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Counties that veered from Obama in 2008 to Trump in 2016 are more likely to oppose renewables development.

In Texas, the Oak Run Solar Project would have been a slam dunk.
Developers would install 800 megawatts of solar panels — enough to power 800,000 homes — across nine square miles of unused land. It would devote some of its acreage to new farming practices that incorporate solar panels. And it would sell its electricity cheaply — and profitably — because it was near the state capital and because it could take advantage of a pre-existing onsite connection to the regional power grid.
But Oak Run wasn’t proposed in Texas. It was proposed in Ohio, and that means it has faced enormous opposition. Ohio has some of the country’s strictest restrictions on solar development, and 10 counties have blocked solar development outright.
Although Madison County, where Oak Run was proposed, is not one of them, the blowback to the project cost a local Republican county commissioner his job. Oak Run was eventually approved by the state’s power siting board earlier this year, but its opponents are now appealing that decision in the state’s Supreme Court.
Madison County, Ohio, also illustrates the political transformation that has revolutionized the upper Midwest. The predominantly rural county near the state’s capital, Columbus, has favored Republicans since the 1960s. But in recent decades it has swung hard to the right. In 2008, Barack Obama won nearly 40% of the county’s vote. Eight years later, Hillary Clinton picked up just 27%.
These two facts may seem like they have little to do with each other. But they point to one of the biggest trends in clean energy development across the country: The counties that voted for Barack Obama in 2008 and then Donald Trump in 2016 are some of the worst places in the country to permit and build renewable projects.
The size of a county’s swing from 2008 to 2016 is one of the biggest predictors of whether a proposed wind or solar project will be contested or blocked, according to a new Heatmap Pro analysis of more than 8,500 projects and local policies around the country.
The magnitude of that swing is by far the most important political variable to emerge from Heatmap Pro’s analysis of more than 60 risk factors influencing community support or opposition to renewable projects. It is more strongly associated with a given project’s success than whether a county votes for Democratic or Republican candidates overall.
The only variables that are more closely correlated than the 2008-to-2016 swing are fundamental measures of a region’s population or local economy, such as its median income, racial demographics, or dominant industries. Towns and regions that heavily depend on farming, for instance, have become particularly reluctant to accept new solar projects in recent years.
Heatmap Pro’s analysis focused not only on whether a county’s residents support wind or solar projects in theory, but also on whether renewable projects proposed in the area are canceled, contested, or exposed to political turbulence. It surveyed more than 7,000 wind and solar projects proposed and built across the United States since the 1990s.
Many of the counties with the largest Obama-to-Trump swings have passed proposals meant to limit renewable development. Vermillion County in Indiana — where more than a quarter of voters swung from Obama to Trump — has an extensive set of restrictions on new solar projects. Solar projects in Elk County, Pennsylvania, which saw a similar swing, have also turned out against solar projects using up “prime farmland.”
There are a few reasons why the Obama-to-Trump swing might be associated with more opposition to renewables.
In 2008, solar and wind were still frontier technologies and were not price-competitive with fossil fuels. Although vaguely associated with Democrats, politicians on both sides of the aisles championed wind and solar so as to wean the country off foreign oil.
But in the following decade, the U.S. increased its solar capacity by roughly 100-fold, while it has more than doubled its installed wind capacity.. Today, solar and wind energy are major features of the electricity system, and many Republicans have openly embraced fossil fuels and cast doubt on the value of cleaner alternatives.
To be sure, the Obama-to-Trump swing was influenced by other social and economic factors, as well as a state’s specific political environment. Leah Stokes, a UC Santa Barbara political scientist who has studied the growing local opposition to wind farms, told me that the correlation with Obama-Trump voters may originate from Trump’s dominance of the upper Midwest in 2016. Because a small group of anti-renewable advocates can change an entire region’s policies, that could lead to more opposition to renewables in one part of the country or another.
