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The decarbonization benefits abound.

Electric vehicles? Really?
Is it really true that Heatmap looked at every way that you can decarbonize your life, meditated upon the politics, did the math, and concluded … that you should buy an EV? Are EVs really that important to fighting climate change?
You’ll find more thorough answers to all those questions throughout Decarbonize Your Life (plus our guide to buying an EV), but the short answer is: Yes. If you really need a car, then switching from a gas car to an electric vehicle (or at least a plug-in hybrid) is the most important step you can take to combat climate change. And it’s not only good for your personal carbon footprint, it’s good for the entire energy system.
Here is why we make that recommendation — and why you should trust us:
The best reason to use an electric vehicle is the most straightforward one: Driving an EV produces fewer greenhouse gases than driving a gasoline- or diesel-burning car. The Department of Energy estimates that the average EV operating in the U.S. produces 2,727 pounds of carbon dioxide pollution each year, while the average gasoline-burning car emits 12,594 pounds of carbon dioxide. Even a conventional hybrid vehicle — like a Toyota Prius — emits 6,800 pounds of CO2, or roughly 2.5 times as much as an EV.
These gains hold almost regardless of how you analyze the question. Even in states where coal makes up a large share of the power grid — such as West Virginia, Wyoming, or Missouri — EVs produce half as much CO2 as gasoline vehicles, according to the DOE. That’s because EVs are much more energy efficient than internal combustion vehicles. So even though coal is a dirtier energy source than gasoline or diesel, EVs need to use far less of it (in the form of electricity) to drive an additional mile.
EVs retain this carbon advantage even when you take into account their full “lifecycle” emissions — the cost of mining minerals, refining them, building a battery, and shipping a vehicle to its final destination. Across the full lifetime of a vehicle, EVs will release 57% to 68% less climate pollution than internal-combustion cars in the United States, according to a landmark analysis from the International Council on Clean Transportation. (As the publication Carbon Brief has shown, many analyses of EVs versus gas cars fail to take into account the full lifecycle emissions of the fossil-fuel system: the carbon pollution produced by extracting, refining, and transporting a gallon of gasoline.)
Even if you only care about emissions math, two more important reasons justify switching to an EV.
First, when you switch to an EV, you cut down enormously on the marginal environmental cost of driving an additional mile. Most of an EV’s environmental harm is “front-loaded” in its lifetime; that is, it is associated with the cost of producing and selling that vehicle. (Most electronics, including smartphones and laptops, have a similarly front-loaded carbon cost.)
But the carbon emissions of driving an additional mile are relatively low. In other words, converting an additional kilowatt of electricity into a mile on the road is relatively benign for the climate.
That’s not the case for an internal combustion vehicle. In a conventional gasoline- or diesel-powered car, every additional mile you drive requires you to burn more fossil fuels.
Don’t overthink it: There is no way to operate a gasoline or diesel car without burning more fossil fuels. Conventional ICE cars are machines that turn fossil fuels into (1) miles on the road and (2) greenhouse gas pollution. This means that — importantly — using an internal combustion vehicle, or even a conventional hybrid vehicle, will never be climate-friendly.
That’s why the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has concluded that switching to an electrified transportation system — in other words, switching from gas cars to EVs — is “likely crucial” for cutting climate pollution and meeting the Paris Agreement goals. As the International Council on Clean Transportation concluded recently, “There is no realistic pathway for deep decarbonization of combustion engine vehicles.”
This calculus is likely to improve over time. Over the past decade, the U.S. power grid’s climate pollution has plunged while emissions from the transportation sector have slightly risen; we anticipate that, over the next decade, the U.S. power grid’s greenhouse gas emissions are likely to decline at least moderately. Energy experts also expect more renewables to get built, and that natural gas will continue to drive coal off of the grid. These changes mean that the per-mile cost of driving an EV will likely fall. (If you’re in the market for an EV, Heatmap is here to guide you.)
