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“At least 14 Tarrant County residents died from extreme heat last summer … Of those who died from heat, at least eight cases included residents with no air conditioning, no working air conditioning, or who had their air conditioning turned off at the time of their death…” –The Fort Worth Star-Telegram, June 25, 2023
Air conditioners aren’t supposed to make that sound. The gray-white box in the window had always rattled, but this morning it has begun to grind. The grandmother puts her hand in front of the AC’s dust-covered gills, feels nothing but a weak, lukewarm breeze.
She thinks about calling her daughter, whose husband installed the unit in her trailer’s living room window the summer before. She shakes her head to herself: No, they have the baby; it’s a 40-minute drive; she’s a burden enough as it is. She doesn’t have internet in the trailer to see the day’s excessive heat warning. Her cell phone, another gift from her daughter, is dead more often than it’s not, and she can’t find the weather app on it half of the time, anyway.
But the grandmother has been hot before — prides herself, even, on her 68 Texan summers. Besides, she’s not planning anything strenuous today, which would elevate her chances of exertional, or “activity-induced,” heat stroke — the kind that makes the news for killing the young, fit, and healthy, like the California couple who were found dead on a trail with their 1-year-old baby and dog in 2021, or the stepfather who died last month while trying to rescue his 14-year-old stepson, who also died, while hiking in 119-degree weather in Texas’ Big Bend National Park. Like the dozens of promising high school and college athletes who collapse during training, games, and meets every year.
Or like the characters in longtime Outside correspondent and adventure historian Peter Stark’s cautionary tales about succumbing to the elements. Stark is perhaps best known for his second-person narrative about what it’s like to die from hypothermia, which recirculates every winter, but he has a particular, morbid fascination with heat strokes, having now written two different versions (a competitive cyclist dies in one; a hungover, hiking surfer is brought back from the brink in the other). “Out of all the research I’ve done into ways to die — or come close to dying — heat stroke is the one I found the scariest,” Stark told an Outside interviewer last year.
Like Stark’s characters, the grandmother is fictional and illustrative. Unlike Stark’s characters, she has not elected into risk. Exertional heat stroke is often described as “sporadic” because it is circumstantial; it is also less deadly since an athlete often begins to feel terrible, or collapses, before the point-of-no-return. “Classic” heat stroke, which results from unbearably high temperatures, “occurs in epidemic form” in the sense that it strikes the vulnerable at once and all together: the ill, the elderly, the unhoused, the bedridden, the prepubescent. Though heat-related mortality can be hard to pin down, by some estimates classic heat stroke is fatal in over 60% of intensive care cases — part of the reason extreme heat is credited as the deadliest weather phenomenon in the United States.
The grandmother goes to her sink and fills a glass of water. She looks out the window, at the tall grass growing alongside her neighbor’s trailer, and thinks about her grandbaby. Her trailer, which had stayed cool overnight before the AC conked out, has already begun to feel muggy, but she isn’t alarmed.
It is 97 degrees outside and getting hotter.
The human body is a contradiction: It can run a marathon in under two hours; it can scale the tallest mountain in the world; and it can survive episodes of extreme cold and starvation. At the same time, it is hilariously delicate: Only about 8.2 degrees separate our core body temperature of 98.6 from multi-organ dysfunction, which begins somewhere around 106 degrees, depending on the person and circumstances. Because this leaves little margin for error, our bodies spring into a well-rehearsed response when blood warmed by our environments at the surface of our skin makes its way to our brain, causing our hypothalamus to rustle through its bag of cooling tricks.
The grandmother’s body begins to run through them as the trailer’s temperature rises to 100 degrees, the point at which the body ceases to give off heat and begins to absorb it. Her hair follicles relax to release any trapped warm air against her skin. Her sweat glands are activated, and soon she’s covered in a light sheen that serves to transport heat away from her body via evaporation. Crucially, her blood vessels dilate so that the warmed blood can pass closer to the surface of the skin, where it will ideally be cooled by the heat pulling away from her body.
