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If you want to decarbonize concrete, it helps to understand the incredible scale of the problem.

To say that concrete poses a decarbonization challenge would be an understatement. Cement production alone is responsible for somewhere between 5 and 10% of global CO2 emissions [0], roughly two to four times more than aviation, a fact that even the construction industry is finally coming to grips with.
And yet the real problem with decarbonizing concrete isn’t the scale of its emissions, it’s the scale of concrete itself. There is simply a preposterous amount of the stuff. Contemplating concrete is like contemplating the universe — awesome, in the old God-fearing definition of the word.
Before we get into the jaw-dropping amount of concrete we produce every year, it’s worth briefly discussing how the stuff is made, and thus where its emissions come from.
Concrete is formed by mixing together cement (mostly calcium silicates), aggregates (such as sand and gravel), and water into a liquid slurry. The cement reacts with the water, forming a paste that binds the mixture into a single solid mass. Beyond concrete’s high strength and low cost, it’s these liquid beginnings that make concrete so useful. It can easily be formed into any shape and leveled with the help of gravity so you can walk on it or park a car 10 stories up on it. Essentially all modern concrete is also reinforced with steel bars, which provide tensile strength and arrest cracks.
So what about the emissions? Roughly 70-90% of the embodied carbon in concrete comes from manufacturing just the cement [1]. Partly this is because making cement is an energy-intensive process — limestone and clay are put into a kiln and heated around 2500 degrees Fahrenheit. But it’s also because the chemical reaction that turns the limestone into cement (known as calcination) releases CO₂ as a byproduct. Roughly 50-60% of cement’s carbon emissions are due to calcination [2], and thus wouldn’t be addressed by moving to less carbon-intensive electricity sources, like green hydrogen.
Now for the good stuff. Again, the most important thing to understand about concrete is the scale of its production. The world produces somewhere around 4.25 billion metric tons of cement annually (though estimates vary) [3], which works out to about 30 billion tons of concrete produced each year [4].
How much are 30 billion tons?
One way of looking at it is we produce around 4 metric tons, or just under 60 cubic feet (roughly a cube 4 feet on a side), of concrete for each person on the planet each year.
Another way of looking at it is to consider the total amount of mass, full stop, that civilization ingests each year. Estimates here vary quite a bit, but it seems to be in the neighborhood of 100 billion tons [5]. So of the total volume of material that gets extracted and used each year — including all mining, all oil drilling, all agriculture and tree harvesting — around 30% of it by mass goes toward making concrete. The amount of concrete produced each year exceeds the weight of all the biomass we use annually, and all the fossil fuels we use annually.
Total civilization annual material extraction, via Krausmann et al 2018. This is up to 2015, and has now exceeded over 90 Gt/year, with another ~8 Gt/year of recycled material.
Another way of looking at it is that the total mass of all plants on Earth is around 900 billion metric tons. So at current rates of production, it would take about 30 years to produce enough concrete to exceed all the Earth’s plant (dry) biomass.
Because humans have been producing concrete for a while, and because concrete tends to last a long time, we seem to be on the cusp of this happening. Elhacham et al 2020 estimate that total human-created mass (roughly half of which is concrete) reached the total weight of all Earth’s biomass sometime in 2020. Eyeballing their graph, concrete alone will exceed the total weight of all biomass sometime around 2040.
Anthropogenic mass vs biomass during the 20th century, via Elhacham et al 2020
In a pure mass-flow sense, human civilization is basically a machine for producing concrete and gravel (and to a lesser extent bricks and asphalt).
So civilization uses a lot of concrete. Where is it all going?
China, mostly. In recent history, China has been responsible for roughly half the world’s cement production, and by implication, concrete use [6]. The U.S., by comparison, only uses 2%, with Europe using another 5%.
Cement production by region, via Sanjuan et al 2020. Since cement production roughly tracks consumption (see here and here), we can also use this as a rough guide toward where concrete is used. Note that this gives yet another value for total global cement production of 4.65 Gt
Here’s another view from around 2010, showing what this has looked like over time (data after 2010 is a projection).
