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Later this week, Vice President Kamala Harris will give the first major policy speech of her campaign focused on tackling the “rising cost of living,” according to early press reports. That includes the skyrocketing cost of housing — but of course, you don’t need me to tell you that.
The housing shortage is now perhaps America’s defining economic problem. Over the past two decades, the median cost of housing in America — for renters and for owners alike — has grown much faster than the median income; more than 90% of Americans live in a place where housing costs have outstripped income growth.
Housing is in such short supply that it is distorting and holding back the country’s economy. This morning, the Labor Department announced that prices rose only 2.9% over the past year, a welcome signal that inflation has finally returned to a normal rate. The inflation that we’re still experiencing is driven, above all, by housing, which was responsible for a whopping 90% of the monthly increase in prices.
Friday’s speech is meant to fill out Harris’s relatively skinny set of policy proposals; so far, her team has yet to announce any real deviation from the Biden administration’s climate policy. But I would encourage her — and them — to see housing policy as a climate policy issue. If America hopes to reach net-zero by 2050, then one of the easiest and cheapest ways for it to do so will be to build more housing, especially in cities and transit-connected suburbs.
In America, where you live determines how much carbon dioxide you emit. That’s somewhat less of an issue in other countries that have retained older and more walkable development patterns. But here, half a century of sprawling suburban development has made a high-emissions-lifestyle all but compulsory. If you live in New York, Washington, D.C., or another walkable city, then your carbon emissions are substantially lower than if you live in the suburbs or exurbs. In the country’s sprawling suburbs — not only in the Sunbelt, but also in New Jersey, Maryland, and California — carbon emissions are much higher.
That’s because where you live basically determines how much you drive — and driving is America’s biggest climate problem. The transportation sector is the most carbon-intensive part of America’s economy, generating more emissions than any other activity, and cars and trucks are responsible for most of those emissions. By one estimate, cars and trucks create perhaps 40% of America’s carbon emissions. (That estimate includes the greenhouse gases emitted by manufacturing cars and trucks.) Even in 2030, when millions more Americans have purchased electric vehicles, driving is still expected to dominate the country’s emissions portfolio, according to the Rhodium Group, a private energy analysis company.
So if we want to cut emissions, we should make it as easy as possible for Americans not to drive — or to drive only when they want to. But right now, housing is critically undersupplied in the cities and suburbs where that is possible. Freddie Mac, a federally-backed enterprise that supports the housing market, estimated in 2018 that America had roughly 2.5 million fewer homes than it needed; it has since updated that number to 3.8 million. Many of these housing shortages are worst in the cities where economic growth has been most profound. In the 2010s, New York permitted fewer new housing units than in the 2000s, or even the 1960s.
“Oftentimes, the climate-friendly choice is more expensive, or you’re trying to get people to embrace something they wouldn’t always embrace,” Ben Furnas, the former director of the New York City mayor’s office for climate and sustainability, told me. But that isn’t the case for building more housing in dense, walkable, and transit-affiliated areas, he said.
“The prices in all of these places suggest there’s huge pent-up demand for people to live in these places,” he said. “And even just lowering the regulatory barriers to let that kind of development happen and that kind of growth occur would both make it more affordable, and let people live closer to their families, and be good for the climate in terms of per capita emissions.”
Housing is more than a climate issue for driving-related reasons, though. America’s buildings are responsible for about a third of the country’s carbon emissions. Most of those emissions come from heating and cooling, as well as from generating hot water. But it is cheaper and more energy efficient to do that heating and cooling when houses share a wall or are in the same building. “Heating and cooling a 3,000-square-foot single family home is much more expensive than heating and cooling a 3,000-square-foot condominium in a city,” Paul Williams, the executive director of the Center for Public Enterprise, told me. “The heating loss and cooling loss is much lower in apartment buildings than in single family homes, so having those levels of density matters a lot.”
