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The world’s biggest, most functional city might also be the most pedestrian-friendly. That’s not a coincidence.
For cities that want to reduce the number of cars, bike lanes are a good place to start. They are cheap, usually city-level authorities can introduce them, and they do not require you to raise taxes on people who own cars. What if you want to do something more radical though? What would a city that genuinely wanted to get the car out of its citizens’ lives in a much bigger way do? A city that wanted to make it possible for most people to live decent lives and be able to get around without needing a car, even without needing to get on a bicycle?
There is only one city on Earth I have ever visited that has truly managed this. But it happens to be the biggest city on the planet: Tokyo, the capital of Japan.
In popular imagination, at least in the West, Tokyo is both incredibly futuristic, and also rather foreign and confusing. Before I first visited, in 2017, I imagined it to be an incredibly hectic place, a noisy, bustling megacity. I was on holiday and trying to escape Nairobi, the rather sprawling, low-height, and green city I was living in at the time, and I picked Tokyo largely because I wanted to get as far away from Africa as I could. I needed a break from the traffic jams, the power cuts, the constant negotiation to achieve anything, and the heat. I was looking for an escape somewhere as different as I could think of, and I wanted to ride trains around and look at high-tech skyscrapers and not worry about getting splattered by mud walking in the street. I was expecting to feel bowled over by the height of the buildings, the sheer crush of people, and the noise.
Yet when I emerged from the train station in Shibuya, blinking jetlagged in the morning light after a night flight from Amsterdam, what actually caught me off guard was not the bustle but rather how quiet the city is. When you see cliched images of Tokyo, what invariably is shown are the enormous crowds of pedestrians crossing the roads, or Mount Fuji in the background of the futuristic skyline. I expected something like Los Angeles in Blade Runner, I suppose — futuristic and overwhelming. From photos, Tokyo can look almost unplanned, with neon signs everywhere and a huge variety of forms of architecture. You expect it to feel messy. What I experienced, however, was a city that felt almost like being in a futuristic village. It is utterly calm, in a way that is actually rather strange.
And it took me a little while to realize why. There is simply no traffic noise. No hooting, no engine noise, not even much of the noise of cars accelerating on tarmac. Because there are so few of them. Most of the time you can walk in the middle of the street, so rare is the traffic. There are not even cars parked at the side of the road. That is not true of all of Tokyo, of course. The expressways are often packed. Occasionally, I was told, particularly when it snows, or during holidays when large numbers of people try to drive out to the countryside, jams form that can trap drivers for whole days. But on most residential streets, traffic is almost nonexistent. Even the relatively few cars that you do see are invariably tiny, quiet vehicles.
Among rich cities, Tokyo has the lowest car use in the world. According to Deloitte, a management consultancy, just 12 percent of journeys are completed by private car. It might surprise you to hear that cycling is actually more popular than driving in Tokyo — it accounts for 17 percent of journeys, though the Japanese do not make as much of a big deal out of it as the Dutch do. But walking and public transport dwarf both sorts of vehicles. Tokyo has the most-used public transport system in the world, with 30 million people commuting by train each day. This may sound rather unpleasant. You have probably seen footage of the most crowded routes at rush hour, when staff literally push people onto the carriages to make space, or read about young women being groped in the crush. It happens, but it is not typical. Most of the trains I rode were busy but comfortable, and I was able to get a seat.
And what makes Tokyo remarkable is that the city was almost entirely built after the original city was mostly flattened by American bombers in the Second World War. Elsewhere in the world, cities built after the war are almost invariably car-dependent. Think of Houston, Texas, which has grown from 300,000 people in the 1950s to 10 times that now. Or England’s tiny version, Milton Keynes, which is the fastest-growing city in the country. Or almost any developing world city. Since the advent of the automobile, architects and urban planners worldwide have found it almost impossible to resist building cities around roads and an assumption that most people will drive. Tokyo somehow managed not to. It rebuilt in a much more human-centric way.
It may come as a surprise that Japan is home to the world’s biggest relatively car-free city. After all, Japan is the country that gave the world Mitsubishi, Toyota, and Nissan, and exports vehicles all over the world. And in fairness, a lot of Japanese people do own cars. Overall car ownership in Japan is about 590 vehicles per 1,000 people, which is less than America’s rate of about 800 per 1,000, but comparable to a lot of European countries. On average, there are 1.06 cars per household. But Tokyo is a big exception. In Tokyo, there are only 0.32 cars per household. Most Japanese car owners live in smaller towns and cities than the capital. The highest rate of car ownership, for example, is in Fukui Prefecture, on the western coast of Honshu, one of Japan’s least densely populated areas.
