The Right Way to Deal With Election Stress

We’re in the breathless final stretch of this election—when new poll analyses drop seemingly every five minutes, “closing arguments” that contain no new information receive detailed reviews, homepages transform into liveblogs, opinion pages swing wildly between imagining different scenarios, and almost none of it is useful because there simply isn’t much to do other than wait until Election Day. Or rather Election Week: Chances are that we won’t know for days, or even longer, whether the White House will return to a guy who tried to overturn the last presidential election.

In fact, at this stage of the election cycle, The New York Times’ dining section, with its recommendation of what cookies to bake while watching election night coverage, arguably contains more new and useful information than most politics sections: At least you get some tips about baking with brown butter.

But this year, many outlets have added a new genre of article to the mix: how to handle election stress. Experts interviewed by ABC News suggest that people sleep, limit news and social media consumption, and “focus on concrete tasks that they have control over, like helping get people registered to vote or participating in canvassing.” People interviewed by the ABC affiliate in West Palm Beach, Florida, likewise endorse action—and also prayer. Austin news station KXAN suggests people adopt a “day-by-day approach” and use “I” statements when “setting boundaries” with family and friends regarding political discussions. Psychologists in particular had a lot of advice: how to identify the root of your anxiety, “boost optimism up until the last minute,” relax via “deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, aerobic exercise, a warm bath, relaxing music, a walk in nature.” An article from the meditation app Headspace, unsurprisingly, suggested meditation. Washington Post columnist Ruth Marcus said that she knits, “compulsively.”

Your mileage with all these suggestions may vary. Personally, I found even collecting them to be overwhelming. (And that’s not ideal, given that my boss wrote Monday that we have a moral duty not to panic.)

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about a pair of essays Mary Annaïse Heglar wrote for TNR four years ago: the first about how mourning climate change prepared her to weather the Covid-19 pandemic, and the second about how being both a “climate person” and “a Black climate person” affected her perspective on the 2020 presidential election. Mary is emphatically not a “doomer”—i.e., someone who sees all the bad news and figures it’s time to give up. But in these essays, she emphasized the importance of fully acknowledging the weight of the moment, rather than trying to ignore it. “This is painful,” she wrote in March 2020 about Covid and the climate crisis. “It’s supposed to be. We are suffering through a collective trauma. We’re watching our world change, and it feels like it’s falling apart. That’s not supposed to feel OK: It’s not OK. As hard as it is, as painful as it is, we have to accept the reality of our crisis. Denial, often a critical step in the grieving process, is not an option.”

Her assessment of the 2020 election was similarly unflinching. Being a climate writer means understanding just how high the stakes are, and that there’s no such thing as putting the crisis on “pause” for four years. Instead, as writer and activist Bill McKibben has repeatedly observed, in his newsletter The Crucial Years, these next years are more vital than ever—and merely failing to act during this time will put us on a very dangerous path.

“This election,” as Mary put it, “is less about whether we should act on climate than how we should act on it. Should we act with compassion or with cruelty? Given that our national commitment to democracy has become debatable, this election is also about whether we even have the ability to act on climate in any meaningful way in the future.” Against all that, her message was simple: “This past weekend, on the first day of early voting in New York City, I stood in line for more than five hours to vote like my life depended on it. Because it does.”

That’s not a warm bath. On the other hand, it is an “I” statement, and I’d argue it does engage with the “root” of election anxiety. It’s also a kind of optimism. As Mary put it, “I’ll take a shot in hell over a shot to the head any day.”

It’s a line worth meditating on.

Good News/Bad News

Greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere reached record levels last year, according to a new report from the U.N.’s World Meteorological Organization.

Stat of the Week
$3 billion

That’s how much money the Biden administration is disbursing in Inflation Reduction Act–funded grants to green the country’s ports, following an announcement this week.

What I’m Reading

Authoritarianism is on the rise. Is climate change to blame?

“Researchers have long noticed that natural disasters like floods, droughts, and wildfires can help autocratic politicians consolidate power,” writes L.V. Anderson in an unnervingly timely article at Grist. But recent research has helped to narrow down what, exactly, is happening and how people disinclined to give up on democracy can push back:

Until fairly recently, researchers looking at the ties between climate disasters and authoritarianism only had case studies, like Duterte and Trujillo.… But in 2022, economists in the United Kingdom and Australia devised a clever study seeking to prove that storms like hurricanes actually cause a slide toward authoritarianism.… A causal relationship between climate change and authoritarian attitudes has also been demonstrated on a much smaller scale in psychology studies. In 2012, a team of psychologists divided cohorts of German and British university students into two groups and told them they were helping to develop a knowledge test. They informed half of the volunteers about some of the threats associated with climate change—findings about how hazardous heat, wildfires, and glacier loss are projected to worsen in the future. The other half learned “neutral facts” about their respective countries’ weather, forests, and economies, with no mention of climate change. The volunteers who had been told about the perils of climate change expressed more negative opinions of dangerous or marginalized groups—like terrorists, drug addicts, or attack-dog breeders—on a 10-point scale measuring their attitudes toward various demographics.

Read L.V. Anderson’s full report at Grist.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

I’m not sure what I expected when I typed “low-waste Halloween candy” into a search box a few days ago. I know that trying to celebrate a holiday sustainably can get overwhelming—I’ve written before about the proliferation of bonkers advice when it comes to sustainable Christmas trees. But hey, I like Halloween, I’m told my new neighborhood gets a lot of trick-or-treaters, and if I’m going to bulk-order candy I’d rather it not be packaged in layers of petroleum products.

Alas, I learned that this is much easier said than done.

Let’s review some of the top options: First, I came across blog posts suggesting mini-boxes of Junior Mints or Milk Duds or Nerds, which are some of the few candies available in cardboard packaging. I was intrigued until I realized how hard it was to find a one-stop place for these brands. Some stores were sold out, some didn’t carry them at all, some only carried them in strangely high or low quantities, or their prices were ridiculous, and some online retailers couldn’t ship in time. Also, no one in my household or friend circle really likes these candies (the responses in the group chat, when I checked, were vicious), so I’ve no idea what we’d do if the number of trick-or-treaters was lower than anticipated and I suddenly found myself with 60 Nerds boxes to dispose of. Food waste isn’t sustainable, either.

Then there are the eco-friendly brand suggestions: various fair-trade chocolates in paper or foil wrappers; gummies and lollipops in plastic wrappers that made it into sustainable recommendations lists because they’re organic. I did, in the end, buy some of the more cost-effective of the chocolates, since they had good packaging and I’m pretty confident that the excess will be consumed. Many of these options, though, are quite pricey—particularly when compared to getting a plain-old variety bag at CVS or Walmart. If you’re talking about a high-traffic trick-or-treating neighborhood, stocking up solely on fair-trade paper-wrapped chocolates could easily cost you $150 or more.

Then there’s the ubiquitous suggestion to buy from one of those bins at a bulk store “and then portion out sweets like gummy bears or candy corn into paper or cloth bags,” as phrased by The New York Times in its climate advice column on Monday. This is a lot of work, and if we’re talking about candy that’s completely bare, then putting waxed paper around it at home seems unlikely to reassure parents raised on urban myths about contaminated or poisoned treats. Bulk bins of foil-wrapped candy might be another story. But I’ve also no idea where to find these, let alone cheaply; the only store I can instantly name that had a bunch of these bins lies in my hometown, 400 miles away, and it closed nine years ago.

The point isn’t that finding low- or no-waste candy to hand out is impossible. The problem is that it’s hard: It’s likely to be expensive or time-consuming or both.