This is not a millennial problem. America has been underbuilding housing for a long time, and much of that supply shortfall is due to overly restrictive zoning codes at the local level. Even as president, however, Harris has ways to nudge cities to build more. A bipartisan group of lawmakers has proposed the “YIMBY Act,” which would fund cities and states to pursue a race-to-the-top-style effort to loosen housing restrictions. Even without help from Congress, a Harris administration could create a national housing construction fund to provide steady financial support to build new multifamily housing, so that the construction of new apartments and condos doesn’t stop when interest rates rise or the economy hits a snag. Finally, Harris could use the bully pulpit to push local governments — especially in Democratic-leaning states with their own forward-looking climate policies — to drop rules that restrict multifamily development, enforce parking minimums, or prevent the construction of single-stair buildings.
These policies don’t have to transform American society to do a lot of good. “Even a difference between a long drive and a short drive also makes a climate difference,” Furnas, who now runs the 2030 Project, Cornell University’s climate initiative, said. “If you live in a duplex in a somewhat walkable area, one of the two parents drives to work and the other takes the bus, and they can walk to the kid’s school or a grocery store,” that is much more pleasant — and will have much lower emissions — than a scenario where both parents must drive everywhere. It will also be cheaper.
Harris doesn’t need to sound like a radical on these policies, in other words. And she doesn’t even need to do anything more than nod at them. (If I were giving her political advice, I’d say that she doesn’t need to spend much time talking about climate policy between now and November 5 — although as a climate journalist, of course, I feel differently — but perhaps that’s a topic for another column.) But they are basically the free money of America’s climate transition — they would cut inflation, reduce greenhouse gases, and create more pleasant places to live. Should she win the White House, she should pursue them aggressively.
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It was a curious alliance from the start. On the one hand, Donald Trump, who made antipathy toward electric vehicles a core part of his meandering rants. On the other hand, Elon Musk, the man behind the world’s largest EV company, who nonetheless put all his weight, his millions of dollars, and the power of his social network behind the Trump campaign.
With Musk standing by his side on Election Day, Trump has once again secured the presidency. His reascendance sent shock waves through the automotive world, where companies that had been lurching toward electrification with varying levels of enthusiasm were left to wonder what happens now — and what benefits Tesla may reap from having hitched itself to the winning horse.
Certainly the federal government’s stated target of 50% of U.S. new car sales being electric by 2030 is toast, and many of the actions it took in pursuit of that goal are endangered. Although Trump has softened his rhetoric against EVs since becoming buddies with Musk, it’s hard to imagine a Trump administration with any kind of ambitious electrification goal.
During his first go-round as president, Trump attacked the state of California’s ability to set its own ambitious climate-focused rules for cars. No surprise there: Because of the size of the California car market, its regulations helped to drag the entire industry toward lower-emitting vehicles and, almost inevitably, EVs. If Trump changes course and doesn’t do the same thing this time, it’ll be because his new friend at Tesla supports those rules.
The biggest question hanging over electric vehicles, however, is the fate of the Biden administration’s signature achievements in climate and EV policy, particularly the Inflation Reduction Act’s $7,500 federal consumer tax credit for electric vehicles. A Trump administration looks poised to tear down whatever it can of its predecessor’s policy. Some analysts predict it’s unlikely the entire IRA will disappear, but concede Trump would try to kill off the incentives for electric vehicles however he can.
There’s no sugar-coating it: Without the federal incentives, the state of EVs looks somewhat bleak. Knocking $7,500 off the starting price is essential to negate the cost of manufacturing expensive lithium-ion batteries and making EVs cost-competitive with ordinary combustion cars. Consider a crucial model like the new Chevy Equinox EV: Counting the federal incentive, the most basic $35,000 model could come in under the starting price of a gasoline crossover like the Toyota RAV4. Without that benefit, buyers who want to go electric will have to pay a premium to do so — the thing that’s been holding back mass electrification all along.
Musk, during his honeymoon with Trump, boasted that Tesla doesn’t need the tax credits, as if daring the president-elect to kill off the incentives. On the one hand, this is obviously false. Visit Tesla’s website and you’ll see the simplest Model 3 listed for $29,990, but this is a mirage. Take away the $7,500 in incentives and $5,000 in claimed savings versus buying gasoline, and the car actually starts at about $43,000, much further out of reach for non-wealthy buyers.
