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Maybe you’re reading this in a downpour. Perhaps you’re reading it because you have questions about the upcoming hurricane season. Or maybe you’re reading it because you’re one of the 150 million Americans enduring record-breaking temperatures in this week’s heat dome.
Whatever the reason, you have a question: Is this climate change?
There’s an old maxim — that, like many things, is often dubiously attributed to Mark Twain — that goes something like, “Climate is what you expect and weather is what you get.” Weather refers to the event itself, while climate refers to the trends (averaged over 30 years or more, usually) that might make such an event more or less likely.
Climate change is almost always an exacerbating factor in the case of something like a heat wave or a heat dome. In other situations, the picture is far more complicated and uncertain. It can take years to understand if and how climate change made an extreme weather event more likely, and while organizations like World Weather Attribution work hard to provide quick and accurate estimations, getting the science wrong can fuel climate skepticism and bolster deniers’ arguments. While it might be tempting to pin all extreme weather on climate change, the truth is, not all of it is.
Still, we do know a lot about how climate change influences the weather — and we’re always learning more. While this guide is far from the be-all and end-all of attribution and should be referred to with caveats, here is what we know about how climate change is shaping the extreme weather we see today.
“When you’re looking at heat extremes, there is almost always a climate change signal,” Clair Barnes, a research associate with World Weather Attribution, told me. “I don’t think there’s ever not been a climate change signal since I’ve been doing it in the last couple of years.”
As the planet warms, local temperatures respond everywhere. There are not as many complicating variables in this relationship as there are with something like drought. “With heat waves, it’s the same answer every time: It got hotter because it’s got hotter,” Barnes said.
The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has found that the kind of heat waves that would have occurred once in a decade before the Industrial Revolution now occur almost three times more frequently and are 1.2 degrees Celsius (or 2.2 degrees Fahrenheit) warmer. The most extreme examples — like the 2021 heat dome over the Pacific Northwest — appear to have been possible only because of warming caused by greenhouse gas emissions. Additionally, about 37% of global heat-related deaths, which amount to tens of thousands of deaths per year, are attributable to climate change.
There have, of course, always been heat waves. But it is with high confidence that scientists say they are hotter and last longer now than they would otherwise because of climate change.
Did climate change do it? It is “virtually certain” that heat waves are more frequent and hotter than they otherwise would be because of climate change.
WWA doesn’t specifically study wildfires since they aren’t technically “weather” (though once they form, they can make their own). Instead, the organization studies the conditions that make a fire more likely. In the American West, this deadly combo usually involves high pressure, extremely dry air, and some wind.
Globally, burned areas decreased between 1998 and 2015, but that isn’t because fire-weather conditions are improving — rather, regional leaders have gotten better at things like land use and fire management. Fire weather, meanwhile, is increasing and lasting longer due to climate change. In particular, hotter temperatures — especially hotter overnight temperatures — make it more difficult to combat the fires that do ignite. (Most fires in the U.S. start due to human negligence or arson, rather than by natural causes such as lightning strikes.)
This is especially the case in California, where 10 of the state’s largest fires have occurred in the past two decades, with five in 2020 alone; a 2023 National Integrated Drought Information System-funded study further found a 320% increase in burned areas in the state between 1996 and 2021 due to contributions of human-caused climate change, with that number expected to grow in the coming decades.
On average, wildfire weather season lengthened by two weeks around the globe from 1979 to 2019. The IPCC has medium confidence in the claim that fire weather has become more probable in the U.S., Europe, Australia, and parts of Europe over the past century, and high confidence that fire weather will increase regionally due to global warming in the coming years.
Did climate change do it? Climate change has almost certainly exacerbated the heat, humidity, and drought conditions necessary for wildfires to start. The actual ignition of the fire is frequently human-caused, however, and complicating variables such as local vegetation, forest management, and land use can also muddle the picture.
Tropical cyclones are large and complicated storm systems. Ocean temperatures, the El Niño-Southern Oscillation, wind shear, barometric pressure, atmospheric moisture, the shape of the continental shelf, emergency preparedness measures, and pure luck all affect how destructive a given storm might be — when or if it makes landfall. Climate change can put a thumb on the scale, but it is far from a lone actor.
Hurricanes — the strongest manifestation of a tropical cyclone — essentially work by transferring heat from the ocean into wind energy. Because the ocean absorbs excess heat from the warming atmosphere, scientists expect to see more “major” hurricanes of Category 3 or above in the coming years.
The storms aren’t just getting more powerful, though. Because of the interaction between ocean heat and energy in a hurricane, the storms also intensify more rapidly and are “more than twice as likely to strengthen from a weak Category 1 hurricane to a major Category 3 or stronger hurricane in a 24-hour period than they were between 1970 and 1990,” according to new research published last year.
