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Goodhart’s Law tells us that “when a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.” The disagreements climate diplomats were having last week highlight why.
Last week, climate negotiators sparred in Bonn, Germany, over a New Collective Quantified Goal on climate finance. The NCQG, as it’s labeled, is a new target for how much money governments must mobilize to meet global climate investment needs consistent with goals set down in the United Nations’ landmark 2015 Paris Agreement. Reaching a consensus on the NCQG is the biggest item on negotiators’ plates between Bonn and COP29, the annual United Nations-led conference on climate change, happening this fall in Baku, Azerbaijan. But, true to Goodhart, the global climate targets negotiators are deadlocked over are not good measurements of progress, let alone ones that developed countries measured up to.
In 2009, at COP15 in Copenhagen, developed countries set a goal of mobilizing $100 billion annually for climate investments in developing countries by 2020. In 2015, as part of the Paris Agreement, the world’s climate diplomats agreed to set an updated goal — the NCQG — before 2025. In the interim, developed countries achieved their original goal, although years later than planned and amidst allegations that some of their grants and loans were merely existing sources of development financing dressed up as climate finance. That there is no fixed definition of the term “climate finance” makes the $100 billion target doubly fuzzy: Upon closer inspection, some spending classified as climate finance doesn’t really seem like it should count, while other spending seems to have circled back to donor country governments, consultants, and nonprofits.
Despite these measurement issues, negotiators at Bonn pressed for an ambitious updated target. There was consensus that the NCQG could not be less than $100 billion annually — but that is where agreement ended. While negotiators from developing countries ― particularly those from African and Asian governments ― called for an NCQG as high as $1.4 trillion annually over the next five years, developed country negotiators refused to commit to a figure, choosing instead to argue over which countries should be expected to pay. Held up over this disagreement, Bonn ended without a resolution even on what a range of possible NCQGs could look like.
Whatever its size, this target means nothing without a plan to deliver it. What’s more, the back-and-forth over the size of the bill and who foots it took up so much time last week that two other long-standing debates were neglected: The first over what type of financing the NCQG should prioritize ― a measurement issue ― and the second about the obstacles (or “disenablers,” as negotiators called them) in the way of achieving that level of financing — a target issue.
As to the type of financing, the share of total official development assistance sent from G7 governments and the European Union to African countries is at its lowest in 50 years, making it possible to conclude, as did an EU negotiator at Bonn, that “public resources alone will not suffice” to meet the NCQG. The growing scale of the climate challenge, weighed against this apparent (if arguably self-imposed) inadequate public spending by developed countries, has prompted policymakers to advocate for greater private-sector involvement in meeting global climate finance targets. The United States in particular has placed heavy emphasis on the need to “mobilize private capital.” This agenda has prompted Global North governments and the World Bank to attract private investors to decarbonization projects in developing countries.
Developing country negotiators and civil society advocates, meanwhile, have long criticized the fact that the majority of the climate financing we know about has come in the form of loans and not grants, and that most of the loans ― some of the ones from the public sector and all of the private loans ― are issued on market-rate rather than “concessional” terms. In other words, all this so-called help places an undue burden on the balance sheets of developing countries, especially as global interest rates stay high.
Some negotiators are looking to incorporate these arguments into the NCQG as a measure of the quality of the financing developing countries receive. And this is where the conversation around the obstacles begins.
One can argue that loans of any kind are better than nothing at all; long-term investments require long-term debt financing. But market-rate loans in the Global South carry prohibitively high interest rates, reflecting the greater risks that private investors think they face when investing. The International Energy Agency confirms that “the cost of capital for a typical solar PV plant in 2021 was between two‐ and three‐times higher in emerging and developing economies than in advanced economies and China.” While policymakers, particularly at the World Bank, are developing tools to “derisk” these investments such that they can be profitable at market interest rates, it’s still not clear that private sector creditors will respond with enthusiasm. Under these conditions, many climate-vulnerable communities are liable to be locked out of capital markets.
