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The U.S. is too enmeshed in the global financial system for the rest of the world to solve climate change without us.

The United States is now staring down the barrel of what amounts to a full repeal of the Inflation Reduction Act’s energy tax credits and loan authorities. Not even the House Republicans who vocally defended the law, in the end, voted against President Trump’s “One Big, Beautiful Bill.” To be sure, there’s no final outcome yet — leading Republican senators don’t seem satisfied with the bill headed their way, and energy sector lobbyists are ready to push harder. But the fact that House Republicans were willing to walk away from billions of dollars of public spending for their districts and perhaps $1 trillion worth of economic growth is a flashing red sign that Trump’s politics have capsized the once-watertight argument that the IRA would be too important to American businesses and communities to be destroyed.
The Biden Administration touted the IRA as the United States’ marquee investment not just in reducing emissions and promoting economic development, but also in bringing back American manufacturing to compete against China in the market for advanced technologies. The Trump administration takes this apparent conflict with China seriously ― the threat of economic decoupling looms large ― but seems to have no desire to compete the way the Biden administration did. Rather than commit to the solar, wind, battery, grid, and electric vehicle investments that are laying the foundation for a manufacturing revival, the Trump administration has doubled down on the conjoined ideas that America should be self-sufficient and should play to its strengths: critical minerals, nuclear, natural gas, and even coal. Never mind that Trump’s tariff policy and his party’s deep cuts to energy-related spending will stop these plans, too, in their tracks. “Energy dominance” has always been a smokescreen ― of fossil fuels, by fossil fuels, for fossil fuels.
While Republicans attempt to shut down America’s entire scientific research apparatus, the rest of the world moves on. The demise of the Inflation Reduction Act would decisively surrender the global market for all types of commercialized clean energy sources (and nuclear energy, too) to Chinese companies. Chinese companies already dominate the input sectors for these technologies, whether it’s processing and refining mineral products such as polysilicon, gallium, and graphite, or producing infrastructure commodities such as steel and aluminum. The end of Biden’s climate and infrastructure laws will also leave the American car industry in the dust, as the rest of the world shifts gears toward purchasing more efficient and cheaper electric vehicles ― particularly Chinese brands such as BYD. (Ford’s CEO drives a Xiaomi electric vehicle and “doesn’t want to give it up.”) Consider it a sign of the times that Ethiopia recently banned the import of gas-powered vehicles. Electrification is in, combustion is burnt out.
It’s not just China that benefits. In November, the Net Zero Industrial Policy Lab at Johns Hopkins estimated that the repeal of the IRA leaves up to $80 billion in clean technology manufacturing investment opportunities for other countries to seize between now and 2032, the law’s intended sunset year. Those countries aren’t just the likely (read: wealthier) suspects such as Japan, South Korea, or the European Union. The abdication of U.S. leadership would also boost electric vehicle and battery manufacturing capacity in Morocco, Mexico, India, Indonesia, and elsewhere across Southeast Asia; solar power-related manufacturing further across Southeast Asia; and wind power-related manufacturing in Brazil, Mexico, South Africa, India, and Canada.
These countries won’t just benefit from investors looking to build outside the United States. A Trump-induced fall in American imports of these technologies and their inputs may also drive some degree of global disinflation, insofar as these countries can secure input goods no longer flowing into the American market at cheaper prices. The writing has been on the wall since the early Biden administration that failing to invest meant investing in failure. This is what the Trump administration is poised to do, to the detriment of American technological capabilities and standards of living.
Just because the United States might be dropping out of the race for global decarbonization, however, does not mean that the rest of the world can choose to ignore the United States in return. The Trump administration can still play spoiler with every other country’s efforts to decarbonize ― even China’s ― for one overarching reason: the mighty dollar. The United States may be hemorrhaging the political capital that coordinating the energy transition requires, but it still controls the currency of decarbonization itself.