“Is there a person, or a network of people, who are going place by place pushing these anti-solar and wind local laws? That would lead to a geographic concentration,” she said.
Even within individual counties, the electorate wasn’t the same in 2016 as it was in 2008. Throughout the 2010s, tens of millions of Americans moved around the country, with the largest net change moving from the Northeast to the South. Cities became younger on average, while rural areas and suburbs became older.
Even within counties, a different set of voters showed up to the polls in each election. One reason why the 2012 election might not be correlated with opposition to renewables is that many voters who voted for Obama in 2008 skipped the next cycle. Those same voters — many of whom were white and working class — showed back up in 2016 and backed Trump.
What is driving the opposition to renewables? Perhaps a county’s swing against renewable energy is happening precisely because voters there are persuadable. From 2008 to 2016, many voters in these counties changed their minds about which candidate or political party to support. As they shifted their stance to the right, they also adopted more seemingly Republican views about wind and solar development. Donald Trump has distinguished himself by his embrace of fossil fuels and climate change skepticism — perhaps as voters come to support him, they also adopt his positions.
What’s interesting, however, is that deep red counties that have not seen a political shift — places that backed, say, McCain and Romney by roughly the same margin as they backed Trump in 2016 — continue to build wind and solar at a good clip. Texas, for instance, is the No. 1 state for renewable deployment. A county’s partisanship, in other words, is not as good a predictor of its opposition to renewables as its swinginess.
Edgar Virguez, an energy systems engineer at the Carnegie Institution for Science at Stanford University, has studied what drives opposition to renewables in North Carolina. He told me that some of the same factors that predict a county’s Trump support — such as its population density and education level — also predict whether that county has enacted a local restriction on renewable energy.
When he and his colleagues studied local policies in North Carolina, they found that lower density and less educated counties “had significantly higher reductions in the land available for solar development” when compared with denser or more educated counties, he said. Once a county has fewer than 35 people per square mile, or when less than 20% of the population has a bachelor’s degree, the number of restrictions on local land use shot up. That’s a problem for decarbonization, he added, because less dense counties also usually have the best and most affordable land available for solar development.
That finding may not hold true in other states. Heatmap, for instance, has found that whiter and more educated counties are more likely to oppose renewables. And to some degree, less dense counties are exactly where you’d expect to see more solar and wind projects get built — and thus more local policies restricting them pop up. But it is nonetheless not great news for advocates, given that a couple of America’s political institutions — namely, the Senate and the Electoral College — favor rural voters or Midwestern states. If the trend takes root, then it could eventually curtail renewable development across the country. That question — and many others — will partly be decided in this week’s presidential election.
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A new version of the bill strives to address environmental and tribal concerns while strengthening some of its transmission provisions.
We now have the updated final text of the bipartisan Senate permitting deal. Will it be enough to get the bill across the finish line?
On Saturday morning, senators released a reworked version of the Bipartisan Affordability and American Jobs Act. This version, known as a “manager’s amendment” under parliamentary procedure, aims to address many of the concerns and criticisms raised about the bill and will become the official legislative text that ultimately gets a vote in the Senate. There’s something in these changes for everyone – environmentalists, tribes, utilities – but it remains to be seen if they put the bill into a Goldilocks zone.
Let’s walk through some of the most significant changes. There are a lot of changes, and we’re sure people will spend the coming weeks poring over them, but here are a few key ones.
The amendment preserves — and even strengthens — many of the bill’s most important (and praised) transmission provisions, while addressing and easing some of the loudest Republican criticisms of the bill.
The new text leaves the bill’s core transmission mechanisms intact: Every grid region will have to run a long-term planning process with its neighbors, overseen by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, focused on how it can build more interregional lines. The bill lays out how these new power lines should be paid for, via a cost allocation formula that says customers who benefit from the lines need to pay for them. And it creates a new federal siting backstop, which allows the federal government to step in and approve the route for a line if a state has refused to do so.
