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Toyota and Honda never really believed in EVs. Then China gave them a wake-up call.

An entire nation’s automotive industry may have misjudged the moment. Environmental issues are forcing changes it doesn’t seem ready for. New competitors boasting more efficient technologies have led some observers to wonder if it will survive at all.
Am I talking about America’s automotive industry during the infamous 1970s Malaise Era, or the Japanese auto industry in the 2020s? In the growing arms race around battery-electric vehicles, Japan’s automakers may have some serious catching up to do.
On a lot of levels, comparing the Toyota of today to, say, Ford in 1977 is rather unfair. After all, automakers like Toyota, Honda, Mazda, Subaru and the rest — though hammered by the pandemic and the chip shortage — continue to be handsomely profitable and still produce high-quality, reliable, and fuel-efficient traditional cars and hybrids. It’s hard to start a Death Watch for a company like Toyota when it sold more than 10 million cars globally last year.
But buyers who are loyal to Japanese brands and want to break up with gasoline entirely are better served by Tesla, Ford, Chevrolet, or Hyundai.
Nissan, an early pioneer in the EV world with the soon-to-be-discontinued Leaf, offers just one electric crossover and its production is already flagging. Mazda’s sole battery electric vehicle, the MX-30, only has about 100 miles of range and is only sold in California, as if it were a compliance car from a decade ago. Toyota has one battery-electric vehicle it co-developed with Subaru and also sells as a Lexus. All three versions suffer from middling range, subpar tech, and a lack of fast-charing power like many rivals; two were also recalled last year because their wheels were falling off. (It doesn’t, to paraphrase a TV show from my youth, smack of effort.) Then there’s Honda, which has just one fully electric SUV coming out next year called the Prologue — and under the skin, it’s actually one of General Motors’ EVs.
It’s an unfathomable outcome for the Japanese auto industry. Not that long ago, Japan Inc. was teaching the rest of the world how to efficiently and reliably make cars; Honda was making engines for GM, not the other way around. Now, even Toyota, the creator of the Prius and godfather of the original hybrid car, is being called out by environmental activist groups.
Things do seem to be changing rapidly. Several Japanese automakers are planning multibillion-dollar battery plants now, including in the U.S.; Honda is doing one in Ohio, Nissan in Tennessee, and Toyota in North Carolina. All of them, including tiny, independent Mazda, are planning big expansions of their all-electric lineups.
Toyota, in particular, has signaled under its new CEO that it’s deadly serious about EVs. Earlier this month the automaker announced what it calls “New Technology That Will Change the Future of Cars”: a significant revamping of its manufacturing processes to cut EV costs; a third of its global sales to be electric by 2030; newer, cheaper kinds of batteries; and ultimately, solid-state batteries — a kind of holy-grail technology being sought by countless companies — that could enable 900 miles of electric driving.
But it’s worth asking how these companies got relegated to “EV laggard” status, and the answer is complicated. In talking to countless people in and around the auto industry, I’ve come to the conclusion that Japan’s predicament has to do with perception as much as it does with conditions on the ground. And it speaks to the question of whether the future of cars will really — or should be — be fully battery-powered, and if so, how long it will take to get there.
But given how heavily the car market is trending toward battery EVs right now, Japan’s automakers may not have a choice but to meet the moment.
As global as car companies are, they’re often still rooted in their cultures and values at the home office. And Japan has plenty of reasons to be skeptical of battery EVs.
As a country, it’s poor in natural resources, making the raw materials key to EV batteries tough to obtain. Japan’s densely populated cities make car ownership generally undesirable, let alone ones that need to be charged somewhere. And the 2011 Fukushima disaster led to a decline in electricity from nuclear power plants. Japan made up the gap using fossil fuels, leading to a belief that fully battery-powered cars wouldn’t be as “green” as fuel-sipping hybrids since they relied on a dirty energy grid.
