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They’re often people of color, young, and from the Northeast.

We are living in the Age of the Big Yikes.
Climate change is widely accepted as both real and happening now. Many Americans hear news about global warming at least once a week and though projections aren’t as dire as they once were, they’re still extremely not great. Half of Americans have been “personally affected” by climate change, and of those, 54% say they have experienced a “reduced quality of life due to weather extremes,” a recent survey of 1,000 U.S. adults by Heatmap and Benenson Strategy Group found. Overall, two-thirds of Americans (65%) worry about what climate change will mean for them personally — a common anxiety that the Los Angeles Times has deemed “a normal response to an abnormal situation.”
A smaller but still substantial subset of Americans — around 15% — further self-identifies as having mental health problems stemming from the effects of climate change, including “anxiety and stress” about current and future events, PTSD, depression, substance abuse, and loneliness and isolation, the Heatmap Climate Poll shows. The distress, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, isn’t strongly determined by education level, income, or even ideology: A full quarter of those who say they have mental health problems due to climate change are Republicans (25%, compared to 31% of Democrats and 34% of independents).
The effects of climate change on mental health have historically been studied with a focus on young people, and it’s true that younger adults in Heatmap’s survey were also the ones more likely to describe mental health problems from climate effects. But what else can we learn about those who suffer mental and emotional ramifications from our changing world?
Unsurprisingly, and consistent with prior research, young adults are overwhelmingly the ones most anxious about climate change. Nearly half of 18-to-34-year-olds who’ve experienced climate change firsthand described having mental health problems as a result — a response that was much smaller in the 65+ population (10%). However, of that small number of people in the 65+ population who have reported suffering mental health problems due to climate change, there was a universal (100%) experience of having “anxiety and stress over future effects of climate change,” Heatmap found. Ninety percent also had anxiety and stress over the current effects.
Among young people who self-reported having mental health issues around climate change, “stress and anxiety” about current (69%) and future (66%) climate events was the most often cited mental health impact. Over half also cited depression (53%) and loneliness and isolation (46%).
Despite the “unbearable whiteness” of the conversation around climate anxiety, Heatmap’s polling was consistent with earlier surveys that found people of color are more likely to be alarmed about global warming than white people. White Americans were actually the least likely to report having experienced climate change-related mental health problems, at 28%, compared to African-Americans and Hispanics (36% each) and Asian American and Pacific Islanders (33%). Though white Americans reported the highest instances of depression (60% compared to 36% among all people of color), minority groups lead self-reports of anxiety and stress over the present (71% to white Americans’ 64%); anxiety and stress over the future (65% to white Americans’ 61%); and loneliness and isolation (45% to white Americans’ 35%).
That result isn’t as surprising when you look at who has been personally affected by climate change: just 44% of white people say they have been, compared to more than half of African-Americans (55%), one in six Hispanics (60%), and three-quarters of Asian American and Pacific Islanders (75%). Of the people who said climate change caused them mental health problems, the lowest rate (28%) was among white Americans.
Heatmap also asked all the respondents if climate change makes them worried about their children’s future. Though this question included answers from non-parents and people planning never to have children (and thus could be skewed by the fact that white respondents were also the least likely to have children under 18 living at home), 78% of people of color voiced general concerns about the future of their children due to climate change compared to 64% of white Americans.
Particularly of note was that nearly all (94%) of Asian American and Pacific Islanders described themselves as worrying about their children’s future due to climate change, despite having roughly the same number of children living at home as white Americans (34% to white American's 31%). There were also high levels of concern among Hispanics, at 81%, and African-Americans, at 70%, though those respondents were somewhat more likely to be parents or guardians than white Americans.
Mothers were significantly more likely to suffer from the mental health effects of climate change (49%) compared to dads (33%).
Fathers, on the other hand — and hilariously — were likely to say they've experienced climate-related property damage (51% to moms’ 39%).
