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Why climate might be a more powerful election issue than it seems.

Climate change either is or isn’t the biggest issue of our time. It all depends on who you ask — and, especially, how.
In March, as it has since 1939, Gallup asked Americans what they thought was the most important problem facing the country. Just 2% of respondents said “environment/pollution/climate change” — fewer than those who said “poor leadership” or “unifying the country” (although more than those who said “the media.”) Pew, meanwhile, asked Americans in January what the top priority for the president and Congress ought to be for this year, and “dealing with climate change” ranked third-to-last out of 20 issues — well behind “defending against terrorism,” “reducing availability of illegal drugs,” and “improving the way the political system works.”
The Biden administration seems to be taking the apparent message to heart, softening parts of its climate agenda while Democrats in tight elections run interference with their economy-first constituents. Mention of the Inflation Reduction Act, the president’s landmark climate legislation, still mostly elicits blank stares from Americans, and the administration hasn’t done much to help its case. During his State of the Union address, Biden didn’t refer to the IRA by name even once.
And yet Americans clearly, obviously, patently are worried about the climate. More than half of the respondents to a Yale Program on Climate Change opinion poll last winter said “global warming should be a priority for the next president and Congress.” Around the same time, seven in 10 called climate change a “serious issue” and a third reported being “extremely concerned” about it in Heatmap’s own Climate Poll.
“You could also ask, ‘Is the survival of American democracy a defining issue in this campaign or not?,’ and the polls will sometimes mislead you into thinking it’s way down the list,” former Vice President Al Gore said at a recent leadership conference for his nonprofit Climate Reality Project in New York — and indeed the March Gallup poll from March had “elections/election reform/democracy” as the top issue facing the country for just 3% of people. “But when people get into the voting booth,” Gore continued, “and they think about the fact that democracy is at risk — as we saw in the last bye elections — that actually did matter. And I think climate is the same way.”
Gore wasn’t just relying on his own intuition. A widely circulated New York Times/Siena College poll conducted ahead of the 2022 midterms showed 71% of voters believed democracy was at risk, but only 7% identified it as the most important issue facing the country, leading many to start eulogizing American democracy. And yet candidates from the Democratic Party, which has positioned itself as a bulwark against the erosion of representative government, dominated the most contested elections.
When you start to ask more targeted questions, the research tends to concur. “If you say, ‘Is climate change an important priority?,’ you get about two-thirds of people who agree with that,” Matthew Burgess, an assistant professor of environmental studies at the University of Colorado Boulder, told me. “If you say, ‘the single most important issue,’ then that’s where it falls off.”
Burgess’s work has examined a particularly odd discrepancy between the limited number of voters who list climate as the most urgent issue facing the country and the fact that climate change, on its own, can seemingly swing elections. In fact, Burgess and his co-authors argued in a paper they published earlier this year that climate voters might have secured Biden's 2020 victory. Using data from the nonpartisan Voter Study Group, Burgess and his co-authors found that “how important voters considered climate change to be as an issue was one of the strongest predictors of whom they voted for in 2020.” How strong a predictor? Strong enough to shift the national popular vote margin by 3% or more toward Biden, they concluded.
But when I asked Burgess what’s missing from a statistic like Gallup’s, which shows few voters prioritizing climate over other concerns, he admitted, “I don’t know.” He has plenty of theories, though. Recent election margins have been so tight that climate change would not actually have to have a significant effect on voting to swing the outcome, he told me. Or perhaps voters are beginning to connect the dots between climate change and issues they more openly profess to care about, such as the economy and national security. When I asked Justin McCarthy, an analyst at Gallup, about Burgess’ findings, he told me that “our question is not meant to measure issues affecting vote choice.”
It takes a lot of faith to buy any of those arguments, and Democrats in tight down-ballot races might not be willing to bet their limited resources on it. But we risk blowing past important context by writing off polling that shows Americans putting the economy over their concern about climate change, according to Emily Becker, the deputy director of communications on the climate and energy team at Third Way, a center-left think tank.
Becker has no problem advising frontline candidates “not to talk about climate and to talk about clean energy instead,” she told me. In her opinion, the two are separate issues — and the popular habit of using them as euphemisms is helping neither voters nor climate-conscious candidates.
