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Trade is unprepared for the world’s waterways running dry.

Here’s an image that feels too heavy-handed to be true, like a film student’s blundering attempt at metaphor. In the height of last summer, Europe shimmering under 104 degree heat, a coal barge carried fuel down the arid Rhine river, but it was only a quarter full. That was the most it could haul without scraping the bottom of the barely-flowing trickle the river had become. The coal was headed for recently fired-up, old power stations.
If you’re able to think past the thickly suffocating heat-haze of late last summer you might remember there was a string of articles about fantastic things emerging from river beds. Amazing old statues and carved rocks, all of them dire warnings that “if you see me, then weep” because they indicated deadly levels of drought.
In China huge areas of Sichuan were shut down, factories forcibly closed to conserve power. The Yangtze ran dry, revealing its own ancient statues and calling a halt to cargo shipments. The Mississippi took until February 2023 to recover its water level from the 2022 summer drought.
This wasn't happening in any specific part of the world, unless you count “the northern hemisphere” as very specific. And it wasn’t just a hot summer or a dry spell. It was a vision of what’s likely to get even worse over the next 10 years. Economies, much less ecosystems, are unprepared for the world’s rivers drying up.
Let’s start with the science. What keeps freshwater rivers flowing are mostly mountain glaciers. They can basically be considered natural water towers, storing ice and snow in the winter that melt and feed rivers in the summer. As climate change makes winters milder and summers hotter, glacier shrinkage has been increasing, with repercussions for Earth’s waterways that are quickly felt by humans.
Rapid glacier melt first poses a higher risk of flooding, but then there’s the more extended threat of not enough water flowing down from the mountains. The Alps, Hindu Kush, Pamir, and Himalayas are particularly badly affected, according to the most extensive study that’s been done into the situation, put together by ETH Zurich and the University of Toulouse. The Himalayas are particularly worrying, per the research, because without glacier meltwater, it’s possible the entire region will run arid (at temperatures MIT researchers warn will be unlivable for humans in the near future). In the Alps, there’s a less immediate threat of reaching a heat level that will cook your organs, but the problem is still going to bludgeon Europe with its bluntly obvious warning that we should have done something sooner.
This is where Earth’s near-groan-worthy metaphors come back into play. In 2022, the Alpine-meltwater-fed Rhine reached water levels measured as low as 2.4 inches in parts of Germany. That’s not navigable by ships, even only laden at a quarter of their normal load, which meant that Germany’s recently fired-up coal power stations (responding to a lack of natural gas after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine) were starved of the fuel that would otherwise be shipped up the then-dehydrated river.
That might sound like a way for nature to strike back. We cook the planet, she takes our fuel for doing it away. But an unpredicted and pretty immediate consequence of our complacency in the face of climate change might not be the dramatic wildfires and extreme climate events as much as everything just slowly, sweatily stopping. For months on end.
River transport isn’t talked about all that much unless you’re particularly interested in logistics and you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s something out of industrial history. Coal barges don’t really fit with the image of modern Germany but that’s how fuel, including oil, gets moved around, massively more efficiently than by road. In Germany, the Rhine accounts for 86 percent of inland shipping and is a vital route for coal and oil, as long as they’re still used. (Except when the river is dry, of course.)Twelve million tonnes shipped along it in the first five months of 2022,
To put it into perspective, it’s not dissimilar to how the U.S. nearly hit disaster last year with a planned railway strike that would have completely throttled goods movement, from crops to cars, across the country. But while you can argue with industrial action (and god knows the railroads tried), there’s no negotiating with a dry riverbed.
But back to Europe. At the same time as Germany was puzzling out the movement of coal, France was throttling its electricity network, running on low power after its system of relatively clean nuclear power stations had to be partially shut down.
Squabbling over the same dry Rhine, plants didn’t have enough water to cool reactors running at full pelt. The plant in Fessenheim, France’s oldest, had to be shut down in August over fears the river water it used to cool itself would be so super-heated it would result in mass die-offs of fish when it had been cycled through the reactor. By September the energy shortage was so severe France simply changed the law to let that happen. Nature takes away our rivers? We’ll screw them even harder.
