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’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.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Current conditions: More than two dozen locations across the Mountain West and Midwest broke temperature records Sunday as the nation’s heat wave roasted the Central United States • At least 12 people died fleeing a sweeping wildfire in Spain as hundreds of firefighters battled the flames • In Colorado, the ongoing Aspen Acres Fire has destroyed 780 structures.
During President Donald Trump’s first term, his administration’s big fight over public lands centered on the last two national monuments approved by Barack Obama on the way out of office. In 2017, Trump signed executive orders slashing the size of Bears Ears National Monument by 85% and nearby Grand Staircase-Escalante, both located in Utah, by half. Legal challenges were still pending when President Joe Biden restored the reserves to their initial size in 2021. But ABC4 in Utah reported last week that Trump planned to announce a new executive order to shrink the boundaries of the monuments yet again, likely this afternoon. “The Antiquities Act was a one-way statute when Teddy Roosevelt signed it into law. It was a one-way statute when President Trump tried to ignore it in 2017. It’s still a one-way statute today,” Aaron Weiss, the executive director of the Center for Western Priorities, said in a statement. “Just last month, Congress had a chance to weaken the management plan for Grand Staircase-Escalante and declined.”
In April, the Senate approved a House resolution using the Congressional Review Act to clear the way for a mining operation near Minnesota’s Boundary Waters, in what my colleague Jeva Lange called a declaration of “open season on public lands.”
Over the past 12 months ending in July, 56 fusion companies raised a total of $4.5 billion, a 69% jump over 2025’s total. That’s according to the latest data from the Fusion Industry Association’s annual report. Total funding since 2021 now stands at $14.2 billion, a sevenfold increase. Twice as many companies are now competing as when the report was first published six years ago. This year’s figures include major financing rounds from Commonwealth Fusion Systems, which raised $863 million last August; Inertia Enterprises, which brought in $450 million in February; Helion Energy, which raked in $456 million last month; and the European champion Proxima Energy, which netted $518 million this month.

Back in January, I told you when the price of copper hit a record high. We kept track, too, of Chilean miners’ plans to ramp up production last month. But Chile’s output of copper fell sharply in May, according to a Mining.com analysis of data from Codelco, the country’s national miner. Production from major miners such as BHP dropped over 18% year-on-year to 106,300 metric tons. The fall comes as key mines in the South American nation face declining ore quality.
The move comes right as one of China’s biggest solar manufacturers switched from using silver to copper in its panels in response to what Bloomberg described as the surging prices of the precious metal.
Sign up to receive Heatmap AM in your inbox every morning:
The world’s first commercial satellite powered by nuclear energy has launched into space after escaping the Earth’s atmosphere on a SpaceX Transporter-17 vessel. Miami-based City Labs, the company behind the launch, specializes in designing, developing, and manufacturing micro power technology based on the radioisotope tritium. The technology is meant to provide long-lasting, maintenance-free power for medical, industrial and space applications. “This is a historic step for commercial nuclear power in space,” City Labs CEO Peter Cabauy told World Nuclear News. The system “demonstrates that safe, compact, and regulatory-approved nuclear power systems are ready for routine commercial deployment.” The technology “enables persistent, always-on” operations “that are not constrained by sunlight or battery life.”
New York is behind on its development of clean energy. Its offshore wind buildout has stagnated. The state has limited space and sunlight for large-scale solar. And while Albany is positioning itself as the state leader on nuclear power with plans to construct more reactors upstate, those efforts are long term, and only just began. But one source of green power is expanding faster than expected: rooftop solar. New Yorkers installed 8 gigawatts of distributed solar capacity, putting the state ahead of schedule moving toward its legally-binding goal of 10 gigawatts by 2030. “New York continues to set the bar high as we mark another milestone for solar within our communities across the state,” New York Governor Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, said in a statement. “This is low-cost, reliable clean energy that is delivering cost savings for families and businesses while expanding the availability of renewable energy which benefits our environment, our economy and contributes to New York’s diverse energy resource mix.” That’s optimistic. But as Heatmap’s contributor Jesse Jenkins explained on our Shift Key podcast in 2023, there are limits to how big an impact rooftop solar can have on emissions.
