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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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A new version of the bill strives to address environmental and tribal concerns while strengthening some of its transmission provisions.
We now have the updated final text of the bipartisan Senate permitting deal. Will it be enough to get the bill across the finish line?
On Saturday morning, senators released a reworked version of the Bipartisan Affordability and American Jobs Act. This version, known as a “manager’s amendment” under parliamentary procedure, aims to address many of the concerns and criticisms raised about the bill and will become the official legislative text that ultimately gets a vote in the Senate. There’s something in these changes for everyone – environmentalists, tribes, utilities – but it remains to be seen if they put the bill into a Goldilocks zone.
Let’s walk through some of the most significant changes. There are a lot of changes, and we’re sure people will spend the coming weeks poring over them, but here are a few key ones.
The amendment preserves — and even strengthens — many of the bill’s most important (and praised) transmission provisions, while addressing and easing some of the loudest Republican criticisms of the bill.
The new text leaves the bill’s core transmission mechanisms intact: Every grid region will have to run a long-term planning process with its neighbors, overseen by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, focused on how it can build more interregional lines. The bill lays out how these new power lines should be paid for, via a cost allocation formula that says customers who benefit from the lines need to pay for them. And it creates a new federal siting backstop, which allows the federal government to step in and approve the route for a line if a state has refused to do so.
The amendment deals with one of the provisions that faced the most criticism from former Republican regulators and ends one — but not all — of the bill’s mandates for vertically integrated monopoly utilities, which are largely in the Southeast.
In return, it strengthens the bill’s federal backstop siting provision for transmission lines, and it makes the overall bill more useful for transmission developers. It also clarifies that transmission developers can use some of the bill’s expedited powers without needing to use all of them.
“I think there’s some really good improvements in [the new text], and they provide more flexibility for more types of projects to go through,” said Rob Gramlich, a longtime advocate of federal transmission reform and the president of Grid Strategies, a power sector consulting firm.
In the original bill, a transmission developer could apply for state permits and the FERC federal backstop permit at the same time. A former Republican FERC Commissioner Mark Christie had savaged that provision, arguing recently in Utility Dive that it “effectively renders the state proceeding meaningless, and states will perceive it exactly that way.”
Now, for some advocates, rendering the state process moot was the whole point. But it also wasn’t clear whether developers would ever actually go to FERC and states simultaneously. Doing so would shove a finger in the eye of state regulators, essentially telling them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” The amendment removes the possibility of a simultaneous process; now developers must go to states for a year before they apply for the federal backstop.
The new version of the bill also exempts vertically integrated utilities that aren’t in an electricity market from an otherwise mandatory new process that will require utilities to plan their long-term transmission and their power plant expansion at the same time. That new process is inspired by the planning process used in the Southwest Power Pool, a Midwestern electricity market Midwestern grid.
The Southeast’s monopoly utilities, which are vertically integrated and don’t participate in a regional transmission organization, had disliked that provision, and it wasn’t clear the bill as written actually worked for their operations. That requirement has now been removed from the bill. Utilities won another victory by preserving existing rights of first refusal to build transmission infrastructure in federal law.
But they didn’t win every fight. These utilities will still be subject to the mandate requiring them to participate in an interregional planning process for transmission.
And the utilities will remain subject to a provision, particularly praised by anti-monopoly advocates, that allows states and FERC to exercise oversight over local transmission projects that can drive up electricity costs. The new bill clarifies that state public utility regulators are responsible for asking FERC to investigate these types of projects, and that a utility can invite scrutiny even if it’s replacing an old line, not just building a new one.
“I am relieved that the section survived generally, given what a target this was for utility lobbying. It was strengthened significantly by covering replacement of local facilities in addition to new-build,” David Pomerantz, the executive director of the utility watchdog the Energy and Policy Institute, said in a statement.
In return, Democrats secured a few big changes in the bill that could benefit transmission developers. First, transmission projects will now be able to use the bill’s cost allocation formula even if they don’t use the federal backstop authority. Second, transmission developers will be able to use the bill’s cost allocation formula for only part of their projects.
