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As climate writers, my colleagues and I spend a lot of time telling readers that places are hot. The Arabian Peninsula? It’s hot. The Atlantic Ocean? It’s hot. The southern U.S. and northern Mexico? Hot and getting hotter.
But here’s a little secret: “Hot” doesn’t really mean … anything. The word is, of course, of critical importance when it comes to communicating that global temperatures are the highest they’ve been in 125,000 years because of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, or for public health officials to anticipate and prevent deaths when the environment reaches the point where human bodies start malfunctioning. But when you hear it’s “100 degrees out,” what does that really tell you?
Beyond that you’re a fellow member of the Fahrenheit cult, the answer is: not a lot. Humans can “probably avoid overheating” in temperatures of 115 degrees — but only if they’re in a dry room with 10 percent relative humidity, wearing “minimal” clothing, and not moving, The New York Times reports. On the other hand, you have a high chance of life-threatening heat stroke when it’s a mere 90 degrees out … if the humidity is at 95%. Then there are all the variables in between: if there’s a breeze, if you’re pregnant, if you’re standing in the shade or the sun, if you’re a child, if you’re running a 10K or if you’re napping on your couch in front of a swamp cooler.
In order to better specify how hot “hot” is, a number of different equations and techniques have been developed around the world. In general, this math takes into account two main variables: temperature (the one we all use, also known as “dry bulb” or “ambient air temperature,” which is typically measured five feet above the ground in the shade) and relative humidity (the percentage of air saturated with water vapor, also known as the ugly cousin of the trendier dew point; notably Canada’s heat index equivalent, the Humidex, is calculated from the dew point rather than the relative humidity).
In events like the already deadly heat dome over the southern United States and northern Mexico this week, you typically hear oohing and ahhing about the “heat index,” which is sometimes also called the “apparent temperature,” “feels like temperature,” “humiture,” or, in AccuWeather-speak, the “RealFeel® temperature.”
But what does that mean and how is it calculated?
The heat index roughly approximates how hot it “actually feels.”
This is different than the given temperature on the thermometer because the amount of humidity in the air affects how efficiently sweat evaporates from our skin and in turn keeps us cool. The more humidity there is, the less efficiently our bodies can cool themselves, and the hotter we feel; in contrast, when the air is dry, it’s easier for our bodies to keep cool. Regrettably, this indeed means that insufferable Arizonans who say “it’s a dry heat!” have a point.
The heat index, then, tells you an estimate of the temperature it would have to be for your body to be similarly stressed in “normal” humidity conditions of around 20%. In New Orleans this week, for example, the temperature on the thermometer isn’t expected to be above 100°F, but because the humidity is so high, the heat toll on the body will be as if it were actually 115°F out in normal humidity.
Importantly, the heat index number is calculated as if you were standing in the shade. If you’re exposed to the sun at all, the “feels like” is, of course, actually higher — potentially as many as 15 degrees higher. Someone standing in the New Orleans sun this week might more realistically feel like they’re in 130-degree heat.

Here’s the catch, though: The heat index is “purely theoretical since the index can’t be measured and is highly subjective,” as meteorologist Chris Robbins explains. The calculations are all made under the assumption that you are a 5’7”, 147-pound healthy white man wearing short sleeves and pants, and walking in the shade at the speed of 3.1 mph while a 6-mph wind gently ruffles your hair.
Wait, what?
I’m glad you asked.
In 1979, a physicist named R. G. Steadman published a two-part paper delightfully titled “The Assessment of Sultriness.” In it, he observed that though many approaches to measuring “sultriness,” or the combined effects of temperature and humidity, can be taken, “it is best assessed in terms of its physiological effect on humans.” He then set out, with obsessive precision, to do so.
Steadman came up with a list of approximately 19 variables that contribute to the overall “feels like” temperature, including the surface area of an average human (who is assumed to be 1.7 meters tall and weigh 67 kilograms); their clothing cover (84%) and those clothes’ resistance to heat transfer (the shirt and pants are assumed to be 20% fiber and 80% air); the person’s core temperature (a healthy 98.6°F) and sweat rate (normal); the effective wind speed (5 knots); the person’s activity level (typical walking speed); and a whole lot more.
