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Why power lines are harder to build than pipelines

How hard is it to build big clean-energy infrastructure in America? Look at SunZia.
When completed, the more-than-500-mile power line is meant to ferry electricity from a massive new wind farm in New Mexico to the booming power markets of Arizona and California. When finally built, SunZia will be the largest renewable project in the United States, if not the Western Hemisphere.
But as I detail in a recent investigation for Heatmap, it has taken too long — much too long — to build. Nearly two decades have elapsed since a project developer first asked the federal government for permission to build SunZia.
Since it was first proposed, SunZia has endured seemingly endless environmental studies and lawsuits. It has been bought, sold, and bargained over. The end result is that a project first conceived in 2006 — which was expected to operate in 2013 — is now due to open in 2026.
That is a massive problem, because confronting climate change will require the country to build dozens of new long-distance power lines like SunZia. If the United States wants to meet its Paris Agreement goal by 2050, then it will have to triple the size of its power grid in just 26 years, according to Princeton’s Net Zero America study. (That research was led by Jesse Jenkins, who co-hosts Heatmap’s “Shift Key” podcast with me.)
The country is not on track to meet that goal. My story on SunZia set out to determine why.
Here are three major takeaways from my investigation:
At a fundamental level, a power line and a natural gas pipeline aren’t so different: Both move a large amount of energy over a long distance.
Yet it is much easier to build a natural gas pipeline than a transmission line, and they face very different regulatory hurdles in America. When a company proposes a new transmission line, it must get permission from every state whose borders it plans to cross. This can result in an arduous, years-long process of application, study, and approval.
That same obstacle does not hinder gas developers. When a company proposes a new natural gas pipeline, it can get many of its permits handled by a single federal agency, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission. FERC is a one-stop shop for gas pipeline developers, organizing and granting state-level permits through a streamlined process.
(To be sure, natural gas pipelines sometimes need permits from other federal agencies — such as the Bureau of Land Management — before they can begin construction. But transmission developers need to get permits from those other federal agencies, too.)
But not all of the obstacles are regulatory. Transmission and renewable projects simply look different than pipelines, which can make environmentalists and the public more skeptical of them. Even though pipelines can leak or spill, they can be buried or built closer to the ground than power lines, and therefore pose less of a visual disturbance to the landscape.
In recent years, much of the controversy around SunZia has focused on the San Pedro Valley, a gorgeous desert landscape northeast of Tucson, Arizona. SunZia must pass through the valley to connect to a power station near Phoenix.
Two Native American tribes — the Tohono O'odham Nation and the San Carlos Apache Tribe — sued to block SunZia last year. They argue that the valley has cultural value and must be preserved intact and undiminished.
But the valley is already home to a large natural gas pipeline, mostly — but not entirely — buried underground. (The pipeline is on pylons near Redington, Arizona, where it crosses the San Pedro River.)
In an interview, a leader at the Center for Biological Diversity, an environmentalist group that joined the tribes’ lawsuit, said that SunZia’s proposed power line is problematic in part because it will be so tall.
“There are no 200-foot large power lines going through the San Pedro Valley,” Robin Silver, the leader, told me. “The gas pipeline doesn’t have 200 foot towers.”
If environmentalists focus on a project’s visual prominence, then pipelines will virtually always win out over transmission lines.
A federal judge dismissed the tribes’ lawsuit last month. A representative of the Tohono O'odham Nation did not respond to multiple requests for comment.
In permitting debates, conservationists and clean energy developers can often become enemies. Traditional conservationists seek to slow down the permitting process as much as possible and move a project away from a treasured or sensitive area, while developers and climate hawks want to build clean energy infrastructure quickly and efficiently.
These fights often play out as costly lawsuits over the National Environmental Policy Act, a 1970 law that requires the government to study the environmental impact of every decision that it makes. Advocates and opponents wind up battling in court over whether or not a project’s environmental impact has been sufficiently studied.
That’s not what happened with SunZia. Some environmentalists and traditional conservation groups, such as the Audubon Society, now praise SunZia’s process.
It wasn’t always that way. During the early 2010s, SunZia’s proposal to cross the Rio Grande in New Mexico was just as controversial as its San Pedro Valley route. The project’s developer wanted to build power lines near a site where tens of thousands of migratory birds, including sandhill cranes, spend the winter.