China, as I told you last week, has been investing heavily in green hydrogen. The statement in Beijing’s latest Five-Year Plan confirms that green hydrogen, ammonia, and methanol “will play a significant role in decarbonizing China,” Hydrogen Insight reported.
Building a data center is also quite carbon-intensive.
When I helped start Heatmap News three years ago, I didn’t think I would be writing this much about big tech companies.
I knew that, sure, they were crucial to America’s ability to develop and scale some next-generation emissions-reducing technologies. (By then, Microsoft had already started its huge carbon removal purchasing program.) And, yes, I knew they bought a lot of renewables. But I still understood their clean energy programs chiefly as an employee perk — a way for some of the economy’s richest firms to show their largely urban, college-educated, and liberal employees that they cared.
Perhaps that was true once. It’s not true anymore. Over the past several years, the tech companies have become major electricity consumers and producers in their own right. Artificial intelligence has turned their electricity procurement and development businesses into core operational competencies. (Meta and Microsoft have even considered entering the electricity trading business.) Some of the thorniest questions in climate policy were first encountered by these tech companies.
More importantly, their hunger for electricity has transformed them into quasi-industrial companies — and given them enough heft in the market to sometimes counterbalance (and sometimes collaborate with) the utilities and fossil fuel firms that previously steered the sector. As such, they’re now crucial parts of the U.S. decarbonization story.
Three companies in particular dominate the artificial intelligence cloud business: Google, Amazon, and Microsoft.
The country’s best-known frontier labs, such as OpenAI and Anthropic, rely on these companies to provide their compute power; Amazon Web Services is the backbone of virtually the entire online software industry. Amazon, Google, and Microsoft account for more than half of the country’s data center power capacity, according to the investment firm Jeffries.
So these companies’ emissions are, in a sense, not only their own; they also give us a view into the AI industry’s carbon footprint more broadly.
Over the past two weeks, all three of these cloud providers released their energy and emissions data for the past year, and we’ve looked at the top line findings from these reports in past editions. Today I want to briefly dive into what they could mean together.
Let’s handle the part you already know: Everyone’s emissions are up.
Microsoft’s emissions grew by 25% last year, their largest year-over-year leap since the pandemic. Amazon’s emissions leapt by 16%, its largest one-year increase ever. Google’s emissions increased by 18%, rising above their pre-pandemic level.
This surge will make the companies’ climate goals increasingly difficult to meet — and some of them are coming up fast. Microsoft has pledged to become ‘carbon negative’ by 2030, meaning it must remove more climate pollution from the atmosphere than it emits in that year. Google has pledged to achieve net zero by 2030, a goal that requires — by its own estimate — cutting its emissions in half by that year, as compared to their 2019 level. Amazon, meanwhile, has pledged to achieve net-zero in its operations by 2040.
All three firms’ greenhouse gas emissions are up because of the AI data center boom. Microsoft consumes nearly four times as much electricity as it did before the pandemic; Google’s electricity use has more than doubled.
These companies’ energy use has swelled, too, but at least as of last year, nearly all of their energy demand still took the form of electricity. When we think about “electrification” in the national context, perhaps we should think at least as much about these AI megalodons as we do about heat pump or battery manufacturers.
Amazon, to its shame, does not publish recent electricity usage data, so it doesn’t appear on either of these charts.
But outsiders have estimated its power consumption based on the numbers it does publish. Hendrik Rood, an IT researcher and consultant in the Netherlands, calculates that Amazon’s data center business used 78,000 gigawatt-hours in 2025. That would mean it consumes nearly as much electricity as Microsoft and Google combined.
As I cautioned yesterday, some of these figures are already outdated. Although all three companies just released their 2025 sustainability data, Microsoft brackets its report to the fiscal year, which ended on June 30, 2025. Google and Amazon’s data covers the calendar year.
