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The imminent closure of Duke University’s herbarium sparked an outcry in the natural sciences community. But the loss to climate science could be even worse.
Kathleen Pryer did not watch March Madness this year.
That isn’t unusual in and of itself — Pryer describes herself as “not a basketball person,” though that might still raise a few eyebrows this time of year at Duke University, her place of employment. But the professor of biology has been a bit distracted lately. For the past few months, she’s been on defense, fending off a loss of her own: the pending closure of the school’s herbarium.
A herbarium (or plural, herbaria) is a collection of preserved plants, typically dried and mounted on sheets of rigid paper. The oldest existing collection in the world, the Gherardo Cibo herbarium in Rome, dates back to the mid 1500s; many U.S. collections are well over a century old. Browsing digitized herbaria online, one can easily get sucked in by their unintended whimsy; though the preserved plants are scientific specimens, traditionally collected by botanists to be used in the study of taxonomy during Western biology’s golden age of naming things, the pages remind me more of the pale, beautiful botanical illustrations in my childhood copy of Thumbelina.
Duke’s herbarium turns 103 this year and contains 825,000 specimens, making it one of the largest collections in the country. But back in mid-February, Susan Alberts, Duke’s dean of natural sciences, sent an email to Pryer, who curates the herbarium, and four other associated faculty members to inform them that “it’s in the best interests of both Duke and the herbarium to find a new home or homes for these collections.”
Though there had long been rumblings about the future of Duke’s herbarium — calls for “strategic plans,” hand-wringing about funds, worry about hiring new staff — the news came as both a shock and a slap in the face to the faculty, chief among them Pryer. “It’s some kind of little stinky plot,” she told me, adding, “I didn’t just roll over when it happened. I reached out to absolutely everybody I could think of.”
The news of Duke’s herbarium closure ricocheted through the tight-knit natural sciences community. Mason Heberling, an associate curator in the Section of Botany at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, told me it should be a “wake-up call” for other researchers. The Duke herbarium is prestigious and hardly a “languishing collection,” he explained; researchers and faculty can easily slip into taking their herbaria for granted. “I’ve realized now that a huge part of my job as a curator will need to be explaining why these collections are important,” he said.
Swiftly, botanists and curators came to Duke’s defense. Opinion pieces and quotes decrying Duke’s decision appeared in the pages of The New York Times and Science. A petition went up on Change.org urging the school to reconsider its decision. Online fora burbled with discontent. “This may be the single worst thing to ever happen to Southeastern botany,” one post on Reddit read, with 64 additional comments piling on the administration for being “profit-obsessed business assholes.” “They could probably fund the entire thing with the salary of one head [basketball] coach,” grumbled another commenter.
The criticism of Duke’s decision is rooted in both a romantic nostalgia about herbaria — the same way you might feel fondly about hand-painted globes or cabinets of curiosities — and a very modern sense of scientific urgency. Researchers have only recently started leveraging the collections as invaluable pieces of data in the greater picture of climate change. “Herbaria are, in many ways, one of our best places to understand nature across space, time, and species,” Charles Davis, the curator of vascular plants at the nation’s largest private herbaria, at Harvard University, told me. “These collections are snapshots of events and occurrences in space and time that you just can’t easily replicate anywhere else. In fact, I would argue it’s impossible.”
Think of it this way: Worldwide, there are about 3,600 herbaria located in 193 different countries that collectively hold about 400 million specimens. Botanists estimate as much as half of the planet’s undiscovered flora could be found in herbaria backlogs. Barbara Thiers, the editor of the Index Herbariorum, a digital guide to the world’s collections, told me that when she was the director of the New York Botanical Garden Herbarium, “we had a huge room filled with unidentified species; I think there were 35,000 or 40,000 specimens in there.” That wasn’t for lack of effort — Thiers said that for many of the plant groups, there simply aren’t any working experts or published literature for curators to consult.
Because the climate is changing so fast, many plants in herbaria will go extinct before they’re formally discovered and named, a process known as a “dark extinction.” “It’s a very sobering feeling to touch the leaves of a tree that doesn’t exist anymore,” Erin Zimmerman, an evolutionary biologist and author of the forthcoming book Unrooted: Botany, Motherhood, and the Fight to Save an Old Science, told me, recalling coming across such a specimen in an herbarium while doing her own research. She likened herbaria to a library, but in her description I also heard echoes of a church: “The specimens are sometimes very old; you have to be very gentle with them, which just adds to the sense of holding something precious,” she went on.
