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If you’re of a certain age, you probably remember the hole in the ozone layer. Like Joseph Kony and Livestrong wristbands, the obsession over O3 now feels like a cultural artifact, thanks to ozone depletion being one of the rare success stories of international environmental cooperation. Since the world banned chlorofluorocarbons under the Montreal Protocol in 1987, the holes over the North and South poles have steadily recovered.
Today, if you hear about “ozone” at all, it’s much more likely to be from an air quality alert on your phone. Unlike the stratospheric ozone that we were all so concerned about in the 1980s and 1990s, which makes up a protective layer around the planet that insulates us from the sun’s cancer-causing ultraviolet rays, “tropospheric” or “ground-level” ozone is mainly man-made. In fact, when people throw around the word “pollution,” what they’re probably talking about is ground-level ozone, which is created by a chemical reaction between nitrogen oxides (highly reactive gases produced by burning fuels) and volatile organic compounds (organic compounds that easily evaporate under normal environmental conditions and can be found in vehicle exhaust as well as scented personal care products like deodorants, lotions, and bug sprays), plus sunlight. This chemical reaction usually occurs when cars, refineries, power plants, and other industrial sources emit pollutants into the environment during a hot, clear day. You probably know the result by its other name: smog.
Ozone is a climate issue not just because it is yet another concerning consequence of burning fossil fuels. According to some estimates, high levels of ground-level ozone pollution could grow in frequency by three to nine additional days per year by 2050 because of the gas’s close relationship with intense sunlight and high temperatures. While ozone dissipates fairly quickly once those conditions go away, it can build up while they last. Hot days, which are increasing in the U.S., also coincide with weak winds and stagnant air — conditions that allow ozone to accumulate in one place.
When the temperatures start to rise, here’s what you need to know and what you can do to protect yourself and others from ozone pollution.
Different pollutants cause concern at different concentrations. The Air Quality Index is designed so that, in theory, a level of “100” corresponds to the point at which people in sensitive populations might start to be affected by the pollutant in question. (To learn more about how the AQI is calculated, you can read our explainer here).
That said, “The evidence has clearly been increasing that lower levels of ozone — levels well below the current standard of 70 parts per billion — are causing more health impacts,” Katherine Pruitt, the national senior director of policy at the American Lung Association, which is campaigning to strengthen the standard to 55 to 60 parts per billion, told me.
As Pruitt explained, ozone is a caustic irritant and can corrode metals. Breathing it in can cause inflammation in anyone, “from vulnerable children and elders to even the fittest elite athletes,” Pruitt said, adding that it is, “at some level, like getting a sunburn on your lungs.” Anyone who spends time outside is vulnerable to ozone, but the more sensitive groups — including children; the elderly; people with asthma, chronic heart disease, and other diseases; and pregnant women — are at a higher risk. They might already be paying more attention to the AQI levels in their area, and will potentially notice that they need to slow down and limit exertion during “yellow” or “orange”-level ozone events.
In the short term, ozone pollution can cause coughing, shortness of breath, and a lowered immune response, on top of aggravating any preexisting lung conditions or diseases. But Pruitt stressed to me that “living in places that have high levels of ozone day in and day out, for months and years, can cause respiratory diseases, nervous system disorders, metabolic disorders, reproductive problems, and mortality. It’s not just a cough and a wheeze on one bad air day.”
Ozone requires two main ingredients: the burning of fossil fuels and other chemicals, and sunlight. While ozone concentrations can be high in communities with a lot of industry and freeways nearby, ozone is “not really so much a roadway problem; it’s more of what we call an ambient air pollutant,” Pruitt said. Ozone can travel far away from where it was produced, in other words.
There are some rules of thumb, though. The places with the highest emissions and most appropriate atmospheric conditions for ozone pollution are “increasingly the western U.S. and the Southwest,” Pruitt said. The top four worst cities for ozone on the 2024 State of the Air report by the ALA were all in California, led by Los Angeles and Long Beach.
Since the passage of the Clean Air Act in 1963, other regions of the country have been doing much better, including the Southeast, mid-Atlantic, and Northeast. (Bangor, Maine, had the cleanest air in the report.)
Because ozone is so strongly related to sunlight, it does not cause indoor air pollution to the same extent as wildfire smoke (which, if you’re keeping score, is a PM2.5 pollutant). “Because it’s so reactive, it gloms onto your furniture and your walls and stuff, once it gets inside,” Pruitt said of ozone. To protect yourself, you can just stay indoors and run your air conditioner.
But what if you want or need to go out? Because ozone is a gas rather than a particle, HEPA filters and face masks won’t protect you. Instead, Pruitt said that you can time your errands, tend to your garden, and exercise when the sunlight is the weakest — mornings, especially, tend to be less demanding on the lungs during ozone events.
