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And make a meaningful difference in the fight against climate change, while you’re at it.

Welcome to
Decarbonize Your Life, Heatmap’s special report that aims to help you make decisions in your own life that are better for the climate, better for you, and better for the world we all live in.
This is our attempt, in other words, to assist you in living something like a normal life while also making progress in the fight against climate change. That means making smarter and more informed decisions about how climate change affects your life — and about how your life affects climate change. The point is not what you shouldn’t do (although there is some of that). It’s about what you should do to exert the most leverage on the global economic system and, hopefully, nudge things toward decarbonization just a little bit faster.
We certainly think we’ve hit upon a better way to think about climate action, but you don’t have to take our word for it. Keep reading here for more on how (and why) we think about decarbonizing your life — or just skip ahead to our recommendations.
At this point, everyone knows that individual action won’t solve climate change. Didn’t BP invent the term “carbon footprint” in 2004 so as to distract from fossil fuel companies’ guilt and greed?
As the journalist Rachel Cohen has observed, around the 2010s it became unpopular to believe that individual action could help address any major social problem. And sure, it’s true that only collective action — achieved through something like the political system — will let us eventually manage climate change at the global level.
But at Heatmap, we believe that that isn’t quite the whole story. Just because politics and collective action are the only things that can solve climate change doesn’t mean they are the only things that can do something about climate change. What’s more, the problem of carbon emissions — and the stickiness of fossil fuels — emerges from a tight knot of chemical efficiency, political power, and logistical lock-in. If individual consumers can pry at that knot, can make it a little easier to imagine a post-fossil energy system, then they can realize a zero-carbon world a little sooner.
That way of thinking about climate change, however, requires us to think somewhat differently about how to take individual action in the first place. Often, when you read about how to fight climate change as a person or family, the advice assumes that you want to reduce your responsibility for climate change. You’re advised to turn down the thermostat in the winter (or turn it up in the summer), shut off the lights when you leave the room, and compost.
This advice assumes that the reader’s goal is to personally exculpate themselves or their family from global warming — and to assuage their own guilt for participating in a polluting system.
At its most sophisticated, this advice can be valuable insofar as it can help you cut your marginal carbon emissions. The most precise versions of these recommendations often speak in terms of emissions abatement: They might advise, say, that switching to a plant-based diet could save 0.8 tons of carbon emissions a year.
You’ll see some of that kind of recommendation in this project: It’s a valid way to think about individual actions, and it works especially well in some domains, such as food. But it’s not, in our view, the best way of thinking about individual action to fight climate change.
That’s because it is essentially impossible to exculpate yourself from climate change. That’s not being fatalistic. It’s just a fact. Simply by living in the year 2024, your life is enmeshed in a sprawling economic network that devours fossil fuels as its great lifestyle subsidy. Look out the nearest window — do you see cars, asphalt, power lines, sidewalks, buildings? Do you see steel-framed structures or a plane cutting its way across the sky? None of those things could exist without fossil fuels. And unless you’re looking into wild and unkempt wilderness (if so, lucky you!), then even the plants and grass out your window, the food in your pantry, grew up on fertilizer that was manufactured with fossil fuels. If you live in a rich or middle-income country, buy goods and clothes, eat food, use electricity, or even leave your house by any means other than walking, then you are responsible, to some degree, for climate change.
Trying to zero out your personal carbon footprint, in other words, is a fool’s errand. What you can do, however, is maximize the degree to which you’re building a new, post-fossil-fuel world.
To be clear, we don’t mean that in a woo-woo way. We’re not saying you should imagine a kumbaya world where we all hold hands and take public transit to the nearest all-volunteer renewable-powered co-op. We’re saying that there are real, already existing products and technologies that must become a bigger part of today’s built environment if we are to have any hope of solving climate change. What you can do — and what we recommend in this guide — is help take those technologies from the fringes into the center of everyday life. If you want to decarbonize the whole planet, you should think about decarbonizing your life.
What we have tried to do here is not focus on how to reduce your marginal emissions — the number of tons that you, personally, are responsible for pumping into the environment. Instead, we’re trying to help you understand how to focus on high-leverage actions — the kinds of choices that can drive change throughout the energy system. That’s why in this guide you’ll find advice on how to switch to an EV, buy zero-carbon electricity, make your home more energy-efficient, and electrify your appliances. We also recommend these in the order that we think they’ll be most effective — to learn more about how we reached that ranking, read about our methodology here.