When you switch to an EV, you do something else, too — something that may sound self-evident but is actually quite important: You increase demand for EVs and for the EV ecosystem.
To be painfully direct about why this is important, this means that you stop spending so much money into the gasoline-powered driving system — the network of car dealers, gas stations, and oil companies that subsist on fossil fuels — and begin paying for products and services from the car dealerships, charging stations, and automakers who have invested in the new, low-carbon future.
This is more important than it may seem at first. In the United States, automakers have struggled to ramp up their EV production in part because consumers haven’t been buying their EVs. EVs are a manufactured good, and the world is betting on their continued technological improvement. The more EVs get made at a company or industry level, the cheaper they should get. When you buy an EV, you prime the pump for further improvements in that manufacturing chain.
Under the Biden administration, the Environmental Protection Agency has adopted rules that could make EVs more than half of all new cars sold by 2032. But those rules are somewhat flexible — automakers could also meet them by selling a lot of conventional and plug-in hybrids — and they are under legal threat. If Donald Trump wins this year’s presidential election, then he will almost certainly roll them back, much as he reversed the Obama administration’s less ambitious car rules. And even if Kamala Harris wins, then the zealously conservative Supreme Court could easily throw out the rules.
Under most future scenarios, in other words, American consumers will have considerable power over how rapidly the country switches to electric vehicles. Even in a world where the federal government keeps subsidizing EV manufacturing and offers a $7,500 tax credit for EV buyers, the country’s transition to EVs will still depend on ordinary American families deciding to make a change and buy the cars.
So if you want to decarbonize your life, switching to an EV — provided that you drive enough for it to make sense — is one of the most important steps that you can take.
When you switch to an electric vehicle, you are doing several things. First, you are cutting off a source of demand for the oil industry. Second, you are creating a new source of demand for the EV industry. Third, you are generating new demand for the companies and infrastructure — such as charging stations — that will be needed for the entire transition.
Buying an EV is a climate decision that makes sense if you want to cut your carbon footprint and if you want to change the American energy system. That’s why it’s Heatmap’s No. 1 recommendation for how to decarbonize your life.
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Investment in zero-carbon energy and transportation surged this spring, driven by consumer EV and battery buying.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
Ready to be surprised? Clean energy and transportation investment surged in the second quarter of this year, rising to more than $75 billion in total, according to new data released earlier this week.
In fact, this spring was the second biggest quarter for U.S. clean investment in nominal terms since at least 2018, when data started to be kept. More than 5% of overall investment in the United States went into a clean energy or transportation industry.
That’s according to the Clean Investment Monitor, a joint project of the MIT Center for Energy and Environmental Policy Research and the Rhodium Group, a private research firm. The monitor tracks nationwide investment across a number of sectors that make up the new electricity economy, including critical mineral refining, battery manufacturing, solar and wind installation, and electric vehicle and heat pump purchases by consumers (among other variables).
Outside of a promising headline number, the story is a mixed one. Investment in America’s clean manufacturing sector started growing again last quarter after falling for 18 months; it remains about 24% below where it was a year earlier, according to the project. The new growth came overwhelmingly from investment in the EV supply chain — defined as “critical minerals, batteries, vehicle assembly, and charging equipment” — driving a staggering 88% of all clean manufacturing investment. That subsector alone made up more than 9% of all U.S. clean investment.
The more interesting story — and what leaps out from the chart — is that retail activity drove the spring resurgence. High gasoline prices helped here, pushing consumers to buy all-electric and plug-in hybrid vehicles in larger numbers. (Rivian, Tesla, and other automakers started to see an EV rebound last quarter, too, after Republicans ended EV incentives in 2025.) But the real boom came in residential batteries, which surged to an all-time high of $11 billion in quarterly sales. Consumer activity hasn’t made up such a large share of national clean investment since 2023.