Cement consumption by region, via Altwair 2010
This gets summarized in the oft-repeated statistic that China used more cement in three years than the U.S. did in the entire 20th century.
But since China has a much larger population than the U.S., we can get a more intuitive understanding of this by looking at cement consumption per capita. Here’s per capita consumption sometime around 2015:
Per capita cement consumption by country, via Globbulk
We see that the official numbers from China make it a huge outlier in cement consumption, using around eight times as much per capita as the U.S. However, in per capita terms, some Middle Eastern countries exceed it. Saudi Arabia is higher, and Qatar, which is somewhere over 2,000 kg/capita, is so high it doesn’t even show up on the graph. It’s the combination of China’s huge population and its huge per-capita consumption that make it such an outlier in concrete production.
The official Chinese numbers are so huge, in fact, that some analysts suspect that they’re inflated, either by manipulating the data or by producing construction projects that don’t have actual demand (or both). The graph above also includes a more “realistic” estimate (which is still 3x as high as U.S. per-capita use).
What does all this concrete construction mean in practical terms? Well, China has somewhere around 50-60% of the floor space per capita as the U.S. does, or roughly as much living space per capita as most European countries [7]. This is the result of a massive trend toward urbanization over the last quarter century. Urbanization rates went from around 25% in 1990 to 60% in 2017, a period in which China’s population also increased by 250 million. In other words, in less than 30 years over 550 million moved into Chinese cities, and they all needed somewhere to live. By building enormous numbers of concrete high rises, in under 20 years China quintupled its urban residential floor space and doubled its residential floor space overall.
Residential floor space in China over time, via Pan 2020
Beyond China, we see high per capita rates of cement use in the rest of Southeast Asia, as well as the Middle East [8].
One reason you see this volume of concrete use in lower-income, urbanizing countries is that concrete construction is comparatively labor-intensive to produce. The materials for concrete are extremely cheap, and much of its cost in high-cost labor countries (such as the U.S.) is from the labor to produce it — building and setting up the formwork, laying out the reinforcing, placing the embeds, etc. If you’re a country with a lot of low-cost labor, this is a pretty good trade-off.
In addition to the current largest users of concrete, one trend to keep an eye on long-term is India’s concrete use. If India ever proceeds on a path of mass urbanization similar to China (as some folks speculate it will), we could see a massive uptick in global concrete output — India’s urbanization rate of 34% is around where China was in the late 1990s. A shift in India toward a per capita cement consumption more consistent with the rest of Southeast Asia (say around 600 kg/capita) would increase worldwide cement consumption by about 13%, and it does seem as if India’s cement use is trending upward.
By contrast, one thing clear from this data is that the U.S. actually uses an unusually low amount of concrete. Per capita, it uses as little as any other Western country, and far, far less than some — like, surprisingly, Belgium.
So we’ve seen where it gets used in the world. Can we go deeper and look at specifically what concrete is being used for?
This will vary significantly depending on the region and the local construction tradition. In the U.S., we have roughly the following breakdown (via the Portland Cement Association):
Overall, roughly half of our concrete gets used in buildings — about 26% goes into residential buildings, 2% in public buildings, and 16% into commercial buildings. The other half gets used for infrastructure — streets and highways, water conveyance and treatment tanks, etc. Because most construction in the U.S. is just one- or two-story buildings (mostly wood for residential buildings and steel for commercial ones), concrete in buildings is probably mostly going into foundations, slabs on grade, and concrete over metal deck, though there’s probably a substantial amount going into concrete masonry units as well.
But the U.S. has a somewhat unusual construction tradition, where the vast majority of our residential construction, both single-family homes and multifamily apartments, is built from light-framed wood. In other places, it's much more common to use concrete. For instance, the U.K. uses closer to 80% of its concrete for buildings, with most of that going toward the superstructure, the concrete frame that holds the building up. China, which has urbanized on the back of huge numbers of concrete residential high rises, probably devotes an even larger share of its concrete to residential construction.