The kind of shifts we advise in this guide, to be clear, won’t solve climate change on their own. But they will help you alter the systems in which you’re enmeshed, and they’ll make you a smarter climate citizen.
Flying is maybe the trickiest climate question. Although it makes up a relatively small share of both global and U.S. emissions — about 2% each — it is among the most climate-polluting activities many Americans will do on a minute-to-minute basis. (Although if you live in a dense and walkable city like New York, San Francisco, or Washington, D.C., but travel frequently, then flying may make up a large share of your emissions.) It is probably also the most difficult “everyday” activity to decarbonize.
There is no practical substitute for long-distance or transcontinental flying. Today, only one ocean liner regularly makes the journey from New York to London, and it departs from each city only once a month. And unless you hitch a ride on a container ship, there is literally no slow boat to China. If you want to travel abroad, then you must fly. Even within the United States, there is essentially no substitute for long-distance flights. Europeans and East Asians can rely on superior long-distance rail systems, but America’s extensive road network, unusually high infrastructure costs, sclerotic rail agency, and chronic lack of transit investment mean that Americans are stuck with flying or driving.
Commercial aviation is a miracle of the modern world: It facilitates a level of global connectedness and international communication that earlier generations could only dream of. Affordable and long-distance passenger flight is, in many ways, the crowning achievement of our highly technical society, and it allows for the amount of global immigration and mass tourism that defines the modern world. (If you have a private jet, of course, stop using it. Because so few people take each flight, private jets are uniquely destructive for the climate, emitting every seven hours what the average American emits all year.)
Fossil fuels’ weight and energy density is ideal for flying. There is, right now, no drop-in replacement for jet fuel that is being produced at scale. So while we have some advice about how to mitigate your climate pollution from flying, it won’t make up a large part of this guide. Reduce the number of flights you take if you can, sure, and take more direct flights if possible. But the truth is that for now, there are smarter and more high-leverage decisions that you can make.
Only decarbonization can get us closer to tackling climate change once and for all. Our belief at Heatmap is that if you care about climate change, then decarbonization — and not mere emissions reductions — should be your guiding star. If you want to follow that star, then read on.
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A new policy proposal argues that large load tariffs on their own aren’t enough.
Earlier this year, I attempted to draw up a web diagram about energy affordability. My head was spinning from reading social media threads of experts arguing over the reasons electricity rates were so high, the best strategies to lower them, and how the data center explosion fit into the picture. I wanted to see all of the ideas laid out in one place. Here’s what I sketched out at the time:

That was in March. Looking back at it now, a few things stand out. Of course, Washington hasn't gotten anywhere meaningful yet on permitting reform. Also, the BYOP, or “bring your own power,” idea has in some cases become a justification to build huge off-grid natural gas power plants. Amazon, for example, defended backing what may become the largest fossil fuel plant in the country by saying that it “believes in paying the full costs of powering our operations,” and that the Texas data center project is “powered by new on-site generation that won’t raise electricity costs for Texas families.”
On the other hand, there have been some promising developments in deploying virtual power plants and “grid edge” technologies like rooftop solar, to the benefit of both tech companies and regular folks. In July, New Jersey passed a law to incentivize data center developers to fund virtual power plants that can create more capacity on the grid. The program could ultimately help residential customers get solar panels and batteries, which would bring down their energy bills. Just today, Google announced a partnership with the California utility PG&E to offer residential customers discounts on heat pumps combined with battery energy storage in Alameda and Santa Clara counties. The first 25 homeowners to sign up will get $10,000 off; after that the discount is $5,000.
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One strategy I didn’t jot down back in March was the “large load tariff.” This is when utility regulators create a new electricity rate class for large energy users that helps isolate the costs of serving these customers. A growing number of states have gone one step further and developed data center-specific tariffs, with requirements like charging data centers a minimum fee regardless of how much energy they use, and, in some cases, creating incentives for them to build new renewable energy projects.
A policy paper that came across my desk this week argues that this approach doesn’t go far enough. It says that states have an opportunity to fund the modernization of the electric grid by adding a surcharge on top of large load tariffs.
The paper is from the State Support Center, a nonprofit that provides clean energy policy recommendations and technical assistance to states. It was co-founded by Sam Ricketts, one of the founders of the climate group Evergreen Action and a significant voice in shaping the Inflation Reduction Act. Initially, the Center helped states figure out how to take advantage of all of the new federal funding that came out of that law. Now, like the rest of us, Ricketts is thinking about data centers.