This trend wasn’t just happening in the United States. We’ve talked a lot at Heatmap about whether the Strait of Hormuz crisis will drive a clean energy boom. But it's now clear the oil price shock really did encourage global EV adoption. Some 50 countries set new EV sales records in 2026’s second quarter, according to Kelley Blue Book. India, Brazil, and Australia all set record highs. That's a lot of demand destruction.
As costs rise, more proceeds from the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative are going to direct bill relief.
A carbon price can be a tough sell when electricity costs are rising.
That’s what governors up and down the eastern seaboard are facing as they decide what to do with revenues from the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative, an 11-state cap-and-trade program for the electricity sector that operates from Virginia to Maine.
In Virginia and New Jersey, two states where Democratic governors won last year amidst a maelstrom of concern about rising electricity prices, the program has been at least partially reoriented around putting dollars back into the pockets of ratepayers.
Virginia only recently rejoined the group this year after having left under the leadership of Republican Glenn Youngkin in 2023. When Virginia was last a member of RGGI, the proceeds from the auctions for emissions allowances largely went to an energy efficiency program for low-income households and a flood resilience fund. Today, having rejoined RGGI, some 45% of the revenue will be earmarked for rate relief, thanks to a budget amendment passed in June.
In New Jersey, meanwhile, Governor Mikie Sherrill has used money raised through to help fulfill the rate freeze pledge on which she centered her campaign for Drumthwacket by directly reducing bills.
Conservatives in RGGI states have for years tried to make a stink about the up-front costs it imposed on ratepayers. Now as electricity costs balloon, Democratic governors and state legislatures are looking to RGGI to help balance their emissions goals and efforts to keep electricity bills under control.
In New Hampshire, for instance, the most conservative state to be a consistent RGGI member, nearly all the state’s proceeds from the program now go to rate relief, compared to about three-quarters historically. In its latest report on how RGGI funds get used, the organization reported that in 2024, the last year for which comprehensive data is available, some 23% of RGGI proceeds went to direct bill assistance, compared to 16% over the 17-year lifetime of the system.
“The affordability narrative is the leading political narrative of 2026. And the albatross around the neck of carbon pricing has been that it’s going to raise energy prices,” Dallas Burtraw, a senior fellow at Resources for the Future, told me.
Seen holistically, Burtraw told me, “carbon pricing is built for affordability.” That’s because, one, economists generally consider carbon pricing the cheapest and most efficient way to hit a given emissions reduction goal (assuming, that is, that you want to reduce emissions in the first place), and secondly because the proceeds from the carbon price can be invested and distributed in ways that mitigate price hikes.
“Carbon pricing raises tremendous proceeds, and the question comes down to the distributional impacts of carbon pricing. It always comes down to how you use those carbon proceeds,” Burtraw told me.
The current pressure for rate relief comes as RGGI prices have risen as the same time electricity prices up and down the East Coast are at or near all-time highs. The clearing price in the latest quarterly auction for carbon dioxide allowances was $35 per ton, the highest price in the history of the program, bringing in some $642 billion to be distributed among the states. By contrast, the third quarter auction in 2025 had a clearing price of $19.63 and raised some $300 million.
At the same time, electricity bills have risen across the RGGI system, including an 18.5% rise in New Jersey by 12.5% rise in New Hampshire just over the past year, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub.
Because every state in the RGGI system besides Virginia operates in a restructured wholesale electricity market, it’s hard to say exactly how much RGGI prices affect ratepayer bills. In Virginia, Dominion, the dominant utility, has requested permission for a rider on bills of $10 to $13 per month, compared to monthly added costs under $3 when Youngkin began the process of withdrawing Virginia from the system in 2022.
In a New Jersey regulatory filing, meanwhile, the state’s Board of Public Utilities recommended using RGGI proceeds to fund $150 million of rate relief for moderate- and low-income households that Sherrill announced in June, citing an update to the state’s three-year strategic plan for RGGI that directly the NJBPU “to provide direct bill credits on residential energy bills for NJ’s most vulnerable residents.” There is precedent for this in the Garden State: In 2025 Governor Phil Murphy helped deliver rate relief by shifting some RGGI money around.
