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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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The U.S. Department of Agriculture confirmed on Wednesday that a New World screwworm — a flesh-eating fly that feeds on cattle, livestock, and other mammals — was found in a 3-week old calf in southern Texas. The screwworms aren’t dangerous to people, but they are a serious health risk to cows, and they are likely to drive already record-high beef prices even higher.
The finding reflects the defeat of what was, up until recently, one of my favorite “unknown” government programs. For decades, the United States government paid to breed millions of male screwworms, blast them with radiation to make them sterile, and then drop them from planes into the rainforest at the narrowest stretch of the Panama peninsula. (Sarah Zhang, the bravura science writer at The Atlantic, wrote the ultimate story about this project back in 2020, which is how I learned about it in the first place.) These sterile male worms mate with female screwworms but produce no larvae, creating a biological border in Central America across which screwworms cannot pass, at least in theory.
That border was breached in 2022 — perhaps via infected livestock smuggled across the Darién Gap — and since then screwworms have been inching toward Mexico and the United States. They were hundreds of miles from the border last summer; now they seem to have crossed it. Once they’re inside the country, the screwworms will be difficult to cordon given that livestock move travel regularly as they move from ranch to slaughterhouse.
The U.S. government is on it — sort of. Brooke Rollins, the agriculture secretary, announced efforts last July to open a new factory in Texas capable of producing 300 million sterile screwworms. Regardless, re-eradicating the worms is going to be much harder than keeping them under control — the U.S. established the bio-wall in that narrow strip of Panama because it was most efficient, but eliminating the bugs at first required enormous air drops across the southern United States and the entirety of Mexico. That will require a bigger bug factory.
Screwworm isn’t the only historic pest that the American government has lost control of: Our measles eradication status is now also under review. New pests threaten, as well, such as the alpha-gal tick and Lyme disease.
I would highlight that the screwworm is a lesson about the reality of good governance. State capacity is not so different from managing the electricity system or, for that matter, cutting carbon emissions, in that there is little political reward for getting it right. Voters do not thank politicians when something bad doesn’t happen — except in the most obvious cases — and they broadly do not notice when difficult systems work. (Nor do journalists — or, for that matter, the algorithmic feeds that have partially replaced us.)
The screwworm may also point to the virtues of taking a more muscular — a more openly protean — approach to environmental engineering. For decades, the U.S. government really did succeed in squashing the screwworm, and while the ecological effects of the widespread and cheaper cattle farming that resulted are perhaps best left to another discussion, it does make me wonder: Should we consider trying the same thing for ticks? Mosquitos?
Quiet desperation, meet artificial intelligence.
Like many new parents, I devote considerable time to thinking about sleep and why it’s not happening. Should I have sung the bedtime song and then changed the diaper? Did the baby need a fourth nap, or was the mistake letting her take a third so close to bedtime? It came as a surprise the other day, then, when a fellow parent in my baby group revealed she isn’t overthinking the whole sleep schedule thing at all. “I asked ChatGPT to write my baby’s sleep plan,” she told us. “It’s validating!”
To this author, personally, outsourcing parenting decisions to the world’s most sophisticated Mad Libs respondent seems like one of the signs that we’re doomed. Sleepmaxxing mothers aside, a plurality of Americans agree with me. Per Heatmap Pro’s latest polling, 45% of voters are “pessimistic” about the long-term impact of artificial intelligence on their lives, with just 22% saying they’re “optimistic” and about a third saying they’re unsure.
Americans were even more negative about the perceived impacts of AI on “society as a whole” — more than half, 55%, said they were pessimistic, while just 17% said they were optimistic. Maybe “future generations” will have it better? Eh. Again, net pessimism outweighed optimism in our polling by more than 30 points (52% to 20%).
Look a little closer at who hates their life because of AI and you might be surprised. The youngest respondents in the survey (and those who will have to live with the tech the longest), were by far the biggest doubters. Respondents aged 18 to 34 reported the most pessimism of any major demographic about the estimated impact of AI on their personal lives, tied with women generally at net 33 pessimistic over optimistic. For AI’s impact on society as a whole, there was a 53-point spread in favor of AI making things worse (68% pessimistic to 15% optimistic), which is 15 points worse than the next most pessimistic age group, the 35- to 49-year-olds.