“We tend to talk about clean energy as having one core purpose: emissions abatement. Then there are the positive externalities: job creation, clean air and water, money into your community, etc.,” Becker told me. But when it comes to Americans struggling to pay their bills, or who see minimal opportunities for good, well-paying jobs in their communities, “the positive externalities are no longer side effects,” she said. “They’re the main piece.”
By way of example, Becker said, it’s especially telling that investing in clean energy to address climate change appears to be popular in polls, but follow-up questions that ask how voters would feel about that investment if it raises their household costs see a “big drop.” “It’s kind of a luxury issue,” Becker said of climate change-first voting. Third Way’s own research shows that people who self-identify that way tend to be older, white, and more educated.
But young voters — traditionally thought of as the most climate-friendly demographic — are also facing some of the worst economic odds of any living generation. “The idea that you’re going to make decisions at the ballot box based on a faraway problem and not based on the problems right in front of you is a little bit delusional,” Becker told me.
Heather Hargreaves, the deputy executive director of campaigns at Climate Power, a strategic communications group with a robust research and polling operation, had a slightly different takeaway. “I don’t think any elected official who is seeing a national poll where climate change is getting a lower percentage than the economy should be like, ‘Oh, this means I shouldn’t talk about climate change,’” she told me. “That’s misguided.”
Climate Power’s polling has found that “clean energy and climate messaging” moved every demographic toward Biden, particularly — again — young voters, as well as independents, who were key in Burgess’ research. “If you look at the things people care about the most, gas prices and utility costs are always up there,” Hargreaves said. “And these are both related to how we address climate change.”
As even more evidence that climate is a winning message after all, Hargreaves pointed out that Republicans in red districts are “not shying away” from talking about how the IRA has brought money, improvements, and clean-energy investments to their districts. For example, Senator Tom Cotton bragged last summer that “Senator Boozman and I were able to secure the grants” for highway improvement projects funded by the infrastructure law — which the Arkansas pair had voted against. Likewise, Nancy Mace, a congresswoman from South Carolina, hosted a press conference touting a local transit hub with electric buses despite having once called electric mass transit “socialism.”
“They’re now trying to take credit for it — and that’s proof it’s politically a winner,” Hargreaves told me.
As an election-year message, it’s hard to argue that “climate change” — at least phrased as such — actually resonates with the majority of Americans. But “it must be a big tent issue if we’re going to actually solve it,” Burgess, the University of Colorado Boulder professor, told me. And opinions are still being shaped: Gallup has found that victims of extreme weather events are more likely to worry about climate change and view it as a threat. As Hargreaves stressed to me, polling trends tend to be more revealing than any individual battery questions, and they generally show growing levels of urgency.
Becker also offered a word of advice. “Be willing to be told that your issue does not matter as much as you want it to,” she said. “And figure out how you can make your priorities and the priorities of the electorate overlap.”
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The smoke pouring into Seattle from Spokane is particularly bad, but there’s also no such thing as good smoke.
I wrote this story from inside a cloud of smoke. Owing to some funky meteorology in the Seattle area this week — a pressure ridge paired with a thermal trough — the region’s usual westerly winds reversed, causing smoke from the fires burning in the eastern half of the state to pour through the mountain passes and river valleys of the Cascades and pool over the populous Puget Sound lowlands, where I live.
Though it’s cleared up some today, I’m still running my air purifier on full blast because I know what’s in the lingering smoke. Unlike the still blazing wildfires in Ontario that are burning through mostly uninhabited forests, the smoke in the Seattle area this week came to us partially from Spokane, where the Old Trails fire razed at least 700 buildings and homes last weekend. That means that beyond the usual organic matter associated with wildfire smoke, the pollution that has hung over Seattle has likely also contained particles and chemicals from burned plastics, batteries, cars, and household appliances.
But how can the average person be sure whether their wildfire smoke is the bad kind or the worse kind? (At least assuming that well-adjusted people do not obsessively watch the animations on AirNow.Gov, as I do.) I turned to Coty Jen, an associate professor of chemical engineering, and Albert Presto, a research professor of mechanical engineering, both of Carnegie Mellon University, to learn more about the chemistry of wildfire smoke.
“There is no safe smoke,” Jen said, setting me straight immediately. “It’s all bad. It will piss your body off.”
While it’s true that some smoke is more toxic than other smoke, what you might call the “all natural, organic” variety will still spike hospital emission rates and exacerbate pre-existing respiratory diseases, even if it is mostly burning trees.