Understanding how much concrete the world uses, and where it’s being used, is important if you want to use less of it.
The scale of the industry is particularly important to keep in mind. For instance, you often see enthusiasm for the idea of replacing concrete buildings with mass timber ones. But assuming you could substitute all the world’s concrete for an equal volume of wood [9], you’d need to more than triple the total annual volume of global wood harvested [10], which puts a somewhat different spin on the issue.
Most other materials would have emissions as bad or worse than concrete if they were used on the same scale.
Consider, for instance, railway ties. In the U.S., these are still largely made out of wood, but in many places they have been replaced with concrete ties. And some places are considering changing from concrete ties to plastic composite rail ties instead. It’s hard to know the exact embodied emissions without a lot of specific details about the materials and supply chains used, but can we ballpark how much a plastic tie uses compared to a concrete one?
Per the Inventory of Carbon and Energy database, concrete varies between 150 and 400 kg of embodied CO2 per cubic meter, depending on the properties of the mix, with an “average” value of about 250. Plastics mostly have embodied emissions of about 3-4 kg of CO2 per kg of plastic, or about 3,500 kg per cubic meter (assuming a density of about 1,000 kg per cubic meter). So per unit volume, plastic has somewhere around 10 times the embodied emissions of concrete.
We can also do a more direct comparison. Consider a beam spanning around 20 feet and supporting a vertical load of 21,000 pounds per linear foot. The lightest U.S. standard steel section that will span this distance is a W16x26, which weighs about 236 kg and will have embodied carbon emissions of around 354 kg.
A concrete beam of the same depth, supporting the same load and spanning the same distance, will be 10.5 inches wide by 16 inches deep, with three #10 steel bars running along the bottom. This beam will have about 190 kg of embodied emissions from the concrete, and about another 230 kg of embodied emissions from the steel rebar. This is about 20% more than the steel beam, but in the same ballpark — and over half the “concrete” emissions are actually due to the embedded reinforcing steel.
This is arguably a nonrepresentative example (most concrete, such as in columns or slabs, will have a much lower ratio of steel), but the basic logic holds: Concrete is unusual in its total volume of use, not how emissions-heavy it is as a material. Most material substitutes that aren’t wood, recycled materials, or industrial byproducts that can be had for “free” won’t necessarily be much better when used at the same scale. In some ways, it’s surprising that the carbon emissions from concrete are as low as they are.
Of course, this calculus is likely to change over time — as electricity sources change over to lower carbon ones, you’re likely to see the embodied emissions of materials drop along with it. And since cement releases CO2 as part of the chemical process of producing it, concrete will look increasingly worse compared to other materials over time.
One potential option is to find ways of changing the cement production process to be less carbon-intensive. The easiest option is to just replace manufactured Portland Cement with some other cementitious material. Industrial byproducts such as blast furnace slag, silica fume, and fly ash, often have cementitious properties and don’t have a “carbon penalty” (since they’d be produced regardless.) Materials like these can potentially eliminate large volumes of cement in a concrete mix, and they’re a key part of current low-carbon concrete strategies — even “normal” concrete mixes tend to utilize these to some degree. But the total volume of these materials is limited by the extent of various industrial processes. And for things like fly ash (which is a byproduct from coal plants) and slag (which is a byproduct from CO2-emitting blast furnaces), we can expect production to decline over time.
Another option is to take advantage of the fact that concrete will naturally absorb CO2 over time, a process known as carbonation. Even normal concrete will absorb roughly 30% of the CO2 emitted during the production process over the course of its life. Companies like Carbicrete, Carboncure, Carbonbuilt, and Solida all offer methods of concrete production that allow the concrete to absorb CO₂ during the production process, substantially reducing embodied emissions. Interestingly, these producers mostly claim that their concrete is actually cheaper than conventional concretes, which would obviously be a massive tailwind for the technology’s adoption.
