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People without air conditioning fare better during blackouts. Here’s why.

I am, in the summer, the human equivalent of a slightly overcooked noodle.
This is especially true in a coastal city like Washington, D.C., where I live. The heat and humidity seep into my bones and I attain a semi-liquid state in which, despite my enthusiasm for hiking and kayaking and swimming and all those other good summer activities, I find myself craving exactly one thing every time I go outside: Air conditioning.
Air conditioners, for better or worse, have become our default solution for extreme heat. When concrete and steel construction replaced regional architecture around the world, air conditioners — where people could afford them — awkwardly, imperfectly filled the spaces left behind by missing local design and materials that would have otherwise helped cope with the weather. And as the world gets hotter, ACs are growing more and more popular: In India, where I mostly grew up without an AC, sales of ACs have skyrocketed over the past decade from three million units in 2013 to an expected 9.7 million this year.
But there is, of course, a catch. As vernacular architecture disappears, so too does vernacular knowledge; many of us, bowing to our cooling-machine gods, have forgotten how to deal with the heat.
Air conditioning has an odd side effect: It makes us dependent. In a 2021 study from Georgia Tech’s Urban Climate Lab, which modeled indoor heat across Atlanta, Phoenix, and Detroit during heat waves, researchers found that people without air conditioning would fare better during a blackout because they’d be more likely to take other measures to help deal with the heat. These are simple moves, like drinking more water and using curtains to keep their rooms dark and cool, whereas people with air conditioning might put too much faith in their appliances — and be entirely unprepared for those appliances to stop working.
“I think a combined blackout and heat wave is the most deadly climate risk we’re confronting right now,” said Brian Stone Jr., director of the Urban Climate Lab and a Professor in the School of City and Regional Planning at Georgia Tech. “A blackout situation really kind of inverts the traditional risk pyramid. If you don’t have air conditioning in your house, you probably have greater heat resilience. Those of us who have air conditioning whenever we want it are going to be more susceptible.”
Heat waves put extreme stress on power grids, and blackouts are increasingly common as summers get hotter. If more people buy more air conditioners without any work being done to shore up the grid (and, believe me, the grid badly needs shoring up), that extra stress could lead to quicker, more common grid failures. It’s unfortunately easy to imagine just how dangerous a grid failure can be: A major blackout during a heat wave would be the inverse of the Texas blackout during the winter of 2021, when hundreds of Texans died of hypothermia in their own homes.
For someone in a house without an air conditioner, a blackout during a heat wave probably wouldn’t affect the temperature inside much; someone who does have one, however, will inevitably find their house heating up beyond a point they were prepared for. As Rebecca Leber pointed out in Vox, early-season heat waves are dangerous because our bodies aren’t prepared for the heat. The sudden loss of air conditioning for someone used to it is dangerous for the same reason.
Our built environment, like a natural ecosystem, is the sum total of many pieces fitting together, and not all of them fit perfectly. Air conditioners are the perfect example: They aren’t universally good at cooling our buildings down, especially if those buildings weren’t built with air conditioning in mind — they often lack proper insulation, for example, which means cooled air will escape a room quickly. That means air conditioners will have to work harder to cool the air, which both further heats up the air outside and places more stress on the grid. When the built ecosystem fails, its human inhabitants inevitably suffer.
Last week, I wrote about a study out of Portland, Oregon, that measured how hot the units in three public-housing developments got during the summer of 2022. To the surprise of the researchers conducting that study, the units with air conditioners were not much cooler than those that didn’t have them. There were a few reasons for this: first, running an air conditioner is expensive, and residents with air conditioners would often turn the temperature up to save on electricity costs. Second, the buildings weren’t designed for air conditioning, so the apartments couldn’t retain cooled air very well.
Third, and most importantly, the residents who didn’t have air conditioners were both more cognizant of heat dangers and more likely to take other steps to cool their spaces down; they retained, in other words, a sort of vernacular knowledge of how to deal with the heat.
“The residents who don’t have air conditioners go to great lengths to keep their homes cool,” said Dana Hellman, a program manager at CAPA Strategies, the climate consultancy that ran the Portland study for the city. “For example, they made DIY insulation for their windows or kept all their lights off or their curtains closed all day long. It’s burdensome, but it might be leveling the field a little bit.”
