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That’s not an exaggeration, at least by one calculation.

In late March, the board that oversees New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority cast a final vote to implement congestion pricing. If the plan survives some last-ditch lawsuits, drivers will soon have to cough up $15 to travel into Lower Manhattan during rush hours. The MTA will get billions every year to make capital improvements, the air will be markedly cleaner, the streets notably less congested, and a proposal that was first pitched by former Mayor Michael Bloomberg 17 years ago will have finally been realized.
“I often wonder what our system would have been like if we passed it back in 2008,” MTA board member Haeda Mihaltses, a veteran of the Bloomberg administration, mused just before she cast her vote in favor.
The price of nearly two decades of procrastination over doing something to alleviate the most densely-populated, traffic-snarled place in North America is, indeed, unfathomably high. There’s the billions of dollars of mass transit infrastructure we missed out on, the billions spent on health care from breathing in dirty air.
And then there’s the most precious resource of all. According to one calculation from transport economist and congestion pricing advocate Charles Komanoff, the plan the MTA adopted last month will save drivers, bus passengers, and subway riders a combined 225,000 hours every single day. Here’s a fun thought experiment: If New York had adopted this plan back in 2008, we could have saved ourselves a combined 1,314,000,000 hours, or 150,000 years.
How could implementing something so obviously necessary and routine — anyone who has paid to camp in a National Park or drive on the New Jersey Turnpike understands the concept — take so long? What does it say about how we govern? And what can we learn from it?
“I think it is fair to say that whatever roadblock congestion pricing could have hit, it hit,” Rachael Fauss, a policy director and MTA researcher for the good government group Reinvent Albany, told me. “It was the worst case scenario of timelines if you were to project out: What are the things that could delay this?”
Some of the delays were deliberate: It’s hard enough for lawmakers to summon the courage to raise taxes on millionaires and billionaires, so charging drivers money for something that used to be “free,” to fund a transit agency that often conjures delayed trains and decades-long boondoggles in the public’s imagination, was always going to require a fortitude that is in chronically short supply in Albany. When then-New York Governor Andrew Cuomo pushed to pass congestion pricing in 2019, he and his fellow lawmakers wrote into the actual bill that the tolling scheme couldn’t be announced for a year and a half — until after the 2020 election. The same politicians who were supposedly brave enough to vote congestion pricing into law didn’t want anything to do with putting that law into practice.
Then there were the bureaucratic delays. The COVID pandemic, of course, redirected much of the government and forced the MTA into survival mode as subway ridership dropped 90%; suddenly the agency’s most important work was to coordinate lifesaving bailouts from the federal and state governments. Then the Trump administration slow-walked the answer to a key question: Because the congestion pricing plan involved placing tolls on roads built with federal funding, the state needed a sign-off from the federal Department of Transportation. But was congestion pricing the kind of massive infrastructure project that, under the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969, required an exhaustive Environmental Impact Statement? Could it pass NEPA review with a less thorough Environmental Assessment? Or, given that nothing was actually being built up or torn down, could it be exempt from these reviews altogether?
Two years after the congestion pricing law passed, and months after the plan was supposed to go into effect in early 2021, the newly installed Biden administration finally asked for the middle option, an Environmental Assessment, which the MTA initially said could be done in a matter of months. In actuality, that timeline stretched to 16 months and produced a 4,000-page behemoth that some experts noted was more comprehensive than the average EIS.
Seemingly nothing escaped the MTA’s scrutiny — it even looked at how congestion pricing would affect traffic in the Philadelphia suburbs (not all that much). The results were not exactly shocking: Tolling vehicles entering Lower Manhattan below 60th Street would result in up to 20% fewer vehicles in the Central Business District, improving air quality while also generating $1 billion in revenue for public transit, which could then be used to secure up to $15 billion in bonds. After more than 50 public meetings and 25,000 written comments (60% in favor of the plan), the Biden administration produced a “finding of no significant impact,” meaning that congestion pricing wouldn’t negatively affect the economy, the environment, or the roads.
There was at least one notable benefit that came from doing such a comprehensive, time-intensive review: The MTA found that congestion pricing could cause an increase in truck traffic to the South Bronx for drivers looking to toll shop, which in turn prompted the agency to allocate $200 million to alleviate pollution in some of New York City’s poorest neighborhoods, which have shamefully high asthma rates that mostly affect Black and Latine New Yorkers. “Is it congestion pricing’s job to remedy those problems? Maybe not,” Fauss, of Reinvent Albany, said. “But is it a really important way to correct some past wrongs? Yeah, absolutely.”
