The exchange is one of many moves by the Trump administration to privatize public land and roll back climate and environmental protections. In just six months the White House has announced plans to shrink iconic national monuments, reopened oil and gas leasing, rescinded watershed protections to pave the way for mining, and opened millions of acres of national forest to logging. These decisions have been joined by a broader dismantling of climate and environmental regulations, including efforts to eliminate the Environmental Protection Agency’s ability to curb greenhouse gases. 

Even as he continued upending how the country’s natural resources are managed, President Trump signed an executive order vowing to “Make America Beautiful Again.” His directive, issued July 3, called for balancing environmental stewardship with economic growth, and established a commission to “advise and assist the President regarding how best to responsibly conserve America’s national treasures and natural resources.” It is unclear what policies this commission might develop or how much authority it will hold. 

Benji Backer, a 27-year-old conservative conservationist, hopes to influence some of those details. He has built a national platform around the idea that caring about the environment and climate change is a bipartisan issue. After founding the non-profit American Conservation Coalition, or ACC, eight years ago, Backer launched Nature is Nonpartisan this spring. While ACC was “strictly meant for conservatives, by conservatives,” he sees the new organization transcending partisanship, pursuing environmental action regardless of who holds political power. “If there’s a future for our environment, there has to be a center voice that’s willing to call balls and strikes, and not care about who they could potentially piss off,” he said.

The group’s board includes notable conservative figures like David Bernhardt, a lawyer who served as interior secretary during the first Trump administration and was investigated for failing to recuse himself from decisions affecting Halliburton, a former client. He now consults for oil and gas firms. Other advisors include Chris LaCivita Jr., a political consultant and son of the president’s 2024 campaign manager, as well as more centrist figures like Van Jones and David Livingston. 

Shortly after the president took office Backer delivered a draft order to the White House containing a list of policy goals he’d developed in consultation with groups like Ducks Unlimited and the National Wildlife Federation. These included goals like restoring forests and combating plastic pollution. Though the final order, announced at the Iowa State Fair, does not explicitly mention climate change, Backer says it helps the EPA administrator and Interior Secretary “move in the right direction.” Based on his conversations with them, Backer says, “They’ve been focused on cutting. It’s my hope that they start building soon.”

Though the Trump administration’s revisions substantially altered the order, Backer was quick to celebrate it. “Working with the White House on this EO for the past six months has been an honor,” he posted on X shortly after Trump signed the document. “This is an incredible step that will leave a positive mark for our environment for generations!”

Backer’s optimistic tone marks a shift from a letter he co-signed with nine other Republican leaders in December, stating that Trump’s win “raises serious questions about both the durability of recent climate gains and the prospects for future progress.” At that time, the coalition statement focused on the election of climate-engaged Republicans like Reps. John Curtis and Marianette Miller-Meeks, both members of the Conservative Climate Caucus. Like many liberal organizations preparing for a Trump administration, the letter also discussed shifting focus to state and local climate action. 

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Lobbying efforts by the American Conservation Coalition and its advocacy arm have met mixed success with the Trump administration. They appear to have spent $2.65 million trying to preserve key parts of the Inflation Reduction Act, particularly clean energy tax credits. “The tax credits empower the private sector to invest in clean, reliable energy,” Danielle Franz, ACC’s chief executive officer, told Grist, “It’s important to use our resources to reward innovation, and to have those free market or market-based incentives.” She added that the document Grist obtained that outlines the lobbying effort was a “leaked, outdated draft that was never finalized or published,” and “appears to conflate” ACC and its advocacy group’s work.” Those efforts ultimately failed: The reconciliation bill made significant cuts to clean energy policy, effectively halting federal incentives for wind, solar, and other renewable energy projects. The bill did retain some support for nuclear and geothermal power. Franz declined to criticize the decision or discuss specific energy policies, saying “in any bill you’re going to have give and take.” 

The budget bill debate also demonstrated how effective conservative voices can be in shaping environmental policy. When Utah Republican Senator Mike Lee proposed requiring the sale of millions of acres of federal land, it sparked swift and broad backlash, including from hunters, anglers, and right-leaning influencers like Joe Rogan. After widespread conservative criticism, Lee scaled back the bill, then withdrew it — underscoring the significant influence GOP conservation groups like ACC can have in determining environmental policy. 

It was, Backer says, “a perfect example of what is possible. It basically just allowed us to go out there and show that millions of Americans are willing to stand together for the same environmental outcome.” He hopes to build on that momentum with practical goals: Nature Is Nonpartisan is developing a short list of priorities he believes are politically feasible, including providing more funding for easing water pollution, reforming the Endangered Species Act, and tackling the backlog of maintenance in the nation’s 63 National Parks. (His list made no mention of climate change.) To garner support, Backer recently organized a coalition meeting of conservation groups, including right-leaning organizations like American Forests and Safari Club International, as well as more liberal conservation groups like The Nature Conservancy. 

It’s part of a broader effort to tap into what he and others see as a growing awareness among conservatives. As Franz puts it, if you asked most conservatives if “climate change is real, they would say yes.” She points out conservation has deep roots in the Republican party, from Teddy Roosevelt championing the creation of national parks to Ronald Reagan approving the Montreal Protocol to address the ozone hole. 

Public opinion has shifted sharply since then, however. According to a 2024 Gallup poll, only 11 percent of Republicans consider climate change a great personal threat, down from 29 percent a decade ago. A Pew Research Center survey reveals that while a majority of Republicans support concrete policies like expanding solar farms and joining international climate agreements, only 12 percent say climate change should be a top national priority — underscoring how political polarization shapes broader attitudes. Though there may be pragmatic support for specific policies, Republicans still consistently prioritize consumer costs, and fossil fuels over renewable energy. “Most conservatives understand the issue,” Franz says. “They’re just tired of the moralism and want solutions aligned with their values.”

In the past, ACC has advocated for streamlining permitting and boosting nuclear energy, promoting an “all‑of‑the‑above” strategy that includes renewables. Franz says ACC is happy with Trump’s “energy abundance” strategy, arguing that traditional energy produced in the United States has “a net reduction for global emissions” because “American-made fossil fuels are cleaner than some other countries.” 

The data tell a different story. The International Energy Agency has been unequivocal: To stay within global climate goals, no new fossil fuel development can move forward. Studies show U.S. methane emissions are severely undercounted, especially from shale gas fields, and claims of American fossil fuels being cleaner obscure the urgent need to shift away from them altogether. “Look, I’m not here to defend what Trump’s done on the environment over the last six months,” Backer said. “This is not a black or white thing. This is a four year administration, and we’re trying to shift them in the direction towards conservation as much as we possibly can.” 

But hoping for a gradual course correction is at odds with the urgency of the crisis and the need for swift action, said Christine Todd Whitman, the former Republican governor of New Jersey who led the EPA under President George W. Bush. She is upset by the Trump administration’s dismantling of that agency, saying the president “has no respect for science.”

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In the absence of climate leadership from Washington, Whitman said states will have to step up with their own agreements, like the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative, a coalition of 11 eastern states that aims to limit and reduce  emissions from the power sector. Although each of those states is currently led by a Democrat, several of them have had Republican governors since the coalition’s inception in 2005. “There are Republicans that really care about the environment and are doing work,” Whitman said. But while she agrees bipartisan advocacy is essential, she says there’s a clear disconnect between the rhetoric in Make America Beautiful Again and the administration’s policies. “You’ve got to watch what they’re doing, not just what they’re saying,” she added. The gap, she said, “is pretty stark.”

Still, Franz is optimistic about building conservative consensus around a sustainable future. “Our message to conservatives is that this country is worth protecting,” she says. 

In its first six months, the Trump administration has aggressively expanded oil and gas leasing, rolled back critical environmental regulations, and weakened methane emissions, reversing previous conservation protections and U.S. progress on global climate commitments. Asked about these policies, Franz said, “I think oftentimes these pieces want to relitigate and relitigate and relitigate the past, instead of talking about the future that conservatives see.”

Franz and Backer see themselves as guardians of a tradition that protects a natural heritage alongside economic freedom. They don’t see a gulf between a livable future and the reality unfolding in Washington — a White House that praises abundance while leasing away the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge; an administration that talks about stewardship while gutting the laws that made it possible. 

Franz recently became a parent, an experience that’s deepened her commitment to her work. She wants her four-month-old son to grow up seeing the north woods of Minnesota the way she did — deer tracks in the snow, the bite of a November wind, the smell of rifle oil. Franz talks about caring about outcomes, not performative belief tests, how conservatives are tired of virtue signaling, and focusing on solutions. She doesn’t see a tension between supporting oil and gas and promoting conservation at the same time. “It assumes a binary choice between use and between care, and I think that we can do both.”

Whether that’s true is no longer just an ideological debate. It’s a matter of time. As Franz says, “It’s not really a question of, ‘Do you believe in climate change?” anymore. It’s more a question of, ‘What do you want to do about it?’

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Can protecting nature be nonpartisan? on Aug 1, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Lois Parshley.

Kerr County’s emergency management coordinator, William B. Thomas IV, spoke publicly for the first time at the hearing, noting that he was sick on July 3, the day before the floods, and had informed supervisors that he wouldn’t be able to participate in coordination meetings. He slept through most of the day and learned of the devastating floods the morning of July 4 when his wife woke him up at 5:30 am. Thomas then went on to reflect on what he could have done differently. 

“The honest answer is that based on the data we had at the time, there was no clear indicator that a catastrophic flood was imminent,” he said, noting that forecasts from the National Weather Service the day before had not been materially different from previous forecasts that had not resulted in flooding.

More significantly, perhaps, the day’s torrential rain had fallen in locations where limited data could be gathered from the half dozen flood gauges along the Guadalupe River. Those gauges provide critical data for monitoring river flows and, during floods, can provide advance warning that can save lives. But the U.S. has a shortage of such gauges, particularly in rural, tribal, and low-income communities. While the U.S. Geological Survey maintains a nationwide network of more than 12,000 gauges in partnership with local agencies, persistent funding shortfalls have limited their maintenance and operation. As of October 2024, more than 4,750 locations met the criteria for inclusion in the network — but only about 3,400 gauges are active due to budget constraints.  

“We need real-time monitoring of rainfall and river gauges, especially in upstream headwaters and watershed zones,” Thomas told lawmakers. “We cannot rely solely on radar or traditional forecasting from the National Weather Service. We need systems that detect what’s happening on the ground minute by minute.”

More gauges may have helped save lives on July 4. Between 2 am and 5 am, the heaviest rain fell on the south fork of the river before it converged with the north fork by the town of Hunt. 

“If there had been more gauges up closer to where the rain started and where the flood started, where those two forks were coming together, that would have been helpful,” said James Goss-Dollin, an assistant professor of civil and environmental engineering at Rice University. “We want to have as many [gauges] as possible so you can see where the water is and how fast it is coming towards you. There’s a huge need to better monitor rivers.”

At the Thursday hearing, residents shared their accounts braving the floods, as well as their experiences of the recovery process so far. An army of volunteers descended on Kerr County and neighboring areas in the first few weeks after the floods, but as national interest fades, residents are beginning to grapple with the reality of rebuilding. Many have turned to the Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, for help. The agency offers financial aid to help survivors recover in the wake of disasters. Those funds can cover rent for temporary housing, trailers for those whose homes are uninhabitable, and assistance to cover the cost of funerals.

A new analysis by Texas Appleseed, a nonprofit that advocates for fair housing and post-disaster recovery, shows that FEMA has conducted more than 3,100 inspections of Central Texas homes affected by flooding since July 4 — and rejected more than 1,100 of those applications. Among those approved, funding levels have been modest. The agency has provided an average of roughly $8,600 in assistance to repair homes and $34,000 to those who have to rebuild homes entirely, as of July 26. Despite the modest totals, the aid appears to be in line with that provided during previous disasters.

“Low acceptance rates are not uncommon after any given storm,” said Meg Duffy, a senior policy analyst at Texas Appleseed and one of the researchers who conducted the analysis. “Part of that reflects the difficulty involved in applying for FEMA assistance.”

FEMA assistance was never meant to make disaster survivors financially whole again. Instead, FEMA aid is intended to supplement insurance, loans, state and local assistance, and personal savings. The agency’s grants are capped for the current fiscal year at a maximum of $87,200 per grantee for home repairs and other essential needs.

But most residents in rural Central Texas don’t have flood insurance. (Flood damages are not covered by standard homeowner’s insurance.) In Kerr County, a little more than 2 percent of residents have flood coverage. In fact, Duffy’s research found that about three-fourths of local FEMA applicants didn’t have any home insurance at all. It also found that about two-thirds of those applicants made less than $60,000 a year. 

A number of bureaucratic and logistical hurdles can slow down how quickly aid is distributed. If an applicant has insurance, FEMA requires that they first secure documentation from the insurance company stating how much it is willing to cover. That process can sometimes take weeks, if not months. The agency also tries to meet with individual homeowners to inspect their homes and verify ownership before granting aid. If a resident does not have transportation to meet with FEMA personnel or is unable to secure documentation to prove ownership — because, say, the paperwork has washed away in a flood — the agency will deny applications. In those cases, residents can appeal and provide the missing information, but that can take weeks or months to process. Speeding up that timeline is a key improvement that FEMA should make, according to Duffy.

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Texas lawmakers grill Kerr County officials as flood recovery plods on on Aug 1, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Naveena Sadasivam.

Climate-driven calamities are becoming more frequent and severe, as shown by last month’s devastating floods in Texas. Twenty-eight disasters nationwide caused $93 billion in damage in 2023 — a price tag the country has exceeded in the first half of 2025. Yet more than 70% of Americans lack a detailed safety plan. 

A study published last month in Public Health Reports provides some insight into who those people are. Researchers surveyed nearly 3,000 adults in the United States and found that those who previously experienced a natural disaster were more likely to have emergency supplies and evacuation plans in place. Men and those with jobs more often said they were prepared, while women and unemployed people often were not. Importantly, adults over 55 were 63% more likely to say they knew how to stay safe and access emergency information. 

That finding was striking in part because older adults often comprise the majority of victims when disasters hit, said Lori Peek, director of the Natural Hazards Center at the University of Colorado-Boulder. “Older adults are saying they know what to do, they understand what to do. But then there’s an additional body of research on specific disaster events showing the older adults are actually, in many ways, the ones most at risk to death, injury and other forms of harm,” she said. 

The study also found political affiliation plays a role in how someone might respond in a crisis, with Democrats expressing greater confidence in their ability to access emergency information. “This raises questions about whether this finding relates more to a lack of knowledge or to a lack of trust in information sources, and we encourage future research on this given its implications for messaging in disaster preparedness and response efforts,” said Christine Crudo Blackburn, the lead author of the study conducted by Texas A&M University.

People who have experienced a disaster were more than three times as likely to have an evacuation plan, and more than twice as likely to have an emergency kit. That preparedness might not extend to those who narrowly avoid being hit by, say, a hurricane, said Jennifer Horney, a disaster epidemiologist at the University of Delaware. She calls this the false expectations paradox: If someone is told to evacuate, and then the hurricane doesn’t come, they’re more likely to ignore official warnings next time. 

“There’s been a good bit of research on people trusting messages from friends and family over authorities,” she said. “So in terms of making an evacuation decision, people will end up doing what their friends and neighbors are doing,” Horney said. During Hurricane Harvey, people trusted their neighborhood Facebook groups – but didn’t necessarily heed government warnings, she said. 

Blackburn’s findings raise urgent questions about how local authorities, public health officials, and federal agencies can more effectively communicate and build trust, particularly among populations that are less likely to prepare. Individual readiness only goes so far without governmental or agency intervention. “These intense storms require agency and organizational and governmental preparedness,” Horney said. “It’s not just one person or one family.” 

The challenge is, the agencies doing that work tend to be underfunded, with high turnover, said Samantha Montano, an associate professor of emergency management at Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Her book Disasterology chronicles the nation’s inadequate preparation for climate disasters. “Most local emergency management agencies, if they’re doing preparedness, are doing things like posting information about how to make an emergency kit on their website. Maybe they’re handing out flyers or pamphlets at a local farmer’s market. If you’re lucky, they’re partnered with the local schools and send something home in the mail with the kids.”

Still, local emergency managers understand they aren’t reaching everyone, said David Abramson, who studies disaster response at New York University’s School of Global Public Health. “They know that they’ve got to figure out ways to reach people, and I think in the past, the answer has been using their networks of community based providers to reach out to particularly vulnerable groups and populations,” he said. 

One way they might bridge the political divide is by enlisting local Republican party officials to assist in reaching their own community, he said. Such thinking, and data from studies like the one Blackburn led, can lead to other effective solutions — like working on disaster preparedness in schools, or engaging other community groups.  

“My hope is that our data can be useful to the people on the ground who are helping communities and individuals prepare for disasters,” said Blackburn. “By understanding how individuals prepare, we can actually tailor policies to the needs of people.

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Floods, fires and false confidence: America’s disaster problem is personal on Aug 1, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Sophie Hurwitz.

So, on June 17, when the USDA announced the end of $148.6 million in funding awarded by prior administrations to projects geared toward DEI, the move appeared in lockstep with the president’s priorities. The notice itself, for example, was titled “Secretary Rollins Takes Bold Action to Put American Farmers First, Cuts Millions in Woke DEI Funding.” 

The press release said that “more than 145” awards would be cancelled, and it gave three anonymized examples of such projects. There was a $575,251 project “educating and engaging socially disadvantaged farmers on conservation practices”; a $192,246 project for “creating a new model for urban forestry to lead to environmental justice through more equitably distributed green spaces”; and a $2.5 million award for a project “expanding equitable access to land, capital, and market opportunities for underserved producers in the Bay Area.” 

It all seemed like standard fare under the new administration — except that the USDA neither specified what awards it was scrubbing, nor did it follow the news with direct notifications to those affected. 

More than a month later, no one yet seems to know whether, or to what extent, the $148 million in grants has actually been cancelled. The scraps of information provided in the release have since been mined many times over by everyone from grantees to lawmakers. This fiscal year, the USDA had a total budget of $493.9 billion, of which $144.4 billion funded award obligations. That means the $148 million represents roughly 0.001 percent of what the agency planned to spend on awards. And yet, experts say, the missing money mystery indicates a new chapter in the USDA’s playbook — and it’s harming farmers and ranchers, and those that support them, across the country. 

“I just continue to think that they are motivated by the politics of saying that they cancelled a DEI-related program, and they’re not motivated by conducting thoughtful policy changes or updates, and they don’t seem to really be concerned about who’s on the other end of that policy change, and what the impact would be,” said Michael Amato, who was the USDA Communications Director during the Biden administration.

For those organizations that suspect their projects could be on the chopping block, the move is perplexing. When the team at the California-based organization Agroecology Commons saw the USDA press release, they presumed that the $2.5 million grant had to be theirs. Roughly two years beforehand, they had been awarded that very same amount through the USDA’s Increasing Land, Capital, and Market Access Program to identify, purchase, and help develop land for up to ten “BIPOC, LGBTQIA, and landless farmers” in the Bay Area. 

The nonprofit had already come to feel targeted under the new administration. They had confronted the elimination of another USDA award back in March. In June, less than two weeks before the $148 million cancellation news was shared, the organization joined two other plaintiffs in filing a lawsuit against the USDA for what they believe were unlawful grant terminations. And, according to director of partnerships Leah Atwood, they were “put on blast on the Secretary of Ag’s Instagram,” when Brooke Rollins announced the end of the group’s Community Food Projects grant in a social media video.

“All signs pointed to ‘that’s gonna be us,’” said Atwood. The revelation was nonetheless “a big blow” to her team. In response to the USDA’s announcement, they started to halt the work they were doing that was supported by the federal funds, in case they wouldn’t be able to invoice for reimbursements later. As the days and weeks passed, the team got more and more bewildered when no official termination notice hit their inbox. 

Until last Tuesday, when a cancellation notice finally dropped — just not the one that they were expecting. 

On July 22, more than a month following the agency’s initial termination announcement, the team finally received an email from the USDA, shared with Grist, which informed them of the end of their Beginning Farmer and Rancher Development Program grant, or BFRDP, amounting to nearly $600,000 that they were awarded back in 2021. First authorized by the farm bill more than two decades ago, the program provides grants to organizations in support of education, mentoring, and technical assistance for new agricultural producers. The letter stated that “the Secretary of Agriculture has determined, per the Department’s obligations to the Constitution and laws of the United States, that priority includes ensuring that the Department’s awards do not support programs that promote or take part in diversity, equity, and inclusion (“DEI”) initiatives, or any other initiatives that discriminate on the basis of immutable characteristics.” 

Though she isn’t sure, Atwood believes that Agroecology Commons’ BFRDP grant cancellation must be one of the 145 or so that the USDA says it has identified for elimination. She also believes that the notice for the bigger grant is still on the horizon, and has expressed concern over two other USDA grants of theirs that have an explicit DEI-focus. As of the time of this article’s publication, the Agroecology Commons team still has not received an official cancellation notice for the $2.5 million from the federal agency. 

“We’ve been in this constant state of evaluation and reevaluation and downsizing and streamlining and consolidating, and it’s impossible to do that in a clear, straightforward way when we don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “It’s just a juggling act of, like, plugging leaks and dodging waves.” 

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The USDA has not responded to multiple inquiries from Grist sent over the last month requesting clarity on the full list of awards included in last month’s press release, why those affected had not been issued official notices, and the criteria being used in these funding eliminations. What’s more, it isn’t clear whether the recent rescission of BFRDP grants account for any part of the $148 million, or belong to an entirely new crop of cancellations. 