But as an older adult, the grandmother’s blood vessels don’t dilate as well as they used to. Her body strains to cool itself and her heart pumps harder. And despite her glass of water, the grandmother begins to notice she feels … off. She is experiencing some of the most common heat-related symptoms, the ones most of us are probably familiar with: Her stomach starts to cramp and she feels slightly nauseous as blood is redirected from her gut to the surface of her skin. She begins, also, to feel fatigued — unbeknownst to her, the drowsiness is because her body is running its cooling mechanisms full-blast, compensating for the broken AC.
But today, these systems are fighting an uphill battle. The trailer is humid, meaning the grandmother’s sweat isn’t evaporating as efficiently as it would in dry air. She has a sunburn from sitting on her lawn the day before, and her body is using water to try to heal it, leaving her with less liquid overall to sweat out. She can’t drink enough water to replenish what she’s lost, either, since the human body can only absorb, at max, one liter of water an hour, and those in extreme heat conditions can lose that or more in the same span of time.
Little does the grandmother know, either, that because it’s now over 95 degrees in her trailer, the fan she’s turned on is no longer having any cooling effect. Her core temperature tips toward 100 degrees.
Heat exhaustion sets in when the core body temperature is between 101°F and 104°F, as the grandmother’s is now. (Core body temperature cannot reliably be read on an oral thermometer, which is part of why the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends watching for symptoms of heat exhaustion and heat stroke rather than taking your own measurements). In addition to her fatigue, she now feels dizzy. Her heart is pounding as her body tries to regulate itself; if she had a preexisting cardiac condition, she would be in even more danger than she already is. She stands up to get more water and feels a woosh of lightheadedness — a result of low pressure stemming from her dilated vessels — and her vision momentarily goes black. She nearly faints, but steadies herself with a hand on the back of a chair.
If a neighbor checked in on her, as the weathermen on TV are advising good samaritans do, they would see that the grandmother looks pale, that she’s grown irritable and unfocused. The neighbor might suggest she take a cold shower before asking her to come to their air-conditioned trailer, or a local cooling center, for the rest of the day. The most crucial thing, though, would be that she gets to a safe temperature, and fast, before her core hits 104, the threshold of heat stroke.
In her delirium, the grandmother thinks to take an Advil, foggily hoping a fever-reducer might help lower her core body temperature. And though the damage wrought by extreme heat is similar internally to that inflicted by a dangerously high fever, the response systems at play in each case are completely different. For extreme heat, there is no magic pill, no shut-off switch for how the grandmother is feeling aside from getting somewhere cool.
It might seem like a simple thing: getting somewhere cool. In this sense, classic heat stroke is, agonizingly, preventable. Though most Americans have air conditioning, over a quarter — 34 million households — “said they could not [financially] meet their energy needs at some point” during 2020, according to Energy Information Administration data. Of those who were struggling, 10% reported enduring dangerously high temperatures in their homes due to concerns about cost.
Because Americans typically do have access to AC, though, losing air conditioning for reasons beyond their control — say, due to grid failure, a localized blackout, or a mechanical issue — actually makes people more susceptible to dangerous heat-related illness, in part because acclimation has such a large role in how well we tolerate heat. The shock of living in climate-controlled rooms and suddenly finding yourself without one can be deadly.
The grandmother’s internal temperature is now over 105 degrees and still rising; she is well within the realm of heat stroke. Her pulse is rapid and now she is confused and agitated — she stumbles, directionless, toward her living room and collapses on the floor. Her body is rationing water away from vital organs, like her kidneys, which begin to shut down. Her brain is swollen. She cycles in and out of consciousness on the floor.
Her body is past the point of being able to bring its temperature back down by itself. A heat stroke victim may stop sweating. Their cells begin to die — the cerebellum, which controls motor functions, is one of the earliest parts of the brain to fail. They may have seizures or hallucinate or, nearing the end, feel a soaring sense of euphoria. Internally, the body is in freefall; by one estimate, there are 27 different pathways to death once heat stroke sets in, ranging from heart failure to the proteins that control blood clotting becoming overactive and cutting off flow to vital organs.