Under ideal conditions, when cellulose or lignin — the main structural components of trees and plants as well as leaf litter and soil, the largest sources of carbon during a forest fire — heat up and combust, the chemical reaction creates carbon dioxide, water, heat, and light. But wildfires don’t burn cleanly, and the chemical reactions often stall midway through that process due to things like oxygen availability and temperature variation, producing intermediate products like carbon monoxide or partially broken-down bits of carbon, often called soot. The tiniest of these particles can be smaller than 2.5 micrometers across — 30 or more could fit across the width of a human hair — and are measured collectively as PM2.5, a catch-all term that refers to the size of the particle rather than what it is. What’s important, though, is that these particles are small enough to penetrate deep into our lungs and potentially enter our bloodstream, factors that add to the known mortality associated with PM2.5 exposure.
Different kinds of forests create different emissions — heavy duff, or leaf litter, which is common in pine forests, creates some of the densest smoke conditions. Wetter fuels also burn “dirtier,” creating more pollution. Different topographies also impact air quality in myriad ways; it’s no surprise that some of the worst pollution from the Spokane wildfires pooled in mountain valleys as a warm overhead layer of air trapped the particles near the ground.
Even “natural” wildfires can be extra toxic; burning eucalyptus, which grows in Southern California, is not something you want to inhale. Pine smoke can cause mutations in bacterial DNA, a common lab test for a substance’s potential to cause cancer. Wildfires that smolder are worse than those that burn fast; researchers have found that PM2.5 can be up to 70 times higher when fuels aren’t actively on fire. “You can even see this if you’ve ever built a fire yourself,” Presto explained. “There’s a period where everything is big and flaming, and then, if you’re burning a log, it eventually goes down to smoldering. The emissions are different.”
In the case of something like a house burning down in a wildfire, however, it’s not only cellulose and lignin combusting. “We’re good at engineering materials that are extremely robust, but when they burn, they release very exotic compounds,” Jen said. She pointed to the common plastic PVC, which is used for everything from exterior siding to plumbing and window frames. When it combusts, PVC releases chlorine, “which is very bad for you,” Jen told me. “It’s like how bleach is bad for you — it’s a pretty nasty chlorine compound. PVC isn’t releasing bleach, but it is releasing radical chlorine molecules that produce some crazy compounds.”
If you’re following a smoke event at home, the answer is “not really.” PM2.5 is measured in micrograms per cubic meter, which tells us how much small stuff is floating around, but not what that small stuff is. “It is pretty difficult to measure all the different compounds that wildfires, or broadly any pollution, will emit,” Jen said. “The easiest way to quantify it is to literally suck air onto a filter and measure how heavy it got.”
Measuring what exactly is in that mass requires instruments that cost in the ballpark of half a million dollars, which is not financially feasible at every air monitoring station, Jen went on. But while there are certainly academic applications for that kind of knowledge, a person trying to decide whether or not to go for their run in wildfire smoke doesn’t need that level of granularity.
“Some smoke is definitely more dangerous,” Jen said. “But as innocent bystanders, it’s not like we can pick and choose what smoke floats over to us. You just have to live with it, so the best mentality is to treat all smoke as bad.”
In a 2026 Science Advances study that attributed more than 24,000 deaths per year to wildfire smoke in the U.S., researchers found no safe threshold for PM2.5 exposure. Every 0.1 microgram per cubic meter increase in a county’s average annual PM2.5 from smoke was associated with nearly 5,600 excess deaths nationwide, even though most counties saw only trace amounts of smoke — about 0.4 micrograms per cubic meter a year. While it’s “orange sky” days, when the pollution spikes into triple-digit AQI numbers, that get the most media attention, even low exposure that you can’t smell or even see can be affecting your health.
PM2.5 is just one component of wildfire smoke — the other is gases, including benzene and formaldehyde. Many gases chemically transform as they move from where the fire is to where you inhale them. “The atmosphere is extremely oxidizing — it likes to add oxygen molecules onto compounds,” Jen said.
Some of those compounds react faster than others, “so it depends how downwind you are,” Jen went on. That’s why people closer to a wildfire — maybe a day or less downwind — get the distinctive campfire smell, mainly from the “young” vapors and volatile organic compounds. But for people on the East Coast who were subject to the Ontario smoke several weeks ago, the smoke had to travel several days to reach places like Pittsburgh and New York, and by then the sharper-smelling compounds had transformed into new pollutants like ozone.