Grist reporting has revealed that at least three other recipients of BFRDP grants were also issued official USDA termination notices in the last week. They are the only series of DEI-adjacent grants from the USDA that have been confirmed as cancelled since the agency’s June announcement. Like Atwood, those other grantees believe the dissolution of their federal support falls within the 145 or so awards that the USDA declared. One such group is the Rhode Island Food Policy Council.

The end of the BFRDP grant didn’t come as much of a surprise to its executive director Nessa Richman. In fact, when she saw the USDA’s announcement about the $148 million funding pot, Richman had a “sinking feeling” that her group’s grant was over. Right before the USDA made the announcement, Richman noticed that their BFRDP money was suddenly unfrozen — an experience that the Food Policy Council went through when the Trump administration pulled another of their grants — before it was terminated.

When it finally arrived, the USDA’s letter singled out the Food Policy Council’s focus on DEI as the rationale for the cancellation. “Specifically, the project is targeted at beginning farmers and ranchers from Rhode Island communities defined by their immutable characteristics,” the letter said. “The award is therefore inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, Department priorities.” 

But what surprised Richman was the way the USDA presented the news. “Normally, in a USDA announcement like that, when it’s about grant awards, in the past there’s been a link to a list of all of the grantees,” said Richman. “And it was confusing that there wasn’t one.” So she called around to see if anyone in her network had been able to find a list buried on a federal website somewhere. No one had. No one knew what programs were on that list of “more than 145.”

“My guess was that the work had been done internally at USDA to identify the grants, because it was a very specific number, but that they hadn’t done the administrative work to move forward and send out notices of termination,” said Richman. “At this point, it probably took them longer than they thought to get all of the administrative pieces in place. Why else would it take them longer?” 

A Grist analysis of a USDA National Institute of Food and Agriculture reporting portal shows that since 2009, roughly 13 percent of all BFRDP awards have been DEI-related, and just 21 are active projects. If the USDA terminates all of the BFRDP awards with equity-associated keywords, that leaves at least 124 other grants facing potentially imminent elimination following the agency’s effort to cut “Woke DEI Funding.” 

Vanessa García Polanco, government relations director at National Young Farmers Coalition, is worried about the future of the other equity-related awards. “So how are they picking and choosing these grants? Is it just the ones that have equity in the title? Do they have some equity outcomes? Or is it just literally strategic? Is there an equation, an algorithm behind it? We really don’t know,” said García Polanco. “Everything feels extremely haphazard and inconsistent.”  

The federal agency’s silence has prompted urgent calls for transparency from some members of Congress. Last Tuesday, on the same day that BFRDP letters began landing in inboxes, a cohort of nine Democratic senators sent an official congressional oversight letter to Rollins, urging her to provide the missing information, including “a complete list of awards that USDA intends to terminate, including information about awardees, programs, funding amounts, and locations.” The letter also asked for further details “on why these awards intend to be cancelled, as well as the legal basis for cancelling the awards, and if the funds are being repurposed, for what they will be repurposed.” 

“It’s created more uncertainty, in a sea of uncertainty,” said Mike Lavender, policy director at the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition. “I don’t know how it wouldn’t have a chilling effect.” 

According to a former senior USDA official, who spoke to Grist on the condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation, the precedents of how the agency chooses to operate — and communicate — are changing so quickly and radically that it’s creating an environment of fear for the nation’s farmers and ranchers who could rely on federal government funds before Trump took office.

“People are just scared right now because they keep hearing the threat of these things, and they haven’t been notified. So ‘Do I continue to do work? Do I not continue to do work?’ The uncertainty is what’s getting people right now,” the official said. “You hear that from these grantees, as well as [USDA] employees, it’s hard to get people to talk about it, because they don’t know, from day to day, whether they’re going to be targeted. 

If they say anything, I think most folks are going on record anonymously because they’re in fear, because you really don’t know what’s next. And if you get out there on a limb, it might get sawed off behind you.”

Clayton Aldern contributed data reporting.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The USDA announced the cancellation of $148 million in ‘woke’ grants. Then it went dark. on Jul 31, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Ayurella Horn-Muller.

Set in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, “Eddington,” directed by Ari Aster, blends elements of horror, Westerns, and satire that explore how we process such an earth-shattering event half a decade later. But its subplot about the development of a massive data center nearby explores just how this volatile landscape became profitable for tech corporations, while engaging with contemporary vignettes of Native life where Indigenous communities exist along the border, haunting the town’s history and politics.

In the film, the mayor of the town of Eddington, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), plays high-powered politics to the best of his ability in a small town, including cozying up to the shadowy tech company SolidGoldMagiKarp. The company has proposed a “Hyperscale Data Center Development” and Mayor Garcia touts the idea as a boon to the local economy, creating jobs. Sheriff Cross, however, sees it differently. To him, the world and its mask mandates have infringed on his town and life. As a result, he decides to run against Garcia for Mayor. 

From here, the action is set in motion. Defying masking orders is used for social media points, while young, mostly white activists, engage in online activism by invoking the Navajo Long Walk and calling out stolen land–talking points that operate more as currency than a genuine desire to engage with their Pueblo neighbors. Eddington, at its heart, is a Western. Like other Westerns, it evokes a moment of discovery and unleashes it on the viewing public. John Ford Westerns locate the founding mythologies of what animates American identity among red buttes and stagecoaches. Even in Twin Peaks, David Lynch’s revelatory vision of the first atomic bomb detonated in the New Mexico desert offers a view of evil’s origins. In “Eddington,” alienation drives the narrative, framed through social media, Zoom meetings, and the tech infrastructure pushing the community apart in every way possible.

That infrastructure, of course, exists off screen and in our lives. Earlier this month in southern Arizona, nearly 1,000 people in Tucson turned out to a city council meeting after local reporters revealed that officials had secretly planned an Amazon Web Services facility in their community. At a public meeting, angry residents cited that the city’s pattern of droughts would not meet the data center’s surging water needs. In Tennessee, residents in a South Memphis neighborhood have reported breathing problems due to nitrogen oxide emissions from burning fossil fuels used to power Elon Musk’s xAI’s servers, to run Grok, X’s resident chatbot.

Because of the speed of AI data center development, tribes have only begun to grapple with this trend and threats to water, land, and energy capacity. The Tonawanda Seneca Nation filed a lawsuit against the construction of a data center in upstate New York earlier this month, arguing the site would impede treaty rights, including hunting and gathering. Last year, the Arizona Corporation Commission, a utility regulator, approved an 8% rate hike to meet the energy demands brought on by the state’s rising number of data centers. In a separate measure, the Commission rejected a package to expand electricity to residents on the Navajo Nation, where nearly 13,000 households lack access.    

“As these data centers are moving into their communities, people are starting to realize that there are huge physical manifestations to all of this artificial intelligence and all of this computing that we’ve come to just kind of accept in our daily lives,” said Deborah Kapiloff, a policy advisor at the Western Resource Advocates. “There is going to start being a lot more pushback from communities as they understand what this means for them in terms of changes to their communities and these data centers siting there.” 

At the end of the film, there’s an opening ceremony of the center. In the corner, next to Phoenix’s character who is now physically incapacitated, is also a Santa Lupe Pueblo leader, symbolically incapacitated. It’s revealed that the state has invested millions of dollars into clean energy projects on their land and are praised for their partnership and participation with the data center. It’s unclear if the endeavors were driven by the Pueblo, or what kind of say the nation had in the deal. As the credits roll, the center glows against the dusky blue land, almost breathing.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Data centers, drought, and dispossession: The real nightmares in Ari Aster’s ‘Eddington’ on Jul 31, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Miacel Spotted Elk.

On Tuesday, President Donald Trump’s EPA took a major step toward changing that. At a truck dealership in Indianapolis, EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin announced a formal proposal to repeal the endangerment finding, which has been in the works since the beginning of Trump’s second presidency. At the same time, Zeldin announced a plan to repeal all federal greenhouse gas emissions regulations for motor vehicles. “If finalized, today’s announcement would amount to the largest deregulatory action in the history of the United States,” he said at the press conference.

Zeldin accused his predecessors at the EPA of making “many, many, many mental leaps” in the 2009 declaration, and he argued that the “real threat” to people’s livelihoods is not carbon dioxide but instead the regulations themselves, which he claimed lead to higher prices and restrict people’s choices.

If the EPA succeeds in reversing the endangerment finding, it would “eviscerate the biggest regulatory tool the federal government has” to keep climate change in check, said Ann Carlson, an environmental law professor at the University of California, Los Angeles.

Republicans in Congress have already repealed much of former President Joe Biden’s landmark climate law, which aimed to put the U.S. within reach of its Paris Agreement targets primarily by funneling money to renewable energy sources. Rescinding the endangerment finding targets the other main tool the U.S. government can use to address climate change: the executive branch’s power to limit emissions through regulatory action. In other words, Republicans have already eliminated many of the federal government’s proverbial climate carrots — now they’re going after the sticks. 

“We will not have a serious national climate policy if this goes through,” said Patrick Parenteau, an emeritus professor of climate policy and environmental law at Vermont Law School.

But that’s a big “if.” Experts say that the EPA’s plan is bound to be embroiled in years of lawsuits, perhaps one day making its way to the Supreme Court, which blessed the EPA’s authority to regulate greenhouse gases in 2007 and declined to hear a challenge to the endangerment finding as recently as December 2023. And even if the EPA does manage to overturn the endangerment finding after all court challenges have been exhausted, it would result in sweeping consequences — including some that the administration’s allies in the oil industry may not like. Indeed, the risk is serious enough that some fossil fuel industry groups have urged the Trump administration not to repeal the finding.

The tussle over the endangerment finding stems from differing interpretations of the Clean Air Act. When Congress expanded the law in 1970, it tasked the EPA with regulating air pollutants that threaten public health, but it kept the definition of “pollutant” broad. “They had the foresight to understand that they could not foresee every potential air pollutant that would endanger public health and welfare in the many decades to come,” said Zealan Hoover, who was a senior adviser to the EPA under Biden. That gave the EPA some leeway to determine exactly what it should be regulating — a question that presidents have approached very differently, with Democrats typically trying to expand the agency’s power and Republicans trying to limit it. With its 2009 endangerment finding, the Obama administration added carbon dioxide and five other greenhouse gases to the list.

Now that Zeldin has announced a plan to strike down the finding, the EPA will open a 45-day period for the public to weigh in on the proposal. The agency is supposed to take that feedback into account before moving to finalize the rule. At that point, states and environmental groups may sue the EPA in what’s expected to be a yearslong court battle.

“The lawyering that’s going to go on is going to make a lot of people rich,” Parenteau said. In the meantime, Zeldin would likely work to undo existing regulations on greenhouse gas emissions, unless the courts were convinced to pause the implementation of the new rule. 

Any lawsuit would probably end up in the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals, which hears cases concerning federal policymaking. Law experts say the EPA’s argument may not fare well with those judges, as the circuit has upheld the EPA’s authority to regulate greenhouse gases under the Clean Air Act in the past. On top of that, when Congress passed the Inflation Reduction Act in 2022, Democrats amended the Clean Air Act to explicitly declare carbon dioxide and greenhouse gases as air pollutants, bolstering the foundation for regulating them. Republicans did not repeal that language when they gutted much of the rest of the Biden-era law, and challengers are likely to invoke those amendments in court, Carlson said.

But that wouldn’t necessarily be the end of it, because such a case might go all the way to the Supreme Court. The court’s conservative majority could then choose to undermine Massachusetts v. EPA, the 2007 decision that gave the EPA authority to regulate greenhouse gas emissions and led to the endangerment finding. “That may be the ultimate aim here,” Carlson said, “to get the Supreme Court to revisit Massachusetts v. EPA to make it basically impossible to regulate greenhouse gases under the Clean Air Act.”

Read Next

Trump’s EPA wants to demolish the bedrock of US climate regulation. It won’t be easy.

Naveena Sadasivam

Undoing the finding wouldn’t just dismantle the foundation of U.S. climate regulation — it might also weaken oil companies’ best legal defense in the flood of climate lawsuits brought against them by cities and states. For years, oil companies have relied on a different Supreme Court ruling to argue that federal law shields them from state lawsuits over climate change. In the 2011 ruling American Electric Power Co. v. Connecticut, the Supreme Court found that because the EPA was already regulating greenhouse gases under the Clean Air Act, states couldn’t separately sue polluters under federal “nuisance” law — a type of legal claim used when someone’s actions interfere with public rights, such as the right to a healthy environment.

The court’s reasoning was that Congress had delegated the task of regulating emissions to the EPA, leaving no room for federal courts to step in on making climate policy. But if the endangerment finding is revoked, and the EPA no longer regulates those emissions, that argument could fall apart, leaving fossil fuel companies vulnerable in courts across the country.

“There is great concern that reversing the finding would open the door to a lot more nuisance lawsuits against all types of energy companies,” Jeff Holmstead, a partner with energy law firm Bracewell, told E&E News earlier this year. The oil industry may then pursue a backup plan: Companies could ask Congress, which is currently controlled by a narrow Republican majority, to grant them legal protection from climate lawsuits, according to Parenteau.

Undoing the endangerment finding could leave fossil fuel companies navigating a patchwork of state laws instead of a single cohesive federal policy. If greenhouse gas emissions are no longer regulated under the Clean Air Act, states would presumably be free to make their own rules, Carlson added. Among other consequences, that could strengthen California’s case against the Trump administration over its right to place stricter-than-federal standards on vehicle emissions. “There’s potential for a lot of chaos,” she said. 

It’s possible that a more liberal presidential administration could one day reinstate the endangerment finding, even if Zeldin manages to revoke it. But it would be a while before that could translate to any meaningful action on climate change, according to Hoover.

“Unfortunately, for anyone who wants to see government solve a big problem, there’s very little you can achieve through regulations in four years,” he said.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Trump’s EPA is attacking its own power to fight climate change on Jul 30, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Kate Yoder.

In this new guide, Grist examines the impact these changes could have, and are already having, on the things you do every day. Flipping on your lights. Turning on your faucet. Paying household bills. Visiting a park. Checking the weather forecast. Feeding your family.

The decisions have left communities less safe from pollution, more vulnerable to climate disasters, and facing increasingly expensive energy bills, among other changes. Read on to see how.

— Katherine Bagley

Your Home

Flip on your lights:

Pulling back from renewable energy could make your electricity bills go up.

When Trump began his second term, it was with a vow to “unleash American energy.” But over the last six months, it’s become clear that this call to arms was meant strictly for fossil fuels, not the country’s booming renewable energy industry. Trump has issued a series of executive orders to revive coal production, and he has opened up millions of acres of public land to oil and gas drilling and issued a moratorium on offshore wind leases.

This commitment was deepened with the Republican-led One Big Beautiful Bill Act signed into law on July 4. It bolsters investment in fossil fuels while sunsetting Biden-era credits for electric vehicles, energy efficiency, and wind, solar, and green hydrogen. Climate and clean energy advocates described the bill as “historically ruinous” for renewables and a massive handout to the oil and gas industry. The problem: Power demand is rising sharply, and recent growth in renewable energy has been reliably and affordably meeting that demand.

All of this could soon impact Americans’ electricity bills: According to one analysis by the nonpartisan think tank Energy Innovation, by 2035 the One Big Beautiful Bill Act could spike wholesale electricity prices 74 percent by stifling renewable energy at a time when new capacity is needed, and raise consumer rates by 9 percent to 18 percent, or $170 annually.

— Rebecca Egan McCarthy

 

Turn on your faucet:

Regulatory delays will continue to allow PFAS to contaminate drinking water.

Per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, are a class of manmade chemicals used to make everything from firefighting foam to nonstick cookware. Better known as “forever chemicals” because they don’t break down easily, the compounds have become ubiquitous in our lakes, soil, and even our own bodies. Roughly half the U.S. population consumes water tainted with PFAS. 

After years of mounting contamination and public outcry, the Environmental Protection Agency finally took steps to regulate the chemicals last year, establishing maximum levels for six PFAS types in drinking water. But in May, the Trump administration said it would rescind the existing rules and issue new ones for four of the chemicals, and delayed implementation of two others until 2031. 

Exposure to PFAS has been linked to decreased fertility, developmental delays in children, and reduced immune function.

— Naveena Sadasivam 

 

Check your weather forecast:

Funding and staff cuts are making it harder to track climate change and weather.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, or NOAA, provides critical scientific research on the Earth’s environment to U.S. communities and lawmakers. It houses the National Weather Service, which generates the data that makes weather forecasts possible, as well as the National Hurricane Center, which tracks tropical storms. 

In the first few months of Trump’s second term, his administration fired hundreds of NOAA employees, with plans to cut the agency’s workforce by a further 17 percent next year. NOAA has also taken steps to discontinue the collection of essential satellite data that forecasters use to track hurricanes once they form. 

Combined, these cuts could threaten lives: In June, John Morales, a longtime meteorologist in Miami, warned his viewers that “the quality of forecasts is becoming degraded” and that meteorologists may be “flying blind” with hurricane tracking this year due to the Trump administration’s “cuts, the gutting, the sledgehammer attack on science.”

— Matt Simon 

 

Run your appliances:

Disbanding energy-efficiency programs could increase your utility bills.

If you’re browsing for a new household appliance, like a dishwasher or washing machine, you might notice that some of them come equipped with a blue “Energy Star” label. The mark signifies that a machine meets a certain energy-efficiency standard, set by the federal government, and it allows consumers to choose appliances that can help keep utility bills low. Earlier this year, the EPA announced internally that it was planning to shut down the popular, voluntary program — though building and consumer advocates are now trying to save it.

If Energy Star is indeed over, it would mark the end of a program that saves American consumers some $40 billion annually in energy costs, or about $350 for every taxpayer dollar that goes into the program. 

The Department of Energy has also separately rolled back a slew of mandatory efficiency standards on appliances, ranging from microwaves to washers and dryers, dehumidifiers to ovens. Researchers estimate that the lower benchmarks could cost consumers $43 billion over 30 years of sales, due to increased electricity bills.

— Tik Root

 

Pay your bills:

Tariffs are disrupting supply chains and raising household costs.

Trump dubbed April 2 “Liberation Day” and imposed tariffs as high as 50 percent on nearly every country in the world, as well as several key commodities. Although he swiftly paused them for 90 days, the threat of reinstatement looms and some tariffs — on China, Canada, and aluminum — have already gone into effect, with higher prices on consumer goods like clothes, toys, and furniture. 

Companies generally pass the cost of tariffs on to their customers (even if Trump tells them not to). If Trump’s full, proposed tariffs ever do take effect, economists anticipate increased prices on everything from cars to electricity to building materials, the latter of which could also make natural disaster recovery and home insurance more expensive.

— Tik Root

 

Your Commute

Fill your gas tank:

Fuel-efficiency rollbacks could cost you more at the pump and worsen air quality.

Gas-powered cars have become more fuel efficient and less polluting over the years largely due to federal regulations. After the 2008 financial crash, the Obama administration used the bailout of the auto industry as leverage to impose stricter fuel-efficiency requirements, ensuring cars drive farther on less gas, thereby saving consumers money at the pump and reducing air pollution. The Biden administration later strengthened those rules, requiring that automakers sell passenger cars averaging 65 miles per gallon by 2031 — a one-third increase from 2024 standards. The threshold, which applies across an automaker’s product lines, was designed to gradually shift the industry toward electric vehicles, which do not release exhaust fumes or other tailpipe pollutants. 

In June, the Trump administration began the process of formally rescinding those rules. According to an estimate last year from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, the Biden-era rule would have saved $23 billion in fuel costs while also reducing emissions and pollution.

— Naveena Sadasivam

 

Drive your EV:

Loss of tax credits and cuts to federal program will make it harder to buy and drive an electric vehicle.

Under the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, or IRA, federal tax credits for the purchase or lease of an EV — of up to $7,500 for new cars and $4,000 for used — would run through 2032. But the One Big Beautiful Bill Act repealed those measures and cut the runway to only a few months. The erasure will likely make electric vehicles more expensive, which would put the technology further out of reach for many low- to moderate-income Americans. 

For those who still can buy an EV, finding a place to plug in could be difficult. In February, the Federal Highway Administration said it was suspending the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure, or NEVI, program, which would have directed some $3 billion to states to expand the nation’s charging network. In June, a judge blocked that move and ordered the administration to unfreeze funds, but the court battle isn’t over.

— Tik Root

 

Take public transit:

A funding freeze is pausing certain train, bus, and bike lane projects.

For those who don’t exclusively rely on cars to get around, Trump’s second term has been none too kind on the buses, railways, and bike lanes that make up the country’s public transit system. Trump has relentlessly attacked New York City’s congestion pricing, designed to reduce traffic and raise funds for public transit, and threatened to cut public transit funding to major cities like New York and Chicago. 

In March, Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy froze funds and ordered an investigation into any departmental grants that involve “equity analysis, green infrastructure, bicycle infrastructure, [and] EV and/or EV-charging infrastructure.” The directive also instructed employees to flag projects “that purposefully improve the condition for EJ [environmental justice] communities or actively reduce GHG [greenhouse gas] emissions.” The decision reverses Biden-era efforts to reduce the climate footprint of the transportation sector, which is America’s largest contributor to global warming, emitting over 1.8 billion metric tons of greenhouse gases per year. 

— Sophie Hurwitz

 

Your Food

Buy groceries:

New tariffs could raise your grocery bill.