It might seem intuitive that people living under the wildfire-orange skies of California or on the eroding coastlines of Florida would be the most concerned about climate change, but that certainly isn’t the rule. The Northeastern United States is technically among the “safest” places in the country with regards to meteorological upheavals — just 11% of respondents in the region described themselves as having been “very affected” by climate change. Nevertheless, of the people self-reporting mental health problems related to climate, 40% were in the Northeast compared to 22% in the West.
This is especially notable because while people in the Northeast might have a reputation for being more high strung than other parts of the U.S., the region actually features the lowest levels of general anxiety, behind the Midwest, South, and West, according to
a pre-pandemic U.S. Census Bureau study. (The Northeast surpassed the Midwest by fall 2020, though that could potentially be attributed to the region being hard-hit by COVID-19).
The higher rate of self-reported mental health problems could be political: the Northeast is the most liberal region in the U.S., and residents are perhaps more inclined to trust scientific warnings about climate change and/or read news about the severity of the crisis, resulting in higher levels of concern.
It’s revealing to look at specifically what kinds of mental health problems Northeasterners describe, too. Most (82%) who were experiencing mental health problems specified having anxiety and stress from current climate change effects — a rate almost 10 points higher than the next-most-anxious region, the South.
“Depression” was the most commonly cited mental health impact in the West (66%) and Midwest (69%), the
Heatmap poll found. Suburbanites also specifically experienced “anxiety and stress” from current climate change in high numbers, at 74% compared to rural Americans’ 66% and urbanites’ 58%.
Climate-linked mental health problems more broadly occur at the highest rates in rural communities, which are also uniquely vulnerable to weather-related impacts. Among those who said they have mental health problems stemming from climate change, 36% lived in rural locations, compared to 29% in the suburbs and 27% in urban environments.
Anxiety only scratches the surface of the mental health issues that result from climate change, Heatmap also found.
Nearly a third of Americans (30%) who reported experiencing climate change said it resulted in mental health problems. While 63% of that group further specified that meant suffering from anxiety and stress, 49% also reported depression, 22% reported post-traumatic stress disorder, and 18% reported taking to coping mechanisms like substance abuse.
The fourth National Climate Assessment, a congressionally mandated report by the U.S. Global Change Research Program published in 2018,
warns that these responses are normal and will continue to result from climate disasters going forward. People who experience a flood or the risk of flood, for example, “report higher levels of depression and anxiety, and these impacts can persist several years after the event.” Droughts commonly result in “increased use of alcohol and tobacco.” High temperatures can “lead to an increase in aggressive behaviors, including homicide.” Children displaced by climate-related disasters experience a “heavy burden” on their mental health. Separately, a 2018 study published in Nature predicted up to 40,000 additional suicides in the United States and Mexico by 2050 due to higher temperatures.
“Climate anxiety” (sometimes interchangeably called “eco-anxiety”) is not technically classified as a medical condition by the all-powerful DSM-5, the diagnostic manual used by mental health professionals in the United States — which makes sense, because “the last thing we want is to pathologize this moral emotion, which stems from an accurate understanding of the severity of our planetary health crisis,” Britt Wray writes in her 2022 book Generation Dread: Finding Purpose in an Age of Climate Crisis. Many in the medical community agree; as one psychotherapist and researcher told the BBC on the subject in 2019, “I’d kind of wonder why somebody wasn’t feeling anxious.”
Within reason, a certain amount of climate anxiety can be a good thing. (It will perhaps be productive to track climate “worry” in the coming years to see if, or as, it changes as guarded climate optimism grows in popularity). But experiencing climate change can also produce mental health problems that, like physical health problems, need to be anticipated and treated as weather-related crises increase, intensify, and expand. That is particularly true as it pertains to underserved communities, whose mental health struggles already frequently go unrecognized or untreated.
The overriding takeaway, though, is that it is wrong to look at climate change as only a danger to property and physical safety, the two human impacts that dominate headlines. Even if just 15% of Americans who experience climate change personally end up with self-described mental health problems as a result, that would potentially mean almost 18 million Americans will be suffering from the mental effects of climate change by 2050.
