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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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Lawmakers today should study the Energy Security Act of 1980.
The past few years have seen wild, rapid swings in energy policy in the United States, from President Biden’s enthusiastic embrace of clean energy to President Trump’s equally enthusiastic re-embrace of fossil fuels.
Where energy industrial policy goes next is less certain than any other moment in recent memory. Regardless of the direction, however, we will need creative and effective policy tools to secure our energy future — especially for those of us who wish to see a cleaner, greener energy system. To meet the moment, we can draw inspiration from a largely forgotten piece of energy industrial policy history: the Energy Security Act of 1980.
After a decade of oil shocks and energy crises spanning three presidencies, President Carter called for — and Congress passed — a new law that would “mobilize American determination and ability to win the energy war.” To meet that challenge, lawmakers declared their intent “to utilize to the fullest extent the constitutional powers of the Congress” to reduce the nation’s dependence on imported oil and shield the economy from future supply shocks. Forty-five years later, that brief moment of determined national mobilization may hold valuable lessons for the next stage of our energy industrial policy.
The 1970s were a decade of energy volatility for Americans, with spiking prices and gasoline shortages, as Middle Eastern fossil fuel-producing countries wielded the “oil weapon” to throttle supply. In his 1979 “Crisis of Confidence” address to the nation, Carter warned that America faced a “clear and present danger” from its reliance on foreign oil and urged domestic producers to mobilize new energy sources, akin to the way industry responded to World War II by building up a domestic synthetic rubber industry.
To develop energy alternatives, Congress passed the Energy Security Act, which created a new government-run corporation dedicated to investing in alternative fuels projects, a solar bank, and programs to promote geothermal, biomass, and renewable energy sources. The law also authorized the president to create a system of five-year national energy targets and ordered one of the federal government’s first studies on the impacts of greenhouse gases from fossil fuels.
Carter saw the ESA as the beginning of an historic national mission. “[T]he Energy Security Act will launch this decade with the greatest outpouring of capital investment, technology, manpower, and resources since the space program,” he said at the signing. “Its scope, in fact, is so great that it will dwarf the combined efforts expended to put Americans on the Moon and to build the entire Interstate Highway System of our country.” The ESA was a recognition that, in a moment of crisis, the federal government could revive the tools it once used in wartime to meet an urgent civilian challenge.
In its pursuit of energy security, the Act deployed several remarkable industrial policy tools, with the Synthetic Fuels Corporation as the centerpiece. The corporation was a government-run investment bank chartered to finance — and in some cases, directly undertake — alternative fuels projects, including those derived from coal, shale, and oil.. Regardless of the desirability or feasibility of synthetic fuels, the SFC as an institution illustrates the type of extraordinary authority Congress was once willing to deploy to address energy security and stand up an entirely new industry. It operated outside of federal agencies, unencumbered by the normal bureaucracy and restrictions that apply to government.
Along with everything else created by the ESA, the Sustainable Fuels Corporation was also financed by a windfall profits tax assessed on oil companies, essentially redistributing income from big oil toward its nascent competition. Both the law and the corporation had huge bipartisan support, to the tune of 317 votes for the ESA in the House compared to 93 against, and 78 to 12 in the Senate.
The Synthetic Fuels Corporation was meant to be a public catalyst where private investment was unlikely to materialize on its own. Investors feared that oil prices could fall, or that OPEC might deliberately flood the market to undercut synthetic fuels before they ever reached scale. Synthetic fuel projects were also technically complex, capital-intensive undertakings, with each plant costing several billion dollars, requiring up to a decade to plan and build.
To address this, Congress equipped the corporation with an unusually broad set of tools. The corporation could offer loans, loan guarantees, price guarantees, purchase agreements, and even enter joint ventures — forms of support meant to make first-of-a-kind projects bankable. It could assemble financing packages that traditional lenders viewed as too risky. And while the corporation was being stood up, the president was temporarily authorized to use Defense Production Act powers to initiate early synthetic fuel projects. Taken together, these authorities amounted to a federal attempt to build an entirely new energy industry.
While the ESA gave the private sector the first shot at creating a synthetic fuels industry, it also created opportunities for the federal government to invest. The law authorized the Synthetic Fuels Corporation to undertake and retain ownership over synthetic fuels construction projects if private investment was insufficient to meet production targets. The SFC was also allowed to impose conditions on loans and financial assistance to private developers that gave it a share of project profits and intellectual property rights arising out of federally-funded projects. Congress was not willing to let the national imperative of energy security rise or fall on the whims of the market, nor to let the private sector reap publicly-funded windfalls.
