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New research published today in Nature shocked even the study’s own authors.

Hurricane Helene is, by conventional measures, the deadliest hurricane to strike the continental United States since Katrina. At least 182 people have been confirmed killed by the storm, with hundreds of people still unaccounted for. Although all hurricanes are deadly, only a handful of storms have killed more than 100 people since 1950. Or at least that is what we have long thought. New research suggests that these conventional tallies may be a vast undercount.
Several years ago, two economists and public policy researchers — Rachel Young and Solomon Hsiang, now of Princeton and Stanford — began to study a seemingly simple question: How many Americans do hurricanes kill each year? According to the federal government, the average hurricane kills 24 people after making landfall. That seemed likely to be a modest underestimate. Economists know that natural disasters can have a long tail of suffering; Hsiang expected the real number to be a “single digit multiple” of that figure — perhaps 50 or 100 people per storm.
Yet when they ran the numbers and looked at mortality in places affected by storms, they were initially perplexed by the results, Hsiang told me earlier this week. The numbers they came up with didn’t even make sense at first.
“It was months of us trying to understand what we were looking at,” Hsiang said. “And then once we realized what we were seeing, it was years of us checking our work to find what we missed.” Only when it was clear that their work resembled other American public health statistics — specifically, that the white-Black mortality mirrored what has been found in other studies — that the horrifying truth sunk in.
The finding: Hurricanes are hundreds of times deadlier than anyone has realized.
Their study, which was published on Wednesday in Nature, finds that the average hurricane kills 7,000 to 11,000 people after making landfall in the United States. These previously uncounted deaths happened not during a storm or in its immediate aftermath, but as a long, slow trickle of mortality that plagues a region long after the clouds have cleared and floods have abated.
In any one year, the number of storm-related deaths is not very high. And yet a wave of excess deaths is visible in population data for at least 15 years after a storm hits an area, they found.
“It lasts for so many years, and because there’s so many storms hitting so many states, once you add up, it becomes this enormous number,” Hsiang told me. When added together, hurricanes’ long-term death toll exceeds American combat deaths in all wars, combined. The number so dwarfs previous estimates that it suggests tropical cyclones alone are a major determinant of public health across the United States.
Kerry Emanuel, an MIT meteorology professor who studies climate change and hurricanes, told me that the results were “truly astounding” and “persuasive,” although he noted that he is not an expert in the statistical approach used in the paper.
“Summed over all hurricanes, this amounts to three to five percent of all deaths near the Atlantic coast,” he said. “I expect this result will prove controversial and will be followed up by many other studies of long-term mortality from natural disasters.”
The paper fits into a growing body of research on what others have called the hidden or invisible public health threat of environmental threats. For years, researchers have known that air pollution and heat waves, seemingly silent hazards, can in fact kill tens of thousands of people. Lately they have begun to apply the same techniques to other hazards, with outsized results.
Officially, Hurricane Maria killed 64 people when it struck Puerto Rico in 2017. But when researchers surveyed households across the island months after the storm, they found the death toll was closer to 4,600. (The territory’s government later revised the official figure to 2,975.) These deaths were caused not by the cyclone’s high winds or torrential floods, but rather by secondary effects of the storm’s destruction. Maria took out the island’s power grid and road networks, for instance, and preventing people with heart attacks and strokes from reaching the hospital in time.
That paper was written six months after Maria struck the island; this new hurricane paper considers a wider time horizon, finding that more than 80,000 Americans die each year as a result of a hurricane, whenever it occurred. Black people were disproportionately killed by the aftermath of hurricanes, at least partly because a larger share of the country’s Black population lives in storm-afflicted areas. About 37,000 white deaths each year are due to a prior tropical cyclone.
How could such storms cause such a long tail of deaths, affecting areas 10 or 15 years after they come ashore? The paper cannot answer those questions today. But Hsiang and Young hypothesize that hurricanes cause extreme economic distress, which can resonate for years or decades afterward. “If someone suffers a loss and can’t invest in their business, then it will have ramifications for their income long into the future,” Hsiang told me. “If someone is on a fixed income and their garage is destroyed, and they pull from their retirement funds to fix the garage, then eight years later when they face a big medical decision, they might choose” a cheaper or less effective form of treatment.
“When you talk to people, you hear stories like this,” Hsiang added. The time and money invested in dealing with the storm is often a “pure loss,” even if some of the damage ultimately gets reimbursed. “Even if you have insurance, that just means you already paid for it in some way,” he said.