What makes this situation especially maddening is that there are ways to make this easier for consumers. It shouldn’t be this hard to avoid an explosion of plastic every October. The real answer to the question of how to have a greener Halloween (and everyday life in general) lies not in specialty chocolate but in a wonky meeting being held next month that many of the people searching for sustainable candy recs probably haven’t heard about: the fifth meeting of the UN’s Intergovernmental Negotiating Committee tasked with drafting “an internationally legally binding instrument on plastic pollution.”

Taking place in Busan, Republic of Korea, this meeting is supposed to be the last negotiation session before the treaty is signed early next year. That timeline may wind up being revised. “We are not where we would have liked to be in the process,” Rachel Radvany, an environmental health campaigner with the Center for International Environmental Law, told me. “We haven’t honestly gotten into a true negotiation,” she said, “except on a few of the more specific provisions.”

The fundamental problem is that a lot of states with significant oil wealth don’t want a treaty that reduces plastics production. Instead, they’d prefer to focus on recycling—which, as numerous TNR writers have noted, has never been a serious solution, as it’s not feasible for many types of plastic, releases more microplastics and toxic chemicals in the process, and doesn’t reduce the overall quantity of plastic. Leaked documents have recently shown that the petrochemical industry deliberately spread the false idea that most plastics would be recycled in order to keep producing plastic.

There are lots of policies, however, that governments could enact to reduce our overall reliance on plastic. It’s not just about bans on plastic bags or water bottles—many countries have banned single-use plastics, “and we’re still seeing the problem getting worse,” Radvany said. “You have to have policies that prioritize reuse systems and reuse services and give funding for that to build that out.” Ideally, reusable materials should be nonplastic ones to begin with, she added, given that even reusable plastics contain a lot of toxic chemicals. Policymakers could also ban those chemicals. Figuring out which ones to ban “could be assessed by a scientific body within the treaty to determine if they’re carcinogenic or things like that. And then those chemicals would be phased out.” Alternatives to plastics already exist, and more could be developed at scale if the treaty were to include funding for that.

Getting any of these policies enacted would be hard. But it’s also arguably easier than asking millions of consumers to de-plastic their lives in a global economy that’s suffused with plastic. “Once it’s produced in the market, you as a consumer can’t control what you’re being exposed to,” Radvany said. “They’re finding microplastics in everything, every part of our bodies,” and researchers are only beginning to understand how this is affecting human health.

“You can put in a lot of effort to have a green Halloween, to buy less plastics, to feed your kids food that’s not packaged in plastic, but there’s only so much you as a consumer can do,” she said. “It’s exhausting and impossible to stop exposing yourself to these things.”

Think she’s exaggerating? Go ahead, run around town trying to get a decent deal on hundreds of pieces of candy in sustainable packaging. Then do it for the costumes and decorations. Did I mention that Christmas is right around the corner?

Good News/Bad News

Researchers are studying ancient Roman concrete for clues about how to make modern concrete manufacturing—a massive greenhouse gas emitter—more sustainable, The New York Times’ Amos Zeeberg reports.

Heat pumps were supposed to be the easy switch, the win-win proposition that saved people money and cut emissions without too much massive infrastructure investment needed. But “heat pump investment in the United States has dropped by 4 percent in the past two years, even as sales of EVs have almost doubled,” The Washington Post

reports. The experts the Post interviews seem divided: This trend could be because of inflation and interest rates, but it could also be because contractors lack training and there’s a lot of misinformation circulating.

Stat of the Week
2 weeks

That’s how long it took after a widely publicized “radical” nonviolent environmental protest for surveys to show an increase in support for more moderate environmental groups, in a recent study. Instead of turning people off environmentalism, the researchers suggest, so-called radicals (and their disruptive but nonviolent protests) might play a role “in driving change.”

What I’m Reading

One issue will decide Arizona’s future. Nobody’s campaigning on it.

Amid the deluge of political ads in the swing state of Arizona right now, reporter Jake Bittle notices one thing missing: the Western water crisis that’s getting worse and worse, while negotiations over how to manage it sputter and stall.

Arizona voters know that they’re deciding the country’s future—the state is one of just a half-dozen likely to determine the next president—but it’s unclear if they know that they’re voting on an existential threat in their own backyards.… During a week reporting in the state, I saw exactly one ad that focused on the issue. It was a billboard in Tucson announcing that Kirsten Engel, the Democratic candidate for a pivotal congressional seat, supports “Protecting Arizona from Drought”—not exactly the most substantive engagement with the issue.

The reason for this avoidance is simple, according to Nick Ponder, a vice president of government affairs at HighGround, a leading Arizona political strategy firm. He said that while many voters in the state rank water among their top three or four issues, most don’t have a detailed understanding of water policy—meaning it’s unlikely that they’ll vote based on how candidates say they’ll handle water issues.

Read Jake Bittle’s full report at Grist.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

Mass deportations, using a 151-year-old law as a national abortion ban, privatizing the National Weather Service, sending the military after the “radical left”: These are some of the policies, proposed by Trump or his supporters, that have made headlines in recent months. But in the past week, reporters have increasingly been looking into the ways that Trump-proposed policies could have far-reaching effects on another big part of the country: its food supply.

Trump’s anti-immigration policy is the most obvious example. “The role of immigrants in the American food system is difficult to overstate,” Frida Garza and Ayurella Horn-Muller write for Grist and El País. “Every year, hundreds of thousands of people, the vast majority of them coming from Mexico, legally obtain H-2A visas that allow them to enter the U.S. as seasonal agricultural workers and then return home when the harvest is done.” Another estimated 1.7 million undocumented workers are also employed “in some part of the U.S. food supply chain.”

What would happen if all those workers suddenly disappeared? Replacing them, Garza and Horn-Muller report, wouldn’t be easy, since U.S. workers often don’t find these jobs appealing. The shock to the system would likely drive a spike in food prices. And even if mass deportation policies didn’t survive legal challenges, the “chilling effect” of the threat could still disrupt the industry—and harm a lot of people.

Tariffs could also send food prices skyrocketing. While both parties have proposed strikingly high tariffs in recent years, the ones Trump has proposed recently are much broader than the Biden administration’s (already pretty extreme) 100 percent tariff on Chinese electric vehicles. Trump, The Washington Post’s Jeff Stein and David J. Lynch note, has “floated ‘automatic’ tariffs of 10 percent to 20 percent on every U.S. trading partner, 60 percent levies on goods from China, and rates as high as 100, 200 or even 1,000 percent in other circumstances.” Even if these were “only partially implemented,” Stein and Lynch write, “the consequences would be far-reaching: Americans would be hit by higher prices for grocery staples from abroad, such as fruit, vegetables and coffee.” If you’re looking for specifics, the reporters point to one estimate that 90 percent of tomatoes sold in the U.S. are imported.

The policies in Project 2025—a playbook for the next Republican president written by conservative thinkers and former Trump administration officials, which Trump has tried (unsuccessfully) to distance himself from—go further still. It proposes getting rid of dietary guidelines, which “form the basis for all federal food policies, from school meals to SNAP, WIC and other programs,” Cecilia Nowell reports for The Guardian this week. Project 2025 also proposes changes to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program and the additional program for Women, Infants and Children that would likely reduce such assistance, by reinstituting work requirements and restricting eligibility. With regard to WIC, Project 2025 suggests changing the bidding and contracting process for baby formula and having the president “re-evaluate excessive regulation” of baby formula, which Project 2025 blames for formula shortages. (In 2022, contaminated baby formula led to widespread recalls and multiple infant deaths.)

The evidence behind these proposals is weak. Republicans push work requirements in the belief that receiving SNAP benefits reduces the incentive to work, but as University of Washington researcher Pia Chaparro told Civil Eats reporter Grey Moran, “research shows that SNAP participation reduces food insecurity but does not act as a disincentive to work. Moreover, research shows that the work requirements don’t lead to increased employment.”