It’s hard to overstate how central the management of the U.S. dollar is to the management of global decarbonization. Let’s sketch out some of the key dynamics. First, the dollar is the world’s primary trade currency. Because most global trade is denominated and invoiced in dollars, fluctuations in the value of the dollar relative to the value of other currencies will affect the price of importing both essential commodities and capital goods in other countries. Any volatility in the prices of oil, critical minerals, food, or machinery ― including the inputs to energy systems ― is most likely measured in a currency that every other country needs to earn through trade or borrow from investors. Efforts to denominate commodity trade in other currencies, such as the Chinese renminbi, are not likely to scale up rapidly, however, thanks to the network effect of the dollar system: Market actors will only ditch the dollar if most of their counterparties do.
Second, then, the dollar is the world’s dominating financial currency. Countries seeking foreign investment must issue debt at rates and on terms that foreign investors, many of whom measure their returns in dollars, judge as safe relative to the returns on U.S. Treasury bonds, conventionally the world’s premier “safe asset.” How the U.S. Federal Reserve moves interest rates influences how every other central bank does; higher rates in the U.S. usually push up Treasury bond yields and, as other central banks also raise rates or stockpile dollars, make borrowing for investment and for refinancing debt more expensive across the whole world ― particularly for large-scale energy and adaptation infrastructure projects. The U.S. Federal Reserve also manages the dollar swap lines and repurchase (or “repo”) facilities that provide dollar liquidity to the rest of the world during a financial crisis, as in the Great Recession and the subsequent Eurozone financial crisis, or a sudden dollar cash shortage, as in 2019.
Finally, the United States maintains a comprehensive sanctions regime that operates through cross-border dollar payments systems and “clearing-house” facilities such as SWIFT, which processes interbank payments, and CHIPS, which handles over 90% of all dollar-denominated transactions globally. When the United States wants to cut target companies and whole countries out of the dollar financial system, it prevents SWIFT from processing targeted entities’ cross-border transactions and U.S.-based financial institutions from accepting them.
The Obama administration and first Trump administration used U.S. control over SWIFT and CHIPS to administer sanctions against Iran, and the Biden administration did the same to Russia. The U.S. Departments of Treasury and Commerce also administer what’s known as a “secondary sanctions” regime that imposes these financial penalties on unrelated third-parties that violate initial sanctions. And the Department of Commerce enforces export controls that restrict technology transfer to foreign targets. The Biden administration combined these authorities to limit the ability of both U.S. and foreign companies to export certain technologies to targeted Chinese companies.
Perhaps ironically, some of these dynamics don’t bite the way they used to during the Biden administration, when the dollar was expensive relative to other currencies. Trump’s inflationary and growth-destroying budget, trigger-happy tariffs, and neglect of the fracking sector have driven a sharp depreciation in the dollar and destabilized the market for U.S. Treasury debt. Some cuts to U.S. interest rates are likely given the elevated probability of a recession. All of these factors ― undeniably a bad look for the United States ― should support emerging market financial conditions by lowering the cost of commodity imports, raising the attractiveness of sovereign debt to foreign investors, and help stave off potential debt crises.
But easier global financial conditions in the short term do not diminish the threat the Trump administration continues to pose to global economic stability. The danger that the Trump administration expands the American sanctions regime implemented via the global dollar invoicing system and export controls remains undiminished. What’s more, the tension between the president and Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell should alert foreign central banks that their access to the American dollar liquidity facilities is ultimately contingent on the Federal Reserve’s independence from Trump’s influence. During the first Trump administration, the European Union and China alike started strategizing how to derisk their dependence on the dollar; U.S. policymakers should not be surprised if those governments are now dusting off those playbooks.
The dollar’s dominance is in part an effect of the gargantuan size of the U.S. consumer market. Trump’s tariff threats had governments across the world scrambling to cut deals with the United States to preserve their market access ― including by promising to purchase U.S. natural gas.