Storms cause disruption in other ways. They can break up communities and social networks. (If children move away, for instance, their parent can face higher medical bills.) Hurricanes can also impose high costs on states, towns, and cities, which may then have to reduce or restrict other services as a result.
“When you think about how communities rebuild — local municipalities and states — they also play a lot of games with their budget” in the aftermath of a storm, Hsiang said. “If they spend a lot of money to rebuild a bridge or boardwalk somewhere, does that come out of some social program 10 years later? Or building a new NICU hospital?” That could explain why an infant — even one born 15 years after a storm struck a given area — could face a higher chance of death.
Young and Hsiang think that these economic drivers are most likely to be the big reason for the excess deaths — the effect is just too big and drawn out to make any other cause likely — but other possibilities exist, they recognize. Hurricanes could be deadly simply because they are highly stressful events. “We see an effect on cancer rates and also cardiovascular illness. Stress matters a lot to those,” Hsiang said. It’s also possible that hurricanes unleash contamination into the environment that then makes people sick. A flooded basement can become a breeding ground for mold. “There’s gas stations in every town. What chemicals come out when there’s flooding?” Hsiang wondered.
The paper may also help resolve a riddle in American public health. On average, Americans die earlier in the eastern half of the continental United States than in the western half. This effect is worst in the Gulf Coast and Southeast but persists to some degree in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast.
The paper suggests that hurricanes may have something to do with this geographic phenomenon. For infants, people below the age of 44, and Black people of all ages, hurricanes may explain a large share but not all of the mortality gap.
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Deep cuts to the department have left each staffer with a huge amount of money to manage.
The Department of Energy has an enviable problem: It has more money than it can spend.
DOE disbursed just 2% of its total budgetary resources in fiscal year 2025, according to a report released earlier this year from the EFI Foundation, a nonprofit that tracks innovations in energy. That figure is far lower than the 38% of funds it distributed the year prior.
While some of that is due to political whiplash in Washington, there is another, far more mundane cause: There simply aren’t that many people left to oversee the money. Thanks to the Department of Government Efficiency’s efforts, one in five DOE staff members left the agency. On top of that, Energy Secretary Chris Wright shuffled around and combined offices in a Kafkaesque restructuring. Short on workers and clear direction, the department appears unable to churn through its sizable budget.

Though Congress provides budgetary authority, agencies are left to allot spending for the programs under their ambit, and then obligate payments through contracts, grants, and loans. While departments are expected to use the money they’re allocated, federal staff have to work through the gritty details of each individual transaction.
As a result of its reduced headcount, DOE’s employees are each responsible for far more budgetary resources than ever before.
“DOE is facing its largest imbalance in its history,” Alex Kizer, executive vice president of EFI Foundation, told me. In fiscal year 2017, DOE budgeted around $4.7 million per full-time employee. In the fiscal year 2026 budget request, that figure reached $35.7 million per worker — about eight times more.
Part of that increase is the result of the unprecedented injection of funding into DOE from the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act and the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. The pair of laws, which gave DOE access to $97 billion, comprised the United States’ largest investment to combat climate change in the nation’s history.
The epoch of federally backed renewable energy investment proved to be short-lived, however. Once President Trump retook office last year, his administration froze funds and initiated a purge of federal workers that resulted in 3,000 staffers (about one in five) leaving DOE through the Deferred Resignation Program. The administration canceled hundreds of projects, evaporating $23 billion in federal support.
While the One Big Beautiful Bill Act passed last summer depleted some of the IRA’s coffers and sunsetted many tax credits years early, it only rescinded about $1.8 billion from DOE, according to the EFI Foundation. Much of the IRA’s spending had already gone out the door or was left intact.
This leaves DOE in a strange position: Its budget is historically high, but its staffing levels have suffered an unprecedented drop.

Even before the short-lived Elon Musk-run agency took a chainsaw to the federal workforce, DOE struggled to hire enough people to keep up with the pace of funding demanded by the IRA’s funding deadlines. The Loan Programs Office, for example, was criticized for moving too slowly in shelling out its hundreds of billions in loan authority. According to a report from three ex-DOE staffers that Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo covered, the IRA’s implementation suffered from a lack of “highly skilled, highly talented staff” to carry out its many programs.
“The last year’s uncertainty and the staff cuts, the project cancellations, those increase an already tightening bottleneck of difficulty with implementation at the department,” Sarah Frances Smith, EFI Foundation’s deputy director, told me.