The Clean Air Act of 1963 requires the Environmental Protection Agency to review the national ambient air quality standards for ozone (as well as several other pollutants) every five years. “It almost never actually does it every five years” though, Pruitt said. “Sometimes advocates have to sue them to get them to move things along.” The EPA completed its last review in December 2020, with the Trump administration maintaining the 70 parts per billion standard set in 2015. Attacks on the Clean Air Act would likely resume if Trump retakes office.
Aside from agitating for stricter clean air standards, there are measures you can take to protect others from ozone events. The simplest is not to contribute any more nitrogen oxides and volatile organic compounds to the environment than you otherwise have to when ozone levels are high. Avoid driving or idling your car; top off your tank during the coolest parts of the day, such as after dark; minimize your electricity use; and set your air conditioner no lower than 78 degrees.
In the long term, reducing ozone pollution will mean “choosing greener products for cleaning and personal care, so that we’re not producing volatile organic compounds,” Pruitt told me. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration previously found that in New York City in 2018, “about half” of the ambient volatile organic compounds it measured were produced by people, not vehicle exhaust. (Here’s a guide to reducing VOCs from your rotation.)
Additionally, “transitioning to zero-emission technologies so we're not burning fossil fuels” will help limit ozone pollution, Pruitt said. The difference can be pretty significant: A study from the University of Houston published earlier this month found that by switching to electric vehicles, New York and Chicago could prevent 796 and 328 premature pollution-related deaths per month, respectively. Counterintuitively, the study found that more EVs on the roads could increase mortality in Los Angeles due to a corresponding increase in secondary organic aerosols caused by complicated dynamics between nitrogen oxides and volatile organic compounds and the city’s unique geography. “This underscores the need for region-specific environmental regulations,” the authors said.
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The president has paid $4 billion to kill projects that were already dying or dead.
At a certain level, it defies belief: The Trump administration is spending nearly $4 billion … for nothing.
It’s paid something for nothing at least five times now. Last week, the administration reached a $1.2 billion deal with the German energy company RWE to not build three wind farms, including a large installation off the coast of New Jersey. The Chicago-based developer Invenergy signed a separate deal in June. It’s not clear these deals are legal, yet they keep happening.
These agreements mark the formal end of the first American offshore wind boom, which began in the late 2010s and stepped up during the Biden administration. This buildout, alas, never quite found its sea legs. As recently as February 2022, you could squint at the horizon and imagine that 14 gigawatts of turbines might soon spin along the East Coast. Now, we’ll be lucky to get more than six gigawatts by the end of the decade.
That’s a lot of lost generation capacity — and as I’ve repeatedly written, its absence is going to be a problem for the northeastern United States. The Mid-Atlantic and New England, which were set to receive some of the largest offshore facilities, will still need a lot more new electricity in the years to come, especially during winters. (New York City, for instance, now avoids blackouts by relying on two aging barge-mounted power plants parked in the East River.) And while many of the developers who received President Trump’s payouts pointed to fossil fuel investments in their press releases — as if to imply that those other projects were “replacing” the lost wind farms — relatively few of the power plants mentioned will be built in the Northeast.
Yet there’s another weird aspect of these offshore deals that I haven’t focused on as much: Why are they happening in the first place? That’s the subject of a helpful new article published today by James Sallee, an economics professor at UC Berkeley. He observes that many of the offshore wind projects that the Trump administration has now paid to “cancel” were struggling financially long before January 20, 2025. Few of the farms, if any, would have been built under any administration. So why, exactly, is Trump paying off their developers?
Let’s roll the tape. More than four years ago, the Biden administration held the country’s largest offshore auction ever for a set of promising offshore-wind sites along the Atlantic coast. That brought in more than $4 billion; as part of it, a German company named RWE placed a record-shattering bid for a particularly promising area off New Jersey’s coast. The date? February 25, 2022.
As it turned out, that auction was not the most important thing that happened that week in global energy markets — or world history. A day earlier, Russian troops began their full-scale invasion of Ukraine, igniting a geopolitical firestorm that ultimately ushered in an era of tighter energy supplies, rampant inflation, and higher interest rates. Although the offshore developers could not have known it then, those three trends would reshape the economics of their projects. That’s because offshore wind farms — far more than solar, battery, or gas plants — require titanic upfront investment, as Sallee writes:
Offshore wind is extremely capital intensive: enormous costs come up front, while revenue arrives over decades. Inflation raised the cost of steel, turbines, vessels, and labor. Higher interest rates reduced the present value of future revenue and raised financing costs. Where developers signed fixed-price contracts, developers were left holding the capital cost risk when conditions changed.
Unit economics started to deteriorate, and costs ballooned. Projects started to fail as early as October 2023, when Orsted canceled its Ocean Wind 1 and 2 projects slated for the New Jersey coast. I remember talking to an energy expert at the time who mused that for the same per-megawatt cost as an offshore wind farm, the state might as well just build a new Westinghouse nuclear reactor. (Its governor Mikie Sherrill is now exploring doing just that.)