The Trump administration’s whiplash approach to a wide swath of exorbitant tariffs on other countries has sowed confusion among consumers, manufacturers, and agricultural growers. 

Although Mexico and the U.S. briefly appeared to reach an agreement, Trump is now threatening a 30 percent tariff on all Mexican imports, and a 17 percent rate on Mexican tomato imports has already gone into effect. Other tariffs could drive costs up even higher: Trump’s 50 percent steel and aluminum imports could hike up the price of canned foods, for example. And country-specific tariffs could increase the prices of imported goods like coffee and chocolate.

— Frida Garza

 

Get food assistance:

Funding cuts are leaving people hungry.

Local food systems and national food safety nets have been decimated by recent federal cuts. In March, after freezing nearly two dozen streams of funding, the Department of Agriculture cancelled future rounds of the Local Food Purchase Assistance Cooperative Agreement Program and the Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program. The two initiatives were slated to dole out roughly a billion dollars to states, tribes, and territories to reduce food insecurity. As a result, the USDA’s Emergency Food Assistance Program’s deliveries to food banks and soup kitchens have been reduced or cancelled entirely; kids in schools and lower-income families have less access to affordable meals; and agricultural producers across the country have been forced to lay off employees, delay projects, or shut down entirely.

The One Big Beautiful Bill Act made unprecedented cuts to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, a federal program that helps nearly 42 million Americans afford groceries. The cuts are further poised to increase food insecurity across the country at a time when persistently high food costs, fueled in part by worsening climate disasters, are among most Americans’ biggest economic concerns.

— Ayurella Horn-Muller 

 

Eat safe food:

Federal job cuts are disrupting food safety programs.

The Trump administration cut 20,000 jobs from the Department of Health and Human Services, which oversees the Food and Drug Administration and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention— two agencies that monitor and respond to foodborne illness outbreaks. Although some employees were later reinstated, the FDA has paused multiple initiatives due to staff shortages, including a quality control program that keeps the agency’s network of food-testing laboratories running efficiently. The FDA also paused its quality-testing program for milk and suspended a program to test milk and cheese for bird flu just before the program launched. Meanwhile, the USDA axed a proposed Biden-era rule to reduce salmonella risk in poultry.

The U.S. food supply is one of the safest in the world, but experts say these cuts threaten to disrupt that system and undercut its ability to keep consumers safe in the long term.

— Frida Garza

 

Support local farmers:

Funding cuts are leaving small farmers in the lurch, threatening locally sourced food supplies. 

Federal agricultural policy has centered on two major priorities during the early months of the second Trump administration: First is the slashing of federal food and agriculture funding, which has left small producers struggling to stay afloat. Second is giving farmers who grow traditional commodities such as corn, cotton, and soybeans multibillion-dollar bailouts. This strategy first became clear when the USDA began freezing and cutting billions of dollars to programs that supported the purchasing of goods from small and midsize farms. Then, the agency expedited disaster subsidies — funds meant to help agricultural producers recover from extreme weather — for commodity farmers. The decision funneled economic aid away from small producers into the pockets of industrial-scale operations. 

With the strain of an agricultural recession looming over regions like the Midwest, experts see these moves by the administration ultimately leading to the loss of many more small American farms, which would disrupt local economies and limit access to fresh food.

— Ayurella Horn-Muller

 

Your Community

Take a breath:

Regulatory rollbacks could make air quality worse.

From rally stages to debate podiums, Trump repeatedly promised to deliver “clean air and clean water” if elected to a second term. He broke that promise almost from Day 1. Trump’s EPA is carrying out a massive deregulatory agenda, much of it focused on rolling back protections for the air we breathe. It rescinded billions of dollars in funding for a range of air quality initiatives, including clean energy projects and monitoring efforts in low-income and minority communities, though a judge ultimately ruled the latter unlawful. At the same time, the administration has also dramatically reduced the number of cases it brings against polluters. It even set up an email inbox soliciting requests from companies seeking exemptions from a range of clean air rules.

The agency has also taken steps to roll back limits on carbon dioxide and mercury emissions from power plants and methane emissions from oil and gas fields, which drive climate change and threaten human health. And in July, it repealed the “endangerment finding” — the landmark legal determination that classifies greenhouse gases as air pollutants and gives the EPA authority to regulate them.

— Naveena Sadasivam

 

Prepare for extreme weather:

Cancelled grant programs are making communities less resilient to natural disasters.

This spring, the Trump administration cancelled the Building Resilient Infrastructure and Communities, or BRIC, program — an initiative that sends billions of dollars to communities, municipalities, and states proactively so that they can prepare for natural disasters before they hit. The program funds projects like burying power lines, building culverts, and upgrading power stations to make them more resilient to extreme weather. 

Trump canceled $750 million in new resilience funding and clawed back nearly $900 million in grant funding provided to BRIC by the 2021 bipartisan infrastructure law, money that was already approved but not yet disbursed. The abrupt move ultimately led to the disruption of $3.6 billion in planned resilience spending across the U.S. — the kinds of projects that help protect people from flooding, wildfires, hurricanes, and more at a time when climate change is increasing their severity and frequency. Under Trump, FEMA also cancelled $600 million in flood-mitigation assistance funding to communities this year.

— Zoya Teirstein

 

Go outdoors:

A defunding campaign is threatening our shared spaces.

The future of public lands, parks, and forests in the U.S. is in the midst of a dramatic reshaping by Republicans, risking permanent changes to the environment and how we experience the outdoors. The Trump administration has fired a thousand National Park Service workers, hindering conservation efforts and leaving parks unable to accommodate the millions of visitors they typically welcome each summer. The administration also stripped protections for nearly 60 million acres of national forest and identified millions of acres eligible for potential oil and gas development. And a growing movement among Republican lawmakers and the administration would sell off millions of acres of public lands for housing and energy development — a policy opposed by 74 percent of Americans. 

In June, the Department of Justice granted the president the authority to revoke national monument designations, a status that marks land as permanently protected. The move threatens sites such as Bears Ears in Utah and the Sáttítla Highlands in California — two monuments that Trump has singled out in particular — which are significant to tribes and illustrate the complex history of U.S. public lands as stolen land.

— Miacel Spotted Elk

 

Wildlife watching:

New definitions are weakening species protections.

For decades, the Endangered Species Act recognized that in order to protect animals, it was vital to save the habitats they live in. The policy has led to the rebound of iconic species like the bald eagle, grizzly bears, grey wolves, and panthers, and it has protected millions of acres from development. But in April, the Trump administration proposed a new definition of the word “harm” that scientists, legal experts, and conservationists warn will hamstring the act’s effectiveness. 

Instead of the Endangered Species Act regulating activities that indirectly impact endangered or threatened species, like drilling in the spawning grounds of Atlantic sturgeon or logging forests that are home to a rare owl, the law will now only consider direct, intentional harm to the animal itself — killing, hurting, or capturing it. The rule change comes at a time when climate change and land use decisions increasingly threaten ecosystems and the animals that rely on them.

— Katherine Bagley 

 

Protect your health:

An attack on science is hindering research on public health.

The federal government has hemorrhaged more than 50,000 employees since Trump was reelected in January, including many who play crucial roles in keeping American waters and air safe from pollutants and disease-causing organisms. A quarter of the staff at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention alone were fired, leaving gaping holes across an agency tasked with keeping tabs on the movement of pathogens across the nation. The EPA is in the midst of a defunding and deregulation campaign, including the elimination of its research division, all of which limits its ability to oversee polluters. And the National Institutes of Health is rebranding its research on the intersection of climate change and public health, now focusing solely on extreme weather and excluding any mental health work.

— Zoya Teirstein

 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Trump’s environmental policies are reshaping everyday life. Here’s how. on Jul 30, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Grist staff.

Vietnam, the world’s second-largest exporter of coffee, is known for growing robusta beans. Earthier and more bitter than the arabica beans grown in Brazil, Colombia, and other coffee-growing regions near the Equator, robusta beans are often thought of as producing lower-quality coffee. 

In an effort to rebrand robusta, Mullin signed deals with coffee farming cooperatives in Vietnam and created smooth blends. Over the years, she helped a cohort of farmers convert their operations to organic. “We put in huge investments and were certified as the first organic specialty-grade coffee farms ever in Vietnam,” said the CEO and founder. In a few weeks, Copper Cow is planning to launch its first line of organic coffee at Whole Foods and Target.

But the second Trump administration has changed the calculus of her business. Mullin said she “was bullish” about her company’s prospects when President Donald Trump first took office, believing that Vietnam would likely be exempt from exorbitant tariffs since the president has many supporters in the coastal Southeast Asian country. Then, in April of this year, the White House announced a 46 percent tariff on goods from Vietnam. 

The shock left Mullin rethinking the very thesis she had set out to prove. “A big part of our mission is about how robusta beans, when treated better, can provide this really great cup of coffee at a lower price,” she said. “Once you put a 46 percent tariff on there, does this business model work anymore?”

Trump soon paused his country-specific tariffs for a few months, replacing them with a near-universal 10 percent tax. This month, Trump announced on social media that he would lower Vietnam’s eventual tariff from 46 to 20 percent — a sharp price hike that still worries Mullin. Meanwhile, Trump has threatened to impose an astounding 50 percent tariff on goods from Brazil, the nation’s largest importer of coffee, starting August 1. 

“I joke with my partner that I feel like I’m in a macroeconomics class,” said Mullin. In lieu of raising its prices, Copper Cow, which sells directly to consumers as well as to retailers, has scrambled to cut costs by reconsidering its quarterly team get-togethers and slowing down its timeline for helping more farmers go organic. The price of coffee hit an all-time high earlier this year, a dramatic rise due in part to ongoing climate-fueled droughts in the global coffee belt. As the U.S. considers fueling a trade war with coffee-producing countries, “it just feels like such an insult to an injury,” said Mullin. “It’s like, let’s have an earthquake hit a place that is in the middle of a hurricane.”

Economists like to say that demand for coffee is relatively inelastic — drinkers are so attached to their daily caffeine fix that they keep buying it even when prices increase. As the Trump administration mounts its retaliatory trade agenda, that theory will be put to the test. Coffee growers, as well as the roasters and sellers that purchase them in the U.S., are now facing unforeseen geopolitical and economic challenges. “We have not seen tariffs of this magnitude before,” said David Ortega, a professor of food and economics policy at Michigan State University. “There’s no playbook for this.” 

Should Trump’s threatened tariffs go into effect next month, it will likely hurt consumers, as many businesses will pass on the costs by raising prices. But it could also have ripple effects on coffee farms, as companies may cut costs by pulling back on investments in environmentally-conscientious practices like organic or regenerative agriculture. “Our goal was always to slowly convert the rest of our products to certified organic,” said Mullin. “And we feel like that is not an option anymore because of the tariffs.”

Even if the tariffs do not go into effect in August, the ongoing economic uncertainty will likely impact coffee growers in Brazil, which provided 35 percent of America’s unroasted coffee supply as of 2023. As U.S. coffee companies navigate the Trump administration’s evolving trade policies, they are likely to seek out new, cheaper markets for coffee beans. “Suddenly, they become less attached to where they source their coffee from,” said João Brites, director of growth and innovation at HowGood, a data platform that helps food companies measure and reduce carbon emissions along their supply chain. 

The problem with that, according to Ortega, is that other countries in the coffee belt, such as Colombia, do not have the production capacity to match Brazil’s and meet U.S. demand for coffee. If the threat of punitive tariffs on Brazil kickstarts an increase in demand for coffee from other countries, that will likely raise prices. For coffee drinkers, “there are very few substitutes,” said Ortega.

These pressures on coffee farmers and buyers are coming after a period of worsening climate impacts. A majority of coffee grown in Brazil — about 60 percent — comes from smallholder farms, grown on about 25 or fewer acres of land. “The current reality they’re operating in is that they’re already very stretched,” particularly because of weather disruptions, said Brites. Coffee grows best in tropical climates, but in recent years unprecedented droughts in Brazil have stunted growers’ yields, forcing exporters to dip into and almost deplete their coffee reserves. Vietnam has been rocked by drought and heat waves — and though robusta beans need less water to grow than arabica beans, making them a relatively climate-resilient crop, growers have also seen their yields decline. (Mullin said she is seeing early signs of harvests rebounding this year.)

Brites speculated that U.S. companies buying from smallholder farms in Brazil may be able to pressure growers into selling their beans at lower prices, adding to the economic precarity that these growers face. “For a lot of these coffee growers, the U.S. is such a big market,” he said, adding that it would take time for them to find new buyers in other markets.

Growers themselves are worried. Mariana Veloso, a Brazilian coffee producer and exporter, said producers are facing logistical challenges — and anticipating more. “If we want to ship a coffee in the next month, we will probably not be able to,” said Veloso, remarking that sometimes cargo ships holding coffee sit at Brazilian ports for weeks before setting out. Shipping companies seem to be delaying shipments from Brazil, said Veloso, perhaps in anticipation of the looming tariffs.

In the U.S., not every coffee company sources from Brazil or Vietnam. But the Trump administration’s existing 10 percent across-the-board tariffs are still rattling the coffee business. “We source coffees from all around the world. So we’re not immune to anything,” said Kevin Hartley, founder and CEO of Cambio Roasters, an aluminum K-cup coffee brand. He added, “You know, 10 percent here and 30 percent there, that’s not trivial.”

Hartley added that one of the impacts of droughts on coffee growers is that younger farmers worried about the future are considering leaving the business. “In coffee farming families around the world, it’s a tough life and the current generation is showing reticence to take off where their parents began,” he said. 

Regardless of whether the U.S. imposes prohibitive tariffs on individual coffee-growing countries, climate change is already taking a toll on this workforce. “Everyone’s looking for a solution for this,” said Mullin, who believes robusta beans can offer a drought-resistant alternative to the ever-popular arabica beans. 

Copper Cow has even started experimenting with a lesser-known varietal of coffee beans called liberica, which requires even less water to grow than robusta beans. “And it’s delicious,” Mullin said. It’s an extremely labor-intensive crop because the coffee plant grows so tall, but one of the farmer cooperatives she works with is starting to plant them now, thinking the investment will be worth it as temperatures keep rising. 

This new era of environmental, economic, and geopolitical challenges has shaken coffee brands. “Everybody’s wondering, in 50 years, will there be much coffee anymore? People are trying to be really realistic about what that world is going to look like,” said Mullin. In the midst of that broader uncertainty, the impact of Trump’s tariffs is another question only time can answer.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Climate change has sent coffee prices soaring. Trump’s tariffs will send them higher. on Jul 29, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Frida Garza.

This February, a team of scientists was working on Svalbard when irony took hold. Drilling into the soil, they gathered samples of bacteria that proliferate when the ground thaws. These microbes munch on organic matter and burp methane, an extremely potent greenhouse gas and significant driver of global warming. Those emissions are potentially fueling a feedback loop in the Arctic: As more soil thaws, more methane is released, leading to more thawing and more methane, and on and on. 

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In some parts of Svalbard, though, the scientists didn’t need to drill. Air temperatures climbed above freezing for 14 of the 28 days of February, reaching 40 degrees Fahrenheit, when the average temperature at this time of year is 5 degrees. Snow vanished in places, leaving huge pools of water. “I brought my equipment to drill into frozen soil and then ended up sampling a lot of soil just with a spoon, like it was soft ice cream,” said Donato Giovannelli, a geomicrobiologist at the University of Naples Federico II and co-lead author of a paper describing the experience, published last week in the journal Nature Communications. “That was really pretty shocking.”

Scientists can now dig with silverware in the Svalbard winter because the Arctic has descended into a crisis of reflectivity. Until recently, the far north had a healthy amount of sea ice, which bounced much of the sun’s energy back into space, keeping the region cool. But as the planet has warmed, that ice has been disappearing, exposing darker water, which absorbs sunlight and raises temperatures. This is yet another Arctic feedback loop, in which more warming melts more sea ice, leading to more local warming, and on and on. 

Making matters worse, as temperatures rise in the far north, more moisture enters the atmosphere. For one, warmer seawater evaporates more readily, adding water vapor to the air. And two, a warmer atmosphere can hold more moisture. This leads to the formation of more low-level clouds, which trap heat like blankets — especially in the dark Arctic winter — amplifying the warming. That, combined with the loss of sea ice, is why the Arctic is warming up to four times as fast as the rest of the planet, with Svalbard warming even faster than that. 

Researchers on Svalbard say rising Arctic temperatures have led to reduced sea ice cover and rapidly thawing permafrost. These conditions are part of a feedback loop that makes the region especially vulnerable to climate change. Courtesy of James Bradley

During the winter, Svalbard’s soils have historically frozen solid, and scientists assumed this made microbial activity grind to a halt. Reindeer could push through the snow to graze on vegetation. But February’s heat and rain melted the snow, forming vast pools of water that froze once temperatures dropped again. That created a layer of ice that reindeer couldn’t break through. “What we encountered was just so powerful, to be in the middle of this event,” said James Bradley, a geomicrobiologist at the Mediterranean Institute of Oceanography and Queen Mary University of London, co-lead author of the paper. “It really almost all melted over large, large, large areas of the ground. That ground remained frozen, so the water didn’t have too many places to drain away to, so what we also saw was huge pooling of liquid water over the tundra.”

This new climate regime could be profoundly altering the soil microbiome. Scientists assumed that methane-producing bacteria, known as methanogens, stopped proliferating when Svalbard’s soils froze in the winter, just like food in your freezer keeps for months because it’s in a hostile environment for microbes. But with warm spells like this, thawing could awaken methanogens, which could still produce that greenhouse gas even if it then rains and a layer of ice forms at the surface. In addition, that solid cap on the soil will stop the exchange of atmospheric gases into the ground, creating anaerobic, or oxygen-poor, conditions that methanogens love. “In some areas, deeper layers might never freeze completely, which means the methanogens and microbes at depth remain active,” Giovannelli said. “There’s no real winter period.”

Vegetation, too, is changing up there, a phenomenon known as Arctic greening. As temperatures rise, trees and shrubs are creeping north to conquer new territory. The good news is that those plants capture carbon as they grow, mitigating global warming to a certain extent. But the bad news is that dark-colored vegetation absorbs more of the sun’s energy and raises temperatures, just like the exposed ocean does. And shrubs trap a layer of snow against the landscape, preventing the chill of winter from penetrating the soil and keeping it frozen.

The speed of transformation in the Arctic is shocking, even for stoic scientists. And as nations keep spewing greenhouse gases, the feedback loops of the far north are threatening to load the atmosphere with still more methane. “We call this the new Arctic — this is not something that is a one-off,” Giovannelli said. “And on the other side, we’ve probably been a bit too cautious with our warnings regarding the climate. It’s not something for the next generation. It’s something for our generation.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Troubling scenes from an Arctic in full-tilt crisis on Jul 29, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

Mahi G’s song “Heatwave,” which was produced in collaboration with Greenpeace India, dropped in June, just as the country was reeling under soaring temperatures. Last year, more than 100 people died across India because of an extreme heatwave during the summer. Prolonged heat exposure can lead to heat strokes, a risk disproportionately borne by outdoor workers. 

In India, those workers typically occupy the lowest rungs of the social hierarchy. The country’s caste system divides people into four main groups based on birth. Those who are placed outside the system — referred to as Dalits — are often relegated to the most hazardous jobs. Members of tribes or indigenous communities — referred to as Adivasis — also fall outside this structure and face systemic discrimination. Successive governments in India have evicted Adivasis from their ancestral lands to clear the way for exploiting mineral resources.

Mahi G’s music primarily speaks to the experiences of Dalits and Adivasis. She belongs to the Mahadev Koli tribe, a community found in the western state of Maharashtra, and lives in Mumbai. She has released 12 songs so far since she first began rapping in 2019.  Nearly half of them are about climate justice.

Growing up, the 28-year-old rapper witnessed her community struggle to access clean drinking water. “It always made me sad to see women walk long distances to fetch water,” she said. As an Adivasi woman, her drive to research and write about the environment comes from a deep, personal space, she said, and she chose to rap about sociopolitical issues because “you can talk about a big issue in a short, powerful, and aggressive way.”

India’s mainstream hip-hop scene has been mostly dominated by upper-caste male artists, primarily from Maharashtra and Punjab, a northwestern state. But in recent years, a handful of Dalit and Adivasi rappers have broken into the mainstream, using their music to challenge caste hierarchies, critique government policies, and spotlight social injustices.

Among them is Arivu, who shot to fame with his track “Anti-national,” a bold critique of the Indian government led by Narendra Modi, a right-wing Hindu nationalist, whose party and supporters routinely label dissenting voices as anti-national. In another song, Arivu lays bare feudalism and its contemporary manifestations while paying homage to his grandmother, a landless labourer in a tea plantation. The video has garnered more than half a billion views on YouTube.

Mahi G’s videos haven’t had that level of reach, but she draws support from activists and nongovernmental groups working on environmental and social justice causes. Her videos typically garner tens of thousands of views, and one song about Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar, a social reformer and architect of the Indian constitution, has more than 300,000 views. But the music hasn’t made much money so far. She hasn’t monetized her YouTube channel and is instead funding her music through her salary as an engineer at a private company. 

“Heatwave” is not the first time Mahi G has used her music to talk about climate justice. In her first rap song, “Jungle Cha Raja” — King of the Jungle — Mahi G explored the relationship between tribal communities and the natural environment, highlighting how they have long worked to protect it. In another song, “Vikasacha Khul,” she raps about the cost of development — how the building of roads, skyscrapers, and shopping malls has come at the expense of forests, lakes, and clean air.