Seniors, by contrast, are a little more sanguine. Among the 65-and-over crowd, the pessimism gap was a comparatively small net 12. In fact, men over the age of 65 were the only major group to report being more optimistic than pessimistic on AI’s impacts on future generations (34% to 30%) and on their own lives (35% to 32%). By contrast, young women were among the most negative of all groups; nearly three in four women in the 18 to 34 range (73%) said they were pessimistic about AI’s impact on society, and the same group was net 62 under water on AI’s effects on future generations. (Our findings are in keeping with other polls that show a gender gap on the embrace of AI.)
Education, surprisingly, wasn’t a big difference-maker. People who attended college reported nearly identical pessimism about AI’s impacts on society and future generations as non-college-educated respondents. College-educated people were just a few points less pessimistic about AI’s impact on their own lives, 25% versus 29% for those who didn’t attend.
So who actually thinks AI is going to be a good thing? Black respondents were at least more evenly divided on the impact of AI on their personal lives (33% optimistic to 33% pessimistic), though they were less convinced that the technology is good for society or future generations (13 points net pessimistic). People who prefer a hands-off federal approach to AI are generally encouraged by the technology’s application in their own lives, at net 13 optimistic. But even the most AI-friendly group’s outlook dropped off when considering its implications on society as a whole (net 4 pessimistic) and on future generations (net zero).
Independent voters bristled more at AI’s impacts on their lives (pessimism net 32) than Democrats (net 30), and on the question of “society as a whole,” the bloc ran away with net pessimism of 48, compared to Democrats (net 45) and Republicans (net 27). Among Republicans, MAGA voters were net 25 toward pessimism about AI’s impacts on their lives — in spite of President Trump’s boosterism — compared with the even-more-pessimistic non-MAGA voters at net 34 pessimistic.
Are Americans just a half-glass-empty group to begin with? Well, maybe — the percentage of adults who told Gallup they anticipate having “high-quality lives in five years” declined to less than 60% in 2025, the lowest level in two decades of polling. And while this is Heatmap’s first year tracking AI optimism, in Stanford University’s 2025 Artificial Intelligence Index Report, an adjacent line of inquiry found that people are increasingly warming up to the technology, with the “share of individuals who see AI products and services as more beneficial than harmful [rising] from 52% in 2022 to 55% in 2024.”
At the same time, about a third of Americans in our polling worried that AI puts their jobs at risk; a mere 6% said they believe that “AI will create jobs across the country, and I expect my own career to benefit.” Hopefully, there are no baby sleep trainers among their numbers.
The Heatmap Pro poll of 4,118 American registered voters was conducted by Embold Research via text-to-web responses from May 15 to 28, 2026. The survey included interviews with Americans in all 50 states and Washington, D.C. The margin of sampling error is plus or minus 1.6 percentage points.
Current conditions: The southwest monsoon known as “hagabat” has started in the Philippines, dumping up to 4 inches of rain on the archipelago • A strong geomagnetic storm, ranked just two levels below the most powerful type of event of this kind, is underway, threatening radio signals, GPS, and other human instruments that are sensitive to shifts in the Earth’s magnetic fields • San Antonio, where the glorious New York Knicks defeated the Spurs last night, is bracing for rain through the weekend.
To put it in terms a movie lover could understand, President Donald Trump’s Iran War is drinking the U.S. government’s milkshake. Federal stocks of oil have dropped to their lowest level since 2004. Commercial crude stocks fell by 8 million barrels to 433.7 million last week, according to The Wall Street Journal. Unless the Strait of Hormuz reopens soon — which looks less likely now that Iran has called off negotiations with the U.S. and Israel — prices could hit $200 per barrel by summer, said Bob McNally, president of the Rapidan Energy Group consultancy and a former White House adviser. “You start to raise the risk of spillover into other sectors, the economy and financial system … it detonates fragilities in the broader economy and financial system,” he told the Financial Times.