This makes the bill better in a few ways for transmission developers. First, a developer could get a route entirely approved by the states without having to come up with a new way to pay for it — they can use the formula that’s already in the bill. It also means a power line could use the formula to monetize one of its benefits to the grid without using them all. That could sweeten the economics for projects meant to, say, arbitrage power between two regions, allowing it to make money off its reliability benefits without altering its broader economics.
The amendment also clarifies that the new federal backstop siting authority applies to state-owned land. That closes a potential loophole in which a state government could acquire land from a property owner in order to block a federally approved project from getting built.
The bill also makes some technical changes to the 230-kilovolt floor for projects that can use the federal backstop. It establishes that a line using advanced conductoring technology — which generally allows more electricity at lower voltage — can use the backstop even if it’s not at least 230 kilovolts. But it must have a throughput roughly similar to what a conventional line of 230 kilovolts would have.
The amendment also makes it clear that a utility can’t decline to upgrade a piece of infrastructure — even one at lower voltage — in order to block a transmission line. In 2021, the utility NextEra had fought a major power line in Maine because it required the utility to upgrade a single power circuit at its Seabrook nuclear plant in New Hampshire.
These provisions broadly strengthen the most popular parts of the bill and may address some concerns from southeastern utilities, which could have torpedoed the bill in the House of Representatives.
At the same time, new text attempts to assuage opposition in both the environmental and tribal advocacy spaces, and it’s undeniable that on first blush, the manager’s amendment does address complaints from those camps about the bill. But as we’ll explain however, it’s unclear if this will be good enough for either community to lay down their arms.
First, Senate negotiators clearly took complaints about the “project certainty” provision seriously, including by dealing with language that would allegedly protect unlawful actions. Under the new bill text, agencies will be explicitly allowed to revoke or alter permits “in response to an order by a court”. The prior text of the bill did not grant federal agencies this explicit jurisdiction and said it could only rely on court orders to make those permit changes if a judge required it. As our colleague Emily Pontecorvo recently wrote, some environmental lawyers were concerned that this original text would inadvertently protect individual permits granted under policies that violated the law.
Other changes are similarly geared towards addressing complaints in the environmental legal space. The original text of the bill allowed companies to sue the federal government for “disparate treatment” against their industry, which would theoretically assist renewable energy companies gain legal leverage against the Trump administration’s permitting freeze. However, the old text used a 5-year baseline of past projects for determining “disparate treatment,” which could mean the president’s anti-wind and pro-fossil actions weren’t built into the baseline. The new bill extends that baseline to 10 years, potentially diluting the influence of Trumpian permitting practices over the next administration.
New language would explicitly stipulate that court settlements brought under these lawsuits must be approved by a court, an apparent nod to claims from critics that this provision could encourage more offshore wind buyouts.
The new text also cuts out or modifies reforms to the National Historic Preservation Act geared towards addressing complaints from Native American tribes. It strikes a controversial attempt to define “property of traditional religious or cultural importance” that was in the original text, and it eliminates a much-maligned provision that would let the Interior Secretary assume the role of a tribal historic preservation officer in certain cases.
These changes were insufficient to thaw the bloc of tribes opposed to the bill. The 106 Coalition, a group of tribal organizations including the National College of American Indians, sent a statement to media saying they’ll still oppose the bill and want the entire section of NHPA changes removed. The leader of the Coalition of Large Tribes, which has pushed for technical fixes to the bill but not opposed it outright, said in a statement it was “grateful to see many positive changes for tribes” but added there was “still room for improvement.”
Lastly, the new version of the bill adds another provision to address concerns that it doesn’t do enough to address the national backlash to data centers, which opponents have argued is necessary.
As we’ve explained, the bill already would create the toughest measure against data centers ever enacted – a ratepayer protection program that would let states and utilities require data centers to pay full freight for system upgrades. And now the bill would additionally create a new federal Data Center Community Assistance Program within the Energy Department whereby local communities could request assistance from agencies to get information and technical expertise on how data centers work and what impacts specific projects could have on their areas. The language mirrors legislation introduced last month by Sens. John Curtis of Utah and Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware.
Such a program could be a big deal. But it’s important to emphasize that the text leaves a lot of details to be worked out. It does not say how this program would be set up within the Energy Department and the provision does not explicitly lay out funding authorization language.