WWA says it cannot attribute the intensification of any individual storm to climate change due to relatively limited modeling so far, so the organization instead looks at how climate change may have amplified associated rainfall and storm surges. Rainfall and flooding are, in fact, more deadly than high wind speeds in hurricanes, and both are understood to be increasing because of climate change. Put simply, a warmer atmosphere can hold more water, which means worse deluges. Researchers linked extreme rainfall during Hurricanes Katrina, Maria, and Irma to climate change; Hurricane Harvey, which flooded up to 50% of the properties in Harris County, Texas, when it made landfall in 2017, had a rainfall total 15% to 38% greater than it would have been in a pre-industrial world, researchers found. Additionally, rising sea levels caused by climate change will worsen coastal flooding during such events.
However, “trends indicate no significant change in the frequency of tropical cyclones globally,” according to the IPCC. That is, there aren’t more hurricanes; the ones that form are just more likely to become major hurricanes. Scientists understand far less about what climate change means for the smaller Category 1 or 2 storms, or if it will impact the diameter of the storms that do form.
Did climate change do it? The greenhouse effect is making the atmosphere warmer, and in a warmer climate, we’d expect to see more major hurricanes of Category 3 and above. Evidence also points to hurricanes intensifying much more rapidly in today’s climate than in the past. Climate does not seem to play a role in the overall number of storms, though, and other critical factors like the path of a storm and the emergency preparedness of a given community have a significant impact on the potential loss of life but aren’t linked to a warmer atmosphere. Hurricanes are complicated events and there is still much more research to be done in understanding how exactly they’re impacted by climate change.
In the winter, your skin might feel dry, and your lips might chap; in the summer, many parts of the country feel sticky and swampy. This is simple, observable physics: Cold air holds less moisture, and warm air holds more. The “Clausius-Clapeyron” relation, as it is known, tells us that in 1 degree C warmer air, there is 7% more moisture. All that moisture has to go somewhere, so quite literally, when it rains, it pours. (That is, when and where it rains: WWA notes that “an attribution study in northern Europe found that human influence has so far had little effect on the atmospheric circulation that caused a severe rainfall event.”)
Like heat, the relationship between warm air and rainfall is well understood, which is why the IPCC is highly confident in the attributable influence of climate change on extreme rain. While it may seem confusing that both droughts and intense rainfall are symptoms of climate change, the warming atmosphere seems to increase precipitation variability, making events on the extreme margins more likely and more frequent.
Increased precipitation can have counterintuitive results, though. Rain occurring over fewer overall days due to bursts of extreme rainfall, for example, can actually worsen droughts. And while it might seem like more water in the atmosphere would mean snowier winters, that’s only true in certain places. Because it’s also warmer, snowfall is declining globally while winters are getting wetter — and as a result, probably more miserable.
But what does “more rain” really mean? Rain on its own isn’t necessarily bad, but when it overwhelms urban infrastructure or threatens roads and houses, it can quickly become deadly. Flooding, of course, is often the result of extreme rain, but “the signal in the rainfall is not necessarily correlated to the magnitude of the floods because there are other factors that turn rain into a flood,” Barnes, the research associate with WWA, told me, citing variables such as land use, water management, urban drainage, and other physical elements of a landscape.
Landslides, likewise, are caused by everything from volcanic eruptions to human construction, but rain is often a factor (climate-linked phenomena like wildfires and thawing permafrost also contribute to landslides). The IPCC writes with “high confidence” that landslides, along with floods and water availability, “have the potential to lead to severe consequences for people, infrastructure, and the economy in most mountain regions.”
Did climate change do it? More extreme rainfall is consistent with our understanding of climate change’s effects. Many other local, physical factors can compound or mitigate disasters like floods and mudslides, however.
When I spoke with Barnes, of WWA, she told me, “It’s really easy to define a heat wave. You just go, ‘It was hot.’” Droughts, not so much. For one thing, you have to define the time span you’re looking at. There are also different kinds of drought: meteorological, when there hasn’t been enough rain; hydrological, when rivers are low possibly because something else is diverting water from the natural cycle; and agricultural, when there is not enough water specifically for crops. Like flooding, many different infrastructural and physical factors go into exacerbating or even creating various kinds of droughts.
Drought as we mean it here, though, is a question of soil moisture, Barnes told me. “That’s really hard to get data on,” she said, “and we don’t necessarily understand the feedback mechanisms affecting that as well as we understand heat waves.” As recently as 2013, the IPCC had only low confidence that trends in drought could be attributed to climate change.