And car ownership in Japan is falling, unlike almost everywhere else on Earth. Part of the reason is just that the country is getting older and the population is falling. But it is also that more and more people live in Tokyo. Annually, Japan is losing about 0.3 percent of its population, or about half a million people a year. Greater Tokyo, however, with its population of 37 million, is shrinking by less than that, or about 0.1 percent a year. And the prefecture of Tokyo proper, with a population of 14 million, is still growing. The reason is that Tokyo generates the best jobs in Japan, and it is also an increasingly pleasant place to live. You may think of Tokyoites as being crammed into tiny apartments, but in fact, the average home in Tokyo has 65.9 square meters of livable floor space (709 square feet). That is still very small—indeed, it is less than the size of the average home in London, where the figure is 80 square meters. But the typical household in London has 2.7 people living in it. In Tokyo, it is 1.95. So per capita, people in Tokyo actually have more space than Londoners.
Overall in fact, people in Tokyo have one of the highest qualities of life in the world. A 2015 survey by Monocle magazine came to the conclusion that Tokyo is the best city on Earth in which to live, “due to its defining paradox of heart-stopping size and concurrent feeling of peace and quiet.” In 2021 The Economist ranked it fourth, after Wellington and Auckland in New Zealand, and another Japanese city, Osaka. Life expectancy overall is 84 years old, one of the highest levels of any city on the planet. A good part of this has to do with the lack of cars. Air pollution is considerably lower than in any other city of equivalent size anywhere in the world. Typical commutes are, admittedly, often fairly long, at 40 minutes each way. But they are not in awful smoggy car traffic.
This article was excerpted from Daniel Knowles' book "Carmageddon: How Cars Make Life Worse and What to Do About It"Abrams Press ©2023
So how has Tokyo managed it? Andre Sorensen, a professor of urban planning at the University of Toronto, who published a history of urban planning in Japan, told me that Japan’s history has a lot to do with it. Japan’s urbanization happened a little more like some poorer countries — quickly. At the start of the 20th century, just 15 percent of Japanese people lived in cities. Now 91 percent do, one of the highest rates of urbanization in the entire world. That rapid growth meant that Tokyo’s postwar growth was relatively chaotic. Buildings sprawled out into rice paddies, with sewage connections and power often only coming later. Electricity is still often delivered by overhead wires, not underground cables. And yet somehow this haphazard system manages to produce a relatively coherent city, and one that is much easier to get around on foot or by public transport than by car.
Part of the reason, Sorensen explained to me, is just historical chance. Japanese street layouts traditionally were narrow, much like medieval alleys in Europe. Land ownership was often very fragmented, meaning that house builders had to learn to use small plots in a way that almost never happened in Europe or America. And unlike the governments there, the government in postwar Japan was much more concerned with boosting economic growth by creating power plants and industrial yards than it was with creating huge new boulevards through neighborhoods. So the layouts never changed. According to Sorensen’s research, 35 percent of Japanese streets are not actually wide enough for a car to travel down them. More remarkably still, 86 percent are not wide enough for a car to be able to stop without blocking the traffic behind it.
Yet the much bigger reason for Tokyo’s high quality of life is that Japan does not subsidize car ownership in the way other countries do. In fact, owning a car in Tokyo is rather difficult. For one thing, cars are far more enthusiastically inspected than in America or most of Europe. Cars must be checked by officials every two years to ensure that they are still compliant, and have not been modified. That is true in Britain too, but the cost is higher than what a Ministry of Transport test costs. Even a well-maintained car can cost 100,000 yen to inspect (or around $850). On cars that are older than 10 years, the fees escalate dramatically, which helps to explain why so many Japanese sell their cars relatively quickly, and so many of them end up in East Africa or Southeast Asia. On top of that there is an annual automobile tax of up to 50,000 yen, as well as a 5 percent tax on the purchase. And then gasoline is taxed too, meaning it costs around 160 yen per liter, or about $6 a gallon, less than in much of Europe, but more than Americans accept.
And even if you are willing to pay all of the taxes, you cannot simply go and buy a car in the way that you might in most countries. To be allowed to purchase a car, you have to be able to prove that you have somewhere to park it. This approval is issued by the local police, and is known as a shako shomeisho, or “garage certificate.” Without one, you cannot buy a car. This helps to explain why the Japanese buy so many tiny cars, like the so-called Kei cars. It means they can have smaller garages. Even if the law didn’t exist though, owning a car in Japan without having a dedicated parking space for it would be a nightmare. Under a nationwide law passed in 1957, overnight street parking of any sort is completely illegal. So if you were to somehow buy a car with no place to store it, you could not simply park it on the street, because it would get towed the next morning, and you would get fined 200,000 yen (around $1,700). In fact, most street parking of any sort is illegal. There are a few exceptions, but more than 95 percent of Japanese streets have no street parking at all, even during the day.
