You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
They can be an effective wildfire prevention tool — but not always.
Once the fires stop burning in Los Angeles and the city picks itself up from the rubble, the chorus of voices asking how such a disaster could have been prevented will rise. In California, the answer to that desperate query is so often “better forestry management practices,” and in particular “more controlled burns.” But that’s not always the full story, and in the case of the historically destructive L.A. fires, many experts doubt that prescribed burns and better vegetation management would have mattered much at all.
Controlled burns are intentionally set and supervised by land managers to clear out excess fuels such as shrubs, trees, and logs to reduce wildfire risk. Many habitats also require fire to thrive, and so ensuring they burn in a controlled manner is a win-win for natural ecosystems and the man-made environment. But controlled burns also pose a series of challenges. For one, complex permitting processes and restrictions around when and where burns are allowed can deter agencies from attempting them. Community backlash is also an issue, as residents are often concerned about air quality as well as the possibility of the prescribed fires spiraling out of control. Land management agencies also worry about the liability risks of a controlled burn getting out of hand.
Many of the state’s largest and most destructive fires — including the Camp Fire in 2018, lightning complex fires in 2020, and Dixie Fire in 2021 — started in forests, and would therefore have likely been severely curtailed had the state done more controlled burns. According to ProPublica, anywhere between 4.4 million and 11.8 million acres used to burn annually in prehistoric California. By 2017, overzealous fire suppression efforts driven by regulatory barriers and short-term risk aversion had caused that number to drop to 13,000 acres. While the state has increased the amount of prescribed fire in recent years, the backlog of fuel is enormous.
But the L.A. fires didn’t start or spread in a forest. The largest blaze, in the Pacific Palisades neighborhood, ignited in a chaparral environment full of shrubs that have been growing for about 50 years. Jon Keeley, a research scientist with the U.S. Geological Survey and an adjunct professor at the University of California, Los Angeles, said that’s not enough time for this particular environment to build up an “unnatural accumulation of fuels.”
“That’s well within the historical fire frequency for that landscape,” Keeley told my colleague, Emily Pontecorvo, for her reporting on what started the fires. Generally, he said, these chaparral environments should burn every 30 to 130 years, with coastal areas like Pacific Palisades falling on the longer end of that spectrum. “Fuels are not really the issue in these big fires — it’s the extreme winds. You can do prescription burning in chaparral and have essentially no impact on Santa Ana wind-driven fires.”
Get the best of Heatmap in your inbox daily.
We still don’t know what ignited the L.A. fires, and thus whether a human, utility, or other mysterious source is to blame. But the combination of factors that led to the blazes — wet periods that allowed for abundant vegetation growth followed by drought and intensely powerful winds — are simply a perilously bad combination. Firebreaks, strips of land where vegetation is reduced or removed, can often prove helpful, and they do exist in the L.A. hillsides. But as Matthew Hurteau, a professor at the University of New Mexico and director of the Center for Fire Resilient Ecosystems and Society, told me bluntly, “When you have 100-mile-an-hour winds pushing fire, there’s not a hell of a lot that’s going to stop it.”
Hurteau told me that he thinks of the primary drivers of destructive fires as a triangle, with fuels, climate, and the built environment representing the three points. “We’re definitely on the built environment, climate side of that triangle for these particular fires around Los Angeles,” Hurteau explained, meaning that the wildland-urban interface combined with drought and winds are the primary culprits. But in more heavily forested, mountainous areas of Northern California, “you get the climate and fuels side of the triangle,” Hurteau said.
Embers can travel impressive distances in the wind, as evidenced by footage of past fires jumping expansive freeways in Southern California. So, as Hurteau put it, “short of mowing whole hillsides down to nothing and keeping them that way,” there’s little vegetation management work to be done at the wildland-urban interface, where houses bump up against undeveloped lands.