As for the proposals to change WIC and the state contracts for baby formula, removing the competitive bidding process could easily “result in a funding shortfall, jeopardize access to WIC for millions of parents, infants, and young children, and result in higher formula prices for all consumers,” expert Katie Bergh told Civil Eats.

This isn’t an exhaustive list of all the ways Project 2025 proposals would affect the food system. Nor does it cover all the ways other policies publicly proposed by Trump himself could affect food in this country. (After all, inaction on climate change is already wreaking havoc on agriculture and harvests.) As news outlets continue probing the concrete ramifications of culture-war-inspired policies, however, it’s a useful reminder of a basic truth: Culture-war policies don’t stay in the realm of culture. And they often have ramifications far beyond what might immediately be apparent.

Good News/Bad News

E.V. charging stations are a hard sell because they’re not very profitable. But The Washington Post explores the idea that charging stations could “borrow the business model that has made gas stations ubiquitous: Sell fuel at a loss as a way to get people to buy snacks, drinks and other items.”

Two years after countries agreed to fight biodiversity collapse by protecting 30 percent of the planet for wild ecosystems, The Guardian reports, only 25 countries have actually followed through and submitted their plans, while 170 have missed the deadline. “The world,” reporters Patrick Greenfield and Daisy Dunne write, “has never yet met a single target in the history of UN biodiversity agreements, and there had been a major push to make sure this decade was different.”

Stat of the Week
52%

That’s how many Floridians say they would prefer a political candidate who wants to tackle climate change, according to a new survey. Unsurprisingly, there is a large partisan split.

What I’m Reading

Biobanking Corals: One Woman’s Mission to Save Coral Genetics in Turks and Caicos to Rebuild Reefs of the Future

So many people are hungry for “good news” stories about climate change. But as Teresa Tomassoni’s profile of Turks and Caicos Reef Fund executive director Alizee Zimmerman shows, sometimes the “good news” stories aren’t “good news” in the sense of the environment doing better than expected. Sometimes, they’re about people facing forces they can’t stop, trying to find small ways to preserve future options. Tomassoni writes about the effort to create a “Noah’s ark” for Caribbean corals as mass bleaching events decimate the global coral population:

Scientists first removed corals from the water on a large scale to hold them in captivity for the long-term so they wouldn’t go extinct in 2018, in response to Stony Coral Tissue Loss Disease. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission and NOAA partnered with the Association of Zoos and Aquariums and other facilities to collect and hold some of Florida’s most vulnerable corals on land with the goal of propagating them in the future. It was the largest coral rescue effort in history.

Zimmermann wanted to learn how she could do the same, albeit on a much smaller scale in Turks and Caicos.… The Turks and Caicos government had granted permission for Zimmermann to retrieve corals from the ocean, with the caveat that they should be “corals of opportunity,” she said. Whenever possible, she said, they wanted her to collect corals that likely would have been destroyed if they weren’t rescued from a coastal development project. She knew just the right ones.

A few months earlier, she’d gotten word that an old dock on the eastern end of Providenciales was slated to be ripped up for renovations. She’d heard there were corals growing on its underwater structure and went snorkeling to see for herself.… Zimmermann recruited around 30 volunteers to help her rescue the animals, which would have otherwise been killed during the dock renovations. She divided them into two teams. Half of the people entered the water with snorkel gear and hammers and chisels they used to carefully break off live corals from the dock and place them in shopping baskets they kept underwater. When they were full, the snorkelers brought them to the surface and handed them over to other volunteers on deck who transported them on a boat to an old abandoned conch farm. The group rescued more than 400 corals.

Read Teresa Tomassoni’s full report at Inside Climate News.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

I’ve been thinking a lot, recently, about a piece Mariette Williams wrote for TNR four years ago. Williams recalled her first hurricane, as a college student, hunkering down with a handful of international students in their school’s dining hall in South Florida for three days with the power out. “We ate single-serve boxes of cereal and drank juice boxes—whatever nonperishables the dining hall had.” She didn’t remember the name of the storm. “What sticks out in my mind is what those who were able to leave as danger approached all had in common: money.”

Williams didn’t evacuate for hurricanes in her twenties, either, and neither did her friends: “We had just started making payments on our student loans and second-hand cars,” she wrote. “Leaving meant having a job flexible enough to give time off and either driving the eight-plus hours to the nearest state to book a hotel or buying airline tickets before prices tripled or quadrupled.” Her first evacuation came with Hurricane Maria in 2017: Both her and her husband’s work closed ahead of the storm, “We had a big enough window to plan our evacuation, and we could finally afford to leave.” The price tag was $1,500.

I thought about Williams’s piece as Hurricane Helene bore down on the Florida Panhandle, as reports emerged of the devastating floods in the Appalachians, and while reading reports that workers at a plastics plant in Tennessee were ordered to stay on the job as the floodwaters rose—with deadly consequences. And now of course there’s Hurricane Milton.

“Just watched an NBC meteorologist cry on air talking about how terrifying Hurricane Milton is,” the writer and communications expert Hannah Riley wrote in a tweet that quickly went viral Monday evening, “& then the next thing I saw was a woman in the evacuation zone saying she has literally nowhere to go—all the hotels are booked & she doesn’t have a lot of money & has 4 dogs/6 kids.” A woman matching that description—Amanda Moss, The Washington Post reported Tuesday night—has posted multiple videos to this effect on TikTok, noting that her seven-passenger car cannot fit nine people (her immediate family and her mother-in-law) and four dogs. (Even if she could, as early as Monday evacuees were reporting massive traffic jams and fuel shortages at gas stations along the route.) “Moss said she doesn’t have the money to pack her family on a flight, into multiple hotel rooms or into an Airbnb,” the Post reported.

This is not surprising. Thirty-seven percent of American adults surveyed by the Fed in 2023 said they didn’t have the cash on hand to cover an unexpected $400 expense. Some said they’d put the expense on a credit card “and pay it off over time”—a practice that can quickly add up to crippling debt. Thirteen percent said they simply wouldn’t be able to pay for the expense at all. And that’s for $400. In 2022, the average cost for evacuating for Hurricane Harvey was estimated to be three times that: $1,200. And evacuations can cost much more, especially depending on duration of stay. In 2018, a researcher interviewed by NPR estimated the cost of evacuating a four-person family for a week, if they didn’t have relatives to stay with, at “upward of $2,000.” There’s been quite a bit of inflation since then.

The death count from Helene is now over 230 and is still rising. Unless something very surprising happens, more people are going to die in the next 24 hours from Hurricane Milton. Many of those deaths will be hard to call “accidents,” in the classical sense of something unexpected. Congress may not even return from recess for it to pass supplemental disaster relief. We live in a society that is strikingly nonchalant about the idea that some people are just going to die because they don’t have enough money.

Good News/Bad News

The International Energy Agency reports this week that while the world is not on track to add the appropriate amount of clean energy by 2030, the target can still be met—if, as Heatmap’s Jessica Hullinger summarizes, “governments can get their acts together, set bold new emission reduction targets in the coming months, and work together to lower the energy transition costs for poorer countries.”

Global deforestation seems to be increasing, rather than slowing down.

Stat of the Week
200 to 500x more likely

That’s climate change’s contribution to the unusual heat in the Gulf of Mexico that exacerbated Hurricane Helene, according to a new analysis. That analysis may also hold for Hurricane Milton.

