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Home to two million people, the Gaza Strip sits squeezed between Israel and the Mediterranean Sea on a bit of land just twice the size of Washington, D.C. Gaza is the smaller part of Palestine’s two territories; you could walk the length of its southern border with Egypt in under three hours. But land is not the only thing that’s long been in short supply in Gaza. As the war between Israel and Hamas, the Palestinian militant group that rules the region, has made clear, Gaza is also increasingly bereft of water.
Over the course of the tragic war, water infrastructure has played an unprecedented role. In the aftermath of Hamas’s massacre and kidnapping of Israeli civilians on October 7, the Israeli government took measures to halt drinking water — as well as aid, food, and electricity — from entering the Strip. First, on October 9, Israel shut off the pipelines that usually send water into Gaza and halted deliveries by truck. And while it turned back on some of the pipelines on October 15, it didn’t restart the electricity or the fuel shipments that power Gaza’s desalination and wastewater treatment plants.
Yet these harsh measures in recent weeks belie a much longer-term problem, as a deeper dive into the region’s infrastructure reveals. Palestinians in Gaza have not had access to safe or ample drinking water for decades.
“The water crisis that Gaza is facing is a chronic crisis,” Dr. Shaddad Attili, the former Palestinian minister of water and head of the Palestinian Water Authority (PWA) from 2008 to 2014, told me. “But now water is being used as a weapon. If they don’t get killed by missiles, they will die from the contaminated water that they’re using.”
The Israeli Defense Forces, the water authority in the West Bank, and COGAT, the Israeli body responsible for the government activities in the Palestinian territories, all did not reply to requests for comment by the time of publication.
There are three natural water resources that run through Israel and Palestine: the Jordan River Basin on the eastern border; the Mountain Aquifer, which runs directly through the West Bank; and the Coastal Aquifer, on which Israel is upstream and Gaza is downstream. The majority of the water comes from these three sources, but since the region is a desert geography, water is generally in short supply.
Israel acquired control over all the water that runs through the Israeli and Palestinian territories in the Six-Day War in 1967 when it seized the Gaza Strip from Egypt, the West Bank from Jordan, and the Golan Heights in the north from Syria. In November of that year, Israel introduced a military order stating that Palestinians could not construct any new water infrastructure without first obtaining a permit from the Israeli army. Israel gave, and continues to give, these permits sparingly.
Today, the water discrepancy is striking. While there are eight times more Palestinians living in the West Bank than Israeli settlers, 70% of the water output is given to the settlements, where it is largely used for farming, according to an April 2023 report on the West Bank’s water deprivation by the Israeli humanitarian organization, B’Tselem.
During the Oslo Accords in the mid-1990s, the West Bank won some rights to run their own pumping stations in select parts of the territory. Today, they still need to earn permits from the Israeli military in order to build new pumping stations. Gaza used to pump their water from the Coastal Aquifer, but developments over the past 30 years have made that water inaccessible.
Prior to this war, the water situation in Gaza was already dire. The World Health Organization said that Gaza’s water supply was unable to meet the minimum requirement for daily per capita water consumption.
Gaza has some unregulated pumping stations that pull water up from the aquifer, but they’re not a major cause of the problem. The Coastal Aquifer extends from a town called Binyamina in Northern Israel to the Sinai Desert in Egypt. Just 2% of the total aquifer passes through Gaza. Through the late 1990s, it supplied drinkable tap water to most of Gaza’s residents. While it historically has provided 95% of their freshwater, it’s unusable now for a few reasons.
First, Gaza’s population growth rate is among the highest in the world, with almost half of the population under 18 years old in 2022. High population growth means the already scarce groundwater can no longer replenish fast enough to meet demand.
But there are deeper problems with the water’s quality. Seawater seeps into the aquifer since it’s so close to the coast and untreated wastewater has polluted the aquifer for decades to a point that it’s no longer safe to drink. In 2020, a study in the journal Water said that the quality of groundwater in the Coastal Aquifer had “deteriorated rapidly,” largely due to Israeli pumping.
“At least 95% of the freshwater (from the aquifer) is either inaccessible or not drinkable,” said Jordan Fischbach, director of planning and policy research at The Water Institute and author of a report on the public health impacts of Gaza’s water crisis in 2018.