“State policymakers are looking for ways to meet the load growth that is predominantly being driven by data centers,” he told me. “There hasn't been a thorough-enough discussion about capturing investments that large data center loads are making and using those revenues to drive investment into key barriers for the clean grid expansion that the electricity system in the U.S. now needs.”
Traditional large load tariffs are about cost assignment, Ricketts said: Regulators determine the cost of network and operational upgrades required to serve big customers and require utilities to pass those on directly rather than spreading them across the entire customer base. This is just the baseline of what data center developers should do to pay their “fair share,” though, Ricketts argued. Even if large load tariffs help cover the cost of new power plants, they don’t necessarily help solve the interconnection bottlenecks that are preventing generators — especially renewables — from joining the grid, for example.
By adding a simple per-megawatt surcharge to the rates data centers pay, states could raise revenue to accelerate interconnection. They could fund additional staff and invest in new software solutions to help move through the queue of projects waiting to connect faster. They could also put the money toward financing grid upgrades, such as installing grid-enhancing technologies that create more capacity on existing power lines. Alternatively, they could use the money to reward cities and towns for permitting projects more quickly, or to support siting and permitting at the state level, the paper suggests.
Ricketts told me that many state utility commissions have the power to do this today, and those that don’t would require just a simple bit of legislation to empower them. New York could become the first to adopt the idea. In June, Governor Kathy Hochul directed the state’s Department of Public Service to consider requiring data centers to invest in a “grid acceleration fund.”
Several states have already levied similar fees on data centers — they just haven’t dedicated the money toward grid upgrades. A new $0.01-per-kilowatt-hour surcharge on loads larger than 100 megawatts in Oregon will fund efficiency and distributed energy projects that reduce costs for residential customers. Virginia enacted a $0.011 per kilowatt-hour data center electricity consumption tax that will raise money for the state’s general fund. It’s expected to generate $600 million per year.
The paper doesn’t pitch the surcharge as a cure-all, nor does it touch the issue of public opposition or federal permitting obstacles. “The surcharge as envisioned and proposed here is pretty modest,” Ricketts told me. “It is trying to attend to a gap, which is like, hey, there's an opportunity here to capture reinvestment into the grid needs that are truly necessary.”
Under the sheet metal it’s basically a Toyota — but maybe that’s okay.
I’ve seen these cupholders before. The same goes for the pair of wireless phone charging mats in this Subaru EV, the wheel that spins to select drive or reverse, and the storage cubby between the driver and shotgun seat with its awkwardly positioned “open” button. Even the big central touchscreen and its software are fundamentally identical to the ones I remember — right down to the navigation system’s voice-activated assistant represented by a weird on-screen bubble.
It’s no coincidence the interior of the new Subaru Trailseeker feels so familiar: I just saw it a couple of months ago while test-driving the Toyota CH-R. The two Japanese carmakers have been co-developing the bones of their electric cars together for several years now. Their dueling lineups of new models are, to a large degree, the same vehicles under the sheet metal: The Toyota CH-R and Subaru Uncharted small crossovers are effectively twins. So, too, are the Subaru Trailseeker I drove this week and the Toyota Bz Woodland, the stretched, outdoorsy version of Toyota’s EV.
Sharing parts and even platforms is nothing new. Car companies have partnered with their rivals in the past to split research and development costs. Subie and Toyota have been following this playbook since the gasoline era; in the 2010s they created a lovely small sports car badged as either the Subaru BRZ or the Scion FR-S (back when Toyota used the Scion brand to sell sportier, more “youthful” cars in America).

But sharing has become a more pressing issue in the era of electric driving, as the legacy car companies look for ways to save money as they spend billions learning how to transition their businesses toward battery power. Honda, the other Japanese auto giant, borrowed the General Motors platform to build the Prologue, its most recent attempt at an EV for America. That car sold competitively with the other non-Tesla EVs in the U.S., demonstrating there were some Honda drivers hungry for their brand to make a new EV. But that approach only got Honda so far. The company’s attempts to build a better EV from the ground up have stalled, and it has now canceled an ambitious slate of planned vehicles.
As for Toyota and Subaru, there is much to be gained from this tactic. If you’re a driver simply pondering whether to switch from the gas-powered Outback to the Trailseeker with your next Subaru purchase, you might not care that electric Subarus are just Toyotas on the inside. Still, sharing technology also raises the question: If a Subaru is just a Toyota under the skin, then is calling the car a Subaru enough for the brand’s devotees? The answer, I think, is a possibly surprising “yes.”