It’s not obvious what the best path forward is for addressing concrete carbon emissions (like with most things, I suspect it’ll end up being a mix of different solutions), but understanding the parameters of the problem is necessary for solving it.
Note: A version of this article originally appeared in the author’s newsletter, Construction Physics, and has been repurposed for Heatmap.
[0] - This figure varies depending on the source. Chatham House provides a frequently cited estimate of 8%. We can also ballpark it — roughly 0.93 pounds of CO₂ gets emitted for each pound of cement produced, around 4.25 billion tons of cement are produced annually, which gets ~3.95 billion tons of CO₂, and total annual CO₂ emissions are in the neighborhood of 46 billion tons, getting us a bit less than 9%.
[1] - Per Circular Ecology, ~70-90% of emissions are from the cement production process, depending on the type of concrete and what the rest of the supply chain looks like.
[2] - This seems to vary depending on where the cement is being made — in Myanmar, for instance, it’s around 46%.
[3] - Another number where the sources often don’t agree with each other, see here, here, and here for estimates on annual cement production.
[4] - Concrete is roughly 10-15% cement by weight, depending on the strength of the mix, what other cementitious materials are being used, etc. An average value of 12.5% yields 34 billion tons, which we’ll knock down to account for other uses of cement (masonry mortar, grout, gypsum overlay, etc.) This roughly tracks with estimates from PCA (“4 tons of concrete produced each year for every person on Earth”), and from the now-defunct Cement Sustainability Initiative, which estimated 25 billion tons of concrete against 3.125 billion tons of cement in 2015.
[5] - See here, here, and here for an estimate of total civilization mass flow. This doesn’t (I believe) include waste byproducts, which can be substantial — for instance, it doesn’t include the ~46 billion tons of CO₂ emitted each year, or the 16 billion tons of mine tailings, or the 140 billion tons of agriculture byproducts (though this last number is difficult to verify and seems high).
[6] - We see something similar with cement as we do with other bulky, low-value materials, in that it's made in lots of distributed manufacturing facilities relatively close to where it’s used. See here for a map of cement plants in the U.S. around 2001, for instance.
[7] - For China’s total floor space, see here (most sources seem to agree with these numbers). For U.S. floor space, see my Every Building In America article. For per-capita living space in Europe, see here.
[8] - The often high rates of cement use by middle-income countries have led some folks to develop a U-shaped cement consumption theory of industrial development — that countries start out using a small amount of cement, use more as they get richer and build up their physical infrastructure, and then eventually transition to using lower volumes of cement again. The Globbulk paper spends considerable time debunking this.
[9] - It’s not actually obvious to me what the substitution ratio would be. In strength-governed cases, you’d need proportionally more timber than concrete, but in other cases (such as replacing concrete walls with light-framed stud walls), you’d probably use less. Obviously, you can’t substitute all concrete for wood, but you can probably switch out more than you think — there’s no reason you couldn’t use wood foundations instead of concrete ones in many cases, for instance.
[10] - 30 billion tons of concrete is roughly 12.5 billion cubic meters, and total annual wood products produced is currently around 5.5 billion cubic meters.
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There are lots of reasons why that might seem like a good idea, but I urge you to learn from my mistakes.
All I wanted was to drive an electric car to the solar eclipse. But after the third consecutive charging port RFID reader wouldn’t accept my credit card and finding that the employees inside the attached Spanish hotel restaurant mostly didn’t speak English, I began to feel as though, just maybe, this hadn’t been my best idea.
Opting for an EV as a rental car can be an attractive proposition. For a longtime electric driver like me, it’s the opportunity to avoid car emissions even when on holiday, and to try out the experience in another country. For others, it could be a way to save money while on vacation in countries with even more expensive gasoline than America’s, or perhaps to try out electric driving before taking the plunge on buying an EV back home.