Over in China, 8.2 billion tons of goods are moved around each year by river. Even during the lockdown-struck 2020, the Yangtze moved 2.9 billion tons alone. But in 2022, authorities in Sichuan had to resort to using gigantic drones and rockets to seed clouds and force rainfall, in order to get the power back on to factories dependent on hydroelectric dams. The economic impacts of extended shutdown in China’s sixth biggest economic region forced the desperate move, but it’s not one that can be pulled off regularly or as a long-term solution to a problem that’s going to keep happening.
In the U.S., parts of the Mississippi hit record lows in the summer and fall of 2022 due to extreme drought. Barges got stuck in the mud, freight traffic got backed up for days along the vital waterway, and cargo prices spiked. The river that 92% of American agricultural exports travel down was responsible for a $64 billion cost to on trade. It took $20 billion just to close marinas up and down the river. A bill to try to protect waterways, amongst other natural infrastructure, has been passed around Congress but is yet to pass.
The world runs on energy, as a physical process as much as a phone battery percentage, and the situation with rivers is going to keep cutting the world off from it. And it’s happening quickly. Back in 2019 the IPCC released a report into the effects of climate change on the Earth’s water systems that reassured us that despite falling river levels there was, as yet, only "limited evidence" that hydropower production would be affected. You can scratch that one out and put in a dead certainty, just three years later. No one writing the report would have suspected that coal would be the other energy casualty of droughts with the world supposed to be transitioning rapidly away from dirty energy production.
Switching from trucking to river freight is an environmental priority, too. Due to CO2 emissions and the catastrophe that is tire particulate pollution, the waterways are a much better way to carry heavy loads. The EU’s green plan is to switch a "substantial amount" of the 75 percent of freight currently carried on roads to waterways by 2027, which is unfortunately going to be literally scuppered by boats being unable to navigate waterways. And the more we don’t switch, the worse we make the problem that's causing this dry-up in the first place.
There isn’t going to be a quick answer. The impacts of glacial retreat are, according to the latest (and last, until 2030) IPCC report, "approaching irreversibility" for some ecosystems and even clever drones and cloud seeding can't actually control the weather in the long term. Rivers have been systems of security since ancient civilizations but we might not be able to rely on them going forwards.
It’s been another warm winter, with not much to thaw for this summer. The dire warning the dry rivers are giving us is very much from this century, with record lows set to be seen again.
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Socialism has found a natural home in America’s cities, but perhaps not for the reason you think.
Socialists are rising in American cities.
It’s not just Mayor Zohran Mamdani in New York City — though he is the most popular and charismatic example. Janeese Lewis George, a member of the Democratic Socialists of America, just won the Democratic mayoral nomination in Washington, D.C. Nithya Raman, another DSA member, will take on the incumbent Karen Bass in Los Angeles’ mayoral race. And on Tuesday, Democratic primary voters across New York will vote on a handful of Mamdani-backed socialists running for Congress.
What’s driving the popularity of urban socialism? The answer matters for climate policy — and much else, of course. You could argue it’s all downstream of demographics: As liberals have flocked to cities, they have pushed the political climate to the left, and sometimes that can erupt into outliers; New York elects socialists, in this model, for the same reason Tennessee picks libertarians. Or you could claim it’s part of a broader and more global shift, of voters turning away from a seemingly dead center to political extremes.
None of these frameworks quite suffices. For one, as New York Times columnist David Wallace-Wells observed recently, New York was trending to the GOP before it elected Mamdani. (It had the biggest Republican swing of any state in the 2024 election.) The trend, too, is a national one. Instead, he argues, “it is in cities that voters most routinely encounter, and thereby come to value, public goods.”
But I want to offer another explanation for why the current version of socialism has found such fertile ground in urban politics. Perhaps it’s my curse to understand all politics through the lens of climate and energy. But I think it’s relevant here: While recent elections have not been about climate per se, many of the socialists now in power initially came to their politics because of the urgency of decarbonization. Mamdani himself once identified as an “ecosocialist,” and Raman was first elected promising to get L.A. to carbon neutrality by 2030.
