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A conversation with former congressman Bob Inglis.

Bob Inglis was snorkeling in Australia’s Great Barrier reef in 2008 when he had what he called “an epiphany.’’
The then-Republican congressman from a very conservative district in South Carolina had scoffed at climate change throughout his two terms in the House, but his certainty had begun to give way four years earlier when his son told him, upon turning 18, that he needed to “clean up his act on the environment.’’
The comment stung. Inglis was still thinking about it in 2008 during a congressional trip to Antarctica, where he saw researchers extract ice cores that showed steadily rising levels of carbon dioxide since the Industrial Age began. His belief that climate change was a hoax began to weaken.
It was on another fact-finding trip that Inglis toured the Great Barrier Reef. Alongside the Australian oceanographer Scott Heron, he saw that the once-colorful reef was being bleached and killed by warmer, more acidic waters. It was visible proof of the destructive power of climate change.
Heron, a fellow Christian, talked about the need to save the reef and the planet with such passion, Inglis said, that “I could see that he was worshipping God in what he was showing me. My metamorphosis was complete. I decided that I was ready to act.’’
The next year, Inglis co-sponsored legislation to impose a tax on carbon emissions. That “heresy’’ did not go over well in his district, and he was crushed in the 2010 primary, 71% to 29%. (The bill, meanwhile, never made it out of committee.) “I knew that I was making the right choice,’’ he said. “It’s a choice that I’d make again.’’
His newfound commitment to addressing climate change led him to launch a nonprofit group, RepublicEn, devoted to bringing conservatives into the climate conversation. Today, Inglis tours the country, doing about 100 events a year at conservative groups such as College Republicans, Rotary Clubs, hunting and fishing clubs, and local GOP organizations.
The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.
You’ve talked about how, as a Republican congressman, you refused to accept climate change because the issue was associated with Al Gore, a Democrat. Do you think that what political scientists call “negative partisanship’’ is a major reason why conservatives still resist action on climate change?
Yes, it is. That’s why we need credible messengers who can speak the language of the tribe and who can make the tribe believe that conservative ideas can add something to this conversation. Conservatives have an undeserved inferiority complex on climate and energy. We understand the concepts of negative externalities and market distortion and accountability. Free enterprise — accountable free enterprise — can fix climate change.
You are referring to the libertarian concept of negative externalities, actions that negatively affect other people. Can you explain how it relates to carbon emissions?
When you burn fossil fuels, you’re basically dumping trash into the sky. You don’t pay a tipping fee for putting carbon waste into the atmosphere and contributing to climate change, so there is an implicit subsidy for burning these fuels and belching carbon — in fact, it’s the granddaddy of all energy subsidies.
Take that subsidy away and everything changes. Virtually all coal would be quickly replaced with natural gas and wind and solar and other methods. If you use a tax to set the real price of carbon, the free market will figure out cheaper and better ways to produce electricity. Things will start happening faster. You’ll see more development of hydrogen and better batteries that don’t use lithium to store the energy created by solar and wind. Climate change is an economic problem. Just fix the economics and innovation will happen. That’s the language of conservatism, and it’s how I talk to conservatives about it.
Why do you believe a carbon tax is the best way to bring Republicans aboard?
It is still the most obvious way to solve climate change, and the most efficient. This is an idea that goes back to Milton Friedman in the 1980s, when he said, instead of trying to regulate polluters, tax pollution. Make them pay for their negative externalities. You tax the trash they dump into the sky, just the way we impose a cost for dumping trash on land. It has to be a substantial tax, and it has to be steadily rising to increase incentives to find other forms of energy that don’t turn the sky into a dump for emissions. If you do that, you don’t need tax incentives for solar and wind — the rising cost of fossil fuels will provide all the incentives they need. But you also need to make this tax apply to other nations and the goods they import into the U.S.
How do you do that?
You can put a tax on the carbon produced in goods imported from China. Sen. Bill Cassidy [R-Louisiana] recently proposed a foreign pollution tax like the carbon border adjustment mechanism the European Union has already adopted. We very much welcome this idea because it’s a way of making the transition away from fossil fuels worldwide. Many Republicans say it’s not fair if the U.S. lowers emissions while China can do what it wants. The beauty of a foreign pollution fee is that it addresses this problem in an efficient way. It creates economic incentives for China to reduce its own emissions.
A carbon tax has been talked about for a long time but has gone nowhere in Congress. Do you see any evidence that it’s more politically palatable today?
I think a carbon tax is like the rescue of the banks after the financial crisis in 2008. Until the banks collapsed, bailing out the U.S. financial system seemed impossible. But when the consequences of not doing it became clear, the bailout went from impossible to inevitable without passing through probable.
Several catalyzing events could propel the carbon tax forward. The most likely is the momentum created by the European border adjustment mechanism, which is really a carbon tariff. Companies in the U.S. who deal with Europe are going to be calling their members of Congress and Senators and saying, wouldn’t you really rather collect that revenue for carbon emissions here at home through a carbon tax rather than sending the money to Europe? At some point, the light will go on at the U.S. Capitol — wow, the Europeans are getting a lot of revenue with a tariff on carbon, and we could do that, too. We could do that to China. We could say, the stuff you are selling here, you have to pay a carbon tariff.