The view outside the U.S. seems to be that there is no easy replacement for the U.S. consumer. As the Australian Strategic Policy Institute put it, “US household spending in 2023 reached $19 trillion, double the level of the European Union and almost three times that of China. … there are no obvious markets to replace [U.S. consumers].” Indian journalist M. Rajshekhar notes that China, too, needs external markets to absorb its products, and that it cannot count on other Global South countries to let Chinese goods flood their markets. Americans are the motor that keeps the global economy spinning.
The inability to sell goods to the United States is a threat to decarbonization abroad not just because it gives Trump an avenue to hawk natural gas, but also because U.S. consumer spending provides the world with a source of the dollars with which decarbonization is financed in the first place. And to the extent that the IRA would have supported U.S. consumer demand for clean energy technologies and electric vehicles, its de facto repeal ― while a source of potential disinflation for Global South producers ― snuffs out a key demand signal for the production of inputs to those sectors across the Global South.
Where the Global South’s clean energy transition is concerned, natural gas unfortunately remains an important alternative to coal in the absence of widespread renewable energy deployment. The U.S. is the world’s largest exporter of liquified natural gas, the use of which has doubled since 2009 as global demand for the fuel rose sharply. Countries across Europe and Asia depend on U.S. gas for domestic power and industrial uses ― particularly after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Large energy importing countries like India increasingly rely on gas to meet energy demand spikes. Over the longer term, industry leaders expect LNG demand to rise 60% by 2040, particularly on the back of persistent Asian demand. Although planned U.S. LNG export capacity is already on track to double between now and 2028, the Trump administration is supporting the buildout of even more capacity to meet this expected global demand.
Becoming dependent on “molecules of U.S. freedom” for industrial growth and for transitioning off of coal may once have seemed like a smart decision across emerging markets, particularly when prices were lower. But it has now left dependent Global South countries uniquely vulnerable to energy import price and power market shocks caused by erratic U.S. policy and volatile (dollar-denominated) natural gas prices. Will the gas-dependent countries in Europe and Asia be able to access enough Chinese imports, invest sufficiently in local clean technology, and kick their LNG fix in time to meet their emissions reduction goals? Europe might; for the rest, this question is one worth following over the coming years.
The truth is that the United States has always had a unique opportunity to weaponize these aspects of dollar dominance in the interest of playing global spoilsport. As Chen Chris Gong, a researcher at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research, argues in her forthcoming (not yet peer-reviewed) paper on “The geoeconomics of transitioning to the post-fossil world,” Global South countries have an urgent reason to decarbonize built into their politics, whether their governments recognize it or not. So long as much of the Global South is dependent on imported fossil fuels for energy, “local people’s livelihood and firms’ survival are made vulnerable to compound cycles of dollar capital flow and cycles of basic commodity trade.” If the Global South cannot fully avoid the United States, their governments can at least sidestep it. Countries powered by clean energy, importing less fuel, and generating their own power are far more insulated from the dollar cycle and the dollar system, simple as that.
In contrast, as Gong highlights, the only incentives for the United States to pursue decarbonization come from the pressure of competing with China ― a competition that Republicans, for all their bluster, may not actually want to win ― or the pressure of mass consumer demand for a clean economy ― for which Democrats are not exactly fighting tooth and nail ― and the profits both promise. It’s darkly funny that the Inflation Reduction Act’s defenders are seizing on these exact reasons in their attempts to protect the law in the Senate when neither sufficiently moved House Republicans to reconsider.
For posterity, then, we should add another reason, even if it won’t convince Republicans to change tack: The looming repeal of the Inflation Reduction Act portends a future where Trump and his Republican party happily use their control over the global economy to drag the rest of the world down with the United States. “Energy dominance” may always have been formless bluster, but the United States’ financial dominance remains sharp enough to cut ― if not global emissions, then global standards of living.
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What 700 math problems say about the AI economy’s biggest open question
This is Heatmap Daily, an evening news digest written by our executive editor. Subscribe here.
Happy Monday and welcome back.
It’s been a big weekend: I’m fairly certain Saturday Night Live mentioned Heatmap’s data center polling in one of its Weekend Update segments over the weekend. Watch here.