That local backdrop helps explain why Toyota, usually the world’s largest or second-largest automaker, has tilted so heavily toward hybrid evangelism. Over the past few years, it’s turned much of its car lineup into hybrids, even its latest pickup trucks — a stratospheric reduction in carbon emissions, which the company deserves credit for. It argues that it takes fewer scarce minerals to build smaller batteries for hybrids than full EVs.
And Toyota says that it operates globally, with cars tailored to different regions’ needs; it’s a lot easier to fully electrify the cars in a country like Norway than it is in parts of Africa, where Toyota is a top-seller.
Finally, Toyota has spent several decades leading the charge for hydrogen as a power source for cars — both for fuel-cell EVs and as a zero-carbon liquid fuel for internal combustion. But right now, Toyota sells just one hydrogen fuel-cell car in America and only a handful of fueling stations exist on this continent. I’ve heard from those in the know that Toyota viewed hydrogen as a kind of 100-year project; the first in a long-term push toward what could become a kind of hydrogen-powered society as the supplies dwindled and petroleum became too expensive for most people.
But things have changed in recent years to challenge that thesis. Volkswagen’s diesel cheating scandal didn’t put a nail in internal combustion’s coffin, but it did force it to pick out a burial plot. Tesla’s sky-high stock price has investors demanding the same from other car companies. And the data around rising global temperatures from carbon emissions has only gotten more shocking in recent years. Hydrogen — which shows promise in heavy trucking, aviation and industrial applications — could still be a major fuel source, but the world clearly can’t wait 100 years.
Then there’s China, which is what really made the wake-up call that kicked Japan out of bed.
This year’s Auto Shanghai show, a motor industry expo that was the first one held in person since China’s COVID lockdowns ended, showed the world just how far ahead the Chinese automakers are with battery EVs. Driven by government mandates and ample funding, their battery supply chains are robust, their sales are booming, they’re rapidly expanding into places like Europe and Australia where they’re getting good reviews to boot. (For now, Chinese cars are kept out of the U.S. market by steep tariffs, but their arrival seems inevitable — if American consumers will have them.) And in China, those buyers are turning away from “foreign” brands like Honda, Ford and Toyota to buy local.
Even if you think, as I do, that any transition to an EV car market will be messier and take longer than even car companies will publicly admit, the staggering public and private investments into battery plants and EV tech prove this is where the market is going right now. America alone is dumping billions of tax dollars into EV incentives and charging stations. Last week, Ford got a $9.2 billion Department of Energy loan and it’s certainly not for hydrogen fuel cells.
Meanwhile, demand for battery EVs is soaring; their share of the car market in America increases like clockwork every quarter. Hybrids are starting to be considered passé among the green crowd, even if they don’t necessarily deserve to be.
In order to compete in the world’s two biggest car markets now and beyond, they need to go electric. And soon.
It’s also important to understand that the entire auto industry’s move to battery electric power is a reluctant one. If any of these car companies could get a free pass to keep making the same kinds of cars and engines, with the same parts suppliers, dealer networks, and sales models they’ve used for a century, they’d take it in a heartbeat. Excitement from the marketing department masks real, palpable fears about whether they can pull it off or not, and we should all be questioning the authenticity of promises to go “zero-emission” by a hard date like 2035 even as they put billions of dollars into making new gasoline trucks and SUVs. The auto industry is slow to change on its best day, and this very expensive sea change is driven by regulations, China, and Tesla, not a passion for clean transportation.
So if you argue the Japanese automakers are behind the curve on EVs, you also have to ask, behind whom and behind how? The Tesla Model Y is now the best-selling car in the world, but Tesla struggles to launch new products; the same cannot be said of Toyota. EVs are still expensive and unprofitable for most car companies. Even Japan’s competitors are just now ramping up battery factories in America, driven by climate-friendly legislation pushed through over the past two years by the Biden administration. And every car company making EVs — GM, Ford, Hyundai, Volkswagen, all of them — is dealing with production defects, delays, software bugs, battery issues, and other problems.