My advice, though? Don’t — at least not yet. The reason is that road-tripping on vacation is not only different from the driving you do back home, it’s also the worst kind for using an EV, especially for a newbie. The experience might lead you to believe, incorrectly, that the EV experience is just like this.
I admit, I had high hopes. Europe as a whole is far ahead of the United States in EV adoption, and its denser built environment means fewer long, open expanses between the kinds of cities that would have charging stations. Spain isn’t nearly as far along with EVs as the Scandinavian or the low countries, where electric cars are already a majority of cars on the road, or nearly there. But it is ahead of the U.S. So I figured driving around the country to see the total solar eclipse in a Peugeot E-5008 electric SUV would be a manageable task.
The first problem is time. Here in California, I’ve come to terms with the fact that driving long distances in an EV adds minutes. There’s simply no way to replicate the five-minute pump-and-go gas station stop, but when it comes to dealing with the slog of freeway travel from L.A. to the Bay Area, for example, I’ve come to enjoy taking a longer charging stop to breathe as opposed to making the best possible time on a car trip. On vacation, though, there’s no time to lose.
And it’s not just charging itself that takes time. Unless you rent a Tesla and enjoy the seamless experience of its Superchargers, you’re stuck with the same annoyances that have vexed so many EV early adopters in the U.S.: busted chargers, hit-or-miss credit card readers, and juggling a variety of phone apps to interact with all the various brands of charging stations one might encounter. It’s also, frankly, just mentally taxing to think about all this in a new country and a new car, the very opposite of what most people seek on holiday.
Driving abroad intensifies these grievances. In just five days of driving around Spain, I racked up five new phone apps dedicated to charging the car on different networks. (Electromaps! Movilidad! PowerGo! EnelEnergy! Zunder!). Sometimes this was out of desperation: I parked, plugged, and scanned multiple credit cards that the machine would not accept, finding pay-by-phone to be the only way to activate the machine. Of course, signing up for a new app is a 10-minute process that involves typing in endless fields of personal information just to add a few kilowatt-hours to one’s car battery. Not great when you’re already running behind, and doubly problematic if you had no or little cell service abroad and couldn’t download the necessary app at that moment. (Death to walled-off apps.)
Those chargers that did work typically ran far below their stated capacity, in the range of 70 kilowatts to 90 kilowatts of charging speed as opposed to the 180 kilowatts or 350 kilowatts they were rated to deliver. And when plugs are scarce, you have to take what you can get in terms of speed and amenities. I was overjoyed to find one that worked without much hassle in Basque Country — even though I had to ask one of the gas station employees to move her Volkswagen Passat that was ICEing a charger, and encountered an industrial stench from nearby petroleum production so strong I nearly vomited when I got out of the car.
The EV culture can be different, too. I’d hoped to charge at the plugs located in the parking garage of my hotel in Bilbao, Spain, but arrived home too late after eclipse traveling and found the lot full and locked. The nearby underground structure had plenty of charging spaces, but those were bring-your-own-cable chargers — something common in Europe that’s only now coming to the United States.
Despite the difficulties, the trip went off. We saw the spiritual experience of the eclipse through the cloudless skies of Burgos; we traveled around northern Spain without once having to buy gasoline at European prices. And while an inconvenient experience like this might be enough to dissuade someone from ever taking a chance on EVs again, it shouldn’t.
There’s a dichotomy in the electric car experience I’ve talked about ad nauseum. As detractors say, taking long road trips can be kind of annoying, and those annoyances run deeper in unfamiliar territory. But most of us don’t drive like we’re on vacation most of the time. We do our driving close to home, where electric cars are a better and more convenient experience if you can do much of your charging at home or work. Public charging still takes time. But in your own city and state, you already know the nearby ones you like and have all the necessary apps downloaded and filled out.
A more seamless time is coming, when charging stations are abundant everywhere and a simple, idiot-proof interface for plugging in is the standard. Until then, you’ll probably have a more relaxing vacation burning fossil fuels. Just don’t let that stop you from buying an EV.