As a result, the Coastal Aquifer — the primary source of Gaza’s water — is essentially out of commission. Residents of Gaza are now left with only about 20% of their needs filled.
But those sources have also proven to be unreliable.
The first are the pipelines, which were built with funding from international humanitarian aid. The pipelines run from Israel-controlled fresh aquifers and the water is paid for by the Palestinian National Authority (PA) in the West Bank. These are the pipelines that Israel stopped sending water from following Hamas’ attack on Israeli civilians.
But even in the best of times, the pipelines only supply around 10% of the water demand in Gaza. Attili from the Palestinian National Authority said that the water is combined with some of the unsafe brackish water in order to increase volume.
The second source of water are small-scale desalination plants, which turn seawater into potable water, but they rely on electricity to run.
Usually they provide another 10% of Gaza’s water, but when Israel halted the importation of fuel and shut down electricity transmission into Gaza, these plants stopped running too.
However, even when electricity and fuel are available, over one-third of plants are not monitored, maintained, or officially regulated. “A number of construction materials, fuel and other things you would need to build and power drinking and wastewater facilities are considered ‘dual use.’” said Fischbach, meaning they could also be used to build weapons. “These are types of materials that are restricted by both Egyptian and Israeli authorities.”
A 2021 study showed that 79% of desalination plants are unlicensed and 12% of water samples tested showed dangerous contamination levels.
“Desalination is necessary to get anything even close to drinking water quality and only a fraction of [desalination plants] are actually licensed and monitored” said Fischbach. “Many of them are producing water that we would still consider below drinking water quality.”
He added that most of them don’t run to their capacity anyways because they are so energy intensive and Gaza doesn’t have enough electricity.
Gaza also gets water from water trucks controlled by humanitarian aid or delivered by the Palestinian National Authority. This water passes directly through Israeli land, which means Israel was able to easily halt deliveries in the wake of the Hamas attacks.
In recent weeks, some residents of Gaza have resorted to drinking sea water or brackish water directly from the Coastal Aquifer. Not only are these not sources of freshwater, they are also further polluted by untreated sewage running through the region.
Israel’s decision to cut electricity to Gaza also meant that the wastewater treatment plants can’t run. Treated wastewater is used for showering and other sanitation uses. But when it’s not processed through a plant, wastewater runs into the aquifer and groundwater, further polluting what’s left of their drinking sources.
While the situation is worse due to the lack of electricity from the war, Gaza has never had ample wastewater treatment plants.
“For two decades now Palestinians have been prevented from building and maintaining the infrastructures that keep wastewater out of the aquifer,” says Sophia Stamatopoulou-Robbins, a cultural anthropologist and professor at Bard College. She is the author of Waste Siege: the Life and Infrastructure of Palestine.
In the West Bank, the aquifer is deep, carrying around 340 million cubic meters of water every year, so wastewater that has been somewhat treated can be further cleaned by soil and rock as it seeps through the aquifer. But Gaza’s aquifer is very shallow — its estimated to carry only about 55 million cubic meters per year —, and therefore cannot clean the water. Instead, it needs extensive infrastructure.
“In Gaza, you would need an incredibly high sophistication of technology to permit the wastewater to go safely into the ground,” says Stamatopoulou-Robbins. “Even the kind of concrete containers that would hold wastewater are not permitted to be maintained or built.”
In addition to the plants themselves, you would need piping to connect buildings to the wastewater treatment plants, she adds. “So all of the conveyance technology and infrastructure which is expensive anywhere in the world, all of that is subject to Israeli controls and tends to be prevented.”
As is the case with desalination plants, neither Israel nor Egypt allows the necessary materials into Gaza for building wastewater treatment plants because those materials are also considered dual-use materials.
Even as Israel turned the water and electricity back on, there are questions around how many of these desalination and wastewater treatment plants have been bombed and are no longer running.
As far as logistically turning off these resources, it’s fairly straightforward. “The ability to shut off electricity transmission is quite easy,” said Fischbach. “It’s just flipping a switch — the same way with a rolling blackout. Fuel imports are also easy. Nothing is going into Gaza. As far as drinking water lines, you can just not pump that water. So the logistics are easy.”