But as Automotive News reported recently, Tesla and the Chinese car companies are not just making EVs but resetting the entire manufacturing process just as the “lean” manufacturing techniques pioneered by Toyota once did. Now Japan’s automakers are having to rethink how they make cars, just as they once forced the Americans and Europeans to do. Indeed, the future of Toyota manufacturing looks a lot like what Tesla’s doing now, which says a lot.
This isn’t just about making a new type of car; it’s about rethinking the entire car industry from top to bottom, including how the labor force and supply lines operate. Every automaker is still figuring it out. But while we’re still in the Wild West days of moving away from fossil fuels, waiting to act is no longer an option even from a business perspective — let alone a climate one.
Toyota’s big battery announcement does signal that change is coming. A 900-mile battery? I’ve heard these kinds of pie-in-the-sky claims from sketchy startup companies my entire career. It is not the kind of thing I hear from Toyota, arguably the most powerful manufacturing apparatus on the planet and a company whose culture stresses under-promising and over-delivering. Even Toyota’s “It’s coming!” promises around hydrogen never got this specific. So when Toyota lays down the gauntlet, I’m inclined to believe it’ll either make good on its word or come pretty damn close.
Even so, by the time the Japanese automakers get their best and most “modern” EVs on the road — software updates, more automated driving assistance, cheaper costs, better range — competitors like Ford and Hyundai will be on round two or three of doing the same thing.
For now, the Japanese automakers are probably smart to keep at least some powder dry when it comes to hybrids and hydrogen, especially in those places on Earth that might not be best served by fully electric cars quite yet. But if they don’t get moving on the EV front, they won’t have a chance to find out.
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Wildfires are moving east.
There were 77,850 wildfires in the United States in 2025, and nearly half of those — 49% — ignited east of the Mississippi River, according to statistics released last week by the National Interagency Fire Center. That might come as a surprise to some in the West, who tend to believe they hold the monopoly on conflagrations (along with earthquakes, tsunamis, and megalomaniac tech billionaires).
But if you lump the Central Plains and Midwest states of Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Texas along with everything to their east — the swath of the nation collectively designated as the Eastern and Southern Regions by the U.S. Forest Service — the wildfires in the area made up more than two-thirds of total ignitions last year.

Like fires in the West, wildfires in the eastern and southeastern U.S. are increasing. Over the past 40 years, the region has seen a 10-fold jump in the frequency of large burns. (Many risk factors contribute to wildfires, including but not limited to climate change.)
What’s exciting to wildfire researchers and managers, though, is the idea that they could catch changes to the Eastern fire regime early, before the situation spirals into a feedback loop or results in a major tragedy. “We have the opportunity to get ahead of the wildfire problem in the East and to learn some of the lessons that we see in the West,” Donovan said.
Now that effort has an organizing body: the Eastern Fire Network. Headed by Erica Smithwick, a professor in Penn State’s geography department, the research group formed late last year with the help of a $1.7 million, three-year grant from the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation, a partner with the U.S. National Science Foundation, with the goal of creating an informed research agenda for studying fire in the East. “It was a very easy thing to have people buy into because the research questions are still wide open here,” Smithwick told me.
Though the Eastern U.S. is finally exiting a three-week block of sub-freezing temperatures, the hot, dry days of summer are still far from most people’s minds. But the wildland-urban interface — that is, the high-fire-risk communities that abut tracts of undeveloped land — is more extensive in the East than in the West, with up to 72% of the land in some states qualifying as WUI. The region is also much more densely populated, meaning practically every wildfire that ignites has the potential to threaten human property and life.
It’s this density combined with the prevalent WUI that most significantly distinguishes Eastern fires from those in the comparatively rural West. One fire manager warned Smithwick that a worst-case-scenario wildfire could run across the entirety of New Jersey, the most populous state in the nation, in just 48 hours.