Debt, after all, is not inherently bad. High debt-to-GDP ratios don’t mean anything in and of themselves — indeed, taking on debt to finance crucial investments can (and should!) be prosperity-enhancing and increase a country’s future borrowing capacity.
But today’s global economic system is structured in such a way that debt places a needlessly heavy burden on developing countries, contributing to a “crowding out of crucial development spending,” per findings of the UN Development Programme. Almost 40% of developing countries are setting aside over 10% of their governments’ total revenues to cover interest payments; 62% of developing countries’ external public debt is owed to private creditors (again, at market rates). And these figures don’t include the debt that individual firms take on to finance, say, energy infrastructure. Even that requires the governments of developing countries and development banks to derisk low-return projects across much of the Global South, a process which can plant “budgetary time bombs” on those governments’ balance sheets. Where decarbonization is concerned, private balance sheets are also public liabilities.
Developing country governments and firms also face interest rate and foreign exchange shocks, as higher U.S. interest rates and the concomitant threat of currency depreciation strain their abilities to service external debts. The perverse effect is to prioritize hoarding dollars earned through exports as potential shock absorbers rather than channel them toward domestic investment goals. Loans become a millstone around a government’s policy goals, rather than a measurement of its ambitions.
These liquidity risks loom over climate-vulnerable countries. Take Egypt, where this summer is expected to be brutally hot enough to force its government to import more grain and more gas ― putting increased pressure on the already-volatile Egyptian pound ― and to seriously threaten labor productivity. Egypt’s latest Nationally Determined Contribution, its national climate plan, states that it needs approximately $35 billion per year between now and 2030 to meet its climate targets. Yet the International Monetary Fund expects Egypt to spend $50 billion a year on interest payments in that same period, all while Egypt’s recent bailout agreement with the IMF commits to “put debt firmly on a downward path.”
This debt-climate nexus or climate risk doom loop, exemplifies why developing country negotiators and civil society advocates have hesitated to embrace loan-based climate finance. Debt today need not “crowd out” debt-financed climate spending tomorrow. But that’s exactly what’s happening.
So where does that leave us? For all diplomats’ focus on the NCQG target, how they measure it does matter. As it stands, $100 million of climate finance in the form of market-rate loans to developing countries might seriously threaten their debt sustainability. But developed countries, the multilateral development banks, and the International Monetary Fund can change the nature of debt finance. They can commit to making debt easier to bear by offering lower interest rates and extending loan terms. They can issue more of this concessional debt, of course, displacing the panoply of private lenders that currently play in sovereign bond markets. They can reform their lending standards such that they no longer penalize borrowers for carrying high debt-to-GDP ratios when huge debt-financed investment is precisely what staving off climate change requires. And they can set up dollar swap lines to provide developing countries with the resources to manage interest rate and currency value shocks.
These strategies, if fleshed out in practical detail, can sidestep fickle private investors, contribute to an investment-friendly reform of the global macroeconomic architecture, and kickstart a virtuous cycle of green development around the world. That’s the target. Can we measure up to it?
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New research out today shows a 10-fold increase in smoke mortality related to climate change from the 1960s to the 2010.
If you are one of the more than 2 billion people on Earth who have inhaled wildfire smoke, then you know firsthand that it is nasty stuff. It makes your eyes sting and your throat sore and raw; breathe in smoke for long enough, and you might get a headache or start to wheeze. Maybe you’ll have an asthma attack and end up in the emergency room. Or maybe, in the days or weeks afterward, you’ll suffer from a stroke or heart attack that you wouldn’t have had otherwise.
Researchers are increasingly convinced that the tiny, inhalable particulate matter in wildfire smoke, known as PM2.5, contributes to thousands of excess deaths annually in the United States alone. But is it fair to link those deaths directly to climate change?
