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The agenda may change, but ultimately, they’re all about who owes what to whom.
Before it even began, the 29th annual United Nations climate conference, or COP29, was deemed the “Finance COP.” While the name is fitting, it’s also a little absurd.
It’s called the Finance COP because the main item on the agenda at this year’s conference, held in Baku, Azerbaijan, is to set a new annual goal for the amount of money richer countries should deliver to poorer countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects. The typically jargon-y name for this task, which the Paris Agreement says must be completed by 2025, is a “New Collective Quantified Goal,” or NCQG for climate finance.
As of this writing, negotiators are still hashing out a final dollar figure, as well as ancillary details like how much of the money should come in the form of grants versus loans versus private investment. It wasn’t until Friday, as the conference was supposed to be wrapping up, that leadership even put a number on the table. That initial number was $250 billion, a fraction of the $1 trillion in public finance that many developing countries have called for. Their reactions were unsurprisingly weary.
“It is incomprehensible that year after year we bring our stories of climate impacts to these meetings and receive only sympathy and no real action from wealthy nations,” Tina Stege, the Marshall Islands Climate Envoy said in a statement. “We are not here to tell stories. We are here to save our communities.”
That “year after year” bit is why it’s somewhat misleading to call this the Finance COP — that is, because every COP is about finance. I don’t mean that in a vague, every-climate-negotiation-is-really-about-money, way. I mean literally, every year, the issue of how much money developed countries should cough up, as well as what the money should be used for and what form it should be in, is intrinsic to the negotiations.
Three years ago in Scotland, at issue was the developed world’s failure to meet an earlier climate finance goal — a promise to deliver $100 billion to developing countries by 2020. It was also that year that developing countries finally got their proposal to create a new “loss and damage” fund to help the most vulnerable countries redress the destruction climate change has already caused, onto the agenda. The next two COPs, in Egypt and the United Arab Emirates, were largely focused on the mechanics of setting up this fund and getting more countries to contribute to it.
The annual gathering is like a carousel delegates clamber onto each November. They go round and round on the same handful of issues, rehashing the same arguments. Are countries’ current pledges ambitious enough? Can they up the ante? Can they get more financial assistance to do so? Can they get any closer to agreeing to stop using fossil fuels? Is there too much emphasis on stopping climate change, and not enough on adapting to it? Should China be held accountable to do more? Permeating all of these questions is the big one: What do countries like the U.S., which have done the most to cause climate change, owe the low-lying nations and emerging economies who have done almost nothing to contribute to the crisis but are most exposed to its effects?
Some years one or another issue is higher up on the agenda. By design, the conference follows a pattern of pledge and review. Countries make pledges one year, on finance or emission reductions or adaptation, review those pledges the following year, and then, ideally, get shamed into ratcheting them up the next year. In practice, this ends up playing out via meticulous fights over semantics, like whether countries “should” or “shall” do more. Though the climate plans have not yet been aggressive enough to cap warming below 2 degrees Celsius, let alone to 1.5 degrees, and the financial commitments have not yet risen to the true scale of the costs, each year the delegates do end up staggering off their horses in the final hour having made bigger, bolder promises.
I don’t point this out to detract from the importance of setting a new target for climate finance. While historically most countries have fallen short on even their inadequate promises, there will at least be a number on paper pushing them in an upward direction. But the idea that finance was more important at this conference than it has been at any other or will be next year is nothing more than a narrative device.
This year’s emphasis on finance is one of many weirdnesses that arise from the militantly procedural nature of these talks. Another example is the main event at last year’s conference, the “Global Stocktake,” a formal assessment of collective progress toward achieving the goals of the Paris Agreement. Did countries really need to perform this exercise to conclude they were lagging, when dozens of scientific reports are published each year on the topic? Was such a stocktake really necessary to get countries to agree that tackling climate change requires “transitioning away from fossil fuels,” a seemingly obvious conclusion the conference only formally acknowledged for the first time last year?
Perhaps. This year, a group of countries led by Saudi Arabia are trying to take back those essential five words, refusing to allow them to be reiterated in the conference’s final text. The outcome of each COP is always more a negotiation of political will than an honest, science-based compromise, and it may be useful for the conferences to cling to procedure and formality in an effort to rise above the ever-shifting geopolitical landscape.