This, rather than any beautiful architecture, explains why Tokyo’s streets feel so pleasant to walk down, or indeed to look at. There are no cars filling them up. It also means that land is actually valued properly. If you want to own a car, it means that you also have to own (or at least rent) the requisite land to keep it. In rural areas or smaller towns, this is not a huge deal, because land is relatively cheap, and so a permit might only cost 8,000 to 9,000 yen, or about $75 a month. But in Tokyo, the cost will be at least four times that. Garages in American cities can cost that much too, but in Japan there is no cheap street parking option, as in much of New York or Chicago. Most apartment buildings are constructed without any parking at all, because the developers can use the space more efficiently for housing. Only around 42 percent of condominium buildings have parking spaces for residents. Similarly, even if you own a parking space, it is almost never free to park anywhere you might take your car. Parking in Tokyo typically costs 1,000 yen an hour, or around $8.50.
This is a big disincentive to driving. Sorensen told me that when he lived in Tokyo, some wealthy friends of his owned a top-end BMW, which they replaced every few years, because they were car nuts. But because they did not have anywhere to park it near their home, if they wanted to use it, they had to take public transport (or a taxi) to get to it at its garage. As a result, they simply did not use their car very much. In their day-to- day life, they used the trains, the same as everybody else, or took taxis, because that was cheaper than picking up the car. This sort of thing probably helps to explain why the Japanese, despite relatively high levels of car ownership, do not actually drive very far. Car owners in Japan typically drive around 6,000 kilometers per year. That is about half what the average British car owner drives, and less than a third of what the average American does.
Parking rules are not, however, the limit of what keeps cars out of Tokyo. Arguably, an even bigger reason is how infrastructure has been funded in Japan. That is, by the market, rather than directly by taxes. In the 1950s and ’60s, much like Europe and the United States, Japan began building expressways. But unlike in Europe and America, it was starting from a considerably more difficult place. In 1957, Ralph J. Watkins, an American economist who had been invited to advise the Japanese government, reported that “the roads of Japan are incredibly bad. No other industrial nation has so completely neglected its highway system.” Just 23 percent of roads were paved, including just two-thirds of the only highway linking Osaka, Japan’s historical economic hub, to Tokyo.
But unlike America, the idea of making them free never seemed to cross politicians’ minds, probably because Japan in the postwar era was not the world’s richest country. Capital was not freely available. To build the roads, the national government formed corporations such as the Shuto Kōsoku-dōro Kabushiki-gaisha, or Metropolitan Expressway Company, which was formed in greater Tokyo in 1959. These corporations took out vast amounts of debt, which they had to repay, so that the Japanese taxpayer would not be burdened. That meant that tolls were imposed from the very beginning. The tolls had to cover not just the construction cost, but also maintenance and interest on the loans. Today, to drive on the Shuto Expressway costs from 300 to 1,320 yen, or $2.50 to $11 for a “standard-size” automobile. Overall, tolls in Japan are the most expensive in the world — around three times higher than the level charged on the private autoroutes in France, or on average, about 3,000 yen per 100 kilometers ($22 to drive 62 miles).
What that meant was that, from the beginning, roads did not have an unfair advantage in their competition with other forms of transport. And so in Japan, unlike in almost the entire rest of the rich world, the postwar era saw the construction of enormous amounts of rail infrastructure. Indeed, at a time when America and Britain were nationalizing and cutting their railways to cope with falling demand for train travel, in Japan, the national railway company was pouring investment into the system. The world’s first high-speed railway, the Tokaido Shinkansen, was opened in 1964 to coincide with the Tokyo Olympics, with a top speed of 210 kilometers per hour. That was almost double what trains elsewhere mostly managed. From 1964 to 1999, the number of passengers using the Shinkansen grew from 11 million annually to more than 300 million.
Sorensen told me about how in the 1950s and ’60s, the trains were a huge point of national pride for the Japanese government, a bit like car industries were elsewhere. “And justifiably! It was a fantastic invention. To say we can make electric rail go twice as fast. What an achievement.” Thanks to that, the railways ministry became a huge power center in government, rather than a neglected backwater as it often had become elsewhere. In rail, the Japanese “built up expertise in engineering, in bureaucratic resources and capacities, and political clout that just lasted,” he told me. “Whereas the road-building sector was weak.” Elsewhere, building roads became a self-reinforcing process, because as more was poured into constructing them, more people bought cars and demanded more roads. That did not happen in Japan. Instead, the growth in railway infrastructure led to growth in, well, more railway infrastructure.
If you visit Tokyo now, what you will find is that the most hectic, crowded places in the city are all around the train and subway stations. The reason is that Japan’s railway companies (the national firm was privatized in the 1980s) do not only provide railways. They are also big real estate investors. A bit like the firm that built the Metropolitan Railway in the 1930s in Britain, when Japan’s railway firms expanded service, they paid for it by building on the land around the stations. In practice, what that means is that they built lots of apartments, department stores, and supermarkets near (and directly above) railway stations, so that people can get straight off the train and get home quickly. That makes the trains more efficient, because people can get where they need to go without having to walk or travel to and from stations especially far. But it also means that the railways are incredibly profitable, because unlike in the West, they are able to profit from the improvement in land value that they create.