The AQI only measures a few specific gases that are considered “criteria pollutants” under the Clean Air Act, which means, as Presto told me, “during these fires, you could emit a whole bunch of different other gases that don’t have an AQI number.”
Instead, you can look at the PM2.5 number to get the gist of how prevalent wildfire gases are. “If your PM 2.5 is high, it’s impossible for the bad gasses to be low,” Jen said. “The way we think about it is, there’s a bunch of junk on the particle, and if the same junk’s not also in the gas, it will evaporate off the particle into the gas. They always exist together.”
You might notice by now that I’ve written little about the actual AQI number, that score that appears on your weather app and runs from zero to 500 (or, confusingly, even higher). That’s because while the AQI is a great communication tool, it doesn’t offer us much in the way of the science of wildfire smoke.
The AQI measures five different pollutants — PM2.5, ozone, carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and nitrogen dioxide — with the EPA setting specific concentration thresholds for each one, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo has explained. “If local concentrations of any one of them tick up above those protective standards, the AQI will jump from green to a more alarming color,” she wrote. “The higher the level of pollution is, the higher the AQI and the darker the color will be.”
If you want to impress your friends, though, you ought to zero in specifically on the PM2.5 concentration — again, because the prevalence of the tiniest particulates is a good indicator of all the other gunk you can assume is in the air, too. (You can find the specific PM2.5 concentration usually by clicking for more information about the AQI on your weather app or checking IQ Air’s widget.) For example, at the time of this writing, my local PM2.5 concentration is 50 micrograms per cubic meter, more than triple the World Health Organization’s 15 micrograms per cubic meter threshold for 24-hour exposure. (The EPA’s 24-hour threshold is much more lenient, at 35 micrograms per cubic meter.)
When I asked Jen how she stays sane knowing all she knows about smoke exposure, she laughed. “I have just generally become more terrified of all campfires and all barbecues, but people already think I’m weird, so I might as well add to it,” she told me.
In all seriousness, though, she told me the answer is air filters, and her confidence in their ability to work. When wildfire smoke rolled through Pittsburgh, she had two running that she moved from room-to-room with her family, as well as a whole-house air filter. “We were getting PM2.5 concentrations in our house of about 80 micrograms per cubic meter when it was 150 outside,” she said. “But with the air filter on, we could drop that down to less than eight.”
Jen pointed out, though, that many people do not run their air filters properly. Filters are rated at their highest blower level, “so for them to be effective, you need to crank them to their highest setting to get all the air through,” she said. Most people keep their filters on auto or low because they’re so loud — myself included, until I learned otherwise.
Additionally, while an air filter is a rather large appliance, it really ought to be placed in the center of your room to be the most efficient, rather than up against a wall. (Again, my bad.) “When these wildfire events happen, the most effective place for the air filter is where you are, and you have to run it loud, which kind of sucks,” Jen said. “But it is better than breathing in gross air.”
The bill has bipartisan support, but even as Washington State burns, chances for passing it this session are looking slim.
It has been five days since the Old Trail fire burned through northeast Spokane, one of three blazes to encroach on the periphery of Washington state’s second-largest city this week. Tens of thousands of residents remain under evacuation notices, with some still unsure of if their homes are standing. While fire crews used cool weather at the end of the week to dig in new fire lines, this weekend marks the return of hot, dry, and windy red flag conditions.
The fight is far from over — nor is it limited to Spokane. The entire Northwest appears to be ablaze, with 44 large, uncontained fires burning in Washington and Oregon alone.
Something, everyone agrees, needs to be done. Exactly what, though, is a tougher question.
Most prominent among the potential solutions is the Fix Our Forests Act, which has managed to earn bipartisan support in the halls of an increasingly divided Congress. But it has also split the environmental movement in two. Even as the urgency has risen, hope for it to pass during this Congress has diminished, a sign of just how fraught forest management has become in this age of fires.
Initially drafted in 2023 under President Joe Biden, the Fix Our Forests Act aims to modernize forest management practices by sweeping away regulatory hurdles. After passing the House in September 2024, the bill arrived too late in the Senate for a committee vote. The bill was picked up again in 2025 after the Los Angeles wildfires, with its co-sponsor, House Committee on Natural Resources Chair Bruce Westerman, touting it as a way to prevent “future disasters.” (Westerman reintroduced the law with Democratic Representative Scott Peters of San Diego after they bonded over sequoias on a flight.)