Dwindling biodiversity is only the most obvious way herbaria are critical to 21st-century science. “Phenology, whether it’s when plants flower or when birds migrate, is one of the most important signals of climate change response,” Davis, the Harvard curator, said. Still, our long-term datasets aren’t very robust; research on how plants are changing with warming climates typically dates back only 25 to 30 years, tends to concentrate on the U.S. and Western Europe, and centers on easily observable phenomena, like the leafing out of woody trees. Researchers can turn to herbaria for centuries-old records of where certain plants grew and when they flowered, helping to bridge gaps in our understanding.
Heberling, of the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, tracks environmental changes in his research, but he didn’t start using herbaria until well after he’d obtained his Ph.D. Only then did he realize “herbarium specimens are incredible archives of the past,” he told me.
“You can look at the tiny pores, the stomata, on the leaves” of a plant in a herbarium and “see how that has changed over time with increased carbon dioxide,” Heberling said. Scientists have even used this method to create CO2 records.
Admittedly, climate science is still a relatively cutting-edge use case for the herbarium; according to Davis’ research, “global change biology” remains one of the least popular ways to leverage herbaria, well behind “taxonomic monographs” and “species distributions” that still dominate the field. Still, “there are things that, five to 10 years ago, I’d never even imagined we’d be doing today with herbarium specimens,” he told me.
As a result, Duke’s herbarium closure has made some question the university’s commitment to climate research — something that Alberts, the school’s natural sciences dean, emphatically refuted when I raised the question with her. She told me that a rough search revealed that only 23 of the 2,000 papers published by Duke researchers over the past few decades on climate change contained the word “herbarium” anywhere in them. “With my knowledge about all of the climate change research that’s been going on at Duke, the herbarium is not really central to whether or not Duke studies climate change,” she said.
For her part, Pryer has bristled at the administration’s insinuations that the herbarium is of limited use to students and faculty on campus. “You don’t measure a collection by who uses it,” she told me. “As I’ve been naughty enough to say, it’s not a toilet. People outside — the global community — uses it. That’s how you measure its value; things like 90 refereed publications a year [across all disciplines] cite the Duke collections.” Pryer can quickly tick off the climate projects that have come through the herbarium’s halls, including her recent supervision of a local high schooler’s research paper that found the pink lady’s slipper is flowering in the area 17 days earlier than it used to.
Duke is “not an appropriate home for a herbarium that is this large and valuable” for a number of reasons, according to Alberts, ranging from the need to hire new faculty to manage it (Pryer and several of her colleagues are approaching retirement) to the collection’s current building needing renovations. “I have had people email me saying, ‘I know you have enough money, I know you have the facilities.’ I’m like, ‘I’m sorry, you should tell me who you’re talking to, because we don’t,’” Alberts said. She added that she plans to be personally involved in finding the right home for Duke’s herbarium over the next several years.
After all, it’s not like the potential untapped climate records in the Duke collection are being destroyed (though both Pryer and Davis told me they’ve had deans wonder aloud if they could be, since many herbaria are now digitized). The goal is only to move the collection somewhere where it might be better utilized.
Thiers, though, said this is exactly what makes the natural science community so alarmed. As the collection is split up, ideally, the Index Herbariorum would record where Duke’s specimens get sent so scientists can still find them. But when new collections absorb the materials, curators will weed out duplicates, sending unneeded pages elsewhere — at which point specimens can fall between the cracks. “Before you know it, individual specimens will be lost,” Thiers said. “I can almost guarantee that as these secondary moves happen, people will not keep up with the database records.”
There is also a worst-case scenario everyone seemed nervous to mention: that Duke’s collection, in whole or in part, will end up in storage somewhere. Herbarium specimens are extremely susceptible to insect damage and must be kept in expensive, climate-controlled cabinets and rooms. “If they’re putting boxes in a storage storeroom someplace, they’ll be worthless in no time,” Thiers warned. The unidentified plants and uncollected climate data — all of it could be lost. And the cruelest part? Scientists wouldn’t even know what they are losing; it’s a dark extinction of a dark extinction.
When I spoke with Alberts, she said there were no updates on the administration’s plans for the herbarium. She expressed sympathy, though, for the faculty who oppose the administration’s decision. The herbarium “is their life’s work, and it’s important that they have a voice in this process,” she said.
Pryer is determined to keep fighting, even if this isn’t exactly how she’d pictured spending her golden years at Duke. “It’s having an impact on my research and on my health,” she told me. “It’s been pretty unrelenting. I’m anxious for something to resolve.”