Generally speaking, though, wildfires in the East are much smaller than those in the West. The last megafire in the Forest Service’s Southern Region was as far west in its boundaries as you can get: the 2024 Smokehouse Creek fire in Texas and Oklahoma, which burned more than a million acres. The Eastern Region hasn’t had a megafire exceeding 100,000 acres in the modern era. For research purposes, a “large” wildfire in the East is typically defined as being 200 hectares or more in size, the equivalent of about 280 football fields; in the West, a “large” wildfire is twice that, 400 hectares or more.
But what the eastern half of the country lacks in total acres burned (for that statistic, Alaska edges out the Southern Region), it makes up for in the total number of reported ignitions. In 2025, for example, the state of Maine alone recorded 250 fires in August, more than doubling its previous record of just over 100 fires. “The East is highly fragmented,” Donovan, who is contributing to the Eastern Fire Network’s research, told me. “We have a lot of development here compared to the West, and so it’s much more challenging for fires to spread.”
Fires in the West tend to be long-duration events, burning for weeks or even months; fires in the East are often contained within 48 hours. In New Jersey, for example, “smaller, fragmented forests, which are broken up by numerous roads and the built environment, [allow] firefighters to move ahead of a wildfire to improve firebreaks and begin backfiring operations to help slow the forward progression,” a spokesperson for the New Jersey Forest Fire Service told me.
The parcelized nature of the eastern states is also reflected in who is responding to the fires. It is more common for state agencies and local departments — including many volunteer firefighting departments — to be the ones on the scene, Debbie Miley, the executive director of the National Wildfire Suppression Association, a trade group representing private wildland fire service contractors, told me by email. On the one hand, the local response makes sense; smaller fires require smaller teams to fight them. But the lack of a joint effort, even within a single state, means broader takeaways about mitigation and adaptation can be lost.
“Many eastern states have strong state forestry agencies and local departments that handle wildfire as part of an ‘all hazards’ portfolio,” Miley said. “In the West, there’s often a deeper bench of personnel and systems oriented around long-duration wildfire campaigns (though that varies by state).”
All of this feeds into why Smithwick believes the Eastern Fire Network is necessary: because of this “intermingling, at a very fine scale, of different jurisdictional boundaries,” conversations about fire management and the changing regimes in the region happen in parallel, rather than with meaningful coordination. Even within a single state, fire management might be divided between different agencies — such as the Game Commission and the Bureau of Forestry, which share fire management responsibilities in Pennsylvania. Fighting fires also often involves working with private landowners in the East; in the West, on the other hand, roughly two-thirds of wildfires burn on public land, which a single agency — e.g. the Bureau of Land Management, Forest Service, or Park Service — manages.
But “wildfire risk is going to be different than in the West, and maybe more variable,” Smithwick told me. Identifying the appropriate research questions about that risk is one of the most important objectives of the Eastern Fire Network.
Bad wildfires are the result of fuel and weather conditions aligning. “We generally know what the fuels are [in the East] and how well they burn,” Smithwick said. But weather conditions and their variability are a greater question mark.
Nationally, fire and emergency managers rely on indices to predict fire-weather risk based on humidity, temperature, and wind. But while those indices are dialed in for the Western states, they’re less well understood in the East. “We hope to look at case studies of recent fires that have occurred in the 2024 and 2025 window to look at the antecedent conditions and to use those as case studies for better understanding the mechanisms that led to that wildfire,” Smithwick said.
Learning more about the climatological mechanisms driving dry spells in the region is another explicit goal. Knowing how dry spells evolve, and where, will help researchers and eventually policymakers to identify mitigation strategies for locations most at risk. Smithwick also expects to learn that some areas might not be at high risk: “We can tell you that this is not something your community needs to invest in right now,” she told me.