A new study published Monday in Nature Climate Change suggests that for a growing number of cases, the answer should be yes. Chae Yeon Park, a climate risk modeling researcher at Japan’s National Institute for Environmental Studies, looked with her colleagues at three fire-vegetation models to understand how hazardous emissions changed from 1960 to 2019, compared to a hypothetical control model that excluded historical climate change data. They found that while fewer than 669 deaths in the 1960s could be attributed to climate change globally, that number ballooned to 12,566 in the 2010s — roughly a 20-fold increase. The proportion of all global PM2.5 deaths attributable to climate change jumped 10-fold over the same period, from 1.2% in the 1960s to 12.8% in the 2010s.
“It’s a timely and meaningful study that informs the public and the government about the dangers of wildfire smoke and how climate change is contributing to that,” Yiqun Ma, who researches the intersection of climate change, air pollution, and human health at the Yale School of Medicine, and who was not involved in the Nature study, told me.
The study found the highest climate change-attributable fire mortality values in South America, Australia, and Europe, where increases in heat and decreases in humidity were also the greatest. In the southern hemisphere of South America, for example, the authors wrote that fire mortalities attributable to climate change increased from a model average of 35% to 71% between the 1960s and 2010s, “coinciding with decreased relative humidity,” which dries out fire fuels. For the same reason, an increase in relative humidity lowered fire mortality in other regions, such as South Asia. North America exhibited a less dramatic leap in climate-related smoke mortalities, with climate change’s contribution around 3.6% in the 1960s, “with a notable rise in the 2010s” to 18.8%, Park told me in an email.
While that’s alarming all on its own, Ma told me there was a possibility that Park’s findings might actually be too conservative. “They assume PM2.5 from wildfire sources and from other sources” — like from cars or power plants — “have the same toxicity,” she explained. “But in fact, in recent studies, people have found PM2.5 from fire sources can be more toxic than those from an urban background.” Another reason Ma suspected the study’s numbers might be an underestimate was because the researchers focused on only six diseases that have known links to PM2.5 exposure: chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, lung cancer, coronary heart disease, type 2 diabetes, stroke, and lower respiratory infection. “According to our previous findings [at the Yale School of Medicine], other diseases can also be influenced by wildfire smoke, such as mental disorders, depression, and anxiety, and they did not consider that part,” she told me.
Minghao Qiu, an assistant professor at Stony Brook University and one of the country’s leading researchers on wildfire smoke exposure and climate change, generally agreed with Park’s findings, but cautioned that there is “a lot of uncertainty in the underlying numbers” in part because, intrinsically, wildfire smoke exposure is such a complicated thing to try to put firm numbers to. “It’s so difficult to model how climate influences wildfire because wildfire is such an idiosyncratic process and it’s so random, ” he told me, adding, “In general, models are not great in terms of capturing wildfire.”
Despite their few reservations, both Qiu and Ma emphasized the importance of studies like Park’s. “There are no really good solutions” to reduce wildfire PM2.5 exposure. You can’t just “put a filter on a stack” as you (sort of) can with power plant emissions, Qiu pointed out.
Even prescribed fires, often touted as an important wildfire mitigation technique, still produce smoke. Park’s team acknowledged that a whole suite of options would be needed to minimize future wildfire deaths, ranging from fire-resilient forest and urban planning to PM2.5 treatment advances in hospitals. And, of course, there is addressing the root cause of the increased mortality to begin with: our warming climate.
“To respond to these long-term changes,” Park told me, “it is crucial to gradually modify our system.”
On the COP16 biodiversity summit, Big Oil’s big plan, and sea level rise
Current conditions: Record rainfall triggered flooding in Roswell, New Mexico, that killed at least two people • Storm Ashley unleashed 80 mph winds across parts of the U.K. • A wildfire that broke out near Oakland, California, on Friday is now 85% contained.