She looked tired. There was a faculty meeting later in the day, and she hoped she’d be able to get more clarity about the administration’s decision then. “I don’t want this to go on forever,” she said. “But I also don’t want there to be a decision that makes Duke look insane.”
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House Republicans have bet that nothing bad will happen to America’s economic position or energy supply. The evidence suggests that’s a big risk.
When President Barack Obama signed the Budget Control Act in August of 2011, he did not do so happily. The bill averted the debt ceiling crisis that had threatened to derail his presidency, but it did so at a high cost: It forced Congress either to agree to big near-term deficit cuts, or to accept strict spending limits over the years to come.
It was, as Bloomberg commentator Conor Sen put it this week, the wrong bill for the wrong moment. It suppressed federal spending as America climbed out of the Great Recession, making the early 2010s economic recovery longer than it would have been otherwise. When Trump came into office, he ended the automatic spending limits — and helped to usher in the best labor market that America has seen since the 1990s.
On Thursday, the Republican majority in the House of Representatives passed their megabill — which is dubbed, for now, the “One Big, Beautiful Bill Act” — through the reconciliation process. They did so happily. But much like Obama’s sequestration, this bill is the wrong one for the wrong moment. It would add $3.3 trillion to the federal deficit over the next 10 years. The bill’s next stop is the Senate, where it could change significantly. But if this bill is enacted, it will jack up America’s energy and environmental risks — for relatively little benefit.
It has become somewhat passé for advocates to talk about climate change, as The New York Times observed this week. “We’re no longer talking about the environment,” Chad Farrell, the founder of Encore Renewable Energy, told the paper. “We’re talking dollars and cents.”
Maybe that’s because saying that something “is bad for the climate” only makes it a more appealing target for national Republicans at the moment, who are still reveling in the frisson of their post-Trump victory. But one day the environment will matter again to Americans — and this bill would, in fact, hurt the environment. It will mark a new chapter in American politics: Once, this country had a comprehensive climate law on the books. Then Trump and Republicans junked it.
The Republican megabill will make climate change worse. Within a year or two, the U.S. will be pumping out half a gigaton more carbon pollution per year than it would in a world where the IRA remains on the books, according to energy modelers at Princeton University. Within a decade, it will raise American carbon pollution by a gigaton each year. That is a significant increase. For comparison, the United States is responsible for about 5.2 gigatons of greenhouse gas pollution each year. No matter what happens, American emissions are likely to fall somewhat between now and 2035 — but, still, we are talking about adding at least an extra year’s worth of emissions over the next decade. (Full disclosure: I co-host a podcast, Shift Key, with Jesse Jenkins, the lead author of that Princeton study.)
What does America get for this increase in air pollution? After all, it’s possible to imagine situations where such a surge could bring economic benefits. In this case, though, we don’t get very much at all. Repealing the tax credits will slash $1 trillion from GDP over the next decade, according to the nonpartisan group Energy Innovation. Texas will be particularly hard hit — it could lose up to $100 billion in energy investment. Across the country, household energy costs will rise 2% to 7% by 2035, on top of any normal market-driven volatility, according to the energy research firm the Rhodium Group. The country will become more reliant on foreign oil imports, yet domestic oil production will budge up by less than 1%.
In other words, in exchange for more pollution, Americans will get less economic growth but higher energy costs. The country’s capital stock will be smaller than it would be otherwise, and Americans will work longer hours, according to the Tax Foundation.
But this numbers-driven approach actually understates the risk of repealing the IRA’s tax credits. The House megabill raises two big risks to the economy, as I see it — risks that are moresignificant than the result of any one energy or economic model.
The first is that this bill — its policy changes and its fiscal impact — will represent a double hit to the capacity of America’s energy system. The Inflation Reduction Act’s energy tax credits were designed to lower pollution and reduce energy costs by bringing more zero-carbon electricity supply onto the U.S. power grid. The law didn’t discriminate about what kind of energy it encouraged — it could be solar, geothermal, or nuclear — as long as it met certain emissions thresholds.
This turned out to be an accidentally well-timed intervention in the U.S. energy supply. The advent of artificial intelligence and a spurt of factory building has meant that, in the past few years, U.S. electricity demand has begun to rise for the first time since the 1990s. At the same time, the country’s ability to build new natural gas plants has come under increasing strain. The IRA’s energy tax credits have helped make this situation slightly less harrowing by providing more incentives to boost electricity supply.