The story begins in November 2018. After securing her unlikely primary victory against an incumbent Democrat, Representative-elect Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez cemented her national profile by joining an activist group called the Sunrise Movement for a sit-in in Nancy Pelosi’s office and demanding something called a Green New Deal.
What a Green New Deal might entail, exactly, nobody seemed to know. Even the Green New Deal’s supporters called for little more than a select committee to develop a “detailed national, industrial, economic mobilization plan” to phase the country off fossil fuels. But a think tank called New Consensus, led and funded in part by Ocasio-Cortez’s then-chief of staff Saikat Chakrabati, declared that it would flesh out the proposal.
Soon a vision congealed. The idea had long referred to the journalist Thomas Friedman’s broad, patriotic, and vague plan to “to revitalize America.” New Consensus’ website made it clear that the new vision, too, aimed for national rejuvenation: A Green New Deal would be a galvanizing industrial strategy that would decarbonize the economy, put young people back to work, and ensure American greatness for another century. It was all about “industrial policy, industrial policy, industrial policy,” one of the group’s researchers told me.
That moment soon collapsed. Political ineptitude was partly to blame. In early 2019, Ocasio-Cortez published a document that jocularly implied the Green New Deal aimed to eliminate “cow farts and airplanes,” cratering its popularity. But the proposal’s demise was also because the plan’s inherent left-wing patriotism was not palatable to the movement itself. National rejuvenation, it turned out, was not an acceptable goal to the left’s anti-imperial flank, which on its own had the power to destroy any Green New Deal coalition.
And so over time, the left’s climate vision — and the “Green New Deal” that groups like Sunrise clamored for — became anti-imperial. Instead of revitalizing the country’s industrial might, it sought to pacify and dismantle the military industrial complex. Instead of putting young men to work building batteries and electric vehicles, it aimed to create a new socialized economy centered around “care work” — care for children, care for the elderly, care for the natural world.
This transition was partly rooted in objective economic analysis — manufacturing really is becoming less labor-intensive, while healthcare and child care are gobbling up Americans’ incomes — but partly in a more ideological revulsion at the idea of American power itself. If you see the United States not as a flawed, fraught, but fixable actor in global politics, but as a failing empire upholding a disastrous and criminal global order, then any policy that strengthens the country’s economic base is impermissible and evil.
Why do I bring all of this up now? Because it creates political problems the movement has never figured out how to resolve at the national level. Take Darializa Avila Chevalier, for instance, a Mamdani-backed DSA candidate running in New York’s 13th congressional district. Chevalier seems to oppose the modern system of states in any recognizable sense. In a (since deleted) 2019 post, she tweeted that a “world without borders” is “necessary” and “the only moral way forward.” Even in a recent interview, she was so uncomfortable with the state’s power of coercion and incarceration that she declined to affirm murderers should go to jail. Yet she still wants what only a state can provide; her big issues are universal health care and a $15 minimum wage.
Many new leftists find themselves in her position: They want the fruits of a strong state while remaining fundamentally suspicious of states themselves. That can make them skittish and unreliable partners in any national progressive coalition — many young leftists simply don’t trust that even extremely progressive policy will redound to their benefit. (This centripetal force is part of what tore apart the Biden coalition, even before October 7.)
Cities, however, don’t have this problem. They are powerful governments that are not sovereign states. They lack a military, a currency, a central bank, and a foreign policy. From the anti-imperialist’s perspective, there is little risk in making city governments stronger. In this way, so many of the tensions inherent in the Green New Deal and other late 2010s progressive politics are much better suited to cities. Urban politics is a much more natural home for the 2010s left, and its contradictions, than the federal government.
After all, many ecosocialists never quite knew how to feel about patriotism or what the United States should be. (Many might profess doubts about whether the United States should exist at all.) But they know what they want Brooklyn, or Los Angeles, or Oakland to be, and their vision — of a high-tax polity with abundant public leisure, mass transit, and zero-carbon electricity — is much closer to reality in cities, anyway.
It helps, too, that in an era where negative news predominates, cities are small enough for people to feel some pride in them. Nobody experiences “the United States” as anything other than a quasi-mediated phenomenon. Our vast, beautiful, and complicated country of 345 million people is simply too big to keep in our heads.