What I’m Reading

The 2024 state of the climate report: Perilous times on planet Earth

Even if journal articles aren’t typically your cup of tea, you may want to make an exception for this one. It’s not boring—there’s even a section on the “risk of societal collapse.” An excerpt from the introduction:

We are on the brink of an irreversible climate disaster. This is a global emergency beyond any doubt. Much of the very fabric of life on Earth is imperiled. We are stepping into a critical and unpredictable new phase of the climate crisis. For many years, scientists, including a group of more than 15,000, have sounded the alarm about the impending dangers of climate change driven by increasing greenhouse gas emissions and ecosystem change.… Despite these warnings, we are still moving in the wrong direction; fossil fuel emissions have increased to an all-time high, the 3 hottest days ever occurred in July of 2024 (Guterres 2024), and current policies have us on track for approximately 2.7 degrees Celsius (°C) peak warming by 2100 (UNEP 2023). Tragically, we are failing to avoid serious impacts, and we can now only hope to limit the extent of the damage.

Read the full article at Bioscience.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

In Tuesday night’s vice presidential debate, moderator Norah O’Donnell asked JD Vance about the death toll from Hurricane Helene, while referring to the research showing that climate change intensifies the rainfall from these storms. “What responsibility,” she asked, “would the Trump administration have to try and reduce the impact of climate change?”

Vance, after expressing horror over the loss of life, moved on to what one might charitably call the substance of his response: If, “just for the sake of argument,” he said, carbon emissions really were driving climate change, the goal should be “to reshore as much American manufacturing as possible, and you’d want to produce as much energy as possible in the United States of America because we’re the cleanest economy in the world.” (We are not.)

Tim Walz responded by saying that “my farmers know climate change is real,” but then he too shifted his focus to American manufacturing, citing “the E.V. technology that we invented,” “the largest solar manufacturing plant in North America,” and “jobs all across the country” created by the Inflation Reduction Act. When O’Donnell followed up by asking about Trump calling climate change a hoax, Vance pivoted again to the need to make solar panels in the U.S., not China; Walz touted record oil and gas production.

Of the swing voters who participated in The Washington Post’s focus group, 13 thought Vance had the better answer, while only nine thought Walz did.

TNR’s Kate Aronoff has written previously about the strange difficulty that Democrats have demonstrated in crafting a compelling narrative around climate change and climate policy. The presidential debate between Kamala Harris and Trump, she wrote, “should be a cautionary tale for how stupid and dangerous it is for Democrats to keep taking on Republicans’ talking points as their own.”

And the horrifying reality of Hurricane Helene, she wrote earlier this week, exposes the moral insufficiency of portraying global warming as primarily a narrative about American manufacturing: “Next to images of entire downtown areas half-submerged in floodwaters, or homes moving faster than a river tube, touting the administration’s successful boost of the construction of manufacturing facilities rings hollow,” Kate wrote. “Framing climate action primarily as a good-news story in which the U.S. will come to dominate green export sectors overlooks the very real pocketbook struggles the climate crisis is already causing.”

Researchers at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory have already estimated that climate change “caused over 50 percent more rainfall during Hurricane Helene in some parts of Georgia and the Carolinas,” due to laws of physics dictating that warmer air holds more water vapor. Before Helene made landfall, the storm traveled over Gulf waters that were significantly warmer than average. And this is part of a broader trend. As Inside Climate News reported this week, “The amount of rain in the most intense rainstorms has increased 37 percent in the Southeast since 1958.”

In the past few days, news outlets have reported some of the stories from the communities deluged with Helene’s increased rainfall: a 75-year-old man calling for help for seven hours before falling into the floodwaters, as horrified friends and family watched; two grandparents stranded on their roof before drowning, along with with their 7-year-old grandchild; a mother and her 1-month-old twin boys killed by a tree falling on their mobile home. There was an American manufacturing angle in there as well: the factory employees who were left holding onto pipes on the back of a truck that eventually flipped, leaving them to the mercies of the raging floods. One of the workers is confirmed dead; another told reporters their managers ordered them to keep working as the waters rose.

Over 160 people have now been confirmed dead. Millions are without power, and at least 400,000 people have seen their water systems fail and are now without potable water except for what is being distributed by relief teams—the true number is likely higher, since 1,293 water systems are either “non-operational,” only semi-operational, or of unknown status, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. Restoring water access in Asheville, North Carolina, could take “weeks.”

The question of what responsibility politicians have to address this devastation and prevent it in the future can be answered many ways. Congress could cancel its long recess and return to Washington to pass the supplemental disaster funding it left out of a bill last week. Policymakers could start rethinking home insurance as the first line of defense in these disasters: Most of the homes affected by Helene didn’t have flood insurance because it’s not included in regular home insurance. Moreover, the insurance industry doesn’t have the best track record in states feeling the effects of climate change, such as California and Florida, where premiums are rising. Some insurers have simply abandoned these states altogether.

Major infrastructure investments could make communities more resilient in the future, and as these severe weather events become more common, we also might want to make sure that people affected by them aren’t disenfranchised because of difficulties voting in the aftermath of these disasters. Then there’s the underlying problem: Unless the world starts burning fewer fossil fuels, this will only get worse.

But that’s not what people heard Tuesday night in the vice presidential debate. Instead, the vice presidential candidates argued about who would create more jobs and eat China’s lunch. If politicians can’t talk seriously about climate change even in the wake of a “biblical” disaster wiping out areas once described as “climate havens,” when will they?

Good News

The U.K.—the ultimate coal nation—has shut its last coal-fired plant, becoming the first G7 country to close the book on coal power.

Bad News

A new analysis finds that the destruction from hurricanes and tropical storms has a long tail: “Death rates in affected states remain elevated for 15 years after a storm makes landfall,” The Washington Post reports.

Stat of the Week
40 trillion

That’s how many gallons of rain dropped on the Southeastern United States in just five days, thanks to Hurricane Helene and the storm that preceded it, according to one calculation

What I’m Reading

As climate change helps mosquitoes spread disease, critics push for alternative to pesticides

As mosquito populations rise and spread, bringing West Nile and other diseases with them, a lot of areas are looking to reduce their numbers. The typical way to do that is by spraying pesticides that kill adult mosquitoes—“adulticide,” Diana Kruzman reports. But there’s reason to worry about the effects that spraying endocrine-disrupting pesticides might have on vulnerable humans like pregnant women and children, let alone the rest of the ecosystem. There could be another way, Diana Kruzman reports at Grist:

Some governments are also experimenting with releasing genetically modified mosquitoes into the wild to breed sterile offspring, reducing mosquito populations. Nanopesticides, which are less toxic to mammals but still affect mosquitoes, are also a promising area of research. However, advocates say that the most proven way to deal with mosquitoes is by reducing their ability to breed—by clearing away pools of standing water and utilizing larvicides—and educating the public to protect themselves using long clothing and repellents.

Feldman pointed to the success of programs in cities like Boulder, Colorado, and Washington, D.C., as proof that adulticides don’t need to be a major part of mosquito control efforts. The agency responsible for tracking and preventing the spread of West Nile virus in the nation’s capital, for example, does not use adulticides; instead, the D.C. Department of Health concentrates its efforts on larviciding, even handing out free larvicides for residents to apply in their own neighborhoods. Boulder, meanwhile, utilizes an explicitly “ecological” approach; boosting biodiversity, local officials have found, can lower populations of disease-carrying mosquitoes by forcing them to compete for resources with other species of mosquitoes as well as other kinds of insects.

Read Diana Kruzman’s full report at Grist.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

Heritage Foundation president and Project 2025 architect Kevin Roberts stands accused this week of killing his neighbor’s dog with a shovel circa 2004. Three people who knew Roberts during his time at New Mexico State University told The Guardian that they remember Roberts telling them that he had killed the dog because it was barking too much. Three more people reportedly recall hearing the story at the time from those colleagues. Guardian reporter Stephanie Kirchgaessner also tracked down Roberts’s neighbor, who said that his dog, Loca—he provided a photo—indeed disappeared around 2004, when the neighbor was 16.

Killing a teenage neighbor’s pet out of irritation and then telling co-workers about it might seem like a whole new level of bizarre, even for this already surreal election cycle. Roberts, however, denies it, calling the allegation “patently untrue and baseless.” In some ways, that denial is the most unusual part of this whole story.