Here’s an example of what just one of those many equations looked like:

Needless to say, Steadman’s equations and tables weren’t exactly legible for a normal person — and additionally they made a whole lot of assumptions about who a “normal person” was — but Steadman was clearly onto something. Describing how humidity and temperature affected the human body was, at the very least, interesting and useful. How, then, to make it easier?
In 1990, the National Weather Service’s Lans P. Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis to simplify Steadman’s equations into a single handy formula while at the same time acknowledging that to do so required relying on assumptions about the kind of body that was experiencing the heat and the conditions surrounding him. Rothfusz, for example, used Steadman’s now-outdated calculations for the build of an average American man, who as of 2023 is 5’9” and weighs 198 pounds. This is important because, as math educator Stan Brown notes in a blog post, if you’re heavier than the 147 pounds assumed in the traditional heat index equation, then your “personal heat index” will technically be slightly hotter.
Rothfusz’s new equation looked like this:
Heat index = -42.379 + 2.04901523T + 10.14333127R - 0.22475541TR - 6.83783x10-3T 2 - 5.481717x10-2R 2 + 1.22874x10-3T 2R + 8.5282x10-4TR2 - 1.99x10-6T 2R 2
So much easier, right?
If your eyes didn’t totally glaze over, it actually sort of is — in the equation, T stands for the dry bulb temperature (in degrees Fahrenheit) and R stands for the relative humidity, and all you have to do is plug those puppies into the formula to get your heat index number. Or not: There are lots of online calculators that make doing this math as straightforward as just typing in the two numbers.
Because Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis, the heat index that is regularly cited by the government and media has a margin of error of +/- 1.3°F relative to a slightly more accurate, albeit hypothetical, heat index. Also of note: There are a bunch of different methods of calculating the heat index, but Rothfusz’s is the one used by the NWS and the basis for its extreme heat alerts. The AccuWeather “RealFeel,” meanwhile, has its own variables that it takes into account and that give it slightly different numbers.
Midday Wednesday in New Orleans, for example, when the ambient air temperature was 98°F, the relative humidity was 47%, and the heat index hovered around 108.9°F, AccuWeather recorded a RealFeel of 111°F and a RealFeel Shade of 104°F.
You might also be wondering at this point, as I did, that if Steadman at one time factored out all these variables individually, wouldn’t it be possible to write a simple computer program that is capable of personalizing the “feel like” temperature so they are closer to your own physical specifications? The answer is yes, although as Randy Au writes in his excellent Substack post on the heat index equation, no one has seemingly actually done this yet. Math nerds, your moment is now.
Because we’re Americans, it is important that we use the weirdest possible measurements at all times. This is probably why the heat index is commonly cited by our government, media, and meteorologists when communicating how hot it is outside.
But it gets weirder. Unlike the heat index, though, the “wet-bulb globe temperature” (sometimes abbreviated “WBGT”) is specifically designed to understand “heat-related stress on the human body at work (or play) in direct sunlight,” NWS explains. In a sense, the wet-bulb globe temperature measures what we experience after we’ve been cooled by sweat.

The “bulb” we’re referring to here is the end of a mercury thermometer (not to be confused with a lightbulb or juvenile tulip). Natural wet-bulb temperature (which is slightly different from the WBGT, as I’ll explain in a moment) is measured by wrapping the bottom of a thermometer in a wet cloth and passing air over it. When the air is dry, it is by definition less saturated with water and therefore has more capacity for moisture. That means that under dry conditions, more water from the cloth around the bulb evaporates, which pulls more heat away from the bulb, dropping the temperature. This is the same reason why you feel cold when you get out of a shower or swimming pool. The drier the air, the colder the reading on the wet-bulb thermometer will be compared to the actual air temperature.
Wet bulb temperature - why & when is it used?www.youtube.com
If the air is humid, however, less water is able to evaporate from the wet cloth. When the relative humidity is at 100% — that is, the air is fully saturated with water — then the wet-bulb temperature and the normal dry-bulb temperature will be the same.