Rappers like Mahi G and Arivu are often making music that challenges the political establishment at great risk to themselves. In 2023, Umesh Khade and Raj Mungase, two rappers from Maharashtra, were jailed after the right-wing political party ruling the state alleged they had made defamatory statements about their politicians. Despite these concerns and looming threats, Mahi G said the response to her songs keeps her going. Her music has compelled people to think about the environment and has helped them realize that they don’t want industrialization that destroys forests, she said. Even though her community members, who are often new to rap, do not understand her music, she said they have appreciated her work to spotlight climate change, which has directly affected their lives. Shifting rainfall patterns and depleting water resources have taken a toll on the Mahadev Koli tribe’s ability to sustain themselves.

Asim Siddiqui, who teaches at Azim Premji University in southern India’s Bengaluru city and works on the educational and cultural politics of youth, said that rappers from lower-caste and indigenous communities who have been historically marginalised grow up in contexts where they are intimately connected to their social and natural environment. Ecological destruction or social injustice has a personal impact on their emotions and identity. “It becomes obvious for them to bring out these themes in their musical expression,” he said.

Siddiqui said that singing was historically stigmatised in India as a degrading occupation and, therefore, confined to lower-caste communities. But once India gained independence from British rule and embarked on its nation-building project, “some of the music traditions got classicized and later commodified, which excluded singers and performers from Dalit and Adivasi communities,” Siddiqui said. Hip-hop provided access to marginalised communities across the world, he added,  as it enabled young rappers like Mahi G to tell their stories through music.

For Mahi G, music is a platform for activism. “My rap focuses on protecting natural resources,” she said. “If you can’t plant a tree, at least don’t cut one down.” These basic principles form the core of her message.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline This Indian rapper is spitting bars about climate justice, caste, and Indigenous rights on Jul 29, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Haziq Qadri.

And so island nations in the South Pacific region of Melanesia, where Indigenous communities have had to flee their traditional lands due to landslides and rising seas, filed a case that was ultimately joined by more than 130 countries. Together, they urged the International Court of Justice to decide whether nation-states have a legal obligation to address climate change, and whether those harmed by a warming world have a right to reparations. 

Justices considered testimony in Indigenous Pacific languages, heard arguments from Indigenous attorneys, and learned how Indigenous traditions are being harmed by the typhoons, rising seas, and other extreme weather events worsened by the burning of fossil fuels.

Last week, the court issued a landmark ruling that climate harm violates international law. The seismic decision, although advisory, opens the door for countries like Vanuatu to seek reparations from some of the world’s biggest polluters, and it is widely expected to shape current — and future — climate lawsuits as early as this week.

“What the court has done has come in and made it crystal clear that affected frontline nations and communities that have been devastated by climate harm — harm that can be traced to the conduct of specific countries and corporations — those communities, those nations, they absolutely have the right to redress and reparations,” said Joie Chowdhury, a senior attorney at the Center for International Environmental Law. 

The court’s decision, handed down Wednesday, said that all nations have a legal obligation to limit greenhouse gas emissions and failing to do so, through the support of fossil fuel production, could violate international law. The justices didn’t disclose how much major polluters might owe, and said the level of reparations would be determined on a case by case basis. But Chowdhury said she expects the ruling to immediately influence ongoing climate litigation worldwide, and prompt new lawsuits. “There are litigators all over the world that are looking to this case and will absolutely bring it into the courtroom,” she said.

Kelly Matheson, deputy director of global strategy for Our Children’s Trust, a nonprofit law firm representing youth in climate litigation, said the organization is already incorporating the language of the advisory opinion into an amicus brief that it plans to file in a case in Latin America this fall. She also expects the ruling to feature heavily in La Rose v. His Majesty the King, a Canadian climate case youth plaintiffs brought against the Canadian government scheduled for trial next year, as well as a climate case pending before the African Court of Human and Peoples’ Rights. 

Government attorneys also are studying the decision to determine whether their countries can sue. Malik Amin Aslam Khan, former minister of the environment in Pakistan, said the ruling “opens up a legally grounded pathway for claiming climate damages and demanding reparations for countries like Pakistan, which has continuously been one of the world’s worst climate sufferers and has credibly recorded climate damage costs crossing $40 billion in the past decade alone.”

Ralph Regenvanu, Vanuatu’s minister of climate change, said Vanuatu plans to immediately push for a resolution at the United Nations General Assembly to implement the advisory opinion. The government also plans to use the ruling to advocate for better climate financing for the Pacific and better regional and domestic policies to address the climate crisis.

“For the first time in history, the ICJ has spoken directly about the biggest threat facing humanity, which is climate change,” Regenvanu said during a press conference at The Hague last week. ”It’s very important now, as the world goes forward that we make sure our actions align with what was decided or what came out today from the court.”

The ruling builds upon a growing consensus in international law that states have a legal obligation to limit greenhouse gas emissions. Last year, the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea ruled that the 169 countries that have signed the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea — a list that includes China and India, but not the U.S. — must reduce emissions. It was another victory led by Pacific island nations as well as island nations in the Caribbean and West Indies.

Earlier this month, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, a regional court for Latin and South America, ruled that a healthy climate is a human right and governments should limit emissions. The court also said they should prevent harm to marginalized communities such as Indigenous peoples and emphasized their role in combatting climate change.

“Indigenous peoples play an essential role in the preservation and sustainable management of these ecosystems because their ancestral knowledge and their close relationship with nature proved essential for the conservation of biodiversity and the mitigation of climate change,” the court wrote. “Therefore, states should listen to them and facilitate their continuing participation in decision-making.”  

Matheson said that when Sheila Watt-Cloutier, an Indigenous Inuk woman who then chaired the Inuit Circumpolar Conference, brought a climate case to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights wo decades ago, it dismissed her claims within two pages. Several years later, Palau brought a similar case before the ICJ to no avail. 

“For the law to be moving at this speed —  to go from dismissals and no consideration of the impact that climate change has on human rights 20 years ago, when the first case was filed, to now you have opinions from all but one of the highest courts in the world — is amazing,” she said, noting that an African court is expected to weigh in soon. 

While the ICJ ruling did not expound on the rights of Indigenous peoples and focused on the responsibilities of nation-states, it did clarify a question that has long troubled leaders of countries like Tuvalu and Kiribati that are losing land to rising seas: What happens to their borders if their islands disappear? On that note, the ICJ said any recognized borders should remain unchanged, which is important to ensure they continue to have a political voice on the international stage and control over their waters. “That presumption of statehood and sovereignty is a critical bit,” said Johanna Gusman, a senior attorney for the Center for International Environmental Law. 

The case was initiated six years ago by a group of law students in Vanuatu and led by the government of Vanuatu and the Melanesian Spearhead Group, which represents several nations in that region of the Pacific and the Indigenous people of New Caledonia.

“By affirming the science, the ICJ has mandated countries to urgently phase out fossil fuels because they are no longer tenable for small island state communities in the Pacific, and for young people and for future generations,” Vishal Prasad, director of Pacific Islands, Students Fighting Climate Change, said during a press conference at The Hague. “This opinion is a lifeline and an opportunity to protect all that we hold dear, and all that we love.”

The United Nations established the International Court of Justice in the wake of World War II to help the global community address conflicts and concerns peacefully and judicially. It has heard cases on issues ranging from  nuclear testing to fishing rights to the status of entire territories, such as Western Sahara. While not binding, its decisions are significant because they interpret international law and clarify states’ legal responsibilities. In this case, the court reviewed several treaties, including the 2015 Paris Agreement climate accord, and concluded that under those  treaties and under customary international law, all nations have a legal obligation to limit emissions and may owe compensation to countries that are harmed. 

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There are limits to who can bring cases before the ICJ, which only hears cases brought by nation-states and not, for example, Indigenous political entities such as First Nations in Canada. Gusman said that Indigenous peoples may instead use the language of the cases in domestic disputes or through other U.N. venues. For example, “Indigenous nations and First Nations within Canada now have stronger legal backbones to take cases against Canada,” she said.

The court’s ruling will also be dulled somewhat in the United States, which has long rejected the ICJ’s authority and under President Donald J. Trump has been retreating even further from climate action. The U.S. and China are two major polluters whose rejection of the ICJ’s jurisdiction could prevent a country like Vanuatu from suing them directly over their emissions. 

Korey Silverman-Roati, a senior fellow at the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law, said the ruling is a seminal moment for climate litigation but that the effects in the U.S. will be muted because U.S. courts don’t traditionally recognize the ICJ’s authority. “I don’t think we can expect that the direct language of the ruling will impact cases in the U.S.,” he said. He thinks the advisory opinion will likely instead influence other countries whose judicial systems give more weight to the ICJ, and influence the U.S. through the ruling’s use in international negotiations. 

Already, the ruling is expected to figure heavily at this year’s Conference of the Parties, or COP, in November in Brazil. Last year, negotiations fell apart in the waning minute to the disappointment of Pacific island nations and many climate advocates who criticized the amount of money pledged by U.N. member states as woefully insufficient. 

“The advisory opinion will be an essential tool that we in the Global South will use at the next meeting of the United Nations General Assembly, the U.N.’s climate change and biodiversity conferences, and everywhere to advocate for climate justice,” said Ilan Kiloe, acting director general of the Melanesian Spearhead Group. He said Pacific peoples have already suffered forced relocations due to climate change. “We have already lost much of what defines us as Pacific Islanders.”

Tik Root contributed reporting to this story. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How the world’s highest court bolstered the fight for climate reparations on Jul 28, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Anita Hofschneider.

Tribes can issue emergency declarations requests to open up help from regional and federal partners, typically 24 hours after the event. When help is authorized to arrive, emergency management systems tend to move slowly and may be staffed with volunteers juggling multiple roles in a new command to get aid directly to people. To help you prepare and stay safe, Grist has put together a toolkit to outline what Native people and their tribal governments should do to receive aid when natural disasters hit.

Jump to:

↓ How to find accurate information
↓ Preparing for a disaster
↓ How disaster response works for tribes
↓ Finding shelter and staying safe

How to find accurate information

Many people find out about disasters in their area via social media. But it’s important to make sure the information you’re receiving is correct. Below is a list of reliable sources to check for emergency alerts, updates, and more.

Your local emergency manager: This year, New Mexico and Arizona joined three other states (California, Colorado, and Washington) to create laws that establish “Feather Alerts” — public safety operations that many consider Native versions of AMBER alerts. This requires multiple jurisdictions to work together with preparedness in mind for when large-scale emergencies need to alert every cell phone in a region. Call a local nonemergency line and ask if your tribe has an emergency management department that operates police, fire, or hospital services. A simple call or visit to any tribal administration office can also help confirm if this is the case. Many tribal nations apply for federal or state grants in collaboration with other local governments.

From there, ask if you can sign up for any text alerts, emails, or an automated phone call service. For example, Navajo Nation has a text service: Text “NavajoNation” to 888-777. (These alerts can also be useful to learn about road closures, ceremonial events, and weather outside of a disaster.) 

Some alerts go to specific ZIP codes, or to people who receive tribal benefits like housing or senior services. Schools opt-in parents for campus alerts at both tribally run schools and campuses run by the Bureau of Indian Affairs (which can be another resource to get alerts).  Emergency managers are responsible for communicating with the public about disasters, managing rescue and response efforts, and coordinating among different agencies. They usually have an SMS-based emergency alert system, so sign up for those texts now. Many emergency management agencies are active on Facebook, so check there for updates, like livestreamed press conferences that give operational status updates and share resources for shelter and other aid.

If you’re having trouble finding your local department, you can search for your state or territory. We also suggest typing your city or county name followed by “emergency management” into Google. In larger cities, it’s often a separate agency; in smaller communities, fire chiefs or sheriff’s offices may manage emergency response and alerts.

National Weather Service: This agency, also called NWS, is part of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, or NOAA, and offers information and updates on everything from wildfires to hurricanes to air quality. You can enter your ZIP code on weather.gov and customize your homepage to get the most updated weather information and receive alerts for a variety of weather conditions. The NWS also has regional and local branches where you can sign up for SMS alerts. Local alerts in multiple languages are available in some areas.

If you’re in a rural area or somewhere that isn’t highlighted on the agency’s maps, keep an eye out for local alerts and evacuation orders. NWS may not have as much information ahead of time in these areas because there often aren’t as many weather-monitoring stations.

Read more: How to get reliable information before and during a disaster

Local news: The local television news and social media accounts from verified news sources will have live updates during and after a disaster. Meteorologists on your local news station use NWS weather data. Follow your local newspaper and television station on Facebook or other social media, or check their websites regularly. If you don’t have cable, these stations often livestream online for free during severe weather. 

Weather stations and apps: The Weather Channel, Accuweather, Apple Weather, and Google, which all rely on NWS weather data, will have information on major storms and other extreme weather events. That may not be the case for smaller-scale weather events, and you shouldn’t rely on these apps to tell you if you need to evacuate or move to higher ground. Instead, check your local news broadcast on television or radio.

Read more: What disasters are and how they’re officially declared

Tribes with police or fire agencies must have emergency management plans in place and are another resource for information on a tribe’s response plan. Disasters often bring first responders from elsewhere; checking in with the ones who serve the community are going to be the most useful on-the-ground resource for families with limited access to transportation or technology like the internet or cell phones.

Preparing for a disaster

As you prepare for a disaster, it’s important to have an emergency kit ready in case you lose power or need to leave your home. These can often be expensive to create, so contact your local disaster aid organizations, houses of worship, tribal leaders, or charities to see if there are free or affordable kits available — or buy one or two items every time you’re at the grocery store. 

Here are some of the most important things to have in your kit. You can read more details about how to prepare safely here. 

• Water (1 gallon per person per day for several days)
• Food (at least a several-day supply of nonperishable food) and a can opener
• Medicines and documentation of your medical needs
• Identification and proof of residency documents (see a more detailed list here)
• A flashlight 
• A battery-powered or hand-crank radio
• Backup batteries
• Blanket and sleeping bag
• Change of clothes and closed-toed shoes
• First-aid kit (the Red Cross has a list of what to include)
• N95 masks, hand sanitizer, and trash bags 
• If you have babies or children: diapers, wipes, and food or formula
• If you have pets: food, collar, leash, and any medicines needed

Read more: How to stay safe if you’re feeling exhausted or ill

How disaster response works for tribes

When a major disaster hits, your tribal government will communicate with the Federal Emergency Management Agency to apply for immediate aid as well as support for services that seek to mitigate future disasters. Here’s how that works:

There is a specific process cities, states, and tribal governments must navigate in order for residents to receive FEMA aid. FEMA has 10 regions that support tribes during disaster response. If your tribal nation’s lands cross multiple FEMA regions, identify which FEMA region the headquarters is located to determine whom to contact. Here is a map with a list of contacts.

FEMA updated its tribal policy in 2020, with the following guidance for its employees and contractors: Maintain tribal government relationships, consider unique community circumstances, and build tribal capacity through educational and technical assistance programs. It was updated again in December 2024 after FEMA held nine listening and consultation sessions with 118 tribal nations in all 10 regions the agency oversees. 

In 2025, FEMA changed that policy to empower “tribal nations’ sovereignty and access to federal assistance, thereby enhancing their response and recovery efforts and improving community and tribal community members’ outcomes.”

Here are other recent changes to the FEMA Tribal Policy:

• The policy gives power to tribes to define “tribal community member” when offering individual assistance to ensure “their full community is served.” This could reduce barriers for help to people not enrolled in the tribe to receive federal emergency funds for food, shelter, and reimbursements.
• Rebuilding tribal homes after a disaster also changed: When public assistance is approved, the federal government will automatically recommend that it takes on 98 percent of the cost when the total reaches $200,000. This means tribes could pay less for approved recovery and, as FEMA summarized from its tribal listening sessions, “provide more certainty for non-federal cost shares to tribal nations.”

Read more: How to navigate the FEMA aid process

State-recognized tribes

Tribes that are not federally recognized may encounter more red tape when trying to access government aid because they don’t have a direct relationship with FEMA. For example, the Grand Caillou/Dulac Band of Biloxi-Chitimacha-Choctaw struggled to get aid after Hurricane Ida in 2021.

According to a June 2020 FEMA policy, state-recognized tribes should be treated as local governments, rather than tribal governments with a nation-to-nation relationship with the federal government. This way, they can access both individual assistance if there is a major disaster declaration in their state, as well as public assistance for infrastructure repair.

Tribal and state collaboration

Partnerships between local tribes and states or cities they border are essential for how Native nations and people move disaster aid and recovery. For example, a deadly Oklahoma wildfire in March gave some insight into how FEMA’s local partnerships work in a state with prominent tribal jurisdictional maps and people who live both in and outside the communities.

Last year, Oklahoma created rules for its State Assistance Dedicated for Disaster-Impacted Local Economies Revolving Fund, which takes federal disaster money, approves requests for aid, and pays Oklahomans directly with loans for long-term recovery projects.

There is a growing number of coalitions focused on relationships among tribes to promote a more collaborative approach. For example, Oklahoma has had the Inter-Tribal Emergency Management Coalition since 2004 and meets regularly to discuss emergency preparedness.

Read more: How to find housing and rebuild your home after a disaster

Finding shelter and staying safe

Emergency shelters can be set up in established tribal spaces, like school gymnasiums, powwow grounds, and hospitals. Tribal senior services and schools have the most up-to-date records of people and organizations in the community and are tapped by emergency management teams for welfare checks and transportation needs. Hospital services can also be key to prescriptions and other medical needs.

In the same way that cousins and relatives are expected to offer a home to rest, tribal citizens now have the expectation for their tribal government to give full immediate aid and help in recovery.

FEMA recovery centers

FEMA disaster recovery centers provide information about the agency’s programs as well as other state and local resources, and are opened in impacted areas in the days and weeks following a federally declared disaster. FEMA representatives can help navigate the aid application process or direct you to nonprofits, shelters, or state and local resources. Go to this website to locate one in your area, or text DRC and a ZIP code to 43362.

Community organizations and nonprofits

Here are some organizations focused on emergency management for Indigenous communities:

• Partnership with Native Americans has a disaster relief service and fund that helps displaced people, sets up supplies for shelters, and more. They coordinate with local groups as well as the Red Cross. 
• Northern Plains Reservation Aid, Southwest Reservation Aid, Native American Aid, Navajo Relief Fund, Sioux Nation Relief Fund, and Southwest Indian Relief Council are groups that offer direct aid to the regions they can serve. They can also be a direct resource for state-recognized tribes.

Read more: How to access food before, during, and after a disaster

More resources

Here are a few organizations that have newsletters, workshops, and other resources for tribal communities across the country.

• The Tribal Emergency Management Association, or iTEMA, is a “national association created for Indian Country, by Indian Country” that promotes a collaborative approach to disasters that impact tribal communities. They offer workshops and resources for tribal leaders, emergency managers, and other interested people. 
• Hazard Mitigation Planning through FEMA is essential. How to keep up with federal grant deadlines and policy directives can be navigated by the Pacific Northwest Tribal Climate Change Project: The online resource hosted by the University of Oregon is an example of tribal regional planning, with foundational support from the Nespelem Tribe in northern Washington. 
• The Regional Tribal Emergency Management Summit in May brought direct sources to South Dakota on what to expect in the next year. Access to presentations, other resources, and a list of other events is available on their site.
• The Red Guide to Recovery is another example of tribes networking with outside community groups in California. The National Tribal Emergency Management Council is listed as a partner.

Download a PDF of this article | Return to Disaster 101

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How tribes navigate emergency response aid to citizens and what you can do to prepare on Jul 28, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Shaun Griswold.

“Hopefully that’s not for us,” he said.

The siren faded, and the teens — who attend an elite, all-boys prep school on the other side of town — got back to work. They are the most dedicated members of its prairie club, which finds them rising early on weekends to “rescue” rare plants from bulldozers and transfer them to restoration sites. Such unauthorized efforts have rattled some professional conservationists in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex; but in an era infused with climate anxiety, it offers a tangible way to make a difference — and a dose of adrenaline. “It’s like collecting Pokemons,” one said.

Max Yan (top, with shovel) and other members of the Blackland Prairie Restoration Crew at St. Mark’s School rescue plants at Coneflower Crest, a prairie in southern Dallas slated for demolition. Laura Mallonee / Grist

Coneflower Crest — as the boys call this place, after the dusty pink flowers that bloom here — is a nearly 300-acre stretch of undeveloped land north of I-20 that they say constitutes the last large prairie in the county. But heavy machinery is expected to crush the majority of its flowers, making way for a self-billed sustainable development with hundreds of homes and businesses that promise to revitalize a neglected corner of Dallas. But even eco-friendly projects come at a cost: The city is trading an ecosystem that naturally mitigates the effects of climate change for more impervious sprawl that only exacerbates them. 

Blackland prairie once stretched 12 million acres in Texas from the Red River to San Antonio — an area twice the size of Vermont. Its limestone geology was formed by an ancient inland sea that enriched its soil, feeding more than 300 species of native grasses and forbes like big bluestem, lotus milkvetch, and devil’s bite.

But since European colonization, agriculture and urban development have swallowed 99.9 percent of the prairie — and are still taking their fill. Last year, a solar farm claimed the majority of the state’s largest remnant, which spanned 2,100 acres near the border with Oklahoma. Over the past five years in Dallas County alone, more than 320 acres have succumbed to data centers, parking lots, high-rises, and warehouses with no coneflowers in sight. 

