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Unpriced risk undermined the global economy during the financial crisis of 2008. Today, researchers say unpriced physical climate risk will lead to rapid declines in property values — and point out that this is already happening in some Florida markets. They often compare what’s happening now to the run-up to 2008. If the analogy holds, we will likely see disruption in other related financial structures. In particular, as the physical reality of climate change begins to have an effect on the attractiveness of bonds in risky areas, the ability of local governments to raise money to adapt to rapidly changing climate conditions may be undercut.
But comparing the effect of the 2008 unpriced risk on the municipal bond market with the potential effects of physical climate risk shows the suffering will likely be much greater this time. Today, there’s a direct, rather than indirect, connection between risk and public finance markets.
The solution? Last week, Tom Doe, CEO and founder of Municipal Market Analytics, said cities should act now to raise as much money as possible for adaptation before the municipal bond market starts pricing in physical climate risk. It’s only going to get more expensive later, in his view.
During the 2008 collapse, issuers of municipal bonds suffered. According to the final report on the crisis, New York State was stuck making suddenly skyrocketing interest payments to investors — the rate went from about 3.5% to more than 14% — on $4 billion of its debt. The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey’s interest rate went from 4.3% to 20% in a single week. Investors who had bought municipal bonds in auctions suffered too, because the pool of new buyers dried up very quickly in early 2008.
Since then, the muni market has bounced back in a big way, with professional investment managers urging tax-avoidant retail investors to buy individual bonds through separately managed accounts rather than through a mutual bond fund or an exchange-traded fund. Most people think $500 billion in bond issues is likely in 2025, and the group of buyers has a seemingly unending appetite for what they perceive to be safe and highly liquid investments — essentially the equivalent of money market accounts that promise federal tax-free interest payments.
But the risks now posed by physical climate change to municipal bond issuers and investors are different and likely greater than they were in 2008. The last time around, the municipal bond market suffered because of a domino effect — the insurance companies the issuers were using were exposed to mortgage risk.
According to the Financial Crisis Inquiry Report, so-called “monoline” insurers (writing policies for single financial structures rather than a broad array of products) had gotten into the mortgage-backed securities business, issuing a boatload of guarantees covering more than $250 billion of these structured products. The CEO of one of these monoline businesses, Alan Roseman of ACA, said, “We never expected losses. ... We were providing hedges on market volatility to institutional counterparties.” In other words, ACA believed its risk was limited because it wasn’t directly investing in the underlying assets — that its risk was limited to ups and downs in the market value of the mortgage-backed securities. But when the value of huge numbers of mortgage-backed securities plunged as the credit rating agencies woke up and repriced the risk of the subprime mortgages buried within them, ACA and other insurers were faced with stunning losses.
Those same insurers (MBIA, ACA, Ambac) were then substantially downgraded. And they hadn’t been insuring only mortgage-backed securities — they were also insuring municipal bonds and “auction rate securities” based on those bonds, structures that allowed local governments to borrow money at variable interest rates. When the insurance companies froze up because of the sudden repricing of mortgage-backed securities and their guarantees became worthless, the auction markets froze, as well. As a result, issuers of muni bonds (and investors in them) suffered.
In other words, in 2008, it was risk in a different financial arena — mortgage-backed securities guaranteed by insurance companies — that slopped over and caused problems for municipal bonds. By contrast, when it comes to physical climate change today, the municipal bond market is directly exposed to the central risk: Will the communities that effectively guarantee these bonds continue to be viable? Will these communities be insurable? Will community property values and thus property taxes suddenly decline?
Not only that, the 2008 risk was different because it could be eventually unwound. Property markets could get going again, as they have in spades. This time, deterioration of the underlying asset — the communities themselves — will likely be irreversible. Chronic flooding will not cease on any human-relevant time scale.
Issuers are not being penalized — yet — for the physical climate risk facing their communities, according to Tom Doe’s conversation with Will Compernolle on the latter’s Simply Put podcast last week. “This risk is not being priced in,” Doe said. “There’s no evidence of that right now. And in addition, the rating agencies have not reflected [physical risk] in their letter scoring of credit risk … so there is not a ratings penalty right now. There’s not a pricing penalty.”