At the simplest level, Subaru’s electric cars do succeed in feeling like distinct vehicles. In this clip, one of Toyota’s lead engineers explains some of the philosophical differences that lead the two companies to build different products on top of the same bones. To simplify: Subaru builds with acceleration and sportiness in mind, while Toyota is more focused on braking and safety.
You can feel the difference. Toyota scales up the power depending on how much you pay, from 168 horsepower in the entry-level Bz to 375 horsepower for the outdoorsy Bz Woodland.

Subaru offers all-wheel-drive and 375 horsepower with every trim level of the Trailseeker, and the car is zippy and eager. The high ground clearance and road trip-ready roof rack certainly makes the EV feel appropriately Subaru. While the other vehicles that came out of this partnership were built at Toyota factories in Japan, Trailseeker (and its Toyota twin) were built at a Subaru factory.
And for a long vehicle with lots of storage space in the back, Trailseeker is pretty efficient. I made a decent 3.5 miles per kilowatt-hour on a highway drive from L.A to Santa Barbara, and the Subaru would top 4 miles per kilowatt-hour at city speeds. That efficiency is important, as it stretches the EV’s real-world range above 250 miles, giving it the legs it needs to visit the far-flung outdoorsy destinations Subaru drivers like to visit.
The trouble with co-development is that Subaru’s EVs, though they are fun and capable vehicles, are stuck with the same problems as Toyota’s. The Subaru also doesn’t feature fun or game-changing EV features like a frunk or one-pedal driving. Owners complain that there’s no way to, say, change the charging maximum to from 80% to 100% once a charging session has started, a simple task that can be accomplished with a tap on a phone app in other vehicles.
The car’s built-in navigation system, meanwhile, can list nearby EV chargers if you know where to ask, but it doesn’t incorporate them into its route planning like a Tesla, Rivian, or even Hyundai would do. This is more annoying than you might think, especially in this muddled moment in charging. Trailseeker, having adopted the Tesla NACS plug that is now becoming the industry standard, can charge at some Superchargers — but Tesla doesn’t allow other brands’ EVs at all of its stations, and you have to check their app to see which are okay. Lots of older third-party charging stations, meanwhile, still use the CCS plug that used to be common on EVs, so you’d need an adapter to plug in the Subaru there. That means that in the Trailseeker, you need either a charging strategy in advance or a co-pilot in the passenger seat checking multiple phone apps for you. (These issues can be solved somewhat by using one’s own apps through Apple CarPlay.)
What the Trailseeker is not, most fundamentally, is a Rivian. When that company teased the R2 and R3 a couple of years ago, we said it had the opportunity to dominate an outdoorsy, all-wheel-drive space in the car market that was more or less vacant because Subaru had dragged its feet on electrifying, having released only the disappointing Solterra. R2 is finally available, and compared to Trailseeker, the Rivian is much closer to the Tesla model of what an EV should be — its interface is far more sophisticated, and foundationally, it just feels so much more like a vehicle that was built from the ground up to be electric, not a car built by a legacy automaker still trying to figure out what an EV should be.
But here’s the thing: A lot of drivers, including plenty of Subaru lifers, don’t want the Tesla model. This Reddit post nicely captures the tension: EV-focused reviewers like me invariably notice what’s missing in a vehicle like Trailseeker compared to other electric cars. When you compare the Subie to gas-powered vehicles, though, you notice what’s there — the basic competencies like off-road ruggedness, roof racks, and honest-to-goodness door handles that make people love Subarus in the first place.
The price doesn’t hurt, either. Trailseeker’s key performance features — all-wheel drive, 375 horsepower, 280 miles of maximum range — are available on the simplest version that starts at $39,995, while the top-of-the-line $46,555 version gets more creature comforts. Toyota doesn’t sell an entry-level version of the Trailseeker’s twin, the Bz Woodland, only a fully-decked out edition that’s more than $45,000. Rivian’s fancier versions of R2, by contrast, cost well into the $50,000, with a $45,000 base model due in 2027.
Trailseeker, in other words, is a reasonably affordable, good EV that just works — and that you can buy at the same dealership across town that sold you your last two Outbacks. Which is all a lot of Subaru drivers ever really wanted.