Several reports of hygiene related diseases spreading through cramped spaces are surfacing in recent days. Doctors in Gaza are saying that patients are showing signs of disease caused by overcrowding and poor sanitation. Children are suffering from diarrhea, lung infections, and rashes.
“The desalination plants are out of service because there’s no electricity, the sewage treatment plants are out of service because there is no electricity. And because our people now take refuge in shelters, there is a hygiene problem,” said Attili. “I have gone to so many conferences where we say water is a tool for cooperation, not conflict, and they all agree, but now the international community remains silent.”
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What 700 math problems say about the AI economy’s biggest open question
This is Heatmap Daily, an evening news digest written by our executive editor. Subscribe here.
Happy Monday and welcome back.
It’s been a big weekend: I’m fairly certain Saturday Night Live mentioned Heatmap’s data center polling in one of its Weekend Update segments over the weekend. Watch here.
There are 22 days to the midterm elections here in the United States. We’ll soon enter that pre-election wormhole where only national politics can break through. So today I wanted to look at a story that might, on its face, seem like it has nothing to do with climate or energy. And warning: It’s a little bit of a weird one.
Last week, OpenAI released what it described as the solution to more than 700 open problems in mathematics. Many of the problems, such as the Quasi-Riemann hypothesis, had gone unsolved for decades. Some of the solutions came with proofs written in the programming language Lean.
The release made a stir in part because OpenAI had reached the solutions by using an internal model — that is, a version of ChatGPT not yet open to the general public. In a statement, the Association for Human Mathematics lambasted OpenAI for using an internal model to do research, violating what it described as a precept of AI-driven math research. (I’ve since seen speculation that OpenAI may not have even meant to solve the problems, but gave them to the internal model as a test … and then got the answers.) It’s also not clear whether all of OpenAI’s 700 solutions are correct — in many cases the proofs are so intricate that mathematicians are still wrapping their heads around them.
“There are some sad stories related to their users getting scooped [and] conflicts of interest,” Levent Alpöge, a mathematician at Anthropic, posted on X. “It’s obviously the most significant moment in mathematical history.”
On Friday night, the UCLA mathematician Terence Tao gave a pre-planned lecture at Caltech about what he called “Math 2.0”; it considered the revolution the field had seemingly undergone in the previous few days. (He posted the slides to his blog over the weekend, and I’m using them to summarize his talk here.) For most of math’s history, he said, the field operated under “proof scarcity,” in which finding a solution to an open math problem and confirming it as true was “difficult and rare,” requiring “significant human expertise.”
But AI, it has turned out, is well suited to solving math problems. This is partly because math, like the large language models themselves, is entirely conceptual, so confirming a proof as true requires no recourse to the physical. But it’s also because math’s solutions are “objectively verifiable”: “There is broad consensus on what constitutes a correct and complete proof of a given problem,” and thanks to the existence of proof programming languages like Lean, they can even be checked by computer.
The end result is that math is now entering a world of “proof abundance,” he said.
That is, perhaps surprisingly, a problem for math’s practitioners, and it will mandate a new intellectual regime for the discipline. Mathematicians have often used open problems as “lighthouses,” Tao wrote, “not destinations to be reached … but useful guides to explore the mathematical landscape.” Mathematicians often learn more in the solving than in the solution, in other words. But if mathematicians can now generate shortcuts to math problems without knowing how they got there, or even how the problem works, then actual human mathematical understanding will suffer. (One way to understand this is that mathematicians are now dealing with the same problem that math teachers have faced since the invention of the pocket calculator: How do you confirm students actually understand the material? Except the world’s most elite mathematicians themselves are the students in question.)
This disconnect can pose its own AI alignment problems, Tao said, analogizing math to pharmaceuticals. Suppose an advanced AI found what appears to be a cure for cancer that can pass a stage 3 clinical trial: “After a large amount of compute, it produces a cocktail of previously unknown chemicals which it claims, when mixed and injected into a patient, will kill all their cancer cells,” he said. It even generates a programmatic proof of the cocktail’s effectiveness.
“Before injecting this cocktail into your bloodstream,” he asked, “would you find it reassuring to know that there is at least one human cancer expert who understands — even partially — the mechanism behind this cure?” If not, you can see mathematicians’ problem, confronted by a surfeit of proofs that seem to work, but nobody who can explain how or why they do.