There are 22 days to the midterm elections here in the United States. We’ll soon enter that pre-election wormhole where only national politics can break through. So today I wanted to look at a story that might, on its face, seem like it has nothing to do with climate or energy. And warning: It’s a little bit of a weird one.
Last week, OpenAI released what it described as the solution to more than 700 open problems in mathematics. Many of the problems, such as the Quasi-Riemann hypothesis, had gone unsolved for decades. Some of the solutions came with proofs written in the programming language Lean.
The release made a stir in part because OpenAI had reached the solutions by using an internal model — that is, a version of ChatGPT not yet open to the general public. In a statement, the Association for Human Mathematics lambasted OpenAI for using an internal model to do research, violating what it described as a precept of AI-driven math research. (I’ve since seen speculation that OpenAI may not have even meant to solve the problems, but gave them to the internal model as a test … and then got the answers.) It’s also not clear whether all of OpenAI’s 700 solutions are correct — in many cases the proofs are so intricate that mathematicians are still wrapping their heads around them.
“There are some sad stories related to their users getting scooped [and] conflicts of interest,” Levent Alpöge, a mathematician at Anthropic, posted on X. “It’s obviously the most significant moment in mathematical history.”
On Friday night, the UCLA mathematician Terence Tao gave a pre-planned lecture at Caltech about what he called “Math 2.0”; it considered the revolution the field had seemingly undergone in the previous few days. (He posted the slides to his blog over the weekend, and I’m using them to summarize his talk here.) For most of math’s history, he said, the field operated under “proof scarcity,” in which finding a solution to an open math problem and confirming it as true was “difficult and rare,” requiring “significant human expertise.”
But AI, it has turned out, is well suited to solving math problems. This is partly because math, like the large language models themselves, is entirely conceptual, so confirming a proof as true requires no recourse to the physical. But it’s also because math’s solutions are “objectively verifiable”: “There is broad consensus on what constitutes a correct and complete proof of a given problem,” and thanks to the existence of proof programming languages like Lean, they can even be checked by computer.
The end result is that math is now entering a world of “proof abundance,” he said.
That is, perhaps surprisingly, a problem for math’s practitioners, and it will mandate a new intellectual regime for the discipline. Mathematicians have often used open problems as “lighthouses,” Tao wrote, “not destinations to be reached … but useful guides to explore the mathematical landscape.” Mathematicians often learn more in the solving than in the solution, in other words. But if mathematicians can now generate shortcuts to math problems without knowing how they got there, or even how the problem works, then actual human mathematical understanding will suffer. (One way to understand this is that mathematicians are now dealing with the same problem that math teachers have faced since the invention of the pocket calculator: How do you confirm students actually understand the material? Except the world’s most elite mathematicians themselves are the students in question.)
This disconnect can pose its own AI alignment problems, Tao said, analogizing math to pharmaceuticals. Suppose an advanced AI found what appears to be a cure for cancer that can pass a stage 3 clinical trial: “After a large amount of compute, it produces a cocktail of previously unknown chemicals which it claims, when mixed and injected into a patient, will kill all their cancer cells,” he said. It even generates a programmatic proof of the cocktail’s effectiveness.
“Before injecting this cocktail into your bloodstream,” he asked, “would you find it reassuring to know that there is at least one human cancer expert who understands — even partially — the mechanism behind this cure?” If not, you can see mathematicians’ problem, confronted by a surfeit of proofs that seem to work, but nobody who can explain how or why they do.
Now, Tao’s analogy is somewhat peculiar because something like this actually does happen all the time in medicine: Doctors still don’t fully understand how many drugs work, including acetaminophen, SSRIs, and lithium. (That said, those compounds were identified by trial and error, not by a mechanical superintelligence.) But the broader situation that Tao is painting — as well as the crisis posed by OpenAI’s 700 proofs — get at a significant question with economic importance far beyond just math: Will AI solve the economy’s secular attention shortage or worsen it?