Current conditions: The Pacific is facing a traffic jam of storms, with Hurricane Karina, Tropical Storm Lowell, and Tropical Storm Marie all raging at once • Temperatures in Charlotte, North Carolina, America’s secondary banking capital after New York, are nearing 100 degrees Fahrenheit amid a regionwide heatwave • Tropical Storm Edouard knocked out power from more than 81,000 households in Texas and Louisiana.
Call it the scramble for Caracas. For the first time since the dawn of the 21st century, the South American nation with the world’s largest known oil reserves is open for business to Americans. Eight months after U.S. forces arrested former dictator Nicolás Maduro in his home and Washington backed his vice president, Delcy Rodriguez, as the new leader, Venezuela is becoming a hotbed for American energy companies. On Wednesday, Chevron announced plans to double its production in Venezuela with a $7 billion investment. “We were trying to work at what I call Trump speed,” Secretary of Energy Chris Wright said at a signing ceremony at the Miraflores Palace, according to The Wall Street Journal. “President Trump didn’t want a nudge or a slow drift in a positive direction. He wanted to see as fast as possible a transformation in Venezuela.”
The energy equipment behemoth GE Vernova, meanwhile, inked its own deal to repair large portions of Venezuela’s power grid, Bloomberg reported.

U.S. exports of liquified natural gas averaged 17.4 billion cubic feet per day in the first six months of this year, 23% more than the same period in 2025, according to the latest analysis by the U.S. Energy Information Administration. The agency projected that overseas sales will mostly stay flat through the end of the year before rising to 18.7 billion cubic feet per day in the first half of 2027. The world demands lots of gas right now. The biggest impediment to selling more is capacity. New and expanded export terminals “boosted LNG exports at the fastest rate since the United States began large-scale exports in 2016,” EIA found.
While natural gas and gasoline are different fuels entirely, the boom in the export market for one has come during a domestic price surge for the other. Diesel is selling for $5.69 per gallon, according to AAA data. Regular gas is now averaging $4.12 per gallon nationwide. But diesel is particularly worrying. As my colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote last month, “now is the worst time for diesel to get expensive,” since it’s a critical moment in farmers’ growing seasons when tractors and other equipment need fuel.
The fashion industry, particularly the cheaply-made fast-fashion brands, are notorious for pollution. Typically that comes in the form of dyed rivers and microplastics from polyester fibers. But the planet-heating gases coming from the apparel sector are on the rise. Emissions climbed 6.3% in 2024, following a 7.5% spike the previous year, according to a new report by the Apparel Impact Institute. That, according to Bloomberg, increased fashion’s emissions by roughly a gigaton, or “about the same as the entire climate footprint of Japan.”
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SB Energy, the division of the Japanese giant Softbank that’s focused on building the infrastructure for artificial intelligence, is seeing such a boom it’s going public. Chip behemoth Nvidia is backing the deal to start trading the stock on the Nasdaq. “The reason Nvidia is on our part of the equation here is that, you know, helps us to unlock things like investment-grade financing. It helps to ensure the project is a success,” SB Energy CEO Rich Hossfeld told CNBC.
Still, the company cautioned that it “may face community opposition, local moratoria, and hyper-local dissent, including growing public resistance to AI and AI-related infrastructure.” Polling from Heatmap Pro last month showed that three-quarters of Americans now oppose data centers in their backyards.
To put it in the modern parlance of today’s youth: Japan’s nuclear sector used to mog most of its peers in East Asia. When the 2011 Fukushima accident occurred, Japan got the ick on atomic energy. Now it’s once again ascending to nuclear maxing — er, nuclearmaxxing. On Wednesday, NucNet reported that a high-level Japanese council chaired by the prime minister adopted a new policy that calls for “maximum use” of atomic energy in the country.
Russia, meanwhile, is leaning into floating nuclear power plants. The country launched the world’s first small modular reactor in 2019 aboard the Akademik Lomonosov, a Siberia-bound barge designed to carry a power plant. In May, I told you that Rosatom was considering building more. On Wednesday, World Nuclear News reported that the Kremlin-controlled nuclear company is establishing a facility specifically designed to produce floating nuclear plants.
Maersk is going old school. The shipping giant just signed a deal to install the first wind sail on a container ship as the shipping industry looks for ways to get off heavily-emitting bunker fuel. The sail, according to the Financial Times, is a 115-foot rotor designed by the British company Anemoi to function without taking up a lot of space in the areas where containers go.