Which isn’t to say that air conditioners should be abandoned wholesale. If indoor temperatures rise too much, everyone is at risk of heat stroke. Many cities, including Portland, operate cooling centers for residents to go to during extreme heat events. But none of those cities mandate that those centers have some sort of backup power option, and even if they did there aren’t nearly enough centers to serve every resident.
As with climate change more broadly, there are obvious equity issues here: The people who are most likely to use cooling centers are the people who are most likely vulnerable in other ways, as well. More well-off residents can afford to pay for an air conditioner, its associated costs, and possibly also a backup generator to help them ride out a heat wave in the comfort of their own homes; many cooling centers are understaffed and under-resourced, which raises safety concerns for residents who then have to choose whether to stay home or potentially put themselves at risk for the sake of finding relief from the heat.
So what should we do as the world continues to heat up?
We can start with the long, hard task of adapting the grid to keep us safe during heat waves, a fix that Stone points out is decades overdue. “Back in the 90s, the idea was that we’d be successful in reducing global emissions and wouldn’t need to adapt [to global warming],” Stone said. “If we had acknowledged to ourselves that it was going to be a 20 to 50 year project just to start adapting, we might have been more attuned to the fact that the electrical grid is a life support system for us when it is too hot outside to be healthy. But that’s been a slow realization.”
In Portland, the housing authority has a program to provide public housing residents with free air conditioners. But there are other forms of adaptation, too: Stone and his colleagues found that cool roofs, which reflect more sunlight than traditional roofs, can lower ambient temperatures by 1 to 1.5 degrees Celsius. Urban tree cover, which throws potentially life-saving shade onto houses and roads alike, can also go a long way towards cooling things down.
Most important, however, is actually going to be changing the way we interact with heat. Education — getting people to take heat waves as seriously as, say, a hurricane or wildfire — is just as important as modifying our built environment. Perhaps we'll all, as Morgan Meaker wrote in Wired last year, take a leaf out of the Spanish playbook and adopt the siesta (an idea that I personally endorse), or learn to live in the dark caves of our curtain-darkened apartments in the peak of summer.
I may even start turning up my AC to let my body acclimatize to its natural state of noodle. Whatever the solution, heat must re-enter our vernacular: not just as something we mechanically force out of our homes, but as something we figure out how to live with.
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There has been no new nuclear construction in the U.S. since Vogtle, but the workers are still plenty busy.
The Trump administration wants to have 10 new large nuclear reactors under construction by 2030 — an ambitious goal under any circumstances. It looks downright zany, though, when you consider that the workforce that should be driving steel into the ground, pouring concrete, and laying down wires for nuclear plants is instead building and linking up data centers.
This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Thousands of people, from construction laborers to pipefitters to electricians, worked on the two new reactors at the Plant Vogtle in Georgia, which were intended to be the start of a sequence of projects, erecting new Westinghouse AP1000 reactors across Georgia and South Carolina. Instead, years of delays and cost overruns resulted in two long-delayed reactors 35 miles southeast of Augusta, Georgia — and nothing else.
“We had challenges as we were building a new supply chain for a new technology and then workforce,” John Williams, an executive at Southern Nuclear Operating Company, which owns over 45% of Plant Vogtle, said in a webinar hosted by the environmental group Resources for the Future in October.
“It had been 30 years since we had built a new nuclear plant from scratch in the United States. Our workforce didn’t have that muscle memory that they have in other parts of the world, where they have been building on a more regular frequency.”
That workforce “hasn’t been building nuclear plants” since heavy construction stopped at Vogtle in 2023, he noted — but they have been busy “building data centers and car manufacturing in Georgia.”
Williams said that it would take another “six to 10” AP1000 projects for costs to come down far enough to make nuclear construction routine. “If we were currently building the next AP1000s, we would be farther down that road,” he said. “But we’ve stopped again.”
J.R. Richardson, business manager and financial secretary of the International Brotherhood of Electric Workers Local 1579, based in Augusta, Georgia, told me his union “had 2,000 electricians on that job,” referring to Vogtle. “So now we have a skill set with electricians that did that project. If you wait 20 or 30 years, that skill set is not going to be there anymore.”