We have a better understanding of how drought and climate change interact now, including how higher temperatures drive evaporation and cut into snowpack, leading to less meltwater in rivers. The IPCC’s most recent report concluded that “even relatively small incremental increases in global warming (+0.5C) cause a worsening of droughts in some regions.” The IPCC also has high confidence that “more regions are affected by increases in agricultural and ecological droughts with increasing global warming.”
WWA’s attribution studies have, however, found examples of droughts that have no connection to climate change. The organization flags that it has the highest confidence in the climate affecting droughts in the Mediterranean, southern Africa, central and eastern Asia, southern Australia, and western North America and lower confidence in central and west Africa, western and central Europe, northeast South America, and New Zealand.
Did climate change do it? Maybe. Some droughts have a strong climate signal — California’s, for example. Still, researchers remain cautious about attribution for these complicated events due in part to their significant regional variability.
Tornadoes are extremely difficult to study. Compared to droughts, which can last years, tornadoes occupy a teeny tiny area and last for just a blip in time. They “wouldn’t even register” on the models WWA uses for its attribution studies, Barnes said. “It would probably look like a slightly raised average wind speed.” The IPCC, for its part, has only “low confidence” in a connection between climate change and “severe convective storms” like tornadoes, in part due to the “short length of high-quality data records.”
But we are learning more every day. This spring, researchers posited that Tornado Alley is moving east and “away from the warm season, especially the summer, and toward the cold season.” Though it’s not entirely clear why this is happening, one theory is that it relates to how climate change is affecting regional seasonality: winters and nights are becoming warmer in certain areas, and thus more conducive to tornado formation, while others are becoming too hot for storms to form during the normal season.
Did climate change do it? Researchers aren’t entirely sure but there doesn’t appear to be a correlation between tornado formation and climate change. Still, warmer temperatures potentially make certain areas more or less prone to tornadoes than they were in the past.
We say “it was a dark and stormy night” because “it was a severe convective storm” doesn’t have the same ring. But an SCS — which forms when warm, moist air rises into colder air — is the most common and most damaging weather phenomenon in the United States. You probably just call it a thunderstorm.
Severe convective storms cause many localized events that we think of as “weather,” including heavy rainfall, high winds, tornadoes, hail, thunder, and lightning. Because heat and moisture are necessary ingredients for these kinds of storms, and because the atmosphere is getting both warmer and wetter, climate models “consistently” and confidently predict an “increase in the frequency of severe thunderstorms,” the IPCC notes — but, “there is low confidence in the details of the projected increase.” Trends remain poorly studied and highly regionally dependent; in the United States, for example, there is still no evidence of a “significant increase in convective storms, and hail and severe thunderstorms.” Still, other research suggests that for every 1.8 degree F of warming, the conditions favorable to severe convective storms will increase in frequency by up to 20%.
Hail forms during severe convective storms when the hot, moist air rises to a region of the atmosphere where it is cold enough to freeze. Like thunderstorms more generally, data is fairly limited on hail, making it difficult to study long-term trends (most climate models also do not look directly at hail, studying convective storms more broadly instead). However, it’s been hypothesized that climate change could create larger and more destructive hail in the future; if thunderstorm updrafts grow stronger, as projected, then they could hold hail at freezing high altitudes for longer, allowing individual hailstones to grow larger before falling back to Earth. One study even suggested that with continued warming, there could be a 145% increase in “significant severe hail” measuring at least 2 inches in diameter — that is, a little smaller than a tennis ball.
Did climate change do it? Everything we know about thunderstorms suggests that a warmer, wetter atmosphere will mean severe convection storms become both more frequent and more intense. But there is still very little available data to track the long-term trends, so attributing any one storm to climate change would be nearly impossible.
Just as virtually all heat waves worldwide are worsened by climate change, “nearly every instance of extreme cold across the world has decreased in likelihood,” according to the WWA. While the organization has run attribution studies on “a few” heavy snowfall events, it has either found no link to climate change or has been unable to state a conclusion confidently. On the other hand, the loss of snow cover, permafrost, Arctic sea ice, and glaciers has a high-confidence link to human-caused climate change in the IPCC report.
Just because climate change makes extreme cold and snowstorms less likely does not mean they won’t happen. Research published in Nature earlier this year suggests climate change could bring more snow to certain places, as extremely cold parts of the world warm to snow-friendly temperatures, and increased precipitation from a warmer atmosphere results in more flurries. Parts of Siberia and the northern Great Plains are even experiencing a deepening snowpack.
Did climate change do it? Probably not — though there are notable exceptions.
