems as well as battery equipped products,” they told me.
Still, the award has the potential to make this technology more accessible by bringing down the cost through economies of scale. Currently, Copper’s least expensive stove sells for $5,999; NYPA said the stove delivered for the program is expected to be below $3,000, but NYCHA is still negotiating the cost and other aspects of the product before fully awarding the contract. (Copper was not able to respond to questions about the award as it has not been officially announced yet.)
That price also doesn’t take into account the avoided cost of redoing the electrical work in the buildings. Ultimately the order could also be much more than 10,000 — NYPA has said that 12 other housing authorities representing more than 300,000 housing units have signed up to support the initiative. There’s also a good chance that the stoves will be eligible for at least a 30% tax credit.
Once the contract is fully awarded, the next step will be for Copper to produce a single unit for testing before moving on to the pilot stage, where it will produce and install 100 stoves. If the pilot is successful, the agencies will purchase at least 10,000 units.
The same agencies are in the pilot phase of a similar contest called Clean Heat For All, which aims to bring new heat pumps to market that can be installed in a window rather than requiring costly construction work. Last winter, they ran a pilot in two dozen NYCHA apartments with the winning units — models from the startup Gradient and veteran manufacturer Midea. NYPA reported this summer that the units “provided consistently comfortable temperatures throughout the pilot period, with residents reporting high levels of satisfaction,” and said it planned to study the tech’s cooling capabilities next.
From the national to the state to the local level, the state is about to hold some of the country’s most crucial elections.
In 2022, the Arizona Republic published a sentence many Democrats had dreamed of reading for decades: “Arizona,” the paper announced, “is a blue state.”
At the time, it felt true. In 2020, Joe Biden won the Grand Canyon State — only the second time a Democrat had done so since Arizona broke for Harry Truman in 1952 — and Democrat Mark Kelly defeated Republican Sen. Martha McSally in a special election to fill the late John McCain’s Senate seat, a victory that helped the Inflation Reduction Act get over the finish line. The 2022 midterm elections confirmed that the Democrats’ wins in the state hadn’t just been a one-time occurrence: Kelly successfully defended his seat, securing a full term; Katie Hobbs won the governorship; and Adrian Fontes beat a January 6 participant to become the secretary of state, Democrats all.
With the 2024 election still a little more than a week away, it’s too soon to tell whether the blue state proclamations of 2022 were premature. But Arizona hasn’t been looking terribly cerulean. In 2023, the Republican-held state legislature passed eight of 16 anti-environment bills introduced and stranded 22 pro-environment bills without committee hearings. Republican voter registration in the state has also swelled since 2016 as Democratic rolls stayed relatively stagnant, giving the GOP an edge in a place where 10,457 votes can make all the difference.
Arizona is just one state out of 50 (or 11 electoral votes out of 538, if you prefer), but it represents a curious microcosm of the high-stakes climate and energy elections happening all over the country this November. Or perhaps it is not so curious: Arizona is on the front lines of the climate-related impacts of droughts, longer and nastier heat waves, ozone pollution, and wildfires, while also being in a position to weigh the trade-offs of crucial clean energy developments like building new energy transmission, critical mineral mining, and utility-scale solar. “It’s like an incubator. There’s just so much happening here, it’s ready to burst,” Jane Conlin, a co-leader of the Tucson chapter of the Citizens' Climate Lobby, which has been engaging in get-out-the-vote efforts with the Environmental Voter Project, told me.
Aside from its electoral college allocations, the most consequential race in Arizona this cycle will be for outgoing Independent Senator Kyrsten Sinema’s seat. The state is currently leaning slightly toward Democratic Representative Ruben Gallego, who could help stem a total hemorrhaging of blue seats from the Senate — which, in turn, would have implications for the passage of any decarbonization legislation in the next administration.
Two U.S. House elections in Arizona could similarly help determine the balance of power on Capitol Hill come January. AZ-01 is the wealthiest congressional district in the state, in the northeastern corner of Phoenix’s Maricopa County, where a former E.R. doctor is trying to unseat a seven-term Republican incumbent in a battle that has centered on abortion access. (The district is also home to the Rio Verde Foothills, which made national headlines in 2022 when Scottsdale cut off its water supply due to drought-related shortages.)