Employing logic that will be familiar to many today, Carter was particularly concerned that alternative fuel sources would be unduly delayed by permitting rules and proposed an Energy Mobilization Board to streamline the review process for energy projects. Congress ultimately refused to create it, worried it would trample state authority and environmental protections. But the impulse survived elsewhere. At a time when the National Environmental Policy Act was barely 10 years old and had become the central mechanism for scrutinizing major federal actions, Congress provided an exemption for all projects financed by the Synthetic Fuels Corporation, although other technologies supported in the law — like geothermal energy — were still required to go through NEPA review. The contrast is revealing — a reminder that when lawmakers see an energy technology as strategically essential, they have been willing not only to fund it but also to redesign the permitting system around it.
Another forgotten feature of the corporation is how far Congress went to ensure it could actually hire top tier talent. Lawmakers concluded that the federal government’s standard pay scales were too low and too rigid for the kind of financial, engineering, and project development expertise the Synthetic Fuels Corporation needed. So it gave the corporation unusual salary flexibility, allowing it to pay above normal civil service rates to attract people with the skills to evaluate multibillion dollar industrial projects. In today’s debates about whether federal agencies have the capacity to manage complex clean energy investments, this detail is striking. Congress once knew that ambitious industrial policy requires not just money, but people who understand how deals get done.
But the Energy Security Act never had the chance to mature. The corporation was still getting off the ground when Carter lost the 1980 election to Ronald Reagan. Reagan’s advisers viewed the project as a distortion of free enterprise — precisely the kind of government intervention they believed had fueled the broader malaise of the 1970s. While Reagan had campaigned on abolishing the Department of Energy, the corporation proved an easier and more symbolic target. His administration hollowed it out, leaving it an empty shell until Congress defunded it entirely in 1986.
At the same time, the crisis atmosphere that had justified the Energy Security Act began to wane. Oil prices fell nearly 60% during Reagan’s first five years, and with them the political urgency behind alternative fuels. Drained of its economic rationale, the synthetic fuels industry collapsed before it ever had a chance to prove whether it could succeed under more favorable conditions. What had looked like a wartime mobilization suddenly appeared to many lawmakers to be an expensive overreaction to a crisis that had passed.
Yet the ESA’s legacy is more than an artifact of a bygone moment. It offers at least three lessons that remain strikingly relevant today:
As we now scramble to make up for lost time, today’s clean energy push requires institutions that can survive electoral swings. Nearly half a century after the ESA, we must find our way back to that type of institutional imagination to meet the energy challenges we still face.
On Google’s energy glow up, transmission progress, and South American oil
Current conditions: Nearly two dozen states from the Rockies through the Midwest and Appalachians are forecast to experience temperatures up to 30 degrees above historical averages on Christmas Day • Parts of northern New York and New England could get up to a foot of snow in the coming days • Bethlehem, the West Bank city south of Jerusalem in which Christians believe Jesus was born, is preparing for a sunny, cloudless Christmas Day, with temperatures around 60 degrees Fahrenheit.
This is our last Heatmap AM of 2025, but we’ll see you all again in 2026!
Just two weeks after a federal court overturned President Donald Trump’s Day One executive order banning new offshore wind permits, the administration announced a halt to all construction on seaward turbines. Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum announced the move Monday morning on X: “Due to national security concerns identified by @DeptofWar, @Interior is PAUSING leases for 5 expensive, unreliable, heavily subsidized offshore wind farms!” As Heatmap’s Jael Holzman explained in her writeup, there are only five offshore wind projects currently under construction in U.S. waters: Vineyard Wind, Revolution Wind, Coastal Virginia Offshore Wind, Sunrise Wind, and Empire Wind. “The Department of War has come back conclusively that the issues related to these large offshore wind programs create radar interference, create genuine risk for the U.S., particularly related to where they are in proximity to our East Coast population centers,” Burgum told Fox Business host Maria Bartiromo.
The new blanket policy is likely to slow progress on passing the big bipartisan federal permitting reform bill. The SPEED Act (if you need an explainer, read this one from Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo) passed in the House last week. But key Senate Democrats said they would not champion a bill with provisions they might otherwise support unless the legislation curbed federal agencies’ power to yank already-granted permits, a move clearly meant to thwart Trump’s “total war on wind.” Republican leaders in the House stripped the measure out at the last moment. On Monday afternoon, the senators called the SPEED Act “dead in the water.”