An earthquake is usually caused by the release of energy when two tectonic plates suddenly slip past each other (though they can also be caused by fossil fuel extraction). But before you dismiss earthquakes as having no connection to climate change, there is one place where there could be a link: water.
As Emily Pontecorvo wrote for Heatmap this spring, “Changes in surface water, whether because of heavy rain, snow, or drought, could either increase or relieve stress on geologic faults, causing them to shift.” Admittedly, even if there is a relationship between climate change, water, and earthquakes, it appears to be small — so small that humans probably can’t feel any resulting quakes.
Did climate change do it? It’s highly unlikely.
Earlier this year, extreme turbulence on a Singapore-bound flight from London killed one person and injured at least 20 others. While such events remain rare — the U.S. National Transportation Safety Board recorded just 101 serious injuries caused by turbulence on millions of flights between 2013 and 2022 — extreme turbulence appears to be increasing, potentially because of climate change.
According to one study, severe turbulence is up 55% between 1979 and 2020, seemingly due to an increase in wind shear at high altitudes caused by the temperature contrast between the equator and the North Pole. (This relationship is a little bit complicated, but essentially, at higher altitudes, the temperature over the pole has been declining due to rapid Arctic temperature changes even as it’s increased at the equator; lower in the troposphere, the opposite is happening). Other studies have similarly shown that doubling the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere could increase moderate-to-severe turbulence by as much as 127%.
Data, however, is limited and fairly subjective, leading to some skepticism in the scientific community and inaccurate dismissals by climate-change deniers. As with many complex weather phenomena, our understanding of how climate change interacts with turbulence will likely grow in the coming years as the field of research develops.
Did climate change do it? Potentially in some cases, but there is still much to learn about the connection between the two.
Desertification differs from drought in that it describes a decline in soil fertility, water, and plant life to the point of total “land degradation.” (In contrast, land can become productive again after a drought.) Like other compound disasters, desertification results from natural processes, climatic conditions, and land management practices such as grazing and deforestation.
According to the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services, land degradation is “almost always” the result of these “multiple interacting causes,” and the warming climate certainly isn’t helping. Heat stress can kill off vegetation, making landscapes more prone to desertification, as well as drive aridification.
In the resulting drylands — which comprise about 46% of global land area — you can expect dust storms (also known as haboobs), and sand storms resulting from the wind kicking up loose soils. While there have always been sand storms, one study suggests that climate change is one of the critical drivers of global annual dust emissions increasing by 25% between the late 19th century and today.
However, “climate change impacts on dust and sand storm activity remain a critical gap,” writes the IPCC, and more research is desperately needed to address this. By the UN’s estimate, dust storms were associated with the deaths of 402,000 people in 2005. As many as 951 million people, mainly in South Asia, Central Asia, West Africa, and East Asia, could be vulnerable to the impacts of desertification if climate change continues.
Did climate change do it? It was potentially a factor, but we have lots more to learn.
Are locust swarms technically “weather”? Not really. But so long as we’re on the topic of weather events of Biblical proportions, locust swarms might as well be addressed, too.
And the answer may surprise you: Climate appears to be a driver of locust swarms, which threaten food security and exacerbate famines throughout Africa, the Middle East, and South Asia. Locusts prefer “arid areas punched by extreme rainfall,” according to one study that looked at the connection between swarms and climate change, and while much of that pattern is fixed in the natural El Niño–Southern Oscillation cycle, a warming climate will also “lead to widespread increases in locust outbreaks with emerging hotspots in west central Asia.” In particular, the research found that in a low-emissions scenario, locust habitat could increase by 5%, while in a high-emissions scenario, it could increase by 13% to 25% between 2065 and 2100.
Did climate change do it? It’d likely be tricky to attribute any one locust swarm to climate change, but as with many other natural phenomena, climate likely plays a compounding factor.
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A new dashboard from the Sustainable AI Group, founded by artificial intelligence alums, estimates the relative energy intensity of proprietary tools.
The rise of artificial intelligence is driving an historic surge in electricity demand that’s boosting fossil fuel use and threatening climate progress. All this electricity doesn’t power AI in some generalized, always-on way, though. Data centers’ energy consumption is a function of the millions of individual queries users submit to AI programs such as Claude and ChatGPT.
When it comes to how efficiently models process those queries and generate responses, AI models are not interchangeable. Some are more like gas guzzlers, others more like Priuses. When a user engages an AI chatbot or AI agent, however, there’s essentially no way for them to know which kind of vehicle they are stepping into. They may know which company built it, and even the precise model name and number, but no AI company has published information about how much energy one model uses compared to another.