The amendment deals with one of the provisions that faced the most criticism from former Republican regulators and ends one — but not all — of the bill’s mandates for vertically integrated monopoly utilities, which are largely in the Southeast.
In return, it strengthens the bill’s federal backstop siting provision for transmission lines, and it makes the overall bill more useful for transmission developers. It also clarifies that transmission developers can use some of the bill’s expedited powers without needing to use all of them.
“I think there’s some really good improvements in [the new text], and they provide more flexibility for more types of projects to go through,” said Rob Gramlich, a longtime advocate of federal transmission reform and the president of Grid Strategies, a power sector consulting firm.
In the original bill, a transmission developer could apply for state permits and the FERC federal backstop permit at the same time. A former Republican FERC Commissioner Mark Christie had savaged that provision, arguing recently in Utility Dive that it “effectively renders the state proceeding meaningless, and states will perceive it exactly that way.”
Now, for some advocates, rendering the state process moot was the whole point. But it also wasn’t clear whether developers would ever actually go to FERC and states simultaneously. Doing so would shove a finger in the eye of state regulators, essentially telling them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” The amendment removes the possibility of a simultaneous process; now developers must go to states for a year before they apply for the federal backstop.
The new version of the bill also exempts vertically integrated utilities that aren’t in an electricity market from an otherwise mandatory new process that will require utilities to plan their long-term transmission and their power plant expansion at the same time. That new process is inspired by the planning process used in the Southwest Power Pool, a Midwestern electricity market Midwestern grid.
The Southeast’s monopoly utilities, which are vertically integrated and don’t participate in a regional transmission organization, had disliked that provision, and it wasn’t clear the bill as written actually worked for their operations. That requirement has now been removed from the bill. Utilities won another victory by preserving existing rights of first refusal to build transmission infrastructure in federal law.
But they didn’t win every fight. These utilities will still be subject to the mandate requiring them to participate in an interregional planning process for transmission.
And the utilities will remain subject to a provision, particularly praised by anti-monopoly advocates, that allows states and FERC to exercise oversight over local transmission projects that can drive up electricity costs. The new bill clarifies that state public utility regulators are responsible for asking FERC to investigate these types of projects, and that a utility can invite scrutiny even if it’s replacing an old line, not just building a new one.
“I am relieved that the section survived generally, given what a target this was for utility lobbying. It was strengthened significantly by covering replacement of local facilities in addition to new-build,” David Pomerantz, the executive director of the utility watchdog the Energy and Policy Institute, said in a statement.
In return, Democrats secured a few big changes in the bill that could benefit transmission developers. First, transmission projects will now be able to use the bill’s cost allocation formula even if they don’t use the federal backstop authority. Second, transmission developers will be able to use the bill’s cost allocation formula for only part of their projects.
This makes the bill better in a few ways for transmission developers. First, a developer could get a route entirely approved by the states without having to come up with a new way to pay for it — they can use the formula that’s already in the bill. It also means a power line could use the formula to monetize one of its benefits to the grid without using them all. That could sweeten the economics for projects meant to, say, arbitrage power between two regions, allowing it to make money off its reliability benefits without altering its broader economics.
The amendment also clarifies that the new federal backstop siting authority applies to state-owned land. That closes a potential loophole in which a state government could acquire land from a property owner in order to block a federally approved project from getting built.
The bill also makes some technical changes to the 230-kilovolt floor for projects that can use the federal backstop. It establishes that a line using advanced conductoring technology — which generally allows more electricity at lower voltage — can use the backstop even if it’s not at least 230 kilovolts. But it must have a throughput roughly similar to what a conventional line of 230 kilovolts would have.
The amendment also makes it clear that a utility can’t decline to upgrade a piece of infrastructure — even one at lower voltage — in order to block a transmission line. In 2021, the utility NextEra had fought a major power line in Maine because it required the utility to upgrade a single power circuit at its Seabrook nuclear plant in New Hampshire.
