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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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New polling by Heatmap and Embold Research shows where one of climate advocates’ favorite arguments for renewables is falling short.
It’s the million-dollar question of clean energy advocacy: How do you persuade climate change skeptics to love renewables?
For years, the clean energy industry has treated the fact that renewables are the cheapest form of new electricity as its messaging trump card. This argument has the advantage of being true. Yes, there is nuance, room for debate, and always the possibility that things could change dramatically in the future. But this summer, the investment bank Lazard reconfirmed what the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory and the International Renewable Energy Agency — and plenty of other independent analyses — had found before it: that wind and solar energy are, on the whole, cheaper than fossil fuels.
And yet according to new polling and focus group conversations conducted by Heatmap News and Embold Research, the affordability argument barely moves the needle for the segment of the American public that most needs convincing. More than two-thirds (78%) of voters who are “doubtful” or “dismissive” of climate change — a population segment described by the Yale Program on Climate Communications and that we have labeled as “skeptics” — told us they believe that advocates for wind and solar energy exaggerate how cheap the sources have become (a mere 17% disagreed).
Even for those in the middle who are “persuadable” on climate change (as opposed to the “persuadeds,” who describe themselves as “alarmed” about it), an affordability argument doesn’t land cleanly — 62% believed the claims are exaggerated compared to 24%. In fact, a majority of all voters — 55% — told us that wind and solar are only cost-competitive with oil and gas because of subsidies, even as 75% acknowledge that oil and gas companies get government help lowering costs, too.
Inflation Reduction Act postmortems have a tendency to hand-wring about the Biden administration and its proxies’ lack of success pitching the affordability angle to the American public. Our polling backed up some of this. The pervasive conviction seems to be that the economic upsides of renewable energy aren’t real: 57% of all voters (and 78% of the subset of climate change skeptics) said clean energy advocates exaggerate how cheap wind and solar have become.
But as clean energy advocates look ahead to what to try the next time, our polling offers a cautionary note: The messenger, not just the message, needs a tweak. Independent scientists and researchers were the only group trusted by a majority of voters (63%), and even then, skeptics remained difficult to break through with, as less than a third putting their trust in any messenger at all.
If there’s a bright spot in our polling, it’s that attacks on clean energy have also apparently failed to gain traction. When we asked voters in a separate poll what they think is driving their bills higher, clean energy was among the least identified factors. Just 31% of voters blamed the renewable energy industry, compared with 58% who picked out new data center construction, 55% for the oil and gas industry, 52% for the aging electrical grid, and 48% for rising electricity demand. Our polling appears to describe, then, an electorate that doesn’t blame clean energy for raising electricity bills, but also doesn’t buy the messaging that it could help bring them down.
Breaking through with skeptics and persuadables is obviously the key for turning public opinion in favor of clean energy. In pursuit of that goal, Embold conducted interviews with voters to better understand where the potential openings might be for clean energy messaging to break through — and to identify the kind of language that might hamper that goal. But even after synthesizing the findings and crafting a political message designed to appeal to skeptics’ concerns — one that highlighted the falling cost of renewable electricity alongside arguments about energy security and job creation — a mere 7% of skeptics found it “extremely believable.” “Without my tax dollars, [renewables are] too expensive,” one Trump voter told us. “It will all be in a landfill in 20 years!” (Note that “skeptics” isn’t a political designation, although 89% of them told us they voted for President Trump in the last election.)
Heatmap’s polling offered a more pessimistic view of the electorate compared to comparable polling by other groups, which have found that messages about bringing down electricity bills via increasing clean energy resonate across the broad political spectrum. “We obviously do a fair amount of phone polling, and we’ve been surprised how positive people have been on clean energy and how much they see it as a central part of the solution to the energy affordability crisis that everybody is feeling,” Jesse Lee, a senior advisor at the advocacy and communications organization Climate Power, told me. (Climate Power’s poll notably looks at the whole electorate — skeptics, persuadables, and persuadeds alike — rather than segmenting their findings for more specific messaging purposes.) “But,” he agreed, “certainly there are holdouts.”