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Moke sideswiped Hawaii yesterday just weeks after a weakened Hurricane Lala became the first major storm to hit the Big Island in decades • On the western fringe of the United States’ Pacific borders, Typhoon Saudel struck Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands over the weekend, bringing heavy rain and flooding • Temperatures in Khorramshahr, on Iran’s border with Iraq, are topping 118 degrees Fahrenheit, rendering the southwestern port city the hottest place on Earth.
With water levels in reservoirs across the American West at record lows, the Trump administration has directed Arizona, California, and Nevada to cut back on how much water they use from the Colorado River over the next two years. On Friday, the Department of the Interior imposed the reductions via a series of documents detailing a two-year and a 10-year plan to salvage the supplies from the drought-stricken river fed by snowmelt from Colorado’s stretch of the Rocky Mountains. As climate change has shifted snow patterns, levels on the river have dropped. Yet the seven states that depend on the water — the aforementioned three in the Lower Basin, and Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming in the Upper Basin — could not come to agreement among themselves on how to divvy up the dwindling supply. Instead, the Interior Department came up with a proposal that forced the Lower Basin states to pare back first. As you may recall, Arizona’s Democratic governor called the cuts “draconian” when the administration released its proposal in early August. The plan, which imposes short-term cuts while leaving a larger split for later, sets the stage for what E&E News predicted would be “a behemoth legal fight.”
When the Department of Energy announced a review last year of droves of grants the Biden administration had given for clean industrial projects, the nation’s leading green steel project appeared on the chopping block. Cleveland-Cliffs, the steel giant based in Vice President JD Vance’s hometown in Ohio, said it was renegotiating the $500 million grant that was supposed to fund construction of a modern, integrated mill that could increase U.S. steel production and allow the country to compete with China in selling lower-carbon material to Europe. More than a year later, the deal has finally been renegotiated. As expected, the money will now go instead toward upgrading a coal-fired blast furnace at the Middletown Works plant, Canary Media reported on Friday. Never mind the fact that Congress promulgated the money specifically for lower-carbon steel, making the shift “possibly illegal,” as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo reported last year.
Congestion costs on PJM Interconnection skyrocketed 43% to $6 billion during the first half of this year, up from $2.1 billion during the same period of 2025. That’s according to the grid’s independent watchdog, which last week warned that bottlenecks on high-voltage transmission lines during high-stress events such as storms or heat waves were now what Reuters put bluntly as “the single biggest driver of the increase in soaring wholesale electricity costs.” Across the U.S., July’s electricity bills were, in the frank words of Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin, “higher than ever.”
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Last week, the uranium miner Ur-Energy sent the first shipment from its mine in Wyoming, World Nuclear News reported Friday. That same day, the American subsidiary of the European uranium giant Urenco broke ground on its latest facility in the U.S., NucNet reported. Downstream, meanwhile, Standard Nuclear — a fuel manufacturer specializing in extra-expensive but extra-safe ceramic-coated fuel pellets called TRISO, which I have written about previously— just cut another deal with a major vendor.
I have a confession. Nearly a decade ago, I sat at my sister’s kitchen counter in Massachusetts after she gave birth to my niece, trying to write about the latest technology to come out from Tesla. Not yet burdened by its billionaire chief executive’s political baggage, the company was largely seen at the time as subverting preconceptions about the popularity of electric vehicles. Tesla’s erstwhile absorption of Musk’s former solar manufacturer, Solar City, only cemented the company’s status as an industry leader in producing and deploying panels domestically. The conventional wisdom, at least among some industry analysts at the time, was that any bet against Tesla was an ill-advised gamble against the lucky Mr. Musk. So, I wrote about it as a breakthrough. But the solar-generating roof tiles the company unveiled that fall when I was in New England turned out to be little more than a passing fantasy. Now Electrek has reported that the company plans to discontinue the product.