This question has greater import than it may seem — but let me qualify what I mean by “attention shortage.” Writing in 1971, the economist Herber Simon observed the sudden superabundance of information that had exploded in every economic domain. There were more facts, data, news articles, and opportunities than any individual or organization knew what to do with. He pointed out that this newfound “wealth” of information implied an insufficiency of something else: attention.
“What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients,” he wrote in Designing Organizations for an Information-Rich World. “Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it.”
He wrote this, of course, well before the advent of internet, smartphones, sensors, or networked cameras — all of which have worsened the problem. But in the ensuing half century, the economy has learned to deal (or at least intermittently manage) this secular scarcity of attention. Much of what we now call knowledge work is devoted to filtering, siphoning, processing, and otherwise attending to the information superabundance.
AI is, in theory, supposed to help address this same set of problems. AI is commodified attention — or, at least, that is its promise. (The most important machine learning paper of the past decade, after all, is entitled “Attention Is All You Need.”) Many AI products, such as Meta’s Muse, now want you to believe that by ceding control of your email, your calendar, your restaurant reservations, and your digital life to AI, you will gain an attentional edge. The AI will do the grunt-work of attending to boring things for you, and you will feel less overwhelmed. If this vision comes true, the economy’s mismatch of information and attention will prove to be a short-lived historical blip.
But the past week of math news and Tao’s “Math 2.0” regime suggest a different scenario is more likely, at least in the immediate near term. By allowing far faster and more automated information production, AI will create a new, more vicious, and even more abstract form of information overload. Every profession and intellectual discipline will be overwhelmed with new papers, ideas, observations, proofs, or choices. Yet the human understanding required to convert this new information into useful action will become even more scarce. In such a world, AI will not solve the economy’s attention shortage, but worsen it.
I’m not sure which world would be worse for humanity, to be candid. One world suggests the eventual automation of all human effort. But in Tao’s world, many of us might still have jobs — they will just involve even more filtering, sorting, and processing of an ever-deepening pile of automated idea generation than we do today.
And what is the connection to climate and energy? One easy connection might be to the permitting process: If you think a new transit line (at the local level) or transmission line (at the state or federal level) could be overwhelmed with procedural concerns 10 years ago, wait until you see what happens when information itself can be mechanically produced. But that is only one example of a more general problem. Soon, if not already, any process of providing input to an important policy question — on energy, decarbonization, or anything else — will be overwhelmed with facially high-quality analysis. It will be left to policy officials and elected leaders to sort through it.
This past weekend’s storms caused flooding and property damage up and down the coast — and it’s going to get worse.
California has around 3,400 miles of shoreline, ranging from the wild, foggy beaches of the North Coast to the sunbather-studded sands of Orange and San Diego counties. That’s a whole lot of border to share with the Pacific Ocean, especially when the water is as hot and tempestuous a neighbor as it is right now.
Just ask the city of Long Beach, which this weekend was on the receiving end of some Super El Niño mischief. Swells from the storm briefly dubbed Hurricane Rachel “annihilated” beachfront mansions and flooded city streets, causing pieces of the local boardwalk to “shred away.” “It’s never happened like this before,” one resident of 64 years told the New York Post.
But while things might look bad in California at the moment, they can still get much worse. One disaster modeler recently estimated the state could see as much as $3 billion in flooding and mudslide-related losses alone this winter — not to mention coastal erosion, king tides, and storm swell. Governor Gavin Newsom declared a state of emergency at the end of September, while many cities, including San Diego, have declared their own local emergencies.
El Niño will likely peak in December, meaning that towns and cities across the state have just a few remaining weeks to finalize projects, whether that means improving drainage in landslide-prone environments such as Rancho Palos Verdes or distributing NOAA weather radios in areas likely to lose power, as emergency managers are in Santa Cruz. The approaching winter storms, combined with El Niño, represent “a humbling reminder of the ongoing effects of climate change and the importance of emergency preparedness,” Laath Martin, the public affairs lead for the city of Long Beach, wrote to me in an email.