Republicans are now trying to remove these tax bonuses in order to finance tax cuts for high-earning households. But removing the IRA alone won’t pay for the tax credits, so they will also have to borrow trillions of dollars. This is already straining bond markets, driving up interest rates for Americans. Indeed, a U.S. Treasury auction earlier this week saw weak demand for $16 billion in bonds, driving stocks and the dollar down while spiking treasury yields.
Higher interest rates will make it more expensive to build any kind of new power plant. At a moment of maximum stress on the grid, the U.S. is going to pull away tax bonuses for new electricity supply and make it more expensive to do any kind of investment in the power system. This will hit wind, solar, and batteries hard; because renewables don’t have to pay for fuel, their cost variability is largely driven by financing. But higher interest rates will also make it harder to build new natural gas plants. Trump’s trade barriers and tariff chaos will further drive up the cost of new energy investment.
Republicans aren’t totally oblivious to this hazard. The House Natural Resource Committee’s permitting reform proposal could reduce some costs of new energy development and encourage greater power capacity — assuming, that is, that the proposal survives the Senate’s byzantine reconciliation rules. But even then, significant risk exists for runaway energy cost chaos. Over the next three years, America’s liquified natural gas export capacity is set to more than double. Trump officials have assumed that America will simply be able to drill for more natural gas to offset a rise in exports, but what if higher interest rates and tariff charges forbid a rise in capacity? A power price shock is not off the table.
So that’s risk No. 1. The second risk is arguably of greater strategic import. As part of their megabill, House Republicans have stripped virtually every demand-side subsidy for electric vehicles from the bill, including a $7,500 tax credit for personal EV purchases. At the same time, Senate Republicans and the Trump administration have gutted state and federal rules meant to encourage electric vehicle sales.
Republicans have kept, for now, some of the supply-side subsidies for manufacturing EVs and batteries. But without the paired demand-side incentives, American EV sales will fall. (The Princeton energy team projects an up to 40% decline in EV sales nationwide.) This will reduce the economic rationale for much of the current buildout in electric vehicle manufacturing and capacity happening across the country — it could potentially put every new EV and battery factory meant to come online after this year out of the money.
This will weaken the country’s economic competitiveness. Batteries are a strategic energy technology, and they will undergird many of the most important general and military technologies of the next several decades. (If you can make an EV, you can make an autonomous drone.) The Trump administration has realized that the United States and its allies need a durable mineral supply chain that can at least parallel China’s. But they seem unwilling to help any of the industries that will actually usethose minerals.
Does this mean that Republicans will kill America’s electric vehicle industry? Not necessarily. But they will dent its growth, strength, and expansion. They will make it weaker and more vulnerable to external interference. And they will increase the risks that the United States simply gives up on ever understanding battery technology and doubles down on internal combustion vehicles — a technology that, like coal-powered naval ships, is destined to lose.
It is, in other words, risky. But that is par for the course for this bill. It is risky to make the power grid so exposed to natural gas price volatility. It is risky to jack up the federal deficit during peacetime for so little gain. It is risky to cede so much demand for U.S.-sourced critical minerals. It is risky to raise interest rates in an era of higher trade barriers, uncertain supply shocks, and geopolitical instability.
This is what worries me most about the Republican megabill: It takes America’s flawed but fixable energy policy and replaces it with, well, a longshot parlay bet that nothing particularly bad will happen anytime soon. Will the Senate take such a bet? Now we find out.
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to correct the units in the sixth paragraph from megatons to gigatons.
And more of the week’s top conflicts around renewable energy
1. Worcester County, Massachusetts – The town of Oakham is piping mad about battery energy storage.
2. Worcester County, Maryland – A different drama is going down in a different Worcester County on Maryland’s eastern shore, where fishing communities are rejecting financial compensation from U.S. Wind tied to MarWin, its offshore project.
3. Lackawanna County, Pennsylvania – A Pivot Energy solar project is moving ahead with getting its conditional use permit in the small town of Ransom, but is dealing with considerable consternation from residents next door.
4. Cumberland County, North Carolina – It’s hard out here for a 5-megawatt solar project, apparently.
5. Barren County, Kentucky – Remember the Geenex solar project getting in the fight with a National Park? The county now formally has a restrictive ordinance on solar… that will allow projects to move through permitting.
6. Stark County, Ohio – Stark Solar is no more, thanks to the Ohio Public Siting Board.
7. Cheboygan County, Michigan – A large EDP Renewables solar project called the Northern Waters Solar Park is entering the community relations phase and – stop me if you’ve heard this before – it’s getting grumbles from locals.