Now, Tao’s analogy is somewhat peculiar because something like this actually does happen all the time in medicine: Doctors still don’t fully understand how many drugs work, including acetaminophen, SSRIs, and lithium. (That said, those compounds were identified by trial and error, not by a mechanical superintelligence.) But the broader situation that Tao is painting — as well as the crisis posed by OpenAI’s 700 proofs — get at a significant question with economic importance far beyond just math: Will AI solve the economy’s secular attention shortage or worsen it?
This question has greater import than it may seem — but let me qualify what I mean by “attention shortage.” Writing in 1971, the economist Herber Simon observed the sudden superabundance of information that had exploded in every economic domain. There were more facts, data, news articles, and opportunities than any individual or organization knew what to do with. He pointed out that this newfound “wealth” of information implied an insufficiency of something else: attention.
“What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients,” he wrote in Designing Organizations for an Information-Rich World. “Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it.”
He wrote this, of course, well before the advent of internet, smartphones, sensors, or networked cameras — all of which have worsened the problem. But in the ensuing half century, the economy has learned to deal (or at least intermittently manage) this secular scarcity of attention. Much of what we now call knowledge work is devoted to filtering, siphoning, processing, and otherwise attending to the information superabundance.
AI is, in theory, supposed to help address this same set of problems. AI is commodified attention — or, at least, that is its promise. (The most important machine learning paper of the past decade, after all, is entitled “Attention Is All You Need.”) Many AI products, such as Meta’s Muse, now want you to believe that by ceding control of your email, your calendar, your restaurant reservations, and your digital life to AI, you will gain an attentional edge. The AI will do the grunt-work of attending to boring things for you, and you will feel less overwhelmed. If this vision comes true, the economy’s mismatch of information and attention will prove to be a short-lived historical blip.
But the past week of math news and Tao’s “Math 2.0” regime suggest a different scenario is more likely, at least in the immediate near term. By allowing far faster and more automated information production, AI will create a new, more vicious, and even more abstract form of information overload. Every profession and intellectual discipline will be overwhelmed with new papers, ideas, observations, proofs, or choices. Yet the human understanding required to convert this new information into useful action will become even more scarce. In such a world, AI will not solve the economy’s attention shortage, but worsen it.
I’m not sure which world would be worse for humanity, to be candid. One world suggests the eventual automation of all human effort. But in Tao’s world, many of us might still have jobs — they will just involve even more filtering, sorting, and processing of an ever-deepening pile of automated idea generation than we do today.
And what is the connection to climate and energy? One easy connection might be to the permitting process: If you think a new transit line (at the local level) or transmission line (at the state or federal level) could be overwhelmed with procedural concerns 10 years ago, wait until you see what happens when information itself can be mechanically produced. But that is only one example of a more general problem. Soon, if not already, any process of providing input to an important policy question — on energy, decarbonization, or anything else — will be overwhelmed with facially high-quality analysis. It will be left to policy officials and elected leaders to sort through it.
This past weekend’s storms caused flooding and property damage up and down the coast — and it’s going to get worse.
California has around 3,400 miles of shoreline, ranging from the wild, foggy beaches of the North Coast to the sunbather-studded sands of Orange and San Diego counties. That’s a whole lot of border to share with the Pacific Ocean, especially when the water is as hot and tempestuous a neighbor as it is right now.
Just ask the city of Long Beach, which this weekend was on the receiving end of some Super El Niño mischief. Swells from the storm briefly dubbed Hurricane Rachel “annihilated” beachfront mansions and flooded city streets, causing pieces of the local boardwalk to “shred away.” “It’s never happened like this before,” one resident of 64 years told the New York Post.
But while things might look bad in California at the moment, they can still get much worse. One disaster modeler recently estimated the state could see as much as $3 billion in flooding and mudslide-related losses alone this winter — not to mention coastal erosion, king tides, and storm swell. Governor Gavin Newsom declared a state of emergency at the end of September, while many cities, including San Diego, have declared their own local emergencies.