These provisions broadly strengthen the most popular parts of the bill and may address some concerns from southeastern utilities, which could have torpedoed the bill in the House of Representatives.
At the same time, new text attempts to assuage opposition in both the environmental and tribal advocacy spaces, and it’s undeniable that on first blush, the manager’s amendment does address complaints from those camps about the bill. But as we’ll explain however, it’s unclear if this will be good enough for either community to lay down their arms.
First, Senate negotiators clearly took complaints about the “project certainty” provision seriously, including by dealing with language that would allegedly protect unlawful actions. Under the new bill text, agencies will be explicitly allowed to revoke or alter permits “in response to an order by a court”. The prior text of the bill did not grant federal agencies this explicit jurisdiction and said it could only rely on court orders to make those permit changes if a judge required it. As our colleague Emily Pontecorvo recently wrote, some environmental lawyers were concerned that this original text would inadvertently protect individual permits granted under policies that violated the law.
Other changes are similarly geared towards addressing complaints in the environmental legal space. The original text of the bill allowed companies to sue the federal government for “disparate treatment” against their industry, which would theoretically assist renewable energy companies gain legal leverage against the Trump administration’s permitting freeze. However, the old text used a 5-year baseline of past projects for determining “disparate treatment,” which could mean the president’s anti-wind and pro-fossil actions weren’t built into the baseline. The new bill extends that baseline to 10 years, potentially diluting the influence of Trumpian permitting practices over the next administration.
New language would explicitly stipulate that court settlements brought under these lawsuits must be approved by a court, an apparent nod to claims from critics that this provision could encourage more offshore wind buyouts.
The new text also cuts out or modifies reforms to the National Historic Preservation Act geared towards addressing complaints from Native American tribes. It strikes a controversial attempt to define “property of traditional religious or cultural importance” that was in the original text, and it eliminates a much-maligned provision that would let the Interior Secretary assume the role of a tribal historic preservation officer in certain cases.
These changes were insufficient to thaw the bloc of tribes opposed to the bill. The 106 Coalition, a group of tribal organizations including the National College of American Indians, sent a statement to media saying they’ll still oppose the bill and want the entire section of NHPA changes removed. The leader of the Coalition of Large Tribes, which has pushed for technical fixes to the bill but not opposed it outright, said in a statement it was “grateful to see many positive changes for tribes” but added there was “still room for improvement.”
Lastly, the new version of the bill adds another provision to address concerns that it doesn’t do enough to address the national backlash to data centers, which opponents have argued is necessary.
As we’ve explained, the bill already would create the toughest measure against data centers ever enacted – a ratepayer protection program that would let states and utilities require data centers to pay full freight for system upgrades. And now the bill would additionally create a new federal Data Center Community Assistance Program within the Energy Department whereby local communities could request assistance from agencies to get information and technical expertise on how data centers work and what impacts specific projects could have on their areas. The language mirrors legislation introduced last month by Sens. John Curtis of Utah and Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware.
Such a program could be a big deal. But it’s important to emphasize that the text leaves a lot of details to be worked out. It does not say how this program would be set up within the Energy Department and the provision does not explicitly lay out funding authorization language.
The amendment also closes a loophole that might have allowed data centers with behind-the-meter natural gas power plants to profit by selling excess power to the grid. The original bill contained a provision meant to force grids to allow more residential batteries or the creation of virtual power plants. But that provision, as written, could have applied to behind-the-meter gas plants at data centers. The new text clarifies that the requirement only applies to resources below 5 megawatts, which is smaller than a data center power source.
It remains to be seen whether these changes and the myriad other tweaks to the bill’s project certainty and historic preservation titles will win over lawmakers previously hesitant to vote yes.
The Wilderness Society, whose president is Tracy Stone-Manning, Biden’s former director of the Bureau of Land Management, released a statement shortly after the new bill text was released reaffirming its opposition. “Americans deserve permitting reform that isn’t crafted behind closed doors and rushed to the Senate floor,” Manning said in a statement. Meanwhile, House Natural Resources Jared Huffman provided comments to Punchbowl News reacting to the text that said some of the changes to the permit certainty provision represented an “improvement” but “we could improve it further in this and other areas with a hearing and a more open negotiation process with more Democrats in the room.”