Because of this, the wet-bulb temperature is usually lower than the relative air temperature, which makes it a bit confusing when presented without context (a comfortable wet-bulb temperature at rest is around 70°F). Wet-bulb temperatures over just 80, though, can be very dangerous, especially for active people.
The WBGT is, like the heat index, an apparent temperature, or “feels like,” calculation; generally when you see wet-bulb temperatures being referred to, it is actually the WBGT that is being discussed. This is also the measurement that is preferred by the military, athletic organizations, road-race organizers, and the Occupational Safety and Health Administration because it helps you understand how, well, survivable the weather is, especially if you are moving.
Our bodies regulate temperature by sweating to shed heat, but sweat stops working “once the wet-bulb temperature passes 95°F,” explains Popular Science. “That’s because, in order to maintain a normal internal temperature, your skin has to stay at 95°F degrees or below.” Exposure to wet-bulb temperatures over 95°F can be fatal within just six hours. On Wednesday, when I was doing my readings of New Orleans, the wet-bulb temperature was around 88.5°F.
The WBGT is helpful because it takes the natural wet-bulb temperature reading a step further by factoring in considerations not only of temperature and humidity, but also wind speed, sun angle, and solar radiation (basically cloud cover). Calculating the WBGT involves taking a weighted average of the ambient, wet-bulb, and globe temperature readings, which together cover all these variables.
That formula looks like:
Wet-bulb globe temperature = 0.7Tw + 0.2Tg + 0.1Td
Tw is the natural wet-bulb temperature, Tg is the globe thermometer temperature (which measures solar radiation), and Td is the dry bulb temperature. By taking into account the sun angle, cloud cover, and wind, the WBGT gives a more nuanced read of how it feels to be a body outside — but without getting into the weeds with 19 different difficult-to-calculate variables like, ahem, someone we won’t further call out here.
Thankfully, there’s a calculator for the WBGT formula, although don’t bother entering all the info if you don’t have to — the NWS reports it nationally, too.
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On Exxon’s Venezuela flipflop, SpaceX’s fears, and a nuclear deal spree
Current conditions: U.S. government forecasters project just one to three major storms in the Atlantic this hurricane season • The Meade Lake Complex, a wildfire that scorched 92,000 acres in southwest Kansas, is now largely contained • Temperatures in Vientiane, the sprawling capital of Laos, are nearing 100 degrees Fahrenheit amid a week of lightning storms.
A years-long megadrought. Reduced snowpack in the northern mountains. Rising water demand from southwestern farms and cities whose groundwater is depleting. It is no wonder the water levels in Lake Mead are getting low. Now the Trump administration is giving the Hoover Dam money for a makeover to make do in the increasingly parched new normal. The Great Depression-era megaproject in the Colorado River’s Black Canyon boasts the largest reservoir capacity among hydroelectric dams. But the facility’s actual output of electricity — already outpaced by six other dams in the U.S. — is set to plunge to a new low if drought-parched Lake Meade’s elevation drops below 1,035 feet, the level at which bubbles start to form damage the turbines. At that point, the dam’s output could drop from its lowest standard generating capacity of 1,302 megawatts to a meager 382 megawatts. Last night, federal data showed the water level perilously close to that boundary, at 1,052 feet. The Bureau of Reclamation’s $52 million injection will pay for the replacement of as many as three older turbines with new, so-called wide-head turbines, which are designed to operate efficiently at levels below 1,035 feet. Once installed, the agency expects to restore at least 160 megawatts of hydropower capacity. “This action ensures Hoover Dam remains a cornerstone of American energy production for decades to come,” Andrea Travnicek, the Interior Department’s assistant secretary for water and science, said in a statement.