All that concrete increases flooding, pollution, aquifer depletion, urban heat island effects, and greenhouse gas emissions — the same problems prairies naturally alleviate, said Norma Fowler, a plant ecologist at the University of Texas at Austin. Long grasses slow rainfall, giving the ground more time to soak it up. Their roots spread in fine webs and reach a depth of 20 feet, producing humus-rich soil that holds water and releases it slowly, filtering out excess nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorus. Prairies also cool cities, temper the impact of wildfires (a fire on a prairie is easier to put out than one in a forested area), and sequester carbon — up to 1 ton per acre per year. It’s why biodiversity loss and climate change are inherently linked. “Everything we do for conservation is also mitigating the effects of climate change,” Fowler said.

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Environmentalists have rallied to save area prairies since at least the 1970s, when one patrolled Pioneer — an 100-acre remnant off I-30 — with a shotgun. By the 1980s, development loomed, prompting naturalist Ken Steigman to start digging up plants. Steigman even used a sod-cutter to roll up ribbons of sod — bugs and all. “It’s like Noah’s Ark,” he said. “You want to save everything you can.”  

But the work has its ups and downs. Activists were relieved when development stalled at Pioneer. But in 2018, a native plant grower named Randy Johnson saw workers pulling cores for a new project. Johnson, 62, rode his minibike through Pioneer as a kid, but by his twenties, that youthful abandon gave way to wonderment. He tried and failed to convince the landowner to spare its most ecologically sensitive areas. “It’s depressing,” he said with a drawl. “[It’s] something you love, and every day you get in your car and see it being destroyed.” 

He had nearly given up hope when a lanky freshman named Akash Munshi wandered into his school’s glass greenhouse, where Johnson worked part-time, in 2019. Munshi was “hyper,” Johnson said, and extremely bright. His extended family are rice farmers in south India, and he wanted to learn how to grow food. But this interest gave way to native plants, and within a couple years, Munshi was as fluent in their Latin names as in their common ones. 

He started the school’s first prairie club his senior year to restore a stretch of bermuda grass along a bike path nearby. To source the seeds, he visited local prairies, including ones he found by scouring satellite imagery. He counted six high-quality sites fated for development, underscoring the need to also salvage plants. Within two years, all but one — Coneflower Crest — were under construction. 

“I didn’t realize how quickly I would lose them,” he said. “There were some sites where there was no sign of development, and I’d come back [the] next week, and the whole thing was scraped.” 

The destruction coincides with unprecedented biodiversity loss. An estimated 40 percent of all known plants are potentially threatened with extinction, and they are disappearing at a rate many magnitudes higher than they have on average historically — the result of both human activity and climate change. Those recently discovered — like glandular blazing star, an imperiled plant first described in 2001 that is only found in Texas — are even more likely to suffer extinction before scientists can understand their ecosystem role or potential application in medicine or agriculture. As the populations of at-risk plants shrink, their gene pools become less diverse, making them more vulnerable to collapse.  

“Each one of those that’s lost is threatening an already under-pressure system,” said Canaan Sutton, a botanist at the National Ecological Observatory Network. Invertebrates, some of which have unique relationships with specific host plants, lose their food and habitat. There are fewer caterpillars to feed the birds and fewer bees to pollinate blooms, including crops like Texas’s famed Fredericksburg peaches. 

Rescuing individual plants won’t save these historic ecosystems, but it can help prevent some species from undergoing “a silent extinction,” Sutton said. Though conservationists focus on collecting seeds, they aren’t always ripe when developers allow them on site. Some are still so poorly understood that no one knows how to germinate them, and others, like compass plants, take years to bloom. Keeping an individual alive helps bridge the gap, enabling a bumblebee to find its way to the pollen it depends on to survive. 

“What we’re in now is this perpetually shifting baseline of, ‘This is what we have, and this is as good as it gets,’” Sutton said. “Ultimately, people doing these rescues are trying to move that baseline back in the direction of the past and a more interconnected, natural world — even if that’s just [with] a handful of plants.”

The summer after his senior year, Munshi was leading a high school tour through another prairie destined to become a highrise. Stopping for a water break, he noticed a tiny yellow flower against a girl’s black shoe. “Oh shoot!” he said. “That’s dalea hallii!”

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Commonly known as Hall’s prairie clover, this globally imperiled plant, listed as threatened by the state, grows nowhere else but chalky, south-facing slopes on limestone prairies, a subset of the blackland prairie where the bedrock surfaces, creating a unique microclimate where rare plants thrive. They face a unique risk, Sutton said: They survived the centuries because they were too rocky for the plow, but as developers seek more land to build on, that same rock now offers an ideal foundation for sprawl.  

At the time of Munshi’s discovery, less than 1,200 hall’s prairie clover were officially known to exist. He counted at least a hundred and shared his find on Instagram, where it caught the eye of a conservation botanist at the Botanical Research Institute of Texas, which banks obscure seeds. She used the organization’s heft to arrange an official rescue that October.  

The developer gave them three hours to dig up what they could. Wearing a straw hat shaped like a circumflex, Johnson showed 40 volunteers how to pry open the limestone with pickaxes, knives, sledgehammers, and pneumatic drills. Afterward, he hauled more than 200 daleas to the greenhouse in Forney that he now co-owns with Munshi. Johnson, whose long gray hair and narrowed eyes evoke something of a wizard, nursed the plants with a mycorrhizal fungi tea. A month later, he texted Sutton a picture of a flourishing dalea ready for transplant. “Check it out, dude!” he wrote.

Despite this success, it wasn’t enough time to save the thousands of other plants at Penstemon Point. So, when Kay Hankins, a conservation botanist at BRIT, offered to contact the developer at Coneflower Crest, Munshi asked her not to, fearing they wouldn’t be given enough time. He and others have spent dozens of hours relocating thousands of plants from Coneflower Crest and other patches to the bike path 30 minutes north — casting trespassing worries aside as easily as the rocks their shovels sometimes hit. 

Munshi said no one has ever asked them to leave. Neither have the cops. Once, while he was at another prairie, a passerby suspected him of burying a body, and three police cars pulled up. When the officers saw the plants, they left, merely annoyed. “They don’t care,” Munshi said. “They’re literally about to scrape the entire site.” 

Johnson fears requesting permission could backfire. In Texas, plants deemed threatened or endangered by the state’s wildlife agency aren’t protected by law, but landowners who don’t want the hassle or liability may destroy them more quickly. “This is a war between us and the developers, and nobody’s calling uncle or throwing up no white flags,” he said. “You can get out of jail, you can post bail, but once the [plant] genetics are gone, they’re gone.”

But the approach vexes some in Texas’s native plant community who view permission as essential for “ethical” digs that promote trust with landowners and developers, eventually helping get more on board.  

“If all the experience developers have [with conservationists] is negative, we’ll always be initiating the dialogue from a disadvantaged position every single time,” said Kay Hankins, a botanist with BRIT’s Plant Conservation Team, which has participated in four other rescues since its inception in 2019. 

Developer involvement could ensure that activists don’t inadvertently remove plants that grow outside construction boundaries, and more volunteers are willing to help if it doesn’t involve breaking a law. It also enhances the plants’ value for research and conservation, Hankins said, since reputable institutions, seed banks, and herbaria don’t accept plants collected without paperwork.

But it’s difficult to convince people of the long-term benefits when the few prairies that remain can quickly vanish. Developers aren’t easy to get a hold of, either. Ali Bocaum, who started the Central Texas Plant Rescuers in Austin in 2022, said one 1 of 10 respond. Some deny owning the land, though taking cookies to their offices helps. “They can’t ignore you when you’re there,” she said.  

Ashley Landry, who founded the Native Plant Rescue Project in Williamson County, north of Austin, in 2023, also plays “a long PR game” to gain access. She monitors building permits to watch for new development, then emails, snail mails, and drives by to try and catch landowners in person. In February, her team of volunteers succeeded in relocating 900 square feet of MoKan, the 30-acre “crown jewel” of central Texas prairies. Skid steers excised 56 sections, each as thick as a mattress, and pieced them like quilts at two nearby sites. If the plants survive, the method could be scaled.

“I just always feel so thankful to have seen these places before they’re gone,” said Landry. “It helps frame your understanding of what the landscape is supposed to look like.”

That sense of place isn’t easy to come by for the average kid in Dallas. A few prairie patches exist in public parks, preserves, and liminal spaces like power easements. But concrete – in the form of thousands of roads, highways, and bridges — has reshaped the city, and it’s anyone’s guess what’s buried under it all. The prairie club boys grew up in neighborhoods manicured with shrubs from other continents. They say they lacked a strong connection to the land — a quality that the environmentalist Wendell Berry has written is necessary for living in a locale without destroying it. But encountering landscapes like Coneflower Crest has transformed them. 

Munshi, now a plant science major at Cornell University, vividly remembers the morning two springs ago that he climbed up a roadside embankment and glimpsed part of what quickly became his favorite prairie. Butterflies frolicked amid more echinacea than he had ever seen, indicating the area was likely never plowed. “This is, like, a 10!” he exclaimed, filming the scenery. “Imagine what else is in here!”  

Munshi has explored about 140 acres and said that they contain several rare species, including hall’s prairie clover and white rosinweed, another plant only found in Texas. But in May, just two days after the boys uprooted the last Texas blazing star, a dozen men and women in business suits lined up with shovels to break ground. The young activists knew it was coming, but it still angered them to imagine the landscape razed — even as they grappled with a sense of complicity. “All of our homes were built on indigenous lands and biodiverse areas,” said the senior.  

Stacked against this tremendous loss, their efforts felt almost trivial. “The thought of what was here once and is gone forever will not leave me as long as I live,” Berry wrote in 1968. “It is as though I walk knee-deep in its absence.” But long after the bulldozers at Coneflower Crest move on to the next job, hundreds of its rarest plants will persist, swaying in the breeze along the bike path. Before the boys even transplanted the last ones, a few uprooted daleas bloomed, just as they had for centuries.  

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The guerilla campaign to save a Texas prairie from ‘silent extinction’ on Jul 28, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Laura Mallonee.

Before the Biden administration could finalize the rule, Donald Trump was re-elected president, ushering in another era of deregulation. Earlier this month, the Trump administration announced plans to revise or repeal 63 workplace regulations that Labor Secretary Lori Chavez-DeRemer said “stifle growth and limit opportunity.” 

OSHA’s heat stress rule wasn’t among them. And though the new administration has the power to withdraw the draft regulation, it hasn’t. Instead, OSHA has continued to move it forward: The agency is currently in the middle of soliciting input from the general public about the proposed policy. Some labor experts say this process, typically bureaucratic and onerous even in the absence of political interference, is moving along faster than expected — perhaps a sign that civil servants at OSHA feel a true sense of urgency to protect vulnerable workers from heat stress as yearly temperatures set record after record. 

But labor advocacy groups focused on workers along the food supply chain — many of whom work outside, like farmworkers, or in poorly ventilated spaces, like warehouse and meat processing facilities — say workers have waited too long for basic live-saving protections. Earlier this month, Senator Alex Padilla and Congresswoman Judy Chu, both from California, re-introduced a bill to Congress that, if passed, would direct OSHA to enact a federal heat standard for workers swiftly.

It’s a largely symbolic move, as the rule-making process is already underway, and the legislation is unlikely to advance in a Republican-controlled Congress. But the bill signals Democratic lawmakers are watching closely and urgently expect a final rule four years after OSHA first began drafting its proposed rule. The message is clear: However fast OSHA is moving, it hasn’t been enough to protect workers from the worst impacts of climate change. 

“Since OSHA started its heat-stress rulemaking in 2021, over 144 lives have been lost to heat-related hazards,” said Padilla in a statement emailed to Grist. “We know how to prevent heat-related illnesses to ensure that these family members are able to come home at the end of their shift.” 

The lawmaker added that the issue is “a matter of life or death.” 

Heat is the deadliest form of extreme weather, according to the World Health Organization. In the U.S., the Environmental Protection Agency estimates that 986 workers died from heat exposure on the job from 1992 to 2022, or about 34 per year. 

This is very likely an undercount. Prolonged heat exposure can exacerbate underlying health problems like cardiovascular issues, making it difficult for medical professionals to discern when illness and death is attributable to extreme heat. As heat-trapping greenhouse gas emissions continue to push global temperatures higher, experts expect heat-related illnesses and deaths to follow.

The life-threatening impacts of exposure to extreme heat in the workplace have been on the federal government’s radar for more than 50 years. Labor unions and farmworkers have long pushed for federal and local heat standards. In 2006, California became the first state to enact its own heat protections for outdoor workers, after an investigation by the state’s Division of Occupational Safety and Health found 46 cases of heat-related illnesses the year prior. Legislative efforts to protect workers or nudge OSHA along often follow or name farmworkers who died from heat stress. Padilla and Chu’s bill from this year is named after Asunción Valdivia, a 53-year-old who died in California in 2004 after picking grapes for 10 hours straight in 105 degree Fahrenheit heat. 

OSHA’s proposed heat standard would require employers to establish plans to avoid and monitor for signs of heat illness and to help new hires acclimate to working in high heat. “That should be implemented yesterday,” said Nichelle Harriott, policy director of HEAL Food Alliance, a national coalition of food and farmworkers. “There really is no cause for this to be taking as long as it has.”

In late June and early July, OSHA held virtual hearings in which it heard testimony from people both for and against a federal heat standard. According to Anastasia Christman, a senior policy analyst from the National Employment Law Project who attended the hearings, employees from the agency seemed engaged and asked substantive questions. “It was very informative,” she said. OSHA didn’t respond to Grist’s request for comment.

As written, OSHA’s proposed heat rule would apply to about 36 million workers in the U.S. Christman noted that sedentary workers — those who sit for most of the work day — are currently excluded from the federal standard. Ironically, at one point during the agency’s hearings, participants had to take an unscheduled break after the air conditioning stopped working in the Department of Labor building where OSHA staff were sitting. “They had to be evacuated because it was too hot to sit there and be on a Zoom call,” said Christman. She estimated that if sedentary workers were non-exempt, the number of U.S. workers covered by the rule would nearly double to 66 million.

From her point of view, OSHA is moving “very fast on this — for OSHA.” But Christman acknowledged that, even in a best-case scenario, regulations would not be on the books for another 12 to 14 months. At that point, OSHA would publish guidance for employers on how to comply with the regulation, as well as respond to any legal challenges to the final rule. That process, “in an optimistic world,” she said, could take between two and four years. 

For many farmworkers, as well as other workers along the food supply chain, that’s too long to wait. 

“For decades, millions of workers have been waiting for federal heat standards that never came,” said Oscar Londoño, co-executive director of WeCount, a member-led immigrant rights organization based in South Florida. 

The group has spearheaded multiple campaigns to draw public attention to how sweltering temperatures impact outdoor workers in the region, including plant nursery workers. Londoño said some agricultural workers have told WeCount it already feels like the hottest summer of their lifetime.

In response to the news of Padilla and Chu’s bill, Londoño said, “We appreciate any step by a lawmaker trying to protect workers, especially as we’re seeing, once again, a record-breaking summer.” But he cast doubt on OSHA’s ability to enforce regulations around heat stress, particularly in the agricultural sector.

“We know that there are employers across the country who are routinely violating the laws that already exist,” said Londoño. “And so adding on new laws and regulations that we do need doesn’t automatically mean that workers will be protected.”

WeCount’s organizing is hampered by Florida’s Republican governor and state legislature, which passed a law last year prohibiting local governments from enacting their own heat standards. In the absence of politicians who will stand for workers, WeCount members are trying to publicize the risks that agricultural workers take on. Their latest campaign, Planting Justice, centers on local plant nursery workers, who grow indoor houseplants. 

The goal is to try and educate consumers about the labor that goes into providing their monsteras, pothos, snake plants, and other indoor houseplants. “If you buy indoor houseplants, it’s very possible that that plant came from workers in Florida,” said Londoño, “workers who are being denied water, shade, and rest breaks by working in record-breaking heat, including 90- or 100-degree heat temperatures.”

Down the line, the nursery workers hope to solidify a set of demands and bring those concerns to companies like Home Depot and Lowes that sit at the top of the indoor plant supply chain. Similar tactics have worked for agricultural workers in other sectors; the Fair Food Program, first established by tomato pickers in 2011 in Florida, has won stringent heat protections for farmworkers in part by building strong support for laborers’ demands among consumers.

“Right now we are looking at every possible solution or strategy that can help workers reach these protections,” said Londoño. “What workers actually need is a guarantee that every single day they’ll be able to go to work and return home alive.” This kind of worker-led organizing will continue, he said, whether or not OSHA delivers its own heat standard.

“Right now we are looking at every possible solution or strategy that can help workers reach these protections,” said Londoño. “What workers actually need is a guarantee that every single day they’ll be able to go to work and return home alive.” This kind of worker-led organizing will continue, he said, whether or not OSHA delivers its own heat standard.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline A long-awaited rule to protect workers from heat stress moves forward, even under Trump on Jul 28, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Frida Garza.

In almost all parts of the country, the amount people pay for electricity on their power bills — the retail price — has risen faster than the rate of inflation since 2022, and that will likely continue through 2026, according to the Energy Information Administration, or EIA.

Just about everything costs more these days, but electricity prices are especially concerning because they’re an input for so much of the economy — powering factories, data centers, and a growing fleet of electric vehicles. It’s not just the big industries; we all feel the pinch firsthand when we pay our utility bills. According to PowerLines, a nonprofit working to reduce electricity prices, about 80 million Americans have to sacrifice other basic expenses like food or medicine to afford to keep the lights on. And it’s about to get even worse: Utilities in markets across the country have asked regulators for almost $29 billion in electricity rate increases for consumers for the first half of the year.

Why are prices rising so much all of a sudden? Right now, there are the usual factors driving the rise in electricity rates: high demand, not enough supply, and inflation. But there are problems that have been building up for decades as well, and now the bills are due: Aging and inadequate infrastructure needs replacement, while outdated business models and regulations are slowing the deployment of urgently needed upgrades.

On the campaign trail, President Donald Trump promised to bring energy prices down by increasing fossil fuel extraction. “My goal will be to cut your energy costs in half within 12 months after taking office,” Trump said last August in a speech in Michigan.

But electricity prices are still going up, and Trump’s signature legislative accomplishment, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, is likely to raise prices further. Without better management and investment, the result will be more expensive and less reliable power for most Americans.

The variables baked into your power bill, explained

There are several key factors that shape how much you pay for electricity.

There’s the cost of building, operating, and maintaining power plants. Higher interest rates, inflation, tariffs, and longer interconnection queues — power generators waiting for approval to connect to the grid — are making the process of building a new electricity generator slower and more expensive. PJM, the largest power market in the U.S., said this week that soaring demand for electricity and delays in building new generators will raise power bills 1 percent  to 5 percent for customers in its service area across 13 states and the District of Columbia.

Then there’s the fuel itself, whether that’s coal, oil, natural gas, or uranium. For renewables, the cost of wind, water, and sunlight are close to zero, but intermittent generators need conventional power plants or energy storage systems to back them up. Still, wind and solar power have been some of the cheapest sources of electricity in recent years, forming the dominant share of new power generation connecting to the grid.

That electricity then has to be routed from power plants over transmission lines that can span hundreds of miles and into distribution networks that send electrons into homes, offices, stores, and factories.

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Then you have to think about demand, over the course of hours, days, months, and years. Some utilities offer time-of-use billing that raises rates during peak demand periods like hot summer afternoons and lowers them in evenings. Cooling needs are a big reason why overall electricity use tends to be higher in summer months than in the winter. And for the first time in a decade, the U.S. is experiencing a sustained increase in electricity use driven in part by a rapid build-out of power-hungry data centers, more EVs, more electric appliances, and more air conditioning to stay cool in hotter summers.

More users for the same amount of electricity means higher prices. The Trump administration’s rollback of key incentives for renewables and slowdown of approvals for new projects is likely to slow the rate of new generation coming online.

And the process of bridging electricity supplies with demand is becoming a bottleneck, thus comprising a larger share of the overall bill. “If you actually look at the cost breakdowns of what’s significantly increasing, it’s really the grid,” said Charles Hua, founder and executive director of PowerLines. “It is the poles and wires that make up our electric infrastructure that’s increasing in cost particularly rapidly.”

According to the EIA, just under two-thirds of the average price of electricity is due to generation costs, with the remainder coming from transmission and distribution. However, energy utilities are now putting more than half of their expenditures into transmission and distribution through the end of the decade. “It used to be the case maybe a decade ago where generation was the largest share of utility investments, and therefore customer bills,” Hua said. “But it has now been inverted where really it’s the grid expense that is rising and doesn’t show any signs of relief.”

There are several reasons for this. One is that the existing power grid is old, and many components like conductors and switchgear are reaching the ends of their service lives. Replacing 1960s hardware at 2025 prices raises operating costs even for the same level of service. But the grid now needs to provide higher levels of service as populations grow and as technologies like intermittent renewables and energy storage proliferate.

Power outages driven by extreme weather are becoming more frequent and longer, but hardening the grid against disasters like floods and fires is expensive too. Putting a power line underground can add up to double or more the price of stringing conductors along utility poles, which is why power companies have been slow to make the change, even in disaster-prone regions.