What this adds up to is that Tokyo is one of very few cities on Earth where travel by car is not actively subsidized, and funnily neither is public transport, and yet both work well, when appropriate. However, Tokyo is not completely alone. Several big cities across Asia have managed to avoid the catastrophe (cartastrophe?) that befell much of the western world. Hong Kong manages it nearly as well as Tokyo; there are just 76 cars per 1,000 people in the city state. So too does Singapore, with around 120 per 1,000 people. What those cities have in common, which makes them rather different from Japan, is a shortage of land and a relentless, centralized leadership that recognized early on that cars were a waste of space.
Unfortunately, replicating the Asian model in countries in Europe, America, or Australia from scratch will not be easy. We are starting with so many cars on our roads to begin with, that imposing the sorts of curbs on car ownership that I listed above is almost certainly a political nonstarter. Just look at what happens when politicians in America or Britain try to take away even a modest amount of street parking, or increase the tax on gasoline. People are already invested in cars, sadly. And thanks to that, there is also a chicken-and-egg problem. Because people are invested in cars, they live in places where the sort of public transport that makes life possible for the majority of people in Tokyo is simply not realistic. As it is, constructing rail infrastructure like Japan’s is an extraordinarily difficult task. Look at the difficulties encountered in things like building Britain’s new high-speed train link, or California’s, for example.
And yet it is worth paying attention to Tokyo precisely because it shows that vast numbers of cars are not necessary to daily life. What Tokyo shows is that it is possible for enormous cities to work rather well without being overloaded by traffic congestion. Actually, Tokyo works better than big cities anywhere else. That is why it has managed to grow so large. The trend all over the world for decades now has been toward greater wealth concentrating in the biggest metropolises. The cost of living in somewhere like New York, London, or Paris used to be marginally higher than living in a more modest city. That is no longer the case. And it reflects the fact that the benefits of living in big cities are enormous. The jobs are better, but so too are the restaurants, the cultural activities, the dating opportunities, and almost anything else you can think of. People are willing to pay for it. The high cost of living is a price signal — that is, the fact that people are willing to pay it is an indicator of the value they put on it.
Especially in this post-pandemic era where many jobs can be done from anywhere, lots of New Yorkers could easily decamp to, say, a pretty village upstate, and save a fortune in rent, or cash in on their property values. Actually, hundreds of thousands do every year (well, not only to upstate). But they are replaced by newcomers for the simple reason that New York City is, if you set aside the cost, a pretty great place to live. And yet, if everyone who would like to live in a big city is to be able to, those cities need to be able to grow more. But if they continue to grow with the assumption that the car will be the default way of getting around for a significant proportion of residents, then they will be strangled by congestion long before they ever reach anything like Tokyo’s success. People often say that London or New York are too crowded, but they are wrong. They are only too crowded if you think that it is normal for people to need space not just for them but also for the two tons of metal that they use to get around.
The sheer anger of motorists might mean that banning overnight parking on residential streets proves difficult. But if we want to be bold, some of Tokyo’s other measures are more realistic. We could, for example, do a lot more to build more housing around public transport, and use the money generated to help contribute to the network. According to the Centre for Cities, a British think tank, there are 47,000 hectares of undeveloped land (mostly farmland) within a 10-minute walk of a railway station close to London or another big city. That is enough space to build two million homes, more than half of which would be within a 45-minute commute to or from London. The reason we do not develop the land at the moment is because it is mostly Metropolitan Green Belt, a zoning restriction created in the late 1940s by the Town and Country Planning Act intended to contain cities and stop them sprawling outward. But the problem with it as it works in Britain at the moment is that it does not stop sprawl — it just pushes it further away from cities, into places where there really is no hope of not using a car.
Developing the green belt too would not be popular. People have an affection for fields near their homes, and they do not necessarily want the trains they use to be even more crowded. But there are projects that show it is possible to overcome NIMBYism. In Los Angeles in 2016, voters approved the Transit Oriented Communities Incentive Program, which creates special zoning laws in areas half a mile from a major transit stop (typically, in L.A., a light rail station). This being Los Angeles, it is fairly modest. One of the rules is that the mandatory parking minimums applied are restricted to a maximum of 0.5 car parking spaces per bedroom, and total parking is not meant to exceed more than one space per apartment, which is still rather a lot of parking. But nonetheless, it does allow developers to increase the density of homes near public transport, and it has encouraged developers to build around 20,000 new homes near public transport that probably would not have been constructed otherwise. These are small but real improvements.