Just 20% of the skeptics Embold surveyed, for instance, told us that seeing a comparison of what families saved on their electricity bills after installing rooftop solar would improve their opinion of the technology’s affordability — and 54% said nothing could convince them that solar was affordable. A full 75% of skeptics also agreed with the statement that clean energy technologies such as rooftop solar, electric heat pumps, and electric vehicles have a high enough upfront cost that the savings over time wouldn’t be “worth it.” When asked about utility-scale generation, skeptics viewed nuclear, coal, and natural gas as the least expensive options, with wind being the most expensive, followed by solar.
I asked Lee at Climate Power if he thinks it’s worth trying to reach these entrenched climate skeptics, who make up 22% of the electorate according to our polling. “To the extent that there are limited resources, that’s probably not where you spend all your time,” he said. “You shoot for people that are at least a little bit open to it — but who might be the neighbors of [the skeptics],” he said.
“If that neighbor gets solar panels on their roof, and suddenly they’re walking around the neighborhood telling people their electricity bill was $0 last month, that’s going to have a lot more effect on a person who’s entrenched than hearing a political message from a political group,” Lee went on.
Among people who said they don’t have or can’t afford solar, just 28% told us that “seeing data showing how much money families save on their electricity bills” with solar would help convince them on its affordability. That beat out tax credits (24%), lower upfront costs (23%), financing options (19%) — and yes, “hearing about a neighbor or friend who saved money after getting solar,” which only 12% of people said might change their minds. And though only 20% of skeptics said being shown bill data would change their opinion, bill data was also the only messaging approach that ranked at or near the top of all groups alike.
Unsurprisingly, the “persuadables” group turned out to be more responsive on the question of whether clean energy is affordable. More than a quarter (27%) were receptive to bill savings data, and 60% said they trusted scientists as messengers. But crafting that message is still an uphill battle with the demographic: When Embold tailored a statement intended to move the group, fewer than three in 10 actually found it convincing.
Winning on messaging about clean energy affordability, then, is far more complicated than simply laying out facts and comparisons of renewables in a speech or advertisement. Being asked the question in a poll is not the same as a real-world test case, of course, but, but the wrong messenger risks alienating the people who most need to be convinced, our research shows. Proof needs to be local and tailored — perhaps an impossible ask of a national or even state-level general campaign.
Cost, as a message, is still a winner, in other words. But the window for communicating on it is far narrower than many advocates likely realize. As one 2024 third-party voter told us after reading Embold’s three tailored messages on clean energy, “I don’t really like any of them. They all seem to just be telling me the ‘truth,’ but I don’t know the truth without evidence.”
This is the first in a series of Heatmap reports on how U.S. voters view climate, clean energy, and sustainability issues. If you'd like to receive our latest updates, downloadable reports, and invitations for special briefings, please fill out this form.
On solar manufacturing, New England gas, and Pacific Northwest geothermal
Current conditions: The Pacific just can’t catch a break this hurricane season as forecasters warn that a new tropical development called Invest 96E could form in the next two days off Baja California, right behind Hurricane Lowell • In Indonesia, the wildfires blazing through the peatlands and forests of Borneo and Sumatra are now emitting by far the most carbon dioxide of any blazes in the world • A late-summer heat wave is sending temperatures along the California coastline beyond 100 degrees Fahrenheit this week.
When Alphabet inked its first nuclear deal in 2024, the Google parent company opted to back a next-generation, fluoride salt-cooled reactor startup called Kairos Power. Six months later, the tech behemoth contracted Elementl Power, a nuclear project developer that works with all kinds of reactors, to scout locations for deploying novel atomic technologies. Last October, Google broadened its approach to focus on large-scale reactors that either already existed or were under development. The company eyed financing the construction of the abandoned Westinghouse AP1000s planned for the V.C. Summer plant in South Carolina before the project went under nearly a decade ago. Then Google and NextEra began laying the groundwork to restart the Duane Arnold nuclear station, Iowa’s only such plant, which shut down in 2020. As I told you on Tuesday, that latter deal took a major step forward when the Department of Energy pledged $1.9 billion toward bringing the single 615-megawatt reactor back online.