One former longtime Department of Energy staffer who asked not to be named because they may want to return one day told me that as soon as Trump’s second term started, funding disbursement slowed to a halt. Employees had to get permission from leadership just to pay invoices for projects that had already been granted funding, the ex-DOE worker said.
While the Trump administration quickly moved to hamstring renewable energy resources, staff were kept busy complying with executive orders such as removing any mention of diversity equity and inclusion from government websites and responding to automated “What did you do last week?” emails.
On top of government funding drying up, Kizer told me that the confusion surrounding DOE has had a “cooling effect on the private sector’s appetite to do business with DOE,” though the size of that effect is “hard to quantify.”
Under President Biden, DOE put a lot of effort into building trust with companies doing work critical to its renewable energy priorities. Now, states and companies alike are suing DOE to restore revoked funds. In a recent report, the Government Accountability Office warned, “Private companies, which are often funding more than 50 percent of these projects, may reconsider future partnerships with the federal government.”
Clean energy firms aren’t the only ones upset by DOE’s about-face. Even the Republican-controlled Congress balked at President Trump’s proposed deep cuts to DOE’s budget in its latest round of budget negotiations. Appropriations for fiscal year 2026 will be just slightly lower than the year before — though without additional headcount to manage it, the same difficulties getting money out the door will remain.
The widespread staff exit also appears to have slowed work supporting the administration’s new priorities, namely coal and critical minerals. LPO, which was rebranded the “Office of Energy Dominance Financing,” has announced only a few new loans since President Biden left office. Southern Company, which received the Office’s largest-ever loan, was previously backed by a loan to its subsidiary Georgia Power under the first Trump administration.
Despite Trump’s frequent invocation of the importance of coal, DOE hasn’t accomplished much for the technology besides some funding to keep open a handful of struggling coal plants and a loan to restart a coal gasification plant for fertilizer production that was already in LPO’s pipeline under Biden.
Even if DOE wanted to become an oil and gas-enabling juggernaut, it may not have the labor force it needs to carry out a carbon-heavy energy mandate.
“When you cut as many people as they did, you have to figure out who’s going to do the stuff that those people were doing,” said the ex-DOE staffer. “And now they’re going to move and going, Oh crap, we fired that guy.”
Will moving fast and breaking air permits exacerbate tensions with locals?
The Trump administration is trying to ease data centers’ power permitting burden. It’s likely to speed things up. Whether it’ll kick up more dust for the industry is literally up in the air.
On Tuesday, the EPA proposed a rule change that would let developers of all stripes start certain kinds of construction before getting a historically necessary permit under the Clean Air Act. Right now this document known as a New Source Review has long been required before you can start building anything that will release significant levels of air pollutants – from factories to natural gas plants. If EPA finalizes this rule, it will mean companies can do lots of work before the actual emitting object (say, a gas turbine) is installed, down to pouring concrete for cement pads.
The EPA’s rule change itself doesn’t mention AI data centers. However, the impetus was apparent in press materials as the agency cited President Trump’s executive order to cut red tape around the sector. Industry attorneys and environmental litigants alike told me this change will do just that, cutting months to years from project construction timelines, and put pressure on state regulators to issue air permits by allowing serious construction to start that officials are usually reluctant to disrupt.
“I think the intended result is also what will happen. Developers will be able to move more quickly, without additional delay,” said Jeff Holmstead, a D.C.-based attorney with Bracewell who served as EPA assistant administrator for air and radiation under George H.W. Bush. “It will almost certainly save some time for permitting and construction of new infrastructure.”
Air permitting is often a snag that will hold up a major construction project. Doubly so for gas-powered generation. Before this proposal, the EPA historically was wary to let companies invest in what any layperson would consider actual construction work. The race for more AI infrastructure has changed the game, supercharging what was already an active debate over energy needs and our nation’s decades-old environmental laws.
Many environmental groups condemned the proposal upon its release, stating it would make gas-powered AI data centers more popular and diminish risks currently in place for using dirtier forms of electricity. Normally, they argue, this permitting process would give state and federal officials an early opportunity to gauge whether pollution control measures make sense and if a developer’s preferred design would unduly harm the surrounding community. This could include encouraging developers to consider alternate energy sources.