Ultimately, no city will be transformed into Tokyo overnight, nor should any be, at least unless a majority of the population decides that they would like it. I am trying to persuade them; for now, not everyone is as enamored with the Japanese capital as I am. But NIMBYism and other political problems can be gradually overturned, if the arguments are made in the right way, even in the most automotive cities.
This article was excerpted from Daniel Knowles’ book Carmageddon: How Cars Make Life Worse and What to Do About It, published by Abrams Press ©2023.
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On the cobalt conundrum, Madagascar’s mining mess, and Antarctica’s ‘Greenlandification’
Current conditions: Severe storms are sweeping through the central Great Plains states this weekend, whipping up winds of up to 75 miles per hour • Freezing temperatures are settling over Kazakhstan and Mongolia • A record heat wave in Australia is raising temperatures as high as 113 degrees Fahrenheit.
Nearly two dozen states signed onto two lawsuits Thursday to stop the Trump administration from ending the $7 billion grant program that funded solar panels in low-income communities. The first complaint, filed Wednesday, seeks monetary damages over the Environmental Protection Agency’s bid to eliminate the so-called Solar for All program. A second lawsuit, filed Thursday, seeks to reinstate the program. Arizona Attorney General Kris Mayes told Reuters the cancellation affected 900,000 low-income households nationwide, including some 11,000 in Arizona that the state expected to see a 20% spike in bills after losing access to the $156 million in funding from Solar for All. California would lose $250 million in funding. The litigation comes days after Harris County, which encompasses most of Houston, Texas, filed suit against the EPA over its own loss of $250 million due to the program’s termination. Earlier this month, a coalition of solar energy companies, labor unions, nonprofit groups, and homeowners also sued the EPA over the cancellation.
It remains to be seen whether other countries are willing to balk at the Trump administration’s push to gut key carbon-cutting policies. But at least in theory, later today, the drafting group for the International Maritime Organization, the United Nations agency overseeing global shipping, will vote on an emissions pricing mechanism meant to slash greenhouse gas output from an industry that still relies on some of the most heavily polluting fuels. The scheduled vote comes a day after President Donald Trump pressed the international body to reject the proposal, calling it “the Global Green New Scam Tax on Shipping” and vowing to ignore the rules.
The maritime shipping industry accounts for about 3% of global emissions. But the impact of shipping fuels is substantial. As Heatmap’s Robinson Meyer wrote in December, a study found that, when the IMO began enforcing rules to remove a toxic pollutant, sulfur dioxide from shipping fuels, the planet’s temperatures spiked. That’s because, in addition to inflaming the heart and lungs, triggering asthma attacks, and causing acid rain, sulfur dioxide can also reflect heat back into space, artificially cooling the Earth. When that fuel went away, the warming effects of all the carbon in the atmosphere became more apparent.
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A child worker at a cobalt mine in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Michel Lunanga/Getty Images
The Department of Defense canceled a tender to buy cobalt, in what the trade publication Mining.com called “a fresh sign of the challenges facing Western countries trying to bolster domestic supplies of the battery metal.” In mid-August, the Defense Logistics Agency first sought offers for up to 7,500 tons of the bluish metal used in batteries and alloys for jet engines over the next five years, in a contract worth as much as $500 million. It was, according to Bloomberg, the U.S. government’s first attempt to acquire the metal since 1990. When no deals came in by the original due date of August 29, the offer was extended to October 15. But a notice published on a government website Wednesday indicated that the offer had been pulled. The move marks an apparent setback for the Pentagon’s effort to stockpile critical minerals, as I reported in this newsletter earlier this week.
While the funding doesn’t produce raw cobalt from mining, as I reported for Heatmap last month, the DLA has backed an Ohio-based startup called Xerion that’s commercializing a novel approach to processing both that metal and gallium, another mineral over which China has tightened export controls recently. It’s not alone. As Heatmap’s Katie Brigham wrote last month, “everybody wants to invest in critical mineral startups.”
The British rare earths processor Pensana has canceled plans for a refinery in East Yorkshire, England, in favor of investing in an American project instead. The company spent the past seven years developing a $268 million rare earths mine in Angola. One of the largest of its kind in the world, the project is scheduled to begin delivering raw materials in 2027. To turn that ore into industrial-grade materials, Pensana had planned to build a processing facility at the Saltend Chemicals Plant near Hull, England, that would have turned the metals into powerful magnets. The project won about $6.7 million in support from the British government. But Pensana’s founder and chairman, Paul Atherley, told the BBC that was “nowhere near enough.” He compared the deal to the Trump administration’s direct investment of billions of dollars into MP Materials, the country’s only rare earths mine. Pensana instead announced plans to work with the U.S. refiner ReElement to develop a domestic American supply chain, and plans to list its shares on the Nasdaq. As I wrote in Tuesday morning’s newsletter, the world’s top metals trader warned this week that the West’s mineral weakness is a lack of refining capacity, not mining. “Mining is not critical,” Trafigura CEO Richard Holtum said in London on Monday, according to Mining Journal. “True supply chain security comes from processing investment, not just extraction.”