But New Yorkers experience New York City every day — we shop, work, ride the subway, walk in the park, go to parades, and meet strangers often enough to identify with the reality of this 8 million person city. As a longtime veteran of New York City politics pointed out to me in private after Mamdani’s win, Mamdani ran an extremely patriotic campaign. It had a confidence in the virtue of the New York City experiment that socialists would never extend to the American experiment. You could even argue that the flush of adoration for the patrie that the French felt in the 1780s, as they read a newly liberated press, might not be so different from what New Yorkers feel when they watch an Instagram reel celebrating Knicks in five.
In any case, socialists soon might have to confront these contradictions: As mayor, Mamdani has adopted an essentially status quo approach to the NYPD; if his chosen candidates win in congressional primaries on Tuesday, then they will discover their own willingness to compromise. But even that will be, in a sense, a luxury. Chakrabati, after leaving Ocasio-Cortez’s camp, ran his own campaign for Pelosi’s old San Francisco seat this year. He came in third place with 18% of the vote.
Director Josh Fox on his latest film, The Welcome Table, plus Shakespearean comedy and the New York Knicks.
After images of oil-slicked waterfowl and marching protesters, there is perhaps no visual more representative of the fossil fuel crisis than the flaming faucet in Josh Fox’s 2010 documentary GasLand. The film, which investigated how the fracking boom pollutes local communities, memorably included a scene of a man lighting his kitchen tap water on fire as methane spewed out through the contaminated water line. As one reporter wrote several years after its initial release, GasLand was the film that made “fracking” a household word in the United States.
Over 16 years and about a quarter of a million more American oil and gas wells later, the climate crisis caused by human use of fossil fuels has grown ever more acute. The emissions from burning those hydrocarbons have made the weather more extreme and unpredictable, of course, but they’re also reshaping the human landscape. In 2021, a team of international scientists published a report warning that a third of the world’s population, some 3.5 billion people, may be forced to leave their homes over the next 50 years due to the increasingly hot and unstable climate.
Even as it’s become more critical to make room for these new climate refugees, anti-immigrant politics have gone mainstream around the world. Studies have shown that both Republicans and Democrats become more xenophobic after learning about climate migration, while the annual refugee admission cap is now just 7,500 in the U.S., down 85% from its peak of 50,000 during the first Trump administration.
This week, Fox returns with a new documentary, The Welcome Table. In the film, which will be released on HBO, he travels around the globe, visiting communities in decline — places where the physical catastrophes and political climates have converged to make it impossible to continue living. But as he and I discussed in our conversation below, this story is not a tragedy; rather, Fox aims to answer how we can set the table and embrace neighbors who’ve lost their homes. And here’s the good news: It involves a lot of fun.
Our conversation has been lightly edited and condensed.
Reportage on climate migration almost always focuses on the people who are migrating. What struck me about your documentary was its emphasis on the other subject in this relationship — the people and communities who either receive or exclude the refugees. Can you tell me how you arrived at that starting point?
Well, I’ll tell you a funny story. I first started working on this in 2019 because I was so outraged at the policy of child separation. I went down to El Paso — which you see in part of the movie — to investigate issues of the border. I originally thought of the movie as The Border Table, where we were going to put a table on the border for people to come to from both sides, and we were looking for a section of the border that didn’t have a wall.
I quickly realized that the issues around the border were not my wheelhouse — it is its own subject — and I wanted to focus more broadly on the climate. I was doing an event for Bernie Sanders’ 2020 campaign where I was called to go to Columbia, South Carolina, with Nina Turner, Dr. Cornel West, and Bernie to talk about water issues. My flight came in, then Dr. West’s, and it was like 10 at night. We got in a rental car with Heather Gautney, who’s also an amazing activist. There was no place to eat — everything was closed — so we’re sitting in the back of a rental car, myself and Dr. West, and eating McDonald’s, and he’s like, “What are you working on?” And I said, “Well, we’re working on this film called The Border Table.” He goes, “Oh, well, you know, James Baldwin’s last book was called The Welcome Table, but nobody’s ever read it. He never finished it.” And I thought: The Welcome Table, The Welcome Table… That’s interesting, it’s a better title.