Oklahoma Attorney General Gentner Drummond has filed a lawsuit to block construction of the United States’ first new aluminum smelter in half a century over concerns about the project’s ties to the United Arab Emirates and risks it poses to the state’s cattle industry. Century Aluminum had planned to build the smelter with $500 million from the Biden administration. But in January, as I told you at the time, the company overhauled the deal to partner instead with the Abu Dhabi-based Emirates Global Aluminum, which said it became interested in the project after Trump slapped 50% tariffs on the metal. The move comes after Trump endorsed Drummond’s opponent in this year’s Republican primary for Oklahoma governor.
In the 12-page litigation, the state’s top cop alleged that the smelter, planned for a site 30 miles east of Tulsa, would “leach air and water pollutants that would injure the health, comfort, repose, and safety of the people in the region,” Mining.com reported. “A primary aluminum smelter does not belong in a community’s backyard and its emissions do not respect property lines,” Drummond wrote in the lawsuit, which asks the court to block the project. His lawsuit also refers to the UAE, a close ally of the U.S. and by far the most liberal of the Gulf Arab kingdoms, as an “Islamic foreign monarchy.”
The Electric Reliability Council of Texas, the state’s grid operator, approved what E&E News called two “landmark sets of rules of rules” this week that would “shape the future of data centers in the state if finalized.” One package sets up new criteria and processes for bringing big electricity users onto the grid by reviewing them in batches. The other requires data centers and crypto mining operations to remain online during brief grid disruptions in a bid to avoid the cascading outages that downed the electrical system during 2021’s deadly Winter Storm Uri.
The changes come as opposition to data centers reaches critical new heights. Seven in 10 Americans now oppose server facilities built near their homes, according to a new Heatmap Pro released a poll this week that my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote up here. The backlash has grown so severe that former Representative Ben McAdams, a Republican from Utah, is facing serious pushback from his Democratic opponent for the state’s new 1st Congressional District over his small stake in the renewable energy component of a proposed data center in the area, according to the Salt Lake Tribune.
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Taiwan, if you’ll forgive the pun, is in dire straits. The self-governing republic that has functioned as an independent country since the losing side of the Chinese Civil War fled there in 1949, is almost entirely reliant on imported fossil fuels to keep the lights on and semiconductor fabricators churning out the hardware that makes the island so valuable to the global economy. That reliance only grew last year when the ruling Democratic Progressive Party, which has opposed atomic energy since its founding in the 1980s, completed the country’s nuclear phaseout, shutting the last of the island’s three functioning plants. The government in Taipei is now considering starting back up at least one of the old nuclear plants. But, as I told you earlier this year, it’s also looking to geothermal to make up the difference. On Wednesday, the Ministry of Economic Affairs announced the first government-led tender for geothermal, Think Geoenergy reported. The six-month process is meant to develop geothermal zones in Taitung County, on the island’s southeast coast.
The Iran War isn’t just draining America’s crude stockpiles. It’s also spiking gas prices — and spurring a hybrid boom. Sales of hybrid vehicles revved 33% in May compared to the same month last year, according to a Wall Street Journal analysis of Motor Intelligence data. “The hybrids have been a godsend,” Mark Politte, the dealer principal at Stanley Subaru in Ellsworth, Maine, told the newspaper. They are “hotter than the non-hybrids.” While new vehicle sales are down 4.4% overall this year through May, hybrid sales are up 17% compared with 2025.
Meanwhile, autonomous electric vehicle company Waymo announced a deal on Thursday to recycle batteries from its nearly 4,000 operating robotaxis into battery storage for electric grids in California and Texas. Waymo’s fleet is made up mostly of Jaguar I-Pace EVs, which have 90-kilowatt-hour batteries. “Put a little haircut on that in terms of degradation and the effective capacity that would be left in those batteries when they’re suitable for repurposing, and we’re still talking about pretty significant capacity per battery,” Freeman Hall, CEO of B2U Storage Solutions, Waymo’s partner in the project, told Ars Technica.

The U.S. may be depleting its oil stockpiles, but it has increased its storage capacity for natural gas in the future. Underground storage capacity in the Lower 48 states increased slightly in 2025, growing mostly in the South Central and Mountain West regions, according to new data from the Energy Information Administration. “Underground natural gas storage provides a source of energy when demand increases, balancing U.S. energy needs,” analyst Jose Villar wrote. “We calculate natural gas storage capacity in two ways: demonstrated peak capacity and working gas design capacity. Both increased in 2025.”