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Whether that will matter in November is another story.
As President Joe Biden prepares to run for re-election, one fact has eluded much notice: His climate change policies are pretty popular.
In an exclusive Heatmap poll of 1,000 Americans conducted by Benenson Strategy Group late last year, most respondents backed the core ideas behind Biden’s climate policies. They expressed the most support of ideas meant to beef up the country’s manufacturing economy and build more renewable electricity.
Nearly 90% of Americans, for instance, support encouraging domestic manufacturing. They also support using tax incentives to make homes more energy efficient (85%), funding research into carbon dioxide removal (81%), investing in public transit (80%), and implementing policies that address environmental injustices (78%).
That is despite the overwhelming public disappointment in Biden. Biden’s approval rating has fallen to 37%, an all-time low of his presidency, despite his boisterous State of the Union performance. At first glance, Biden’s climate policy might seem to pose a paradox: It’s really popular (at least facially), but nobody has seemed to notice. That may persist through the November election. But it will not be able to last for too long after that.
The least popular policies are those that Biden has pursued only when he has bipartisan support — or that he has not pursued at all. Making it easier to build new fossil fuel pipelines, for instance, is supported by 62% of Americans, less than almost any other policy aimed at increasing the country’s energy supply. A slight majority of Americans support making it easier to build new nuclear power plants.
At first I doubted the veracity of these results — some of Biden’s policies are, after all, putting up autocrat-like ratings. A carbon tax is polling 52 points above water.
But these results largely match other polling. Surveys reliably find that about two-thirds of Americans would support some kind of carbon tax. Last year, for instance, 68%of Americans backed “requiring fossil fuel companies to pay a carbon tax,” according to a Yale poll. These numbers have been remarkably stable over time. As much as 67% of Americans backed a carbon tax in 2019, according to a poll from the University of Chicago and the Associated Press-NORC Center on Public Affairs Research.
If these numbers surprise you, you’re not alone. Most Americans underestimate public support for pro-climate policies. (Or at least, they underestimate what polling finds about Americans’ support for climate policies.)
The rub is that public support descends to more Earthly levels once you start asking about concrete costs. Those who say they support a carbon tax when told it will be imposed on fossil fuel companies, for instance, may change their minds after fossil fuel companies pass that tax along as higher prices. Another University of Chicago poll found that most Americans were okay paying a monthly fee of $1 to fight climate change. When asked if they’d pay $40 a month, support fell to 23%.
One of the more ironic aspects of Biden’s success is how rapidly commentators have forgotten that climate change policy used to be seen as uniquely difficult to legislate in the United States. In 1993, and then again in 2010, the House of Representatives passed bills that would have helped fight climate change. Each time, the Senate blocked the legislation. The Senate also effectively blocked the adoption of the Kyoto Protocol, the first international climate treaty, in the 1990s.
Through the decades, Congress passed energy bills meant to expand the energy supply in an all-of-the-above way and changed the tax code to let people and companies save money by building solar or wind energy. But these policies expired every few years, and they failed to amount to a unified climate strategy.
Other countries with other forms of government — China, the United Kingdom, the European Union member states — didn’t have this problem. (Which doesn’t mean that they’ve been perfect on climate change.) America’s failure to pass climate policy became a singular indictment of its bicameral system.
Why was it so hard to pass climate policy? The short answer is that for years, climate advocates focused on one particular policy — carbon pricing — as a cure-all solution to climate change. And while carbon pricing is backed up by economic theory, environmentalists and economists struggled to generate the kind of durable, veto-proof support that legislation needs to pass in today’s environment.
By design, carbon pricing raises the cost of energy — meaning that opponents can paint it as a measure meant to increase the cost of living. That didn’t work for voters in the persistently sluggish economy of the 2010s, and it split Democrats’ coalition — of college-educated liberals and lower-income workers — in half. (It also struggled to deal with the political mise en scene. Washington’s interest in climate policy has usually peaked during moments of high energy prices, but the past decade’s fracking boom kept a lid on oil and natural gas prices.)
But climate advocates also struggled for years against more political-economic obstacles. As the political scientist Matto Mildenberger documented, climate proposals have historically invited pro-business groups and labor unions to team up and fight a common enemy. Because climate policy targeted entire industries at once — and because these industries were, naturally, especially sensitive to wholesale energy prices — environmentalists had to take on labor and management at the same time.