The amendment also closes a loophole that might have allowed data centers with behind-the-meter natural gas power plants to profit by selling excess power to the grid. The original bill contained a provision meant to force grids to allow more residential batteries or the creation of virtual power plants. But that provision, as written, could have applied to behind-the-meter gas plants at data centers. The new text clarifies that the requirement only applies to resources below 5 megawatts, which is smaller than a data center power source.
It remains to be seen whether these changes and the myriad other tweaks to the bill’s project certainty and historic preservation titles will win over lawmakers previously hesitant to vote yes.
The Wilderness Society, whose president is Tracy Stone-Manning, Biden’s former director of the Bureau of Land Management, released a statement shortly after the new bill text was released reaffirming its opposition. “Americans deserve permitting reform that isn’t crafted behind closed doors and rushed to the Senate floor,” Manning said in a statement. Meanwhile, House Natural Resources Jared Huffman provided comments to Punchbowl News reacting to the text that said some of the changes to the permit certainty provision represented an “improvement” but “we could improve it further in this and other areas with a hearing and a more open negotiation process with more Democrats in the room.”
It’s unclear these voices would ultimately ever support this bill. “Manager’s [amendment] does a good job of accounting for the stated concerns of anybody looking to get to yes,” Liam Donovan, a veteran GOP political strategist, wrote on the social network X.
The Senate is scheduled to vote Monday on a motion invoking cloture – ending debate – on the permitting bill, per the Senate cloakroom. The motion will require at least 60 votes to pass. Senators are probably hoping for far more than 61 votes though, because as we’ve explained, House legislative rules may require overwhelming bipartisan support to get the measure to the president’s desk.
The “35x35” electrification pledge and an AI pledge are on the table.
World leaders are flocking to the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya, Turkey, this weekend for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP31. The U.S., of course, will once again not attend, as President Trump not only withdrew the country from the Paris Agreement but also from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the umbrella group that organizes the annual conferences. Still, 194 other governments will be there, putting their heads together on how to move another few inches toward a safer future.
This year, as with the last several convenings, the meeting arrives against a backdrop of geopolitical instability, worsening climate impacts, and growing concern about energy security and affordability. While conflicts like the Iran war in some ways bolster the case for the energy transition by surfacing the risks of fossil fuel dependence, prioritizing energy security can manifest as countries turning inward and showing less willingness to work for the global good.
Perhaps the biggest item on this year’s agenda is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035, up from about 23% today. That would mean switching from gas-powered cars to electric vehicles and from burning fuels for heat to electric heat pumps. It would not necessarily mean generating all of the electricity to power those devices from clean sources, although countries have committed to triple renewable energy capacity during previous COPs. Turkey itself does not have a plan to phase out fossil fuels, and its use of coal and natural gas-fired power plants has been growing alongside renewables.
It’s not yet clear whether Turkey will encourage countries to sign onto the pledge outside of the main negotiations or try to get it into the final decision text of the conference. In a twist, the conference has two countries sharing the presidency this year, with Turkey playing host and overseeing the “action agenda” — the announcements, commitments, and dealmaking that happen outside the official negotiations — and its co-chair, Australia, mediating the formal talks.
In addition to the electrification goal, Turkey is also inviting countries to sign an artificial intelligence pledge declaring a “shared ambition to make AI part of the climate solution — sustainably powered, efficiently designed, transparently measured and available to all.” The pledge has no teeth, however, as it explicitly states that it creates “no new obligations” and notes that it should be implemented according to national priorities and circumstances.
Although there will be no big agreement like there was in Paris in 2015, the two weeks of talks will end, per usual, with a consensus document that summarizes the outcomes of the negotiations. The final text from last year’s conference in Belém, Brazil, set a new goal to triple finance for climate adaptation by 2035. Countries also agreed to create a “Just Transition Mechanism,” a program to help fossil fuel-based economies navigate the socioeconomic consequences of shifting to clean energy. But the final text at COP30 did not ultimately mention the creation of a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels, despite more than 80 countries supporting the idea, and didn’t, in fact, mention “fossil fuels” at all.