But even the increased supply of ore from overseas projects could be in jeopardy. I have a scoop this morning in Heatmap that highlights the geopolitical challenges U.S. mining projects face overseas. On Sunday, following weeks of youth-led protests over electricity and water outages, Madagascar’s military overthrew its government in a coup. Now the new self-declared leaders have pulled support for Denver-based mining developer Energy Fuels’ plans for a giant mine that would produce rare earths, uranium, and other metals. The so-called Toliara mine, worth an estimated $2 billion, had won approval from the previous government last winter. But a consultant on the ground in Madagascar’s capital of Antananarivo told me the new leaders had “announced the definitive cancellation” of what was previously described as the future “crown jewel” of an economy where 75% of people live on less than $3 per day and less than 40% of the population has access to electricity.
As recently as the 1990s, the Greenland Ice Sheet and the Arctic were melting at a measurable pace thanks to global warming, but Antarctica’s ice cap seemed securely frozen. But, as Inside Climate News reported Thursday, “not anymore.” New satellite data and field observations show the only unpopulated continent is thawing at an alarming rate, leading to what some scientists are now calling the “Greenlandification” of Antarctica, turning it into an environment that’s melting at a rate closer to the Arctic.
There’s little question as to what is causing the meltdown. More than 100 countries now experience at least 10 more “hot days” per year than a decade ago, when the Paris climate accord was first drafted, according to new data analysis from the research groups Climate Central and World Weather Attribution published Thursday in the Financial Times. In 10 countries, the warming over the past decade added roughly a month of additional “hot days.”
The good climate news, reported by Bloomberg: the Bay Area startup Rondo Energy has turned on the world’s largest industrial heat battery, a giant cubic structure that heats clay bricks with electricity from a 20-megawatt solar array to generate steam.
The bad climate news? That steam is used to force more oil out of the ground as part of Holmes Western Oil Corp.’s enhanced oil recovery system.
The mitigating factors to consider: The battery replaced a natural gas-fired boiler at the Kern County, California, facility. And proponents of enhanced oil recovery say the approach meets lasting demand for petroleum by extracting more fuel from existing wells rather than encouraging new drilling.
Denver-based Energy Fuels was poised to move forward on the $2 billion project before the country's leadership upheaval.
As the Trump administration looks abroad for critical minerals deals, the drama threatening a major American mining megaproject in Madagascar may offer a surprising cautionary tale of how growing global instability can thwart Washington’s plans to rewire metal supply chains away from China.
Just days after the African nation’s military toppled the government in a coup following weeks of protests, the country’s new self-declared leaders have canceled Denver-based Energy Fuels’ mine, Heatmap has learned.
The so-called Toliara mine was supposed to be the “crown jewel” of one of the world’s least developed economies, a megaproject designed to patch Madagascar into a new global supply chain meant to reroute trade in metals needed for everything from state-of-the-art weapons to electric vehicle batteries away from China.
Last December, Energy Fuels, the Denver-based rare earths and uranium miner, won approval from the Malagasy government to move forward on its Toliara Project, a critical minerals mine with a value analysts estimated at $2 billion. But on Thursday morning, the new president of Madagascar’s National Assembly “announced the definitive cancellation” of the project, Luke Freeman, a geopolitical consultant with 25 years of experience in Madagascar, told me by email.
Kim Casey, Energy Fuels’ head of investor relations, dismissed the legitimacy of the coup leaders’ decision in an emailed statement. The company is “watching the events in Madagascar closely, and like the rest of the world we are waiting to see how things unfold,” the statement said.
“At this time, governing bodies and areas of responsibility in Madagascar remain unclear,” she went on. “Any statements made by any individual politicians or others amid this crisis have no legal effect, nor should they be taken to represent official Madagascar government policy or the opinions of the majority of local communities.”
Still, Casey left open the possibility that the mine could be postponed. If the coup “results in any delays in our development plans for the Toliara Project,” she said, “Energy Fuels has multiple projects around the world which are advancing at the same time.” Investors seemed less confident. The company’s stock, which had soared by nearly 500% over the past six months, plunged 8% on Wednesday, and another 13% on Thursday afternoon.
Even if the project goes under, it’s unlikely to impact U.S. mineral supplies, Neha Mukherjee, a rare earths analyst the London-based battery-metals consultancy Benchmark Mineral Intelligence, told me. The mine did not have any public offtakers yet, but Energy Fuels announced plans last year to send uranium ore from the project to the White Mesa Mill in Utah for processing.
