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A conversation with the author of The Cactus Hunters: Desire and Extinction in the Illicit Succulent Trade

It was questionable if we needed a second season of Tiger King — or, let’s be honest, a first season. Regardless, if Netflix ever decides it’s interested in a story that features surprisingly charming criminals, IWT violations, and yes, even possibly murder (but without the tabloid tone and mullets), producers might look in the future to Jared D. Margulies’ delightful debut, The Cactus Hunters: Desire and Extinction in the Illicit Succulent Trade.
Wait, illicit succulent trade? you might be wondering. Oh yes.
From the cliffs of California and the deserts of Brazil to the markets of Seoul and the private greenhouses of Czechia, Margulies follows the extraction and relocation of plants so rare that they might only exist in one valley or mountainside in the world. Weaving in ample philosophy and research about what drives these sorts of obsessions — as well as his personal reflections as he, in turn, is captivated by the lovable, spiky plants — The Cactus Hunters is just the right balance of edgy and academic.
Last week, I caught up with Margulies about the process of researching the book, being mistaken for an undercover cop by his subjects, and the lie that is “the green thumb,” among other topics. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
You open The Cactus Hunters with a story about how you were going to study the illegal trade of tiger bones when you came across a story about saguaro cactus rustling that piqued your interest and sent you on this journey. What most stands out to you as the differences between the illegal trade of animals and animal products and the world of illegal cactus trading?
To clarify, I never actually got around to studying the illegal trade in tiger bones. I had encountered it a little bit in my past research on human-wildlife conflicts.
But there are a lot of important differences: One of the things that made the illegal plant trade so interesting to study, compared to illegal trade in animals, is that it receives a lot less attention, so there was just a lot more to learn that people hadn’t already researched. But also, the way that this material and these plants can move around the world — there are so many more options available because of the nature of plants. So if what you’re after is the genetics of the plant, to be able to grow them somewhere else in the world, there’s not just the one plant but there’s the cacti propagate, for instance. Pups. Their seeds. You can make cuttings of plants. None of these things are really available to people interested in illegal trade and animals. That affects supply chains and how these things can move around the world.
Also, because of the lack of attention to illegal plant trade compared to animal trade, the subject is a lot less criminalized. I would argue that my access to informants and research participants was a lot better because it did happen that, every now and then, people thought I was a cop. Or maybe, like, an undercover detective. But usually within pretty short order, they realized that wasn’t the case and I was generally interested in trying to understand their perspectives. I think that it would be a lot harder to develop trust within certain trades that are a lot more heavily criminalized.
Over the course of the book, you encounter the Indiana Jones of plants and the Robin Hood of cacti, among others. Can you talk a little about why these enthusiasts, who clearly care deeply about conservation, sometimes break the law by smuggling seeds or entire cacti out of the places where they naturally grow?
One of the fascinating things that really gripped me was this seeming contradiction, where you have people who are made out as conservation villains by certain actors seeing themselves as unsung conservation heroes. The reason for that is, for a lot of these collectors, they saw their community as really passionate people who wanted to get access to the plants that become objects of their desires. By and large, the people who want these plants aren’t trying to do harm to the species in the world, and they care a lot about them. But they also recognize that in their desire is something fairly insatiable and that people are going to go to lengths to get the plant that they have to go to.
For a lot of these collectors, they might see engaging in a kind of illegal activity as still a socially acceptable behavior, if it meant it got material out into the world in a way that people might want it. And the goal there, the long-term goal, is to try to reduce demand on wild harvesting of plants and wild populations. If you get a little bit of material out into the communities that delight in these plants, then you can start grafting them, propagating them, growing them from seed, and, in theory, get that material out into the world.
I wanted to take that perspective seriously. It’s a hard thing to study empirically and so it was important for me to try to be open to a really diverse set of opinions about the right way to do conservation.
You leave most of the sources in the book, including those working within the law, anonymous. Why did you make that decision?
The really short answer is, I was part of a larger research project called BIOSEC, which was run by Professor Rosaleen Duffy at the University of Sheffield in the Department of Politics and International Relations, and we were using a fairly symmetrical ethics approval process, or what in the U.S. we would call an institutional review board approval. Because a number of us were studying illicit economies, in order to ensure research-subject protection and anonymity and security, we were required to make all of our sources anonymous.