When the grandmother’s daughter arrives and calls the paramedics, it will only have been two hours since the grandmother first noticed her air conditioner’s grinding. “That’s part of what makes [heat stroke] so lethal,” Willamette Week wrote after the heat wave in the Pacific Northwest in 2021 killed an estimated 250 Americans: “You can go from feeling bothered by the heat to dead in 90 minutes.”
Victims of classic heat stroke are often elderly, often have pre-existing health conditions, often are socially isolated, and often are low-income. In an analysis of heat deaths in Multnomah County (where Portland, Oregon, is located) in 2021, The Washington Post found 61 percent of confirmed deaths were in areas with above-average poverty rates. In the same story, the reporters found that a “direct outreach” program in Philadelphia — which includes a “mass notification system,” “the number for a 24-hour hotline staffed by nurses [flashing] from one of the city’s tallest high rises,” and a 5,000-strong volunteer team that mobilizes “to check on high-risk neighbors” — saves an average of 45 lives per year.
If the grandmother had been younger, she might have been treated with “cold-water immersion,” which is one of the fastest and most reliable ways to address heat stroke. (Willamette Week reports Oregon paramedics resourcefully filled body bags with ice and had those suffering from heat stroke crawl inside). In the case of the elderly, though, it is advised to treat heat stroke with more easily tolerable cooling methods, like the application of ice packs and cold, wet gauze.
Either way, the outcome past the threshold of heat stroke is uncertain. As Stark, the master of the cautionary tale, writes, “A study reviewing 58 of the severe heat stroke victims [after a 1995 Chicago heat wave] found that 21 percent died in the hospital soon after admission, 28 percent died within a year, and all the remaining subjects experienced organ dysfunction and neurological impairments.”
But he sees a grim silver lining. “It could be a small measure of good fortune,” writes Stark, “that confusion, semiconsciousness, or coma overcome victims as they succumb to severe heatstroke.”
The laborer puts the nail gun down on the nearest cinderblock and sweeps the back of his hand across his brow, a portrait of I’m hot. Though the elimination of water breaks won’t go into effect until the fall, his employer has threatened to fire anyone who “slacks off” anyway, and the laborer needs this job. He watches for a moment as the heat makes strange shapes in the air above the new asphalt driveway. He thinks he might have a headache coming on.
There are five more hours to go. It’s 96 degrees out with 66% humidity.
And tomorrow will be another scorcher.
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A longtime climate messaging strategist is tired of seeing the industry punch below its weight.
The saga of President Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act contains at least one clear lesson for the clean energy industry: It must grow a political spine and act like the trillion-dollar behemoth it is. And though the logic is counterintuitive, the new law will likely provide an opportunity to build one.
The coming threat to renewable energy investment became apparent as soon as Trump won the presidency again last fall. The only questions were how much was vulnerable, and through what mechanisms.
Still, many clean energy leaders were optimistic that Trump’s “energy abundance” agenda had room for renewables. During the transition, one longtime Republican energy lobbyist told Utility Dive that Trump’s incoming cabinet had a “very aggressive approach towards renewables.” When Democratic Senator John Hickenlooper introduced would-be Secretary of Energy Chris Wright at the fracking executive’s confirmation hearing, he vouched for Wright’s clean energy cred. Even Trump touted Wright’s experience with solar.
At least initially, the argument made sense. After all, energy demand is soaring, and solar, wind, and battery storage account for 95% of new power projects awaiting grid connection in the U.S. In red states like Texas and Oklahoma, clean energy is booming because it’s cheap. Just a few months ago, the Lone Star State achieved record energy generation from solar, wind, and batteries, and consumers there are saving millions of dollars a day because of renewables. The Biden administration funneled clean energy and manufacturing investment into red districts in part to cultivate Republican support for renewables — and to protect those investments no matter who is president.
As a result, for the past six months, clean energy executives have absorbed advice telling them to fly below the radar. Stop using the word “climate” and start using words like “common sense” when you talk to lawmakers. (As a communications and policy strategist who works extensively on climate issues, I’ve given that specific piece of advice.)
But far too many companies and industry groups went much further than tweaking their messaging. They stopped publicly advocating for their interests, and as a result there has been no muscular effort to pressure elected officials where it counts: their reelection campaigns.