By the time President Trump took office, in other words, many offshore wind projects were already on financial life support, if not deceased. Given the real underlying shift in project economics, that should have decreased the value of developers’ offshore leases — which are, as Sallee writes, more of an option than a permit, because they give a developer the right to study an area but do not authorize construction per se.
Yet over the past year, the Trump administration has reimbursed five developers largely in full, and it hasn’t gotten much in return. Perhaps that’s what the administration needed to do in order to fully kill these projects without risk of future legal sanction. Yet it is … strange. “The deals relate to development rights that look uneconomic today, even before the buyouts,” Sallee says. “The buyouts may limit how quickly offshore wind could rebound in a future economic and policy environment, but as of today it seems as though the government just spent $3.9 billion of taxpayer dollars spent to shoot a corpse.”
I wonder if that description undersells it. In a certain light, the government isn’t really shooting the corpse so much as handing it big wads of cash. Since the first of these deals were announced, I’ve struggled with what to call them — buyouts? payouts? — but Sallee’s post (which you should go read in full) made me wonder if bailout is the best option. After all, imagine if a hypothetical President Kamala Harris had reimbursed this same set of companies for the full value of their failed offshore wind bets — and used the Justice Department’s permanent and technically unlimited Judgement Fund to do it. What would journalists say then? How would Republicans respond?
Or to make the analogy truly work, I suppose, imagine that a President Harris had bailed out oil companies for some overly exuberant bet made during an earlier Republican administration, then claimed (with dubious evidence) that they would use the refunds to build renewables. That would still be an enormous waste of public money, but it would scramble the politics somewhat, perhaps evoking astonished embarrassment from her allies and delighted confusion from her opponents. Which might — to return to our world — mirror some of the response we’re seeing to Trump’s wind payouts.
As electricity prices rise, the stakes for the leaders of states like Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Indiana are only getting higher.
Governors are increasingly throwing their weight around in the technocratic and often obscure utility ratemaking process. The latest example is Virginia Governor Abigail Spanberger, who last week published a Washington Post op-ed announcing that she would intervene in the attempted acquisition of the state’s dominant utility, Dominion, by Florida utility and energy development company NextEra Energy.
Spanberger is “deeply skeptical about whether selling our primary state-regulated utility to an out-of-state company is good for the commonwealth,” she wrote. While she didn’t go so far as to oppose the merger, she did insist that NextEra maintain jobs in the state, comply with Virginia’s clean energy goals, and come up with cost savings for Virginians. And while the state’s utility regulators will make the ultimate decision themselves, she said, she wanted to use her leverage as the state’s highest ranking and most visible elected official “to make sure Virginians have a voice in the process.”
It’s not unheard of for a governor to try to influence utility regulators by picking members of state utility commissions — or simply by haranguing them. But as electricity bills rise to their highest level ever, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, governors in particular have started responding to pressure from voters to do something — anything — about it.
In New Jersey, Governor Mikie Sherrill won office in part by promising to freeze electricity rates — then used her influence over the utility regulators to make it happen.
In Indiana, Governor Mike Braun replaced the head of the state utility regulator after his predecessor agreed to a rate increase from the utility AES Indiana.
In North Carolina, Governor Josh Stein publicly called on the state’s dominant utility, Duke Energy, to reduce a rate increase request.
And the whole PJM Interconnection market, which includes Indiana, Virginia, and New Jersey, exists under a capacity price cap worked out in litigation initiated by Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, who has also led an effort alongside the White House to procure more generation and pressured the utility PECO to withdraw a rate case.
“Governor Shapiro is maybe the pioneer of this,” Eric Miller, the interim vice president of the states program at Evergreen Action and a former climate and energy official under former New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy, told me. “Legislators, they hear from their constituents about utility issues, whether it’s shut-offs or high prices. They go to their elected officials, and those elected officials engage with the governor’s office,” he said.
Utility regulation and ratemaking exists in a netherworld between public policy and private business. Most customers in the U.S. are served by investor-owned electric utilities, but the prices they pay are set by boards whose members are typically appointed by governors after a long, quasi-judicial process.
The process by which rates are set is wonky by design, with thousands of pages of filings and analysis explaining what costs need to be recovered at what rate paid by ratepayers. “Intervening” in a public service commission decision typically involves quietly slipping a document into a large docket, to be seen solely by utility regulators and lawyers (plus a few enterprising reporters.) To the extent the public or elected officials get to weigh in, it’s often through non-governmental advocacy groups or state officials designated as advocates for the public.
That governors are now openly taking responsibility for such a painfully bureaucratic process is “an indication of just how central utility rates are to overall energy affordability concerns that governors are hearing,” Jeff Dennis, executive director of the Electricity Customer Alliance and a former Department of Energy and Federal Energy Regulatory Commission official, told me.