Now Google is exporting its strategy to Europe. On Wednesday, the giant announced a 22-year power purchase agreement with the Finnish utility Fortum Oyj to extend the life of the Loviisa nuclear station by buying as much as 50% of its electricity from 2030 to 2049. The contract — the first of its kind in Europe to provide for direct power purchases between a specific power plant and a hyperscaler — starts in 2028.
The deal is part of a broader $15.1 billion investment into artificial intelligence infrastructure throughout Finland over the next two years, and will direct roughly $1.1 billion toward the plant’s relicensing. “Long-term partnerships like the one between Fortum and Google are essential to making that happen, especially in today’s uncertain market environment characterized by low visibility and highly volatile electricity prices,” Fortum CEO Markus Rauramo said in a statement. In a text message last night, Emmet Penney, the director of energy and infrastructure at the Foundation for American Innovation, told me it was once “fashionable to say that nuclear was dead in the West, that we could only look on as nuclear slouched toward its demise and irrelevance.” Now, however, “Google is doing the world a favor by showing why and how that view was wrong” by demonstrating willingness to put its money where its mouth is to expand the power supply, he said. “Some things are fads, but nuclear is never out of season.”
Global investments in manufacturing clean technology fell 14% in the first quarter of 2026 and another 7% in the second three-month window, according to an analysis by the Rhodium Group’s Clean Investment Monitor released Thursday of the first half of this year. For the first time, China’s share of green manufacturing investments dipped below a third, marking a significant decline from its peak of over 71% in 2023. A major drop in the expansion of solar panel factories accounted for much of the slowdown. Investments in new factories fell by 83% in the second quarter of 2026 compared to the peak in the last three months of 2023. China accounted for 94% of the decline. But China’s contraction came with expansion elsewhere. India, for example, saw solar factory investments accelerate from 5% to 48%, making it the largest net contributor for the past four quarters. Solar manufacturing is expanding in the U.S., and the Department of Commerce’s new import duties on the polysilicon needed to make most panel components should help that continue. But the overall picture for clean energy investment, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo described in the spring, is mixed.
There are green shoots, however. While the amount of capital spent on construction of new manufacturing and industrial plants slowed, the value of such investments rose 10% in the first quarter of this year and held steady in the second quarter, breaking a 10-quarter streak of declines in announced investments. The bulk of the deals were in critical minerals, wind, sustainable aviation fuel, batteries, and — yes — solar. But there’s also more coal. On Thursday morning, the International Energy Agency forecast global coal demand to reach a record high of nearly 9 billion metric tons this year.
The U.S. has enough solar panels in operation today to power more than 50 million American homes, representing over a third of households. That’s according to the latest market analysis conducted by the consultancy Wood Mackenzie on behalf of the Solar Energy Industries Association and released early this morning. Solar developers added 11.4 gigawatts of generating capacity in the second quarter of 2026, a 45% increase from the same period last year and 43% increase from the first three months of this year. Most of that new capacity came from utility-scale projects, which added 9.6 gigawatts — a 61% year-over-year leap. “Solar and storage have grown to a scale most Americans have yet to fully realize and we simply can’t meet America’s growing energy needs without these technologies,” Tim Pawlenty, the chief executive of the solar industry’s leading trade group, said in a statement.
It’s a milestone for solar’s expansion, and highlights the competitiveness of the technology despite the Trump administration’s crackdown on renewables it criticizes as too weather dependent. But it’s only a description of capacity. It’s virtually impossible for all the solar panels in the country to produce power at the same time, and the swings in electricity production are ultimately what draw criticism from those who instead push for generating stations that can pump out power at all times of day. That, in my view, makes the most important signal in the report the speed of the growth, demonstrating how quickly solar can come online and serve surging demand.
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Yesterday I told you that a federal court overturned the water permits New Jersey issued for construction of a pipeline to carry more natural gas into the Northeast, delivering a blow to the pipeline push the region is gearing up for as winter energy demands increasingly become what my colleague Matthew Zeitlin described bluntly last year as “a problem.” But there’s some good news, via the latest analysis from the U.S. Energy Information Administration. Enough cheap gas is flowing into New England at a moment when consumption is relatively low to push down prices. Natural gas prices at Algonquin Citygate, a trading and pricing hub in Boston that averages out what New England is paying for the fuel, are now trading at a discount compared to the main U.S. benchmark, the Henry Hub. Prices at Algonquin Citygate averaged 43 cents per million British thermal units less than Henry Hub from April through July. Part of the price drop came from a drop in demand as home heating fell off during the summer and solar generation increased during longer sunny days. Increased supply from Appalachia was another factor, as was a spike in imports from Canada.
