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That means big, bad things for disaster relief — and for climate policy in general.

When Hurricanes Helene and Milton swept through the Southeast, small-government conservatives demanded fast and effective government service, in the form of relief operations organized by the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Yet even as the agency was scrambling to meet the need, it found itself targeted by far-right militias, who prevented it from doing its job because they had been led by cynical politicians to believe it wasn't doing its job.
It’s almost a law of nature, or at least of politics, that when government does its job, few people notice — only when it screws up does everyone pay attention. While this is nothing new in itself, it has increasingly profound implications for the future of government-driven climate action. While that action comes in many forms and can be sold to the public in many ways, it depends on people having faith that when government steps in — whether to create new regulations, invest in new technologies, or provide benefits for climate-friendly choices — it knows what it’s doing and can accomplish its goals.
As the climate crisis grows more urgent, restoring faith in government will be more important than ever. Unfortunately, simply doing the right things — like responding competently to disasters — won’t be enough to convince people that the next climate initiative will do what it’s supposed to.
The number of people expressing faith in government today is nearly as low as it has been in the half-century pollsters have been asking the question. That trust has bounced up and down a bit — it rose after September 11, then fell again during the disastrous Iraq War — but for the last decade and half, only around 20% of Americans say they trust the government most of the time.
It’s partisan, of course: People express more trust when their party controls the White House. And the decline of trust reaches beyond the government. Faith in most of the key institutions of American life — business, education, religion, news media — has fallen in recent decades, sometimes for good reason. The net result is a public skeptical that those in authority have the ability to solve complex problems.
Changing that perspective is extraordinarily difficult, often because of the nature of good and bad news: The former usually happens slowly and invisibly, while the latter often happens dramatically and all at once.
Take the program created in the Energy Department under George W. Bush to provide loans to innovative energy technologies. If most Americans had heard of it, it was because of one company: Solyndra, a manufacturer of innovative but overly expensive solar panels. Undercut by a decline in prices of traditional panels, the company went under, and its $535 million loan was never repaid. Republicans made Solyndra’s failure into a major controversy, claiming that the program showed that government investment in green technology was corrupt, ineffective, and wasteful.
What few people heard about was that the loan program overall not only turned a profit at the time (and for what it’s worth, it still does), it also provided help to many successful companies, even if a few failed — as any venture capital investor could tell you is inevitable. The successes included Tesla, which used its federal loan to ramp up production of the sedans that would turn it from a niche manufacturer of electric roadsters into what it is today. Needless to say, Elon Musk does not advertise the fact that his success was built on government help.
More recently, the hurricane response has shown how partisan polarization can be used to undermine trust in government — especially when Donald Trump is involved. Trump took the opportunity of the hurricanes to accuse the federal government of being both political and partisan, delivering help only to those areas that vote for Democrats. Soon after, he promised to do precisely what he falsely accused the Biden administration of doing, saying that if he is president again, he will withhold disaster aid from California unless Gov. Gavin Newsom changes the state’s water policies to be more to Trump’s liking. “And we’ll say, Gavin, if you don’t do it, we’re not giving any of that fire money that we send you all the time for all the fire, forest fires that you have,” Trump said. And in fact, in his first term Trump did try to withhold disaster aid from blue states.
What sounds like hypocrisy is actually something much more pernicious. As he often does, Trump is arguing not that he is clean and his opponents are dirty, but that everyone is dirty, and it’s just a question of whether government is in the hands of our team or their team. When he says he’ll “drain the swamp,” he’s telling people both that government is corrupt, and the answer is merely to change who gets the spoils. If you believe him, you’ll have no trust in government whatsoever, even if you might think he’ll use it in a way you’ll approve of.
We’ve seen again and again that people want government to perform well and get angry when it doesn’t, but they don’t reward competence when it happens. Which is why making sure systems operate properly and problems are solved is necessary but not sufficient to win back trust. Government’s advocates — especially those who are counting on it to undertake ambitious climate action both now and in the future — need not only to deliver, they have to get better at, for lack of a better word, propaganda. Policy success is not its own advertisement. And despite his ample policy achievements, Joe Biden has not been a charismatic and effective messenger — on the role of government, or much else.
Ronald Reagan used to say that the most frightening words in the English language were “I’m from the government and I’m here to help”; the oft-repeated quip was at the center of his incredibly successful effort to delegitimize government in the eyes of voters. To reverse the decline of trust so people will believe that government has the knowledge and ability to tackle climate change, the public needs to be reminded — often and repeatedly — of what government does well.
Touting past and present successes on climate — and disaster relief, and so many other ways the government solves problems every day — is essential to building support for future climate initiatives. Those successes are all around, it’s just that most people never hear about them or take them for granted. But promoting government as an engine of positive change should be as high a priority for climate advocates, including those who hold public office, as discrediting government was for Reagan and is for Trump.
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Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”
Current conditions: A sleepy Atlantic hurricane season just snapped to attention as two tropical storms started forming near the Caribbean and off Africa’s coast • Southern California is bracing for a week of triple-digit temperatures • The Hawk Fire has forced 42,000 people to evacuate an area near Reno, Nevada.
The Environmental Protection Agency plans to repeal a federal rule requiring states to publicize and solicit comments on applications for air pollution permits for various industrial facilities, including new data centers and power plants that provide the electricity they need. The move, The New York Times cautioned, “could prevent residents from raising concerns about — or even learning about — data centers before permits are approved and construction starts.” Three-quarters of Americans now oppose data centers built near their homes, according to the latest polling from Heatmap Pro. That’s up from less than half last year.