In what might be a quirk inherent to the genre, all three sustainability reports have a somewhat defensive tone (or at least a writing style that tries to anticipate quibbles). These companies know that their sustainability pledges, embraced in the heady flush of 2020 and 2021, have become much more difficult to fulfill in the AI era. And they want you to know that all of their emissions could be worse — if not for their corporate policies, pollution might be much higher.
I can’t say I find these counterfactuals entirely believable. We don’t know what Google or Microsoft or Amazon would do if, say, computing were more energy intensive or a certain process more environmentally damaging. And Jevon’s paradox suggests that every gain in efficiency — especially for a service as in-demand as AI — will make it cheaper to use AI, therefore raising its energy demand.
But I do think it’s worth sharing these claims to get some perspective. Google, for its part, says that its corporate emissions would be five times higher than they are if not for its total slate of policies:

Microsoft takes a more clinical approach. It selects four of its corporate policies: “carbon-free electricity, sustainable fuels, XBOX console efficiency,” as well as efforts to decarbonize its Surface tablet production. If not for these interventions, it says, it would have emitted 34 million tons of greenhouse gas into the atmosphere last year, not the 21 million tons that it did produce.
For all the focus on the difficulty of powering data centers (including by Heatmap), electricity does not drive most of these companies’ emissions — or it didn’t in the first half of last year, at least. The majority of Microsoft, Google, and Amazon’s greenhouse gas emissions came from what are dubbed “scope 3” emissions, a somewhat nebulous category that includes buildings, employee travel, and the full carbon footprint of their supply chain. This category reflects the AI boom in its own way.
(Skip this if you’re a sustainability nerd: In the classic schema used for corporate emissions accounting, “scope 1” emissions are direct fossil fuel pollution from an asset that the company owns or controls, “scope 2” emissions are pollution associated with the electricity, steam, or chilled water purchased by the company, and “scope 3” emissions are everything else — pollution from the company’s upstream supply chain and its downstream product use. I find this scheme makes somewhat more sense for businesses like airlines and automakers than it does for technology conglomerates. But that’s a different newsletter.)
It makes sense, then, that Amazon should have huge scope 3 emissions. The scope 3 subcategory called “Purchased Goods and Services” drives the largest share of its emissions; these include pollution from goods and services that Amazon buys for its employees to use, as well as all the embodied carbon in its line of Amazon Basics products.
But the biggest driver of scope 3 emissions — and thus for emissions overall — for Microsoft and Google came from “capital goods,” a category that covers new construction, physical assets and other fixed infrastructure used to produce products and services. More than 40% of Microsoft’s total emissions came from capital goods, and they made up more than 9 million metric tons of the company’s greenhouse gases. Google doesn’t fully aggregate out its “capital goods” category, combining it with the “use of sold products” subcategory, but it was responsible for almost 9 million tons as well.
These capital goods include the new data centers themselves: all the cement, steel, server racks, and silicon that actually make up the physical infrastructure supporting the AI boom. Here at Heatmap, we often focus on the electricity sector because it’s where so much change. But it’s good to remember that construction remains enormously carbon-intensive, and the literal buildings that house AI are, in many cases, still driving a disproportionate amount of emissions.
The July 4 heat wave showed just how far the metropolis has to go to reach its decarbonization goals.
New York City’s decarbonization plan has stalled. The events of this year’s Fourth of July weekend all but prove it.
The temperature in the city reached as high as 100 degrees Fahrenheit on Thursday, July 2, the hottest it’s been here in 14 years. As New Yorkers blasted their air conditioners to stay cool, utilities drew on all of New York’s resources to serve the resulting electricity demand for cooling. These included a fleet of dual-fuel power plants, which can burn both oil and natural gas and encompasses many of its peakers, which turn on to deal with spikes of demand.
Those dual-fuel plants pushed over 10 gigawatts of electricity onto the grid on the evening of July 1— about a third of the total load in the state — and hit similar peaks on the 2nd and 3rd. The peaker fleet owned and operated by the New York Power Authority was operational for over two-thirds of the heat wave, which persisted for four consecutive days, while some ran nonstop from 7 a.m. July 2 to 3 a.m. July 4, according to NYPA.