It’s unclear these voices would ultimately ever support this bill. “Manager’s [amendment] does a good job of accounting for the stated concerns of anybody looking to get to yes,” Liam Donovan, a veteran GOP political strategist, wrote on the social network X.
The Senate is scheduled to vote Monday on a motion invoking cloture – ending debate – on the permitting bill, per the Senate cloakroom. The motion will require at least 60 votes to pass. Senators are probably hoping for far more than 61 votes though, because as we’ve explained, House legislative rules may require overwhelming bipartisan support to get the measure to the president’s desk.
The “35x35” electrification pledge and an AI pledge are on the table.
World leaders are flocking to the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya, Turkey, this weekend for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP31. The U.S., of course, will once again not attend, as President Trump not only withdrew the country from the Paris Agreement but also from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the umbrella group that organizes the annual conferences. Still, 194 other governments will be there, putting their heads together on how to move another few inches toward a safer future.
This year, as with the last several convenings, the meeting arrives against a backdrop of geopolitical instability, worsening climate impacts, and growing concern about energy security and affordability. While conflicts like the Iran war in some ways bolster the case for the energy transition by surfacing the risks of fossil fuel dependence, prioritizing energy security can manifest as countries turning inward and showing less willingness to work for the global good.
Perhaps the biggest item on this year’s agenda is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035, up from about 23% today. That would mean switching from gas-powered cars to electric vehicles and from burning fuels for heat to electric heat pumps. It would not necessarily mean generating all of the electricity to power those devices from clean sources, although countries have committed to triple renewable energy capacity during previous COPs. Turkey itself does not have a plan to phase out fossil fuels, and its use of coal and natural gas-fired power plants has been growing alongside renewables.
It’s not yet clear whether Turkey will encourage countries to sign onto the pledge outside of the main negotiations or try to get it into the final decision text of the conference. In a twist, the conference has two countries sharing the presidency this year, with Turkey playing host and overseeing the “action agenda” — the announcements, commitments, and dealmaking that happen outside the official negotiations — and its co-chair, Australia, mediating the formal talks.
In addition to the electrification goal, Turkey is also inviting countries to sign an artificial intelligence pledge declaring a “shared ambition to make AI part of the climate solution — sustainably powered, efficiently designed, transparently measured and available to all.” The pledge has no teeth, however, as it explicitly states that it creates “no new obligations” and notes that it should be implemented according to national priorities and circumstances.
Although there will be no big agreement like there was in Paris in 2015, the two weeks of talks will end, per usual, with a consensus document that summarizes the outcomes of the negotiations. The final text from last year’s conference in Belém, Brazil, set a new goal to triple finance for climate adaptation by 2035. Countries also agreed to create a “Just Transition Mechanism,” a program to help fossil fuel-based economies navigate the socioeconomic consequences of shifting to clean energy. But the final text at COP30 did not ultimately mention the creation of a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels, despite more than 80 countries supporting the idea, and didn’t, in fact, mention “fossil fuels” at all.
Much of the work this year will be about building on those outcomes. The climate adaptation finance goal, for example, is still fuzzy, as the parties did not agree on a baseline year from which to triple the funding, or define what types of finance count toward the goal, meaning it’s unclear what the actual target amount for 2035 is. The Just Transition Mechanism is similarly skeletal — negotiators will need to hammer out how to operationalize it into something useful. Countries are also supposed to make progress on the Global Goal on Adaptation, an as-yet ill-defined goal first established in the Paris Agreement that negotiators are still working out how to implement.
Then there’s the overarching theme of finance. As I’ve written in the past, every annual climate conference is ultimately a fight over money — specifically how much developed countries are sending to developing countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects.