Richardson pointed to the potential revitalization of the failed V.C. Summer nuclear project in South Carolina, saying that his union had already been reached out to about it starting up again. Until then, he said, he had 350 electricians working on a Meta data center project between Augusta and Atlanta.
“They’re all basically the same,” he told me of the data center projects. “They’re like cookie cutter homes, but it’s on a bigger scale.”
To be clear, though the segue from nuclear construction to data center construction may hold back the nuclear industry, it has been great for workers, especially unionized electrical and construction workers.
“If an IBEW electrician says they're going hungry, something’s wrong with them,” Richardson said.
Meta’s Northwest Louisiana data center project will require 700 or 800 electricians sitewide, Richardson told me. He estimated that of the IBEW’s 875,000 members, about a tenth were working on data centers, and about 30% of his local were on a single data center job.
When I asked him whether that workforce could be reassembled for future nuclear plants, he said that the “majority” of the workforce likes working on nuclear projects, even if they’re currently doing data center work. “A lot of IBEW electricians look at the longevity of the job,” Richardson told me — and nuclear plants famously take a long, long time to build.
America isn’t building any new nuclear power plants right now (though it will soon if Rick Perry gets his way), but the question of how to balance a workforce between energy construction and data center projects is a pressing one across the country.
It’s not just nuclear developers that have to think about data centers when it comes to recruiting workers — it’s renewables developers, as well.
“We don’t see people leaving the workforce,” said Adam Sokolski, director of regulatory and economic affairs at EDF Renewables North America. “We do see some competition.”
He pointed specifically to Ohio, where he said, “You have a strong concentration of solar happening at the same time as a strong concentration of data center work and manufacturing expansion. There’s something in the water there.”
Sokolski told me that for EDF’s renewable projects, in order to secure workers, he and the company have to “communicate real early where we know we’re going to do a project and start talking to labor in those areas. We’re trying to give them a market signal as a way to say, We’re going to be here in two years.”
Solar and data center projects have lots of overlapping personnel needs, Sokolski said. There are operating engineers “working excavators and bulldozers and graders” or pounding posts into place. And then, of course, there are electricians, who Sokolski said were “a big, big piece of the puzzle — everything from picking up the solar panel off from the pallet to installing it on the racking system, wiring it together to the substations, the inverters to the communication systems, ultimately up to the high voltage step-up transformers and onto the grid.”
On the other hand, explained Kevin Pranis, marketing manager of the Great Lakes regional organizing committee of the Laborers’ International Union of North America, a data center is like a “fancy, very nice warehouse.” This means that when a data center project starts up, “you basically have pretty much all building trades” working on it. “You’ve got site and civil work, and you’re doing a big concrete foundation, and then you’re erecting iron and putting a building around it.”
Data centers also have more mechanical systems than the average building, “so you have more electricians and more plumbers and pipefitters” on site, as well.
Individual projects may face competition for workers, but Pranis framed the larger issue differently: Renewable energy projects are often built to support data centers. “If we get a data center, that means we probably also get a wind or solar project, and batteries,” he said.
While the data center boom is putting upward pressure on labor demand, Pranis told me that in some parts of the country, like the Upper Midwest, it’s helping to compensate for a slump in commercial real estate, which is one of the bread and butter industries for his construction union.
Data centers, Pranis said, aren’t the best projects for his members to work on. They really like doing manufacturing work. But, he added, it’s “a nice large load and it’s a nice big building, and there’s some number of good jobs.”
A conversation with Dustin Mulvaney of San Jose State University
This week’s conversation is a follow up with Dustin Mulvaney, a professor of environmental studies at San Jose State University. As you may recall we spoke with Mulvaney in the immediate aftermath of the Moss Landing battery fire disaster, which occurred near his university’s campus. Mulvaney told us the blaze created a true-blue PR crisis for the energy storage industry in California and predicted it would cause a wave of local moratoria on development. Eight months after our conversation, it’s clear as day how right he was. So I wanted to check back in with him to see how the state’s development landscape looks now and what the future may hold with the Moss Landing dust settled.
Help my readers get a state of play – where are we now in terms of the post-Moss Landing resistance landscape?