With California’s tragedy fresh on the lower chamber’s minds, the bill quickly passed to a floor vote, with 64 Democrats joining all of the Republicans in sending it to the Senate. There, the bill has similar cross-aisle support. As one press email I received from an electrical manufacturer’s industry group in support of the legislation observed, “At least we can agree on wildfire mitigation.”
But though FOFA cleared its Senate committee markup 18-5, the August recess is now looming, meaning the window for a floor vote is narrowing. Given other must-pass bills languishing in the Senate, supporters of the Fix Our Forest Act fear it may once again get booted to the next Congress.
Matt Weiner, the CEO and founder of the nonprofit advocacy group Megafire Action, which backed the bill with a six-figure ad campaign last year, told me he’s nevertheless feeling optimistic. “They’ve gotten the clearances they need on both sides to get it into a must‑pass vehicle, so there’s potential for floor time in September and potential for lame duck movement as well,” he said.
I’ve been speaking with Weiner about FOFA since 2024; against the backdrop of the burning West, he’s getting antsy. “We can’t just be discussing it for the next decade as these treasured landscapes that we love so much go up in smoke,” Weiner said. “The way they’re burning, they’re not going to come back in the way we know the West.”
FOFA aims to prevent fires by making it easier for forest managers to use mitigation practices, such as prescribed burning and mechanical thinning, on federal land. It does this by allowing projects of up to 10,000 acres to qualify for a “categorical exclusion” exempting them from National Environmental Policy Act reviews, more than tripling the current cap of 3,000 acres. It also gives the Forest Service discretion to designate high-risk wildfire regions of up to 250,000-acres as “fireshed management areas,” a determination that bypasses time-consuming public and tribal comment processes, NEPA reviews, and certain Endangered Species Act and National Historic Preservation Act guardrails. The statute of limitations for stakeholders and the public to bring a legal challenge against a management plan is further reduced from six years to 150 days.
In 2025, The Breakthrough Institute, which also supports the bill, found that forest management projects drew more NEPA-related litigation than any other kind, adding an average of two years to their development timeline. “There are plenty of examples where we’ve seen those exact forests where projects were planned go up in smoke,” Emily Bass, the director of federal policy, food, and agriculture at Breakthrough, told me.
Environmental and conservation groups are divided on the bill, though. More than 100 nonprofits and advocacy groups — including the Sierra Club, the Center for Biological Diversity, and Earthjustice — signed onto a letter ahead of FOFA’s Senate committee hearing last fall arguing that “provisions of the bill represent the antithesis of effective, science-based wildfire mitigation and offer false solutions that would harm communities, ecosystems, and biodiversity.”
Of particular concern is the fact that, among more popular wildfire mitigation techniques like prescribed burns, the bill considers “any” timber harvest to be a “hazardous fuels management activity.” That means, in essence, that FOFA would open hundreds of thousands of acres of federal forest to NEPA-free logging in the name of wildfire mitigation.
“It makes sense that there might be some emergency situation where you’d need to get in and quickly remove vegetation on a small area,” Ellen Montgomery, the public lands campaign director for Environment America, told me. But a categorical exclusion of 10,000 acres would create a “‘log first, tell us what you log later’ situation,” she said. “It could be old growth forest. It could be mature. It could be wildlife habitat. It could have serious watershed health impacts, and we literally wouldn’t even know they’ve done it.”
In addition to sidestepping NEPA, a separate provision in FOFA would make it easier to avoid redoing Endangered Species Act consultations at the landscape-plan level if new information about a listed animal or plant emerges, something opponents say is another nail in the coffin of an already substantially weakened ESA.
Weiner is sensitive to criticisms that focus on the bill as a “handout” to corporate timber interests, arguing that “we don’t have examples of a single wildfire categorical exclusion being used inappropriately for timber harvest.”
Alex Craven, the national forest campaign manager for the Sierra Club, wasn’t persuaded by that argument. “It hasn’t been abused yet,” he said. “My counter question would be, why would some of these sweeping authorities need to be as large or expansive as they are?” (Susan Jane M. Brown, the principal and chief legal counsel of Silvix Resources, a nonprofit environmental law firm, later pointed me to a case from earlier this year in which the timber industry used a categorical exclusion in Oregon to justify logging that a judge found “would have no significant impact” on actually reducing fire hazards.)