What Musk really means is that his company doesn’t need the incentives nearly as bad as other automakers do. Ford is hemorrhaging billions of dollars as it struggles to make EVs profitably. GM’s big plan to go entirely electric depended heavily on federal support. As InsideEVsnotes, the likely outcome of a Trump offensive against EVs is that the legacy car brands, faced with an unpredictable electrification roadmap as America oscillates between presidents, scale back their plans and lean back into the easy profitably of big, gas-guzzling SUVs and trucks. Such an about-face could hand Tesla the kind of EV market dominance it enjoyed four or five years ago when it sold around 75% of all electric vehicles in America.
That’s tough news for the climate-conscious Americans who want an electric vehicle built by someone not named Elon Musk. Hundreds of thousands of people, myself included, bought a Tesla during the past five or six years because it was the most practical EV for their lifestyle, only to see the company’s figurehead shift his public persona from goofy troll to Trump acolyte. It’s not uncommon now, as Democrats distance themselves from Tesla, to see Model 3s adorned with bumper stickers like the “Anti-Elon Tesla Club,” as one on a car I followed last month proclaimed. Musk’s newest vehicle, the Cybertruck, is a rolling embodiment of the man’s brand, a vehicle purpose-built to repel anyone not part of his cult of personality.
In a world where this version of Tesla retakes control of the electric car market, it becomes harder to ditch gasoline without indirectly supporting Donald Trump, by either buying a Tesla or topping off at its Superchargers. Blue voters will have some options outside of Tesla — the industry has come too far to simply evaporate because of one election. But it’s also easy to see dispirited progressives throwing up their hands and buying another carbon-spewing Subaru.
Republicans are taking over some of the most powerful institutions for crafting climate policy on Earth.
When Republicans flipped the Senate, they took the keys to three critical energy and climate-focused committees.
These are among the most powerful institutions for crafting climate policy on Earth. The Senate plays the role of gatekeeper for important legislation, as it requires a supermajority to overcome the filibuster. Hence, it’s both where many promising climate bills from the House go to die, as well as where key administrators such as the heads of the Department of Energy and the Environmental Protection Agency are vetted and confirmed.
We’ll have to wait a bit for the Senate’s new committee chairs to be officially confirmed. But Jeff Navin, co-founder at the climate change-focused government affairs firm Boundary Stone Partners, told me that since selections are usually based on seniority, in many cases it’s already clear which Republicans are poised to lead under Trump and which Democrats will assume second-in-command (known as the ranking member). Here’s what we know so far.
This committee has been famously led by Joe Manchin, the former Democrat, now Independent senator from West Virginia, who will retire at the end of this legislative session. Energy and Natural Resources has a history of bipartisan collaboration and was integral in developing many of the key provisions in the Inflation Reduction Act — and could thus play a key role in dismantling them. Overall, the committee oversees the DOE, the Department of the Interior, the U.S. Forest Service, and the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, so it’s no small deal that its next chairman will likely be Mike Lee, the ultra-conservative Republican from Utah. That’s assuming that the committee's current ranking member, John Barrasso of Wyoming, wins his bid for Republican Senate whip, which seems very likely.
Lee opposes federal ownership of public lands, setting himself up to butt heads with Martin Heinrich, the Democrat from New Mexico and likely the committee’s next ranking member. Lee has also said that solving climate change is simply a matter of having more babies, as “problems of human imagination are not solved by more laws, they’re solved by more humans.” As Navin told me, “We've had this kind of safe space where so-called quiet climate policy could get done in the margins. And it’s not clear that that's going to continue to exist with the new leadership.”
This committee is currently chaired by Democrat Tom Carper of Delaware, who is retiring after this term. Poised to take over is the Republican’s current ranking member, Shelley Moore Capito of West Virginia. She’s been a strong advocate for continued reliance on coal and natural gas power plants, while also carving out areas of bipartisan consensus on issues such as nuclear energy, carbon capture, and infrastructure projects during her tenure on the committee. The job of the Environment and Public Works committee is in the name: It oversees the EPA, writes key pieces of environmental legislation such as the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act, and supervises public infrastructure projects such as highways, bridges, and dams.