While utilities are pouring money into distribution networks, they are having a harder time building new long-distance transmission lines as they run into permitting and regulatory delays. The U.S. used to build an average of 2,000 miles of high-voltage transmission per year between 2012 and 2016. The construction rate dropped to 700 miles per year between 2017 and 2021, and dipped to just 55 miles in 2023. There were 125 miles of new high-voltage transmission installed in the first half of 2024, but it was all for one project. The Department of Energy this week canceled a loan guarantee for the Grain Belt Express, a transmission project that would stretch 800 miles across four states.

There are also shortages of critical parts of the grid like transformers, while tariffs on materials like aluminum and steel are pushing up construction expenses.

One underrated driver of higher prices is the lack of coordination between utilities, grid operators, and states on how to spend their money. In utility jargon, this process is called Integrated Distribution System Planning, where everyone with a stake in the energy network puts together a comprehensive plan of what to buy, where to build it, and who should pay — but only a few states like Illinois, Maine, and New Hampshire have such a system set up.

“That’s sort of a no-brainer,” Hua said. “Anybody should understand the need to plan ahead, especially if you’re talking about something that has such high economic implications, but that’s not what we’re doing.”

So while prices are rising, there’s no easy way around the fact that the grid is overdue for a lot of necessary, expensive upgrades. For millions of Americans, that means it’s going to get more expensive to stay cool, charged up, and connected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Why your energy bill is suddenly so much more expensive on Jul 27, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Umair Irfan, Vox.

Last year, then President Joe Biden’s administration finalized new emissions limits for plants that use ethylene oxide, also known as EtO.

The rules require facilities install new controls to limit releases of the gas, monitor continuously for leaks, and meet other requirements. The standards were set to phase in starting in 2026, with the largest EtO users given an extra year to comply. Under Biden, the Environmental Protection Agency said the stiffer regulations would reduce emissions from EtO facilities by 90 percent and protect residents living near them.

But in a Thursday proclamation, Trump said he would extend the deadline for a slew of facilities across the country to meet the requirements, claiming the technology is not “commercially viable” to meet the timelines. Now, sterilizers will have two more years to make upgrades.

Trump argued the current rules would “likely force existing sterilization facilities to close down, seriously disrupting the supply of medical equipment.”

“In short, the current compliance timeline would undermine our national security,” Trump’s proclamation says.

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The extension applies to several Georgia facilities, including: Becton Dickinson, or BD, facilities in Covington and Madison; the Sterigenics plant in Cobb County; Kendall Patient Recovery, or KPR, near Augusta; and Sterilization Services of Georgia’s facility 15 miles from downtown Atlanta.

EtO plays a critical role maintaining safety in medical and dental settings by killing dangerous bacteria that can’t be eliminated by other methods, like steam or radiation. About half the medical devices used in the United States — approximately 20 billion devices each year — are sterilized with EtO, according to the EPA. It is also used to kill potentially harmful microbes lurking in spices, dried vegetables, walnuts and other food products.

But the gas has been known for years to be dangerous to humans.

In 2016, the EPA reclassified ethylene oxide as a human carcinogen and the gas has been linked to breast, lymphoid, leukemia and other types of cancers. That same year, the EPA determined ethylene oxide is dangerous at much lower levels than previously thought.

Based on its new threshold, EPA air modeling flagged several census tracts in Georgia for potential elevated cancer risks from exposure to ethylene oxide in 2018. But neither the agency nor the state Environmental Protection Division alerted the public. A year later, media reports revealed the potential for increased cancer risk based on the modeling faced by residents in neighborhoods surrounding Sterigenics’ Cobb County plant.

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The situation spawned a slew of lawsuits and in 2023, Sterigenics agreed to pay $35 million to settle dozens of claims by people who alleged their exposure to EtO from the plant caused cancer and other injuries. Sterigenics did not immediately respond to a request for comment on Trump’s proclamation.

Hundreds of lawsuits are still pending in Georgia against BD, Sterigenics, and KPR. In May, the first of those to reach trial resulted in a $20 million verdict for a retired Covington-area truck driver, Gary Walker, who claimed decades of exposure to EtO from BD and its predecessor, C.R. Bard, was to blame for his non-Hodgkin lymphoma.

Michael Geoffroy, an attorney who’s part of Walker’s legal team and involved in many other EtO cases, said the Trump administration’s move “is only going to make things worse.”

“Loosening rules or delaying implementation of safety standards that are there to keep communities safe and make it to where fewer people get sick with cancer is just a step in the wrong direction,” Geoffroy said.

In a statement, BD spokeswoman Fallon McLoughlin said the company is “committed to the safe and responsible operation of our medical sterilization facilities and has a long history of compliance with local, state and federal regulations related to EtO emissions.”

She added BD has already installed new emissions controls at many facilities and is committed to meeting the new standards. But she said doing so could require new equipment that may not be available in time to meet the deadline.

“The recently announced exemption will ensure there is a more realistic time frame to comply with the new requirements,” McLoughlin said.

A representative for Sterilization Services declined to comment. KPR did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

Mindy Goldstein, director of the Turner Environmental Law Clinic at Emory University, said the federal Clean Air Act allows presidents to exempt certain facilities from compliance for up to two years. But to do so, they must prove that the technology to meet the requirement is not available and the extension serves a national security interest.

Trump used both rationales in his proclamation. But Goldstein said he included little evidence to support the claims, which could give opponents an opening to challenge the move.
The Trump administration, meanwhile, has already said it’s reevaluating the Biden-era EtO rules, but it’s unclear whether they’ll seek to change the standard. Trump’s EPA has already unwound much of his predecessors’ environmental legacy, announcing plans to reconsider drinking water standards for certain toxic “forever chemicals,” roll back limits on greenhouse gas emissions from power plants and much more.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Georgia sterilization plants using toxic gas among those exempt from new rules on Jul 26, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Drew Kann, The Atlanta Journal Constitution.

Last year, then President Joe Biden’s administration finalized new emissions limits for plants that use ethylene oxide, also known as EtO.

The rules require facilities install new controls to limit releases of the gas, monitor continuously for leaks, and meet other requirements. The standards were set to phase in starting in 2026, with the largest EtO users given an extra year to comply. Under Biden, the Environmental Protection Agency said the stiffer regulations would reduce emissions from EtO facilities by 90 percent and protect residents living near them.

But in a Thursday proclamation, Trump said he would extend the deadline for a slew of facilities across the country to meet the requirements, claiming the technology is not “commercially viable” to meet the timelines. Now, sterilizers will have two more years to make upgrades.

Trump argued the current rules would “likely force existing sterilization facilities to close down, seriously disrupting the supply of medical equipment.”

“In short, the current compliance timeline would undermine our national security,” Trump’s proclamation says.

Read Next

How medical supply warehouses poison workers with ethylene oxide

Naveena Sadasivam & Lylla Younes

The extension applies to several Georgia facilities, including: Becton Dickinson, or BD, facilities in Covington and Madison; the Sterigenics plant in Cobb County; Kendall Patient Recovery, or KPR, near Augusta; and Sterilization Services of Georgia’s facility 15 miles from downtown Atlanta.

EtO plays a critical role maintaining safety in medical and dental settings by killing dangerous bacteria that can’t be eliminated by other methods, like steam or radiation. About half the medical devices used in the United States — approximately 20 billion devices each year — are sterilized with EtO, according to the EPA. It is also used to kill potentially harmful microbes lurking in spices, dried vegetables, walnuts and other food products.

But the gas has been known for years to be dangerous to humans.

In 2016, the EPA reclassified ethylene oxide as a human carcinogen and the gas has been linked to breast, lymphoid, leukemia and other types of cancers. That same year, the EPA determined ethylene oxide is dangerous at much lower levels than previously thought.

Based on its new threshold, EPA air modeling flagged several census tracts in Georgia for potential elevated cancer risks from exposure to ethylene oxide in 2018. But neither the agency nor the state Environmental Protection Division alerted the public. A year later, media reports revealed the potential for increased cancer risk based on the modeling faced by residents in neighborhoods surrounding Sterigenics’ Cobb County plant.

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The situation spawned a slew of lawsuits and in 2023, Sterigenics agreed to pay $35 million to settle dozens of claims by people who alleged their exposure to EtO from the plant caused cancer and other injuries. Sterigenics did not immediately respond to a request for comment on Trump’s proclamation.

Hundreds of lawsuits are still pending in Georgia against BD, Sterigenics, and KPR. In May, the first of those to reach trial resulted in a $20 million verdict for a retired Covington-area truck driver, Gary Walker, who claimed decades of exposure to EtO from BD and its predecessor, C.R. Bard, was to blame for his non-Hodgkin lymphoma.

Michael Geoffroy, an attorney who’s part of Walker’s legal team and involved in many other EtO cases, said the Trump administration’s move “is only going to make things worse.”

“Loosening rules or delaying implementation of safety standards that are there to keep communities safe and make it to where fewer people get sick with cancer is just a step in the wrong direction,” Geoffroy said.

In a statement, BD spokeswoman Fallon McLoughlin said the company is “committed to the safe and responsible operation of our medical sterilization facilities and has a long history of compliance with local, state and federal regulations related to EtO emissions.”

She added BD has already installed new emissions controls at many facilities and is committed to meeting the new standards. But she said doing so could require new equipment that may not be available in time to meet the deadline.

“The recently announced exemption will ensure there is a more realistic time frame to comply with the new requirements,” McLoughlin said.

A representative for Sterilization Services declined to comment. KPR did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

Mindy Goldstein, director of the Turner Environmental Law Clinic at Emory University, said the federal Clean Air Act allows presidents to exempt certain facilities from compliance for up to two years. But to do so, they must prove that the technology to meet the requirement is not available and the extension serves a national security interest.

Trump used both rationales in his proclamation. But Goldstein said he included little evidence to support the claims, which could give opponents an opening to challenge the move.
The Trump administration, meanwhile, has already said it’s reevaluating the Biden-era EtO rules, but it’s unclear whether they’ll seek to change the standard. Trump’s EPA has already unwound much of his predecessors’ environmental legacy, announcing plans to reconsider drinking water standards for certain toxic “forever chemicals,” roll back limits on greenhouse gas emissions from power plants and much more.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Georgia sterilization plants using toxic gas among those exempt from new rules on Jul 26, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Drew Kann, The Atlanta Journal Constitution.

Excess seaweed is a seasonal nuisance along the bays and inlets that twine throughout Puget Sound. But the issue has magnified as excess nutrient runoff has fueled sprawling blooms. It has become a bona fide threat to the business of Washington shellfish farmers like Joth Davis.

In the past, Davis has attempted to harvest the seaweed by hand to reduce the surging number of macroalgae menacing his catch. Alas, there is the “age-old problem of scale,” he said. “It is difficult work, and time available during low tides to tackle the problem is limited, with everything else we need to accomplish when the tide is out.” 

A couple years before the team got to work last May, researchers at the University of Washington approached Davis to see if he’d be interested in partnering with them to develop a new supply chain. The plan was simple: Harvest the seaweed from Davis’s farm, give it to small and mid-sized crop farmers in the area as a soil-building replacement for chemical fertilizer, and along the way study the effects — reduced emissions from a shortened supply chain, steady yields from shellfish and terrestrial farms, changes in soil chemistry, and possibly a way to sequester the carbon stored in the seaweed itself. They were also aiming to investigate the impacts of seaweed removal on shellfish survival and growth. 

A Department of Agriculture program established by the Biden administration, and funded by the Inflation Reduction Act, offered exactly the federal support they needed to make the vision happen. In February of 2022, the USDA launched the Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities initiative, or PCSC, which former Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack said at the time would “provide targeted funding to meet national and global demand and expand market opportunities for climate-smart commodities to increase the competitive advantage of American producers.”

Davis, who has a background in marine science, seized the chance. 

The aptly named “Blue Carbon, Green Fields,” project was selected by the USDA in 2023 to receive roughly $5 million of the climate-smart commodities money in a five-year agreement. In addition to Davis’s team at Baywater and the scientists from UW, the partnership consisted of researchers from Washington State University and Washington Sea Grant, conservationists from the nonprofit Puget Sound Restoration Fund, and the local farm incubator Viva Farms. In their first year in the field, the team harvested a little over 15,000 pounds of wet seaweed, which was stockpiled and distributed to four crop farms throughout the region. By laying the groundwork for the agricultural supply chain, the team was on track for the unthinkable — a quadruple win of sorts, where everyone involved benefitted, including the planet. 

Instead, not even halfway through a federal contract, their drying racks and other seaweed harvesting equipment are at risk of just gathering cobwebs on Davis’s farm; each unused tool a daily reminder of the progress they lost at the behest of President Donald Trump’s cultural politics. The supply chain, fragile in its novelty, is splintering apart.

Almost a year after the team began their field work harvesting seaweed in Puget Sound, the USDA announced that it would cancel the Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities initiative. In a press release issued on April 14, the agency called the $3.1 billion funding pot a “climate slush fund” and Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins decried it as “largely built to advance the green new scam at the benefit of NGOs, not American farmers.” The USDA said that it axed the initiative due to the “sky-high administration fees which in many instances provided less than half of the federal funding directly to farmers.” 

Robert Bonnie, the former Under Secretary for Farm Production and Conservation at the USDA under the Biden administration, rejects this claim. He contends that the reason some projects reported higher administrative fees than others is because roughly half the awards were intended to boost markets for smaller projects. “You would expect those projects to have higher administrative costs because those farmers are harder to reach,” he argued. “Take the Iowa Soybean Association, or Archer Daniels Midland, where they’ve got established relationships with farmers, where they’ve got high demand amongst many of their farmers, you’re going to expect those projects to have lower administrative costs as a percentage because they’ve already got an extensive network. So we wanted to provide flexibility across projects to make sure that the door was open to everyone,” added Bonnie. 

In any case, USDA’s use of the term “cancel” was something of a misnomer. In the same announcement, the agency shared its plan to review existing projects under a new set of scoring criteria, to ensure that they align with the new administration’s priorities. The release noted that the program would be “reformed and overhauled” into a Trump-era effort to redistribute the pool of IRA money. So as the Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities program sunsetted, the Advancing Markets for Producers initiative was born. 

The Trump program’s criteria required grant awardees to ensure that a minimum of 65 percent of their funds go directly to farmers, that they enrolled at least one farmer in their program by December 31, 2024, and that they have made a payment to at least one farmer by that same date. According to a former senior USDA official, who spoke to Grist on the condition of anonymity, the USDA grouped the 135 PCSC grantees into three buckets: Fifteen projects were told they could keep going, as they met the new thresholds; five recipients were told they could continue on the condition that they modified their projects to meet the new priorities; and 115 were informed that their projects were terminated as they did not meet the new policy priorities and were invited to resubmit. A few weeks later, the official said that projects that initially received cancellation letters were told something different – that the termination would be rescinded and they could just modify their proposals to meet administration priorities.

The group behind Blue Carbon, Green Fields was among the 115. 

In the USDA’s official termination notice to the University of Washington, shared with Grist, the team was told that their project “failed to meet the first of three Farmer First policy priorities identified by USDA” — that at least 65 percent of the funds must go to producers. A second notice stated that because of that, “the award is inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, Department priorities.”

Sarah Collier, the UW assistant professor leading the initiative, remembers how the news of the termination hit her. When she got the letter, “everything had to come to a screeching halt.” She jumped into crisis-mode, notifying the 25 or so people working on the project, including students whom Collier said saw their “dissertation research derailed.” She then reached out to notify the farmers who had been receiving the seaweed fertilizer. The timing couldn’t have been worse: the team had just completed a round of farmer recruitment, and were in the middle of signing contracts with five more small and mid-sized farmers.  

“I have days where I am like, I can’t,” said Collier. “I can’t handle one more conversation where all I can say is, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do about this, because this isn’t the way that things are supposed to go. This isn’t the way that federal grants are supposed to work.’” 

In May, the USDA sent a letter to grantees who had received cancellation notices informing them of how to submit revised applications. According to the letter, which was also shared with Grist, grantees would need to arrange one-on-one meetings with Natural Resources Conservation Service representatives and submit a new budget narrative and statement of work incorporating Trump’s policy priorities. They had until June 20th. 

When they first learned that their funding had been culled, Collier’s UW team, as the main grantee, wasn’t sure they were going to resubmit — or whether they even could. At the time, nothing further had been disclosed about what it would entail, so Collier decided to wait to talk with the NRCS to find out more. After that meeting, they moved forward with resubmission, in a bid to salvage what funding they were able to. That required Collier to create “a very revised” narrative and restructure the budget, in addition to regular meetings with the NRCS. 

The former USDA official noted that specific details of the resubmission process have since largely been kept quiet, since the vast majority of former PCSC grantees are fearful of speaking out about their experiences in case of retaliation by the administration. The closed-door nature of it all, with a lack of clear communication from the Trump administration and changes in guidance leading up to the submission deadline, the official said, has sown confusion and distress among former grantees. 

Although no official verdict timeline has been communicated — Collier has heard everything from 60 days to sometime in September — she expects to be waiting on the final funding decision for at least two more months. Hannah Smith-Brubaker, executive director at the nonprofit Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture, or Pasa, has been told something similar about her pending resubmission. Another PCSC grantee, Pasa also reapplied to the new USDA program after being informed they didn’t meet one of the Trump administration’s priorities. Doing so required a total revamp of what their old project had been structured to do. 

“In the end, we decided to completely rewrite our proposal rather than just alter our original proposal. We had already said goodbye to the old program and knew it wouldn’t be able to fit the new reality,” said Smith-Brubaker. She says she “lies awake at night” concerned over the outcome, including whether the USDA may choose to deny their resubmission because of Pasa’s involvement in a federal lawsuit filed earlier this year challenging the Trump administration’s funding freeze. 

“It’s hard to say right now which decisions and actions might unintentionally result in things going awry,” said Smith-Brubaker. “Even though we still feel it was not in farmer’s best interest to have this degree of disruption, and fear for what a new reality could mean where every change in administration could involve a complete dismantling of stability and promises, we are extremely grateful for the opportunity to still leverage these funds for what our farmers need most.”

In a series of separate recent actions, the USDA provided a peek into how leaders at the nation’s highest food and farming agency have taken strides to comply with the president’s executive orders targeting climate action, environmental justice, and diversity, equity, and inclusion. In mid-June, the agency announced the termination of more than 145 awards totaling $148.6 million of “Woke DEI Funding.” Then, on July 10, the USDA posted a final rule in the Federal Register revoking a longstanding provision that ensured “disadvantaged” producers have equitable access to federal support, by allowing for carve-outs designed specifically for groups, such as Black and Indigenous farmers, that have historically faced discrimination. Shortly thereafter, the agency also revoked guidelines implemented during the Biden administration that mandated schools administering federal meal programs to ban discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation. 

Some observers say that in the USDA’s rushed campaign to gut federal funding while erasing footprints of the Biden administration, the termination of the climate-smart project happened much too fast, and much too soon. For one, Bonnie, who helped design and implement the PCSC initiative, believes that the USDA’s invitation for grantees to resubmit their applications signals the administration’s initial lack of understanding about the bipartisan backlash to the decision. 

“The Trump administration was surprised at the amount of support for not only this program, but for climate-smart agriculture more broadly,” said Bonnie. Leadership at USDA were, he added, “under pressure to satisfy the far-right, to be anti-climate and anti-woke.”

“They try to paint with a broad brush about this being the Green New Deal,” Bonnie continued. “Most people that knew this program, knew that they were blowing smoke.” 

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While the Blue Carbon, Green Fields team is hopeful that, in time, an iteration of the project may continue, work on the ground has stalled. If they do receive a new round of funding from the USDA, Collier said, one change to their budget proposal will have considerable impacts on how the project will be carried out. To satisfy the requirements for resubmission, nearly two-thirds of the funds for the award will have to go directly to participating producers — rather than to the partners like the UW team, which is how it was originally structured.

“That does mean that, pending what we learn as we engage with USDA on this, that if we’re able to go forward, participants will have to seek out their own services to support the practices that they’re implementing, rather than having those services provided by the project partners, as part of the grant,” said Collier. “Instead, they will receive funds to seek out the services that they need, like technical assistance, or like harvesting and transporting seaweed.”

That modification, though seemingly minor, is rather significant, particularly for small farmers who already struggle with limited time and resources to allocate to anything beyond their day-to-day operations, some of whom say it presents an unjust burden. According to fellow PCSC grantee Smith-Brubaker, such a structural change will make things harder for them. “It’s really too bad to have to make it even more complicated for farmers to get the services they want and need,” she said.

Ellen Scheffer, who co-operates a 20-acre organic vegetable and grain farm in Fall City, Washington, is a small farmer involved with the Blue Carbon, Green Fields project. The funds “being yanked away” makes Scheffer “feel really defeated about the future.” A downside of USDA’s resubmission process, she noted, is that “any positive benefit that might help the future of our environment is going to have to be a side benefit, rather than the direct goal of the research. It feels very, very frustrating, especially as someone who is living every day trying to grow food in a way that is good for our planet.” 

Others, like project partner Viva Farms, the nonprofit farm incubator that connected producers in their network with the seaweed researchers, feels as if the group’s chapter together has already come to a close. “It did feel like the momentum was really a sheer drop-off,” said Viva Farms’ Elma Burnham. “We were about to prepare to onboard all sorts of new farms, to have seaweed drying here, to sort of get them more action of the program, instead of more of this, like, planning. And, yeah, it was challenging to see it sort of come to a halt,” she said. 

The likelihood of revival, according to Burnham, feels low. “Of course, we would love to see more organic, small-scale farmers pursue this research, we would love to see more innovation and collaboration happening in the Puget Sound region. But it feels over,” said Burnham. “This particular project feels over.” 