There is also President Trump’s 2025 executive order establishing timber harvest quotas for the Forest Service. Though FOFA was initially drafted in 2023, under the previous administration, the current Forest Service chief is a former timber lobbyist whose “theory of wildfire prevention [is] you prevent wildfires by not having trees,” the conservation-focused Substack More Than Just Parks has argued. Though supporters of FOFA argue the Trump administration will pursue its timber quotas with or without the bill, Montgomery of Environment America said that complicity on those grounds is “ridiculous.”
“Just because there’s a very permissive executive order that encourages increased logging doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for Congress to pass a law to codify that," she said. “In fact, it makes it worse — a future administration can rescind an executive order. But if this law is on the books that authorizes these large categorical exclusions, that’s much harder to reverse.”
New additions to the bill such as a workforce protection program for Forest Service employees, a consolidated wildland-urban interface grant program, and the streamlined Wildfire Intelligence Center have helped win over some of the more forest management-focused holdouts over the years, including the Nature Conservancy, the National Wildlife Foundation, and the Environmental Defense Fund.
“I can’t speak to other nonprofits’ fears on this, but I can tell you we feel confident that the guardrails with NEPA and public review, and even the categorical exclusion increase of 10,000 acres, are well within the reasonable need for us to carry out our work and also protect important habitat, drinking water, and other aspects,” Eric Sprague, the director of forest conservation at the National Audubon Society, which also supports FOFA, told me. He added that he was particularly excited about a reforestation piece included in the bill, which creates a list of priority projects, as well as its forward-looking seed sourcing program focused on adapting to hotter future habitats.
FOFA is one of a suite of fire management bills in various stages in Congress, including some with overlapping aims. (The Farm Bill that passed the House this spring, for example, contains language expanding categorical exclusions to 10,000 acres.) Some organizations have championed the Community Protection and Wildfire Resilience Act, which has been referred to committee in the Senate and focuses more on community-level resilience measures like home hardening, as an alternative to FOFA.
The Wildfire Emissions Prevention Act is a narrower bill that also has bipartisan support, and entered committee last month. Like FOFA, it has also divided environmental groups with its approach. Though it would ostensibly weaken Clean Air Act protections, it does so in the name of making it easier to greenlight prescribed burns, a well-tested tactic for curbing major fires in certain ecosystems. Bass noted that the Forest Service treated only 1.1 million acres with beneficial fire last year, against a national target of 3.6 million, even despite an influx of Inflation Reduction Act and Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act funding. An optimal rate, per Breakthrough’s analysis, is closer to 3.9 million acres per year in California alone.
But underscoring the fragmented nature of wildfire mitigation bedfellows and enemies, even WEPA has its skeptics. “EPA’s regulations already provide for [prescribed fire as an exceptional event],” Abi Vijayan, an attorney at the Environmental Defense Fund who testified against WEPA, told me. “It doesn’t put prescribed fires on the table as a legal matter,” she went on. “It just weakens the guardrails that are already in place in both the Clean Air Act and EPA’s regulations.”
But here’s the $3.4 million question: If FOFA had passed when it was first introduced back in 2024, would the 2026 fire season look the same as it does now? It’s impossible to say. While Weiner pointed to positive examples like the prescribed burn scar that helped save South Lake Tahoe in 2021, experts largely agree that poor or stymied forest management efforts weren’t the root cause of the chaparral fires that burned into L.A. neighborhoods unwisely carved into fire-prone landscapes.
Even the bill’s co-sponsors acknowledge that while the bill might be a “move in the right direction,” it is ultimately meaningless in a greater policy vacuum. As New Mexico Democratic Senator Martin Heinrich put it to me in a statement: “Congress has to provide the meaningful investment to get this work done, and this administration needs to stop undermining the science, our public lands, and the federal workforce that make effective forest management possible.”
Forest management is only one piece of a complex puzzle; we also need to manage our communities, both where and how they are built. Looking at some of the most recent catastrophic fires — in Lahaina, Los Angeles, and Spokane — the unifying trend is not overgrown, untreated forests, but rather the nationwide pattern of suburban encroachment. “Federal land increasingly contributes little to disasters in urban and semi-urban settings,” The New York Times’ David Wallace-Wells wrote in January, marking the anniversary of the L.A. fires. Indeed, despite Westerman’s promise that FOFA would prevent “future disasters,” it likely would have done very little for Spokane, where an arsonist ignited the fire in a state park.