It didn’t help that many of the industries concerned had a special claim to Democrats’ sensibilities. Until recently, many of the sectors most affected by climate policy were unionized at a higher rate than the average. Even today, more than 20% of utility workers belong to a union, for example, as compared to 6% of workers in the private sector. These rates were even higher in the recent past. About 16% of automaking workers are represented by unions today, but union membership stood at 60% within living memory. Even in 2010, about one in 10 American workers in the mining, quarrying, and fossil-fuel extraction industries were represented by a union, which was also above the national rate at the time.
Democrats dealt with these problems by abandoning most broad-scale attempts to tax fossil fuels. During the Trump administration, progressives chose to focus instead on using industrial policy and regulations to rein in carbon-intensive sectors — instead of raising the cost of fossil fuels, perhaps a climate law could lower the cost of clean alternatives. And instead of raising energy prices — thereby annoying voters and discouraging high-profile industries — perhaps policy could lower them. Hence the Inflation Reduction Act.
This approach succeeded! And yet many of the IRA’s policies have struggled to attract public attention. Even though the IRA is Biden’s signature legislative achievement — comparable to President Barack Obama’s Affordable Care Act — Biden has largely avoided the specific backlash that greeted that law. Obamacare was about 10 points underwater in 2010, even as Obama himself was about as popular as he was unpopular. Biden, by contrast, is incredibly disliked — he is now 17 points underwater, a nadir for his presidency — yet the IRA’s core ideas remain well-liked.
That is politically inconvenient for Biden and it raises difficult long-term questions for progressives. Biden and Democrats have seemingly given voters what they want — and it’s not clear that the voters care.
But for the would-be Grover Cleveland to Biden's Benjamin Harrison, it might be more of a problem. If elected, Trump has promised to repeal parts of the Inflation Reduction Act. His rhetoric on climate change hasn’t really changed since the 2016 election, when he argued that it was “job-killing.” Meanwhile, he hates electric vehicles, claiming that “they don’t go far, they cost too much, and they’re all going to be made in China.”
Yet it’s the electric vehicles made in America that are going to get him. If Trump repeals the IRA’s subsidies, then domestic manufacturing will suffer. The EV industry has created roughly 70,000 jobs over the past three years, and many of those roles are in electorally decisive states, including Georgia and Michigan. Trump has promised to act as a “Day One dictator,” but even then, he will still be at least partly constrained by the desires and interests of the local and state-level Republicans who support him — and they will need those jobs and investment to continue.
Of course, there’s no guarantee that these policies will produce political support. In Texas, an explosion of renewable construction has led not to surging public support for clean energy, but to a state-led “war” on wind and solar. (That said, renewables don’t generate local jobs and economic activity in the same long-term way that factories do.) Yet these policies don’t ever have to be popular to be durable — in part because voters won’t organize around them until they’re threatened. Biden’s climate policies — no matter how popular — will probably never win him reelection. But they could very well protect his legacy long after he’s gone.
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On a new WMO report, FEMA, and Oak Flat
Current conditions: The first U.S. heat wave of the year begins today in the West, with a record high of 107 degrees Fahrenheit possible in Redding, California • India is experiencing its earliest monsoon in 16 years• Power was largely restored in southeast Texas by early Wednesday after destructive winds left nearly 200,000 without electricity.
The global average temperature is expected to “remain at or near” the 2-degree Celsius threshold within the next five years, the World Meteorological Organization shared in a new report Wednesday morning. The 2015 Paris Climate Agreement set a warming limit to under 2 degrees C above pre-industrial times, although the WMO’s prediction will not immediately mean the goal has been broken, since that threshold is measured over at least two decades, the Financial Times reports. Still, WMO’s report represents “the first time that scientists’ computer models had flagged the more imminent possibility of a 2C year,” FT writes. Other concerning findings include:
You can find the full report here.
The Federal Emergency Management Agency has been in disarray since its acting administrator was fired in early May for defending the agency before Congress. His successor, David Richardson, began his tenure by threatening staff. According to an internal FEMA memo obtained by The Handbasket, however, the picture is worse than mere dysfunction: Stephanie Dobitsch, the associate administrator for policy and program analysis, wrote to Richardson last week warning him that the agency’s “critical functions” are at “high risk” of failure due to “significant personnel losses in advance of the 2025 Hurricane Season.”
Of particular concern is the staffing at the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, which The Handbasket notes contains the nuclear bunker “where congressional leaders were stashed on 9/11,” and which, per Dobitsch, is now “at risk of not being fully mission capable.” FEMA’s primary disaster response office is also on the verge of being unable to “execute response and initial recovery operations and may disrupt life-saving and life-sustaining program delivery,” the memo goes on. Hurricane season begins on Sunday, and wildfires are already burning in the West. You can read the full report at The Handbasket.