The MTA’s thoroughness may help protect it from the bad faith lawsuits that have been filed to try and shut down the license plate readers before they go live on June 15. But we’re in the midst of a climate crisis. Why should a 54-year-old law designed to prevent overeager developers from doing things like demolishing neighborhoods to build highways discourage cities and states from enacting dynamic, flexible solutions to cut pollution created by those highways — and fund public transit at the same time? And why should a review of a plan that requires no concrete, no demolition — no actual infrastructure — take three years?
The biggest hurdle congestion pricing had to overcome might have been psychological. Let’s call it "car brain": Even though 85% of commuters who travel into the Central Business District take mass transit, for years, lawmakers and congestion pricing opponents have argued (and in the case of the current New York City Mayor Eric Adams, still argue) that charging people to drive into Lower Manhattan was a kind of attack on the middle class. In a city where valuable street real estate has been converted into free parking, congestion pricing was portrayed as profaning the sacred rights of "regular" New Yorkers — never mind the fact that just 2% of New York’s working poor will end up paying the tolls. Driving your car wherever you please, it turns out, is quite expensive.
“Elected officials are facing the world from the front seat of a car, whether they’re driving or being driven,” Danny Pearlstein, the policy and communications director at Riders Alliance, one of the most forceful proponents of congestion pricing, told me. Pearlstein added that “bureaucrats who drive to work” probably contributed to the Biden administration’s slow-walking of the approval process, or so he suspects. “They were very cautious about doing something that alters not just, you know, air patterns, or patterns of inequity, but actual commutes,” Pearlstein said.
As a reporter who has covered congestion pricing for nearly a decade, I have learned never to underestimate the power of “car brain” on public policy. As a New Yorker who lives steps from the entrance of the Williamsburg Bridge on the Lower East Side, who watches mothers push strollers through oceans of hot, heavy steel boxes belching poisonous gasses driven by people on a hair trigger, and who has seen our leaders pretend that this is New York, that we are too exceptional to change, I cannot help but go about my day, doing my best to tune out the incessant honking, feeling like the dog engulfed in flames: “This is fine.”
That it took transportation advocates, regional planners, and forward-looking politicians nearly 20 years to enact congestion pricing in New York City — the U.S. municipality perhaps most amenable to it because of its housing density and excellent mass transit system — reveals the daunting task of weaning Americans off the automobile. More than three-quarters of us drive our own personal cars to our jobs.
“The only thing that’s going to change the fact that the overwhelming majority of Americans drive to work is not permitting reforms to programs like congestion pricing. It’s permitting reforms to allow dense housing development in metropolitan areas across the country,” Pearlstein said.
“It’s a little bit like a Marxian analysis,” he mused. The crisis must come to a head in order to overthrow the status quo. “In order to adopt congestion pricing, you first have to exacerbate congestion significantly by condensing your built environment.”
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The Trump administration’s rollback of coal plant emissions standards means that mercury is on the menu again.
It started with the cats. In the seaside town of Minamata, on the west coast of the most southerly of Japan’s main islands, Kyushu, the cats seemed to have gone mad — convulsing, twirling, drooling, and even jumping into the ocean in what looked like suicides. Locals started referring to “dancing cat fever.” Then the symptoms began to appear in their newborns and children.
Now, nearly 70 years later, Minimata is a cautionary tale of industrial greed and its consequences. Dancing cat fever and “Minamata disease” were both the outward effects of severe mercury poisoning, caused by a local chemical company dumping methylmercury waste into the local bay. Between the first recognized case in 1956 and 2001, more than 2,200 people were recognized as victims of the pollution, which entered the population through their seafood-heavy diets. Mercury is a bioaccumulator, meaning it builds up in the tissues of organisms as it moves up the food chain from contaminated water to shellfish to small fish to apex predators: Tuna. Cats. People.
In 2013, 140 countries, including the U.S., joined the Minamata Convention, pledging to learn from the mistakes of the past and to control the release of mercury into the environment. That included, explicitly, mercury in emissions from “coal-fired power plants.” Last month, however, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency retreated from the convention by abandoning the 2024 Mercury and Air Toxics Standards, which had reduced allowable mercury pollution from coal-fired plants by as much as 90%. Nearly all of the 219 operating coal-fired plants in the U.S. already meet the previous, looser standard, set in 2012; Trump’s EPA has argued that returning to the older rules will save Americans $670 million in regulatory compliance costs by 2037.