Say what you will about Spain’s solar records or America’s gas surge, nothing quite matches the enormous surge of power that is a new hydroelectric station. This week, Tanzania christened its largest-ever hydroelectric station, the Julius Nyerere Hydropower Dam, named for the country’s revolutionary first prime minister after independence. Mwananchi, the country’s largest newspaper, said the plant’s launch “opened a new chapter in Tanzania’s energy sector.”
The only other U.S. state to have a chief heat officer? Arizona.
The past three months will go down in the books as the hottest meteorological summer on record in Boston — but that is not a record that’s likely to stand long. At 3.5 degrees Fahrenheit of warming since 1970, Massachusetts has outpaced the national average by half a degree; by 2050, researchers expect the state will see more than two-dozen 90-plus-degree days every year. According to a 2023 climate report, that could result in as many as 400 excess deaths in the Commonwealth annually.
Now it’s someone’s job to do something about it. In mid-August, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey announced the appointment of the state’s first heat resilience officer, making the Commonwealth only the second state in the country to have such a position — after the much more obvious choice, Arizona. (Healey is up for reelection this year, but the race is largely expected to be uncompetitive.) The inaugural role has gone to Katie Schlick, who most recently headed the resilience portfolio at the U.S. Climate Alliance and previously served as a special assistant to Ali Zaidi, the White House’s national climate advisor under Joe Biden.
I caught up with Schlick at the end of her first full week on the job to learn more about what leading heat resilience in a state like Massachusetts will look like in practice. Our conversation has been lightly edited and condensed.
Why does Massachusetts need a heat resilience officer?
This role was established because Governor Healy has seen the science and the public health data on heat risk in the state and worldwide. But she’s also heard from, felt, and understands the lived experiences of communities all across Massachusetts who are really dangerously impacted by extreme heat — and increasingly so.
We know that extreme heat is the No. 1 killer across all other extreme weather events, and that fact holds true not just for the United States but also globally. July was the hottest month ever recorded, and the last three years are the hottest ever recorded in human history. And heat waves in cities are about 46 days longer than they were in the 1960s.
Those are the trends that we’re seeing in the science. But we’ve also seen tons of impacts in the state. Massachusetts itself has warmed about 3.5 degrees Fahrenheit over the last century, and then we’re expecting those numbers to double, if not triple, in the coming decades. We saw 1,500 heat-related emergency room visits in 2025 alone, and we’re seeing higher numbers of visits on unhealthy heat days. We have heat island communities and heat equity communities in the state that are literally degrees hotter because of decades of complicated history. One in five public schools in the Commonwealth don’t have air conditioning, and that only not only impacts learning, but also, when school is closed because it’s too hot to keep the kids and the the staff in the building, then that means parents and guardians have to leave their jobs and figure out child care, which impacts the economy. There are projections that about 20% of the workforce in Massachusetts is exposed in some way to extreme heat, and that impacts work hours, productivity and the economy. And, of course, there are tons of impacts to our natural environment, crop losses in the agriculture sector.
I’ve been calling these the geographies of heat resilience, and I think what we’ve seen from the governor is an understanding that this means we need to put the full weight of the state government behind solutions. It will be a whole government, whole of community process, assessing what the work is that’s already been done to date — and we’ve seen a lot of great stuff coming out of the Department of Public Health, with their different extreme heat initiatives and a lot of good data tracking. Even just in these past two weeks or so, as I’m getting up to speed, there’s a lot of real energy and momentum and excitement from partners all across the state, academia, community organizations, local governments, and regional organizations, who have also seen this problem and are really eager to be part of the solution.
Speaking of academia, I spoke earlier this week to Professor John Rogan at Clark University about the role forests and trees play in cooling communities, particularly in western Massachusetts. Are nature-based solutions part of what you’re considering?
I’m glad you brought him up, because last week we had an event at Clark University, which is the home to the HERO program. It’s been operating for several decades now in Worcester, and I spoke to some of the students last week who were out there all summer researching different types of trees — both if they are resilient themselves to the impacts of hotter temperatures, but also the shade cover, and is it impacting and increasing or decreasing the temperature of different neighborhoods?