As Gary Belkin, the former deputy health commissioner for New York City and founder of the Billion Minds Institute, wrote for Psychiatric News in 2021, “We are all psychologically unprepared to face the accelerating existential crisis of climate and ecological change that will further deepen other destructive fault lines in our society ... We must sound that alarm and put our own house in order.”
The Heatmap Climate Poll of 1,000 American adults was conducted via online panels by Benenson Strategy Group from Feb. 15 to 20, 2023. The survey included interviews with Americans in all 50 states and Washington, D.C. The margin of sampling error is plus or minus 3.02 percentage points. You can read more about the topline results here.
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An active Pacific cyclone season plus El Niño-warmed waters could produce a first-of-its-kind West Coast storm.
Among hurricane watchers, “I” is the scariest letter in the alphabet. Since 2001, the ninth named storm of the year in the Atlantic Basin — which usually arrives around the mid-September peak of the season — has historically been the worst of the worst. Ida. Irma. Ivan. Isabel.
This year, there might not be enough storms for “I” ever to become a threat. With just eight to 14 named storms expected, the 2026 Atlantic hurricane season could very well conclude with the formation of Tropical Storm Hanna.
The Eastern Pacific season, however, is a different story. Having already ticked off Amanda, Boris, and Cristina since its season started on May 15, the basin could blow past “I” — also its most retired initial — and go as deep as Xavier, the 22nd name on this year’s list. And the more storms there are in the Eastern Pacific, the more chances there are for a “gray swan” event — in this case, the historically unheard-of but scientifically possible impact or even landfall of a hurricane in California.
“We know there’s a chance, but because of the rarity in the historical record, particularly in the recent 100 years, people lack understanding of this type of event,” Laiyin Zhu, a climate scientist at Western Michigan University and the co-author of a new paper in Nature Climate Change about the increasing risk of cyclone-related impacts on southern California, told me.
Blame El Niño for all the fuss this year. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration formally announced its return last week, and though the atmospheric phenomenon has the effect of suppressing hurricane formation in the Atlantic basin by increasing wind shear and knocking would-be hurricanes off-kilter, the case is different on the left coast. Record and near-record warm waters serve as an engine for the cyclones that form in the Eastern Pacific, a pocket that extends as far as the 140th meridian west, an otherwise obscure latitude that cuts south from Alaska’s Yakutat Bay into the open ocean.
And there is no relief in sight: “With global warming in the next several decades, we are expecting a strong increase of sea surface temperature with the magnitude of about 2.7 degrees Celsius, and this will provide a lot of energy to the tropical cyclones on the East Pacific side of the state,” Zhu said.
Though about as many hurricanes form on average in the Eastern Pacific as in the Atlantic, trade winds push storms in the latter basin westward toward the Caribbean nations, Latin America, and the southeast and eastern United States, sparking excitement, attention, and the odd scandal when they threaten population centers. Storms in the Eastern Pacific follow the same westward trajectory, sometimes bumping into coastal Mexico, though just as often drifting harmlessly out to sea. In rare cases, a steering pattern sends a storm due north toward San Diego or Los Angeles. Each time that’s happened, cold waters off Southern California have starved the cyclone of its warm-water fuel before it can make landfall at full hurricane strength.
In an above-average Eastern Pacific hurricane season such as this one, however, there are more opportunities for a storm to follow that rare track toward California. Additionally, during an El Niño year, Southern California’s protective cold-water barrier becomes slightly warmer, meaning the continent has less protection against tropical storms that take the road less traveled by. To wit: The closest a hurricane has ever come to making landfall on the state was in 1852, an El Niño year. Hurricane Hilary, which prompted the National Hurricane Center to issue its first-ever tropical storm warning for Southern California in 2023, also formed during an El Niño. Though that storm weakened to below the tropical storm threshold before making landfall, its remains dropped more than half a year’s average rain on many parts of the region, killed one person, and racked up some $900 million in flood- and mudslide-related damage.
