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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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Current conditions: South Korea’s heat wave has killed at least 16 people after the southeastern city of Yangsan recorded an all-time national temperature high of nearly 109 degrees Fahrenheit • Washington authorities arrested a man suspected of arson as the Pacific Northwest state struggles to contain wildfires around Spokane • Typhoon Dolphin intensified into a Category 4 storm as it barrels toward southern Japan, where the ongoing heat wave has killed three female lions at a Tokyo zoo.
The United States could reach a deal with Iran as early as today to reopen the Strait of Hormuz to commercial shipping, Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent said. When asked during a Tuesday appearance on CNBC whether the agreement would allow Tehran to charge a toll to oil tankers, Bessent said the pact would include “freedom of movement.”
The announcement came as President Donald Trump faced a particularly grim economic milestone. Thanks to inflation from the Iran War, the price per gallon of diesel in the U.S. has averaged $4.09 since Trump returned to office in January 2025, according to a Financial Times analysis of Energy Information Administration data. That compares to $4.08 during Biden’s four years in office, when the Ukraine war triggered a price shock on diesel.
When the Trump administration brokered an $80 billion deal to support construction of at least 10 more Westinghouse AP1000 reactors in the U.S., the agreement came with a measure that would allow the federal government to request that the company’s owners offer shares of the legendary developer behind much of the American nuclear fleet on the stock market. It now appears that won’t be necessary. Last week, Westinghouse, a co-venture between Canadian uranium giant Cameco and Toronto-headquartered investment giant Brookfield, filed confidential paperwork with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, laying the groundwork for a possible IPO.
The move came just two weeks after Holtec International, another long-standing stalwart in the industry that’s looking to play a central role in the next U.S. reactor buildout, filed its own S-1 paperwork with the SEC. At present, retail investors have limited options to bet on the nuclear renaissance. Startups such as X-energy, Oklo, and Hadron Energy — none of which has yet built a reactor or won Nuclear Regulatory Commission approval of its design — have dominated the market. Established firms such as the nuclear utility Constellation Energy, fuel maker Centrus Energy, and GE Vernova, whose joint venture with Japanese conglomerate Hitachi is a leading reactor developer, have also benefited. But Westinghouse and Holtec would be among the most serious “pure play” contenders on the market with real balance sheets.
British Prime Minister Andy Burnham took power last month after Labour leader Keir Starmer stepped down amid plummeting support within his own party, clearing the way for the populist former Manchester mayor’s democratic socialist reforms. Among the changes Burnham is expected to make on energy is giving the government an even greater role in developing fusion energy. “Because Burnham is committed to greater public control over utilities like energy, but within existing fiscal rules, his impact on fusion is likely to be about governance and ownership structures — for example stronger public or community stakes in fusion projects and more explicit links to regional development — rather than changing the headline national targets for fusion deployment themselves,” analyst Michael Heumann wrote in The Fusion Report.
It’s the type of intervention for which Japan’s fusion industry is pining. As you may recall, Japan’s conservative new “Iron Lady” Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi is going all in on reviving her country’s nuclear industry. But the FT reports that Japan’s fusion industry is now lobbying for more government support to get off the ground.
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Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia Offshore Wind project is progressing toward coming online by the end of next year. The timeline for the 2.6-gigawatt facility off Virginia’s shores to install its 176th and final turbine pushes back the start date from early 2027. But Dominion said the schedule “reflects additional contingency for weather, vessel maintenance, loadout operations, and extended jacking activities, rather than changes to the base turbine installation rate, which has been two days per turbine so far,” according to offshoreWIND.biz. The update comes after Trump conceded defeat in his battle to use the Department of Justice to wrestle back federal permits issued to offshore wind projects under the previous administration, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo wrote in June.
On Tuesday evening, meanwhile, 10 judges on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit upheld an earlier injunction that said the Environmental Protection Agency could not cancel $20 billion in climate grants, ruling in a split decision that recipients should have access to the funds.
Renewables made up 54.1% of Spain’s electricity generation in July — and it’s even higher when you count Spaniards who generated solar at home for self-consumption. That’s according to the latest data the national grid operator Red Electric de España published Tuesday. Generation from renewables surged nearly 6% year-over-year to a record 14,699 gigawatt-hours last month, according to Renewables Now. Solar made up by far the largest share for the fourth consecutive month, accounting for more than 28% of the mix in July.

I’m always fascinated by the parallels between Cuba and Puerto Rico, which — despite shared colonial histories and struggles — took divergent paths in the mid-20th Century, only to both end up with aging grids that can’t keep the lights on. I was reminded of conversations I have had with Boricuas who have spent nights sleeping on balconies and porches when the electricity is out, leaving air conditioners and fans idled on hot nights. In Cuba, that’s now happening en masse as the summer heat collides with the ongoing U.S. oil embargo. “Things are only getting worse. Tomorrow it’ll collapse again ... and we’ll be back to sleeping on the Malecón,” Alexey Ríos García told the Associated Press as he used a piece of yellow foam as a pillow to cushion his head from the tough concrete.