Much of the work this year will be about building on those outcomes. The climate adaptation finance goal, for example, is still fuzzy, as the parties did not agree on a baseline year from which to triple the funding, or define what types of finance count toward the goal, meaning it’s unclear what the actual target amount for 2035 is. The Just Transition Mechanism is similarly skeletal — negotiators will need to hammer out how to operationalize it into something useful. Countries are also supposed to make progress on the Global Goal on Adaptation, an as-yet ill-defined goal first established in the Paris Agreement that negotiators are still working out how to implement.
Then there’s the overarching theme of finance. As I’ve written in the past, every annual climate conference is ultimately a fight over money — specifically how much developed countries are sending to developing countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects.
To date, countries have agreed to mobilize $1.3 trillion annually in climate finance from all sources for developing countries by 2035, with $300 specifically coming from developed countries. Climate finance reached record levels in 2024, the most recent year with comprehensive data, with total global flows hitting $2 trillion and funding from developed to developing countries reaching $136.7 billion.
But progress is uneven. Only 2% of global investment in renewable energy over the past two decades went to Africa, said Brian Mukhaya, a senior manager on the Clean Air Task Force’s Africa team, during a recent media briefing. Finance challenges may also collide with the conference’s electrification goal. More than 550 million people in sub-Saharan Africa lack access to electricity, Mukhaya said, and the continent will need seven to eight times current investment levels to achieve universal electricity access by 2030. Also, while the rising cost of capital is becoming an impediment to building clean energy projects everywhere in the world, the problem is acute in Africa, where the average cost of capital for power-sector investments is three to five times higher than in Europe and North America.
At COP31, negotiators will try to make progress on questions such as what form climate finance should take (grants, concessional loans, private finance, etc), how it can be more effectively distributed, and what it should be used for.
Another question hanging over this year’s conference is whether the final text will acknowledge the likelihood of surpassing 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, the more ambitious target laid out in the Paris Agreement. Last year’s decision text contained a tacit admission, with countries resolving to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.” Doing so requires a more serious discussion of carbon removal strategies than delegates have engaged in to date.
With the world seemingly careening past the 1.5 degrees target, the annual climate talks have lost some of their luster. Critics increasingly call for a new approach. Ani Dasgupta, the president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, for example, wants the COPs to center more on accountability and holding countries to their commitments. He also recommends developing a new decision-making process that does not allow a handful of countries to block decisions. Since the substance of the negotiations is becoming more and more about how to finance the transition, he argues the conference should also broaden its tent to bring in finance ministers and central banks.
“Where we are today is different from 1992 when COPs were set up,” he said during a recent press call. “The world is different. The broader needs are different. We are at a different place in the transition. And we actually haven't reformed the system.”
Progressive candidate Jane Kim declared victory in the race for California Insurance Commissioner.
Few political wonks outside of California were likely paying much attention to the Golden State on Tuesday night, as Democrats’ anticipated blue wave crested. But the state did have one close, consequential race on the ballot: insurance commissioner. On Friday, Bernie Sanders-endorsed progressive Jane Kim won the race to lead the California Department of Insurance, which oversees the state’s $452 billion insurance market.
Kim declared victory over the more moderate State Senator Ben Allen, who was backed by the California Democratic Party, after reaching a nearly six-point lead on Friday. In a brief speech before supporters, Kim said Allen called to congratulate her that morning. (A spokesman for the Allen campaign confirmed the call to The Orange County Register.) Kim ran on a proposal for a state-run, single-payer insurance program that would cover homeowners against wildfire damage — though the plan would ultimately need approval from both the California legislature and Governor-elect Xavier Becerra.
The idea is that homeowners would automatically receive public coverage for wildfire-related losses, with payouts capped at roughly what it costs to rebuild a typical California home. Policyholders would keep their regular private insurance for other risks such as theft, burst pipes, or an ordinary kitchen fire. Kim says Californians wouldn’t pay more overall, since the money for the program would come from the share of premiums that already goes toward wildfire coverage, though each household’s bill would partly depend on its own wildfire risk.
“It would be nonprofit, and so any excess capital would stay in the state of California and would be used to drive down risk,” Kim told my colleague Matthew Zeitlin a few weeks ago. “That’s the most important piece about this actually, is that it would create another revenue stream for mitigation.”