This is part of a broader lack of engagement with elected officials on the part of clean energy companies. The oil and gas industry has outspent clean energy on lobbying 2 to 1 this year, despite the fact that oil and gas faces a hugely favorable political environment. In the run up to the last election, the fossil fuel industry spent half a billion dollars to influence candidates; climate and clean energy advocates again spent just a fraction, despite having more on the line. My personal preference is to get money out of politics, but you have to play by the rules as they exist.
Even economically irresistible technologies can be legislated into irrelevance if they don’t have political juice. The last-minute death of the mysterious excise tax on wind and solar that was briefly part of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act was a glaring sign of weakness, not strength — especially given that even the watered-down provisions in the law will damage the economics of renewable energy. After the law passed, the President directed the Treasury Department to issue the strictest possible guidance for the clean energy projects that remain eligible for tax credits.
The tech industry learned this same lesson over many years. The big tech companies started hiring scores of policy and political staff in the 2010s, when they were already multi-hundred-billion dollar companies, but it wasn’t until 2017 that a tech company became the top lobbying spender. Now the tech industry has a sophisticated influence operation that includes carrots and sticks. Crypto learned this lesson even faster, emerging almost overnight as one of the most aggressive industries shaping Washington.
Clean energy needs to catch up. But lobbying spending isn’t a panacea.
Executives in the clean energy sector sometimes say they are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Democrats and the segment of potentially supportive Republicans at the local and federal levels talk and think about clean energy differently. And the dissonance makes it challenging to communicate honestly with both parties, especially in public.
The clean energy industry should recognize that the safest ground is to criticize and cultivate both parties unabashedly. The American political system understands economic self interest, and there are plenty of policy changes that various segments of the clean energy world need from both Democrats and Republicans at the federal and state levels. Democrats need to make it easier to build; Republicans need to support incentives they regularly trumpet for other job-creating industries.
The quality of political engagement from clean energy companies and the growing ecosystem of advocacy groups has improved. The industry, disparate as it is, has gotten smarter. Advocates now bring district-by-district data to policymakers, organize lobby days, and frame clean energy in terms that resonate across the aisle — national security, economic opportunity in rural America, artificial intelligence, and the race with China. That’s progress.
But the tempo is still far too low, and there are too many carrots and too few sticks. The effects of President Trump’s tax law on energy prices might create some leverage. If the law damages renewable energy generation, and thereby raises energy prices as energy demand continues to rise, Americans should know who is responsible. The clean energy sector has to be the messenger, or at least orchestrate the messaging.
The campaigns write themselves: Paid media targeting members of Congress who praised clean energy job growth in their districts and then voted to gut jobs and raise prices; op-eds in local papers calling out that hypocrisy by name; energy workers showing up at town halls demanding their elected officials fight for an industry that’s investing billions in their communities; activating influencers to highlight the bright line between Trump’s law and higher electricity bills; and more.
If renewable energy is going to grow consistently in America, no matter which way the political wind blows, there must be a political cost to crossing the sector. Otherwise it will always be vulnerable to last-minute backroom deals, no matter how “win-win” its technology is.
On IRA funds, rescissions, and EV battery technology
Current conditions: The National Weather Service is advising Americans in 11 states affected by heat waves to avoid coffee and alcohol due to dehydration risk • There have been more wildfires in London this summer than in all of 2024 • We’re at the halfway point in climatological summer and the United States’ hottest day of the year — 124 degrees Fahrenheit in Death Valley, California, on Monday — may now be behind us.
It has long been a “big mystery” how much grant funding from the Inflation Reduction Act the Biden administration ultimately got out the door before leaving the White House. Previously, the administration had announced awards for about 67% of the $145.4 billion in grants. Still, it wasn’t until Republicans in Congress began their rescissions of the bill’s unobligated funds that a fuller picture began to emerge.
According to reporting by my colleague Emily Pontecorvo, the Biden administration spent or otherwise obligated about $61.7 billion before leaving office, with President Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill clawing back $31.7 billion from 47 IRA programs. Programs that had the greatest proportion of their funding obligated include:
There’s a lot more in the data to dig through, too, which Emily does here.