Still, some think the procedures are ripe for change. A group of prominent global leaders and climate researchers published an open letter last week calling for reforms to the conference, arguing that the current structure “simply cannot deliver the change at exponential speed and scale, which is essential to ensure a safe climate landing for humanity.” They suggested prohibiting countries that do not agree with the need to move away from fossil fuels from holding the COP presidency, shifting from annual negotiations with big proclamations to more regular meetings focused on concrete actions, and creating a formal scientific advisory body to “amplify the voice of authoritative science.”
As my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote last year, the annual conference is “a pseudo-event, a spectacle that exists partially to be covered in the press.” The Paris Agreement does not govern by fiat but by an iterative process of “naming and shaming,” which, as Meyer wrote, “implies a press to name and a public sphere where the shaming can happen.”
But the banal, Groundhog Day nature of the annual climate talks make it difficult to keep the devastating stakes, which are ever rising, in the foreground. It is the leaders representing those most at risk, such as Cedric Schuster, minister of the Alliance of Small Island States, who repeatedly, desperately, try to keep those stakes in sight.
“After this COP29 ends, we cannot just sail off into the sunset,” Schuster said in a statement on Saturday, as the negotiations became increasingly tense. “We are literally sinking. Understand this — I am not exaggerating when I say our islands are sinking! How can you expect us to go back to the women, men, and children of our countries with a poor deal which will surely plunge them into further peril?”
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A conversation with VDE Americas CEO Brian Grenko.
This week’s Q&A is about hail. Last week, we explained how and why hail storm damage in Texas may have helped galvanize opposition to renewable energy there. So I decided to reach out to Brian Grenko, CEO of renewables engineering advisory firm VDE Americas, to talk about how developers can make sure their projects are not only resistant to hail but also prevent that sort of pushback.
The following conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Hiya Brian. So why’d you get into the hail issue?
Obviously solar panels are made with glass that can allow the sunlight to come through. People have to remember that when you install a project, you’re financing it for 35 to 40 years. While the odds of you getting significant hail in California or Arizona are low, it happens a lot throughout the country. And if you think about some of these large projects, they may be in the middle of nowhere, but they are taking hundreds if not thousands of acres of land in some cases. So the chances of them encountering large hail over that lifespan is pretty significant.
We partnered with one of the country’s foremost experts on hail and developed a really interesting technology that can digest radar data and tell folks if they’re developing a project what the [likelihood] will be if there’s significant hail.
Solar panels can withstand one-inch hail – a golfball size – but once you get over two inches, that’s when hail starts breaking solar panels. So it’s important to understand, first and foremost, if you’re developing a project, you need to know the frequency of those events. Once you know that, you need to start thinking about how to design a system to mitigate that risk.
The government agencies that look over land use, how do they handle this particular issue? Are there regulations in place to deal with hail risk?
The regulatory aspects still to consider are about land use. There are authorities with jurisdiction at the federal, state, and local level. Usually, it starts with the local level and with a use permit – a conditional use permit. The developer goes in front of the township or the city or the county, whoever has jurisdiction of wherever the property is going to go. That’s where it gets political.
To answer your question about hail, I don’t know if any of the [authority having jurisdictions] really care about hail. There are folks out there that don’t like solar because it’s an eyesore. I respect that – I don’t agree with that, per se, but I understand and appreciate it. There’s folks with an agenda that just don’t want solar.
So okay, how can developers approach hail risk in a way that makes communities more comfortable?
The bad news is that solar panels use a lot of glass. They take up a lot of land. If you have hail dropping from the sky, that’s a risk.
The good news is that you can design a system to be resilient to that. Even in places like Texas, where you get large hail, preparing can mean the difference between a project that is destroyed and a project that isn’t. We did a case study about a project in the East Texas area called Fighting Jays that had catastrophic damage. We’re very familiar with the area, we work with a lot of clients, and we found three other projects within a five-mile radius that all had minimal damage. That simple decision [to be ready for when storms hit] can make the complete difference.
And more of the week’s big fights around renewable energy.
1. Long Island, New York – We saw the face of the resistance to the war on renewable energy in the Big Apple this week, as protestors rallied in support of offshore wind for a change.
2. Elsewhere on Long Island – The city of Glen Cove is on the verge of being the next New York City-area community with a battery storage ban, discussing this week whether to ban BESS for at least one year amid fire fears.