But it’s the other race, in the sixth congressional district spanning the suburbs of Tucson, that looks more like a proxy battle between different climate ideologies. Kirsten Engel — who previously worked for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and serves as the co-director of the Environmental Law Program at the University of Arizona — is challenging Juan Ciscomani, a Trump-endorsed moderate conservative who has backed residential solar projects, promoted himself as an advocate for a “secure water future,”and, earlier this year, co-sponsored a bill seen as a first step toward a carbon border tax. (As his opponents quickly point out, he also voted against the IRA; Ciscomani has also been tied to a groundwater scandal involving a Saudi Arabian-owned alfalfa farm.)
Engel previously lost a tight election against Ciscomani in 2022, and has made abortion a centerpiece of her campaign, too. But she has also gone aggressively after the Republican for his alignment with the mining industry, including his support for a proposed open-pit copper mine that opponents say will pollute Tucson’s air and waterways; supporters, meanwhile, say it’s critical to create a domestic supply chain for the energy transition. The League of Conservation Voters, which identified the sixth congressional district election as one of its priority races, is running ads in the state playing up this pollution angle.
Engel herself has slammed the proposed mine, which would be built on public lands, as a “giveaway” to a foreign mining company, and touted the need to protect the region’s “spectacular scenic vistas and the tourism economy.” She has also sought to go toe-to-toe with Ciscomani on water conservation, though as Grist has reported, drought and water rights can be tricky for Arizona politicians to run on because voters don’t have a firm grasp of how the complicated policies work.
The future of climate policy at the regional and municipal levels in Arizona is also in play. Democrats could potentially flip the balance of power in the state House and Senate, each branch currently having just a one-seat Republican advantage, and restart movement on the slate of stalled pro-environmental bills. (The Democratic governor’s term runs through 2026.) “The state legislature in Arizona is so critical,” John Qua, the campaign manager of Lead Locally, told me. “Not only does building a democratic trifecta get the state closer to passing policy that tackles climate change in some of the ways we might more typically understand it — like moving towards clean energy — but it also makes it much likelier that the state legislature will pass water conservation policy.”
The 11 races are “all at a razor-thin margin,” Qua told me, though climate is unlikely to be the issue that tips the balance in any of them. That goes for just about any race in Arizona — except the state’s Corporation Commission, which Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo covered earlier this week. Currently, the ACC is operating with a four-to-one Republican majority, but with three Democrats, two Green party candidates, and three Republicans (including an incumbent) running to fill three seats, there’s a wide-open chance that candidates sympathetic to clean energy policy, including the state’s massive solar opportunity, could take control.
“Arizona could lead the world in solar power if politicians would only let it,” Nathaniel Stinnett, the founder and executive director of the Environmental Voter Project, told me. “But that isn’t going to happen unless the climate movement starts showing up in unstoppable numbers whenever there’s an election.”
Conlin, who co-leads the Tucson chapter of the Citizens’ Climate Lobby, has been working on the ground to reach the 230,000 potential first-time environmental voters that Stinnett and his team have identified in the state. (EVP numbers released earlier this week showed that those who vote based on climate issues were about 20% more likely to have submitted an early vote than the average voter.) During a recent folklife festival CCL volunteers attended, “I think about only 25% of people [we engaged with] were really aware of the Arizona Corporation Commission,” Conlin told me. But she’s excited nevertheless: This year, the ACC poll is on the front of Arizonans’ ballots, rather than the back, making it harder for even low-information voters to overlook.
The state is also a case study of how an elected body as small and seemingly insignificant as a school board can make a difference in the progress toward decarbonization. The Tucson Unified School District board of governors will vote next week on a climate action plan that would set a goal of reaching net-zero emissions by 2045. If successful, TUSD would be one of the first school districts in the nation to have implemented such a plan.
Arizona is not the only state in the country that, as Colin put it, feels “on this cusp of being able to reach out — not only to see a 50% cut in emissions but 100%. It’s doable, it’s within reach.” Pennsylvania and Michigan voters will also have opportunities to elect politicians who will advance climate legislation, and voters in Washington, California, and New York can defend their states’ progress. But it’s Arizona where the stakes seem especially immediate — and high. “It’s supposed to be 96 [degrees Fahrenheit] here today,” Conlin marveled when we spoke this week, at the end of October.
I could hear the weariness in the voices of the organizers I spoke to after a long, hard-fought season; candidates are set to make their final pitches to voters next week. Early-voting ballots are already in the mail or in hand. The CCL has just one final day of canvassing planned, on November 2. The polls will close three days later, at 7 p.m. local time, and then the count will begin.