Craven of the Sierra Club emphasized that this is why he opposes the blunt instrument of FOFA when it comes to tackling the hydra that is wildfire. “It’s almost more valuable to look at the wildfire crisis as the wildfire crises in terms of what you are trying to solve,” he said. “Is that the protection of homes and communities? Or is it returning forest health and natural fire cycles to these landscapes? The solutions you come up with need to be matched to the right problems.”
A chat with Colette Lamontagne, senior director for electric power at Ceres.
This week’s conversation is with Colette Lamontagne, senior director for electric power at the sustainability finance advocacy group Ceres. Her team just released a shareholder engagement guide for the utility space around data center development. I’ve been wondering when the ESG crowd would enter into the AI infrastructure fray, so I asked if I could chat with Colette about what the guide could teach my lovely readers and whether the data center backlash portends a new wave of boardroom fights between electric companies and institutional investors.
Our conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
What is the big message of this guide? If you were to talk about this over a coffee, what would be the topline takeaway?
These data centers are coming, but they can be done right. They don’t have to be done in a way that negatively impacts energy, water, and communities, and we need to slow down just enough to be able to do it right.
It’s not a guide about what data centers should do — it's a guide on the risks to the electric power sector. The biggest risk is the magnitude of power needed and the timing — how quickly it’s needed. Because of that, the traditional process for electric utilities can’t keep pace. It’s all regulated. There’s a lot of steps they have to go through to build new transmission infrastructure and new generation. If the grid connected companies can’t keep up the pace, data centers will just build their own generation. And the biggest problem with that? You have all these resources not shared by the users.
Do you think data centers are going to create a new wave of ESG-based investor advocacy?
I haven’t thought about it as a new age for ESG, but that’s a good point. We are moving beyond asking companies about targets and to create transition plans. Now we’re looking at how to accelerate solutions for climate impacts. I do think there’s a new age related to that.
When it comes to data centers, the questions aren't about utilities and their targets, but instead how they’ll meet this need so they don’t go back to old coal plants or [build] new [behind the meter] plants not used by the grid.
Should we anticipate some kind of new shareholder advocacy wave around how integrated utilities and power companies address or mitigate the impacts of the data center boom on meeting their resource plans, especially decisions made as a result of shareholder advocacy on climate?
If a data center comes to a utility and says they need 100 megawatts of power and the utility chooses to serve that with coal or gas instead of new renewables, it will impact their clean energy goals. If they say they signed a power purchase agreement and give all these renewable resources to a data center, that’s not new — you’re still impacting your clean energy goals because then you’re taking the renewables away from other customers. You have to build something else for those other customers. What are you building instead?
How they think about their long-term resource plans is really important. These generation sources will be around for a very long time. In most cases, renewable energy is cheaper to build. Gas plants require a four- or five-year wait for turbines. So not only is it better for the environment but better for business to get these renewables built.
I’ve written a lot about data center water use. The guide goes into the energy sector’s water use impacts from this increased power demand from data centers; specifically, it says investors should consider asking utilities to conduct new comprehensive water risk assessments around it. Can you help my readers and I better understand what this kind of assessment is and why companies should consider doing this?
Different types of electric generation facilities use different amounts of water. Some of it is withdrawn and put back. Some of it is withdrawn and consumed. Those matter. In cases when water is drawn and put back, the temperature goes up — that’s impacting the environment.
It’s an interesting dichotomy. The new technologies that use air cooling use less water, but they use more energy. Then you have to think about what electricity you’re using and how much water that electricity is using. It’s the life-cycle impacts.
Is there any kind of risk for investors or energy companies associated with the data center sector, given its political challenges?
Well, utilities usually get the short end of the straw. They always get blamed for everything. I say that with a laugh because I used to work for a utility.
Some of these companies have an obligation to serve. If someone comes to them and says they need power, they are required to provide it. However, they can protect themselves and other ratepayers. If the utility builds a whole generation plant and all this transmission infrastructure to serve one data center, and then the data center gets canceled, yeah that’s a risk — not to the bottom line of the utility but to their reputation.