Senate Republicans voted narrowly Tuesday evening to advance President Trump’s $9.4 billion rescissions package, with Vice President JD Vance casting the tie-breaking vote. Three Republican senators — Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, Susan Collins of Maine, and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska — joined Democrats in opposing the package. Congress must vote to approve the rescissions by Friday to meet a statutory 45-day deadline that began when President Trump sent his proposal on June 3. The vote-a-rama is set to begin Thursday afternoon.
The proposed package would eliminate $1.1 billion from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which funds PBS and NPR, as well as large portions of foreign assistance programs. (A controversial plan to cut $400 million from the country’s AIDS relief program, known as PEPFAR, was ultimately removed to convince Republican holdouts.) But as I’ve written before, the package also takes aim at $1.7 billion of the $3.6 billion appropriated for the Economic Support Fund, which has historically been used to work with international partners to mitigate the impacts of climate change, as well as $125 million from the Clean Technology Fund, which provides financial resources for developing countries to invest in clean energy projects. The White House has said the programs do not “reflect America’s values or put the American people first.”
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China announced Tuesday that to protect the valuable breakthroughs that have allowed it to produce inexpensive electric vehicles, it will begin to restrict “eight key technologies for manufacturing [EV] batteries,” The New York Times reports. The move, which is effective immediately, will require a license from the Chinese government before any technologies can be transferred overseas “through trade, investment or technological cooperation.”
The move follows pressure by the European Union on Chinese EV and battery manufacturers to build factories within the bloc. As I covered in Heatmap AM yesterday, electric vehicle sales are booming in China in large part due to their affordability, with the nation being the “only large market where EVs are on average cheaper to buy than comparable combustion cars,” BloombergNEF has found. Though lithium-ion phosphate battery technology originated in the United States more than three decades ago, Chinese companies BYD and CATL have “figured out a way to further increase the number of recharges, making it comparable to more traditional battery chemistries,” in addition to advances in mass-production and capacity, the Times adds.
The third quarter of 2025 will “likely” see record sales of electric vehicles in the United States as would-be buyers rush to use the $7,500 tax credit before it expires on September 30, Cox Automotive’s Kelley Blue Book reported this week. Electric vehicle sales were lower in Q2 of 2025 than in 2024 by 6.3%, with 310,839 new EVs sold, marking “only the third decline on record, and a sign of a more mature market,” Stephanie Valdez Streaty, senior analyst at Cox Automotive, said in a statement. Additionally, sales of used EVs — only a third of which had qualified for government incentives anyway before those were eliminated — are up, with 100,000 units sold in Q2. But the real story will be what happens in Q3, where there’s “about to be a fire sale” as consumers race against the clock, Andrew Moseman writes for Heatmap. If you’re among the shoppers, he’s got the scoop on EV deals here.
The United States will either “reform” the International Energy Agency or “withdraw,” Energy Secretary Chris Wright told Bloomberg Tuesday during the Pennsylvania Energy and Innovation Summit at Carnegie Mellon University. The IEA, which was originally established to focus on oil security during the 1970s, has been characterized by Republicans as becoming a “cheerleader” for the renewable energy transition, in the recent words of Senator John Barrasso of Wyoming. Wright echoed those concerns in his conversation with Bloomberg, telling the publication that the IEA’s projections that oil demand will plateau this decade are “total nonsense.” Despite the threats, Wright stressed that his “strong preference” for handling the IEA is “to reform it.”
Several major beauty brands, including L’Oréal Paris and Neutrogena, are set to include environmental impact ratings on their packaging. “The EcoBeautyScore” — which runs from A to E — “indicates the environmental footprint of beauty products based on its entire lifecycle, from ingredients to packaging and how it is disposed of,” Cosmetics Business reports.
Rob does a post-vacation debrief with Jesse and Heatmap deputy editor Jillian Goodman on the One Big Beautiful Bill.
It’s official. On July 4, President Trump signed the Republican reconciliation bill into law, gutting many of the country’s most significant clean energy tax credits. The future of the American solar, wind, battery, and electric vehicle industries looks very different now than it did last year.