The trend toward using RGGI funds for rate relief has caused disquiet among environmental groups that support carbon pricing and want to see the dollars largely go to energy efficiency programs, not ratepayers.
In 2025, a coalition of Virginia environmental groups that supported rejoining RGGI called for revenue to go to the “low-income energy efficiency fund and the Community Flood Preparedness Fund.” The Flood Preparedness Fund issues grants to local governments for flood mitigation and resiliency projects, while the energy efficiency programs fund things like home weatherization.
“The case we’ve made to our environmental advocates in Virginia is that we have taken 45% towards RGGI credits, but we’ve left 55% of the revenue. That leaves each of the programs with record levels of funding,” Josephus Allmond, Virginia’s chief energy officer, told me, referring to the flood and energy efficiency programs that have historically been funded by RGGI.
“We were able to take what could have been a pretty negative impact to residential customer bills and turn it into something we can basically hold customers harmless.”
While the Natural Resources Defense Council has said it supports temporary rate relief to low-income ratepayers, it also has also mounted a defense of using RGGI revenues “to fund energy and environmental programs.”
“Several states are using larger amounts of program proceeds to provide households with bill credits or rebates that immediately lower monthly electricity bills, which means less investment in programs that provide long-term benefits,” Jo Gardias and Dawone Robinson wrote for the NRDC.
To me, Gardias framed the debate between energy efficiency programs and bill credits as between up-front and long-term benefits.
“Energy efficiency programs not only save the households that are getting the upgrade money, but every other customer through avoided transmission and distribution and generation costs,” Gardias told me. “On the far end there’s energy efficiency where you’re getting lifetime savings, on the shorter or more immediate end there’s the bill credit on energy savings.”
RGGI itself has estimated that every $1 of investments funded by the auction results in a lifetime bill savings of just over $4. In 2024 alone, RGGI claims that investments “are associated with approximately $363.9 million in annual energy bill savings and $2.6 billion in lifetime bill savings.”
“The question of how you spend proceeds is a large question of tradeoffs,” Gardias said. “What we’re seeing now is that because we have price spikes that are happening from data centers and other factors, there’s more interest in spending money on bill credits that provide immediate relief.”
Of course, this is the dilemma with all climate policy. The costs are immediate and upfront, while the benefits accrue over time and are more difficult to attribute to any one program or investment.
“There’s a lot of priorities for ways that you should use carbon proceeds to address the challenges of climate change,” Burtraw said. “But in 2026, given the affordability narrative and the populist sentiment in politics today, it makes sense to use carbon proceeds to reduce electricity prices.”
While an economist could draw up a cost benefit analysis that shows any number of uses of the proceeds could be more efficient for the economy or the environment — using the money to reduce taxes on investment, say, or using the money to fund energy efficiency programs — any of those would assume certain baseline of support for carbon pricing in the first place.
“For 25 years we’ve argued about this with the expectation that carbon pricing was inevitable because it was so much more efficient than any other type of approach. But we’ve seen after 25 years that carbon pricing is not inevitable,” Burtraw said. “We have to face the realities of what it takes to make it possible to do carbon pricing.”
Misan Lychee is made with “some” carbon dioxide captured “directly from the air,” along with 14.6 grams of added sugar.
I believe life should be a little bit silly, which is why I’m a sucker for a gimmick. A hotel just for napping? Sign me up. A “convenience store” full of items made of felt? I now own a bag of inedible Fritos. Hot sauce packaged to look like dynamite? Cute, add to cart.
And when I found out that you can buy soda carbonated with CO2 obtained via direct air capture, I said, Take my sixteen American dollars and put it on ice.