Davis, the shellfish grower, says he struggled to come to terms with the time and workload that would be demanded of him in the revised program — and what the restructuring of the proposal to align with the Trump administration’s policy priorities altogether represents. “I just thought it was kind of backwards, to be honest. It just didn’t seem like the right way to do it,” he said. For instance, directing most of the grant money to the farmers rather than project leads, he added, “didn’t make sense.”   

Instead, he’s going his own way. Davis has begun planning out an even shorter seaweed supply chain in tandem with his daughter Hannah and Emily Buckner, one of her colleagues at the Puget Sound Restoration Fund, just two of the six original partners. They’ve been busy identifying producers in the Chimacum Valley to collaborate with, all within a twenty mile radius of his farm. By narrowing the geographic range and foregoing much of the soil chemistry research, the scope of Davis’s new venture is limited compared to Blue Carbon, Green Fields, but, he said, “At the end of the day, I was, and I am, too invested in the parts that [the USDA] didn’t want.”

Still, not all the equipment that the USDA funds bought is laying idle around the farm, at risk of catching cobwebs: Davis is currently testing out a raft-based suction system to vacuum up the excess seaweed clustered around sensitive geoducks.

“We’ve got the equipment, and we’re going to harvest it and dry some and see where this can go,” he said. “We want to move forward with that, just to see if it works.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Seaweed brought fishers, farmers, and scientists together. Trump tore them apart. on Jul 25, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Ayurella Horn-Muller.

As I wander through tents emblazoned with the logos of organizations like the Nature Conservancy and Generation180, volunteers explain how fans can reduce their carbon footprints and join the clean energy transition. The longest line emanates from Reverb’s flagship tent, where batches of limited-edition blue-and-yellow Nalgene bottles hang from tent poles like so many coconuts from a grove of palm trees. 

Fans acquire the bottles by making a $20 donation, which enters them into a raffle to win a guitar signed by Matthews; they can fill their bottles at a nearby filtered water station. It’s all part of “RockNRefill,” a partnership between Reverb, Nalgene, and the Nature Conservancy. The program has raised $5 million for climate and conservation nonprofits and eliminated an estimated 4 million single-use plastic bottles. 

“It’s cutting down on single-use plastics, so we hope everybody takes a bottle home or brings it back to another show,” says Dan Hutnik, Reverb’s onsite coordinator. “We’re trying to help save the planet — I like to say, one water bottle at a time.” (I bought one of the Nalgenes, but didn’t win a signed guitar.)

With this year’s summer touring season in full swing, the Dave Matthews Band’s efforts are just one example of the increased focus on sustainability in live music over the past several years. Decades after trailblazers like Bonnie Raitt began to prioritize climate, more and more artists are embracing sustainability and pushing for change — both inside and outside the industry — with the help of organizations like Reverb. 

Founded in 2004 by environmentalist Lauren Sullivan and her husband Adam Gardner, a guitarist and vocalist of the alt-rock group Guster, Reverb has become a leading force in greening live music. The nonprofit sends staffers like Hutnik out on the road with acts from Matthews to Billie Eilish, setting up eco-villages and organizing volunteers. Reverb staffers serve as the bands’ de facto sustainability coordinators, allowing initiatives like RockNRefill to be scaled up, rather than every artist having to build something similar from scratch.

Reverb also coordinates with concert promoters and venues, which have their own sustainability teams and programs. As part of the recent renovation of Jones Beach, for example, Live Nation added a sorting facility out back where employees handpick recyclables and compostables out of the garbage. The company’s Road To Zero campaign, a partnership with Matthews, diverted 90 percent of landfill-bound waste at the majority of the band’s shows last summer.

Live music has grown immensely since the pandemic — the top 100 tours grossed roughly $10 billion last year, nearly double what they reached in 2019. (For various reasons unrelated to climate, the 2025 number will likely be lower.) 

If abandoning climate projects is the new normal in our current political moment, the music business hasn’t gotten the memo. According to a recent Reverb study, 9 out of 10 concertgoers are concerned about climate change and are prepared to take action — and artists are ready to lead the way.

“As more and more artists are asking for the same things, it makes sense for these venues to make it a permanent change and not something where they just say, ‘OK, put away all the Styrofoam and all that crap, we’ll save it for the next band,’” said Gardner. “And that’s where the power really starts coming into play.”

Five days after Donald Trump’s second inauguration, Coldplay played the biggest — and almost certainly the most overtly eco-friendly — stadium show of the 21st Century. A crowd of 111,000 streamed into Narendra Modi Stadium in Ahmedabad, India, to see the latest stop on the band’s Music of the Spheres Tour. Coldplay has grossed nearly $1.3 billion in the first three years of the tour, making it the second-most lucrative of all time behind Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour. 

Coldplay has notched quite a few firsts on the climate front. After the group’s 2016-2017 tour, front man Chris Martin and his bandmates were so concerned about their carbon footprint that they took a break from the road until they could forge a more sustainable path. They eventually began planning the Music of the Spheres Tour with a pledge to reduce CO2 emissions by 50 percent compared to their last tour, and to hold themselves accountable with transparent reporting.

Coldplay committed to offsetting unavoidable emissions as responsibly as possible, drawing on the Oxford Principles for Net-Zero Aligned Carbon Offsetting, a guide that aims to ensure the integrity of carbon credits. The group has also used a portion of its tour proceeds to support new green technologies and environmental causes. Above all, the band wanted to push the envelope industry-wide with a sustainability rider — a set of requests that artists make as a condition for performing — covering everything from venues’ power connections to free water for fans.

Concert promoters are accustomed to accommodating all manner of demands on big acts’ riders (ranging from peppermint soap to actual kittens) and have proven open to doing the same for climate initiatives.

“Any artist could add sustainability considerations to their rider and try to influence promoters and venues to do things in a lower-impact way,” said Luke Howell, the band’s head of sustainability. “While not all artists can change how a venue operates at the macro scale, they can all ask for no single-use plastics, more veggie options on menus, or make sure the kit they are using is efficient and specced correctly to minimize energy use. And they can all engage their fans.”

To that end, while operating at a scale that few other acts can approach, Coldplay has introduced a bevy of novel green touring concepts. The band partnered with BMW to develop the first mobile show battery, which can power 100 percent of a concert with renewable energy. These clean sources include solar panels that come along for the ride, as well as power-generating bicycles and kinetic floors that quite literally draw energy from dancing fans.

Coldplay, of course, isn’t the first group to care about its impact on the planet, or try to reduce it. Environmental activism in the modern pop music world dates back more than half a century to conservation-focused songs like Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” and Marvin Gaye’s “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology).” 

Similarly, early benefit concerts — many organized by late folk singer Tom Campbell — focused on causes like protecting forests in the Pacific Northwest. After Bonnie Raitt and Jackson Browne played one such show in Oregon, their crews needed a police escort out of town to stave off a convoy of chainsaw-wielding loggers.

As the science around global warming went mainstream at the turn of the millennium, artists turned their focus toward climate change. Raitt’s 2002 summer tour launched Green Highway, a traveling eco-village where fans could learn about environmental issues and check out the newest hybrid vehicles from Honda. She and her manager, Kathy Kane, convinced tour bus companies to let them power their vehicles with biodiesel, booking the tour well in advance so as to route buses efficiently instead of wasting fuel hopscotching the country. 

At every venue, Raitt’s rider called for replacing disposable silverware with real cutlery, and she began bringing her own water bottle refill stations to reduce backstage plastic use. If there wasn’t a proper recycling system on-site, the crew would bring paper scraps on the bus and dispose of them properly in the next town. And Raitt inspired a new generation of artists who were concerned about live music’s environmental footprint.

“All I had to do was look at the ground when the lights came up at the end of the show to see all the plastic,” said Guster’s Gardner. “I just didn’t feel good about it.”

His wife, Lauren Sullivan, was working for the Rainforest Action Network when a venue refused to let them set up a table at a Dave Matthews show. Apparently, the nonprofit had been rallying against old growth woodcutting practices of one of the venue’s major sponsors. When Matthews threatened to skip the gig, the venue relented. 

The episode inspired Sullivan to team up with her husband to channel the power of live music into climate action. Sullivan reached out to Raitt, who was on the Rainforest Action Network’s board, and learned that the touring gear from Green Highway was in storage. Raitt offered it up — and pledged to incubate Sullivan’s project via her own nonprofit, until Reverb was officially launched in 2004.

Sullivan and Gardner wanted their new nonprofit to be an organization that all acts could use to make their tours greener. In their vision, fans walking into any venue would be greeted by a Reverb volunteer wearing a band-branded T-shirt, ready to engage on environmental issues. Concertgoers would be incentivized to take action — like reducing their own carbon footprint or pushing elected officials to enact eco-friendly legislation — with chances to win goodies like ticket upgrades and signed instruments. 

On the artists’ side, Reverb helped institutionalize practices that not only reduced waste, but saved dollars — like replacing single-use batteries with rechargeable battery packs for performers’ in-ear monitors. Over time, due to artist demand, these rechargeable packs became the norm.

It turned out that, when big acts demanded a certain standard of sustainability, the live music industry was willing to make meaningful changes. Adam Met, from the alt-pop band AJR, remembers realizing this while planning a tour five years ago and asking venues to eliminate single-use plastics.

“Every place we went, the venue [employees] said, ‘Oh, like Jack Johnson,’” recalled Met, who now serves on Reverb’s advisory board. “That was the artist bringing the requests to the table, and an organization like Reverb.”

As the nonprofit grew, one challenge was broadening its reach beyond alt-rock, whose artists and audiences skew heavily white, male, and middle-aged. To that end, Reverb worked increasingly with emerging artists to help them weave sustainability into their touring process from day one.  

Perhaps the best example is Billie Eilish, who started teaming up with Reverb six years ago when she rose to stardom with her 2019 album “When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?” On her 2022 Happier Than Ever Tour, Reverb helped her eliminate 117,000 single-use plastic bottles, save 8.8 million gallons of water, and push venues to offer plant-based meals — for the same prices as meat-based meals. She also introduced the pricier Changemaker Ticket, with proceeds supporting climate projects. Eilish even fueled her 2023 Lollapalooza set with solar-backed batteries.

Other young artists have also joined the movement. Last year, for the first time, solar panels fueled the batteries behind festivals in the world of country music (Tyler Childers’ Healing Appalachia) and hip-hop (Tyler, the Creator’s Camp Flog Gnaw). And concert promoters continue to step up to meet artist and fan demand. In 2022, Live Nation invested in Turn Systems, purveyor of a leading reusable cup setup; earlier this month, AEG hosted its first solar-backed battery-powered festival.

“As touring infrastructure becomes normalized where we don’t have to go out of our way to bring along our reusables and compostables, it’s just part of what’s happening at those venues,” said Gardner. “If that becomes the new normal, then there’s massive savings there, both with carbon and with dollars.”

On a bright Monday morning, I was walking through Central Park with AJR’s Met — discussing the future of green touring — when, appropriately, we happened upon the seasonal amphitheater at Rumsey Playfield. Perched on a hill overlooking Bethesda Fountain, it has hosted acts ranging from Pitbull to the Barenaked Ladies. The venue is largely constructed with repurposed shipping containers.

“So the infrastructure itself is already reused, which is great,” said Met, who then wondered aloud how this sort of space could be used during the venue’s downtime — perhaps as a seasonal solar farm. “There are all of these different ways to think about how to use the venue itself as a producer for sustainability initiatives.”

For Met, though, what’s even more powerful is the collective ability of fans to mobilize around the causes championed by their favorite artists. That’s the focus of his new book, Amplify: How to Use the Power of Connectivity to Engage, Take Action, and Build a Better World. 

He believes that, with a little encouragement, audiences can be particularly potent around local causes. For example, during last summer’s AJR tour stop in Phoenix — where temperatures reached 109 degrees — thousands of fans signed petitions to FEMA asking the agency to designate extreme heat as a type of emergency, thereby unlocking additional funds for response. In Salt Lake City, concertgoers phone-banked around increasing the Great Salt Lake’s water levels because of the economic benefits it provides to seven different states; Met noted that each state later voted for progressive climate policies, even the ones that went for Trump.

This sort of activity might strike some as preachy, but it turns out most fans don’t mind. According to a survey of 350,000 concertgoers organized by Met’s nonprofit, Planet Reimagined, most fans encourage it. A full 70 percent of respondents said they had no problem with musicians publicly addressing climate change; 53 percent believed artists had an obligation to do so.

Perhaps the most important thing an artist can do on the climate front is spotlight the collective carbon footprint of concertgoers — a facet that has more to do with advocating for a greener society than a greener music industry. As part of its Music Decarbonization Project, Reverb recently released a concert travel study that found the average amount of CO2 emissions generated by the thousands of fans getting to a given show is 38 times larger than that of the typical act — including artist and crew travel, hotel stays, and gear transportation. 

That makes sense: 80 percent of fans at the average show arrive in a personal vehicle, usually gasoline-powered. Yet the study also found that fans are hungry for greener ways to attend concerts — 33 percent would prefer to use public transit, but only 9 percent say they can and do.

Rock stars can’t make cities build more subways. But they can work with municipalities to run more routes on show nights, and keep trains and buses open later than usual. They can also team up with businesses like Rally and Uber that can offer deals on group shuttles. That’s something Raitt and her peers never had back in the day.

“I mean, what were you going to do, send postcards to people in the ’90s: ‘Let’s meet up at 8 o’clock and catch a ride to the show?’” said Raitt’s manager, Kane. “The development of technology has been able to allow fans to connect into a community, and artists to connect to their fans, in more real time.”

Music — and the special energy and sense of community that forms around a concert — has a unique power, whether that’s starting fashion trends or catalyzing social change. It shouldn’t be a stretch for acts to inspire fans to choose more sustainable options, especially if artists and venues do the work to make those options more accessible. 

At its best, live music can be a launching pad for all sorts of climate-friendly ideas — from the plant-based concessions championed by Eilish to the kinetic dance floors pushed by Coldplay — making them not only available, but desirable to the broader public.

In the meantime, back at Jones Beach, as Dave Matthews winds down his set, thousands of cars sit in the parking lot beyond the grandstand, dimly illuminated by a strawberry moon rising over the ocean. While many fans will be leaving with new reusable water bottles, they’ll still have to burn dinosaur bones to get home. But the singer offers a message of hope.

“The world is a little bit crazy at the moment,” Matthews tells the crowd. “We should take care of each other a little bit more.”

One Nalgene at a time.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How musicians and concert venues are upping the tempo on climate action on Jul 25, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Zack O’Malley Greenburg.

“We believe we’re going to get 90-plus percent of all future projects terminated,” U.S. Representative Chip Roy of Texas told Politico after the bill passed. “And we talked to lawyers in the administration.”

Last week, Trump’s Department of the Interior announced what appeared to be a fulfillment of the president’s promise to his party’s right wing. The department’s new guidelines for wind and solar developers now require all federal approvals for clean energy projects to undergo “elevated review” by Interior Secretary Doug Bergum, who was appointed by President Trump in January.

The new guidelines include a granular outline of steps that will now require personal approval from Bergum’s office, rather than being delegated to department bureaucrats as had previously been customary. Experts who spoke to Grist say that this could create an unmanageable slowdown for developers and allow the administration to quietly kill wind and solar projects on public land. Some are even worried that the effect of the updated regulations will spill over into private projects, which sometimes have to consult with the Interior Department when their work bleeds into federal lands or a habitat for endangered species.

Since only 4 percent of existing renewable energy projects are on public land, clean industry insiders who have interpreted the new policy narrowly are not yet panicking. But those with a broader interpretation of the text — or those who suspect that the administration will take a broad interpretation — wonder if the new rules will amount to a de facto gag order on the industry. For now, only time will tell just how many of their fears come to pass.  

Much of the memo’s power to wreak havoc for renewables depends on how strictly it’s enforced. The Interior Department maintains a website called Information for Planning and Consultation, or IPaC, which developers often use to plan large-scale projects. You type in the name of a locale, draw a border around the general area of your proposed project, and IPaC will tell you what kind of federal permitting you might need to move forward. (For example, it would flag if there are any protected wetlands or endangered species that would be affected by your development.) As of last week, the website now displays a pop-up warning users that “solar and wind projects are currently not eligible to utilize the Information for Planning and Consultation website.” This kind of opacity could make it especially hard for developers to plan for an endless bureaucratic battle with Interior. 

“It’s one thing to take away our [tax] credits, but it’s another to basically just put impediments so projects can’t get built,” a source who works for a renewables developer told E&E News. (He was granted anonymity due to his ongoing professional engagement with the federal government.) “The level of review here is so ridiculous.”

Others say that, while the outlook for wind and solar has become much dimmer, the new Interior rules aren’t necessarily a kill shot. “I was personally very worried when I saw it come out,” said Jason Kaminsky, CEO of kWh Analytics, a solar risk management firm. “But after doing more reading, it does seem like it affects, hopefully, a minority of assets.” 

An internal report from the investment bank and research firm Roth Capital Partners, which was obtained by Grist, estimated that only 5 percent of projects on private land — specifically, those that require an easement or need to cross public land to connect a transmission line to the main electrical grid — would be affected by the new regulations. 

“If [projects are on] a private piece of land, that’s a totally different story that would not be impacted by this,” said Doug Vine, director of energy analysis at the nonprofit Center for Climate and Energy Solutions. “There’s plenty of projects that are going to go ahead.” 

Others warn that it will be hard to know anything for certain until the dust clears and the permitting process begins to play out. “Just how broad and wide-scoped the activities listed in the memo were, points towards an attempt to quash [private] projects, not just the ones on federal land,” said Dan O’Brien, a senior modeling analyst at the clean energy think tank Energy Innovations, noting that developers often end up consulting the Interior Department on issues like wildlife protection.

Regardless of the scope of the memo, any move with the potential to slow the deployment of renewables is almost certainly bad news for American energy, since most other sources of new electricity simply aren’t being built: 93 percent of new energy that came online in 2024 was renewable. But upon taking office, President Trump warned that the United States was reliant on a “precariously inadequate and intermittent energy supply” and immediately set about revoking previously approved federal funding from green energy projects, trying to cancel offshore wind leases, and rescinding clean energy tax credits that had been expanded by his predecessor. How this will lead the nation toward the current administration’s promise of “energy dominance” is unclear. 

“You don’t have enough [electricity] supply to meet new demand,” said O’Brien. “Instead of new capacity coming online — cheap renewables — you have existing gas plants running longer, and so gas demand goes up and prices go up, both for power plants and for household consumers. … All signs point toward this being a bad, bad scenario.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Will new Interior Department rules shackle wind and solar? Insiders are divided. on Jul 25, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Rebecca Egan McCarthy.

President Donald Trump has explicitly targeted climate- and justice-related programs and funding, but the resulting cuts have gone deep into services communities rely on to survive, like food aid in rural areas or improvements to failing wastewater infrastructure. Farmers have lost grants and support that help keep them going through increasingly volatile weather. Even your favorite YouTube creators may be affected.

We asked those who have lost their federal jobs or funding to tell us about what’s being lost: What was their work providing to communities, and what happens now?

Their stories, reflecting just a small sample of the many people who’ve been affected, illuminate  how deep these cuts go, not only into programs explicitly working to reduce emissions, but also into those keeping us safe, healthy, fed, and informed.

Have you been impacted, or know someone who has? We want to hear about it. Message us on Signal at 206-876-3147 or share your story using this form. (Learn more about how to reach us and how we will use your information.)

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline They lost their jobs and funding under Trump. What did communities lose? on Jul 24, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Grist staff.

It didn’t seem unreasonable, given that the nearby cities of San Francisco, Berkeley, and Richmond had done exactly that in recent months. What Jonick, an organizer with the climate organization 350 Bay Area, and others backing the move wanted the city to do was push state lawmakers to support SB 332. The legislation would explore alternatives to investor-owned utilities and introduce safety and equity measures to improve service. “We’re not being prescriptive and saying what exactly a not-for-profit system would look like,” she said. 

Yet this proved to be too much for the City Council, even if dozens of residents spoke out against the utility — which employs more than 8,000 people in Oakland — during a tense council meeting last week. The legislation, which also would have urged regulators to link utility executive compensation to power reliability and grid safety, was pulled from the agenda by a procedural maneuver. “It seems like a number of the council members have not had an opportunity to meet with both sides,” said Kevin Jenkins, the council president.

It was the latest setback in a nationwide campaign to replace investor-owned utilities with publicly owned operations. Advocates argue such a move would lead to cheaper, more reliable power and greater say for residents in how electricity is generated. Despite some victories here and there — Winter Park, Florida, and Jefferson County, Washington, have flipped the switch, and some nonprofit utilities, like California’s Sacramento Municipal Utility District, are many decades old — they’re fighting an uphill battle. Voters in Maine rejected switching to public power in 2023, an effort to do so in San Diego stalled amid skepticism from city leaders, and the city council in Ann Arbor, Michigan voted down a feasibility study proposal five months ago.

Those hoping to see Oakland join the fight come from the climate and environmental justice world. People of color comprise about 70 percent of the population, and almost 14 percent of the city’s 438,000 people live at or below the federal poverty line, leaving them burdened by utility debt. Critics of the utility, known locally at PG&E, also say the for-profit model disincentivizes maintenance and upgrades. That lack of upkeep contributed to faulty equipment sparking at least 31 fires, which killed 113 people, between 2017 and 2022.