El Niño is a cyclical phenomenon, occurring when temperatures in a particular stretch of the Pacific Ocean rise half-a-degree Celsius above the average of the preceding 30 years. But there are signs these natural variations are happening less predictably because of climate change, and we know for sure that a warmer atmosphere makes the baseline for its impacts worse: king tides, Kelvin waves, and storm surge piggyback on top of rising sea levels to result in more severe coastal flooding and erosion. A warmer atmosphere also holds more water, which means more rain — perhaps 200% above normal — which, in turn, results in flooding and mudslides further inland, as well.
“Based on what I am seeing now, I am officially concerned,” Daniel Swain, a climate scientist at the University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources, said last week after reviewing the latest outlook. There’s a reason this year’s El Niño is being called a Godzilla.
In general, the weather pattern causes the jet stream to shift south in the winter, bringing wetter and snowier conditions to the lower U.S. while the northern part of the country stays drier and mild. (It’s also responsible for a weaker Atlantic hurricane season, as we’ve already seen this year.) In addition to El Niño-driven Kelvin waves, warm bulges of water that raise the sea level on the coast by as much as 18 inches, the state of California — and particularly southern California — sits directly in a storm track that will deliver “atmospheric rivers” of heavy rain to a region prone to landslides and flash floods.
In many parts of the state, that rain will test the best-made plans in addition to plans deferred. In Los Angeles, the Department of Sanitation and Environment, or LASAN, has told the City Council it has concerns about the ability of the aging wastewater pipes and plants to handle heavy rainfall associated with a supercharged El Niño. In San Diego, which requires some $3.3 billion to upgrade what is in some places a century-old wastewater system, emergency managers are preparing to work with what they have by clearing debris and brush that could back up in the drains, CalMatters reports. In both cases, the time required for systemwide repairs far exceeds the time remaining before the winter’s supercharged atmospheric rivers are due to arrive. (Rezende told me inland flooding affects more businesses and residents in San Diego than coastal flooding, since the population in the city is set further back from the coastline.)
The city of Roseville, northeast of Sacramento, by contrast, is leaning on decades of flood planning to get through the season. After a series of back-to-back storms in 1986 that killed 13 people and caused $400 million in damage, the city and FEMA invested $39 million to upgrade Roseville’s infrastructure, including widening streams and adding levees and stormwater bypass channels. With more accurate floodplain modeling that has “helped keep new construction at higher elevations,” Helen Dyda, the city manager’s public information officer told me that “less than 7% of the city is within a floodplain” today. Dyda added that the city prepares for winter storms every year — it has some 160 miles of creek shoreline, after all — but that the El Niño-specific preparations are, as a result, more similar to routine maintenance: “clearing more dense vegetation and fallen trees from key creek areas.”
Long Beach is caught somewhere in the middle. After swells from Hurricanes Marie and Polo hammered the city in September, Long Beach hastily developed a seven-point plan to strengthen its peninsula in the near and long term. It will also begin a $11.4 million dredging project this fall that will place 415,000 cubic yards of sand on the beach as a buffer zone. “While this effort will achieve a much-desired result, it will not stop the ocean from pulling sand from the peninsula with every wave, especially during the significant weather systems Long Beach continues to experience,” Martin, the city’s public affairs lead, wrote to me. “Back-passing will need to continue to return sand back to the peninsula each day until more permanent, long-term man-made and environmental solutions can be identified, permitted and implemented.”
In certain cities, preparations for the peak of El Niño overlap with ongoing repairs from the last bad storm season. In Santa Cruz County, the 2016 El Niño caused an estimated $9 million in damage, while many in the community of Pajaro are still recovering from the flood damage caused by a series of severe atmospheric rivers in 2023. “We have a list of hazards that the city is vulnerable to, and we plan for all of them not individually, but all together,” Meredith Albert, Santa Cruz’s emergency management manager, told me. She added that many of the city’s preparedness activities and El Niño initiatives, like urging the community to be prepared to spend 72 hours unsupported, overlap with other disasters it works year-round to prepare for, like earthquakes, landslides, and wildfires.