Different management practices, jurisdictions, terrains, and fuel types mean solutions in the East will look different from those in the West, too. As Donovan’s research has found, the unmanaged regrowth of forests in the northeast in particular after centuries of deforestation has led to an increase in trees and shrubs that are prone to wildfires. Due to the smaller forest tracts in the area, mechanical thinning is a more realistic solution in eastern forests than on large, sprawling, remote western lands.
Prescribed burns tend to be more common and more readily accepted practices in the East, too. Florida leads the nation in preventative fires, and the New Jersey Forest Fire Service aims to treat 25,000 acres of forest, grasslands, and marshlands with prescribed fire annually.
The winter storms that swept across the Eastern and Southern regions of the United States last month have the potential to queue up a bad fire season once the land starts to thaw and eventually dry out. Though the picture in the Eastern Region is still coming into focus depending on what happens this spring, in the Southern region the storms have created “potential compaction of the abundant grasses across the Plains, in addition to ice damage in pine-dominant areas farther east,” the National Interagency Fire Center wrote in last Monday’s update to its nationwide fire outlook. (The nearly million-acre Pinelands of New Jersey are similarly a fire-adapted ecosystem and are “comparable in volatility to the chaparral shrublands found in California and southern Oregon,” the spokesperson told me.)
The compaction of grasses is significant because, although they will take longer to dry and become a fuel source, it will ultimately leave the Southern region covered with a dense, flammable fuel when summer is in full swing. Beyond the Plains, in the Southeast’s pine forests, the winter-damaged trees could cast “abundant” pine needles and “other fine debris” that could dry out and become flammable as soon as a few weeks from now. “Increased debris burning will also amplify ignitions and potential escapes, enhancing significant fire potential during warmer and drier weather that will return in short order,” NIFC goes on to warn.
Though the historically wet Northeast and humid Southeast seem like unlikely places to worry about large wildfires, as conditions change, nothing is certain. “If we learned anything from fire science over the past few decades, it’s that anywhere can burn under the right conditions,” Smithwick said. “We are burning in the tundra; we are burning in Canada; we are burning in all of these places that may not have been used to extreme wildfire situations.”
“These fires could have a large economic and social cost,” Smithwick added, “and we have not prepared for them.”
New guidelines for the clean fuel tax credit reward sustainable agriculture practices — but could lead to greater emissions anyway.
The Treasury Department published proposed guidance last week for claiming the clean fuel tax credit — one of the few energy subsidies that was expanded, rather than diminished, by Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act. There was little of note in the proposal, since many of the higher-stakes climate-related decisions about the tax credit were made by Congress in the statute itself. But it did clear up one point of uncertainty: The guidance indicates that the administration will reward biofuel crops cultivated using “climate-smart agriculture” practices.
On the one hand, it’s a somewhat surprising development simply because of Trump’s record of cutting anything with climate in the title. Last April, the U.S. Department of Agriculture terminated grants from a Biden-era “Climate-Smart Commodities” program, calling it a “slush fund,” and refashioned it into the “Advancing Markets for Producers” initiative.
On the other hand, depending on how the Trump administration implements it, integrating climate-smart agriculture into the clean fuel tax credit could become its own kind of slush fund, paying out billions in taxpayer dollars for questionable benefits and with little accountability.
The clean fuel tax credit, known by its section of the tax code as 45Z, subsidizes the production of low-carbon transportation fuels for vehicles and aviation. Companies can earn up to $1 per gallon depending on the carbon intensity of the production process.
Sourcing corn and soy from farms that use climate-smart agriculture practices is one potential way for biofuel producers to claim more of the credit. “Climate-smart agriculture” can refer to a wide variety of techniques that increase the amount of soil stored in carbon or otherwise reduce emissions, such as reducing soil disturbance, planting cover crops, or implementing nutrient management practices that reduce nitrous oxide emissions. But to date, the federal government has not issued guidance for how to account for these practices.