With prices as high as they are, “the stakes are higher, and so the governors feel like in order to fulfill their campaign promises or their job as the top elected official in the state, that they’ve got to be directly heard,” he said. In Virginia, for example, typical bills have grown over 45% in the past five years, and by almost 12% in the past year alone.
When it comes to assigning responsibility for high electricity prices, Americans are most likely to blame their state government and their utility (and, increasingly, data centers), according to Heatmap polling.
Governors, who have a direct mandate from the public, can exert a unique countervailing force in a process that many critics argue is weighted towards utility interests. “Despite a lot of fences to prevent regulatory capture and rent seeking, it happens,” Miller said, “and having an executive weigh in directly can shake that up.”
There are risks, however, to governors getting more directly involved in the ratemaking process. One is that it could encourage short-term thinking, leading to measures that hold down prices at the expense of potentially necessary investments to maintain reliability or building out the infrastructure necessary to bring on new sources of power like wind and solar.
On top of that, “There’s certainly always a risk that the proceedings get more political,” Dennis told me. But he noted that ultimately, it’s utility commissions making the decisions, and they’re obligated to provide a record of filings and data to support their decisions.
Governors getting involved more formally could also have upsides, Dennis said, by shining a spotlight on the process that ultimately affects every resident and business in the state. “It brings a lot more spotlight to how utilities are making decisions about investments and how customers are impacted by those decisions, and I don’t think that that’s necessarily a bad thing.”
Governors also have a different set of mandates and responsibilities than the utilities do. While utilities have a mandate to provide reliable electric service — and thus spend whatever they can convince their regulators is necessary to do so — Miller argued that governors have to balance reliability and affordability for their constituents.
“The regulatory monopoly that utilities have is a political creation made by the elected officials in that jurisdiction.” Miller told me. “It is well within the authority of those same elected officials to decide to take a very hard look at whether that model is delivering the type of outcome that they want.”
A proposed change in how the agency implements an obscure Cold War-era law would impose onerous reporting requirements on renewables and pipelines.
Democrats in Congress claim that a new Trump administration proposal will have a chilling effect on the energy sector by subjecting renewables and fossil fuel pipelines alike to an obscure, rarely cited Cold War-era law requiring detailed information on foreign farmland ownership be submitted to the Agriculture Department.
In late June, the Agriculture Department released a proposal to change implementation of the Agricultural Foreign Investment Disclosure Act of 1978, which requires companies to provide information to the federal government on foreign investors in farmland holdings, acquisitions, and sales. If finalized, the new rule would expand the definition of “agricultural land” in regulation to include all renewable energy facilities and pipeline corridors by explicitly tying the term to those industries’ formal codes under the North American Industry Classification System.
Top Senate Democrats on Monday argued that taken together with expanded investor reporting thresholds and land boundary mapping requirements, this rule change “may exceed what is necessary” to deal with national security issues around farmland ownership.
One of the letter’s signatories, Pennsylvania’s John Fetterman, has previously joined the GOP in railing against foreign companies purchasing U.S. farmland as a potential national security concern. And indeed, there certainly exists a broader bipartisan anxiety around Chinese influence on essential industries, e.g. mining and critical minerals. That Fetterman is now joining climate hawks Martin Heinrich and Sheldon Whitehouse in opposing the administration’s move is a striking moment of unity, especially as Fetterman bats away beltway rumors that he’ll flip parties.
The letter demands a briefing from the Agriculture Department that includes the proposal’s “anticipated impacts on the energy, infrastructure, and agricultural sectors,” as well as the legal basis for changing its definition of “agricultural land.”
“[W]e are concerned that USDA’s proposed rule may exceed what is necessary to address those objectives, have unintended national security consequences, and may create substantial compliance burdens on agricultural producers, landowners, infrastructure operators, energy developers, and investors that could undermine efforts to address rising energy and food prices without a corresponding national security benefit,” the letter reads.
As I have previously written, the USDA is an increasingly vital organ in the Trump administration’s war on renewable energy projects, and focusing its laser beam at project development on what it calls “prime” farmland. Trump also recently tapped country music star John Rich to be his “special envoy for American landowners,” which directly led to the USDA working with people fighting solar on farmland in upstate New York.
The Trump change goes after pipelines as well as renewable energy, although logic suggests that solar development could be more vulnerable due to the sheer acreage often required for utility-scale project construction and property setbacks.
The Agriculture Department responded to my request for comment with a statement: “As Secretary [Brooke] Rollins has noted before, the regulations governing the Agricultural Foreign Investment Disclosure Act of 1978 are extremely outdated and need to be updated to better reflect today’s conditions. USDA looks forward to considering all public comments before finalizing the rule.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to include the statement from USDA.