Doe’s suggestion is that local governments may want to get out there and raise as much money as they can for adaptation. “State and local governments who are in harm’s way that need to do this can go to the market right now, and investors are not penalizing them. The market is not. So this is essentially cheap money if they issue [bonds] for these projects today,” Doe said.
That’s one way of looking at the situation. Public money for adaptation is cheap, there’s a lot of it potentially available, and it is much less expensive to raise that money now than it will be once the credit rating agencies and the investors start pricing in physical risk and demanding higher interest payments in exchange for the use of their cash.
It’s a race against time: Eventually, as in 2008, the mispriced risk will be correctly assessed. This time, unlike the last crisis, the harm to the underlying assets will be permanent.
A version of this article originally appeared in the author’s newsletter, Moving Day, and has been repurposed for Heatmap.
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The two economic booms resemble each other somewhat. But data centers have a far more dire PR problem.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
In Pennsylvania, the governor required data center developers to comply with new restrictions. Texas began its mandatory audit for grid-connected data centers. And Nebraska limited tax incentives for data centers and started a new task force.
In Wisconsin’s governor race, candidates began posturing over who will treat data centers the toughest; in Michigan’s Senate race, the GOP candidate Mike Rogers called for a statewide moratorium on them. A Politico analysis found that of the more than 100 campaign ads mentioning data centers this election, none have put the technology in a positive light.
It makes sense, then, that when Heatmap published its most recent polling on data centers — finding that 75% of Americans oppose their local development — it seemed to blow up. But there’s one aspect of that polling that I want to discuss here, because I think it has been underacknowledged.
It’s this: According to our polling, data centers are about as unpopular in urban areas as rural areas. They’re slightly less unpopular in the suburbs.
The differences in disapproval, to be clear, aren’t enormous. Local data center development is 63 points underwater in rural areas and 60 points underwater in urban areas. That’s close enough to our poll’s 2.3% margin of error that it may just be noise. Even in the suburbs, data center development is 58 points underwater — a small distinction.
But it represents a big shift from the political geography of recent decades, where cities and rural areas have tended to disagree profoundly over policy. Since the 2000 election or so, cities have elected Democrats, rural areas have picked Republicans, and then the parties have fought over the suburbs.
Data centers, however, appear to unite these two partisan bases against some of the country’s largest companies — and some of our political systems’ odder ducks. Heatmap’s polling earlier this year found that AI YIMBYs tend to be urban, largely Trump-voting men who are optimistic about technology. And in March, the Republican pollster Echelon Insights found that some of data centers’ biggest fans were MAGA Republicans with graduate degrees living in cities.
These results help explain why Republicans have suddenly turned on a dime against data centers: Their base has rejected it. As a political reporter friend put it to me, after looking at our data, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a trend that’s uniting college-educated and non-college-educated Americans.
In trying to understand this transition, I’ve tried to think about other technologies that have undergone similar investment booms in recent American history. One oft-made comparison is fracking, which expanded quickly across the country in the 2010s. Many commentators — myself included — have suggested that data centers may follow fracking’s example, where blue states ban a new type of economic activity and red states welcome it. The red (and sometimes purple) states then get to reap much of the resulting economic growth — and the tax receipts — while everyone has to deal with the emissions. The revelation that data centers are driving a new natural gas boom only deepens the link.
But there’s one big problem with that analogy: Fracking was never this unpopular. While fracking has rarely commanded a large majority of support among the mass public, its popular nadir came in spring 2020, when 60% of Americans told Pew that they opposed an expansion of fracking. (Its popularity began to recover after President Biden took office — a classic case of thermostatic public opinion.)
In every poll that we could find at Heatmap, too, expanding fracking always commanded a majority of Republican support. Throughout the 2010s and 2020s, rank-and-file Republicans have wanted to “drill, baby, drill.” But they don’t seem to want to “compute, baby, compute.” And that means — among other things — energy and climate analysts like me need to find another analogy.
Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”