Had Roberts confirmed that he killed a dog, he would hardly be the only prominent conservative in recent years to treat such an act as a badge of honor. The most striking example is Kristi Noem, who stunned the country this spring by bragging in her book about shooting her 14-month-old puppy and a family goat, portraying the story as an example of her grit and fortitude. (The dog, apparently, was hard to train and killed some chickens while off leash. The goat was “mean.”) The book was widely seen as an attempt to burnish her credentials for Trump’s V.P. slot. In response to the widespread backlash, Noem dug in, insisting that these were the sorts of tough calls necessitated by country life.

The episode made for lots of late-night satire. But if you cast your memory back a bit further, you can kind of see where Noem got the idea that killing animals and boasting about it was a form of informal right-wing résumé building, akin to knocking back bourbon after work to prove you can hang with the boys.

I’m not talking about Mitt Romney—the strangely ubiquitous comparison made in news coverage of Noem’s book. Romney may have strapped his dog to the roof of his car using a windshield-equipped crate in 1983, but he did not kill his dog, nor did he intend to kill his dog, and he bristled at those comparing him to Noem—which makes sense, because Romney’s conservatism has never been the sort for which animal cruelty functions as an in-group signifier. (If Mitt Romney had killed his dog, it would have seemed incoherent and try-hard, because he’s just not cowboy-coded.)

The better example of this trend would be Montana Governor Greg Gianforte, who has repeatedly incorporated questionably legal violence into his “rugged Westerner” brand. While Gianforte first made headlines for assaulting a human reporter in 2017, he also illegally killed an underage elk in 2000, and then received a written warning in 2021 for trapping and shooting a collared Yellowstone wolf without having taken Montana’s required (and free) wolf-trapping certification course—which covers, among other things, trapping ethics. Trapping critics argue that there is no such thing as humane trapping, given that the trapped animal may suffer for hours or even days. But Gianforte campaigned on the issue, saying that “the effort to stop trapping in Montana is an attack on our heritage.”

Gianforte again made headlines in 2022 when he shot and killed a researcher-monitored mountain lion that hunting dogs had pursued up a tree. This time, the killing was legal, although there was some dispute about whether the dogs had kept the mountain lion up a tree for hours before the governor arrived to shoot it—just as there was some question, with the wolf trapping, about whether the governor had been called from far away to finish off the trapped animal.

Gianforte, whom Trump has called “my guy,” falls into a category of Republican politician that has grown more prominent over the past two decades: the hunter that even other hunters express misgivings about. In 2003, Vice President Dick Cheney participated in a so-called “canned hunt,” shooting pheasants that had been raised in captivity and then released specifically for this event. “I don’t see anything terribly wrong with it, but I don’t think it should be confused with hunting,” Sid Evans of the hunting magazine Field & Stream told The New York Times.

The Republican Party at this point was losing its animal-friendly vibe in general. While Nixon was a staunch conservationist, and George H.W. Bush banned ivory imports to protect African elephants, the younger Bush proposed reversing the ban on importing hunting trophies of endangered species into the U.S., and later named a top lobbyist for the trophy hunting organization Safari Club International as acting director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. (Bush received the organization’s “Governor of the Year” award in 2000, over the objections of the Humane Society.)

In the 2008 election, vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s support for aerial wolf gunning—a practice deliberately designed to give hunters the advantage and thin out wolf numbers—was denounced by animal lovers but lauded by her supporters, who loved her “frontier femme” identity politics. After the 2008 election loss, Palin ritualistically pardoned a Thanksgiving turkey but gave an interview in front of a man decapitating the other birds. The show Sarah Palin’s Alaska routinely featured graphic footage of the governor and her family hunting and gutting animals.

Then, of course, there were the Trump children. In 2011, Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump traveled to Zimbabwe with a safari firm that Zimbabwean conservationists later said was not registered in the country. They killed an elephant and leopard, among other animals, posing with the dead bodies. “I AM A HUNTER I don’t hide from that,” Trump Jr. tweeted when the photos surfaced the following year. In late 2019, ProPublica reported that Trump Jr. had received “special treatment” during a trip to Mongolia, shooting an endangered argali sheep, for which he was retroactively given a permit after meeting with Mongolia’s president. (The hunting trip was later reported to have cost American taxpayers over $75,000.)

The Trump administration, incidentally, also oversaw the reversal of policies banning the imports of lion trophies into the U.S., and re-legalized controversial hunting tactics like killing wolf pups and using bait to kill bears and wolves in the Alaska wilderness—mere months after the Safari Club had auctioned off a seven-day Alaskan deer and sea-duck hunt with Trump Jr. as part of its annual convention.

This isn’t a comprehensive list, because the examples are too numerous to recount. In 2022, Trump’s former secretary of the interior, Ryan Zinke, posted a picture of himself pressing a hot cattle brand into a strapped-down calf during his congressional campaign. As Jan Dutkiewicz and Gabriel Rosenberg memorably wrote for The New Republic last year, meat eating is now so entrenched as a masculinity marker on the American right that vegetarian men minding their own business are now mockingly referred to as “soy boys.”

It wasn’t a foregone conclusion that willingness to kill animals would become a kind of right-wing purity test. In the 2012 primaries, noted animal lover Newt Gingrich attacked Mitt Romney over the dog-on-car episode. Gingrich was similarly unimpressed by Noem’s dog-killing story. Yet the Gingrich-like voices are increasingly drowned out by the Noems, or by Ron DeSantis decrying the horrors of meat that hasn’t come specifically from a dead animal.

So maybe Kevin Roberts bragged at work about killing his kid neighbor’s dog with a shovel, or maybe he didn’t. At this point in the history of American conservatism, he’s going to have a tough time convincing people to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Good News/Bad News

The U.S. is not, contrary to President Biden’s claim at the U.N. on Tuesday, on track to cut emissions by 50 percent by 2030.

Stat of the Week
7/9

Seven of the nine “planetary boundaries” keeping life on earth stable may now have been crossed, according to the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research.

What I’m Reading

In Praise of Climate Virtue Signaling

In recent years, politicians have tried to portray the climate crisis as something that can be solved without major behavioral shifts, worried about sounding preachy or alienating voters. Matt Reynolds at Wired has mixed feelings about that:

I think about this dynamic a lot when it comes to food, and particularly alternatives to beef, which has an outsized carbon footprint compared with almost any other foodstuff. A lot of people hope that making plant-based burgers cheap and tasty will be enough to switch vast numbers of meat-eaters over to the plant-based side. When I hang out at alternative protein conferences, no one wants to talk about the morals of eating meat, although I suspect that is a major motivator for many of the people there. They assume that argument won’t win over any converts to pea protein burgers or whatever.

Maybe they’re right. But I suspect that if we ignore the moral component of climate decisions, we drastically limit the whole scope of our climate ambition. It’s not that morals should make up the whole or even a significant part of our decisionmaking, and we shouldn’t expect people to be morally consistent either. Morality isn’t the whole part of the climate story, but it’s not exactly a footnote either.

Read Matt Reynolds’s full piece at Wired.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

When running for president in 2020, Joe Biden pledged to end subsidies to the fossil fuel industry, ban all new oil and gas drilling (including fracking) on public lands, spend $2 trillion on clean energy and infrastructure, and rejoin the Paris climate accord. Multiple environmental groups dubbed it the “most ambitious climate platform in history.”

In Kamala Harris’s acceptance speech at the Democratic convention last month, she mentioned climate change only once. When asked about it during the presidential debate, she responded that “I am proud that as vice president over the last four years, we have invested a trillion dollars in a clean energy economy while we have also increased domestic gas production to historic levels,” and elsewhere she bragged about being “the tie-breaking vote on the Inflation Reduction Act, which opened new leases for fracking.”