3. Garrett County, Maryland – Fight readers tell me they’d like to hear a piece of good news for once, so here’s this: A 300-megawatt solar project proposed by REV Solar in rural Maryland appears to be moving forward without a hitch.
4. Stark County, Ohio – The Ohio Public Siting Board rejected Samsung C&T’s Stark Solar project, citing “consistent opposition to the project from each of the local government entities and their impacted constituents.”
5. Ingham County, Michigan – GOP lawmakers in the Michigan State Capitol are advancing legislation to undo the state’s permitting primacy law, which allows developers to evade municipalities that deny projects on unreasonable grounds. It’s unlikely the legislation will become law.
6. Churchill County, Nevada – Commissioners have upheld the special use permit for the Redwood Materials battery storage project we told you about last week.
Long Islanders, meanwhile, are showing up in support of offshore wind, and more in this week’s edition of The Fight.
Local renewables restrictions are on the rise in the Hawkeye State – and it might have something to do with carbon pipelines.
Iowa’s known as a renewables growth area, producing more wind energy than any other state and offering ample acreage for utility-scale solar development. This has happened despite the fact that Iowa, like Ohio, is home to many large agricultural facilities – a trait that has often fomented conflict over specific projects. Iowa has defied this logic in part because the state was very early to renewables, enacting a state portfolio standard in 1983, signed into law by a Republican governor.
But something else is now on the rise: Counties are passing anti-renewables moratoria and ordinances restricting solar and wind energy development. We analyzed Heatmap Pro data on local laws and found a rise in local restrictions starting in 2021, leading to nearly 20 of the state’s 99 counties – about one fifth – having some form of restrictive ordinance on solar, wind or battery storage.
What is sparking this hostility? Some of it might be counties following the partisan trend, as renewable energy has struggled in hyper-conservative spots in the U.S. But it may also have to do with an outsized focus on land use rights and energy development that emerged from the conflict over carbon pipelines, which has intensified opposition to any usage of eminent domain for energy development.
The central node of this tension is the Summit Carbon Solutions CO2 pipeline. As we explained in a previous edition of The Fight, the carbon transportation network would cross five states, and has galvanized rural opposition against it. Last November, I predicted the Summit pipeline would have an easier time under Trump because of his circle’s support for oil and gas, as well as the placement of former North Dakota Governor Doug Burgum as interior secretary, as Burgum was a major Summit supporter.
Admittedly, this prediction has turned out to be incorrect – but it had nothing to do with Trump. Instead, Summit is now stalled because grassroots opposition to the pipeline quickly mobilized to pressure regulators in states the pipeline is proposed to traverse. They’re aiming to deny the company permits and lobbying state legislatures to pass bills banning the use of eminent domain for carbon pipelines. One of those states is South Dakota, where the governor last month signed an eminent domain ban for CO2 pipelines. On Thursday, South Dakota regulators denied key permits for the pipeline for the third time in a row.
Another place where the Summit opposition is working furiously: Iowa, where opposition to the CO2 pipeline network is so intense that it became an issue in the 2020 presidential primary. Regulators in the state have been more willing to greenlight permits for the project, but grassroots activists have pressured many counties into some form of opposition.
The same counties with CO2 pipeline moratoria have enacted bans or land use restrictions on developing various forms of renewables, too. Like Kossuth County, which passed a resolution decrying the use of eminent domain to construct the Summit pipeline – and then three months later enacted a moratorium on utility-scale solar.
I asked Jessica Manzour, a conservation program associate with Sierra Club fighting the Summit pipeline, about this phenomenon earlier this week. She told me that some counties are opposing CO2 pipelines and then suddenly tacking on or pivoting to renewables next. In other cases, counties with a burgeoning opposition to renewables take up the pipeline cause, too. In either case, this general frustration with energy companies developing large plots of land is kicking up dust in places that previously may have had a much lower opposition risk.
“We painted a roadmap with this Summit fight,” said Jess Manzour, a campaigner with Sierra Club involved in organizing opposition to the pipeline at the grassroots level, who said zealous anti-renewables activists and officials are in some cases lumping these items together under a broad umbrella. ”I don’t know if it’s the people pushing for these ordinances, rather than people taking advantage of the situation.”