The Biden administration put out proposed rules just before leaving office that were quite controversial, Nikita Pavlenko, the fuels and aviation program director at the International Council on Clean Transportation, told me. The methodology relied entirely on modeling and did not require farmers to take any real-life measurements of soil carbon before or after adopting the climate-smart practice. The rules also assume that these climate-smart practices would be implemented anew, when in reality many farms have been practicing some of them for years without subsidies. That means ethanol producers could potentially get free money to buy corn from farms that adopted no-till practices long ago, with no additional benefit for the climate.
“These climate-smart ag practices are a rare example of bipartisanship, for what it’s worth, and there’s a lot of money to be made in it,” Pavlenko told me. “But I’m not sure exactly how much actual greenhouse gas reduction or sequestration.”
According to estimates by Pavlenko’s group, the lack of an additionality requirement could lead to the government paying $2.1 billion in subsidies for farms to keep doing what they were already doing, with no new benefits for the climate.
I should note that the climate integrity of the clean fuel tax credit, also known as 45Z, was already compromised by changes made in the OBBBA. Subsidies for crop-based biofuels can indirectly drive deforestation. Prior to Trump’s tax law, producers would have had to take into account emissions related to land use changes when they calculated the carbon intensity of their fuel. Now they don’t. The change will make it much easier for a fuel like ethanol, which is already heavily subsidized through other programs, to qualify.
That, in turn, could cost taxpayers an estimated five times as much per year. When the subsidy was first created in the Inflation Reduction Act, the Joint Committee on Taxation estimated that it would cost taxpayers $2.9 billion over three years. After the OBBBA passed, extending the credit by two years, the committee’s estimate was $25.7 billion.
The existing proposal for incorporating climate-smart agriculture practices into the tax credit calculation would likely push that estimate even higher. After the Biden administration released its proposal last January, groups like Pavlenko’s submitted comments critiquing the methods and suggesting changes. But after the Trump administration took over, it was unclear what would happen with it, he said.
Last week’s guidance was still somewhat vague about what’s next for the climate-smart agriculture calculations, saying only that the proposal published in January is still “undergoing testing, peer review, and public comment,” and that the Treasury expects it to be ready some time in 2026. In the meantime, the Treasury will be taking public comments on the broader 45Z guidance through April 6 and hold a public hearing on May 28.
On Tesla’s sunny picture, Chinese nuclear, and Bad Bunny’s electric halftime show
Current conditions: The Seattle Seahawks returned home to a classically rainy, overcast city from their win in last night’s Super Bowl, though the sun is expected to come out for Wednesday's victory parade • Severe Tropical Cyclone Mitchell is pummeling Western Australia with as much as 8 inches of rain • Flash floods from Storm Marta have killed at least four in Morocco.
Orsted’s two major offshore wind projects in the United States are back on track to be completed on schedule, its chief executive said. Rasmus Errboe told the Financial Times that the Revolution Wind and Sunrise Wind projects in New England would come online in the latter half of this year and in 2027, respectively. “We are fully back to work and construction on both projects is moving forward according to plan,” Errboe said. The U.S. has lost upward of $34 billion worth of clean energy projects since President Donald Trump returned to office, as I wrote last week. A new bipartisan bill introduced in the House last week to reform the federal permitting process would bar the White House from yanking back already granted permits. For now, however, the Trump administration has signaled its plans to appeal federal courts’ decisions to rule against its actions to halt construction on offshore turbines.
The fight over the billions in federal funding the White House is holding up for the Gateway rail project between New Jersey and New York, meanwhile, heated up over the weekend. On Friday night, a federal judge ordered the Trump administration to unfreeze the nearly $16 billion to the project, just hours after construction ground to a halt as funding ran dry. In her ruling, U.S. District Judge Jeannette Vargas of the Southern District of New York wrote that “plaintiffs have adequately shown that the public interest would be harmed by a delay in a critical infrastructure project.” Trump had his own idea in mind. Over the weekend, the White House proposed releasing the money only if Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer of New York agreed to rename Penn Station after Trump.