The rollback — while not a surprise from an administration that has long fetishized coal — came as a source of immense frustration to scientists, biologists, and activists who’ve dedicated their careers to highlighting the dangers of environmental contaminants. Nearly all human exposure to methylmercury in the United States comes from eating seafood, according to the EPA, and it’s well-documented that adding more mercury to the atmosphere will increase levels in fish, even those caught far from fenceline communities.
“Mercury is an extremely toxic metal,” Nicholas Fisher, an expert in marine pollution at Stony Brook University, told me. “It’s probably among the most toxic of all the metals, and it’s been known for centuries.” In his opinion, it’s unthinkable that there is still any question of mercury regulations making Americans safer.
Gabriel Filippelli, the executive director of the Indiana University Environmental Resilience Institute, concurred. “Mercury is not a trivial pollutant,” he told me. “Elevated mercury levels cost millions of IQ points across the country.” The EPA rollback “actually costs people brain power.”
When coal burns in a power plant, it releases mercury into the air, where it can travel great distances and eventually end up in the water. “There is no such thing as a local mercury problem,” Filippelli said. He recalled a 2011 study that looked at Indianapolis Power & Light, a former coal plant that has since transitioned to natural gas, in which his team found “a huge plume of mercury in solids downwind” of the plant, as well as in nearby rivers that were “transporting it tens of kilometers away into places where people fish and eat what they catch.”
Earthworms and small aquatic organisms convert mercury in soils and runoff into methylmercury, a highly toxic form that presents the most danger to people, children, and the fetuses of pregnant women as it moves up the food chain. Though about 70% of mercury deposited in the United States comes from outside the country — China, for example, is the second-greatest source of mercury in the Great Lakes Basin after the U.S., per the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration — that still leaves a significant chunk of pollution under the EPA’s control.
There is, in theory, another line of defense beyond the EPA. For recreational fishers, of whom there are nearly 60 million in the country each year, state-level advisories on which waterways are safe to fish in based on tests of methylmercury concentrations in the fish help guide decisions about what is safe to eat. Oregon, for example, advises that people not eat more than one “resident fish,” such as bass, walleye, and carp, caught from the Columbia River per week — and not eat any other seafood during that time, either. Forty-nine states have some such advisories in place; the only state that doesn’t, coal-friendly Wyoming, has refused to test its fish. One also imagines that safe waterways will start to become more limited if the coal-powered plants the Trump administration is propping up forgo the expensive equipment necessary to scrub their emissions of heavy metals.
“It’s not something where you’re going to see a dramatic change overnight,” Tasha Stoiber, a senior scientist with the Environmental Working Group, a research and advocacy nonprofit that focuses on toxic chemicals, told me. “But depending on the water body that you’re fishing in, you want to seek out state advisories.”
For people who prefer to buy their fish at the store, the Food and Drug Administration sets limits on the amount of mercury allowed in commercial seafood. But Kevin McCay, the chief operations officer at the seafood company Safe Catch, told me the FDA’s limit of 1 part per million for methylmercury is outrageously high compared with limits in the European Union and Japan. “It has to be glowing red before the FDA is actually going to do anything,” he said. (Watchdog groups have likewise warned that the hemorrhaging of civil servants from the FDA will have downstream consequences for food safety.)
McCay also told me that he “certainly” expects mercury levels in the fish to rise due to the EPA’s decision. Unlike other canned tuna companies that test batches of fish, Safe Catch drills a small test hole in every fish it buys to ensure the mercury content is well below the FDA’s limits. (Fish that are lower on the food chain, like salmon, are the safest choices, while fish at the top of the food chain, like tuna, sharks, and swordfish, are the worst.)
The obsessive oversight gives the company a front-seat view of where and how methylmercury is working its way up the food chain, and McCay worries his company could face more limited sourcing options in the coming years if policies remain friendly to coal. (An independent investigation by Consumer Reports in 2023 found that even fish sourced by an ultra-cautious company like Safe Catch contain some level of mercury. “There’s probably no actual safe amount,” McCay told me, recommending that customers should eat a diverse range of seafood to limit exposure.)
Even people who don’t eat fish should be concerned, though. That’s because, as Filippelli told me, “a lot of [contaminated] fish meal is being incorporated into pet food.”
There are no regulatory standards for mercury in pet foods. But avoiding mercury is not as simple as bypassing the tuna-flavored kibble, Sarrah M. Dunham-Cheatham, who authored a 2019 study on mercury in pet food, told me. Even many brands that don’t list fish among their ingredients contain fish meal that is high in mercury, she said.