In the absence of corporate disclosure from the big three proprietary AI developers — Anthropic, OpenAI, and Google — researchers with the Sustainable AI Group, a research and advisory company, developed a backdoor method to estimate and compare the amount of energy these developers’ models consume. They published their findings on Tuesday in an interactive dashboard that ranks AI programs by energy intensity.
“We think this is an important next step to get some science-based information out there to help folks start making better decisions,” Boris Gamazaychikov, the CEO of the Sustainable AI Group, told me. “We also hope that if the model providers think that this is really wrong, that they can come out and prove it with some actual data.”
In general, the researchers found that larger, higher-capability models, such as Anthropic’s Opus and OpenAI’s Sol, used nearly four times as much energy on average as smaller, nimbler models from those companies, Haiku and Terra. Newer iterations of each model also weren’t necessarily more efficient than their predecessors.
While the group has yet to evaluate the latest models that hit the market during the research period, so far the researchers found that for the same task, the least efficient models can consume more than 30 times the energy of the most efficient models. They also found a significant difference between “chat” sessions, where a user asks an AI chatbot a question, and “agentic” sessions,” where a user asks the AI to perform a series of tasks. A typical agentic session used 27 times more energy, on average, than a typical chat session conducted using the same AI model.
The Sustainable AI Group was founded by Sasha Luccioni, the former AI and climate lead at the open source AI platform Hugging Face, and Gamazaychikov, who previously led AI sustainability at Salesforce. In their earlier roles, the two collaborated on a project called AI Energy Score, which is similar in spirit to the Environmental Protection Agency’s EnergyStar program for home appliances. They developed a method to directly measure the energy efficiency of “open-weight” AI models, or those that fully disclose their inner workings, and published the results in a public leaderboard.
Luccioni and Gamazaychikov founded the Sustainable AI Group because they wanted to give AI users, particularly large corporate users, the tools to understand the relative emissions impacts of proprietary AI models. Gamazaychikov told me that Salesforce had tried to get energy-use data from its AI providers for years to no avail.
Their first hire was Nidhal Jegham, a graduate student at the University of Rhode Island who published a landmark paper last year called “How Hungry is AI?” Jegham and his co-authors developed a method to estimate the energy, water, and carbon effects of proprietary models at the level of a single prompt or query. The paper was accepted by the journal Communications of the Association for Computing Machinery, and the peer-reviewed version will come out in January.
The approach the Sustainable AI Group developed builds on both Jegham’s paper and the AI Energy Score project. The work began with testing open-weight models to see how they perform in realistic deployment configurations and directly measuring their energy consumption. From there the researchers identified mathematical relationships between various open models’ energy use and other measurable statistics, such as their size.
The next step was to take those statistical relationships from the open-weight models and apply them to similarly-sized proprietary models. The problem is, no one knows how “big” proprietary models are. The size of an AI model usually refers to the number of parameters it contains, i.e. the quantity of numerical representations of what the model has learned that it uses to produce a response.
“When we have a closed model, we don't have the model size. We don't have the deployment conditions. We don't have anything, so we need to find things we can observe from this closed model that can reflect its size,” Jegham explained to me. One key discovery, he said, was that “knowledge retention,” or how well the model can remember factual information, is a strong predictor of model size. A company called Artificial Analysis tests models for knowledge retention, so the researchers compared those results to model size for open models and applied the same statistical relationship to estimate the size of closed models.
This is a simplified explanation — there were many other variables and data points that went into the Sustainable AI Group’s estimates. The researchers also had to develop a separate methodology to evaluate Google’s models, since those mostly run on the company’s proprietary “tensor processing units,” rather than the Nvidia chips the researchers’ initial measurements were based on.
The group’s main findings are based on a per-token estimate of each model’s energy use, i.e. the energy required to process the smallest units of data that an AI deals with. Every time you type a question into a chatbot, the model breaks down the words into smaller bits — i.e. tokens — each just a few characters long, usually. The model also first formulates its response in tokens before translating it to text, an image, or whatever you’re requesting; input tokens are less energy-intensive than the tokens the models spit out. The Sustainable AI Group reports each of its per-token estimates as a range to reflect uncertainty.
For now, the firm is keeping its per-token estimates behind a paywall, but it has already started to use them to advise corporate clients in estimating their AI-related emissions, Gamazaychikov said. For example, he mentioned working with Etsy to help the online retailer develop a “model router,” essentially some software that routes a given query to the most appropriate model for the task, taking into account carbon and cost. It’s also partnering with the corporate emissions accounting platform Watershed to explore how to integrate its model-specific energy numbers into Watershed’s system.