Then I was down in New Orleans, and I went to one of my favorite clubs and saw John Boutté. John and I immediately hit it off. He knew my work. He signed one of his records, and lo and behold, I look on the record, and there’s the song: “The Welcome Table.” Immediately I thought, Well, this movie has to start with John Boutté. From the moment I met him, I felt that there was this weird destiny that was happening.
I said, “John, I want you to sing this song to an empty table on the top of the levee, and at the end of the movie, you’re going to sing the song with 1,000 people at a 1,000-foot-long table, and we’re going to show the Welcome Table as this symbol of togetherness and generosity.” Because my question was, What’s the opposite of a wall? What’s stronger than this xenophobia, this racism, this hate, this militarization? Is there anything stronger than that fascist ideology? And I realized that a wall on its side can be a table. The wall is just a metaphor.
So The Welcome Table is essentially a movie about a song. It’s a movie about imagining a future where we can sing and not get tired, where we’re in a beautiful city and have a place at the table.
In a 2023 interview, you described The Welcome Table as a Shakespearian comedy. I’m curious if you still feel that way and can explain it?
All climate movies are tragedies. They’re about the tragic flaw of this civilization, how we’re all doing ourselves in. A comedy is where everybody gets married at the end. That’s what happens at the end of As You Like It, Twelfth Night, The Two Gentlemen of Verona. At the end of Hamlet, there’s just bodies all over the floor.
To me, that table with 1,000 New Orleanians celebrating, waving handkerchiefs, second lining, having the band — it is a sort of marriage, right? I mean, at every wedding in New Orleans, you have one of those bands. To me, it’s a marriage of true minds; it’s a marriage of our communities; and it’s a question of finding our solidarity and our togetherness. The idea is that we have to be bound to each other.
It’s also a hell of a lot more fun.
You note that climate migration would be the greatest mass migration in human history, with a third of the world projected to move in the next 50 years. But the Welcome Table is already pretty crowded at the end of the movie. How do you navigate that tension in climate storytelling — saying both “this is urgent and happening now” but also “it will also get worse”?
My last film on HBO was How to Let Go of the World and Love All the Things Climate Can’t Change [in 2016], in which we trace the path to 2 degrees Celsius and how dangerously close we were at that time. Now things have gotten worse. We include a climate science update midway through The Welcome Table, which is very dire.
But I think this is probably one of the first movies to deal with climate change as it’s happening now. It’s not saying, in the future this will happen, like An Inconvenient Truth. No, this is a fire right now. We’ve never had conditions that are this hot or this dry. This is a giant mega-storm, back-to-back Category 5s flattening the Virgin Islands. This is a famine that’s been going on for seven years because it hasn’t rained in northern Kenya. This is landslides where you have a whole year’s worth of rain drop in 12 hours and the mud buries whole neighborhoods alive.
This is climate change happening to us right now. It’s not predicting a dire future; it’s showing the one that we predicted 10 years ago.
A recurring pattern in the film is that climate migration doesn’t necessarily mean leaving one’s country, but could mean moving a town or neighborhood or two over. Can you talk a little more about how this was still a traumatic upheaval for your subjects, and why you include those stories alongside the more traditional images of refugees on boats or at the southern border?
If you think about New Orleans after Katrina, they lost half their population to elsewhere. And there is no place like New Orleans anywhere on earth. So you are losing something really fundamental to who you are. And, you know, it’s not as if when Paradise, California, burns down, they’re like, “You can set up your place in Chico! We have tons of empty houses and buildings and money and love for you!” No, it’s: Go [expletive] live in your car. So the idea that you’re a climate refugee doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve had to cross borders. It just means you’ve lost everything.
I wanted to make the point that the Convention on Refugees defines refugees as people who are oppressed because of politics or because of identity or economic hardship or political violence, but it doesn’t include climate change. And it really should. Climate change should be a reason you can declare asylum, because climate change also makes all of those problems way worse.