Why is Harris so much more reluctant to talk about the climate crisis than Biden was in 2020? Why is she so much more reluctant than she herself was in 2020? And why is she embracing the so-called “all of the above” approach to energy, portraying clean energy as a complement to fossil fuels rather than an eventual substitute?

One answer I’ve repeatedly seen suggested is that she’s responding to voter preferences, and voters care less about climate change in 2024 than they did in 2020. “Fewer Americans today see climate change as a ‘very serious problem’ than they did three years ago,” The Hill reported in May, based on a Monmouth University poll. “Democrats see talking about the environment as a lose-lose proposition,” The Washington Post reported in August. (And rightly so, the piece seemed to suggest, finishing with a quote from a voter who said, “The environment is not my top thing.… Sorry.”) Bill McKibben, trying to divine Harris’s climate positions after Biden withdrew from the race, acknowledged that “since most of what we know about her stands on energy and climate date from the 2020 primaries, it’s important to remember the context. We were pretty near peak-Greta … and polls were showing that the number one issue for many Democratic voters was climate change.”

But it’s not clear that voters actually do care less about climate in 2024. (It would be remarkable if they did, given that we continue to smash temperature records and severe weather records and the home insurance industry seems to be fleeing entire states now.) The Yale Program on Climate Change Communication and the George Mason University Center for Climate Change conduct some of the most comprehensive annual surveys on American public opinion on climate change. When I asked YPCCC director Anthony Leiserowitz whether he was seeing numbers suggesting people care less about climate change today than they did in 2020, he observed that, on the contrary, voters’ views on whether global warming should be a major presidential priority have “been pretty consistent among all party/ideological groups at least back to 2018/2019.”

The liberal Democrats making up the party’s base now claim global warming as their fourth-highest priority. But that’s actually not a big shift from ranking it second or third, for example, and it doesn’t seem to be because they care less. Rather, abortion (their current second-highest priority) seems to have become especially urgent for respondents after Roe was overturned, and “free and fair U.S. elections” (their top priority) likewise—presumably after Donald Trump’s attempt to overturn the 2020 election.

Have voters, then, grown more fond of drilling and fracking, in a way that would explain Harris’s shift? Also no. “In 2022,” Leiserowitz wrote to me via email, “‘energy independence’ did shoot up considerably as a voting priority, but that was almost certainly driven by spiking gas prices at the time. Its voting priority has since dropped back to 2020 levels.” The same pattern was observed in voters’ support for expanding offshore drilling or drilling on public lands. “I don’t see anything in these numbers that suggests American voters are now more supportive of ‘all of the above’ than they were in 2020,” he wrote.

So why is the Harris campaign hitting this message so conspicuously? One possibility, previously discussed in this newsletter, is that they’re playing to Pennsylvania—the state most likely to decide the 2024 election. This explanation has some intuitive appeal: Although Biden would have been eyeing Pennsylvania in 2020 as well, the Harris-Trump race in Pennsylvania is much tighter right now than it was at this time in 2020.

But there are problems with this story too. Leiserowitz pointed to a prominent New York Times report this week that suggested that low natural gas prices, not fracking policy, are the “big energy issue” in the state right now, while Pennsylvanians remain worried about fracking’s effects on groundwater.

Perhaps a more persuasive explanation for the difference between Biden 2020 and Harris 2024 has to do with primaries. Facing Bernie Sanders in the 2020 primary seemed to draw Biden leftward on climate change. Harris, by contrast, didn’t face a Democratic primary in 2024. (And notably, when she competed in the 2020 primary, she favored banning fracking.) Primaries require candidates to court the party’s base, rather than centrists and swing voters.

If part of the narrative around Harris’s silence on climate change is that voters care less than they did in 2020, the second part of the narrative is that her silence doesn’t really matter. “I am not concerned,” Governor Jay Inslee told the Times when asked about this, espousing the common view that Harris’s job right now is to beat Trump and that “when she is in a position to effect positive change, she will.” The Times also quoted Biden climate adviser Gina McCarthy saying, “Nobody’s worried about how many times she talks about climate change.”

While campaign promises don’t determine governing, they do frame the window through which the governing is evaluated. Biden ultimately retreated from several of his climate campaign promises, but the fact that he had promised to end drilling on federal lands was part of why his administration’s lease auctions and speedy approval of drilling permits got as much attention as they did. Should Harris win in November, there won’t be any such climate pledges to hold her to.

The Harris camp may consider that a plus, of course. But it could cause problems down the road: As TNR’s Kate Aronoff has repeatedly observed, Democrats have struggled to tell a compelling story about climate change and the policies that could ameliorate it. That makes it hard, she writes, for them either to win big in elections or to build support for their climate policies. At some point, party leaders will have to start drafting and testing a better strategy—and given climate scientists’ increasingly frantic warnings these days, sooner would be better than later.

Good News/Bad News

Inside Climate News reports on NASA’s effort to “revive” commercial supersonic air travel, despite projections that the supersonic planes would burn anywhere between three and 10 times as much fuel as conventional planes.

Stat of the Week
662%

That’s how much higher the emissions from Big Tech’s data centers likely are than officially reported, according to new analysis by The Guardian.

What I’m Reading

These states tried, and failed, to cut food waste. One succeeded.

Food waste accounts for half of all food-system greenhouse gas emissions globally, according to the U.N., and in the U.S. emits the equivalent of 50 million cars on the road per year. California, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Massachusetts were the first five states to pass laws tackling food waste. But of those, only Massachusetts’s law worked, according to a new study. The Post’s Anna Phillips explains why:

The study identified several factors that could explain Massachusetts’ success.

First, the state had built the most extensive network of food-waste-composting sites, making it relatively simple and affordable for businesses to divert food from landfills and incinerators. Massachusetts’ law had no special exemptions and was easy for business owners to understand. Massachusetts also increased the cost of not following the rules and had conducted the most compliance checks.

“By contrast, there is almost no enforcement in other states,” the study’s authors wrote. The effect of [the] other four bans, or lack of effect, “suggests widespread noncompliance with US food waste bans—i.e., that food waste is still being landfilled despite the bans,” they wrote.

Read Anna Phillips’s full report at The Washington Post.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

In her speech accepting the Democratic nomination for president last week, Kamala Harris gave the biggest existential crisis of our lifetimes roughly the same amount of time as a recollection of her parents playing Miles Davis: She mentioned it exactly once. In fact, it didn’t even get its own sentence. “The freedom to breathe clean air, and drink clean water and live free from the pollution that fuels the climate crisis” (emphasis added) was listed among many other “fundamental freedoms” under threat in the 2024 election.

Media outlets have been noticing this tendency of the Harris campaign—and they’ve also been reporting that this strategy might be fine, actually.

“Harris Goes Light on Climate Policy. Green Leaders Are OK With That,” read a New York Times headline on a story in which Washington Governor Jay Inslee says, “I am totally confident that when she is in a position to effect positive change, she will.” In other words: Harris needs to win first. Winning, so the wisdom goes, means not alienating swing voters with too much fracking talk. Politico, meanwhile, noted that climate activists who have protested the Biden administration’s drilling record “are pursuing a new strategy with his would-be successor: Get Kamala Harris elected now, ask questions later.”

“Democrats see talking about the environment as a lose-lose proposition,” reported Maxine Joselow for The Washington Post. “If they call for curbing fossil fuel production to fight global warming, they risk alienating voters in Pennsylvania, a pivotal swing state where natural gas powers the economy. But if they tout record U.S. oil production that has helped lower energy costs, they risk angering young voters.” While climate policy polls well, Joselow wrote, “of 28 issues, global warming ranks 19th in importance to registered voters.” The piece concludes with a Philadelphia woman saying to canvassers from the Environmental Voter Project: “The environment is not my top thing … sorry.”