What’s next for electric cars? There’s no consensus.
Here’s the good news on electric cars in America: Sales in the second quarter of 2026 rose by 14% compared to the first quarter, which itself was an improvement on the preceding quarter. And here’s the bad: Even those good-looking Q2 sales numbers this year represent a 20% decrease from the same period in 2025.
Welcome to a confused moment in EV history. Electric vehicle sales in this country grew at a decent rate through the early part of the 2020s — right up until they fell off a cliff last fall when the federal tax credit disappeared and cars became $7,500 more expensive overnight. EVs have begun to recover in the intervening months, especially as Americans look for some respite from high gas prices. Yet the lineup of available EVs for them to purchase has been weakened by endless volatility. Car companies struggle to keep up with Chinese competitors abroad and the Trump administration’s relentless attacks on electric vehicles here. Meanwhile, EV makers have shifting visions of what they want electric cars to be.
In the long run, nothing has changed. The automotive industry is headed in one direction: toward a future dominated by battery-powered electric vehicles. But in the short run, even as EVs are setting sales records in dozens of countries and approaching 30% of the global car fleet, it feels like everyone involved in trying to sell EVs to Americans is driving in a different direction.
Just take a quick accounting of the players. At the start of the decade, Ford pinned its hopes on the F-150 Lightning pickup truck and the Mustang Mach-E, but never figured out how not to lose money on them. Last year, the company then blew up plans for its second-generation EV to go back to the drawing board. It stood up a skunkworks team at a far-flung California factory to learn how to slash manufacturing costs and make a mid-size electric truck in the $30,000s, set to emerge from the shadows next year.
Its Detroit rival, GM, looked to be in better shape. It bet its battery-powered fortunes on the Ultium platform that would underpin many vehicles across its lineup. In doing so, it rolled out a more ambitious lineup than Ford: Not just the Chevy Silverado, Blazer, Equinox, and Bolt, but several well-received Cadillac models that breathed some life into that atrophying brand.
In 2024, GM phased out the Ultium name, seemingly to make room for the next-generation architecture to follow. And then things started to get a little rocky. The Chevy Bolt, a hero of the late 2010s era of EVs, returned just in time to be canceled so GM could build more gas-guzzling Buick crossovers. General Motors is now stuck in a wait-and-see on battery power. It may update its existing EVs, particularly the Equinox, but reportedly has no plans to expand its electric offerings until at least 2030 — when, perhaps, some of the dust of the Trump presidency has settled.
GM’s fortunes look rosy next to those of Stellantis, the global giant that owns car brands like Jeep, Dodge, Chrysler, and Ram. Like competitors Ford and GM, Stellantis has had to take on eight-figure losses as it rejiggers its business to try to compete in the electric future. But unlike the Detroit duo, it has no particular success story even to hang its hat upon. Jeep EVs have been a struggle, and the planned Ram EV pickup never even saw the light of day. Now the great electric hope for pickup trucks is the planned Ram extended-range EV, a truck that would carry a gasoline engine simply to act as an onboard generator that recharges the battery.
Among Japan’s legacy automakers, the surprising insurgent is Toyota. The world’s biggest car company has been perhaps the most openly skeptical of electrification, with leadership arguing time and again against the economic feasibility of electric cars. Public statements make it sounds as if the company is being dragged away from the combustion age against its will. And yet, as the other car companies drift into limbo amid the chaotic current market, here is Toyota, slowly building up something rather than shifting its plans every couple of years.
Though its first true EV, the bZ4x, wasn’t up the standard of today’s best EVs, Toyota has stormed into 2026 with an improved version, the bZ, plus a revival of the C-HR small crossover in fully electric form. Toyota is in the midst of electrifying the Highlander SUV and even rolled out a concept car to tease a battery-powered makeover of the iconic Toyota Corolla. While the rest of the industry retreats from EVs to formulate a new plan, Toyota chose this moment to dive in headfirst. The same is true of its frequent design partner, Subaru, which has finally introduced multiple EVs to join the race.
Compare that with the turmoil at rival Honda. Like Subaru, it borrowed technology to accelerate its entry into the U.S. EV race — in Honda’s case, building the Prologue crossover on GM’s Ultium system. The company put several new EVs in the pipeline that would be Hondas from the ground up. Earlier this year, it killed them all, with leadership convinced its efforts just couldn’t compete, especially in non-U.S. markets where it would go up against the dirt-cheap offerings coming out of China.