This year, Southern California will be all the more vulnerable due to the 60% chance of a “super” El Niño forming. “This, on top of the gradually increasing [sea surface temperature] from the climate background, is going to increase the probability of tropical cyclones making landfall, potentially with this rainfall and landslide impact over California,” Zhu said.
Realistically, the danger to California isn’t a Category 5 hurricane making landfall; if a tropical storm were to reach the shores of the western U.S., it’d very likely be weak and unstable. Rather, as Zhu and his colleagues’ research has found, the threat in a high-emissions warming scenario is that the warming Eastern Pacific shortens the return period of a “Hurricane-Hilary-magnitude rainfall” by 50%, from 110 years to 54 years.
While more rain for the drought-plagued Southwest might sound like a good thing, “we are talking about a so-called whiplash event,” Zhu told me. “If we have severe drought followed by a severe rain event, it is going to create big disasters like landslides because the dry soil is not going to absorb the rainfall in a short time efficiently.” The researchers found that all Southern California counties “exhibit growth in areas exposed to landslides from 2000 to 2050,” though the risk is disproportionate; for households earning less than $50,000, landslide risk could triple by the middle of the century compared to wealthy households, where it will increase by less than half. (Wildfires in the region have also made the landscape particularly prone to mudslides since the loss of vegetation disrupts normal water absorption by the soil and makes slopes more unstable after rain.)
There might be a spot of good news, though. Jin-Yi Yu, a professor of earth system science at the University of California, Irvine, told me that while he had not read the Nature Climate Change article, he thinks California might at least be spared a winter deluge of the likes of the 1997-1998 El Niño, which ran the state some $850 million in storm-related damage.
Often a skeptic of “super El Niño” hype, Yu acknowledged that this year appears headed toward the superlative. But as his research has shown, using the historical record to predict El Niño has become increasingly unreliable since the 20th century due to its shifting center and marine heatwaves. So far, the patterns in 2026 look more similar to the 2015-2016 El Niño, which was the strongest on record, but also developed a warm-water pocket near the International Date Line that disrupted the system to the point that winter rainfall in California was actually below average.
But if California dodges both a hurricane and a record-wet winter this year, that makes the state lucky, not invincible. Californians “are not like people from Florida, who are always getting hit by hurricanes and who know how to evacuate and how to build their houses to a certain standard,” Zhu said. Californians are particularly vulnerable to tropical cyclones because they’re so unlikely. Policymakers should be thinking now about zoning changes in landslide-prone areas and home-hardening measures in anticipation of when the “grey swan” event finally arrives.
“I hope this doesn’t happen this year, or for many years, in California,” Zhu said. “But we need to be aware of it.”
An exclusive interview with Senator Martin Heinrich on SunZia, the largest renewables project in U.S. history, which is now — finally — fully operational.
The largest renewable electricity project in American history is open for business.
After almost exactly 20 years of development, permitting, and construction, the SunZia Wind and Transmission Project became officially operational on Thursday afternoon, according to its developer, Pattern Energy.
The project, which built an enormous 3.6-gigawatt wind farm in New Mexico and a 550-mile high-voltage power line that crosses into Arizona, is capable of generating and delivering more electricity than the Hoover Dam. Its lengthy development and approval process made it an emblem of the country’s struggle to build new, large-scale power lines and virtually every other type of zero-carbon energy infrastructure.
“We proved that America can still build big things, and I think that’s really important,” Senator Martin Heinrich, a Democrat from New Mexico, told me on Thursday.
SunZia is now the seventh largest power plant in the United States. At peak capacity, it will power more than a million homes, according to Pattern’s estimates. The facility will fund more than $1.3 billion in direct payments to local governments, schools, and landowners over the next few decades, the developer said in a statement. More than half of the project’s electricity will be delivered to and used by southern California. (Analysts realized SunZia was nearing completion when gigawatts of wind power started appearing in the state’s energy data in May.)
So what took so long to get it done? The closer you look at SunZia, the more it seems to tell you about the promise — and pitfalls — of building more clean energy in America. The project began in 2006, when a group of utilities, developers, and governments across the Southwest realized that Arizona’s booming cities could draw cheap renewable power from New Mexico’s arid plains. The project applied for federal permits in 2008, and planned to start construction in 2013.