Misan Lychee (which yes, only comes in lychee flavor “at the moment”) represents the distant hopes and dreams of DAC. Currently, there isn’t demand for carbon dioxide at direct air capture prices; it’s much, much cheaper just to buy the concentrated byproduct of, say, natural gas- and coal-fired ammonia plants to carbonate your soda than to go through the trouble of sucking the 0.04% of the air that is CO2 out of the atmosphere for a few bubbles. That’s why the carbon removal industry is propped up by offtake agreements and credits, at least until Brutalism comes back in a big way and dramatically increases the demand for concrete manufactured with stored CO2.
Still, that hasn’t stopped companies from trying. You can buy carbon-sequestered beer, DAC vodka, CO2-captured perfume, and recycled-emission yoga pants. But unlike other consumer products that are, in many cases, made from waste gas captured during industrial processes rather than from true atmospheric CO2, Misan claims on the can to be made from “some” carbon dioxide pulled “directly from the air using a technology called direct air capture.” The bottle sports the logo of Bay Area-based AirMyne, a DAC start-up, which, on further investigation, turns out to own Misan.
My order arrived rattling around in a cardboard box, with three of the cans having popped loose from the six-pack in transit. As someone with no impulse control (which, upon reflection, might be related to my love of gimmicks), I immediately opened a can. Over my laptop. We both got drenched by the resulting geyser. CO2’s presence: confirmed.
What happened next was, admittedly, also user error. I took a sip and immediately went, “Yuck, what?” That’s because after a summer of drinking my way through every Waterloo flavor, I was expecting Misan Lychee to be a seltzer, too. Despite its website describing it as a “climate-forward sparkling water,” it is not, and you can taste all 14.6 grams of its added sugar. It has a moderately cloying, perfumy flavor that my dad described as “strawberry, but disturbing?” when I asked him to do a blind taste test. I think it’s perhaps closer in taste to pear, and I remain optimistic that someone who has more free time than me could come up with a recipe to turn it into a “sustainable” spritz.
Actually, to that point — is it sustainable? It notably doesn’t claim to be, and it has its skeptics. Richard Waite of the World Resources Institute pointed out on Bluesky that carbon dioxide is only “sequestered” until it leaves our metabolic system the usual way, via exhalation or burps. Still, his questions about the energy source of AirMyne’s direct air capture — and thus the carbon-emitting or -removing properties of the soda — generated lots of good puns in the replies. “Run out of polar before we run out of Polar” comes to us courtesy of Costa Samaras.
The second Misan Lychee I cracked also soaked me, although I was prepared this time and at least opened it out of range of electronics. I also paid more attention to the can, which has an unusual but not unpleasant matte feel. The list of ingredients on the back seems surprisingly long for the supposed golden age of “gut sodas” that advertise such things as the inclusion of “plant fibers.” Rather than prebiotics, Misan contains “xanthan gum” and an ominous concoction identified as “cloudy agent.”
If Misan isn’t healthier for me or the planet, then what is it for, exactly? I returned to the six lines of all-caps text printed on the front of the can:
Some of the CO2 in this can was pulled directly from the air using a technology called direct air capture (DAC). If scaled, DAC could do more than just carbonate your water. It could remove millions of tons of CO2 from the atmosphere, fighting climate change.
Gimmicks are, ultimately, ways to sell you something. Water gets packaged to look more “manly;” you might buy a Coca-Cola instead of a Pepsi if it has your name on it. But Misan isn’t ultimately selling itself with the promise of bubbles brought to you by DAC. It’s the other way around: Misan is the marketing vehicle for AirMyne. They want you to drink the DAC Kool-Aid.
Will I buy Misan Lychee again? Not likely: I have De La Calle! Mango Chili Mexican sodas to drink, made from the fermented rind of pineapples — BYOCO2, if you will.
Then again, never say never. If I learn about the existence of Misan Chikoo or Misan Pistachio-Rosewater during a weak moment, I’ll probably be down another $16. But I’ll open it over the sink this time.