Then, of course, there’s Tesla. Elon Musk’s brand is suddenly thriving again, thanks in large part to the vacuum created by the rest of the industry. Tesla, for all its bad press in some corners of the internet, still makes up more than half of EV sales in America, and the numbers soared in Q2 in spite of everything that’s been going on with Musk and his company (his focus on everything else that’s not human-driven cars, his political misadventures, and his reliance on just two aging car models, just to name a few issues).
That legacy car companies have stalled and flip-flopped on electrification as the political winds have changed has left the door open for the other EV-only startups. Rivian’s much-ballyhooed R2 arrived this summer and is off to an excellent start on its mission to make that company mainstream. Slate has finally taken the cover off its affordable electric small pickup. Lucid has been dogged by bankruptcy rumors as it tries to cross the startup’s valley of death, but for now, it’s still chugging.
With the car industry so scattered and disparate on its electrification efforts, it’s hard to know quite what to make of things. We’re a long way from the go-go Biden era, when government incentives for EV production gave automakers the confidence to make proclamations about going fully electric. Back then, it felt like we might be on the cusp of seeing an EV version of just about everything. Now it feels like the United States government is fighting another losing war — this one trying to singlehandedly save petroleum power while the rest of the world moves on.
Electric cars came to America slowly, and then fast. After decades of science experiments and sci-fi promises and Who Killed the Electric Car?, EVs gained a foothold remarkably quickly after the rise of Tesla. Millions of Americans now own one. But the leap from early adoption to mass adoption — which was first delayed by factors like high prices and unease with new technology — has been further forestalled by an antagonistic administration and an industry flailing about it keep up with its whims.
Electrification is coming. But this lull isn’t going away anytime soon.
There‘s a striking amount of agreement across the political system about what the big issues are.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
The country's fastest-growing market for data centers is, for now, frozen. Governor Greg Abbott of Texas announced on Monday that the state’s grid authority should not allow any more data centers to hook up until state regulatory agencies complete an audit of existing projects.
As part of this audit, data center developers will have to disclose the following, according to the governor:
“Any data center project that fails to comply” with the audit “must be denied,” Abbott wrote in a letter to the agencies.
Abbott's freeze isn't quite broad enough to be called a full-on moratorium. As The Texas Tribune noted, data centers that aren’t asking to connect to Texas’ power grid can proceed as planned. But the announcement does mean New York is no longer the only state where the governor is trying to slow down data center development. As my colleague Alexander Kaufman wrote today in Heatmap AM, Texas’s governor has more than a little in common with New York’s chief executive, Kathy Hochul — above all, they’re both running for re-election in November.
Now, as far as data center regulation goes, Abbott's disclosure requirements are pretty weak tea. That’s chiefly because they are, well, disclosure requirements — they don't require that any developer actually changes their behavior, just that they publish data saying what they were going to do in the first place.
Yet his announcement put me in mind of something I've been thinking about for a while: There might be more agreement about data center regulation than we think.
Take Michigan, for instance. The progressive Senate candidate in that state, Abdul El-Sayed (who could very likely win the Democratic primary tonight), has become prominent partly by speaking out about data centers. He was early to the topic, publishing mandatory “terms of engagement” for data center developers back in January, and his own rise has tracked the issue’s rising salience in American politics.
Some of El-Sayed’s recent remarks about data centers have an undertone of surprise, as if he is a little astounded by how prominent the issue has become. “There’s literally not a conversation that I have, not a stop that I make, where data centers and AI don’t come up,” he said last month. As he recently marveled on a campaign stop last week: “People really effing hate data centers.”
He hasn't called for a national data center moratorium, though, as his allies and endorsers Senator Bernie Sanders or Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have. Instead, his blessedly short document says Michiganders should have a few “rights” when a data center wants to build in their community:
He’s also called for an end to tax breaks for data centers.
El-Sayed is on the Democratic Party's left. Earlier today, a candidate seen as in the party’s center — Iowa gubernatorial candidate Rob Sand — released his own data center plan. It demands the following, at somewhat greater length:
Look — it’s pretty similar to El-Sayed’s list! Sand might be a moderate, and El-Sayed might be a progressive, but it’s hard to see too much daylight between their data center policies.
What’s notable about these policies is what’s not in them. Neither El-Sayed nor Sand would require that data centers be powered by clean energy, as, say, the Wisconsin DSA gubernatorial candidate Francesca Hong has proposed. Neither El-Sayed nor Sand moots a statewide moratorium on data centers, either. And while their proposals would have more teeth, in theory, than Abbott’s audit, the three proposals are interested in the same questions — energy use, water use, physical footprint, and tax incentives.
As we’ve frequently noted at Heatmap, the data center backlash is strikingly bipartisan. Americans of many backgrounds, belief systems, and byways of life agree that the data center boom is becoming a problem. I wonder if there’s more agreement about the solution, too, than we might think.