Yet due to a lengthy permitting and siting battle, construction did not begin until 2023. Two years ago, I detailed that saga in a feature for Heatmap, where I drove out to the remote Arizona valley where the line proved most contentious. That reporting also revealed how important Heinrich, the Democratic senator, had been to getting the power line built. When local environmentalists feared the transmission line’s towers would hurt sandhill cranes in a rare high-desert habitat in New Mexico, Heinrich intervened and brokered a new route. He also helped negotiate new technological improvements to the line to avoid the birds.
I later wrote up my three takeaways from the SunZia investigation. Among them: A better relationship between conservationists and clean energy developers is possible — but someone has to facilitate it. SunZia only ran through the tape because Heinrich had credibility with environmentalists and clean energy developers.
Heinrich is now important to an even bigger energy endeavor. As the Democratic ranking member on the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee, he is conducting negotiations with Republicans over a permitting reform package that could change how the federal government studies and approves new large-scale infrastructure. To commemorate the official opening of SunZia, I caught up with the senator by phone on Thursday to discuss the project’s long history, what he learned, and what it all means for permitting reform.
Our interview has been edited for length and clarity.
SunZia opens today. It’s very exciting. It’s been in the works for a long time. What are you reflecting on at this moment, and what did you feel like you learned from the process?
I think we proved America can still build big things, and I think that’s really important. But we also learned a lot of lessons along the way for how to do that. Those are going to be really important to bake into permitting reform, and they’re going to be important as best practices for other developers who want to take on these big infrastructure projects.
What are some of those lessons?
Well, for one, start by listening and engaging with the community very early in the process. Don’t come with some completely baked idea and expect people to, you know, welcome you with open arms. Go out into the community and listen — there’s just no substitute for it. And if you can do it, the earlier you can do that in the process, the better your prospects for getting to a good outcome.
I do think you need political leadership that’s willing to make hard decisions. You can’t build things without with zero level of conflict, but you can — with leadership — build big things and put them in the right places. There was an unwillingness, when I first started working on this project, for people to expend any amount of political capital to get it done, and I didn’t feel that was acceptable. There was just too much upside to having 3.5 gigawatts of clean generation, and all of the jobs and investment, $20 billion worth, that come with that.
One interesting aspect of this case is what happened with Audubon Southwest and the Pentagon with the river crossing, where the initial plan that [SunZia’s developer] put forward wasn’t acceptable. And ultimately you helped broker a deal. One lesson I took away from that was that, boy, it’s helpful to have someone with credibility in the local community or politics to help put a deal together, but that’s obviously not the case everywhere. There’s not a Martin Heinrich to negotiate every power line. What do you think are the lessons from this experience that scale — because while community leadership is very important, you’re not always going to be able to find a political leader who can broker an agreement everyone will find acceptable?
No, and I take your point very well, but I do think there ought to be a leader in the White House who has a dashboard of big, nationally important infrastructure projects, who understands the issues in those projects, and can make sure that the federal family of agencies are working constructively to get to the right outcome. You can have these situations where literally one staff person in one agency can bring down an entire project. And so to the extent that you can institutionalize clear federal agency leadership, with support from the administration — I mean, I worked this thing through multiple administrations, but towards the end, with folks like [Biden-era national climate adviser] Ali Zaidi in the White House, to just make sure that the federal agencies were not lowering the bar for their standards, but that they were also working constructively.
You’re now negotiating permitting reform on the Energy and Natural Resources committee. Transmission is obviously a huge part of what an ideal package would look like. What do you think SunZia’s lessons are for a broader permitting reform effort?