What they found is, shade from trees can cool down certain areas and neighborhoods by several degrees, as can white roofs and greener spaces. And not only does it cool an area down, which means that you’re hopefully able to spend less on your electricity bill, but having greener spaces creates safer communities and contributes to public safety. It is also a great space for families to go out and hang out. Nature-based solutions are something I’m excited to dig into, and something that I know our climate chief is really passionate about as well.
One of the big things about heat is that it’s a hyperlocal issue. How are you thinking about that in Massachusetts, where you have large cities and quieter suburbs and remote towns spread across the state?
That’s why this role is positioned at the state level. We’ve seen across the country that there are different regional approaches to heat, and I think that’s important as well — we’ll be leaning into working with our regional and local partners and community organizations — but it’s also important to have someone at the state level who can coordinate all of this, and make sure that there is attention for all the different pieces. Even just last week, during our [Clark University event], we were talking about the rural areas and different research that is showing how even if they might be a little bit cooler right now, because they don’t have the urban effect, eventually those temperature levels are going level out, so they’ll see hotter temperatures as well. So we need to take a whole of state approach. We have an understanding of the social issues and impacts around heat, like school closures, job loss, and impacts to productivity, as well as the health and safety needs and trends, and we’re paying attention to all of the above.
How does the region’s older housing stock affect your approach to heat resilience in the state?
One of the big challenges that we see in the Northeast for living with climate change is that our built environment was generally constructed to keep people warm during intense winters. Now we are having to do a lot of thinking on the loan side about making sure our housing stock and our buildings are resilient to all sorts of climate impacts, whether that be extreme winds or hail or other types of storms and flooding, but also how it can keep people cool during instances of extreme heat.
One of the things we’ll be thinking through is different solutions to decarbonizing our building stock. We want to make sure that people have access to air conditioning, but we also want to make sure they can afford to pay their electricity bill. But we’ve seen rates skyrocket, and that’s one of the hottest topics these days. We want to make sure that we have access to cooling, not just for homeowners, but also for tenants. If someone can’t get access to that in the near term, do we have community cooling centers? Do they have transit to them? And are they aware of where they are? And do we have good community leaders that can help us maintain those?
Again, going back to schools, we’ve seen under this federal administration a huge slash of the funding that went out under the Biden administration for greener schools. We want to make sure that schools are decarbonizing, but also that they are safe and healthy for students to be in and learn in, even on the hottest and smokiest of days. And there are a lot of cool solutions for decarbonizing buildings in general, whether it be with weatherization, insulation, other types of retrofits, cool roofs, or heat pumps — which is something the governor has championed, and I think a good example of how we can think through incentives for different technologies that are more cost effective and easily implementable.
What most excites you about this job, at the end of your first full week? What projects are you most excited to tackle?
For a long time, I’ve loved working on climate resilience issues. I’m such a climate policy person in general, both on the mitigation and the resilience side. But I think resilience in particular reminds us that it’s not just doom and gloom that we’re experiencing, but also hope and possibilities. It’s about leaning into partnership and innovation.
We’ll be establishing a council that will help us get our arms around the breadth of this challenge. We’ll be putting together a plan that also outlines our levers for change across state and local government, and our opportunities for action. But when I think about the different metrics of success for this role at a high level over the next couple of years, we’re hoping to make cooling solutions more affordable for the people of Massachusetts. We want access to clean and cool air, even on the hottest and smokiest days. Wherever you are, we want to see lower school cancellations from heat, and lower emergency room visits, and better health outcomes. We want people to feel more educated on the risks from heat and trained up on how they can respond to them, no matter what their field is. We want to see more heat pumps deployed, and safer workplaces, whether you work inside or outside. We want local governments to feel ready and prepared in the face of something like extreme heat.
All of those are opportunities for action, and to pull in people from across the state to be a part of the solution.