But this caused some issues because, on the one hand, it meant that everyone in the book is anonymous, even if they’re people who are law enforcement officials or botanists who would have probably really enjoyed having their names in the book. I regret that.
Most interesting, though, were the number of collectors who were mad at me because they’re also anonymous. One of the reasons for that was they saw anonymity as being suggestive of wrongdoing and for a lot of these people, they don’t feel like what they’re doing is wrong, necessarily, even if it’s against the law. They wanted their story told. I think one of the reasons I had good access to the kinds of interlocutors I had was because they felt like I was providing a space for them to get their version of the story out into the world.
You were asked to be an expert witness in a case against a South Korean smuggler who took thousands of plants from the California coast. How do you navigate moments like this, when your position as an illicit trade researcher is perhaps in tension with your own ethical code?
This was a really difficult decision for me, and I write about this. I went back and forth about whether or not to serve as an expert witness, which in this case just required writing a statement. I never had to go to court or, you know, be on a witness stand — thank goodness. But I go back and forth about if I would do it again.
I think that in the end, I chose to do it because I realized that my testimony would only serve to probably reduce the sentence that this person was facing. And I don’t say that because I think that what they were doing was okay. It was really bad and really harmful to this species of plant. I just don’t think that criminalization and incarceration actually do rehabilitative work or serve much function. It costs us a lot of money as taxpayers and causes harm.
It was complicated; I guess that’s how I would leave it. I debated whether or not to include [the story] in the book but I felt like, in the end, it would be wrong not to include it. I think that if people eventually found out I had served in that capacity, they might felt like I was trying to not disclose something. But yeah, I have some ambiguous feelings about it. In the end, what I was asked to actually do was very limited: I was just asked to put a value on these plants. But as I wrote in my letter to the judge, that value in monetary terms is such an arbitrary thing. The price of those plants has declined precipitously since I wrote that, and it had already gone down a lot since the person who sold them stole them. How interesting, though, that the court of law — at least in the United States — in order to assess the damage done to the state, it had to be valued in monetary terms.
I really liked the inclusion of the story. It’s interesting for a researcher of illicit and illegal trade to all of a sudden be dragged into the concrete legal system, and have it, you know, ask something of you.
Sometimes academics are hard on ourselves in that we think we put in all this work and do all this writing and no one actually reads it. And that’s not true. People do read your work when you publish it and you should think about who those people might be. They might be district attorneys for the state of California. People will use your work, and you should think from the outset about what the social implications of that might be. It was a big lesson for me.
At the end of the book, you write that your experiences in the cactus and succulent community have left you with hope that meaningful change is possible “not through the repressions of desire but through its celebration.” After spending so much time among people that some might call poachers, what makes you optimistic?
We have so many examples from other illicit economies where prohibition doesn’t work. I am concerned by a tendency to move in that direction. Given that we’re talking about plants — you know, as far as we know, this conversation could be different in 50 years — but we’re not having to really think about the welfare issues of, say, illegal trade in animals. There are pragmatic solutions to these problems. This material could get out into the world so that people who want these plants can get it in a way that doesn’t harm wild-growing species.
There’s still a ways to go in working through regulatory conventions to support those efforts. And importantly, in doing so, supporting the people who should have the most support, which I would argue are the communities in places in the world that have lived with these plants the longest.
I see hopeful promise in this, and I saw a whole lot of love. I really did. I saw a lot of love between people and plants, and what that can do for people in moving into developing more careful relations with plants and other species. I don’t have a large collection of cacti and succulents, but I do have some, and I have like a cactus right now that’s in flower. Do you want to see it?
Yes!
This is where I think it’s fun, to think about what plants can teach us—
Oh, it’s gorgeous!
This is a Mammillaria laui. Named for Alfred Lau, who I write about in one of the chapters of the book — a German who lived in Mexico, who has a lot of different species named after him. This is Mammillaria laui, subspecies subducta. It’s got this gorgeous crown of pink flowers.
I love having these plants. Specifically, I’ve started a small collection of plants that are associated with particular people that I wrote about, or that I thought about. Bringing some of that social history to our plants, I think, is a really nice thing that people can do. Learn about where our plants come from and the histories of how they got to where we are.
That’s kind of what set me off on this whole journey, anyway. I think there’s a lot of opportunity for thinking thoughtfully about the place of these plants in the world and how they travel and maybe, hopefully, that can help move us towards a more ethical kind of relation.
Are you worried now that once you collect all of the plants that are connected to your book, you’ll throw your whole collection out?