To the extent that you can make sure that there are benefits across the entirety of linear infrastructure and transmission lines — that those benefits are not relegated to just where the generation is and and where the consumption is — that’s an important lesson. There are a lot of counties along the way, and there are a lot of private landowners who, if it’s in their interest, actually become cheerleaders for the project. Also, going back to early engagement, you don’t want to learn that there’s some fatal flaw in your route five years into a project. You want to figure out where the trip wires are early, and that’s why you have to engage conservation groups and historical preservation officers and those sorts of interests. Because if you’re doing your job right, you’re avoiding the kind of impacts that can stall a project.
What’s your assessment of how likely there is to be a permitting reform deal this year? We’ve heard, I think, mixed signals from Congress, but I also think that there’s some sense that if it were ever to happen, it would need to happen during this term, and probably come together over the next few months and solidify in the lame duck.
We’re still very much at the table, and so I’m not going to say it’s going to be easy, but we’re working hard to try and get to yes.
What is essential to getting a deal done?
The recipe for success in the Senate is to have a balanced bipartisan proposal. There are going to be things that are important to Republicans, in order to get to certainty for projects that are important to them. For me, transmission is an incredibly important piece of these negotiations. We have to make sure that it’s an effectively balanced package — that’s how you get to 65, 70 votes.
With SunZia out of the way, are there any other transmission projects or big projects you’d like to see come online?
We’re constantly engaged in the transmission conversation in New Mexico because there are both smaller regional lines that we’ve worked through and have gotten some things built, and then there are also additional interregional lines that are being explored. If you can get to a place like we did on SunZia — it wasn’t always this way, but today the breadth of community and political support for Sun Zia is very broad.
That’s been striking to me about SunZia. I’m in New York, and we just opened a big new transmission line down the Hudson. It’s great. It’s going to supply New York with 20% hydro power. And it’s funny because SunZia and the Champlain Hudson Power Express were contested projects when they were getting built, but now that they’re open, people are very supportive of them. What do you think is the lesson there for other lines?
It’s part process. When you do a good job on the process, you build more and more support over time, as people start to see the actual economic benefits in particular. So for a landowner in central New Mexico who has two or three turbines on their family ranch, the lease fees can be the difference between profitability and unprofitability. The [union] jobs of actually putting up the towers, and the generation and construction jobs — when those benefits become real, and the scary idea you might have had doesn’t necessarily manifest itself, it changes the equation. And so over time, if you’re doing this well, more and more accrues on the positive side of the ledger and less and less on the negative side.
But there’s still plenty of room for regional grid operators to set their own rules.
Almost eight months have passed since the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission was tasked by the Trump administration with conjuring up with new rules to help speed up interconnection of large loads without increasing retail electricity costs. On Thursday, FERC finally responded with “major reforms,” in the words of Chair Laura Swett, putting the onus on America’s restructured electricity markets — PJM Interconnection, Midcontinent Independent System Operator, Southwest Power Pool, California Independent System Operator, ISO New England, and New York Independent System Operator — to figure out how to implement their suggested solutions.
Using what’s known as “show cause” orders, FERC presented those in charge of these electricity markets, known as regional transmission organizations and independent system operators, with what was essentially a menu of ideas that have been percolating in electricity policy circles since the rise of data-center-driven load growth has started putting pressure on the existing grid and told them to get to work. Secretary of Energy Chris Wright’s original “advance notice of proposed rulemaking,” published in late October, was more proscriptive and specific, whereas FERC essentially said to regional electricity markets, “do whatever you have to, just make it work.”
In a brief email, former FERC chair Neil Chatterjee described this as “a very FERC-y approach!” Or as Gretchen Kershaw, the chief operating officer of Grid Strategies and a former FERC legal advisor, explained to me that “it’s much faster to act on a region-specific basis instead of going through a full notice and comment rulemaking process.”
The commission’s proposed reforms fall into five categories:
1. The markets need “clear transmission service application and study rules” for large load customers seeking to connect to the grid, Swett said in her remarks. The commissioners specifically called out the use of “grid-enhancing technologies” to expand the capacity of America’s existing electricity infrastructure — things like reconductoring, which adds transmission capacity along existing wires, and dynamic line rating, which adjusts capacity based on local weather and conditions. “The cheapest transmission line is the one that already exists,” Commissioner David Rosner said, speaking after Swett at Thursday’s meeting.
