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I respect that it is still 2023 for three more days and that, as an act of self-love, you’ve permitted yourself not to think about the presidential election until next year, but bear with me for a moment. If you want to understand the biggest climate story of 2023, you’ve got to talk about 2024.
I watched an unhealthy number of Republican debates this year and spent way too much time trying to make sense of the words that came out of Donald Trump’s mouth, and because of this, I can report that a lot of what President Biden’s opposition has been talking about is climate. Some of this is because climate change is simply unignorable at this point: 2023 was the hottest year in over an epoch, and between the fires, floods, heat, and storms, if you weren’t talking about the weather, what were you talking about? (Actually, don’t answer that.)
But some of the climate chatter is also because Republicans are canny. They know that the Inflation Reduction Act is Biden’s signature piece of first-term legislation — and also broadly popular, even if most Americans don’t recognize it by name. And as Biden’s poll numbers have eroded in recent months due to his handling of everything from student loan forgiveness to the situation in Gaza, promoting the IRA is looking increasingly like his best chance to hold the White House. There will be plenty for both parties to tussle over in the coming months — crime, the economy, the very foundations of American democracy, etc. — but 2023 has shown that Republicans will happily use climate as their football.
For one thing, the right is starting to weaponize poorly understood climate buzzwords like “ESG” — or even just “the climate agenda” — the same way they’ve made bogeymen out of terms such as “critical race theory” and “woke.” In practice, that chisels off the actual substance of the climate conversation — the hard work of figuring out what the green transition will continue to look like and how to move forward in a way that does the most good and least harm — from the so-called “climate agenda,” words that conjure an image of a scowling, scruffy hippie who wants to take away your freedom. I mean, just look at how Florida Governor Ron DeSantis nearly squirmed out of his skin when Nikki Haley called him an environmentalist.
But you don’t even have to focus on the smallest, shoutiest Republicans to notice this. Trump is still the frontrunner in the Republican primary, after all — and in many polls, the frontrunner in the presidential election — and he’s been busy disparaging everything from electric vehicles to heat pumps. More alarming is that he’s used the environment to punish his political enemies before, and threats of retribution have characterized his 2024 campaign.
Meanwhile, “groups led by the Heritage Foundation and the America First Policy Institute are already making a ‘battle plan’ to block electricity-grid updates that would allow for solar and wind expansion, to prevent states from adopting California’s car-pollution standards, and to gut clean-power divisions at the Department of Energy, among other things,” The Atlantic recently reported.
It’s not hyperbole to say that the outcome of the 2024 presidential race will determine how fast the world’s second-biggest carbon polluter can change its course and, by grim consequence, the fate of vulnerable communities around the globe. Long gone are the days when the Republican Party pretended climate change wasn’t happening. What’s replaced the head-in-the-sand tactics is far worse (and right out of the Big Oil playbook): a muddying of the waters, a co-opting of the language, a bewildering of the facts.
The last 12 months were just a teaser. Now, the real show begins.
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There is a heat wave in Europe, the world’s fastest warming continent. And so, as you may have heard, a perennial topic of online climate discourse has returned: Why don’t more Europeans have air conditioning?
I’m partially convinced this is psy op, or at least a figment of how social media organizes attention. I have a hypothesis that various “For You” page algorithms, especially that of the social network X, began to reward content that performed unusually well across national borders a few years ago. Since then, the amount of America vs. Europe content has surged. (Of course, writers have been comparing American and European lifestyles for much longer than that.)
Suffice it to say, though: It’s a fraught topic. I’ve assumed that as extreme heat gets worse as the climate changes, Europeans will simply get on with it and install AC, much as Americans in the Pacific Northwest have done. Yet there are cultural and regulatory obstacles to AC’s growth in Europe.
I’m sure I’ll write about it in the future, but for now I want to get a grip on the facts themselves. And so as a Friday special, I present to you — the facts about European AC, as I understand it:
Thanks so much for reading, and talk soon.