I was extremely moved by the fact that many of the people extending their hands to refugees in this movie have faced their own forms of rejection and exile, like the members of the queer mutual aid network that comes together organically in Brazil. But how do we get through to the people who are comfortable in their lives? Yes, there are many empathetic, good people, but I also worry there are many scared, small-minded people, too.
I don’t know how to answer that question in general, but I do know from experience that when we were working on fracking issues, it was the moms who were terrified that their children were going to be poisoned by the chemicals in the water and in the air. Those moms were the backbone of our organizing and our audience, and they were fierce in defending their children’s futures. I think what has to be gotten across is that same generational obligation.
One of the things that we cut out of the film, for time, that I’m sad about is: In Paradise, California, and in Boulder, Colorado, where we covered those fires, the rent goes up 300% after the fire. So your $800 apartment is now a $2,400 apartment. But also, nobody should move to those places. They’re going to be contaminated for decades. Everything you have in your house is basically toxic because of the oil industry, and it becomes 10 times more so if you light it on fire, then pour fire retardant sprays on top of it, which are also carcinogens. Then it rains, and all that’s in the water table. There will be cancer clusters in those fire neighborhoods if people move back into them. It’s so serious that I won’t go to one of those places for more than a couple of hours, and I’m wearing a respirator mask.
And we’re not being upfront about that. Get parents involved and understanding that the legacy of their children means that they have to stop using fossil fuels, and we have to dismantle this system of fascism to do it. They are interrelated. Oil is the blood of climate change, but it’s also the blood of this extractive capitalist system.
Do you have any final thoughts you want to leave with our readers?
I would like to see this 1,000-foot-long Welcome Table brought to cities across America and around the world. It’s not just a scene for the movie; it’s a template for our activism. We’ve got to get really good at welcoming people, because either we’re going to be on the move ourselves because we’ve lost our homes due to climate, or we’ll be welcoming those who’ve lost their homes. One way to do this is to practice singing together, hanging out together, and having a good time.
If there’s anything this week in New York City, and my beloved New York Knicks, have gone to show, it’s that collective joy is possible. We don’t need to win a basketball game to have that, though, and that’s what The Welcome Table shows: Collective joy for the sake of collective joy. Coming together to celebrate migration, to celebrate the crisis, to celebrate how, as human beings, we have this ability to sing, dance, and move — boy, that’s a fun time. Our side is more fun. A wall on its side can be a table, and it’s time to envision a different future.
On Michael Bloomberg’s big climate gift, SMRs in Ohio, and the consequences of a “Super El Niño”
Current conditions: Temperatures in the United Kingdom should break 100 degrees Fahrenheit this week • Heavy rain and thunderstorms are forecast to hit the East Coast later today, potentially affecting World Cup matches in Philadelphia and New Jersey • Thousands were left without power after storms in Oklahoma.
In the early hours of Monday morning in Switzerland, mediators from Pakistan and Qatar announced that talks between the United States and Iran had ended after making “encouraging progress.” Now, a “High Level Committee” will attempt to iron out the specifics of a deal over the next 60 days, covering tense issues such as nuclear enrichment, sanctions, and Israeli military actions in southern Lebanon. The statement also said that a “communication line” had been set up “to avoid incidents and miscommunication with the aim of safe passage for commercial vessels through the Strait of Hormuz.”
The agreement followed several days of confusion over the state of the waterway. While Iran declared the strait closed over the weekend in protest over Israeli actions in Lebanon, a U.S. military spokesman told The New York Times, “Iran does not control the Strait of Hormuz. Traffic continues to flow, and U.S. forces are monitoring the situation to ensure this remains the case.” Meanwhile, Iranian officials have said their own exports are receiving waivers from sanctions, and that a U.S. blockade is no longer in effect. “Oil and petrochem exports are waived, blockade lifted, some frozen assets released, and major reconstruction & development plan launched for Iran,” Iran’s foreign minister Seyed Abbas Araghchi posted on X Sunday evening.