Another momentum-maker is our federal debt. If interest rates stay high, interest will really start eating more and more of the federal budget. I have always said that a carbon tax should be revenue neutral, but given what’s happening to the deficit, it could also provide that revenue. Necessity may force Congress to turn to what used to seem impossible.
Could extreme weather provide another incentive?
Yes, there could be some catalyzing climate event that really focuses the mind. I don’t know what it will be. During the civil rights movement, when Americans saw segregated cities turn the police dogs and fire hoses on protestors, it really turned the tide on Jim Crow. We’ve had so much extreme weather that people are getting desensitized to it, but there still might be a catastrophic event that changes people’s priorities.
This year, we’ve already seen some of the most extreme weather and weather-related disasters in recent human history — massive wildfires that darkened skies across the country, relentless heat waves, fierce storms, and destructive flooding. Do you see evidence that this is registering with conservatives?
A lot of people won’t change their minds because of what a scientist says. But experience is different. Experience is a harsh teacher. You can’t argue with the thermometer. You can’t argue with the yardstick showing that sea is rising. You can’t argue with the water coming into your home. In 2010, when I was getting tossed out of Congress, there was a lot of aggressive disbelief in climate change. People told me, I don’t believe in climate change, and you shouldn’t, either.
Right now, it’s quite different. Conservatives say to me, sure, you can switch to clean energy here, but what difference does it make if you don’t get the rest of the world in on this? Why should we do this alone? That’s when I talk about negative externalities and a carbon tax, and imposing a carbon tariff on China and other countries. That changes their perspective.
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What do you say to The Wall Street Journal conservatives who concede that climate change is occurring but insist that it’s less disruptive and cheaper to invest in adaptation to a hotter, more extreme climate?
Adaptation is a defeatist argument. Good luck building a seawall in Miami-Dade, for example. As sea levels rise, the water there is coming up into streets through the porous bedrock under that area. In South Carolina, go to coastal areas and you’ll see the big stands of pine trees dying because of salt water intrusion. In Montana, the forests are now filled with dead and dying trees because bark beetles that used to die in the winter now survive and go on attacking the trees year-round.
Adaptation won’t work in many places where people are going to lose what they love. It won’t work in New England when maple trees no longer produce maple sap for syrup because the winters are too warm. It won’t work at ski resorts that no longer have snow. When you stop arguing and pay attention to what you’re losing, you start saying, wow, how do we fix this?
Polls show there is still a big partisan divide on climate change. Do you think that can change?
The problem is no longer a lack of information. People can see what is happening. The problem is a lack of validation, and it’s a lack of hope. We need validation from conservative leaders that climate change is obviously real, and that we obviously need to do something about it. And we need to show conservatives that the free enterprise system can provide solutions once we get the true cost of carbon right.
If you keep telling people about all the terrible things happening and that we’re all hosed, it’s depressing. It makes people say, I don’t want to work with you. But if you can come to conservatives and say, we can light the world with new energy sources, and we can have more energy and more freedom and more manufacturing and more jobs — we can have a better world if we act on this. We can have true energy independence, so we don’t need to depend on energy from authoritarian regimes who chop journalists up into pieces. I’d like to be free of those people. I’d like to able to say to the Saudis, we don’t need your oil. Why don’t you see if you can drink that stuff?
The current Republican presidential field is not validating that climate change needs to be addressed.
In the first debate Nikki Haley did say climate change is real, but immediately pivoted to talking about how China and India have to lower their emissions, too. That’s a step forward, but it’s not enough. In 2018, when Republicans lost the House, it dawned on then-Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy and some other Republicans that you can’t win suburban swing districts with a retro position on climate change. So McCarthy convened a special Republican conference on climate, and the takeaway was, we need to get with it.
Polling data shows a majority of young conservatives and young evangelicals want action on climate change, and if you want to win in 2024, 2028, and 2032, you need to have a plan that you can talk about. But then Trump decided to run again, and he’s doubling down on climate disputation, and everyone in the party is afraid of the Death Angel. Trump can’t get anyone elected, but if he comes after you, he can get you killed in a primary.
But even if Trump wins, he will be a lame duck by 2026, and then the party is going to ask, where do we go next? My prediction at that point is that Republicans will be tired of reruns of the Trump show and will want a fresh approach that can win over young voters and suburban voters. And if he loses in 2024, that’s when you’ll have the reevaluation.
You’ve said of climate change, “We’re all in this together.’’ That sounds progressive — maybe even vaguely socialistic. Does that message resonate with conservatives who are suspicious of collective action?
[Laughs.] Maybe I should examine that statement more closely. But as a person of faith, I think it is just obvious we are literally in this fight together.
I think you can summon all Americans to a higher cause. I think if we can assure conservatives, I’m not trying to cancel you, and you have ideas to contribute to this discussion about the power of economic incentives, free enterprise, and innovation. You have to make conservatives feel that they have something important to contribute.
You have to make them feel they have something to gain from the solutions. If you the United States makes a bold move on carbon taxes and tells China and other nations, you have to pay a carbon tariff on the stuff you export to us, then it becomes an international effort to curtail emissions. Then conservatives start saying, we’re really talking about realistic and fair solutions. That’s when you can say, we need to take action because we do not want to lose this amazingly beautiful planet. That’s when you can say to them, we’re really all in this together.
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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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