The Supreme Court on Tuesday rejected a religious liberty appeal by the San Carlos Apache Tribe to stop the mining company Rio Tinto from proceeding with its plan to build one of the largest copper mines in the world at Oak Flat in Arizona, which the Tribe considers sacred land. Justices Neil Gorsuch and Clarence Thomas said in a dissent that they would have granted the Tribe’s petition, with Gorsuch calling the court’s decision a “grave mistake” that could “reverberate for generations.” The Trump-appointed justice argued that “before allowing the government to destroy the Apaches’ sacred site, this Court should at least have troubled itself to hear their case.”
I traveled to Superior, Arizona, last year to learn more about Rio Tinto’s project, which analysts estimate could extract enough copper to meet a quarter of U.S. demand. “Copper is the most important metal for all technologies we think of as part of the energy transition: battery electric vehicles, grid-scale battery storage, wind turbines, solar panels,” Adam Simon, an Earth and environmental sciences professor at the University of Michigan, told me of the project. But many skeptics say that beyond destroying a culturally and religiously significant site, there is not the smelting capacity in the U.S. for all of Rio Tinto’s raw copper, which the company would likely extract from Oak Flat and send to China for processing. According to court documents, Oak Flat could be transferred to Rio Tinto’s subsidiary Resolution Copper as soon as June 16. In a statement, Wendsler Nosie Sr. of Apache Stronghold — the San Carlos Apache-led religious nonprofit opposing the mine — said, “While this decision is a heavy blow, our struggle is far from over.”
MTA
New York won a court order on Tuesday temporarily preventing the Trump administration from withholding funding for state transportation projects if it doesn’t end congestion pricing, Gothamist reports. The toll, which went into effect in early January, charges most drivers $9 to enter Manhattan below 60th street, and has been successful at reducing traffic and raising millions for subway upgrades. The Trump administration has argued, however, that the toll harms poor and working-class people by “unfairly” charging them to “go to work, see their families, or visit the city.”
The Federal Highway Administration warned New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority that it had until May 28 to end the program, or else face cuts to city and state highway funding. Judge Lewis J. Liman blocked the government from the retaliatory withholding with the court order on Tuesday, which extends through June 9, arguing the state would “suffer irreparable harm” without it. Governor Kathy Hochul, a Democrat, celebrated the move, calling it a “massive victory for New York commuters, vindicating our right as a state to make decisions regarding what’s best for our streets.”
European Union countries agreed on Tuesday to dramatically scale back the bloc’s carbon border tariff so that it will cover only 10% of the companies that currently qualify, Reuters reports. The scheme applies a fee on “imported goods that is equivalent to the carbon price already paid by EU-based companies under the bloc’s CO2 emissions policies,” with the intent of protecting Europe-based companies from being undercut by foreign producers in countries that have looser environmental regulations, Reuters writes. The EU justified the decision by noting that the approximately 18,000 companies to which the levy still applies account for more than 99% of the emissions from iron, steel, aluminum, and cement imports, and that loosening the restriction will benefit smaller businesses.
The famous “climate stripes” graphic — which visualizes the annual increases of global average temperature in red and blue bands — has been updated to include oceanic and atmospheric warming. “We’ve had [these] warming estimates for a long time, but having them all in one graphic is what we’ve managed to do here,” the project’s creator, Ed Hawkins, told Fast Company.
And coal communities and fracking villages and all the rest.
Amid last month’s headlines about departures from the Department of Energy, the exits of Brian Anderson and Briggs White received little attention. Yet their departures foreshadowed something larger: the quiet dismantling of federal support for the economic diversification of fossil fuel–dependent regions of the country.
Anderson and White led the Energy Communities Interagency Working Group, created by a 2021 executive order to coordinate the federal strategy to support coal–reliant regions through a global transition to cleaner energy. This Biden-era strategy recognized that communities where employment opportunities and tax bases depend on fossil fuels face serious risks — local levels of prosperity generally rise and fall with production levels — and they require support to build new engines of economic activity.
In contrast, President Donald Trump’s prescription for fossil fuel communities is to produce more fossil fuels. In addition to cutting clean energy incentives, the budget reconciliation bill passed by the House of Representatives last week seeks to directly support fossil fuel production by accelerating leasing and permitting, lowering royalty rates, and repealing the methane emissions fee.