The Department of the Interior and the Forest Service greenlit the 500-kilovolt Cross-Tie transmission project to carry electricity 217 miles between substations in Utah and Nevada. Dubbed the “missing pathway” between two states with fast-growing solar and geothermal industries, the power line had previously won support from a Biden-era program at the Department of Energy’s Grid Deployment Office. Last week, the federal agencies approved a right-of-way for a route that crosses the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest and public land controlled by the Interior Department’s Bureau of Land Management. In a press release directing the public to official documents, the bureau said the project “supports the administration’s priority to strengthen the reliability and security of the United States electric grid.”
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Google parent Alphabet bought the data center and energy infrastructure developer Intersect for nearly $5 billion in cash. Google had already held a minority stake in the company. But the deal, which also includes assuming debt, allows the tech behemoth to “expand capacity, operate more nimbly in building new power generation in lockstep with new data center load, and reimagine energy solutions to drive U.S. innovation and leadership,” Sundair Pichai, the chief executive of Alphabet and Google, said in a statement.
The acquisition comes as Google steps up its energy development, with deals to commercialize all kinds of nascent energy technologies, including next-generation nuclear reactors, fusion, and geothermal. The company, as Heatmap's Matthew Zeitlin noted this morning, has also hired a team of widely respected experts to advance its energy work, including the researcher Tyler Norris and and the Texas grid analyst Doug Lewin. But Monday’s deal wowed industry watchers. “Damn, big tech is now just straight up acquiring power developers to scale up data centers faster,” Aniruddh Mohan, an electricity analyst at The Brattle Group consultancy, remarked on X. In response, the researcher Isaac Orr joked: “Next they buy out the utilities themselves.”
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The long duration energy storage developer Hydrostor has won final approval from California regulators for a 500-megawatt advanced compressed air energy storage project capable of pumping out eight hours of continuous discharge to the grid. With the thumbs up from the California Energy Commission, the Willow Rock Energy Storage Center will be “shovel ready” next year. The technology works by using electricity from wind and solar to power a compressor that pushes air into an underground cavern, displacing water, then capturing the heat generated during the compression and storing the energy in the pressurized chamber. When the energy is discharged, the water pressure forces the air up, and the excess heat warms the expanding air, driving a turbine to generate electricity. The plant would be Hydrostor’s first facility in the U.S. The company has another “late-stage” development underway in Australia, and 7 gigawatts of projects in the pipeline worldwide.

The world is awash in oil and prices are on track to keep falling as rising supply outstrips demand. At just 0.8 million barrels per day, predictions for growth in 2026 are the lowest in the last four years. But Brazil, Guyana, and Argentina will account for at least half of the expected global increase in production of crude. In its latest forecast, the U.S. Energy Information Administration said the three South American nations will account for 0.4 million barrels per day of the 0.8 million spike projected for 2026. The three countries — oddly enough one of the only potential trios on the mostly Spanish-speaking continent with three distinct languages, given Brazil’s Portuguese and Guyana’s English — comprised 28% of all global growth in 2025.
A fungal blight that gets worse as temperatures rise is killing conifers, including Christmas trees. But scientists at Mississippi State University have discovered a unique Leyland cypress tree at a Louisiana farm with a resistance to Passalora sequoia, the fast-spreading disease that attacks the needles of evergreens. In a statement, Jeff Wilson, an associate professor of ornamental horticulture at Mississippi State University, said that, prior to the study, “there had not been any research on Christmas trees in Mississippi since the late ‘70s or early ‘80s, but there is a real need for the research today.” May all your endeavors in the new year be as curious, civic-minded, and fruitful as that. Wishing you all a merry Christmas, happy New Year, and what I hope is a restful time off until we return to your inbox in January.
The hyperscaler is going big on human intelligence to help power its artificial intelligence.
Google is on an AI hiring spree — and not just for people who can design chips and build large language models. The tech giant wants people who can design energy systems, too.
Google has invested heavily of late in personnel for its electricity and infrastructure-related teams. Among its key hires is Tyler Norris, a former Duke University researcher and one of the most prominent proponents of electricity demand flexibility for data centers, who started in November as “head of market innovation” on the advanced energy team. The company also hired Doug Lewin, an energy consultant and one of the most respected voices in Texas energy policy, to lead “energy strategy and market design work in Texas,” according to a note he wrote on LinkedIn. Nathan Iyer, who worked on energy policy issues at RMI, has been a contractor for Google Clean Energy for about a year. (The company also announced Monday that it’s shelling out $4.5 billion to acquire clean energy developer Intersect.)