Initial results in Colombia’s presidential election showed Abelardo de la Espriella, the right-wing candidate allied with Donald Trump, winning office against his leftist opponent, Ivan Cepeda, an ally of outgoing President Gustavo Petro. While the campaign largely revolved around issues related to drugs and crime, de la Espriella has also pledged to support the country’s fossil fuel industry, including support for fracking and expanding overall oil and gas production. Petro, by contrast, “sought to wean the Andean nation off fossil fuels by halting new drilling licenses and seeking to ban fracking,” Bloomberg reported. Petro’s environmentalist bent chilled outside investment in the oil and gas sector, which is still Colombia’s No. 1 exporting industry.
China’s Commerce Ministry targeted two favored U.S. rare earth companies with export controls on Monday, Bloomberg reported, adding American mineral producers MP Materials and USA Rare Earth to its export control list. The two companies were among 10 added to the list, Chinese state news agency Xinhua reported. “Organizations and individuals from any country or region are prohibited from transferring or providing dual-use items originating in China to the above-mentioned entities. Relevant ongoing export activities shall be immediately halted, according to the statement,” Xinhua said. Earlier this month, the Pentagon added several Chinese companies to its own list of companies known to support the Chinese military. These included tech giants Baidu and Alibaba, as well as the electric vehicle company BYD. This designation comes with restrictions on the companies’ commercial relationships with the Department of Defense.

The two companies have been the recipient of billions of investment and largesse from the federal government as the U.S. seeks to build up a rare earths mining and processing industry that’s no longer reliant on China, which dominates the sector. MP Materials has received a combination of direct investment, financing, and purchase commitments for its neodymium-praseodymium production and output. While the Trump administration has shown little interest in catalyzing the wind and electric vehicle sectors (both of which use neodymium-praseodymium oxide in their electric motors), the defense industry is a major customer of MP Materials’ rare earths products. USA Rare Earth has received over $1 billion in federal investment.
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It’s not just the risk of a West Coast hurricane — the return of the El Niño weather system could portend a “mini-Dust bowl” in the Midwest. AccuWeather forecasters warned over the weekend that there’s a 70% chance already-present El Niño conditions in the Pacific Ocean could develop into what’s known as a “Super El Niño,” characterized by ocean surface temperatures 2 degrees Celsius hotter than average. Though El Niño is notorious for sending extreme rain into the southern U.S., it can also cause drier conditions further north. Combined with the extremity of this year’s projected temperature anomaly, that could lead to a multi-year drought in the Midwest. “The stronger the upcoming El Niño conditions get, the longer it takes for weather patterns to return to their historical average,” AccuWeather senior meteorologist Paul Pastelok explained. Already several Plains and Mountain West states are in “extreme drought,” and the El Niño could set the table for even more dry weather to come.
Michael Bloomberg, founder of financial news service Bloomberg LP and a prolific climate philanthropist, announced a $285 million commitment on Sunday “to help clean energy scale fast enough to power the world’s energy systems,” according to a press release from his charitable organization, Bloomberg Philanthropy. The gift is aimed at accelerating wind and solar deployment both in developed and emerging markets, with the goal that the two technologies should “generate more than half” of electricity in countries responsible for 70% of global emissions. The money will support trade groups for the wind and solar industry, data collection and analysis efforts to demonstrate wind and solar’s capabilities and costs, technical assistance to set up electricity markets in a way that encourages wind and solar deployment, and working with investors and financial institutions to “help unlock private capital for clean energy infrastructure.”
The substantial gift toward two mature technologies stands in contrast to other climate and philanthropic investment approaches (like, say, Bill Gates’) that focus on “breakthrough” technologies that are not currently widely deployed, or may not even exist at all. Bloomberg’s gift comes after Gates closed his main climate giving vehicle’s advocacy and policy shops early last year, and later issued a memo outlining a “strategic pivot” to focus more on global public health and extreme poverty.
Developer Elementl says it will build a new 1.5-gigawatt nuclear plant 100 miles outside Columbus, Ohio. The twist: It’ll be powered by small modular reactors. The proposed plant would features several BWRX-300 SMRs made by GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy, a design that has also been favored by Ontario Power Generation at its first-on-the-continent SMR facility. Elementl said in a press release Friday that it expects to hear back from PJM Interconnection later this year about interconnection, which would set up the facility to be in service by 2034.
Editor’s note: This article has been updated to correct the location of a potential “mini-Dust Bowl.”