“Toliara remains at a very early stage and is still working towards a final investment decision, so immediate on-ground impacts are likely to be limited,” she told me in an email. But she warned that “investors and potential offtakers” may “take a more cautious approach until there’s greater clarity on the political environment.”
It is no accident that, despite its unique culture that blends influences from Africa and Asia, Madagascar is a place known to many Americans primarily as the setting of a series of fictional movies about cartoon animals that aren’t even native to the island nation off southeast Africa. More than 75% of the island's 32 million people live on less than $3 per day, and poverty levels have barely declined over the past decade. Less than 40% of its people have access to electricity.
On Sunday, sweeping month-long youth protests over power and water outages, dubbed a “Generation Z revolution,” evolved into a more traditional type of insurrection when an elite arm of Madagascar’s military overthrew the government in what the African Union denounced as a coup.
The upheaval highlights the challenges ahead for U.S. companies as Washington attempts to reduce its dependency on China, which controls most of the world’s mining and processing of key metals such as rare earths and lithium.
The Biden administration sought to get around the issue by making minerals extracted from countries with which the U.S. had free trade agreements eligible for the Inflation Reduction Act’s most generous electric vehicle tax credits. That strategy put a particular focus on allies with vast mining industries, including Australia, Chile, and Canada.
While President Donald Trump has phased out the tax credits, his administration has tried to broker deals across the world with developing countries whose resources China has largely monopolized in recent years. In May, Trump signed a deal with Ukraine to secure revenues from its as-yet largely untapped minerals once the war with Russia ends — a precondition for his administration’s continued assistance in the effort to repel the Kremlin’s invasion. A month later, Trump negotiated a peace deal between the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Rwanda, pausing a bloody conflict and setting the stage for the U.S. to secure new contracts for raw materials in the war-torn but resource-rich part of central Africa.
The administration’s ongoing pressure on Denmark to cede its autonomous territory of Greenland to the U.S. is widely considered a play for the Arctic island’s minerals. Earlier this month, Reuters reported that the administration is considering buying a stake in Critical Metals, a company prospecting for rare earths in Greenland.
Washington’s appetite for critical minerals could even redraw world maps in the next few years.
Under the terms of a peace agreement that ended a decade-long civil war in the 1980s, Bougainville, a breakaway island off Papua New Guinea, is slated to hold a referendum in 2027 over whether to become an independent nation. Polls suggest the overwhelming majority of voters will support secession. In the U.S., a former investment banker turned novelist named John D. Kuhns has taken up the cause of Bougainville’s independence, advocating that Washington support the would-be republic whose biggest economic asset is a shuttered Rio Tinto copper mine that the autonomous government wants to reopen — potentially with U.S. help.
Trump is also weighing recognizing the breakaway region of Somalia’s independence as Somaliland, which has functioned as a sovereign nation with an internationally praised democracy for more than three decades, in a bid to secure deals to mine its mineral riches. Senator Ted Cruz, the Texas Republican, called on Trump to grant Somaliland recognition as recently as August.
But the most promising potential region for critical minerals may be the one sandwiched between America’s two greatest rivals. In September 2013, then-President Joe Biden huddled with the leaders of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan on the sidelines of the United Nations General Assembly in New York. From that summit came the C5+1, a partnership between the U.S. and the five Central Asian nations to work on critical minerals. Weeks after Trump returned to office, Secretary of State Marco Rubio affirmed the Trump administration’s support for the partnership in a call with his Uzbek counterpart.
After Australia and Canada, the Central Asian republics represent the “lowest-hanging fruit” for developing a U.S. critical mineral supply chain, said Pini Althaus, a veteran mining executive making deals in the region. The countries are relatively stable, have recently enacted business reforms meant to invite U.S. companies to work there, and — as a means of safeguarding their independence from Moscow and Beijing — are eager to make deals with the U.S., he said.
“We are at least a couple of decades away from having a domestic supply chain in the United States that can meet all of our critical mineral needs,” Althaus told me. “Practically speaking, we don’t have enough of these materials in the U.S., so we must partner with allied countries. Central Asia offers a lot of these opportunities.”
These days, however, political instability isn’t unique to developing countries. The Trump administration is supposed to host a meeting of the C5+1 in Washington as early as next month, Althaus said — that is, if the ongoing government shutdown is resolved.
In a press conference about the newly recast program’s first loan guarantee, Energy Secretary Chris Wright teased his project finance philosophy.
Energy Secretary Chris Wright on Thursday announced a $1.6 billion loan guarantee for American Electric Power to replace 5,000 miles of transmission lines with more advanced wires that can carry more electricity. He also hinted at his vision for how the Trump administration could recast the role of the department's Loan Programs Office in the years to come.