History suggests that Trump’s ability to help fossil fuel communities by boosting production is limited — similar efforts in Trump’s first term failed to significantly alter the trajectory of coal, oil, or natural gas output. But the funding cuts codified in the current reconciliation bill could do real harm by dismantling federal programs that support economic diversification. Communities that depend on fossil fuel industries will be vulnerable to severe economic shocks when demand for their products eventually declines.
The need to help transitioning regions isn’t new, but federal support for struggling communities has long been stigmatized. In 1980, a federal commission urged policymakers to focus less on struggling places and more on helping individuals move to where opportunity existed. President Ronald Reagan used this report to justify cutting federal economic development programs, including proposing to eliminate the Appalachian Regional Commission. Congress did not fully abolish the ARC, but its budget was slashed nearly in half, leading to staff reductions and the phasing out of the programs designed to bolster the economy of the persistently struggling region.
In the decades that followed, manufacturing towns were largely left to fend for themselves as globalization accelerated. A study by MIT’s David Autor and colleagues showed that 86% of the manufacturing job losses from trade shocks in the early 2000s were still reflected in depressed local employment rates in 2019. Most workers didn’t find new jobs or migrate.
If the loss of dominant employers causes “miniature Great Depressions” in local economies across the country, then a rapid decline in fossil fuels spells acute risks for communities that depend on these industries for jobs and public revenues. We see this happening already in coal-reliant regions. In Boone County, West Virginia, coal production declined by over 80% from 2009 to 2019, causing the county’s gross domestic product to decline by over 60%. Three of Boone’s 10 elementary schools were forced to close.
President Trump entered office in 2017 pledging to “bring the coal industry back 100%” with a deregulatory strategy much like the one his administration is pursuing today. But during his first four-year term, domestic coal mining employment fell by 26%, and coal-fired power plant capacity declined by 13%, demonstrating the futility of doubling down on an economic model when macroeconomic forces are working against it.
These outcomes are not inevitable. Four-hundred miles west of Boone, the far more economically diverse Hopkins County, Kentucky was able to weather its own 75% decline in coal production without a comparable economic crash. In Germany’s Ruhr Valley, the German government paired a coal phase-out with over €100 billion in long-term investments — new universities, industrial incentives, environmental restoration, and worker retraining. While some towns in the region are still struggling, the Ruhr Valley’s shift from a coal powerhouse to a more diverse, knowledge-based economy shows that fossil fuel regions can reinvent themselves.
Recent policies in the U.S. began to take similar steps. As part of a broader federal place-based economic strategy, the American Rescue Plan dedicated hundreds of millions to rebuilding coal communities in 2021. Then came the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, which included billions for cleaning up abandoned mines and orphaned oil wells and funding large-scale demonstration projects for carbon capture and hydrogen production. The Inflation Reduction Act added bonus tax credits and carve-outs to grant programs that target fossil fuel communities.
The now-defunct Energy Communities Interagency Working Group helped knit these efforts together. It served as a clearinghouse for funding opportunities, published “how-to” guides for local leaders, and deployed “rapid response teams” to coal regions.
To be sure, the strategy had limitations. Most programs focused narrowly on coal regions and clean energy solutions, and the IWG had minimal funding for its coordinating efforts. But the strategy shift marked real progress and has generated promising early signs, such as an iron air battery manufacturing facility at an old steel mill in Weirton, West Virginia, carbon capture projects in North Dakota and Texas, and “hydrogen hubs” in the Gulf Coast and Appalachia.
Under the Trump administration, that progress is at risk. Government efficiency initiatives have already led to the gutting of federal programs best positioned to support investments in fossil fuel communities, including the Loan Programs Office, the Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations. and the Federal Thriving Communities Network Initiative.
Trump’s budget proposes severe cuts to the federal support for regional economic development, including eliminating the Economic Development Administration, the federal agency dedicated to helping communities strengthen their local economies.
The reconciliation bill passed by the House of Representatives is a step toward codifying those cuts — with reductions in non-defense discretionary annual spending of $163 billion (over 20%) — and it would also eliminate most of the tax credits and grant programs that encourage investments in energy infrastructure projects in fossil fuel communities. Certain policies that are especially well suited for fossil fuel communities, like incentives for enhanced geothermal energy, may be phased out before ever really getting off the ground.
Rolling back support for fossil fuel communities will curb these regions’ opportunities to build new engines of economic prosperity. Without credible, lasting commitments from the federal government, many fossil fuel communities have little choice but to stick to the economic model they know best, despite their vulnerability to the eventual end of fossil fuels.
Revisiting a favorite episode with guest Kate Marvel.