“El Niño turns up the volume a little bit, but it doesn’t necessarily change our hazard landscape,” is how Albert put it to me.
Santa Cruz has not declared a local state of emergency, and Albert told me they won’t until they “run out of resources.” Other cities, like San Diego, have declared one preemptively. “In the past, you’d have to go through a longer review if you wanted to make some headway on projects, and sometimes that would take many weeks or many months of permitting,” Rezende said. “With a state of emergency, we streamline that process and get projects in the queue.”
Both Rezende and Albert told me the governor's statewide emergency declaration mostly helps state agencies position themselves for a faster response or has implications for higher-level permitting processes. (In Carlsbad, for example, which has seven miles of badly eroding beach, just one mile is controlled by the city; the other six are managed by the State Parks.) The state has also teamed up with ICEYE, a satellite imaging company, to receive information about flooding even in the dark or through rain clouds.
No state of emergency, though, can make it so a city can replace a century-old sewer system by Christmas or reengineer a beach by the time January’s storms begin to make landfall. But if a Godzilla analogy fits the onslaught of a super El Niño, it also offers a classic disaster-movie lesson on how to survive it.
Albert’s advice for how to prepare? Ask a neighbor for a cup of sugar. Take their dog for a walk. Build a relationship that could prevent a tragedy. “We know that our city will be cut off for at least a couple of days,” she told me of a hypothetical major disaster, referring back to Santa Cruz’s experience after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, which cut off the city’s power, communication, and supply lines. “And we also know that we can’t build those relationships during the disaster. We’re trying to build them before.”
The city is doing a lot to prepare for the storm, she said. “But the question is also, what are all of us doing?” Albert went on. “You know better than I do, at the city level, who’s not going to receive that alert,” whether that be an elderly or unhoused neighbor or a nonnative English speaker who might not receive or understand emergency communications.
“Check in on a neighbor” is easier said than done — active engagement and connection to one’s community is trending downward in most parts of the U.S. But the people and places that bounce back from disaster and tragedy are almost uniformly the ones that look after each other. Borrowing a cup of sugar, to this introvert, sounds like a nightmare. But there’s never been a better time than a Godzilla El Niño to bake a poorly resourced cake.
Heatmap News is looking for an ambitious, energetic senior editor to join our growing newsroom.
The senior editor will report to the deputy editor of the website and will be tasked with assisting in running all aspects of our coverage. This individual will be the primary editor on many of the site’s stories, including breaking news, features, and long-term projects, on topics ranging from permitting reform to decarbonized fuels to greenhouse gas accounting to the electric vehicle market. This person will also play a role in overseeing and furthering our cross-platform efforts such as newsletters, events, and podcasts. Additional duties will include managing and maintaining the site’s social media presence and digital production on stories, newsletters, and podcasts.
Candidates should be intellectually curious news junkies with a deep interest in climate change and the energy transition. They should have a proven ability to work in a fast-paced digital newsroom, spot great angles, line edit stories, and change hats quickly as needed. They should also be responsible, reliable, and a good colleague.
Candidates should have 5+ years experience editing for a digital publication. A background in climate or energy coverage is an obvious plus, but compelling candidates from other verticals, particularly politics and business, will also be considered. Heatmap is a fully remote workplace, so candidates from all U.S. locales are encouraged to apply.
Above all, candidates should be passionate about Heatmap’s mission and absolutely thrilled about building something from the ground up.
The salary minimum is $100,000 and the maximum is $120,000. Competitive benefits, unlimited paid time off, and a generous equity plan, which gives employees a real stake in the company, are also offered. This position is remote.
Interested candidates should send a brief cover letter and resume to editors@heatmap.news with the subject line ‘Senior Editor Application.’
Heatmap News is a media platform focused on the energy transition.
Heatmap News is an equal opportunity employer. All qualified applicants will receive consideration for employment without regard to sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, race, color, religion, national origin, disability, protected veteran status, age, or any other characteristic protected by applicable law.
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