Instead of displaying per-token energy use, the Sustainable AI Group’s public dashboard ranks models’ energy intensity per “typical” session, whether chat or agentic. It defines a typical chat session as “a short back-and-forth” with “a question, an answer, and a follow-up or two to refine or clarify it,” whereas a typical agentic session is “an hour or two of the assistant reading files, making changes and checking its own work across a project.” There are also results for a “heavier” or “lighter” session — generally tasks that take more or less time or require greater or fewer back-and-forths with the AI.
The least efficient AI model for both a typical chat and agentic session, per the dashboard, is Anthropic’s Claude Fable 5. A typical agentic session uses 76 watt-hours, according to the Sustainable AI Group’s estimate, or about the amount of electricity it would take to charge four smartphones, per Department of Energy estimates. The most efficient model for a typical chat session was Claude Haiku 4.5, while the most efficient model for a typical agentic session was Open AI’s GPT-5 nano.
Jegham said the point of the dashboard is not to villainize particular companies or models or to argue that more efficient models are superior. He acknowledged that a more complex task may require a larger model, and a larger model is likely going to be more energy intensive than a smaller one.
The ranking is also flawed in that it assumes every model delivers responses with the same amount of verbosity. In reality, some models may use more words, and therefore more tokens, to answer the same question. Jegham gave the example of Anthropic’s Sonnet and Opus models: Sonnet is less energy intensive per token, but it typically requires more tokens for the same task, so sometimes it’s more energy intensive than Opus. The dashboard doesn’t reflect these differences.
While energy intensity is the core of the dashboard’s function, it also includes estimates of each model’s carbon emissions per session. That calculation opens up many more cans of worms, since actual emissions depend on where in the country the hardware that’s processing the AI session is located and what’s powering it. There’s no easy way to know which data center is processing a given AI request. Instead, the dashboard offers users the option to toggle between different emissions intensities to reflect different scenarios — a data center powered by behind-the-meter natural gas plants, for example, versus one located on a relatively clean grid.
A typical agentic session with Claude Fable 5 powered by a behind-the-meter gas plant emits roughly 52 grams of CO2, it says, while a heavy session emits just over 200 grams — equivalent to driving about half a mile in a gasoline-powered vehicle.
I reached out to OpenAI and Anthropic to ask why they don’t publish energy intensity data, whether there are barriers to doing so, and whether they have plans to do so in the future. A spokesperson from OpenAI told me the company relies “on infrastructure partners to operate the data centers that run our models, so we don’t directly collect the underlying energy data. That’s an important consideration in how we assess and provide this information.” Anthropic declined to comment.
Google, on the other hand, has published an energy use estimate for “the median Gemini Apps text prompt in May 2025,” but has not provided an update for subsequent model versions. In response to my request for comment, the company reiterated statements from Cooper Elsworth, a senior technical manager for AI energy, which Google shared with me for a previous story on Watershed’s efforts to calculate AI-related emissions. He said there is no industry consensus for how to measure and disclose the environmental footprint of frontier AI models. He also echoed OpenAI’s comments, noting that gathering accurate energy use data requires “highly advanced measurement infrastructure,” which not all AI providers have access to.
“We believe there is immense value in aligning the industry on comparable metrics to fairly compare and incentivize action,” he said.
Current conditions: Last weekend’s nor’easter caused up to $13 billion in damages across the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast regions of the United States • Hurricane Nolo shut down a major highway on Hawaii’s Big Island • A heat dome forming over eastern Africa is driving temperatures in Juba, the impoverished capital of South Sudan, past 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
At last, right after hopes dimmed, we have a deal. Senate negotiators reached a bipartisan agreement on a package of federal permitting reforms, locking in what Politico described as “the contours of long-sought legislation to speed up approvals for new energy projects in the U.S.” Democratic negotiators Senators Martin Heinrich of New Mexico and Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island told the news outlet they were withholding endorsements of a final deal as “the last five yards” of the agreement are hammered out. Whitehouse cautioned that he needed “more clarity from the Trump administration” on what their easing of the blockade on wind and solar approvals would mean. Neither Democrats nor Republicans released text of the bill, which both parties said should come out this week.