Forecasters hadn’t expected Hurricane Oscar to develop into a hurricane at all, let alone in just 12 hours. But it did. The Category 1 storm made landfall in Cuba on Sunday, hours after passing over the Bahamas, bringing intense rain and strong winds. Up to a foot of rainfall was expected. Oscar struck while Cuba was struggling to recover from a large blackout that has left millions without power for four days. A second system, Tropical Storm Nadine, made landfall in Belize on Saturday with 60 mph winds and then quickly weakened. Both Oscar and Nadine developed in the Atlantic on the same day.
Hurricane OscarAccuWeather
The COP16 biodiversity summit starts today in Cali, Colombia. Diplomats from 190 countries will try to come up with a plan to halt global biodiversity loss, aiming to protect 30% of land and sea areas and restore 30% of degraded ecosystems by 2030. Discussions will revolve around how to monitor nature degradation, hold countries accountable for their protection pledges, and pay for biodiversity efforts. There will also be a big push to get many more countries to publish national biodiversity strategies. “This COP is a test of how serious countries are about upholding their international commitments to stop the rapid loss of biodiversity,” said Crystal Davis, Global Director of Food, Land, and Water at the World Resources Institute. “The world has no shot at doing so without richer countries providing more financial support to developing countries — which contain most of the world’s biodiversity.”
A prominent group of oil and gas producers has developed a plan to roll back environmental rules put in place by President Biden, The Washington Post reported. The paper got its hands on confidential documents from the American Exploration and Production Council (AXPC), which represents some 30 producers. The documents include draft executive orders promoting fossil fuel production for a newly-elected President Trump to sign if he takes the White House in November, as well as a roadmap for dismantling many policies aimed at getting oil and gas producers to disclose and curb emissions. AXPC’s members, including ExxonMobil, ConocoPhillips, and Hess, account for about half of the oil and gas produced in the U.S., the Post reported.
A new report from the energy think tank Ember looks at how the uptake of electric vehicles and heat pumps in the U.K. is affecting oil and gas consumption. It found that last year the country had 1.5 million EVs on the road, and 430,000 residential heat pumps in homes, and the reduction in fossil fuel use due to the growth of these technologies was equivalent to 14 million barrels of oil, or about what the U.K. imports over a two-week span. This reduction effect will be even stronger as more and more EVs and heat pumps are powered by clean energy. The report also found that even though power demand is expected to rise, efficiency gains from electrification and decarbonization will make up for this, leading to an overall decline in energy use and fossil fuel consumption.
Ember
The world’s sea levels are projected to rise by more than 6 inches on average over the next 30 years if current trends continue, according to a new study published in the journal Nature. “Such rates would represent an evolving challenge for adaptation efforts,” the authors wrote. By examining satellite data, the researchers found that sea levels have risen by about .4 inches since 1993, and that they’re rising faster now than they were then. In 1993 the seas were rising by about .08 inches per year, and last year they were rising at .17 inches per year. These are averages, of course, and some areas are seeing much more extreme changes. For example, areas around Miami, Florida, have already seen sea levels rise by 6 inches over the last 31 years.
“As the climate crisis grows more urgent, restoring faith in government will be more important than ever.” –Paul Waldman writing for Heatmap about the profound implications of America becoming a low-trust society.
That means big, bad things for disaster relief — and for climate policy in general.
When Hurricanes Helene and Milton swept through the Southeast, small-government conservatives demanded fast and effective government service, in the form of relief operations organized by the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Yet even as the agency was scrambling to meet the need, it found itself targeted by far-right militias, who prevented it from doing its job because they had been led by cynical politicians to believe it wasn't doing its job.
It’s almost a law of nature, or at least of politics, that when government does its job, few people notice — only when it screws up does everyone pay attention. While this is nothing new in itself, it has increasingly profound implications for the future of government-driven climate action. While that action comes in many forms and can be sold to the public in many ways, it depends on people having faith that when government steps in — whether to create new regulations, invest in new technologies, or provide benefits for climate-friendly choices — it knows what it’s doing and can accomplish its goals.
As the climate crisis grows more urgent, restoring faith in government will be more important than ever. Unfortunately, simply doing the right things — like responding competently to disasters — won’t be enough to convince people that the next climate initiative will do what it’s supposed to.