I don’t think I have a strong collector tendency, per se. I have been accused of being a low-key hoarder before. I’m excited to think about how I’m going to slowly develop a collection over time. Yeah, but your reference — the worst thing that can happen to a collector is completing a collection. Freud wrote about this in the context of completing his collection of statues and dying days later. This one collector who I went to see, I thought I was going to see a giant greenhouse of cacti, but I found a bunch of Mexican chili plants. Because he’d just tossed [the cacti collection] off, he was done with it. I don’t see myself going down that road but one never knows.
For someone reading this interview who might be interested in collecting, where would you say to start?
We need to get over this idea that cacti and succulent plants are great house plants because they don’t require any care. It’s not true. Everyone I know who’s had a succulent has killed it very quickly.
I killed mine.
Yeah, if you just throw a succulent on, like, a north-facing windowsill, it’s not going to do well, especially if you ignore it.
Also, get over the idea that there are natural people in the world with a green thumb — I think that is also nonsense. We just need to spend time learning about what these plants need. One of the ways you can do that is by paying attention to them.
In terms of obtaining material — you know, so much plant material can also just be found for free, gifted from friends or colleagues or the community. A lot of collector clubs, like, say, the Cactus and Succulent Society of America here in the U.S., I believe may even send you free seeds of cacti, and stuff like that.
The thing that I want to start doing is trying to grow cacti from seed. They’re slow-growing plants but I think it’d be really fun to actually watch that process unfold. And it’s quite easy to obtain seeds for a lot of these plants. Just, you know, be careful where you’re buying stuff from. Reputable nurseries are a good source. But be wary of buying from unknown people on the internet. That might be where people start to get into trouble.
Is there anything I haven’t asked you about that you’d like to let me know about your book or your experience writing it before I let you go?
I’m not too prescriptive at the end of the book about what I think the answer is. Some people may find that frustrating, like, “Oh, but you didn’t tell us like what should we do” or “What’s the right response?” One of the reasons for that was I just wanted to let people develop some of their own thoughts about this. But also it’s because the work isn’t done.
I’m developing some work right now dealing with illegal succulent trade in South Africa with some colleagues, both in South Korea but also in South Africa. I’m doing a new project on illicit Venus flytrap harvesting and the carnivorous plant trade. I’m trying to continue the process of thinking and learning with plants. But the work continues.
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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 Zarelli 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, Zarelli 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, Zarelli 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,” Zarelli said.
Rates were up 17% year over year in June, according to the latest Electricity Price Hub update, with another increase on the way.
With higher temperatures come higher electricity bills. Whether through higher seasonal charges or greater usage, Americans across the country were paying more for electricity in June.
In Virginia, the epicenter of the data center boom, the typical household electricity bill was $192 in June, up from $172 in June of last year, according to the latest data from the Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub. Rates, meanwhile, were about 18 cents per kilowatt-hour, compared to just over 15 cents in June of last year, a 12% hike. Rates were also up from the end of last year, when they were about 15.5 cents.
The rate increase is largely due to prices set by Virginia’s largest utility, Dominion. Its rates are up 8% so far this year, according to MIT researchers, and 17% over the past 12 months, the result of a base rate increase that took effect at the beginning of the year. The average base rate alone is up 7.5% year over year for the average Dominion customer.
But that’s not all: The fuel portion of the bill is rising $8 a month for the typical customer, Dominion said according to local media reports, as a result of rising costs. The fuel charge went into effect at the beginning of July. Already, Dominion customers are paying about $78 per month for the generation portion of their electricity bill, according to Heatmap-MIT data.
The price hike will likely increase pressure on Dominion as it seeks to sell itself to Florida utility and energy developer NextEra in a $67 billion deal announced in May.
Earlier this week, Virginia's lieutenant governor Ghazala Hashmi sent a detailed letter to the State Corporation Commission, Virginia’s utility regulator, with 64 questions about the proposed merger. She said the deal “carries unprecedented implications for Virginia’s consumers and regulatory landscape.”
Hashmi asked regulators to extend their review of the deal beyond the six-month period mandated by its utility regulations, writing that “forcing this process into the six-month timeline will render an already inadequate period completely unworkable.”
In May, when the deal was announced, NextEra said it would provide over $2 billion of bill credits over two years to Dominion customers in Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina, which Dominion executives estimated would add up to $10 per month over the two years.