On this week’s episode of Shift Key, we survey the damage and look for bright spots. What did the law, in its final version, actually repeal, and what did it leave intact? How much could still change as the Trump administration implements the law? What does this mean for U.S. economic competitiveness? And how are we feeling about the climate fight today?
Jillian Goodman, Heatmap’s deputy editor, joins us to discuss all these questions and more. Shift Key is hosted by Jesse Jenkins, a professor of energy systems engineering at Princeton University, and Robinson Meyer, Heatmap’s executive editor.
Subscribe to “Shift Key” and find this episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.
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Here is an excerpt from our conversation:
Robinson Meyer: I want to ask a version of the Upshift / Downshift question of both of you, which is, how are you feeling?
Jillian Goodman: Dizzy. I’m feeling dizzy.
Jesse Jenkins: I would like a break. Yes.
Meyer: You both had your faces up against the coalface of this policy change over the past two weeks. And I’m not someone who thinks how we feel about climate change is always the most salient question. At some point of working on it professionally, I think one just kind of is like, well, this is the thing I work on, and I get up in the morning and I try to make it better, and it doesn’t really matter whether I’m optimistic or pessimistic at the moment because you just keep pushing. That’s how it works.
Jenkins: I think it’s how you survive in this game this long, is adopting an attitude like that to some degree.
Meyer: The U.S. just went through a kind of clattering change to its energy and climate policy and got rid of a number of policies that, although flawed, were pushing the U.S. energy system in the right direction, and were a real vote of confidence and of good faith in the energy transition. Has watching the events of the past two weeks made you feel pessimistic about the energy transition to come? Or are you feeling like, you know, for a world where Trump won, for a world where the U.S. faced the constraints and the political environment that it did in 2023 and 2024 and 2025, we can work with this and there’s gonna be new stuff coming down the pipeline and we’re gonna keep deploying.
Goodman: I will say, kind of similar to you, Rob, doing this work is sort of my way of processing my climate anxiety, or at least putting some kind of wall of professionalism between that climate anxiety and my daily life. Like, this is my contribution, and I think about it as a professional, and I don’t really think about it as a human as often.
I will say, it’s shocking to me how much of a … you know, it is not a 100% policy reversal, but the extent to which the government of the United States was willing to throw out its existing climate policy that took however many years and decades to get to just really kind of floors me. And it’s the kind of thing that we can’t do again, at least not in this way. It’s not that U.S. companies will never again trust a climate-oriented tax credit. I think that’s a bit of an overstatement. But this approach has been tried, and then it’s been undone. And so whatever approach is tried in the future will have to be something new, and it’ll have to be motivated by different arguments, and it will have to have different structures. And that project, I think, is also kind of daunting.
Jenkins: Yeah, so look, this is a terrible piece of policy for the United States, and for the world. And so on the one hand, I’m mad as hell about it, right? I mean, we haven’t even talked about the broader effects beyond climate of this bill. It’s going to kick nearly one in 20 Americans off of their health insurance. It’s going to explode the deficit so that we can mostly give tax cuts to wealthy people and corporations who don’t need it. It’s going to reduce food stamp spending for people who can’t afford to eat so that people who can afford first class flights can have another vacation. Like, this is just bad policy, and it is a bad way to do energy policy, to completely reverse course just because the other guy won the election, rather than to have a more thoughtful rationalization of the tax code for energy investment.
I think it’s particularly scary to think about the implications for our automotive sector, having basically replaced a pretty thoughtful and fairly successful domestic industrial strategy around EVs and batteries with basically nothing except for some subsidies that build a wall around the United States is really concerning.I don’t know that we’re gonna have a globally relevant auto industry in five years …
Mentioned:
The REPEAT Project report on what the OBBBA will mean for the future of American emissions
The Bipartisan Policy Center’s foreign entities of concern explainer
The new White House executive order about renewables tax credits
And here’s more of Heatmap’s coverage from the endgame of OBBBA.
This episode of Shift Key is sponsored by …
The Yale Center for Business and the Environment’s online clean energy programs equip you with tangible skills and powerful networks—and you can continue working while learning. In just five hours a week, propel your career and make a difference.
Music for Shift Key is by Adam Kromelow.