2. The RTOs and ISOs will also have to show that they have “adequate safeguards against cost-shifting or take steps to create them,” Swett said. This will require “cost recovery agreements,” Rosner added, “which are designed to ensure that large loads pay their fair share of the costs incurred to serve them, regardless of whether the large load comes online as planned.” In other words, “If new infrastructure is built to accommodate a data center, and that data center doesn’t show up, residential customers are not left on the hook to pay the costs,” he said.
3. The third area that the electricity markets will have to address is co-location and behind-the-meter power, specifically coming up with rules that facilitate purpose-built generation facilities to support new large loads. This would allow data centers and big power users to be less of a burden on the grid, thus requiring less in the way of grid upgrades and additional costs that would be borne by all ratepayers.
4. The orders tells markets “to prove or develop new transmission services to reflect large load flexibility,” Swett said. Load flexibility is another idea designed to lower the system cost of data centers. Grids have to be built out to accommodate the peak demand of the system, but with flexibility, data centers could shave off how much power they demand during, say, a hot summer day, thus lowering that demand peak. To get there, however, they need to be properly incentivized. FERC is telling the RTOs and ISOs to come up with rules that would allow large loads to come online without necessarily requiring vast new buildouts of grid infrastructure and generation. “Legalizing flexible transmission service options for more large load customers can speed interconnection, avoid constructing unnecessary transmission upgrades, reduce strain on the grid, and make power bills cheaper for everyone,” Rosner said.
5. Finally, the orders will require the markets to come up with rules and procedures for generation that’s “proximate” to new load. This will encourage “bring your own new generation,” Rosner said. That stands in contrast to proposals requiring or encouraging new large sources of demand to place generation on their own premises. “Literal co-location is not the only way to facilitate faster, more efficient, and more cost-effective connections to the grid,” Rosner said.
The markets will have to come back in a month to explain how they “intend to ensure that adequate generation will be available to serve existing and new large loads,” a FERC staffer explained at Thursday’s meeting, then again a month later to explain either how their existing rules conform to the new requirements or how they plan to charge their rules to do so.
The commission’s decision is not a formal rulemaking. Instead, the commissioners argued that tasking each RTO and ISO with specific orders would result in a more tailored set of reforms. “Today we’re engaging those to act with more speed, more durability, and more precision than we would get with our proposed rulemaking,” Commissioner David LaCerte said.
The action was strikingly bipartisan, with Democratic and Republican commissioners approving it in a 5-0 vote. It also won plaudits from clean energy and environmental groups. The Sierra Club said in a statement the action was “responsive to Sierra Club’s requests on several fronts,” while the clean energy trade group Advanced Energy United lauded the orders as “potentially creating much-welcome regulatory certainty and transparency, as well as some safeguards to ensure that co-location won’t negatively impact the electric rates and system reliability of all other customers.”
Federal energy regulators have been mulling these reforms as the Trump administration and state and local government officials have grown increasingly restless with rising electricity prices, utilities, and data center developers. Swett herself has scolded America’s largest electricity market, PJM Interconnection, for its inability to meet its own preferred level of excess capacity to ensure it can maintain continuous service, as well as continual high capacity costs, which have translated into tens of billions of dollars of added costs for electricity customers in the mid-Atlantic. Swett has even gone so far to suggest that PJM “ simply has grown too big to function,” leading some market observers to speculate that a forced breakup may be nigh.
Electricity prices nationwide have risen 5.3% in the last year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, while overall prices were up 4.2% — a number that includes gasoline price increases stemming from the war in Iran. In PJM territories like New Jersey, average bills have increased from about $91 to $140 over the past five years, while prices are up some 52%, according to the Heatmap-MIT Electricity Price Hub.
The existing rules, Swett said, are “unjust and unreasonable because they do not adequately address how to integrate large and co-located loads onto the transmission system.”
“Free-riding on other customers is not an option,” she added.