The Trump administration’s effort to curb public input comes as local opposition to data centers reaches an intensity that frequently draws comparisons to a moral panic. In a post on X last week, one commentator compared the backlash to a 2004 newspaper clip in which a pregnant woman photographed smoking a cigarette complains that the sound of jackhammers from construction on her block posed a risk to her unborn child. A video circulating on Facebook this week showed the former mayor of the Upstate New York town of Massena, where census data shows one in four residents lives below the poverty line, pleading with residents to consider the benefits of data centers. “They’re data centers. They’re being built somewhere. Communities are accepting these things,” he said, urging residents holding protest signs to listen with an open mind to experts about how a proposed facility would be built. “I know for a fact we have aging infrastructure. It’s just going to get worse. How do you fix that? We’re losing people left and right in this community. Look at the number of boarded-up houses. Look at the number of businesses that are going out of business … You can’t afford the time it’s going to take to research for three years when these things are being built today.”
As you may recall, the Trump administration last week imposed harsh water cuts on the three states in the Lower Basin of the Colorado River: Arizona, California, and Nevada. This week, Nevada Governor Joe Lombardo, a Republican, announced litigation filed in federal district court challenging the Department of the Interior’s plan, arguing that the cuts unfairly harm downstream states like his. The lawsuit makes Nevada the first of the three states to launch what E&E News called a “legal war” against the policy. Under the Trump administration’s proposed plan, southern Nevada could lose more than 70% of what Lombardo called its “already meager Colorado River allocation,” even though Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Wyoming “are not required to contribute a drop.” The governor, who is up for reelection, continued: “This isn’t about political posturing; this is a matter of survival for a community that represents about two-thirds of our state’s citizens and the lion’s share of its economy.”
Between 2010 and 2024, the United States imported about 59 terawatt-hours of electricity per year from Canada, and exported roughly 13 terawatt-hours back north across the border. America’s appetite for Canadian electricity is only likely to increase as our northern neighbors build more nuclear reactors, hydroelectric dams, and offshore turbines in areas such as the Northeast, among (I say, haughtily clearing my throat as a fourth-generation New Yorker) the most densely populated and culturally powerful parts of the entire U.S. Now that’s under threat as Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney plays hardball with President Donald Trump in floundering trade talks. After summoning home its trade negotiators over the weekend, Ottawa announced retaliatory tariffs against the U.S. on Tuesday, slapping levies of up to 50% on about $20 billion in goods. On Monday, Ontario Premier Doug Ford said his province could cut off electricity and critical mineral exports to the U.S. “We power 1.5 million homes and businesses,” Ford told the Associated Press. “Everything’s on the table. I’ll do whatever it takes.” While the BBC reported that “squeezing the U.S. on energy is not a current countermeasure,” it also said that such a response “hasn’t been ruled out.” In statements to Utility Dive, the grid operators in New York and New England said new tariffs would not affect reliability, though the latter region cautioned that it could face problems during extreme weather events.
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European buyers of liquified natural gas paid $22.83 for a million British thermal units at the start of this week, more than double the price a year ago and the highest since 2023, according to the Financial Times. The surge came as Iran struck an oil tanker trying to cross the Strait of Hormuz, damaging its engine room and halting the ship. Trump said Tuesday that all underwater mines the Iranian military had laid were now cleared from the waterway. Tehran is set to begin talks with neutral Oman on a route for fully reopening the strait, the Oman Observer reported.
The spike in European LNG prices serves as a reminder of the benefits for the U.S. of becoming the world’s top producer of natural gas and exporter of the version that’s super-chilled to a liquid state for more efficient transportation. LNG, as my colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote in February, “is the ultimate bogeyman” for many progressives and climate activists. But the American industry, transformed by the fracking revolution over the past two decades, had more than enough supply to help Europe stay warm and keep the lights on in 2022, when Russia started throttling the pipelines selling gas to Ukraine’s allies after the start of the war. “The world is going to keep needing natural gas at least until 2050, and likely well beyond that,” John Hebert, a senior policy adviser at the advocacy group Third Way who is pushing for Democrats to embrace LNG, told Matthew. “The focus, in our view, should be much more on how we reduce emissions from the oil and gas value chain and less on actually trying to phase out these fuels entirely.”

When I visited the Netherlands’ lone nuclear power station in 2022, the single-reactor plant, called Borssele, stood alone next to a demolition site dismantling the power station. But soon the country plans to finally expand its atomic power sector. On Tuesday, NucNet reported that the Dutch nuclear energy agency had signed contracts with France’s EDF and the U.S.-based Westinghouse Electric Company for design studies on at least two new reactors. The advancing plans are a sign of how quickly things are changing in the region. At the end of my visit six years ago, I stood atop a high berm — classic Dutch engineering to reclaim the land and keep the floodwaters at bay — at the end of the facility and caught a glimpse at northern Belgium. Back then, Brussels was shutting down its own nuclear fleet. Now, as I reported earlier this year, the country has nationalized its reactors and plans to revive its industry.
Wildfire smoke is nasty stuff. That’s not news to anyone living in the American West, but we in the Northeast learned the hard way just how harmful it is when Canadian smoke poured into our cities this summer and in 2023. But that smoke can have a benefit, at least when rain carries it into soil: It acts as a fertilizer. A new study found that smoke-rain events can deliver large bursts of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium as black soot in the air mixes with water droplets. “It’s important to remember that what goes up must come down,” Alexandra Ponette-González, an urban ecologist at the University of Utah and Natural History Museum of Utah and the lead author of the paper, said in a statement. “There’s so much focus on what goes up and how that affects human health. We’re interested in everything that falls out of the atmosphere and lands on ecosystems, and what that means for our environment.”