Like geothermal, hydropower is a form of renewable energy that President Donald Trump appreciates, given its 24/7 output. Last month, the Department of Energy’s recently reorganized Hydropower and Hydrokinetic Office announced that it would allow nearly $430 million in payments to American hydropower facilities to move forward after stalling the funding for 293 projects at 212 facilities. Last year, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission proposed streamlining the process for relicensing existing dams and giving the facilities a categorical exclusion from the National Environmental Policy Act. The Energy Department also withdrew from a Biden-era agreement to breach dams in the Pacific Northwest in a bid to restore the movement of salmon through the Columbia River.
Shortly after the U.S. capture of Venezuelan leader Nicolas Máduro in January, Exxon Mobil CEO Darren Woods told CNBC the South American nation would need to embark on a serious transition to democracy before the largest U.S. energy company could invest in production in a country the firm exited two decades ago amid the socialist government’s crackdown. Five months later, he may be changing his tune. On Thursday, The New York Times reported that Exxon Mobil was in talks to acquire rights to start drilling for oil in Venezuela. If finalized, such a deal would mark what the newspaper called “a victory for President Trump, who has declared the country’s vast natural wealth open to American businesses.”
It’s not just Elon Musk’s xAI data centers that brace for the data center backlash that Heatmap’s Jael Holzman clocked last fall as the thing “swallowing American politics.” In its S-1 filing to the Securities and Exchange Commission ahead of one of the country’s most anticipated stock market debuts this year, SpaceX warned that mounting public skepticism over AI could harm the growth of America’s leading private space firm. “If AI technologies are perceived to be significantly disruptive to society, it could lead to governmental or regulatory restrictions or prohibitions on their use, societal concerns or unrest, or both, any of which could materially and adversely affect our ability to develop, deploy, or commercialize AI technologies and execute our business strategy,” the company disclosed in the filing, a detail highlighted in a post on X by Transformer editor Shakeel Hashim. “Our implementation of AI technologies, including through our AI segment’s systems, could result in legal liability, regulatory action, operational disruption, brand, reputational or competitive harm, or other adverse impacts.”
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Yesterday, I told you that corporate energy buyers last year inked deals for more nuclear power than wind energy. But if you needed more proof that, as Heatmap’s Katie Brigham called last summer, “the nuclear dealmaking boom is real,” just look at this week:
Separately, this week saw two projects take big steps forward:
It’s been the year of Chinese automotives. Ford’s chief executive admits he can’t get enough of his Xiaomi SU7. Chinese auto exports are booming. And now Beijing’s ultimate automotive champion, BYD, is accelerating talks to enter Formula 1. On Thursday, the Financial Times reported that the company had met with former Red Bull Racing chief Christian Horner in Cannes. “Following talks between Stella Li, executive vice-president at BYD, and Horner last week, BYD intends to hold further meetings with senior figures involved in F1 and at the FIA, the governing body,” the newspaper reported.
China’s hydrogen boom continues. The country’s electrolyzers are quickly going the way of batteries and solar panels by securing global export deals that reflect their efficiency and competitive prices. On Thursday, Hydrogen Insight reported that Chinese manufacturer Sungrow Hydrogen inked a deal to supply a 2-megawatt alkaline electrolyzer to a Spanish cement facility. That same day, another Chinese manufacturer, Hygreen Energy, announced an agreement to supply a 1.3-megawatt system to a green hydrogen project in Nova Scotia.
With both temperatures and electricity prices rising, many who are using less energy are still paying more, according to data from the Electricity Price Hub.
In 135 years of record-keeping, Tampa, Florida, has never been hotter than it was last July.
Though often humid, the city on the bay is typically breezy, even in summer. But on July 27, it broke 100 degrees Fahrenheit on the thermometer for the first time ever; two days later, it hit its highest-ever heat index, 119 degrees. The family of Hezekiah Walters, the 14-year-old who died of heat stroke during football practice in Tampa in 2019, urged neighbors at a local CPR certification event to take the heat warnings seriously. Local HVAC companies complained about the volume of calls. Area hospitals struggled to keep their rooms and clinics comfortable. Experts later said the record temperatures were made five times more likely by climate change.