Is it true that Harris needs to keep quiet about climate and environmental policy in order to win? Honestly, who’s to say? Some polls have indeed found that voters are less concerned about the climate now than they were in 2020—a bonkers conclusion given that 2024 is so far the hottest year on record, with experts increasingly abandoning the idea that global warming can be limited to 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 degrees Fahrenheit). But there you have it!

What’s striking, though, is the implicit fatalism of this retreat into conventional wisdom, in an election that has already proven fatalists, and their conventional wisdom, about as spectacularly wrong as they’ve ever been. Harris could still lose in November, to be sure, but a lot of people thought there was zero chance of off-ramping Joe Biden even though he struggled to complete sentences in the first debate, and many others doubted that the party could unite behind someone else.

Several writers at TNR have questioned whether “running scared” on climate and the environment is really the best, or only, option. Kate Aronoff sees parallels between the sidelining of the climate crisis at the convention and the sidelining of pro-Palestinian delegates and activists. “Discussing either the climate crisis or Israel’s war on Gaza in any convincing fashion requires specifics,” she wrote. “Who, exactly, is spewing all of those heat-trapping emissions? And who is taking all those innocent Palestinian lives? More importantly, ending all of that suffering—from global warming and war alike—requires a willingness to challenge the forces responsible for it with more than words. The convention showcased a party that isn’t willing to do any of this.” Whatever the “short-term benefits” of avoiding divisive topics, she added, “continuing to avoid them promises not just to prolong suffering, but invite calamities that there’ll be no turning back from.”

Liza Featherstone points out that there could actually be ways to win more voters while talking about the environment. One of RFK Jr.’s “few appealing causes” she wrote, was “his passion for fighting toxic pollution,” particularly as it affects human health. In the wake of his exit from the 2024 election—and baffling endorsement of Donald Trump, whose record on pollution is not at all in keeping with RFK Jr.’s views—the Harris campaign may have an opportunity, Liza wrote, to pull former RFK voters away from Trump while doing the right thing: “RFK Jr.’s concerns with the toxins in our bodies and environment are crucial and have broad popular resonance. Harris should immediately take them on board.”

In general, it’s always a little hard to tell whether the electorate’s ambivalence about a given issue is about the issue itself, or how it’s been presented to them. There’s little doubt at this point that the Inflation Reduction Act—the Biden administration’s signature piece of climate legislation—is a bust in terms of its campaign usefulness, even if it succeeded in its stated goals. But its limitations as a sales pitch were pretty clear from the get-go. After all, if you want a sound bite–able case for how fighting climate change can quickly and materially improve voters’ lives, a law called the “Inflation Reduction Act” that functions in large part via byzantine tax incentives ain’t it.

The Harris campaign is operating on an unprecedentedly compressed timeline, and maybe it’s too late to come up with a climate messaging strategy that defies conventional wisdom by seeking to persuade voters rather than just mirroring current polling. But clearly there are opportunities for such persuasion. A few elections ago, the idea that 62 percent of likely voters would support legal accountability for oil and gas companies over their role driving climate change—and almost half, per a recent Data for Progress poll, would support prosecuting them for homicide—would have been unthinkable. So yes: The Harris campaign may be right that talking about climate change and the environment would lose them Pennsylvania. But it’s also hard to know what American voters might support if their politicians made a compelling pitch.

Good News/Bad News

On the one hand, countries aren’t making anywhere near enough progress toward their emissions-reductions targets. On the other hand, a new study published in the journal Science claims to have found 63 cases where policies really did work to reduce emissions, Grist’s Kate Yoder reports.

Another recent study in Science does not give as much cause for optimism. Fisheries aren’t being managed sustainably, and fish population numbers have been overestimated, a team of ecologists found. “Among over-fished stocks,” the lead author wrote, “we estimated the number of collapsed stocks was likely 85% larger than currently recognised.”

Stat of the Week
$3 million

That’s how much the American Fuel and Petrochemical Manufacturers is paying, Axios reports, for an ad attacking Kamala Harris for her purported “ban on most new gas cars,” targeting voters in the key swing states of Michigan and Pennsylvania, as well as in Wisconsin, Montana, and Nevada.

What I’m Reading

Two states become first in U.S. to ban use of PFAS in firefighters’ protective gear

Long-lasting PFAS chemicals are often used to make fabrics stain- and water-resistant, and for years they’ve been used in firefighters’ equipment in particular. But they’ve also been linked to a wide variety of serious health problems, and evidence has emerged over time that firefighters may be at particular risk given their consistent exposure to the substances. Last week, Massachusetts joined Connecticut in banning firefighting gear sold in the state from containing PFAS, starting in 2027 (Connecticut’s ban will take effect in 2028). The Guardian’s Tom Perkins reports some of the extraordinary efforts that went into lobbying the state for this legislation:

Diane Cotter, the wife of a Worcester fire department firefighter, Paul Cotter, helped spearhead the Massachusetts effort. Paul developed prostate cancer, which is linked to PFAS exposure, about 10 years ago, when he was 55 years old.

Her crusade started in 2019 when she mentioned her husband had prostate cancer at a lunch with other wives of local firefighters.

“Almost every wife at the table lifted up their head and said: ‘Me too,’” Cotter said, noting that most of the women were only 35 to 55 years old. She described herself as “naive” at the time, armed with “only an expired hairdresser’s license” but willing to take on a then unfriendly firefighter union, state government, chemical industry and turnout gear industry.… She was invited to the bill signing last week, a moment she described as “surreal”.

Read Tom Perkins’s full report in The Guardian.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

Beneath the deluge of election news, two remarkable statistics made smaller headlines this past week. First, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration confirmed that last month was the hottest July on record, following the hottest June on record, in what is so far the hottest year on record. Second, the U.S. Energy Information Administration reported that, in the first half of 2024, the U.S. added more electrical generation capacity than they have in two decades: 20.2 gigawatts, with another 42.6 gigawatts planned for the second half of the year.

You might be inclined to interpret this as good news: After all, 59 percent of that new capacity seems to be coming from solar power. But this is being added to what existing plants already generate. Existing plants scheduled for retirement—coal, natural gas—aren’t being phased out as quickly as you might expect. In fact, coal and natural gas plant retirements slowed in this same period, with only about 5.1 gigawatts retired as opposed to 9.2 in the same period last year.

The current electrical generation boom, Bloomberg reports, seems largely to be responding to the increased demand from “data centers and artificial intelligence.”

Liza Featherstone has previously written at TNR about the staggering environmental toll from artificial intelligence, including so-called generative A.I.—you know, the awkward-creepy chatbots that sometimes deliver an eerily coherent answer that’s fit for a fifth grader’s science paper, and other times spit out utter gibberish. (Or the image tool that allowed Donald Trump to claim that Taylor Swift had endorsed him for president. She hadn’t.)

The understandable fixation with the cultural and political consequences of this kind of technology, Liza wrote in March, risks “obscuring the more direct, physical problems with the technology,” like its rapacious water and electrical consumption. The International Energy Agency’s predictions for A.I. energy use by 2026 would be the “equivalent of adding a new heavily industrialized country, like Sweden or Germany, to the planet.” Simultaneously, Liza pointed out, data centers will be sucking up raw materials that are urgently needed for the clean energy transition: like lithium, for example.

As the world was baking this summer, Big Tech was doing its darndest to kill any goodwill people might have for its A.I. projects. In June, Meta notified European users that its privacy policy was changing, allowing the company, in the words of the nonprofit organization that subsequently filed complaints in 11 European countries, “to use years of personal posts, private images or online tracking data for an undefined ‘AI technology’ that can ingest personal data from any source and share any information with undefined ‘third parties’” with “no option of ever having it removed.” (Meta has been training A.I. on U.S. users’ public posts for a while now.)