El Niño will likely peak in December, meaning that towns and cities across the state have just a few remaining weeks to finalize projects, whether that means improving drainage in landslide-prone environments such as Rancho Palos Verdes or distributing NOAA weather radios in areas likely to lose power, as emergency managers are in Santa Cruz. The approaching winter storms, combined with El Niño, represent “a humbling reminder of the ongoing effects of climate change and the importance of emergency preparedness,” Laath Martin, the public affairs lead for the city of Long Beach, wrote to me in an email.
El Niño is a cyclical phenomenon, occurring when temperatures in a particular stretch of the Pacific Ocean rise half-a-degree Celsius above the average of the preceding 30 years. But there are signs these natural variations are happening less predictably because of climate change, and we know for sure that a warmer atmosphere makes the baseline for its impacts worse: king tides, Kelvin waves, and storm surge piggyback on top of rising sea levels to result in more severe coastal flooding and erosion. A warmer atmosphere also holds more water, which means more rain — perhaps 200% above normal — which, in turn, results in flooding and mudslides further inland, as well.
“Based on what I am seeing now, I am officially concerned,” Daniel Swain, a climate scientist at the University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources, said last week after reviewing the latest outlook. There’s a reason this year’s El Niño is being called a Godzilla.
In general, the weather pattern causes the jet stream to shift south in the winter, bringing wetter and snowier conditions to the lower U.S. while the northern part of the country stays drier and mild. (It’s also responsible for a weaker Atlantic hurricane season, as we’ve already seen this year.) In addition to El Niño-driven Kelvin waves, warm bulges of water that raise the sea level on the coast by as much as 18 inches, the state of California — and particularly southern California — sits directly in a storm track that will deliver “atmospheric rivers” of heavy rain to a region prone to landslides and flash floods.
In many parts of the state, that rain will test the best-made plans in addition to plans deferred. In Los Angeles, the Department of Sanitation and Environment, or LASAN, has told the City Council it has concerns about the ability of the aging wastewater pipes and plants to handle heavy rainfall associated with a supercharged El Niño. In San Diego, which requires some $3.3 billion to upgrade what is in some places a century-old wastewater system, emergency managers are preparing to work with what they have by clearing debris and brush that could back up in the drains, CalMatters reports. In both cases, the time required for systemwide repairs far exceeds the time remaining before the winter’s supercharged atmospheric rivers are due to arrive. (Rezende told me inland flooding affects more businesses and residents in San Diego than coastal flooding, since the population in the city is set further back from the coastline.)
The city of Roseville, northeast of Sacramento, by contrast, is leaning on decades of flood planning to get through the season. After a series of back-to-back storms in 1986 that killed 13 people and caused $400 million in damage, the city and FEMA invested $39 million to upgrade Roseville’s infrastructure, including widening streams and adding levees and stormwater bypass channels. With more accurate floodplain modeling that has “helped keep new construction at higher elevations,” Helen Dyda, the city manager’s public information officer told me that “less than 7% of the city is within a floodplain” today. Dyda added that the city prepares for winter storms every year — it has some 160 miles of creek shoreline, after all — but that the El Niño-specific preparations are, as a result, more similar to routine maintenance: “clearing more dense vegetation and fallen trees from key creek areas.”
Long Beach is caught somewhere in the middle. After swells from Hurricanes Marie and Polo hammered the city in September, Long Beach hastily developed a seven-point plan to strengthen its peninsula in the near and long term. It will also begin a $11.4 million dredging project this fall that will place 415,000 cubic yards of sand on the beach as a buffer zone. “While this effort will achieve a much-desired result, it will not stop the ocean from pulling sand from the peninsula with every wave, especially during the significant weather systems Long Beach continues to experience,” Martin, the city’s public affairs lead, wrote to me. “Back-passing will need to continue to return sand back to the peninsula each day until more permanent, long-term man-made and environmental solutions can be identified, permitted and implemented.”
In certain cities, preparations for the peak of El Niño overlap with ongoing repairs from the last bad storm season. In Santa Cruz County, the 2016 El Niño caused an estimated $9 million in damage, while many in the community of Pajaro are still recovering from the flood damage caused by a series of severe atmospheric rivers in 2023. “We have a list of hazards that the city is vulnerable to, and we plan for all of them not individually, but all together,” Meredith Albert, Santa Cruz’s emergency management manager, told me. She added that many of the city’s preparedness activities and El Niño initiatives, like urging the community to be prepared to spend 72 hours unsupported, overlap with other disasters it works year-round to prepare for, like earthquakes, landslides, and wildfires.