But according to data from Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, Tampa Electric customers used 14% less electricity in July 2025 than they did in the same month of 2020, which was Tampa’s previous hottest July on record — about 216 kilowatt-hours per household less, roughly the equivalent of running a central AC a couple hours fewer per day for an entire month. Tellingly, Tampa Electric raised rates over that period by 84%, with the average bill growing from $111 to $190 per month.
Though there are many instances in many places around the country where usage has dropped as rates rose, the correlation doesn’t necessarily mean people were rationing their electricity. Climate-related factors like anomalously cool summers can lower summer bills, while energy efficiency upgrades can also result in changes to residential consumption. Southern California Edison customers, for example, used 24% less electricity in 2025 than they did in 2020, at least in part due to the widespread adoption of rooftop solar.
Thanks to recent efforts by the Energy Information Agency to track energy insecurity and utility disconnections, however, we can start to tease out deficiency from efficiency. By cross-referencing that data with rate and usage statistics from the Electricity Price Hub, we find a handful of places like Tampa, where people have seemingly reduced their electricity usage because they couldn’t afford the added cost, even during a deadly heatwave. (Tampa Electric did not return our request for comment.)
The EIA’s tracking program, known as the Residential Energy Consumption Survey, tells a clear story: Across the country, people are struggling to absorb the rising costs of electricity. In 2020, nearly one in four Americans reported some form of energy insecurity, meaning they were either unable to afford to use heating or cooling equipment, pay their energy bills, or pay for other necessities due to energy costs. By 2024, the most recent data available, that number had risen to a third — and two-thirds of households with incomes under $10,000. In 2024 alone, utilities sent 94.9 million final shutoff notices to residential electricity customers.
Since 2020, 98% of the more than 400 utilities in the Heatmap-MIT dataset have raised their rates — more than half of them by greater than 20%; about one in 10 utilities have raised their rates by 50% or more. And 219 of those utilities raised rates even as usage in their service area fell, meaning that as customers used less, they still paid more.
“I don’t feel like [the rates have] ever been all that affordable, but they have steadily increased more and more and more,” Janelle Ghiorso, a PG&E customer in California who recently filed for bankruptcy due to the debt she incurred from her electricity bills, told me. She added: “When do I get relief? When I’m dead?”
The people hit hardest by rate increases tend to be those already struggling the most. For example, about 30% of Kentucky residents reported going without heat or AC, leaving their homes at unsafe temperatures, or cutting back on food or medicine to pay energy bills, per the EIA’s 2020 RECS report. Since then, Kentucky Power has raised rates in the eastern part of the state by 45%, adding about $64 to the average monthly bill in a service area where the median monthly household income can be less than $4,000.
The Department of Energy’s Low-income Energy Affordability Data, which measures energy affordability patterns, actually obscures some of this burden. It reports that for all of Kentucky, annual electricity costs account for about 2% of the state’s median household income, which is about average for the nation. But in Kentucky Power’s Appalachian service area specifically, many households live under 200% of the poverty level, and $15 of every $100 someone earns might go toward their energy costs, Chris Woolery, the residential energy coordinator at Mountain Association, a nonprofit economic development group that serves the region, told me. “The situation is just dire for many folks,” he said.
Kentucky Power is aware of this; its low-income assistance charge has grown by 110% since 2020, the Heatmap-MIT data shows. Woolery also noted that the utility agreed to voluntary protections against disconnections, such as a 24-hour moratorium during extreme weather, in a rate case settlement with the Kentucky Public Service Commission. The commission rejected the proposal, but the utility kept the protections anyway, Woolery told me.
Customers in other areas are not so lucky.
In states like Oklahoma, where one in three households reported energy insecurity in 2020, rates rose about 30% from 2020 to 2025, according to our data. Per the EIA survey, Oklahoma’s monthly disconnection rate is more than three times the national average. Oklahoma doesn’t have the highest electricity rates in the country — far from it. But median incomes there are low enough that even moderate rate increases leave some with hard choices.