Different species also have different sensitivities to mercury, with chimpanzees and cats being among the most sensitive. “I don’t want to be alarmist or scare people,” Dunham-Cheatham said. But because of the issues with labeling pet food, there isn’t much to be done to limit mercury intake in your pets — that is, short of dealing with the emissions on local and planetary scales. “We’re expecting there to be more emissions to the atmosphere, more deposition to aquatic environments, and therefore more mercury accumulated into proteins that will go into making the pet foods,” she said.
To Fisher, the Stony Brook professor, the Trump administration’s decision to walk back mercury restrictions makes no sense at all. The Ancient Romans understood the dangers of mercury; the dancing cats of Minamata are now seven decades behind us. “Why should we make the underlying assumption that the mercury is innocent until proven guilty?” he said.
On Qatari aluminum, floating offshore wind, and Taiwanese nuclear
Current conditions: Upstate New York and New England are facing another 2 inches of snow • A heat wave in India is sending temperatures in Gujarat beyond 100 degrees Fahrenheit • Record-breaking rain is causing flash flooding in South Australia, New South Wales, and Victoria.
The war with Iran is shocking oil and natural gas prices as the Strait of Hormuz effectively closes and Americans start paying more at the pump. “So despite the stock market overall being down, clean energy companies’ shares are soaring, right?” Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote yesterday. “Wrong. First Solar: down over 1% on the day. Enphase: down over 3%. Sunrun: down almost 8%; Tesla: down around 2.5%.” What’s behind the slump? Matthew identified three reasons. First, there was a general selloff in the market. Second, supply chain disruptions could lead to inflation, which might lead to higher interest rates, or at the very least slow the planned cycle of cuts. Third, governments may end up trying “to mitigate spiking fuel prices by subsidizing fossil fuels and locking in supply contracts to reinforce their countries’ energy supplies,” meaning renewables “may thereby lose out on investment that might more logically flow their way.”
The U.S. liquified natural gas industry is certainly looking at boom times. U.S. developers signed sale and purchase agreements for 40 million tons per year in 2025 from planned export facilities, according to new Department of Energy data the Energy Information Administration posted. That’s the highest volume since 2022, when Russia’s invasion of Ukraine sent demand for American LNG soaring. That conflict, too, is still having its effects on global fossil fuel supplies. A Russian-flagged LNG tanker is on fire in the Mediterranean Sea as the result of a drone strike by Ukraine, The Independent reported Wednesday.
It’s not just fossil fuels. Qatari smelter Qatalum started shutting down on Tuesday as 50% shareholder Norsk Hydro issued a force majeure notice to customers. “The decision to shut down was made after the company’s gas supplier informed it of a forthcoming suspension of its gas supply,” the company said in a statement to Mining.com. QatarEnergy — which owns 51% of Qatalum’s other shareholder, Qatar Aluminum Manufacturing Co. — had previously suspended production after halting output of natural gas due to Iranian drone attacks.
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Panel manufacturer Silfab Solar paused production at its South Carolina factory in Fort Mill after a chemical spill triggered a regulatory investigation. The plant accidentally spilled approximately 300 gallons of a water solution containing less than 0.3% potassium hydroxide. Experts told WCNC, the Charlotte-area NBC News affiliate, that the volume of the caustic chemical that spilled will be harmless. But the state Department of Environmental Services “asked Silfab to cease receipt of additional chemicals at their facility until an investigation is complete.” Such accidents risk political backlash at a time of heightened public health anxiety over clean energy technologies. As Heatmap’s Jael Holzman wrote last summer, the Moss Landing battery factory fire sparked a nationwide backlash.
Two-thirds of offshore wind potential is located at sites where the water is too deep for traditional turbine platforms. But the first wind farm with floating platforms only came into operation nine years ago. The largest so far, located in Norway’s stretch of the North Sea, is just under 100 megawatts. So, if completed, Spanish developer Ocean Winds’ in the United Kingdom would be by far the largest plant. The company took a step forward on the 1.5-gigawatt project when the company signed the lease agreement this week, according to OffshoreWIND.biz.
In Denmark, meanwhile, right-wing politicians are campaigning against the country’s offshore wind giant, Orsted. The country’s conservative Liberal party campaigned on divesting from the company, which claims the Danish government as its largest shareholder, back in 2022. Now, Bloomberg reported, the party is once against renewing its calls to exit Orsted after this year’s election.