That changed after the Defense Department forced a major rethink of the line in 2018. Soon after that, Pattern Energy, a San Francisco-based energy developer, took over the project.
Pattern took a different approach than its predecessor and partnered with environmental groups to learn how it could build the power line in the least intrusive way.
It conducted original research on how sandhill cranes fly, and — based on that research — moved the power line to the place where it would interfere with birds the least. It also purchased and donated an old farm property and the accompanying water rights so a wildlife refuge could rebuild habitat for the birds.
Pattern also agreed to illuminate the transmission line with an experimental infrared system to make it more visible to birds.
These changes, which also allowed Pattern to avoid a Defense Department site, were so extensive that it had to apply for a new federal permit.
“Pattern being a company that was willing to have discussions with us in good faith — and that conversation happening before the re-permitting process — was, I think, really important,” Jon Hayes, a wildlife biologist and the executive director of Audubon Southwest, told me.
This collaborative relationship was possible in part because it was facilitated by Senator Martin Heinrich, a Democrat who represents New Mexico.
Heinrich, a climate hawk and the son of a utility worker, had long championed the SunZia project. So when the project ran into obstacles, he pushed the developer, environmentalists, and the Pentagon to negotiate over a better solution. His office remained deeply involved in the process throughout the 2010s, ultimately helping to broker an agreement over the Rio Grande that all parties supported.
“I firmly believe that when we work together, we can build big things in this country,” Heinrich told me in a statement.
Silver, the Center for Biological Diversity leader, told me that Heinrich’s involvement is the principal reason why SunZia has been praised in New Mexico but criticized in Arizona.
The Grand Canyon State doesn’t have elected officials who were willing to get involved in SunZia and push for a mutually beneficial solution, he said. (For much of the 2010s, Republicans held both of the state’s Senate seats.)
But a project’s ultimate success cannot rest on the quality or curiosity of its senators. Martin Heinrich, as a climate solution, doesn’t scale, and not every clean energy project will have a federal chaperone.
What’s more, America’s existing permitting system — which is channeled through its adversarial legal system — practically discourages cooperation. It pushes developers and their opponents to pursue aggressive and expensive legal campaigns against each other. These campaigns burn huge amounts of time and millions of dollars in legal fees — money that could be spent on decarbonizing the economy.
In order to meet America’s climate goals, developers must build dozens of projects like SunZia, all around the country, in the years to come. That will not happen under today’s permitting system. The country needs something better.
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Plus, a look into the future of solar and wind tax credits.
Heatmap AM and Daily will be off tomorrow for the July 4 holiday, but we’ll see you back here on Monday.
We’re staring down the barrel of a holiday weekend here in the United States, so I’ll keep it quick. Two things:
July 4 will mark the formal end of the solar and wind tax credits in the United States. These incentives — which date back in some form to 1978 — were repealed by President Trump’s tax cuts and spending law last year. In order to qualify for the last of these subsidies, solar and wind projects must “commence construction” by Saturday and be ready to generate power by the end of 2027.
Although the policies haven’t yet expired, there’s already chatter about bringing them back. Some Democrats want to revive the incentives should they win back Congress and the White House in two or six years. But 2029 or 2032 will likely look different than the earlier years of this decade, when the Inflation Reduction Act was written and passed: Power prices are higher now, the grid more congested, and the federal budget more constrained. So today, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo previews one of the next big questions in climate policy: Should Democrats try to bring back the solar and wind tax credits?
Her story is great, and one disconnect in particular stuck out to me. Among the climate and clean energy wonks Emily interviewed, “everyone” agreed that “in the near term, the most important thing Congress could do to help clean energy is break down some of the non-cost barriers to development through permitting reform.” Permitting reform, after all, has no fiscal cost and could be achieved during this Congress.
But Democratic lawmakers themselves sound far less sure about its importance. “I don’t think Democrats can engage in a serious way with Republicans on permitting reform,” Representative Jared Huffman, the ranking member on the House Natural Resources Committee, tells her. Read the rest of Emily’s story for more on how lawmakers are thinking about this question, which will only get more important as we get closer to ‘28.
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We’ve begun to get Q2 sales data for global automakers — and there’s actually decent news for electric vehicles. Some highlights:
Enjoy your holiday weekend, and remember: We’re now in Q3. Thanks, as always, for reading.
And not for the first time.