Interestingly, in bottom-income-quartile states, where median household incomes are below $81,337, only about 30% of utilities show a pattern of rising bills and falling electricity usage, which would suggest energy rationing. The other 70% of utilities show the opposite effect: usage is rising despite electricity rates becoming a bigger burden of customers’ incomes. In Kentucky Power’s service area, for example, bills may be up $64 a month, but usage remained essentially flat.
“Think of it this way: The electric company goes to the front of the line,” Mark Wolfe, the executive director of the National Energy Assistance Directors Association, a policy group for administrators of the Low-Income Home Energy Assistance Program, told me of how households triage their bills. If you need to buy something from the grocery store, the drug store, or pay your electricity bill, then “the utility goes to the front of the line because they can shut off your power, which causes lots of other problems.”
Wolfe added, “Plus, if you’re really in dire straits, you can go to the food bank. You can’t go to the ‘other’ utility company.”
Even as resource-strapped households put a higher share of their income toward electricity, they’re also least able to afford energy efficiency upgrades like newer appliances, smart thermostats, or solar panels. The pattern is prevalent in places with extreme climates, such as Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, where turning off the AC in the middle of summer could mean death. It shows up most starkly among the most extreme rate examples in our data set, like the utilities serving remote Alaska villages — despite astronomical electricity prices, usage hasn’t fluctuated much because its customers are already using it as little as they can afford. The elderly and other individuals living on fixed incomes are also often unable to cut their electricity usage beyond what little they’re already using.
In middle-income states like Florida, roughly 60% of the utilities in our dataset show rising bills and falling electricity use — more than twice the rate we see in the lowest-income states. While the poorest Americans have already reduced their electricity use to the bare minimum and are cutting groceries and medicine in order to keep the heat and AC on, in places like Tampa, where the median income is $96,480, the electricity rate shocks have caused even middle- and even high-earning households to start worrying about their bills. According to a new survey released Tuesday by Ipsos and the energy policy nonprofit PowerLines, 74% of respondents with household incomes over $100,000 said they are worried about their utility bills increasing.
“People are seeing their utility bill as one of the few things that changes so much month to month, that is so unpredictable, and that they don’t have any control over,” Charles Hua, the founder and executive director of PowerLines, told me.
Wolfe, the executive director at NEADA, agreed, saying that for the first time, the association has begun hearing from families with incomes above the threshold who need assistance. “An extra $100 a month for a family, but they’re middle class — that shouldn’t push them over the edge,” at least in theory, Wolfe said. But for those with no flexibility in their budgets, anything additional or unpredictable “pushes them close to the edge — from going from middle class to lower middle class — and I think that’s why this affordability crisis is becoming such an issue.”
We can also see this phenomenon in the explosion of line items on utility bills going toward funding assistance programs. Appalachian Power Co.’s low-income surcharge, for instance, is up 3,200% for customers in Virginia; Puget Sound Energy’s low-income program is up 970% for customers in Washington; and PacifiCorp Oregon’s low-income cost-recovery charge, up 879%.
The EIA data, too, bears this out: Florida had one of the highest rates of people reporting they were “unable to use air conditioning equipment” due to costs in the RECS data, and in 2024, there were 186,202 disconnections in the state in July alone — every one of which would have meant people no longer had the power to run their ACs. (FPL and Duke Energy Florida also show usage declines as rates rose, although neither raised rates as much as Tampa.)
The data also shows places where higher-income earners have aggressively pursued efficiency upgrades to lower their usage. In the LA Department of Water and Power service area in California, usage is down more than 11% overall between 2020 and 2025, one of the biggest drops in our dataset. But the lower usage is more evenly distributed month to month, indicating that things like solar adoption and efficiency programs are likely behind the drop, rather than cost pressures. (Rates there still rose more than 28%, or about $15 per month.)
Even doing everything right wasn’t enough to save customers in the end — households that cut their electricity use still saw their bills rise by an average of $20 a month, our data shows.
Perhaps most concerning, though, is the relentless upward trajectory. PowerLines reports that utilities have submitted $9.4 billion in new requests in the first quarter of 2026 alone. Heatmap and MIT’s numbers show that 79% of utilities raised rates in 2025, and 55% have raised them again already this year.