To date, countries have agreed to mobilize $1.3 trillion annually in climate finance from all sources for developing countries by 2035, with $300 specifically coming from developed countries. Climate finance reached record levels in 2024, the most recent year with comprehensive data, with total global flows hitting $2 trillion and funding from developed to developing countries reaching $136.7 billion.
But progress is uneven. Only 2% of global investment in renewable energy over the past two decades went to Africa, said Brian Mukhaya, a senior manager on the Clean Air Task Force’s Africa team, during a recent media briefing. Finance challenges may also collide with the conference’s electrification goal. More than 550 million people in sub-Saharan Africa lack access to electricity, Mukhaya said, and the continent will need seven to eight times current investment levels to achieve universal electricity access by 2030. Also, while the rising cost of capital is becoming an impediment to building clean energy projects everywhere in the world, the problem is acute in Africa, where the average cost of capital for power-sector investments is three to five times higher than in Europe and North America.
At COP31, negotiators will try to make progress on questions such as what form climate finance should take (grants, concessional loans, private finance, etc), how it can be more effectively distributed, and what it should be used for.
Another question hanging over this year’s conference is whether the final text will acknowledge the likelihood of surpassing 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, the more ambitious target laid out in the Paris Agreement. Last year’s decision text contained a tacit admission, with countries resolving to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.” Doing so requires a more serious discussion of carbon removal strategies than delegates have engaged in to date.
With the world seemingly careening past the 1.5 degrees target, the annual climate talks have lost some of their luster. Critics increasingly call for a new approach. Ani Dasgupta, the president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, for example, wants the COPs to center more on accountability and holding countries to their commitments. He also recommends developing a new decision-making process that does not allow a handful of countries to block decisions. Since the substance of the negotiations is becoming more and more about how to finance the transition, he argues the conference should also broaden its tent to bring in finance ministers and central banks.
“Where we are today is different from 1992 when COPs were set up,” he said during a recent press call. “The world is different. The broader needs are different. We are at a different place in the transition. And we actually haven't reformed the system.”
Progressive candidate Jane Kim declared victory in the race for California Insurance Commissioner.
Few political wonks outside of California were likely paying much attention to the Golden State on Tuesday night, as Democrats’ anticipated blue wave crested. But the state did have one close, consequential race on the ballot: insurance commissioner. On Friday, Bernie Sanders-endorsed progressive Jane Kim won the race to lead the California Department of Insurance, which oversees the state’s $452 billion insurance market.
Kim declared victory over the more moderate State Senator Ben Allen, who was backed by the California Democratic Party, after reaching a nearly six-point lead on Friday. In a brief speech before supporters, Kim said Allen called to congratulate her that morning. (A spokesman for the Allen campaign confirmed the call to The Orange County Register.) Kim ran on a proposal for a state-run, single-payer insurance program that would cover homeowners against wildfire damage — though the plan would ultimately need approval from both the California legislature and Governor-elect Xavier Becerra.
The idea is that homeowners would automatically receive public coverage for wildfire-related losses, with payouts capped at roughly what it costs to rebuild a typical California home. Policyholders would keep their regular private insurance for other risks such as theft, burst pipes, or an ordinary kitchen fire. Kim says Californians wouldn’t pay more overall, since the money for the program would come from the share of premiums that already goes toward wildfire coverage, though each household’s bill would partly depend on its own wildfire risk.
“It would be nonprofit, and so any excess capital would stay in the state of California and would be used to drive down risk,” Kim told my colleague Matthew Zeitlin a few weeks ago. “That’s the most important piece about this actually, is that it would create another revenue stream for mitigation.”
The insurance commissioner job has taken on an increasing sense of urgency as wildfires — intensified by climate change — continue ripping through communities in California. Mounting losses from hotter, drier conditions combined with decades of new construction in the wildland-urban interface have squeezed insurers’ profits, leading many to drop policyholders in high-risk areas or simply stop writing new policies in the state altogether.