In response to questions about the use of its peakers during the heat wave, a NYPA spokesperson told me, “During times of peak energy demand, like last week’s heat wave, the state’s independent grid operator called upon NYPA’s Small Natural Gas Power Plants to run well beyond their typical usage to meet high energy needs and prevent localized blackouts.”
While specific generator information is a protected trade secret, they said, “capacity suppliers are critical resources to meet system peak loads like those experienced during the recent heatwave.”
And yet still, over 100,000 people lost power during the heat wave. Real-time electricity prices in the area of the New York grid that includes the city got as high as $1,465 per megawatt-hour on the evening of July 3, according to data collected by Grid Status.
At the same time, the latest addition to New York’s non-carbon electricity generation fleet, a transmission line from Quebec that can transmit up to 1,250 megawatts known as the Champlain Hudson Power Express, was struggling. It experienced an unplanned outage on July 1, the first day of the heat wave, followed by a second outage beginning on July 4 that still had not been resolved as of Friday.
Since 2014, the city has had an aspirational goal of reducing emissions by 80% of its 2005 levels by 2050. CHPE was a major part of that plan, which also included offshore wind and utility-scale solar. There has been progress: Of the 1,000 megawatts of solar the city aims to have installed by 2030, about two thirds have been built. Even so, about 90% of New York City’s electricity came from fossil fuels in 2025, according to the city’s comptroller.
Why the difficulty decarbonizing? Blame a mixture of policy and geography. New York City is dense and has a lot of old buildings with old heating systems. Reducing consumption of fossil fuels requires getting cars off the road (congestion pricing) and retrofitting buildings with electric appliances (Local Law 97).
But that’s the demand side — the supply side is far trickier. Utility-scale non-carbon-emitting power on the orders of hundreds of megawatts or a gigawatt will have to be built elsewhere and piped in via transmission lines. That means offshore wind, solar (ideally with battery storage), and maybe one day nuclear power.
To the extent New York City can build solar and storage locally, it means dealing with a thicket of building regulations and local opposition. Efforts to shut down or replace peaker plants in the city have run into a brick wall at the New York Independent System Operator, which has declared that at least some peakers will have to stay online through the end of the decade to maintain system-wide reliability.
The only other new source of carbon-free power currently under construction is the offshore wind project Empire Wind, due to come online in 2027. NYISO said last year that without CHPE, Empire, and two local transmission projects planned to enter service by 2030, New York City would be “deficient in the summer” through 2030.
Of course developers have scrapped several other offshore wind projects over the years, whether due to problems procuring the right size turbine or the Trump administration buying out their lease. And though New York Governor Kathy Hochul pledged last summer to develop at least a gigawatt of new nuclear capacity in the northern region of the state, that is probably a decade away from fruition.
Meanwhile the Clean Path transmission line, which was meant to connect New York City to several gigawatts of new wind, solar and hydropower, saw its contracts canceled in late 2024 as its projected costs continued to rise. Last year, utility regulators shut down an effort by the state-run New York Power Authority to take it over as a “priority transmission project,” questioning whether it was “needed expeditiously” to meet downstate reliability needs and arguing that the project “will not be needed to serve substantial amounts of generation until well after 2033, and possibly not until 2040.”
While the city has some utility-scale battery storage systems, would-be developers have faced intense local opposition. Fullmark Energy, for instance, scrapped a planned 650-megawatt storage project after protests from political figures, including frequent mayoral candidate Curtis Sliwa. A dispute over another battery storage project in Queens has escalated into accusations of assault leveled by Councilmember Phil Wong, who called for a criminal investigation into what he said was an assault by a contractor for a project against his staffer.
So what’s left for New York City to do?
Any near-term progress will likely come from increasing efficiency and adding marginal generation capacity, as opposed to large-scale new projects and decommissioning of power plants.