The Department of Energy proposed sweeping changes to its rules for updating efficiency standards for household appliances on Thursday. If finalized, they would hamstring future administrations from issuing tighter standards that would save consumers money as higher-performing air conditioners, stoves, washing machines, refrigerators, and the like hit the market.
While the agency portrayed the move as bringing an end to appliance standards writ large, that is not, in fact, what it is doing. The proposal would update the DOE’s so-called “Process Rule,” which governs how the agency develops standards, adding onerous requirements that will make it much more difficult to make any changes at all.
Under the Energy Policy and Conservation Act, the DOE is generally required to review existing standards every six years and assess whether recent technological advances warrant raising the bar for efficiency for any given product category. Updating the standards involves extensive technological and economic analysis, including looking at the cost to manufacturers and payback periods for consumers, as well as several rounds of public comment. After a new standard is issued, products that fail to meet that level of efficiency have to be taken off the market.
The new proposal delivers on the appliance industry’s request that President Trump restore the process he finalized during his first term, which Biden swiftly reversed. The changes include raising the minimum energy savings required to issue a new standard, adding several more steps and requirements to the rulemaking process for new standards, and using industry-developed test procedures to measure the efficiency of new products.
“This obstacle course of restrictions would hinder the department from carrying out its congressional mandate to protect consumers,” Andrew deLaski, executive director of the Appliance Standards Awareness Project, said in a statement. “We have products that keep getting more efficient and we need to embrace these technological advances, not reject them, especially as data centers strain our electric grid.”
Manufacturers welcomed the announcement. “AHAM applauds the Department of Energy for acting swiftly and delivering a proposed Process Rule that reflects years of constructive engagement with manufacturers, consumers, and other stakeholders,” Kelly Mariotti, the Association of Home Appliance Manufacturers’ president and CEO, said in a statement. The Air-Conditioning, Heating, and Refrigeration Institute also told me it “strongly supports DOE’s review” of the rules, although both groups said they were still working through the proposal.
The Energy Department issued a request for information last April seeking comments on potential changes to its procedures for revising energy conservation standards. At the time, the industry’s biggest trade groups urged the agency to “return to the 2020 version of the Process Rule.”
Trump has long been sympathetic to the industry’s ire over ever-tightening standards. He’s complained about dishwashers and heating systems that no longer work and showers that slow to a trickle. Now, Energy Secretary Chris Wright has joined in, grumbling about clothes dryers that run for multiple cycles.
The Process Rule changes threaten the potential to create significant consumer savings, however, according to the Appliance Standards Awareness Project. The group estimates that based on recent technological advances, the DOE’s next round of standard updates could save the average U.S. household $160 per year on their utility bills, and businesses a collective $15 billion in annual operating costs over 20 years. The group also projects that updated standards have the potential to reduce summer peak electricity demand 34 gigawatts by 2040, which would be like taking New York City off the grid. There are climate benefits, too, of course — an estimated reduction of 800 million metric tons of carbon emissions through 2050.
Even if finalized, Trump’s changes to the Process Rule will not be irreversible, and could continue to ping pong back and forth between administrations, “creating the kind of uncertainty and instability that makes it difficult for manufacturers to plan, invest, and innovate with confidence to the benefit of American consumers,” according to Mariotti of AHAM. The industry’s hope is for Congress to amend the underlying Energy Policy and Conservation act to “lock these reforms into statute,” she said. One such effort, the Don’t Mess With My Home Appliances Act introduced by Republican Representative Rick Allen of Georgia, passed the House in February.
The DOE’s proposal follows a memorandum of agreement the agency reached with the Environmental Protection Agency in March to take over as the lead agency running the EnergyStar labeling program, which identifies the most efficient appliances in a given category. The Process Rule changes will not affect EnergyStar, however.
The DOE is accepting public comments on its proposal for 30 days and will hold a public meeting on July 15.
Cities like New York, Philadelphia, and Toronto will see more days like this — but the effects of chronic not-so-extreme heat also build up.
The map of the Eastern United States has turned purple.
That’s the color used by the National Weather Service to distinguish the most severe category of extreme heat — a “rare and long-duration” event “with no overnight relief” — which spread like a bruise on Thursday morning from Chicago to Detroit and across the entire state of Ohio. From there, the purple splits north toward Toronto — where Portugal and Croatia will face each other tonight in a Round of 32 match — and down across the 13 original colonies, from Boston to New York City to Washington, D.C., Richmond, Charlotte, and Atlanta. An estimated 83 million Americans, or about a quarter of the population, are under the most extreme heat warning, with local temperatures cresting 100 degrees Fahrenheit; in many places, humidity will push the heat index up to 15 degrees higher.