The Nuclear Regulatory Commission is set to issue only its second construction permit for a novel type of nuclear reactor in decades. At 11 a.m. EDT, the agency is scheduled to give the Tennessee Valley Authority the go ahead to begin building what could be the nation’s first commercial small modular reactor, a 300-megawatt unit at the federally-owned utility’s Clinch River site. The project is one of two the Department of Energy is financing to support deployment of third-generation SMRs, a technology based on existing large-scale reactors but shrunken down to force developers to buy more and help the industry bring down the cost of atomic power through repeatedly building the same design. (The second one is Holtec’s expansion of the Palisades nuclear plant in Michigan.) The permit comes six months after the NRC gave TerraPower, the Bill Gates-backed fourth-generation nuclear developer, the green light to start constructing its liquid sodium-cooled reactor at the site of an old coal plant in Kemmerer, Wyoming. The unit planned at Clinch River is a BWRX-300, a boiling water reactor from GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy that borrows from the technology behind roughly a third of the American nuclear fleet. Boiling water reactors, pioneered by General Electric in the mid-20th century, traditionally represented a competitor to the more dominant pressurized water reactor invented by Westinghouse. By the time Clinch River comes online, North America may already have its first BWRX-300 in operation in Canada, where Ontario Power Generation is building the first reactor at its Darlington plant. TVA has said it plans to bring its debut BWRX-300 online by the end of 2033 at the latest. Yet, despite the forthcoming permit, no start date for construction has been announced.
The NRC, meanwhile, has sought to advance plans to restart the functional reactor at Constellation Energy’s Christopher Crane Clean Energy Center, the facility formerly known as Three Mile Island. Last week, the agency issued an environmental assessment finding no significant impact from plans to begin generating electricity at the plant again. While America’s attempt at restarting a permanently shuttered reactor for the first time are largely going according to plan, regulators are investigating what the Detroit Free-Press described as a “mishap” in the handling of fuel for Holtec’s Palisades nuclear plant in Michigan, which could come online in a matter of weeks. The company said nuclear fuel rods “tipped” during installation, halting the refueling process and forcing plant operators to return to the NRC for approval to retrieve the assembly from within the reactor vessel.
Arevia Power marketed itself as a renewable energy powerhouse led by solar industry veterans. Now, my colleague Jael Holzman reported yesterday, the company is making data centers and gas turbines central to its business. “Arevia is an energy company that delivers reliable and affordable electricity to the communities and utilities we serve,” Ricardo Graf, the company’s chief development officer, told her via email, acknowledging that “in some cases, that energy may be solar; in others, it may be gas.” He added that “yes, we also develop data center projects, but ones with accompanying power solutions to ensure ratepayers are not impacted by the data center’s energy needs.”
The shift in focus comes right as American solar offers a major new business opportunity. Solar panels are aging, and newer technologies are as much as 70% more efficient than those designed and built two decades ago. “All across the United States, solar panels are withering on the vine. Equipment installed 10 to 15 years ago is still capturing sunlight and pumping out electricity, but significantly less of it than when the cells were new,” my colleague Emily Pontecorvo wrote yesterday about a new report examining the potential to swap out the country’s existing panels for new ones. “This is not a story about decline, however, but about growth. America’s aging solar farms represent an opportunity to expand clean energy capacity without using more land — and potentially without having to wait years for new projects to get through the grid’s interconnection queue.”
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The TVA isn’t the only government-owned utility making progress on clean power plants. The New York Power Authority — the state electrical company that then-Governor Franklin Delano Roosevelt established in the 1930s and later used as a model for New Deal investments such as the TVA — said Monday that it will take a 51% stake in a 240-megawatt solar plant in the state’s rural northern reaches, according to the Watertown Daily Times. The Rich Road solar farm in Canton, near the Canadian border, will follow a model promoted by progressive legislators with a bill meant to encourage the state to finance and own renewable projects to speed up decarbonization of the grid. Governor Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, has used that authority to support her plans to build at least 1 gigawatt of new nuclear power through NYPA. (That effort, as I told you yesterday, has drawn some blowback from left-wing Democrats who oppose nuclear energy.) EDF Power Solutions North America, a subsidiary of the French electrical giant, will own the other 49% share of the project, which is set to begin construction next year. Once completed, the facility is expected to provide credits to low-income New Yorkers to lower bills.

When I used to think about the Rhine River, the first thing that came to mind was a song off my favorite album from high school. Written and performed by Beirut, the stage name of an American guy who galavanted around Europe making folksy songs that sounded straight out of an American teenager’s romantic notion of an Old World beer hall, the song was called “Rhineland.” Over mournful horns and a plunky mandolin, the song repeats a refrain: “Life, life was all right on the Rhine,” bringing to mind some kind of bucolic interwar existence in an ill-fated era of European history. Two decades later, I can’t tell which has changed more, me or the place I was imagining. The correct answer is probably “both,” but the clearest answer today is the latter. Levels at a key gauge of the mostly German waterway dropped to 1.2 inches below the threshold ship operators use to determine how much cargo their vessel can safely carry down the river without risking damage or running aground, Bloomberg reported. Despite a slight recovery on Monday, the cost of shipping diesel from Rotterdam to Karlsruhe hit a record €260 per ton (equal to just under $296), after more than doubling this month amid the aftershocks of the summer’s record heat waves and droughts.