California’s homeowners insurance premiums climbed 84% between December 2020 and March of this year, according to Stanford researchers. Meanwhile, a growing number of residents have been pushed onto the state’s FAIR Plan, which my colleague Matthew described as “the barebones insurer of last resort.” The share of California’s single-family homes covered by the plan has nearly tripled over that same period, from under 2% to about 5%, as homeowners in even low- and moderate-risk wildfire areas increasingly find themselves with few alternatives.
The insurance crunch has become yet another front in California’s broader affordability crisis, alongside persistently high housing, electricity, and gasoline costs. Kim’s victory suggests frustrated voters are increasingly willing to support more radical solutions that once seemed politically out of reach. And while Kim doesn’t have a background in the insurance industry, she’s no stranger to public office. The former civil rights attorney served on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2011 to 2019 before becoming a regional director for Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign.
But throughout her run for the Insurance office, critics have continually questioned how, exactly, her plan would work. No state has attempted a public disaster insurance program like this before; critics argue there’s no relevant model to work off of, no white paper laying out the details, and no price tag attached to the idea. Kim herself acknowledges that there’s plenty of uncertainty surrounding the plan. “This is a concept and a proposal, and could look quite different by the time it works its way through the process,” she told Matthew. In other words, the program that eventually emerges from negotiations with lawmakers — if one does — could end up looking considerably different from what Kim campaigned on.
Her opponent, Allen, who chairs the state senate’s Energy, Utilities and Communications Committee, argued that creating a public wildfire insurance program would impose a significant financial burden on the state. The California Earthquake Authority, an agency that sells earthquake insurance and administers the state’s Wildfire Fund, examined the potential costs of such a program this spring, estimating it would require roughly $25 billion upfront to have a 75% chance of staying solvent for 20 years. But Kim points out in her policy brief that buying reinsurance — essentially insurance for the insurer — could cut that to about $6 billion.
Allen, on the other hand, pitched a series of reforms to the existing market, including speeding up rate reviews, rewarding homeowners and communities for wildfire mitigation, expanding financing for home-hardening projects, and discouraging development in high-risk areas.
Voters opted instead for the insurance revolution. But Kim argues that her plan isn’t totally without precedent. On the campaign trail, she frequently pointed to New Zealand, where the government’s Natural Hazards Commission provides homeowners with public coverage for disasters including earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis — though notably not ordinary wildfires. And while France and Spain also operate state-backed disaster insurance programs, these don’t cover wildfires either, a far more common occurrence in California than the comparably rare disasters these programs were built around abroad.
Ultimately, Kim’s ambitious plan will require a champion in the legislature to go anywhere. But in the meantime, there are other issues she could get to work on. On the campaign trail, she said she wants to push insurers to fund a disaster mitigation program run by the Department of Insurance, require companies selling auto policies in a region to also offer homeowners coverage there, and impose minimum loss ratios compelling home insurers to pay at least 65% of premiums in claims and auto insurers at least 70%. It’s unclear, however, whether Kim can implement either of the latter two proposals without new legislation.
Kim will also immediately face the question of what to do with outgoing Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara’s Sustainable Insurance Strategy reform package. Designed to entice insurers back to California, these new rules allow companies to set premiums using forward-looking risk models rather than relying on historical losses, and to pass a portion of their rising reinsurance costs onto policyholders. In exchange, insurers are required to write more policies in wildfire-prone areas.
Kim has criticized this approach, arguing that insurers have exploited loopholes to raise premiums on lower-risk customers while continuing to underserve high-risk communities, all without doing enough to address the underlying factors driving wildfire risk.
That leaves Kim in a tricky situation. Until she is able to secure legislative backing for some version of her proposed public insurance program, she’ll have to decide whether to scrap or simply build on the existing reforms. She hasn’t yet laid out any plan for doing so. But whatever direction she takes could ultimately reshape California’s insurance market well before a new state insurer gets off the ground.