“To me, it’s unsurprising. I love the work of all the people they’ve been hiring,” Peter Freed, a former Meta energy executive and the founder of Near Horizon Group, told me. “Google has always been willing to do bleeding edge stuff — that’s one of the cool things about Google.”
Google declined to comment on its staffing moves, but other figures who have extensive energy experience argued that working at a big energy buyer like Google is a necessary step to becoming a well-rounded energy pro.
“I think that evangelists, technologists, compliance officers, and visionaries all have to be one and the same person, or a small gathering of a few people who can have and share all of those roles simultaneously,” Arushi Sharma Frank, an energy industry consultant and investor, told me of Google’s recent hiring push. She also told me that Spencer Cummings, the deputy chief digital officer at the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, will soon join Google’s public service team, posting about the hire on LinkedIn. (Cummings himself did not respond to a request for comment.)
The spate of hiring suggests that Google sees its data center buildout and its longstanding clean energy goals as intertwined, and is throwing all the talent it can at the problem in an attempt to avoid unnecessary greenhouse gas emissions.
Google has been developing clean energy resources for almost 20 years, and has long been one of the most aggressive and innovative tech giants in creating new financial and legal structures to help support them.
After first matching its annual energy usage with renewable output in 2017, the company has since upped its goal, aiming to match its hour-by-hour energy use in the areas where its operations are actually located. This means making investments beyond wind and solar into more capital intensive and complex power generation, projects such as geothermal or even advanced nuclear.
At the same time, big tech companies are already facing political blowback from their buildouts of multi-billion-dollar, gigawatt-scale data centers for artificial intelligence at a time of rising electricity prices. Google has also been a leader in attempting to head off those issues, including by contracting with utilities to commit to paying the transmission costs over the long term so that they don’t get spread to the rest of a utility’s customers. Another way might be to have data centers work more intermittently, at times when the grid is least stressed, and thus not increase peak demand — i.e. the method Norris has proposed.
Google’s recent hiring indicates that these are strategies it will continue to refine as its data center buildout moves forward. Norris wrote on X that he’ll “be focused on identifying and advancing innovations to better enable electricity markets to accommodate AI-driven demand and clean energy technologies.” Lewin, meanwhile, said that his remit will be “creating and implementing strategies to integrate data centers into the grid in ways that lower costs for all energy consumers while strengthening the grid.”
That Google is after energy talent in Texas should be no surprise — the company is planning to invest some $40 billion in Texas alone through 2027, Google chief executive Sundar Pichai wrote on LinkedIn.
“In general, all of the tech companies are so flat out trying to deliver any megawatt of data center capacity they possibly can,” Freed said.
In its most recent quarter alone, Google’s parent company Alphabet spent $24 billion on capital expenditures, the “vast majority” of which was “technical infrastructure” split between servers, data centers, and networking equipment, Anat Ashkenazi, Alphabet’s chief financial officer, said in the company’s third quarter earnings call in October. Ashkenazi said that full-year capital expenditures would be between $91 billion and $95 billion this year — and that 2026 would see a “significant increase.”
That spending “will continue to put pressure” on profits, Ashkenazi said, and specifically called “related data center operation costs, such as energy” a factor in that.
The data center buildout also puts more pressure on Google’ sustainability goals. “While we remain committed to our climate moonshots, it’s become clear that achieving them is now more complex and challenging across every level,” the company said in its 2025 environmental report. The issue, Google said, was a mismatch between accelerating demand for energy and available supply of the clean stuff.
The “rapid evolution of AI” — an evolution that is being actively spurred on by Google — “may drive non-linear growth in energy demand, which makes our future energy needs and emissions trajectories more difficult to predict,” the company said in the report. As for clean energy, “a key challenge is the slower-than-needed deployment of carbon-free energy technologies at scale, and getting there by 2030 will be very difficult.”
It’s not lost on people — okay, not lost on me — that many of these Google hires are some of the most prominent voices in energy and electricity policy today, with largely independent platforms now being absorbed into a $3.7 trillion company. But while this might be a loss for the media industry as the roster of experts available for us to consult gets absorbed into the Googleplex, it’s likely a good thing for energy policy development overall, Sharma Frank said.
“I think that we are under-indexing in this country largely on how important it actually is for strong public voices to go inside impact-creation companies," she told me, adding — “and then for those companies to eventually release those people back out into the wild so that they can drive impact in new ways.”