“Inevitably agencies have flexibility as to how much they ask, and what this allows them to do is pre-commit in ways that’ll force agencies to take stuff off the table. What’s taken off the table, it’s hard to know, but you’re constraining options to respond to public concerns or recognize air quality impacts,” said Sanjay Narayan, Sierra Club’s chief appellate counsel.
Herein lies the dilemma: will regulatory speed for power sacrifice opportunities for input that could quell local concerns?
We’re seeing this dilemma play out in real time with Project Matador, a large data center proposal being developed in Amarillo, Texas, by the Rick Perry-backed startup Fermi Americas. Project Matador is purportedly going to be massive and Fermi claims its supposed to one day reach 11 GW, which would make it one of the biggest data centers in the world.
Fermi’s plans have focused on relying on nuclear power in the future. But the only place they’ve made real progress so far in getting permits is gas generation. In February, the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality gave Fermi its air permit for building and operating up to 6 gigawatts of gas power at Project Matador. At that time, Fermi was also rooting for relaxed New Source Review standards, applauding EPA in comments to media for signaling it would take this step. The company’s former CEO Toby Neugebauer also told investors on their first earnings call that Trump officials personally intervened to help get them gas turbines from overseas. (There’s scant public evidence to date of this claim and Neugebauer was fired by Fermi’s board last month.)
But now Fermi’s permit is also being threatened in court. In April, a citizens group Panhandle Taxpayers for Transparency filed a lawsuit against TCEQ challenging the validity of the permit. The case centers around whether the commission was right to deny a request for a contested case hearing brought by members of the group who lived and worked close to Project Matador. “Once these decisions are made, they don’t get reversed,” Michael Ford, Panhandle Taxpayers for Transparency’s founder, said in a fundraising video.
This is also a financial David vs. Goliath, as Ford admits in the fundraising video they have less than $2,000 to spend on the case – a paltry sum they admit barely covers legal bills. We’re also talking about a state that culturally and legally sides often with developers and fossil fuel firms.
At the same time, this lawsuit couldn’t come at a more difficult time as Fermi is struggling with other larger problems (see: Neugebauer’s ouster). Eric Allman, one of the attorneys representing Panhandle Taxpayers for Transparency, told me they’re still waiting on a judge assignment and estimated it’ll take about one year to get a ruling. Allman told me legally Fermi can continue construction during the legal challenge but there are real risks. “Applicants on many occasions will pause activity while there is an appeal pending,” he told me, “because if the suit is successful, they won’t have an authorization.”
Aerial photos reported by independent journalist Michael Thomas purportedly show Fermi hasn’t done significant construction since obtaining its air permit. Fermi did not respond to multiple requests for comment on the lawsuit.
Industry attorneys I spoke to who wished to remain anonymous told me it was too early to say whether EPA’s rulemaking would exacerbate local conflicts by making things move faster. “A lot of times the environmental community likes to litigate things in the hope delays will kill a project, so in that regard, this strategy may be harder for them to implement now,” one lawyer told me. “But just because a plant gets a permit doesn’t mean they can build.”
Environmental lawyers, meanwhile, clearly see more potential for social friction in a faster process. Keri Powell of the Southern Environmental Law Center compared this EPA action to xAI’s rapid buildout in Tennessee and Mississippi where the Al company’s construction of gas turbines before it received its permits has only added to local controversy. This new rule would not make what xAI did permissible; this is a different matter. Yet there are thematic similarities between what the company is doing and the new permitting regime, with natural gas generation expanding faster when companies are allowed to start forms of site work before an air permit is issued.
“By the time a permit is issued, the company will be very, very far along in constructing a facility. All they’ll need to do is bring in the emitting unit, and oftentimes that doesn’t entail very much,” she said. “Imagine you’re a state or local permitting agency – your ability to choose something different than what the company already decided to do is going to be limited.”
And more of the week’s top fights around development.
1. Berkeley County, South Carolina – Forget about Richland County, Ohio. All eyes in Solar World should be on this county where officials are trying to lift a solar moratorium.
2. Hill County, Texas – We have our first Texas county trying to ban new data centers and it’s in one of the more conservative pockets of the state.
3. Sussex County, New Jersey – A town in north Jersey rapidly changed course from backing a new data center to outright banning all projects.
4. Porter County, Indiana – The Chicago ex-urb of Valparaiso is significantly restricting data centers too, after pulling the plug on a large project under development.
5. King County, Washington – It’s Snoqualmie vs. the energy sector right now, as the new poster child for battery backlash bans BESS in its borders.