The latest trouble comes as the Trump administration weighs the merits of a ban on diesel exports. At Heatmap’s Climate Week event last Wednesday, Secretary of Energy Chris Wright ruled out such a step. But Trump said he was “very seriously” considering the step, despite warnings from Goldman Sachs that doing so would raise prices in Europe.
TotalEnergies may be taking up President Donald Trump on his legally sketchy offer of nearly $1 billion to abandon its offshore wind ambitions in the U.S. But the French energy giant — the second-largest European oil company after Shell — sees the energy shock brought on by the U.S. war against Iran as a boon to that very business. CEO Patrick Pouyanne said “high oil prices” are “accelerating electrification,” according to a snippet shared on X by Bloomberg columnist Javier Blas. “We have seen a huge surge in EV sales,” he added, noting that sales are booming well beyond China, in India, Latin America, and Europe. Increased profits from higher crude prices spurred the company to start buying back roughly $5 billion in shares over the next two quarters.
By neutering the Corporate Average Fuel Economy standards, the Trump administration cements the country’s dependence on oil and liquid fuels.
This is Heatmap Daily, a weekday news digest written by our executive editor.
President Trump’s big fuel efficiency rollback is here. This afternoon, the Department of Transportation significantly weakened the Corporate Average Fuel Economy standards, the federal government’s rules that encourage new cars and trucks to get gradually more fuel-efficient over time. Instead of mandating that new cars and trucks hit a target of more than 50 miles per gallon, as the old Biden-era rules had required, new vehicles sold in the U.S. will now need to average only 34.9 miles per gallon.
That target is below the level that most automakers have already achieved in their vehicle fleet. (For reasons too obscure to recount here, the regulatory standard of 34 miles per gallon aligns to real-world gas mileage in the mid-to-high 20s — something my 15-year-old hatchback manages to achieve without much straining.) The new rules also retroactively rewrite the standard back to 2022, meaning that automakers whose fleets once broke the law may now be in the clear.
These changes, in other words, render the fuel economy law, first enacted in 1975, is now moot. But Republicans in Congress had arguably already achieved this last year, when they zeroed out all of the law’s fines for automakers as part of the president’s tax and spending bill. These two changes, taken together, mean that the Trump administration has successfully neutered the U.S. fuel efficiency rules.
We are digging into the rule-making here at Heatmap, and I hope to have more on the documents in the days to come. But one of the lasting ironies of President Trump’s approach to fuel efficiency will be that his own presidency demonstrates its strategic inadequacy.
The Corporate Average Fuel Economy law, after all, did not originate as an environmental policy — climate change had scarcely emerged as a pressing issue in the mid-1970s — but as a national security and economic sovereignty measure. In the aftermath of the oil embargo, American politicians realized that the U.S. economy was far too dependent on oil for its long-term good. This set off a scramble to find new energy sources, prompting a dash back to coal in the electricity sector and a surge in federal R&D spending on alternative energy. (This funding boost eventually created the modern solar, wind, battery, and fracking industries.)
It also led to a successful push to regulate gas mileage. Crucially, this effort did not limit emissions from any one type of vehicle, as the Environmental Protection Administration’s toxic air pollution rules aim to do. Rather, it targeted the average fuel efficiency of cars and light-duty trucks sold in the United States in each model-year. The point was not to regulate any one type of vehicle out of existence, but to increase the country’s overall fuel efficiency over time.
That decades-long effort was never perfect. It created in American statute, for instance, a lasting distinction between cars and trucks, which has bedeviled regulators as SUVs have taken up a larger portion of the new vehicle fleet. But it has also inarguably succeeded: The United States ekes far more value out of every barrel of oil today than it did half a century ago.
Yet the time is ripe to keep making progress. President Trump’s administration has illustrated the persistence of our oil dependence — and the political and strategic problems that it can still engender. Even though the United States has since become the world’s largest producer of oil, the linked and globalized nature of fuel markets means that a supply shock anywhere leads to price hikes everywhere. When an oil crisis arrives — even a largely self-inflicted one, as in the case of the Iran war — then the price of moving things and people rises, the economy suffers, and the president’s popularity falls. Countries can protect themselves from these shocks on a short-term basis by stockpiling oil (as the United States, in fact, does), but they can avoid them only by switching to a far more efficient and electrified transportation system.
President Trump, in other words, may regret the current oil and refining crisis. But by gutting the fuel economy standards — and waging war on electric vehicle incentives more broadly — he is increasing the likelihood that America will face many more crises like it in future years. Consider it his particular gift to his successors.