The movement against data centers is raising up a raison d'etre of the anti-renewables movement: protecting would-be farmland.
Farm owners and operators across the U.S. are winning national headlines almost every week for rejecting big dollar offers from data center developers. In Hanover County, Virginia, protestors are chanting “Grow Tomatoes, Not Data Centers.” In Pennsylvania and elsewhere, Republican legislators are mulling proposals to block the sale of so-called “prime farmland” for data center development. In Texas, the fight over data center development has engulfed the race for the state’s ag commissioner seat. In the Midwest, where agriculture reigns supreme, statewide races and congressional campaigns are slowly but surely being defined by the issue. Like in Nebraska where Austin Ahlman, an independent candidate running for Congress in Nebraska’s first district, told me he believes the data center backlash is reflective of a populist politics that broadly criticize elites and top-down control of the economy: “I think sometimes people misunderstand the anxieties of rural Americans when it comes to these data centers because a lot of their fears are about control long term.”
Unlike the farmland backlash around renewable energy development, the loudest critics are on the anti-monopolist left. On Wednesday, the prominent opposition group Food and Water Watch signaled farmland could soon be a watchword in the national data center debate – in a fashion analogous to what we’ve seen with renewable energy. The organization’s blog post entitled “The AI Data Center Boom Is Coming for Farmers” declared data centers verboten because of the threat they posed to “small and midsized family farmers.” Mitch Jones, deputy director of the campaign outfit, said he believes the threat to farmland is “a compelling reason to oppose data center development” but that his organization’s fight is primarily focused on protecting small business owners and an anti-monopoly sentiment.
“If data centers are coming into their areas, this puts even more pressure on them. It drives up the cost of their electricity, just as it does anyone else. It competes with them for water for crops, and it affects the value of their land in a perverse way,” Jones told me.
None of this should be surprising. An agricultural workforce has always been a good barometer for figuring out if a community will accept new infrastructure of any kind. We’ve seen as much time and time again with renewable energy, carbon capture, fossil energy and mining, just to name a few industries.
This same rule is true with data centers. In April, county commissioners in Kosciusko County, Indiana, unanimously rejected a Prologis data center; nearly 90% of acreage in Kosciusko County is being actively farmed, according to the Heatmap Pro database. Linn County, Iowa, in February enacted a rule severely restricting data center development in unincorporated areas; almost three-fourths of the land is used by the ag sector. A potential Amazon facility is causing heartburn in Clinton County, Ohio; nearly all land in the county is used for farming and utility-scale solar development has a recent history of conflict with landowners.
To be candid, I’m struck by the similarity in the backlash over siting data centers on farmland – a resemblance so close that some counties are starting to restrict renewable energy and data center development on farmland at the same time. This week, Eau Claire County, Wisconsin created a new “farmland preservation plan” discouraging utility-scale solar energy and data centers on any potential farmland. (More than 40% of land in this county is currently being used for farmland, according to Heatmap Pro.)
Jones at Food and Water Watch said his organization taking on the “protect farmland” mantle had nothing to do with the success this argument has had against renewable energy. “That thought never entered my head,” he told me, adding that if communities respond to the data center backlash by taking steps that short-circuit solar and wind too, that’s “a coincidence.”
I kept pressing. What if the pivot to farmland protection leads to more communities restricting renewable energy along with the data centers? “If you’re looking for a reason to oppose solar and wind, you can come up with that without having to attach data centers to it,” Jones said. “We’ve seen rural communities oppose solar and wind before data centers blew up across the country. It’s nothing new.”
And more of the week’s top news around project fights.
1. Virginia Beach, Virginia – The right-wing interest group lawsuit against Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind is now dead, concluding one of the wackier tales of the Trump 2.0 energy era.
2. Box Elder County, Utah – Call it the Box Elder County massacre.
3. Davidson County, Tennessee – We have the latest updates in the Nashville Zoo data center drama and they’re a doozy and a half.
4. Clark County, Ohio – Yet another utility-scale solar farm is in the Ohio state permitting graveyard.