Facing surging electricity demand and mounting threats of blackouts from Chinese attacks on energy imports, Taiwan is taking yet another step toward reversing its nuclear phaseout. Nearly a year after the island nation’s last reactor shut down, Taiwanese Premier Cho Jung-tai, a member of the ruling Democratic Progressive Party that has long opposed atomic energy, announced new proposals to allow the state-owned Taiwan Power Company to submit plans to restart at least two of the country’s three shuttered nuclear stations. (A fourth plant, called Lungmen, was nearly completed in the late 2010s before the DPP government canceled its construction.) The government report also said Taiwan may consider building new nuclear technologies, such as small modular reactors or fusion plants.
In June 2023, thousands of lightning strikes in heat wave-baked Quebec sparked more than 120 wildfires that ultimately scorched nearly 7,000 acres of parched forests. Lightning, in fact, starts almost 60% of wildfires. Now a Vancouver-based weather modification startup called Skyward Wildfire says it can prevent catastrophic blazes by stopping lightning strikes through cloud seeding. MIT Technology Review found some good reasons to doubt the company’s claims. But experts said preventing wildfires is cheaper than putting them out, so it may have some merit.
The attacks on Iran have not redounded to renewables’ benefit. Here are three reasons why.
The fragility of the global fossil fuel complex has been put on full display. The Strait of Hormuz has been effectively closed, causing a shock to oil and natural gas prices, putting fuel supplies from Incheon to Karachi at risk. American drivers are already paying more at the pump, despite the United States’s much-vaunted energy independence. Never has the case for a transition to renewable energy been more urgent, clear, and necessary.
So despite the stock market overall being down, clean energy companies’ shares are soaring, right?
Wrong.
First Solar: down over 1% on the day. Enphase: down over 3%. Sunrun: down almost 8%; Tesla: down around 2.5%.
Why the slump? There are a few big reasons:
Several analysts described the market action today as “risk-off,” where traders sell almost anything to raise cash. Even safe haven assets like U.S. Treasuries sold off earlier today while the U.S. dollar strengthened.
“A lot of things that worked well recently, they’re taking a big beating,” Gautam Jain, a senior research scholar at the Columbia University Center on Global Energy Policy, told me. “It’s mostly risk aversion.”
Several trackers of clean energy stocks, including the S&P Global Clean Energy Transition Index (down 3% today) or the iShares Global Clean Energy ETF (down over 3%) have actually outperformed the broader market so far this year, making them potentially attractive to sell off for cash.
And some clean energy stocks are just volatile and tend to magnify broader market movements. The iShares Global Clean Energy ETF has a beta — a measure of how a stock’s movements compare with the overall market — higher than 1, which means it has tended to move more than the market up or down.
Then there’s the actual news. After President Trump announced Tuesday afternoon that the United States Development Finance Corporation would be insuring maritime trade “for a very reasonable price,” and that “if necessary” the U.S. would escort ships through the Strait of Hormuz, the overall market picked up slightly and oil prices dropped.
It’s often said that what makes renewables so special is that they don’t rely on fuel. The sun or the wind can’t be trapped in a Middle Eastern strait because insurers refuse to cover the boats it arrives on.
But what renewables do need is cash. The overwhelming share of the lifetime expense of a renewable project is upfront capital expenditure, not ongoing operational expenditures like fuel. This makes renewables very sensitive to interest rates because they rely on borrowed money to get built. If snarled supply chains translate to higher inflation, that could send interest rates higher, or at the very least delay expected interest rate cuts from central banks.
Sustained inflation due to high energy prices “likely pushes interest rate cuts out,” Jain told me, which means higher costs for renewables projects.
While in the long run it may make sense to respond to an oil or natural gas supply shock by diversifying your energy supply into renewables, political leaders often opt to try to maintain stability, even if it’s very expensive.
“The moment you start thinking about energy security, renewables jump up as a priority,” Jain said. “Most countries realize how important it is to be independent of the global supply chain. In the long term it works in favor of renewables. The problem is the short term.”
In the short term, governments often try to mitigate spiking fuel prices by subsidizing fossil fuels and locking in supply contracts to reinforce their countries’ energy supplies. Renewables may thereby lose out on investment that might more logically flow their way.
The other issue is that the same fractured supply chain that drives up oil and gas prices also affects renewables, which are still often dependent on imports for components. “Freight costs go up,” Jain said. “That impacts clean energy industry more.”
As for the Strait of Hormuz, Trump said the Navy would start escorting ships “as soon as possible.”