8. Adams County, Illinois – A Summit Ridge Energy solar project located near the proposal in the town of Ursa we’ve been covering is moving forward without needing to pay the city taxes, due to the project being just outside city limits.
9. Cottonwood County, Minnesota – National Grid Renewables has paused work on the Plum Creek wind farm despite having received key permits to build, a sign that economic headwinds may be more powerful than your average NIMBY these days.
10. Oklahoma County, Oklahoma – Turns out you can’t kill wind in Oklahoma that easily.
11. Washoe County, Nevada – Trump’s Bureau of Land Management has opened another solar project in the desert up for public comment.
12. Shasta County, California – The California Energy Commission this week held a public hearing on the ConnectGen Fountain Wind project, which we previously told you already has gotten a negative reaction from the panel’s staff.
A conversation with Heather Cooper, a tax attorney at McDermott Will & Emery, about the construction rules in the tax bill.
This week I had the privilege of speaking with Heather Cooper, a tax attorney at McDermott Will & Emery who is consulting with renewables developers on how to handle the likelihood of an Inflation Reduction Act repeal in Congress. As you are probably well aware, the legislation that passed the House earlier this week would all but demolish the IRA’s electricity investment and production tax credits that have supercharged solar and wind development in the U.S., including a sharp cut-off for qualifying that requires beginning construction by a date shortly after the bill’s enactment.
I wanted to talk to Heather about whether there was any way for developers to creatively move forward and qualify for the construction aspect of the credits’ design. Here’s an abridged version of our conversation, which happened shortly after the legislation passed the House Thursday morning.
How would this repeal affect projects that are already in the pipeline?
Projects in the pipeline are likely going to be safe harbored or grandfathered from these repeals, assuming they’ve gone far enough into their development to meet certain tax rules.
For projects that are less far along in the pipeline and haven’t had any outlays or expenditures yet, those developers right now are scrambling and I’ve gotten probably about 100 emails from my clients today asking me questions about what they can do to establish construction has begun on their project.
If they don’t satisfy those construction rules under the tax bill, they will be completely ineligible for the energy generating credits — the investment tax credit and production tax credit. A pretty significant impact.
What are the questions your clients are asking you?
I’m being asked how these credits are being repealed, if there’s any grandfathering, and how it’s impacting transferability. Also, they’re asking if these rules are tied to construction or placing in service or tax years generally. But also, it seems like people are asking what folks need to do to technically begin construction.
How much will this repeal affect fights between developers and opposition? I spoke to an attorney who told me this repeal could empower NIMBYs, for example.
I don’t know if it empowers them as much as NIMBYs will have less to worry about. If these projects are no longer economical, if these are no longer efficient to build, then the projects just won’t get built. NIMBYs and opponents will be happy.
I don’t think anything about the particular structure of the repeal, though, is empowering opponents. It is what it is.
Like, you can begin construction by entering into procurement contracts for equipment to build your facility so if you’re building a project you can enter into a contract today to get modules, warehouse those modules, and then use those modules to cause one or more projects as having begun construction based on when they were purchased.
If a developer today is able to enter into those contracts, that’ll be outside the scope of anything an opponent would have anything to do with.
Are we expecting people to make decisions before the Senate has acted on this bill or are people in a holding pattern?
When the election happened in November I had increased interest in clients who were concerned about a worst-case scenario like this, that credits would be repealed at or around the time of enactment. We had clients betting not that this would happen but [there was still] a 1% chance or a 5% chance. And folks asked then, how do we re-up thinking about how to begin construction on projects as a precautionary measure.
A lot of my clients were thinking about the worst case scenario beforehand. This is probably just escalating their thinking.
I don’t think people have a lot of time to think about what to do, though, given the 60-day cut off after enactment.
What is the silver lining here? Is there any? If I were to talk to a developer right now, is there an on the bright side here?
The short answer is no. Maybe it makes power projects a lot more expensive and American energy a lot more expensive and therefore those building power projects can make more money from their existing projects? That’s whether they’re renewable or otherwise. Other than higher power costs – for consumers, regular old taxpayers – there’s not really a bright side.
So, what you’re saying is, you don’t have any good news?
The good news is the Senate is still out there and needs to review this. There are a few senators who’ve expressed strong support of these credits – I’m not super optimistic, but four senators tend to have a bit more sway than congresspeople do.