Tesla has started hiring staff to ramp up production of solar panels as the company looks to build 100 gigawatts of panel-manufacturing capacity supplied with raw materials produced in America. In a job posting on LinkedIn, Seth Winger, Tesla’s senior manager for solar products engineering, wrote that the panel-producing buildout was “an audacious, ambitious project.” For that, he wrote, “we need audacious, ambitious engineers and scientists to help us grow to massive scale. If you want to solve tough manufacturing problems at breakneck speed and help the U.S. breakthrough on renewable energy generation, come join us.” One of the listings indicated that the target date for bringing the new factories online was the “end of 2028,” giving an indication of timing that Reuters noted had been previously absent from Elon Musk’s public statements. Bloomberg reported last week that Tesla is already looking at sites in New York, Arizona, and Idaho for its manufacturing expansion.
The Trump administration tried to yank permits from the offshore wind projects off New England on the grounds that the towering turbines caused more ecological destruction than the electricity is worth. On Friday, however, Trump signed a proclamation reopening a giant marine preserve in the Atlantic Ocean to commercial fishing. First established at the end of the Obama administration, the Northeast Canyons and Seamounts Marine National Monument lies 130 miles off the coast of Cape Cod, encompassing what The New York Times described as “an area the size of Connecticut that is home to dolphins, endangered whales, sea turtles, and ancient deep-sea corals.” While Trump lifted the ban on commercial fishing in the zone during his first administration, President Joe Biden reinstated the restrictions. But this isn’t the first time Trump reopened a national marine national monument to fishing. In April, he ended protections for the Pacific Islands Heritage Marine National Monument located 750 miles west of Hawaii and designated by President George W. Bush in 2009.
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Connecitcut’s Department of Insurance has launched a website that displays extensive information about the climate risk of every property in the state in what E&E News called “an unprecedented move to alert residents and to promote flood insurance.” The details include each property’s history of damage from floods and other events predicted to get worse as the planet warms. “A single risk score does not fully convey flood and climate risk,” department spokesperson Mary Quinn said. The department plans a marketing campaign this year with ads on radio, TV, and social media, and workshops for insurance agents on how to use the website. Nationwide, climate change is already raising household costs by $900 per year, as Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin reported last year. Wildfires have already “destroyed California’s insurance market,” according to an interview with Heatmap's Shift Key podcast last year with an expert at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School.
Unit 1 of the Taipingling nuclear power station in China’s Guangdong has reached criticality seven years after construction began on the gigawatt-sized Hualong One reactor. The debut atom-splitting means the newest reactor is months, if not weeks, from entering into commercial operation. If that enticingly single-digit number of years to build a piece of infrastructure that takes the U.S. more than a decade wasn’t enough of a sign of China’s nuclear strengths, the country this week hit another milestone on a separate atomic station. At the Zhangzhou-3 nuclear reactor, workers last week installed the inner steel dome of the containment building.

Nearly a decade after Puerto Rico’s power grid collapsed and plunged America’s most populous territory into the second-longest blackout in world history, the island’s biggest musical star performed a Super Bowl halftime show that included linemen working on transformers. Bad Bunny’s performance, a revue of his reggaeton hits, served as an ode to what he called “my motherland, my homeland, Puerto Rico.” The grid still suffers regular outages. When it’s working, the power system sends occasional surges through wires that fry appliances. Electricity rates are higher than almost any state, despite Puerto Rico suffering worse poverty rates than Mississippi. At one point, Bad Bunny climbed a utility pole on stage waving a light-blue Puerto Rican flag, a symbol of the movement to establish the island territory as its own independent nation. It was a powerful political statement at America’s most-watched sporting event. For energy nerds, it was a rare opportunity to reflect on one of the worst, most prolonged infrastructure disasters in modern American history.