Microsoft A.I. CEO Mustafa Suleyman then did one better. In an interview later that month, he insisted that anything on the “open web” was fair game, counting as “freeware”—a statement many understandably found exploitative and hypocritical.

During the Olympics, Google ran a dystopian ad in which a father, instead of helping his track-and-field-obsessed daughter compose her own fan letter to her Olympic hero, had Google’s generative A.I. tool, Gemini, “help” her instead. Viewers found it distasteful, and Google pulled the ad.

And it almost goes without saying that Elon Musk’s A.I. venture, Grok-2, was a bust: Mere weeks ago, lacking appropriate content controls, it quickly flooded the social media site now known as X with violent and sexual images of Disney and other copyrighted cartoon characters.

So here we are, in a record-hot summer in a record-hot year, with coal plants being kept online in part to meet the increased demand from bumbling A.I. technology. It would be one thing if that demand were coming from, say, the sudden adoption of electric vehicles by tens of millions of Americans. It’s another thing entirely if the energy transition were to be slowed by Big Tech stealing people’s personal life updates or generating graphic images of Goofy.

Good News/Bad News

A federal judge ruled that the National Marine Fisheries Service during the Trump administration did not properly account for the risks from oil spills to endangered species in the Gulf of Mexico, and that the federal government has to do more to protect marine life from offshore drilling.


Akielly Hu at Grist reviews the many signs that the Supreme Court’s overturning of the Chevron doctrine is already starting to slow or reverse the implementation of climate and environmental policies, such as the U.S. Air Force now saying they now can’t be required to clean up the drinking water they contaminated with PFAS.

Stat of the Week
1.6 degrees Celsius

Limiting warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 degrees Fahrenheit) above preindustrial levels—for years considered a vital goal for avoiding climate-related disasters—is going to be very, very hard, a new study says; the new best-case scenario may be 1.6 degrees.

What I’m Reading

Here’s how much cropland could be freed up if Americans ate half as much meat

TNR has run lots of pieces on the environmental cost of meat consumption. But a new study shows that cutting meat consumption by half might free up land that altogether would be about the size of South Dakota:

The organization argues that if those acres weren’t used to grow crops, they could instead be transformed into carbon sinks or used to restore threatened ecosystems. That would deliver climate benefits on top of the reduction of animal agriculture’s more direct emissions sources: manure and cow burps.

The U.S. currently devotes a tremendous amount of land to agriculture: Over 60 percent of land in the contiguous U.S. is used for agriculture, and 21 percent of that is cropland. A majority of the nation’s cropland—78 percent—is used to raise crops that are primarily used to feed animals.

Read Frida Garza’s full report at Grist.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.

Shortly after the Iowa caucuses—a moment that feels almost unfathomably long ago in this presidential race—Tom Philpott wrote about the peculiar role that corn-based ethanol plays in national politics. Because ethanol is important to Iowa, and the Iowa caucuses are important in the primaries because of their early date, candidates from both parties tend to declare their allegiance to federal ethanol subsidies.

But ethanol subsidies are a pretty inefficient way to encourage energy production. Solar panels generate 100 times as much energy as corn per acre, Tom wrote. Installing them in place of cornfields would open up more land for growing actual food, while reducing pesticide and fertilizer runoff into waterways and reducing the destruction of Iowa’s soil layer. But the tangled history of Iowa corn, federal subsidies, and the primary schedule go back so far at this point that it’s very hard to start a serious political discussion about what better policies might look like.

I thought back to Tom’s piece this week, as news emerged that Kamala Harris was walking back her prior opposition to fracking. As California attorney general, she sued the Obama administration over its fracking approvals off the state’s coast, and in the 2019 Democratic primaries she promised to ban the practice, but her campaign is now telling the press that she would not in fact ban it.

Fracking is somewhat similar to ethanol, actually, in terms of its place in American political narratives. Fracking pollutes groundwater, has fueled a huge spike of planet-warming methane, and isn’t very profitable: The expensive practice is a “sorry bet for job creation,” TNR’s Kate Aronoff wrote in 2019. But much like ethanol in Iowa, for almost two decades fracking has played an outsize role in states that play an outsize role in the presidential election—specifically, Ohio and Pennsylvania.

Ohio, which Trump has twice won comfortably, probably won’t decide the 2024 election. Pennsylvania, on the other hand, very well might. “Many strategists in both parties believe Pennsylvania and its 19 electoral votes could wind up being the decisive state,” Axios reported in May. And so far, the polling in Pennsylvania has suggested the race is neck and neck. So it’s not particularly surprising that Harris is backpedaling on her fracking opposition, presumably aiming to win Pennsylvania voters.

As with ethanol, though, there’s something a bit tragic about this political pandering. While Pennsylvanians are the ones Harris hopes to win by backing fracking, they’re also the people most likely to be harmed by fracking. As Colin Jerolmack has repeatedly written for TNR, even landowners who have made money leasing their land to drillers have sometimes come to regret it—either because they regret losing control over their own properties or because of the effect on local groundwater. (In one community, he wrote, “private water wells became laced with carcinogenic chemicals and contained methane concentrations so high that running faucets could be set on fire.”) Grist’s Jake Bolster reported last week on the industry’s troubling habit of dumping fracked wastewater—which has been found to contain toxic compounds—on Pennsylvania roads, with the cooperation of some state authorities. As of 2021, the last time a major poll was conducted, not only did a majority of Pennsylvanians want to see more regulation of the fracking industry, but a majority actually wanted to “end” fracking in the state (25 percent wanted it done “as soon as possible,” and 30 percent favored a gradual transition).

So why is Harris reversing her position on fracking if Pennsylvanians want it gone? One reason may be that many of the voters who oppose fracking (for example: the 79 percent of Democrats who want fracking to end) will vote for her either way. The people the party is anxious about winning, on the other hand, might be the ones who’d be turned off by a proposed ban. For example, 43 percent of independents in the 2021 poll said fracking should not end or be phased out.

At the end of the day, ethanol and fracking—which defy any rational cost-benefit calculation—persist for the same reason: American democracy isn’t particularly democratic.

Good News/Bad News

There’s a growing consensus that carbon capture doesn’t work very well—and, per Amy Westervelt’s analysis of internal documents, that fossil fuel companies probably knew that to begin with. That’s bad news in one sense, but the growing consensus also builds the foundation for better ideas and policies going forward.


Wildfires like the Park Fire now threatening four counties in California can also contaminate the water supply beyond the immediate burn range in several ways. A new multimedia report in The Washington Postexplains how.

Stat of the Week
73%

That’s how much of the world’s coral is now bleaching due to heat, according to The Guardian’s latest report on the ongoing mass bleaching event.

What I’m Reading

Do bigger highways actually help reduce traffic?

The answer is “no.” MIT Mobility Initiative fellow David Zipper explains why widening highways doesn’t solve the problem these proposals are hoping to solve:

These projections have a fatal blind spot: They fail to consider how humans respond to changing conditions like new vehicle lanes. When people see cars traveling freely over a recently expanded highway, they will recalibrate their travel decisions. Some will choose to drive at rush hour when they would have otherwise driven at a non-peak time, taken public transit, or perhaps not traveled at all. When a roadway is widened, Marshall said, “You might have less congestion at first, but it quickly goes away.”

Such behavioral adjustments will continue until traffic is as thick as it was before, when the roadway was narrower. The only difference is now there will be more cars stuck in traffic, emitting even more pollution.

This phenomenon is known as induced demand.

Read David Zipper’s full story at Vox.

This article first appeared in Life in a Warming World, a weekly TNR newsletter authored by deputy editor Heather Souvaine Horn. Sign up here.