Not everyone agrees, though. When I spoke to Susan Prichard, a fire ecologist and research scientist at the University of Washington School of Environmental and Forest Sciences, she told me that while prescribed burns close to suburban areas can be contentious and challenging, citizens can do a lot on their own to manage fuel risk. “Neighborhoods can come together and do the appropriate fuel reduction in and around their homes, and that makes a huge difference in wildfires,” she told me. “Landscaping in and around homes matters, even if you have 100-mile-an-hour winds with a lot of embers.”
Prichard recommends residents work with their neighbors to remove burnable vegetation and organic waste, and to get rid of so-called “ember traps” such as double fencing that can route fires straight to homes. Prichard pointed to research by Crystal Kolden, a “pyrogeographer” and associate professor at the University of California Merced, whose work focuses on understanding wildfire intersections with the human environment. Kolden has argued that proper vegetation management could have greatly lessened the impact of the L.A. fires. As she recently wrote on Bluesky, “These places will see fire again. I have no doubt. But I also know that you can rebuild and manage the land so that next time the houses won’t burn down. I’ve seen it work.”
Keeley pointed to the 2017 Thomas Fire in Ventura and Santa Barbara Counties, however, as an example of the futility of firebreaks and prescribed burns in extreme situations. That fire also ignited outside of what’s normally considered fire season, in December. “There were thousands of acres that had been prescribed burned near the eastern edge of that fire perimeter in the decade prior to ignition,” Keeley explained to Emily. “Once that fire was ignited, the winds were so powerful it just blew the embers right across the prescribed burn area and resulted in one of the largest wildfires that we’ve had in Southern California.”
Kolden, however, reads the Thomas Fire as a more optimistic story. As she wrote in a case report on the fire published in 2019, “Despite the extreme wind conditions and interviewee estimates of potentially hundreds of homes being consumed, only seven primary residences were destroyed by the Thomas Fire, and firefighters indicated that pre-fire mitigation activities played a clear, central role in the outcomes observed.” While the paper didn’t focus on controlled burns, mitigation activities discussed include reducing vegetation around homes and roads, as well as common-sense actions such as increasing community planning and preparedness, public education around fire safety, and arguably most importantly, adopting and enforcing fire-resistant building codes.
So while blaming decades of forestry mismanagement for major fires is frequently accurate, in Southern California the villains in this narrative can be trickier to pin down. Is it the fault of the winds? The droughts? The humans who want to live in beautiful but acutely fire-prone areas? The planning agencies that allow people to fulfill those risky dreams?
Prichard still maintains that counties and the state government can be doing a whole lot more to encourage fuel reduction. “That might not be prescribed burning, that might actually be ongoing mastication of some of the really big chaparral, so that it’s not possible for really tall, developed, even senescent vegetation — meaning having a lot of dead material in it — to burn that big right next to homes.”
From Hurteau’s perspective though, far and away the most effective solution would be simply building structures to be much more fire-resilient than they are today. “Society has chosen to build into a very flammable environment,” Hurteau put it. California’s population has increased over 160% since the 1950’s, far outpacing the country overall and pushing development further and further out into areas that border forests, chaparral, and grasslands. “As people rebuild after what’s going to be great tragedy, how do you re-envision the built environment so that this becomes less likely to occur in the future?”
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
The House budget bill may have kept the 45Q tax credit, but nixing transferability makes it decidedly less useful.
Very few of the Inflation Reduction Act’s tax credits made it through the House’s recently passed budget bill unscathed. One of the apparently lucky ones, however, was the 45Q credit for carbon capture projects. This provides up to $180 per metric ton for direct air capture and $85 for carbon captured from industrial or power facilities, depending on how the CO2 is subsequently sequestered or put to use in products such as low-carbon aviation fuels or building materials. The latest version of the bill doesn’t change that at all.
But while the preservation of 45Q is undoubtedly good news for the increasing number of projects in this space, carbon capture didn’t escape fully intact. One of the main ways the IRA supercharged tax credits was by making them transferable, turning them into an important financing tool for small or early-stage projects that might not make enough money to owe much — or even anything — in taxes. Being able to sell tax credits on the open market has often been the only way for smaller developers to take advantage of the credits. Now, the House bill will eliminate transferability for all projects that begin construction two years after the bill becomes law.