Navin told me that many believe the new Democratic ranking member will be Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island, although to do so, he would have to step down from his perch at the Senate Budget Committee, where he is currently chair. A tireless advocate of the climate cause, Whitehouse has worked on the Environment and Public Works committee for over 15 years, and lately seems to have had a relatively productive working relationship with Capito.
This subcommittee falls under the broader Senate Appropriations Committee and is responsible for allocating funding for the DOE, various water development projects, and various other agencies such as the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.
California’s Dianne Feinstein used to chair this subcommittee until her death last year, when Democrat Patty Murray of Washington took over. Navin told me that the subcommittee’s next leader will depend on how the game of “musical chairs” in the larger Appropriations Committee shakes out. Depending on their subcommittee preferences, the chair could end up being John Kennedy of Louisiana, outgoing Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, or Lisa Murkowski of Alaska. It’s likewise hard to say who the top Democrat will be.
Inside a wild race sparked by a solar farm in Knox County, Ohio.
The most important climate election you’ve never heard of? Your local county commissioner.
County commissioners are usually the most powerful governing individuals in a county government. As officials closer to community-level planning than, say a sitting senator, commissioners wind up on the frontlines of grassroots opposition to renewables. And increasingly, property owners that may be personally impacted by solar or wind farms in their backyards are gunning for county commissioner positions on explicitly anti-development platforms.
Take the case of newly-elected Ohio county commissioner – and Christian social media lifestyle influencer – Drenda Keesee.
In March, Keesee beat fellow Republican Thom Collier in a primary to become a GOP nominee for a commissioner seat in Knox County, Ohio. Knox, a ruby red area with very few Democratic voters, is one of the hottest battlegrounds in the war over solar energy on prime farmland and one of the riskiest counties in the country for developers, according to Heatmap Pro’s database. But Collier had expressed openness to allowing new solar to be built on a case-by-case basis, while Keesee ran on a platform focused almost exclusively on blocking solar development. Collier ultimately placed third in the primary, behind Keesee and another anti-solar candidate placing second.
Fighting solar is a personal issue for Keesee (pronounced keh-see, like “messy”). She has aggressively fought Frasier Solar – a 120 megawatt solar project in the country proposed by Open Road Renewables – getting involved in organizing against the project and regularly attending state regulator hearings. Filings she submitted to the Ohio Power Siting Board state she owns a property at least somewhat adjacent to the proposed solar farm. Based on the sheer volume of those filings this is clearly her passion project – alongside preaching and comparing gay people to Hitler.
Yesterday I spoke to Collier who told me the Frasier Solar project motivated Keesee’s candidacy. He remembered first encountering her at a community meeting – “she verbally accosted me” – and that she “decided she’d run against me because [the solar farm] was going to be next to her house.” In his view, he lost the race because excitement and money combined to produce high anti-solar turnout in a kind of local government primary that ordinarily has low campaign spending and is quite quiet. Some of that funding and activity has been well documented.
“She did it right: tons of ground troops, people from her church, people she’s close with went door-to-door, and they put out lots of propaganda. She got them stirred up that we were going to take all the farmland and turn it into solar,” he said.
Collier’s takeaway from the race was that local commissioner races are particularly vulnerable to the sorts of disinformation, campaign spending and political attacks we’re used to seeing more often in races for higher offices at the state and federal level.
“Unfortunately it has become this,” he bemoaned, “fueled by people who have little to no knowledge of what we do or how we do it. If you stir up enough stuff and you cry out loud enough and put up enough misinformation, people will start to believe it.”
Races like these are happening elsewhere in Ohio and in other states like Georgia, where opposition to a battery plant mobilized Republican primaries. As the climate world digests the federal election results and tries to work backwards from there, perhaps at least some attention will refocus on local campaigns like these.