The insurance commissioner job has taken on an increasing sense of urgency as wildfires — intensified by climate change — continue ripping through communities in California. Mounting losses from hotter, drier conditions combined with decades of new construction in the wildland-urban interface have squeezed insurers’ profits, leading many to drop policyholders in high-risk areas or simply stop writing new policies in the state altogether.
California’s homeowners insurance premiums climbed 84% between December 2020 and March of this year, according to Stanford researchers. Meanwhile, a growing number of residents have been pushed onto the state’s FAIR Plan, which my colleague Matthew described as “the barebones insurer of last resort.” The share of California’s single-family homes covered by the plan has nearly tripled over that same period, from under 2% to about 5%, as homeowners in even low- and moderate-risk wildfire areas increasingly find themselves with few alternatives.
The insurance crunch has become yet another front in California’s broader affordability crisis, alongside persistently high housing, electricity, and gasoline costs. Kim’s victory suggests frustrated voters are increasingly willing to support more radical solutions that once seemed politically out of reach. And while Kim doesn’t have a background in the insurance industry, she’s no stranger to public office. The former civil rights attorney served on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2011 to 2019 before becoming a regional director for Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign.
But throughout her run for the Insurance office, critics have continually questioned how, exactly, her plan would work. No state has attempted a public disaster insurance program like this before; critics argue there’s no relevant model to work off of, no white paper laying out the details, and no price tag attached to the idea. Kim herself acknowledges that there’s plenty of uncertainty surrounding the plan. “This is a concept and a proposal, and could look quite different by the time it works its way through the process,” she told Matthew. In other words, the program that eventually emerges from negotiations with lawmakers — if one does — could end up looking considerably different from what Kim campaigned on.
Her opponent, Allen, who chairs the state senate’s Energy, Utilities and Communications Committee, argued that creating a public wildfire insurance program would impose a significant financial burden on the state. The California Earthquake Authority, an agency that sells earthquake insurance and administers the state’s Wildfire Fund, examined the potential costs of such a program this spring, estimating it would require roughly $25 billion upfront to have a 75% chance of staying solvent for 20 years. But Kim points out in her policy brief that buying reinsurance — essentially insurance for the insurer — could cut that to about $6 billion.
Allen, on the other hand, pitched a series of reforms to the existing market, including speeding up rate reviews, rewarding homeowners and communities for wildfire mitigation, expanding financing for home-hardening projects, and discouraging development in high-risk areas.
Voters opted instead for the insurance revolution. But Kim argues that her plan isn’t totally without precedent. On the campaign trail, she frequently pointed to New Zealand, where the government’s Natural Hazards Commission provides homeowners with public coverage for disasters including earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis — though notably not ordinary wildfires. And while France and Spain also operate state-backed disaster insurance programs, these don’t cover wildfires either, a far more common occurrence in California than the comparably rare disasters these programs were built around abroad.
Ultimately, Kim’s ambitious plan will require a champion in the legislature to go anywhere. But in the meantime, there are other issues she could get to work on. On the campaign trail, she said she wants to push insurers to fund a disaster mitigation program run by the Department of Insurance, require companies selling auto policies in a region to also offer homeowners coverage there, and impose minimum loss ratios compelling home insurers to pay at least 65% of premiums in claims and auto insurers at least 70%. It’s unclear, however, whether Kim can implement either of the latter two proposals without new legislation.
Kim will also immediately face the question of what to do with outgoing Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara’s Sustainable Insurance Strategy reform package. Designed to entice insurers back to California, these new rules allow companies to set premiums using forward-looking risk models rather than relying on historical losses, and to pass a portion of their rising reinsurance costs onto policyholders. In exchange, insurers are required to write more policies in wildfire-prone areas.
Kim has criticized this approach, arguing that insurers have exploited loopholes to raise premiums on lower-risk customers while continuing to underserve high-risk communities, all without doing enough to address the underlying factors driving wildfire risk.
That leaves Kim in a tricky situation. Until she is able to secure legislative backing for some version of her proposed public insurance program, she’ll have to decide whether to scrap or simply build on the existing reforms. She hasn’t yet laid out any plan for doing so. But whatever direction she takes could ultimately reshape California’s insurance market well before a new state insurer gets off the ground.