Emissions of greenhouse gases from fossil fuels and agriculture are widely recognized as the primary drivers behind rising global temperatures. But scientists have long warned that, as the planet grows hotter, natural feedback loops will begin to pump more emissions into the atmosphere, from methane seeping out from decaying ancient material in thawing permafrost or carbon dioxide spewing from infernos like those scorching Indonesia’s biggest islands. A new study suggests that those warming-induced greenhouse gases from natural sources could amplify global warming by 20% to 30% this century, adding as much 0.4 degrees Celsius to the global temperature average. The authors of the study, published early Thursday morning in the journal Environmental Research Letters, billed it as the largest effort to date to quantify the combined impact of carbon dioxide and methane from permafrost thaw, wildfires, wetlands, and inland waterways. Permafrost thaw, however, comprises roughly half the projected emissions. The authors came from Stanford University, Woodwell Climate Research Center, research nonprofit Spark Climate Solutions, and the advocacy group Environmental Defense Fund. Even if emissions from human activities reached net zero, greenhouse gases could create feedback loops that raise global temperatures by at least 0.2 degrees Celsius by 2100. A higher emissions scenario could be twice that much warming.
“The results are a wake-up call, and it’s imperative that they be included in the next generation of climate policies,” Robert Jackson, the Stanford University professor and chair of the Global Carbon Project who co-authored the paper, said in a statement.
The Pacific Northwest is poised for a big geothermal push. Hexagon Energy, an independent energy developer, and timber and wood giant Weyerhaeuser Company just inked a strategic partnership that will clear the way for geothermal projects across the latter company’s vast property portfolio in Oregon and Washington. “Geothermal energy represents an emerging opportunity to provide clean and reliable, around-the-clock power, and our ownership presents a unique platform to evaluate that potential in the Pacific Northwest,” Kendall Fountain, Weyerhaeuser’s vice president of energy and natural resources, said in a statement. Once built, the projects are expected to generate up to 3 gigawatts of power.
A new paper from Energy Innovation and GridLab lays out some options for Governor Gavin Newsom — or whoever comes next.
California’s continued progress on climate change may depend on whether the state can find a way to bring down its high electricity rates, which hurt the economics of cleaner technologies like electric vehicles and heat pumps and make climate action more politically difficult.
Ahead of the upcoming governor’s race, the clean energy research firms Energy Innovation and GridLab convened a group of more than 20 local electricity experts to develop a policy roadmap for the state’s next administration to reduce energy costs. They published the findings on Thursday, describing a number of opportunities for policymakers to better manage utility spending and more fairly allocate costs among utilities, residents, and communities.
“There is so much work to be done to correct for and address the underlying forces that have led to consistent rate increases over the last 25 years,” Mike O’Boyle, the senior director for policy and strategy at Energy Innovation, told me. There are also no quick fixes, he added. Instead, the report offers directional solutions rather than specific policy proposals, recognizing that it will take years of sustained leadership to make progress.
By far the most significant force driving California’s high rates, especially over the past decade, is the cost of responding to and preventing catastrophic wildfires. The state Public Advocate’s office recently found that the wildfire-related share of the average customer’s bill is 14% to 19%, or $21 to $41 per month.
Just before the Labor Day weekend, Governor Gavin Newsom faced a showdown with the legislature over his proposal for how to reallocate wildfire liability. For weeks, Newsom had been pushing lawmakers for a package that would reduce the amount of money utilities would be on the hook for after their equipment sparks a wildfire. One of his priorities was to outlaw subjugation, a mechanism by which insurance companies sue utilities to recover the cost of paying out wildfire claims. Newsom was responding to pleas from utilities warning that their credit would be downgraded unless the state reduced their share of the risk. Lower credit ratings would mean increased borrowing costs and, ultimately, higher electricity rates.