“El Niño turns up the volume a little bit, but it doesn’t necessarily change our hazard landscape,” is how Albert put it to me.
Santa Cruz has not declared a local state of emergency, and Albert told me they won’t until they “run out of resources.” Other cities, like San Diego, have declared one preemptively. “In the past, you’d have to go through a longer review if you wanted to make some headway on projects, and sometimes that would take many weeks or many months of permitting,” Rezende said. “With a state of emergency, we streamline that process and get projects in the queue.”
Both Rezende and Albert told me the governor's statewide emergency declaration mostly helps state agencies position themselves for a faster response or has implications for higher-level permitting processes. (In Carlsbad, for example, which has seven miles of badly eroding beach, just one mile is controlled by the city; the other six are managed by the State Parks.) The state has also teamed up with ICEYE, a satellite imaging company, to receive information about flooding even in the dark or through rain clouds.
No state of emergency, though, can make it so a city can replace a century-old sewer system by Christmas or reengineer a beach by the time January’s storms begin to make landfall. But if a Godzilla analogy fits the onslaught of a super El Niño, it also offers a classic disaster-movie lesson on how to survive it.
Albert’s advice for how to prepare? Ask a neighbor for a cup of sugar. Take their dog for a walk. Build a relationship that could prevent a tragedy. “We know that our city will be cut off for at least a couple of days,” she told me of a hypothetical major disaster, referring back to Santa Cruz’s experience after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, which cut off the city’s power, communication, and supply lines. “And we also know that we can’t build those relationships during the disaster. We’re trying to build them before.”
The city is doing a lot to prepare for the storm, she said. “But the question is also, what are all of us doing?” Albert went on. “You know better than I do, at the city level, who’s not going to receive that alert,” whether that be an elderly or unhoused neighbor or a nonnative English speaker who might not receive or understand emergency communications.
“Check in on a neighbor” is easier said than done — active engagement and connection to one’s community is trending downward in most parts of the U.S. But the people and places that bounce back from disaster and tragedy are almost uniformly the ones that look after each other. Borrowing a cup of sugar, to this introvert, sounds like a nightmare. But there’s never been a better time than a Godzilla El Niño to bake a poorly resourced cake.
Heatmap News is looking for an ambitious, energetic senior editor to join our growing newsroom.
The senior editor will report to the deputy editor of the website and will be tasked with assisting in running all aspects of our coverage. This individual will be the primary editor on many of the site’s stories, including breaking news, features, and long-term projects, on topics ranging from permitting reform to decarbonized fuels to greenhouse gas accounting to the electric vehicle market. This person will also play a role in overseeing and furthering our cross-platform efforts such as newsletters, events, and podcasts. Additional duties will include managing and maintaining the site’s social media presence and digital production on stories, newsletters, and podcasts.
Candidates should be intellectually curious news junkies with a deep interest in climate change and the energy transition. They should have a proven ability to work in a fast-paced digital newsroom, spot great angles, line edit stories, and change hats quickly as needed. They should also be responsible, reliable, and a good colleague.
Candidates should have 5+ years experience editing for a digital publication. A background in climate or energy coverage is an obvious plus, but compelling candidates from other verticals, particularly politics and business, will also be considered. Heatmap is a fully remote workplace, so candidates from all U.S. locales are encouraged to apply.
Above all, candidates should be passionate about Heatmap’s mission and absolutely thrilled about building something from the ground up.
The salary minimum is $100,000 and the maximum is $120,000. Competitive benefits, unlimited paid time off, and a generous equity plan, which gives employees a real stake in the company, are also offered. This position is remote.
Interested candidates should send a brief cover letter and resume to editors@heatmap.news with the subject line ‘Senior Editor Application.’
Heatmap News is a media platform focused on the energy transition.
Heatmap News is an equal opportunity employer. All qualified applicants will receive consideration for employment without regard to sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, race, color, religion, national origin, disability, protected veteran status, age, or any other characteristic protected by applicable law.
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