A couple things are going on. Monterey Bay is surrounded by Monterey County and Santa Cruz County and both are considering ordinances around battery storage. That’s different than a ban – important. You can have an ordinance that helps facilitate storage. Some people here are very focused on climate change issues and the grid, because here in Santa Cruz County we’re at a terminal point where there really is no renewable energy, so we have to have battery storage. And like, in Santa Cruz County the ordinance would be for unincorporated areas – I’m not sure how materially that would impact things. There’s one storage project in Watsonville near Moss Landing, and the ordinance wouldn’t even impact that. Even in Monterey County, the idea is to issue a moratorium and again, that’s in unincorporated areas, too.
It’s important to say how important battery storage is going to be for the coastal areas. That’s where you see the opposition, but all of our renewables are trapped in southern California and we have a bottleneck that moves power up and down the state. If California doesn’t get offshore wind or wind from Wyoming into the northern part of the state, we’re relying on batteries to get that part of the grid decarbonized.
In the areas of California where batteries are being opposed, who is supporting them and fighting against the protests? I mean, aside from the developers and an occasional climate activist.
The state has been strongly supporting the industry. Lawmakers in the state have been really behind energy storage and keeping things headed in that direction of more deployment. Other than that, I think you’re right to point out there’s not local advocates saying, “We need more battery storage.” It tends to come from Sacramento. I’m not sure you’d see local folks in energy siting usually, but I think it’s also because we are still actually deploying battery storage in some areas of the state. If we were having even more trouble, maybe we’d have more advocacy for development in response.
Has the Moss Landing incident impacted renewable energy development in California? I’ve seen some references to fears about that incident crop up in fights over solar in Imperial County, for example, which I know has been coveted for development.
Everywhere there’s batteries, people are pointing at Moss Landing and asking how people will deal with fires. I don’t know how powerful the arguments are in California, but I see it in almost every single renewable project that has a battery.
Okay, then what do you think the next phase of this is? Are we just going to be trapped in a battery fire fear cycle, or do you think this backlash will evolve?
We’re starting to see it play out here with the state opt-in process where developers can seek state approval to build without local approval. As this situation after Moss Landing has played out, more battery developers have wound up in the opt-in process. So what we’ll see is more battery developers try to get permission from the state as opposed to local officials.
There are some trade-offs with that. But there are benefits in having more resources to help make the decisions. The state will have more expertise in emergency response, for example, whereas every local jurisdiction has to educate themselves. But no matter what I think they’ll be pursuing the opt-in process – there’s nothing local governments can really do to stop them with that.
Part of what we’re seeing though is, you have to have a community benefit agreement in place for the project to advance under the California Environmental Quality Act. The state has been pretty strict about that, and that’s the one thing local folks could still do – influence whether a developer can get a community benefits agreement with representatives on the ground. That’s the one strategy local folks who want to push back on a battery could use, block those agreements. Other than that, I think some counties here in California may not have much resistance. They need the revenue and see these as economic opportunities.
I can’t help but hear optimism in your tone of voice here. It seems like in spite of the disaster, development is still moving forward. Do you think California is doing a better or worse job than other states at deploying battery storage and handling the trade offs?
Oh, better. I think the opt-in process looks like a nice balance between taking local authority away over things and the better decision-making that can be brought in. The state creating that program is one way to help encourage renewables and avoid a backlash, honestly, while staying on track with its decarbonization goals.
The week’s most important fights around renewable energy.
1. Nantucket, Massachusetts – A federal court for the first time has granted the Trump administration legal permission to rescind permits given to renewable energy projects.
2. Harvey County, Kansas – The sleeper election result of 2025 happened in the town of Halstead, Kansas, where voters backed a moratorium on battery storage.
3. Cheboygan County, Michigan – A group of landowners is waging a new legal challenge against Michigan’s permitting primacy law, which gives renewables developers a shot at circumventing local restrictions.
4. Klamath County, Oregon – It’s not all bad news today, as this rural Oregon county blessed a very large solar project with permits.
5. Muscatine County, Iowa – To quote DJ Khaled, another one: This county is also advancing a solar farm, eliding a handful of upset neighbors.