That’s going to make the economics of an already financially unsteady industry even more difficult. “Especially given the early stage of the direct air capture industry, transferability is really key,” Giana Amador, the executive director of an industry group called the Carbon Removal Alliance, told me. “Without transferability, most DAC companies won’t be able to fully capitalize upon 45Q — which, of course, threatens the viability of these projects.”
We’re not talking about just a few projects, either. We’re talking about the vast majority, Jessie Stolark, the executive director of another industry group, the Carbon Capture Coalition, told me. “The initial reaction is that this is really bad, and would actually cut off at the knees the utility of the 45Q tax credit,” Stolark said. Out of over 270 carbon capture projects announced as of today, Stolark estimates that fewer than 10 will be able to begin construction in the two years before transferability ends.
The alternative to easily transferable tax credits is a type of partnership between a project developer and a tax equity investor such as a bank. In this arrangement, investors give project developers cash in exchange for an equity stake in their project and their tax credit benefits. Deals like this are common in the renewable energy industry, but because they’re legally complicated and expensive, they’re not really viable for companies that aren’t bringing in a lot of revenue.
Because carbon capture is a much younger, and thus riskier technology than renewables, “tax equity markets typically require returns of 30% or greater from carbon capture and direct air capture project developers,” Stolark told me. That’s a much higher rate than tax equity partners typically require for wind or solar projects. “That out of the gate significantly diminishes the tax credit's value.” Taken together with inflation and high interest rates, all this means that “far fewer projects will proceed to construction,” Stolark said.
One DAC company I spoke with, Bay Area-based Noya, said that now that transferability is out, it has been exploring the possibility of forming tax equity partnerships. “We’ve definitely talked to banks that might be interested in getting involved in these kinds of things sooner than they would have otherwise gotten involved, due to the strategic nature of being partnered with companies that are growing fast,” Josh Santos, Noya’s CEO, told me.
It would certainly be a surprise to see banks — which are generally quite risk averse — lining up behind these kinds of new and unproven technologies, especially given that carbon capture doesn’t have much of a natural market. While CO2 can be used for some limited industrial purposes — beverage carbonation, sustainable fuels, low-carbon concrete — the only market for true carbon dioxide removal is the voluntary market, in which companies, governments, or individuals offset their own emissions by paying companies to remove carbon from the atmosphere. So if carbon capture is going to become a thriving, lucrative industry, it’s likely going to be heavily dependent on future government incentives, mandates, or purchasing commitments. And that doesn’t seem likely to happen in the U.S. anytime soon.
Noya, which is attempting to deploy its electrically-powered, modular direct air capture units beginning in 2027, is still planning on building domestically, though. As Santos told me, he’s eyeing California and Texas as promising sites for the company’s first projects. And while he said that the repeal of transferability will certainly “make things more complicated,” it is not enough of a setback for the company to look abroad.
“45Q is a big part of why we are focused on the U.S. mainly as our deployment site,” Santos explained. “We’ve looked at places like Iceland and the Middle East and Africa for potential deployment locations, and the tradeoff of losing 45Q in exchange for a cheaper something has to be significant enough for that to make sense,” he told me — something like more cost efficient electricity, permitting or installation costs. Preserving 45Q, he told me, means Noya’s long-term project economics are still “great for what we’re trying to build.”
But if companies can’t weather the short-term headwinds, they’ll never be able to reach the level of scale and profitability that would allow them to leverage the benefits of the 45Q credits directly. For many DAC companies such as Climeworks, which built the industry’s largest facility in Iceland, Amador and Stolark said that the domestic policy environment is causing hesitation around expanding in the U.S.
“We are very much at risk of losing our US leadership position in the industry,” Stolark told me. Meanwhile, she said that Canada, China, and the EU are developing policies that are making them increasingly attractive places to build.
As Amador put it, “I think no matter what these projects will be built, it’s just a question of whether the United States is the most favorable place for them to be deployed.”
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.