Tesla got to thump its chest this week. In a Wednesday earnings call with investors, CEO Elon Musk and company shared better-than-expected sales and financial numbers for the third quarter of 2024. That good news caused the electric vehicle-maker’s stock to rebound following what had been a disappointing sales year so far, with the slump compounded by a tepid reaction to the “We, Robot” event earlier in October, when Tesla debuted its autonomous Cybercab.
A few important factors underlie Tesla’s big rebound: Manufacturing costs fell, the refreshed Model 3 is doing well, and the Cybertruck has begun to sell in big enough numbers to help the company’s bottom line. Then there was this line from Musk’s presentation: “Preparations remain underway for our offering of new vehicles – including more affordable models – which we will begin launching in the first half of 2025.”
You might think that sentence suggests the long-rumored $25,000 Tesla is, at last, right around the corner. But when pressed by an investor whether the company would indeed build a "$25,000 non-robotaxi regular car model," Musk called the idea “pointless.” "It would be silly. It would be completely at odds with what we believe," he continued, saying that it’s “blindingly obvious” autonomy is the future.
It’s beginning to look like the idea of a little human-driven Tesla that costs as much as a Toyota Corolla will forever be a fantasy. One could argue, though, it has already done its job. The promise of the “Model 2,” perpetually dangled in front of the world as something just a few years away, enticed many people — including, crucially, investors — to believe Musk would extend his dominance of the EV market and truly conquer the car industry by offering an entry-level electric car for the masses. But if that ever was the plan, it isn’t anymore.
Tesla has always played fast and loose with deadlines and promises. It finally launched the Model 3 after years of promising the $35,000 Tesla, though obtaining the base version of the car at that price was a major challenge. In fact, most Model 3s that sold cost well into the $40,000s, if not more. The cheapest one you can order today starts at $43,000 before incentives.
The even smaller Tesla has been the topic of long-running rumors, buoyed by signals from the mothership. In 2022, Musk simply had “too much on his plate” to work on the car. In 2023, when Tesla finally began to sell a new vehicle, it was not a cheap compact but the Cybertruck. Musk then reportedly tabled the cheap Tesla indefinitely.
That didn’t stop the optimism. In the leadup to this week’s earnings call, one major analyst said it was the potential $25,000 EV, not the Cybercab or any of Tesla’s future-looking autonomous projects, that would drive the company’s success (and stock price) in the short term. After all, an EV with that MSRP could have a true cost under $20,000 after tax credits. At that point, it would undercut even entry-level gas cars in the U.S.
During the call, while scoffing at the idea of a small Tesla for carbon-based drivers, Musk pointed out that the Cybercab is technically a $25,000 car after tax breaks (though, this is the same man who, while throwing his weight behind the Trump campaign, has said that ending the EV tax credit would benefit Tesla). It’s just one that happens to have no steering wheel and no pedals. Teslaraticoncluded that the company’s promise of more affordable cars to come in the beginning of next year refers to lowering the prices of Tesla’s current offerings, not any plans to debut something new and different.
The EV market has changed a lot since the dawn of this decade, when Tesla rolled out the Model Y and cemented its grip on the industry. The rise of the super-cheap Chinese EV in particular spooked not only Western governments, but also American car companies that had dreams of competing for the lower end of the market. Combine that with Musk’s insistence that Tesla remain a lean, innovative firm rather than maturing into a boring EV-maker and you arrive at this point, with Musk going all in on trying to win the race for the true self-driving car instead of diversifying the kinds of vehicles it’s actually selling today.
History could prove him right. Still, that’s cold comfort for anyone who’d been hoping for a small, cheap EV they could drive themselves. It’s certainly possible to envision the Cybercab adapted for human drivers, but Musk is adamant that won’t happen. So an affordable, normal EV will have to come from elsewhere.
And it might. Despite gloomy headlines about a supposed slump, EV sales in America are steadily rising. At the less expensive end of the market, Chevy has begun selling the base-level version of the Equinox EV at the promised $35,000, which could fall under $30,000 with tax breaks. The Chevy Bolt should be even cheaper than that when it returns for the 2026 model year. Detroit has a whole lot to figure out in the coming years about how to build electric vehicles profitably, but, at the very least, the legacy carmakers might actually offer you an affordable EV — with a steering wheel.