The full details of Newsom’s package were never released to the public, but it saw major pushback from insurance companies and victims groups who framed it as a "utility bailout.” Eventually, with just a few days left on the legislative calendar, the governor and legislature put out a compromise bill. It did nothing on subrogation, but it would have blocked hedge funds from buying up and reaping profits from insurance claims, and blocked bonuses for C-suite utility officers when the company sparks a fire.
Despite the supposed compromise, the bill died on the floor of the Assembly. Speaker Robert Rivas said it “does not yet deliver the relief, accountability or meaningful reform that Californians deserve” and vowed to go back to work to “deliver real results.”
Lawmakers may have been convinced by the market’s quick reaction to the bill. The Monday after it was released, California utility PG&E’s stock dropped 20%, while Edison International, which owns Southern California Edison, saw a drop of 23%. Last Wednesday, after the deal had fallen apart, PG&E announced that it would defer $2 billion in capital spending for the next year. In a pre-recorded video, the company’s CEO Patti Poppe discussed how far the company has come since its 2019 bankruptcy, praising its recent track record of no ignitions and innovative investments in grid modernization, but said it was “unable to fund the continued transformation at our current pace. When risks go up, lenders charge more.”
The issue Newsom was trying to address stems from the fact that California assigns full liability to utilities when their equipment sparks a wildfire, regardless of whether the incident was the result of negligence. That’s only one part of the problem, however. The other is that the state leans heavily on utilities to do the majority of its wildfire prevention work, rather than spreading out the responsibility across a broader array of residents and communities. The liability policy also amplifies the second issue, as it creates a perverse incentive for utilities and their regulators to try to reduce the risk of sparking a fire to as close to zero as possible, no matter the cost.
Electricity ratepayers cover both the liability utilities face after a fire as well as the cost of all of that risk reduction — but they spend far more on the latter. Between 2019 and 2024, utility regulators authorized the state’s three private electric companies to recover $40 billion in wildfire-related costs from its ratepayers. Just a third were liability-related costs, such as insurance premiums and payments into a fund utilities can draw on to cover settlements with victims. The rest was mitigation.
The Energy Innovation and GridLab report puts aside thorny questions about wildfire liability and focuses on addressing this mitigation side of the issue with three overarching recommendations.
First, California needs a better way to evaluate the cost-effectiveness of different types of wildfire mitigation. Part of the issue is that when a utility says it needs to spend $200 million on tree trimming in Lake Tahoe, for example, regulators don’t have the tools to assess whether there’s a more cost effective alternative. Maybe $100 million on tree trimming with another $20 million for other kinds of community hardening would provide the same amount of risk reduction.
Second, the state could better leverage public finance, for example by expanding the use of ratepayer-backed bonds to pay for wildfire mitigation. California started down this path in a big utility package passed last year, authorizing utilities to borrow $6 billion from ratepayers through 2035 — a lower-cost form of finance than investor equity. Utilities are spending $9 billion per year on wildfires, however, so that measure was a drop in the bucket.
Third, the state should more equitably spread the responsibility of mitigating wildfire risks, re-allocating some costs from ratepayers to taxpayers and at-risk communities. Utilities spend $9 billion a year on wildfire-related costs, but the state’s Department of Forestry and Fire Protection’s most recent mitigation budget was just $440 million. “The reality is that the status quo of ratepayers paying for all this is untenable,” O’Boyle said. Utility-led mitigation focuses on preventing ignitions, but it doesn’t address factors unrelated to electric infrastructure that can worsen a blaze, such as overgrown forests, development near wildlands, and brush surrounding homes.
While the fracas around Newsom’s compromise package focused on the liability aspects, the bill would have also taken small steps toward some of these recommendations. It required CalFIRE to develop standards for wildfire risk reporting data and incorporate them into community risk reduction metrics — a move toward better evaluations of the most cost-effective measures.
It also would have required the state’s Natural Resources Agency to create a comprehensive statewide community wildfire preparedness strategy, provide support for counties to develop protection plans that align with the strategy, and base state support on communities’ annual progress updates.
We’ll see if any of that gets salvaged. While the legislative session is officially over, Newsom could still call a special session to get a wildfire bill done this year.