Shift Key is off this week for Memorial Day, so we’re re-running one of our favorite episodes from the past. With Republicans in the White House and Congress now halfway to effectively repealing the Inflation Reduction Act, the United States’ signature climate law, we thought now might be a good moment to remind ourselves why emissions reductions matter in the first place.
To that end, we’re resurfacing our chat from November with Kate Marvel, an associate research scientist at Columbia University and the NASA Goddard Institute for Space Studies. At the time, Trump had just been reelected to the presidency, casting a pall over the annual United Nations climate conference, which was then occurring in Azerbaijan. Soon after, he fulfilled his promise to pull the U.S. out of the Paris Agreement, with its goal of restraining global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius over pre-industrial levels.
In this episode, we talk with Kate about why every 10th of a degree matters in the fight against climate change, the difference between tipping points and destabilizing feedback loops, and how to think about climate change in a disappointing time. Shift Key is hosted by Robinson Meyer, the founding executive editor of Heatmap, and Jesse Jenkins, a professor of energy systems engineering at Princeton University.
Subscribe to “Shift Key” and find this episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can also add the show’s RSS feed to your podcast app to follow us directly.
Here is an excerpt from our conversation:
Robinson Meyer: I want to dive into tipping points for a second. Are there particular tipping points that are really frightening to you? Because sometimes it feels like that phrase gets used for almost two different things: There are some tipping points where once we start them … these are physical effects in the climate system that once we start, we won’t be able to really reverse them, and I think the Atlantic Meridional Overturning [Circulation] is the classic example, and we should probably explain what that is.
But then there are other tipping points, sometimes, where it’s like once you start them, they don’t only have this cascading physical effect that’s irreversible, but they have a cascading effect on the carbon cycle.
Kate Marvel: Yeah, no, I mean, they all freak me out quite a lot for different reasons. Your point that we use, at least colloquially, tipping points to refer to a lot of bad stuff deserves a little bit more attention — I personally see tipping points getting confused with feedback loops and runaway greenhouse effect.
So, a feedback process is when global warming affects things that exist on the globe, which themselves feed back onto that global warming. So a classic example of a feedback process is ice melt. Ice is super shiny. It’s very reflective. It turns back sunlight that would otherwise fall on the planet and warm it. And we know — you know, science is very solid on this — that when it gets hot, ice melts.
Jesse Jenkins: That’s a good one. Yeah, we’re clear on that.
Marvel: So when ice melts, you take something that used to be shiny and reflective, and now you’ve got darker ocean or darker ground underneath, and so you’re no longer turning back that sunlight. It’s getting absorbed, and that itself feeds back to the warming. That makes the warming worse. So that is an example of what scientists call — and this is the worst terminology in all of science — we call it a ‘positive feedback.’ Because when normal people hear positive feedback, they’re like, Oh, I’m doing a great job. But when scientists say ‘positive feedback,’ we mean ‘destabilizing process that is making warming worse and might lead to catastrophe.’ So I’ll try to say destabilizing feedback and stabilizing feedback, but catch me out on it if I say positive and negative.
So there are a lot of these feedback processes that we understand pretty well. We know that warmer air holds more water vapor — that’s why we’re seeing more intense, extreme downpours. And we know that water vapor is itself a greenhouse gas. So when the planet gets warmer, you’ve got more water vapor in the atmosphere, which itself is trapping more of the heat coming up from the planet. That is an example of a destabilizing feedback.
So there’s a lot of these feedback processes that we understand fairly well. And then there’s some processes that we are not completely baffled by, but we haven’t really nailed down as much. So that’s why clouds are a huge wild card. A lot of the reason we don’t know exactly how hot it’s going to get is we don’t know what clouds are going to do. We don’t know how clouds are going to reorganize themselves. We don’t know if we’re going to get more of this one type of cloud, less of this other type, if they’re going to get more reflective, more absorbent, whatever. Clouds are really complicated, and that’s a feedback process that we don’t necessarily understand.
But feedback processes are already happening in the climate system right now. They are going on as we speak. That makes them different from something like a tipping point. A tipping point is generally defined as something that we break that we can’t fix on any timescale that’s relevant to us. So an example of a tipping point is the disintegration of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet. It turns out that once you break an ice sheet, it’s relatively really hard to make a new one. We can’t just rock up in Antarctica with, you know, freezer guns or whatever Arnold Schwarzenegger had in the Batman movie. We can’t do that. That’s not real. Once we break the West Antarctic Ice Sheet, it’s going to be broken for the rest of our lives, and our children’s lives, and our grandchildren’s lives.
Music for Shift Key is by Adam Kromelow.