That’s killer heat. Although the United States has a higher deployment of air conditioning than Europe, early tallies from the heat wave on the continent in late June found that some 20,000 people died from “heat-exacerbated causes” like heart attacks. In general, in New York City, an estimated 3% of deaths between May and September are due to the heat, a recent city report found — that’s about 500 deaths a year, close to the number of homicides during the city’s year of peak violence in 1990.
“Extreme heat is a chronic stressor that leads to hundreds of deaths in New York City,” Jeff Schlegelmilch, the director of the National Center for Disaster Preparedness at the Columbia Climate School, told me. “I’ve seen models showing the cumulative number of excess deaths over the next several decades could be in the tens of thousands.”
But while heat waves like the one this week bring much-needed attention to the public health crisis, it’s not actually extreme events that are driving those mortality figures. According to the city, about 80% of heat-related deaths in New York occur when temperatures are below 95 degrees Fahrenheit — that is, on hot, but not extremely hot, days. While risk increases with temperature in the way you’d expect, jumping sharply after 90 degrees Fahrenheit is crossed, there are more days in the still-dangerous 82- to 94-degree range on average each summer in New York (74, up from 52 in the 1970s) than extreme heat days like the ones occurring this week (of which there are about 11 per summer).
Schlegelmilch likened the moderate-temperature heat deaths to those during COVID, when it was the frontline workers who were paid hourly, couldn’t take days off, and who lived in more crowded homes who were the hardest hit. “We see those same patterns increasing exposure to heat,” he told me, noting that Latino and Black New Yorkers die from heat stress at rates two to three times higher, respectively, than white New Yorkers.
That said, the majority of people who die from heat-exacerbated causes do so in their homes, which “isn’t necessarily where the totality of the exposure to the heat is,” Schlegelmilch said. In fact, the number of people who die of direct heat stress in New York averages in the single digits per year, by comparison. “If you have to work outdoors, or you have to go back and forth to work and be exposed to the heat, and you go back into a home that is hot, and your body isn’t cooling off at night — this is actually something we’re very worried about tonight and tomorrow night — then the body doesn’t get that break.”
Part of the reason direct heat stress deaths are lower than those caused by chronic exposure is thanks to the agility, urgency, and attention of local governments, which issue heat warnings, promote cooling centers, and take preemptive measures during the worst heat waves — such as Toronto canceling its downtown World Cup watch party this afternoon. In New York this week, kiosks will help direct people to their nearest cooling centers, and local pools will stay open later. Meanwhile, to address more systemic heat impacts on the vulnerable, Mayor Zohran Mamdani has signed an executive order calling for the development and issuance of guidance for protecting outdoor workers and vendors during future heat events.
Because heat-related deaths often take the form of heart attacks, kidney disease, and diabetes, and therefore “don’t fit within the disaster declaration mechanisms” the same way floods or hurricanes do, “we don’t really have good policy to take care of this,” Schlegelmilch added. Particularly in cities with historically colder climates, such as Boston and New York, executive orders like Mamdani’s can be quick fixes, especially when followed by “lengthier and more thoughtful legislation and regulation.” But because the housing stock in such cities is older and, in some cases, even designed to retain heat, saving lives in the long term will require major infrastructure investments, ranging from tree planting to combat the urban heat island effect to expensive retrofitting.
“In the arc of history with disasters, we generally don’t do the things we need to do until it hurts too much,” Schlegelmilch said when I suggested that such a level of investment seems daunting, if not impossible, when spread out over the whole of New York, not to mention the Northeast. “It’s an open question how many people need to die, how many hours of productivity need to be lost, how much strain there is on infrastructure before everybody realizes this is not an abstract problem, that this is happening right now, and that it’s a hell of a lot more expensive to clean up after than to make these investments over the long run.”
An extreme heat wave might not be the primary driver of heat-related mortality in the United States, in other words, but it is certainly an opportunity to push for climate adaptation funding. “It’s not cheap at all,” Schlegelmilch agreed. “But it has to be part of the thinking, because there just isn’t another solution.”