The number of people expressing faith in government today is nearly as low as it has been in the half-century pollsters have been asking the question. That trust has bounced up and down a bit — it rose after September 11, then fell again during the disastrous Iraq War — but for the last decade and half, only around 20% of Americans say they trust the government most of the time.
It’s partisan, of course: People express more trust when their party controls the White House. And the decline of trust reaches beyond the government. Faith in most of the key institutions of American life — business, education, religion, news media — has fallen in recent decades, sometimes for good reason. The net result is a public skeptical that those in authority have the ability to solve complex problems.
Changing that perspective is extraordinarily difficult, often because of the nature of good and bad news: The former usually happens slowly and invisibly, while the latter often happens dramatically and all at once.
Take the program created in the Energy Department under George W. Bush to provide loans to innovative energy technologies. If most Americans had heard of it, it was because of one company: Solyndra, a manufacturer of innovative but overly expensive solar panels. Undercut by a decline in prices of traditional panels, the company went under, and its $535 million loan was never repaid. Republicans made Solyndra’s failure into a major controversy, claiming that the program showed that government investment in green technology was corrupt, ineffective, and wasteful.
What few people heard about was that the loan program overall not only turned a profit at the time (and for what it’s worth, it still does), it also provided help to many successful companies, even if a few failed — as any venture capital investor could tell you is inevitable. The successes included Tesla, which used its federal loan to ramp up production of the sedans that would turn it from a niche manufacturer of electric roadsters into what it is today. Needless to say, Elon Musk does not advertise the fact that his success was built on government help.
More recently, the hurricane response has shown how partisan polarization can be used to undermine trust in government — especially when Donald Trump is involved. Trump took the opportunity of the hurricanes to accuse the federal government of being both political and partisan, delivering help only to those areas that vote for Democrats. Soon after, he promised to do precisely what he falsely accused the Biden administration of doing, saying that if he is president again, he will withhold disaster aid from California unless Gov. Gavin Newsom changes the state’s water policies to be more to Trump’s liking. “And we’ll say, Gavin, if you don’t do it, we’re not giving any of that fire money that we send you all the time for all the fire, forest fires that you have,” Trump said. And in fact, in his first term Trump did try to withhold disaster aid from blue states.
What sounds like hypocrisy is actually something much more pernicious. As he often does, Trump is arguing not that he is clean and his opponents are dirty, but that everyone is dirty, and it’s just a question of whether government is in the hands of our team or their team. When he says he’ll “drain the swamp,” he’s telling people both that government is corrupt, and the answer is merely to change who gets the spoils. If you believe him, you’ll have no trust in government whatsoever, even if you might think he’ll use it in a way you’ll approve of.
We’ve seen again and again that people want government to perform well and get angry when it doesn’t, but they don’t reward competence when it happens. Which is why making sure systems operate properly and problems are solved is necessary but not sufficient to win back trust. Government’s advocates — especially those who are counting on it to undertake ambitious climate action both now and in the future — need not only to deliver, they have to get better at, for lack of a better word, propaganda. Policy success is not its own advertisement. And despite his ample policy achievements, Joe Biden has not been a charismatic and effective messenger — on the role of government, or much else.
Ronald Reagan used to say that the most frightening words in the English language were “I’m from the government and I’m here to help”; the oft-repeated quip was at the center of his incredibly successful effort to delegitimize government in the eyes of voters. To reverse the decline of trust so people will believe that government has the knowledge and ability to tackle climate change, the public needs to be reminded — often and repeatedly — of what government does well.
Touting past and present successes on climate — and disaster relief, and so many other ways the government solves problems every day — is essential to building support for future climate initiatives. Those successes are all around, it’s just that most people never hear about them or take them for granted. But promoting government as an engine of positive change should be as high a priority for climate advocates, including those who hold public office, as discrediting government was for Reagan and is for Trump.