“We need to max out our energy efficiency gains from Local Law 97,” former New York City Chief Climate Policy Advisor Daniel Zarrilli told me, referring to a 2019 law mandating steep reductions in emissions from large buildings in the city, which came into effect two years ago. He also called for a further“push on batteries and behind the meter solar, clean energy, and energy efficiency.”
Already across the state, behind-the-meter solar is shaving off peak power demand. On the afternoon of July 2, behind-the-meter solar accounted served about 4.5 gigawatts to users, according to NYISO and Grid Status data.
Going forward, Zarrilli said, the city should use its purchasing and planning power — as it did with CHPE — for projects like resurrecting Clean Path. “We need to be starting now. Maybe it’s not by 2030, but soon after we could be getting the benefit of that.”
“Battery developers started to see interconnection costs that were around 30 or 40 times what is standard,” Patrick Robbins, director of the Utility Customers Association told me. “It just means that new battery projects completely don’t pencil out and so we have a de facto moratorium on new [battery] projects.”
Advocates for solar and storage have blamed Con Edison for the city’s slow progress there, claiming that changes in the interconnection process have made it essentially cost prohibitive for battery storage developers to move forward on new projects.
Some of these fights have landed in front of New York’s Public Service Commission. In a filing, the city cited data from Con Edison showing that “the interconnection costs for some projects … have increased by thousands of percent,” citing one project whose interconnection costs jumped from $640,000 to over $35 million due to changes in how Con Edison attributed grid costs from new projects.
"Battery storage is essential to New York's clean energy future, and Con Edison strongly supports the development of energy storage when projects are deployed at the right locations, at the appropriate scale, and with operating parameters that provide the greatest benefit to customers and the electric grid,” a Con Edison spokesperson told me. “Because grid constraints vary across our system — from neighborhood‑level distribution lines to major transmission corridors — the location of a battery ultimately determines how much benefit it can deliver to the grid and to customers.”
There were 115 megawatts of battery storage operational in New York City at the end of last year, according to Con Edison, and 865 megawatts of projects with interconnection agreements. Peak load in the region is about 10,000 megawatts, meaning that these new projects would meaningfully alter the way the utility serves its customers.
Con Edison has claimed in a regulatory filing that the concentration of projects could lead to “significant impacts from BESS charging on infrastructure upstream of primary feeders,” necessitating the changes to its interconnection process. The city claimed in its filing that the added cost has “understandably chilled ongoing development activity at a time when New York City needs more supply resources capable of serving peak demand.”
When I reached out to the Mayor’s Office of Climate & Environmental Justice about the dispute, I received a statement in return from New York City Chief Climate Officer Louise Yeung: “Expanding battery storage capacity will be critical to New York City’s clean energy future, as extreme climate events continue to strain our grid system,” she said. “The City is working across agencies and communities to ensure battery energy storage projects are deployed safely and can provide reliable power when New Yorkers need it most.”
As for residential solar and storage, it will likely take years for those distributed resources to become a regular part of New York City’s energy landscape. There’s only one fully permitted and approved residential storage system allowed in New York City, which was installed earlier this year by Brooklyn Solar Works. Negotiating approvals with city agencies including the Department of Buildings and the New York City Fire Department took around six years, the company’s vice president of sales, Steve Nelson, told me.
“It’s New York City. We’re expecting there to be some level of bureaucracy and some lift to get that stuff approved,” Nelson said. “But what we also lack is a ready, readily accessible residential battery that meets the criteria that these departments have set.”
All that adds up to both a practical and a political gap for decarbonization, Zarrilli told me.
“Batteries are a great way to connect the climate agenda and the affordability agenda, and it’s in the mayor’s control — it’s the regulatory apparatus at FDNY,” he said. “That’s a big near-term play that I think would make a big difference.”
Earlier this year, New York City Councilmember James Gennaro introduced a bill to amend the fire code to relax some battery storage permitting and safety requirements. But that still leaves the city’s decarbonization advocates with many big fish to fry.
“It’s a challenging future that’s still out in front of us, and how to navigate that is really difficult. But it’d be good if we were actually aligned on what our goals were as a society,” Zarrilli said.