But the advocates I talked to stressed that utilities have more agency than they get credit for. Take Kentucky Power, for example, with its voluntary disconnection protections. “It just shows that you don’t necessarily have to make disconnections to be financially solvent,” Woolery of the Mountain Association pointed out. Or take Ouachita Electric in Arkansas, which passed a 4.5% rate decrease after investing in efficiency upgrades in consumers’ homes through a pay-as-you-save model.
But that’s the rare exception. For most customers, relief is not obviously on the way. Signs increasingly point to the imminent onset of a super El Niño, which could bring punishing, climate-change-intensified heat waves across the United States. The July 2025 record in Tampa will almost certainly not stand; someday, it’ll be the second-hottest summer, or the third. In a few decades, it might even look cool.
And still there will be bills to pay.
Rob talks with UCLA law professor Ann Carlson about her fascinating new book, Smog and Sunshine.
We live in a time of unheralded environmental victories. Dolphins and whales swim in New York and San Francisco harbors. Lead has been eliminated globally in gasoline for cars and trucks. And Southern California has cleaned up its air.
That last one is more important than you might think. On today’s episode of Shift Key, Rob is joined by Ann Carlson, a professor of environmental law at UCLA and the former acting head of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. She's also the author of a new book, Smog and Sunshine: The Surprising Story of How Los Angeles Cleaned Up Its Air, which was released last month by the University of California Press.
Ann and Rob discuss why cleaning up LA’s air was so important to cleaning up the world’s air. They chat about why LA initially misdiagnosed the causes of its terrible air pollution, how it got them right, and what we can learn from the city’s eventual inspiring success.
Shift Key is hosted by Robinson Meyer, the founding executive editor of Heatmap News.
Subscribe to “Shift Key” and find this episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can also add the show’s RSS feed to your podcast app to follow us directly.
Here is an excerpt from their conversation:
Ann Carlson: We should talk more about the Clean Air Act itself because it’s a pretty extraordinary piece of legislation — hard to imagine something like that passing today.
Robinson Meyer: As you are a professor of environmental law, I can’t think of a better topic to talk about. So one, there’s a few nuances that are important. The first is that California is early to air pollution law, so it’s beginning to explore how to regulate cars by the time that the Clean Air Act passes. But the second is this distinction that you’ve begun to draw in this conversation between technology following versus technology forcing regulation, where California had adopted technology following regulation, and that made it kind of captive to the car companies.
Can you talk a little bit about why the Clean Air Act is different and why it was different? And did people understand maybe how different it was when they were writing it?
Carlson: I think they did understand how different it was. And what they did was, instead of focusing on whether technology was available or what was possible to demand of auto companies based on that technology, they focused on public health. And the basic overarching idea in the Clean Air Act is, we are going to set standards that protect public health. We’re not going to worry about cost. We’re not going to worry about technological availability. We’re going to tell manufacturers, for example, you cut pollutants by 90% by 1975 and 1976, depending on the pollutant. We understand there’s no technology. Go out and invent it. That’s the technology-forcing part of the statute.
Of course, the auto manufacturers say they can’t do it. Lee Iacocca famously says that Ford will stop manufacturing vehicles if the Clean Air Act passes. Ford continues to manufacture vehicles to this day. He, of course, was engaged in hyperbole, but that gives you some sense for just how intense the opposition was and how kind of panicked the manufacturers were. But that technology-forcing statute, again, combined with California’s authority to regulate, set off this arms race to really figure out how do we cut pollutants dramatically.
You can find a full transcript of the episode here.
Mentioned:
Ann Carlson’s new book: Smog and Sunshine: The Surprising Story of How Los Angeles Cleaned Up Its Air
This episode of Shift Key is sponsored by ...
Heatmap Pro brings all of our research, reporting, and insights down to the local level. The software platform tracks all local opposition to clean energy and data centers, forecasts community sentiment, and guides data-driven engagement campaigns. Book a demo today to see the premier intelligence platform for project permitting and community engagement.
Music for Shift Key is by Adam Kromelow.