The LPO actually announced that it had finalized an agreement, conditionally made in January under the Biden administration, to back AEP’s plan. The loan guarantee will enable AEP to secure lower-cost financing for the project, for an eventual estimated saving to energy consumers of $275 million over the lifetime of the loan.
“These are the kind of projects where we’re going to partner with businesses to make our energy system more efficient, more reliable, ultimately lower cost,” Wright said on a call with reporters.
And yet in the past few months, the department has also canceled loan guarantees and grants for other transmission projects that were expected to provide those same benefits — including the Grain Belt Express, an 800-mile line set to bring low-cost wind power from Kansas to the Chicago metropolitan area in Illinois.
“We don’t care about authorship,” Wright told reporters, acknowledging that the AEP loan was conditionally approved by the Biden administration. “Not all of them were nonsense. The ones that are in the interest of the American taxpayers, in the interest of the American ratepayers, and there’s a helpful role for government capital — we’re happy to support those.”
When asked specifically why AEP’s proposal met his criteria while the Grain Belt Express didn’t, Wright first made an argument about cost. “I have nothing against the Grain Belt Express,” he said. “I suspect it’ll still be developed. But it’s far more expensive on a per mile basis since it’s a brand new transmission line.”
His subsequent comments, however, hinted at a more significant shift in approach. He went on to argue that the project came with an unacceptable amount of risk since the developers didn’t have buyers yet for the power coming down the line. It was trying to “close on arbitrage,” he said, by buying up cheap wind power that was stranded in Kansas and bringing it to a larger market. “It’s a more commercial enterprise,” he said. “That’s done with private entrepreneurs and private capital.”
It’s important to note that the Grain Belt Express loan guarantee would have been issued under an innovation-focused program within the Loan Programs Office that was specifically geared toward higher risk projects that banks won’t otherwise touch. The AEP project is part of a different program focused on more mature technologies, with a goal of reducing the cost of major utility infrastructure upgrades to ratepayers.
When I floated Wright’s comments by Jigar Shah, the former head of the Loan Programs Office under the Biden administration, he was flummoxed. “It’s nonsensical,” he said. To Shah, taking Wright’s risk aversion to its logical conclusion would mean, for instance, that the office should not fund any nuclear energy projects. “If this becomes a new standard, that means nuclear is dead in the United States,” he said.
AEP is the first developer to secure a loan guarantee under the Energy Dominance Financing Program, Congress’ new name a Biden-era program within LPO that offered loan guarantees to utilities to “retool, repower, repurpose, or replace energy infrastructure.” Initially called the Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment Financing Program and created by the Inflation Reduction Act, it focused on projects with climate benefits, like making efficiency upgrades to power plants or installing renewables on the site of a former coal plant.
In the Biden administration’s view, AEP’s project would “contribute to emissions reductions by supporting existing and new clean generation by expanding transmission capacity in the regions in which they operate.”
Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act rebranded the program and removed any requirements that projects reduce emissions. On Thursday’s call, Wright seemed to imply that it wasn’t just the Biden-era loan program that had been renamed. “The Loan Program Office is being rechristened the Energy Dominant Financing — it is the rechristening of the same department,” he said in response to a question about the office’s remaining loan authority. The Department of Energy did not respond to my request for clarification.
None of that means that the potential emissions benefits from AEP’s project won’t materialize. Limited transmission capacity is one of the biggest obstacles for bringing new wind and solar power online, and reconductoring could also reduce line losses, making the overall grid more efficient.
The transmission project — which includes plans to rebuild some power lines and reconductor others — will ultimately increase capacity by more than 100%, a spokesperson for AEP told me. The first phase will involve upgrades to about 100 miles of wires across Ohio and Oklahoma, while future phases will tackle lines in Indiana, Michigan, and West Virginia, with the intent of meeting growing demand from data centers and manufacturing development, according to a press release.
When reporters asked Wright about the other conditional loan guarantees the Biden administration had issued under the Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment program that are still pending, the secretary stressed that he was looking for applicants that had identified a clear set of projects they would implement. “Many were done in a hurry, without really even having the projects that the loans would be associated with identified. You can end up with a grab bag of projects without a lot of say for where the money went,” he said.
Wright accused the Biden administration of failing to ask applicants to detail the impact the projects would have on taxpayers and ratepayers — a key question his colleagues are now asking.
Shah disagreed with that portrayal. The whole point of the program was to reduce interest rates for utilities and require them to pass on the benefit to ratepayers. All of the projects awarded conditional commitments met that bar, he said.
He warned that if the Trump administration didn’t honor the remaining conditional commitments to utilities under the program — all 10 of them — it risked losing the trust of any new companies it attempts to make similar deals with.
“Most of the nuclear projects that they’re looking to chase are not going to get closed until 2028. And so what signal are they sending? That projects that get approved in the last year of an administration are not going to be honored in the next administration?”