Oakland council member Carol Fife sponsored the measure in support of Senate Bill 332, the Investor-Owned Utilities Accountability Act. Beyond calling for a feasibility study, the legislation caps rate hikes, prevents disconnections for vulnerable customers, and mandates periodic equipment audits and replacement. California’s utility bills are the second-priciest in the nation, and Fife said people in her district have experienced six rate hikes and frequent cutoffs in the past year — even as PG&E’s CEO earned $17 million.

“When I’m hearing that one ZIP code in my district in West Oakland has double-digit shutoffs for energy costs, I get concerned,” Fife said. “There are several neighborhoods in Oakland where at least 10 percent of the population has had their power cut off and remains without access to power.”

Critics say public power doesn’t necessarily mean cleaner power: Nebraska, the only state served entirely by a public utility, gets most of its electricity from coal. They also argue that the process of transforming a large utility system into a nonprofit would be time-intensive and expensive, and that they could cost electrical workers their jobs. But those weren’t the primary concerns constituents brought to Fife in voicing their reservations: She said Oaklanders were afraid that PG&E grant funding to local nonprofits would be cut off. 

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The company, which provides power to about 16 million people throughout California, is Oakland’s second-largest employer, and it recently spent $900 million relocating to Oakland. The utility also is a big philanthropic player — it provided nearly 1,000 grants throughout the state totaling $36 million last year, and spent $3.5 million on Oakland nonprofits in particular.  Fife said nonprofit leaders she’s known for “two, three decades” said they supported her resolution but feared losing funding over it. (None of them spoke at the July 15 council meeting.) 

“The lobbyists for PG&E were telling people that I specifically was trying to push PG&E out of Oakland, that I would be responsible for a lack of charitable giving to nonprofits in my district and in the city,” she said. 

A PG&E representative, in an emailed statement, said the company “did not, and would not, suggest that we would pull our charitable support.” 

“We stand ready to continue to listen to the concerns of City Council members and citizens, and we look forward to continuing to work with city officials on tangible efforts to advance energy equity, climate resilience, and public safety.” 

The company representative did not comment on SB 332, but the company made the its thoughts clear during a Senate hearing in May: “SB 332 proposes sweeping changes without fully accounting for existing regulatory safeguards or the operational complexities of transforming the state’s energy infrastructure,” a PG&E lobbyist told lawmakers. 

PG&E’s response speaks to the vehemence with which investor-owned utilities fight to maintain their hold over energy. When advocates of public power in Maine managed to get a referendum on the ballot, the state’s two dominant utilities spent more than $40 million to oppose it, outspending its advocates 34 to 1 and handily defeating the measure.

Even if Oakland’s resolution is out of play for now, the city’s public-power advocates aren’t done. As SB 332 continues moving through the legislature, “We’re also building this movement from the ground up,” Jonick said. That might look like more community workshops, or more city council resolutions. Above all, it’ll look like neighbors talking to each other. “No matter what, we’re going to be pushing to build community understanding that another way is possible, and we can fight the utility monopolies’ hold on us.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The national fight for public power comes to Oakland on Jul 24, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Sophie Hurwitz.

A whole lot of carbon, in fact: Worldwide, some 13 billion tons of CO2 flows from plants to mycorrhizal fungi every year — about a third of humanity’s emissions from fossil fuels — not to mention the CO2 they help trees capture by growing big and strong. Yet when you hear about campaigns to conserve and plant more trees to slow climate change, you don’t hear about the mycorrhizal fungi. Humanity may be missing the forest for the trees, in other words, in part because without going somewhere and digging, it’s hard to tell what mycorrhizal species are associating with what plants in a given ecosystem.

A new research project is trying to change that. The Society for the Protection of Underground Networks, or SPUN, has launched the Underground Atlas, an interactive tool that maps mycorrhizal fungi diversity around the world. It’s a resource for scientists and conservationists to better understand where to focus on protecting these species so they can keep sequestering carbon and provide other critical services in ecosystems. “We’ve known for a long time that these mycorrhizal fungi are very important in ecosystems, and that they exist all over the planet and partner with lots of different plants,” said fungal ecologist Michael Van Nuland, lead data scientist at SPUN and lead author of a new paper describing the work in the journal Nature. “But it’s been hard to match that sense of scale with large datasets or large-scale, high-resolution maps.”

To build this atlas, Van Nuland and his colleagues didn’t visit every square foot of vegetation on Earth and take soil samples, because they didn’t have to. Instead, they analyzed the DNA of mycorrhizal fungi samples from 130 countries. Because they knew the conditions where the samples were taken — local temperatures, precipitation, vegetation type, even the pH of the soil — they could teach a computer model to associate those characteristics with different species of fungi. 

Now the system could predict what mycorrhizal species should live in a given place, even if scientists haven’t been at that exact spot to collect a sample. In the map above, brighter colors indicate a greater diversity of a group known as ectomycorrhizal fungi, which grow as sheaths around roots. Notice the glowing areas in the far north, which include boreal forests. “It is nice to see that their model recapitulates the patterns that we mostly know to expect of high diversity in those temperate boreal regions,” said fungal ecologist Laura M. Bogar, who studies ectomycorrhizal fungi at the University of California, Davis, but wasn’t involved in the research.

The map above inverts that dynamic. It shows the predicted richness of the second group, the arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi. (You can play with the map here. To toggle between the two groups, hit the button at lower right.) Instead of encasing the roots, these penetrate them. Notice their species richness beyond the boreal forests, especially in the tropics. Interestingly, an arbuscular fungi hot spot isn’t the Amazon rainforest, but the adjacent savanna in Brazil. “When you think where the hottest hot spots on the planet for biodiversity are, most people are going to think about the Amazon rainforest,” Van Nuland said. “But for this type of mycorrhizal fungal group, that’s in the surrounding ecosystem.”

Scientists are still working out what influences the global distribution of ectomycorrhizal and arbuscular fungi. Complicating matters, though, is the fact that the two groups can overlap in the same environments. Bogar, for instance, works in Northern California with Douglas fir trees, which have ectomycorrhizal fungi, and redwoods, which have arbuscular fungi. “Even though to me standing on the ground, they both look like just really tall, beautiful trees that probably have similar ecology,” Bogar said. “From the perspective of a fungus interacting with their roots, they’re profoundly different.”

Globally, the researchers found that just 9.5 percent of fungal biodiversity hot spots lie within existing protected areas. If an area is deforested to make way for cattle grazing — a particularly acute problem in the Amazon — mycorrhizal fungi lose the partners they need for energy, and the planet loses a powerful symbiosis that naturally draws down carbon into soils. Without a robust population of fungi, nutrients leech out of the system, and soil erosion increases. “There are all these other cascading benefits, beyond just how much carbon physically goes into the bodies of the fungi,” Van Nuland said.

Not only do mycorrhizal fungi have to deal with humans degrading their habitats, but the climate around them is rapidly changing. Van Nuland and his colleagues included historical data in their model, which found that climates that were stable over long periods allowed unique and rare symbioses to evolve between plants and fungi. With the atmosphere now in flux — both with rising temperatures and worsening droughts — those unique symbioses may be at risk, imperiling both plant and mycorrhizal fungus. 

Equipped with the atlas, scientists might be able to better prioritize where they venture in the field to study the fungi, Bogar said. Van Nuland, meanwhile, is trying to determine the best way to conserve these essential fungi, especially the biodiversity hot spots popping up on the map. “We don’t know if the same protection strategies work for mycorrhizal fungi like they do for plant and animal biodiversity,” Van Nuland said. “We are actively researching that right now.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline There’s a surprising climate solution right under your feet on Jul 24, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

So what exactly is a heat dome, and why does it last so long? And what gives with all the extra moisture? 

A heat dome is a self-reinforcing machine of misery. It’s a system of high-pressure air, which sinks from a few thousand feet up and compresses as it gets closer to the ground. When molecules in the air have less space, they bump into each other and heat up. “I think about it like a mosh pit,” said Shel Winkley, the weather and climate engagement specialist at the research group Climate Central. “Everybody’s moving around and bumping into each other, and it gets hotter.”

But these soaring temperatures aren’t happening on their own with this heat dome. The high pressure also discourages the formation of clouds, which typically need rising air. “There’s going to be very little in the way of cloudiness, so it’ll be a lot of sunshine which, in turn, will warm the atmosphere even more,” said AccuWeather senior meteorologist Tom Kines. “You’re just kind of trapping that hot air over one part of the country.”

In the beginning, a heat dome evaporates moisture in the soil, which provides a bit of cooling. But then, the evaporation will significantly raise humidity. (A major contributor during this month’s heat dome will be the swaths of corn crops across the central U.S., which could help raise humidity in states like Minnesota, Iowa, and Indiana above that of Florida.) This sort of high pressure system also grabs moisture from the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico, which evaporate more water the hotter they get. And generally speaking, the warmer the atmosphere becomes, the more moisture it can hold. Once that moisture in the landscape is all gone, more heat accumulates — and more and more. A heat dome, then, essentially feeds off itself, potentially for weeks, a sort of giant blow drier pointed at the landscape. 

On their own, temperatures soaring over 100 are bad enough for human health. Such high humidity makes it even harder for the human body to cool itself, because it’s harder for sweat to evaporate. Hence 100 degrees on the thermometer feeling more like 110. The elderly and very young can’t cool their bodies as efficiently, putting them at higher risk. Those with heart conditions are also vulnerable, because the human body tries to cool itself by pumping more blood. And those with outdoor jobs — construction workers, garbage collectors, delivery drivers on bikes or scooters — have little choice but to toil in the heat, with vanishing few laws to protect them.

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The humidity effect is especially pronounced in areas whose soils are soaked with recent rainfall, like central Texas, which earlier this month suffered catastrophic flooding. There’s the potential for “compound disasters” here: relief efforts in inundated areas like Kerr County now have to reckon with soaring temperatures as well. The Gulf of Mexico provided the moisture that made the flooding so bad, and now it’s providing additional humidity during the heat dome.

A heat dome gets all the more dangerous the longer it stagnates on the landscape. And unfortunately, climate change is making these sorts of heat waves longer and more intense. According to Climate Central, climate change made this heat dome at least five times more likely. “These temperatures aren’t necessarily impossible, but they’d be very hard to happen without a fingerprint of climate change,” Winkley said.

Summer nights are warming almost twice as fast as summer days, Winkley adds, which makes heat waves all the more dangerous. As this heat dome takes hold, nighttime low temperatures may go up 15 degrees above average. For those without air conditioning — or who can’t afford to run it even if they have AC — their homes will swelter through the night, the time when temperatures are supposed to come down and give respite. Without that, the stress builds and builds, especially for those vulnerable groups. 

“When you look at this heat wave, yes, it is going to be uncomfortable during the day,” Winkley said. “But it’s especially those nighttime temperatures that are the big blinking red light that this is a climate-change-boosted event.”

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

• Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

• Are you affected by the flooding in Texas? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

• Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The science behind the heat dome — ‘a mosh pit’ of molecules on Jul 22, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

“Their surprise says as much about Martha’s Vineyard as it does about the way this country sees Indigenous people,” Lee writes in his new book, Nothing More of This Land, which was published last week. “Very few people ever say it, but I can always feel an unspoken ‘but I thought you were all dead’ in those moments.”

Throughout his book, Lee grapples with the question of what it means to be Indigenous. It’s a question intricately connected to climate change, Lee says, because it’s a question directly related to land. On Martha’s Vineyard, Lee’s community has long been saddled with the effects of colonization, which fuels both extreme gentrification and rising sea levels. Lee traces the history of his own tribal nation, reflects on being mixed race and living in diaspora, and envisions potential futures unencumbered by colonial constraints.   

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Q. How would you describe the connection between Indigenous identity and climate change? 

A. When you talk about Indigenous people, you have to talk about land. And right now, when you’re talking about land in any context, climate change is the looming backdrop. So many of the challenges Indigenous communities are facing may not be outwardly related to climate change, but they’re impacted by climate change. Fighting for water rights, which I would say is a sovereignty fight and a political fight, is made more difficult and the stakes are higher because of drought. Tensions around land ownership and what we do with our land are also made more complicated by climate impacts like rising sea levels and stronger storms that are eating away at our land. If you’re fighting over land and land you’re fighting over is shrinking because sea levels are rising, it makes that fight much more intense and much more urgent. You could look at salmon and the right to protect salmon and for subsistence lifestyles and all that’s becoming more complicated not just because of overfishing but because the way that salmon and other fish are impacted by warming waters and climate change. Any area of the story that you’re looking at, climate change is present. 

Q. I also grew up on an island that is a tourism hub, and in so many communities that’s often perceived as the only viable economic driver. Can you talk about what it feels like to be Indigenous in a land that’s become a tourism destination, and how that affects our communities? 

A. In this country, one part of the experience of being Indigenous, is the experience of erasure and of being ignored. That’s throughout history, through culture, through politics, through all these spaces. But I think especially in a place like Martha’s Vineyard, it’s even more extreme because the reputation of the place is so big and so specific. Being Indigenous, people are really often not listening to you. The more your land becomes a tourist destination, the harder it is for Indigenous voices to be heard, the harder it is for Indigenous people to hold onto the land. 

In a very concrete way, tourism typically drives property values up. It drives taxes up. And that makes it harder for folks to hold on to land that’s been in the family for generations. And that’s what’s happened in Martha’s Vineyard. Beyond that, I think tourism is just a really, really difficult and unfortunate choice that people have been kind of forced into. When so much opportunity has been taken away or denied from Indigenous communities in these places, tourism is often the only thing that’s left. So it can become like a choice between having nothing and contributing to tourism, which is probably ultimately harming the community and the land, but there’s no other way to make a living. So I think that’s just a really unfortunate reality.

Q. There’s a part in the book where you’re talking about how every time you say you’re from Martha’s Vineyard, people either assume you’re really rich or they think, oh, I didn’t realize that people live there. And that really resonated with me because when I say I’m from Saipan or Guam, people either don’t know what it is or they assume, ‘Oh, are you military?’ And then when I say I’m not military, they are confused. This is a long way of asking, what do you want people to know about your community and your tribe in particular, separate from the broader journey of this book? Is there anything that you wish people knew that this book could convey so that other tribal members don’t have to be on the receiving end of that question?

A. First, I hope that this will help to change the narrative of erasure that has existed about Wampanoag people for most of this country’s history. At the very least, I hope this helps people know that we exist — we’re here. And also, I like to think that it helps to show some of the complexity and diversity of my community: that we have disagreements, we have different perspectives, we have different talents, we live in different places.

Something else that your question made me think of was the question of audience. And I thought about that a lot. Even growing up within the tribe, there was so much just about my own community that I didn’t know. And so I try not to be judgmental of what people know, whether they’re Indigenous or not. And that’s how I really wanted to approach the book. I would hope that Indigenous and non-Indigenous readers can get something out of it, both in terms of learning things, but also hopefully seeing themselves in the pages and this exploration of figuring out who we are and where we want our community to go. 

Q. Another part that really resonated with me and I think a lot of Indigenous readers will relate to is the struggle of what does it mean to be Indigenous if you aren’t living on your land. I was wondering what you hope Indigenous readers will take away from the book in terms of understanding what distance from their land can mean for their identity. 

A. I hope that Indigenous readers will discover what I’ve discovered, which is that there are so many ways to engage with your homelands and your home community, even if you don’t live there. I used to think that I was only engaging if I was there with the tribe doing some cultural tribal event or something, and I realized that there are so many other ways of engaging. I don’t think any of us are less Indigenous because we live somewhere else.

For a long time I felt like if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worth it. If it wasn’t the perfect ideal of me participating in the tribe, I thought I shouldn’t do it. Ultimately what that led to is I just wasn’t doing anything because I didn’t have as many opportunities to go to these tribal gatherings or participate in tribal politics. And so I just did nothing and I felt the distance sort of growing over the years. What other people can do is realize that there are all these small ways to engage and to try to embrace those, and not let ideas of what it means to be Indigenous be defined by outsiders, or these big colonial structures like federal recognition, for example, or blood quantum.

Q. Why? What’s at stake? Why do you think it’s important for folks to embrace Indigenous identity and why is it important, particularly at this moment? 

A. Circling back to what we talked about at the beginning, we’re not going to be able to address these huge existential crises like climate change if we can’t be at least in some way united as a community, as a people. If we’re always fighting over who belongs and what does it mean to be Indigenous and saying that people are less Indigenous because of XYZ, that takes away our ability to tackle those bigger challenges. Right now we’re facing these serious challenges and that’s what we should be dealing with, so figuring this out is the first step. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Rising seas, vanishing voices: An Indigenous story from Martha’s Vineyard on Jul 22, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Anita Hofschneider.

The decision came directly on the heels of a Supreme Court order that greenlit the Trump administration’s efforts to downsize and restructure the federal government. 

With approximately 1,115 employees — just 7 percent of the EPA’s headcount at the start of President Donald Trump’s second term — the research office has played an outsized role in helping the agency fulfill its legal mandate to use the “best available science” in its mission to protect human health and the environment. ORD science has underpinned many of the EPA’s restrictions on contaminants in air, water, and soil, and formed the basis for regulations on per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, PFAS or “forever chemicals,” in drinking water, deadly fine particulate matter in air, carbon dioxide emissions in the atmosphere, and chemicals and metals like asbestos and lead.

“Without a research arm, it will be very difficult for EPA to issue new standards for air or water pollutants, toxic chemicals, pesticides, or other hazards,” said Michael Gerrard, faculty director of the Columbia University’s Sabin Center for Climate Change Law. 

ORD, which works with states, local governments, and tribes in addition to its federal work, has six national research programs, each one focused on a different aspect of health and the environment. Research being undertaken at those centers included studying how to safeguard water systems from terrorist attacks, understanding the impacts of extreme weather on human health, and modeling the economic benefits of reducing air pollution.

The EPA said it is moving some of ORD staff into other parts of the EPA, including into its air, water, and chemical offices and a new Office of Applied Science and Environmental Solutions within EPA administrator Lee Zeldin’s office. The agency said the moves will save taxpayers nearly $750 million, and produce an agency that closely resembles the shrunken version of the agency that existed under President Ronald Reagan in the early 1980s. The aim, the agency said, is to “prioritize research and science more than ever before.” 

In an email to Grist, an agency spokesperson called media reports about the disbanding of ORD “biased” and denied that the changes will affect the quality of EPA science. “Friday’s announcement is not an elimination of science and research,” the agency said. 

But former EPA employees and environmental advocates say disbanding ORD will both weaken the EPA’s research capabilities and put its scientific independence at risk of political interference.

“Part of the reason why ORD is a separate office is to preserve scientific integrity,” said Chris Frey, an associate dean at North Carolina State University who worked in the office on and off from 1992 to 2024, most recently as its Assistant Administrator under former President Joe Biden. “From a societal perspective, it’s a huge win for the public that those decisions be based on evidence and not just opinions of stakeholders to have a vested interest in an outcome.” The EPA hasn’t said how many ORD scientists will be allowed to continue working at the agency. 

Already, the U.S. regulatory system gives chemical companies like 3M and DuPont a large degree of influence over how the chemicals they produce are controlled, a strategy that has been known to fail. Under the Toxic Substances Control Act, or TSCA, the EPA has 90 days to assess a chemical’s risks before it hits the market. 

The EPA’s decision to dissolve ORD and integrate a portion of its scientists into the agency’s policymaking infrastructure stands to benefit chemical companies and industrial polluters by rubbing away the boundaries between science and politics, science advocates argue. Research conducted at ORD not only grounded new EPA regulations, it also provided the scientific basis for TSCA enforcement. 

“There’s lots of ways that ORD speaking truth about impacts of pollutants was inconvenient for regulated industry,” said Gretchen Goldman, president of the nonprofit science advocacy organization the Union of Concerned Scientists. “They’re probably celebrating over this.” 

Despite recent wins, industry trade and lobby groups are pushing for even more freedom. Last week, on the same day the EPA announced it was disbanding ORD and a day after the EPA separately exempted dozens of chemical factories and power plants from Biden-era air pollution and emissions rules, the American Chemistry Council’s President and CEO Chris Jahn floated the idea of making changes to the Toxic Substances Control Act in an interview with The Washington Examiner. 

“EPA Administrator Zeldin, the White House, Congress are all looking at this right now,” he said, “to potentially make some updates to TSCA to make it work more effectively for the long run.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline This EPA research office safeguarded Americans’ health. Trump just eliminated it. on Jul 21, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Zoya Teirstein.

The flash flooding in Texas would have been catastrophic at any time of day, but it was especially dangerous because it happened at night. Research shows that more than half of deaths from floods happen after dark, and in the case of flash floods, one study put the number closer to three-quarters. Other hazards are more perilous in the dark, too: Tornadoes that strike between sunset and sunrise are twice as deadly, on average, as those during the day. No one can stop the sun from rising and setting, but experts say there are simple precautions that can save lives when extreme weather strikes at night. As climate change supercharges floods, hurricanes, and fires, it’s becoming even more important to account for the added risks of nocturnal disasters.

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Stephen Strader, a hazards geographer at Villanova University, said that at night, it’s not enough to rely on a phone call from a family member or outdoor warning sirens (which Kerr County officials discussed installing, but never did). The safest bet is a NOAA radio, a device that broadcasts official warnings from the nearest National Weather Service office 24/7. One major advantage is that it doesn’t rely on cell service. 

“That’s old school technology, but it’s the thing that will wake you up and get you up at 3 a.m.,” said Walker Ashley, an atmospheric scientist and disaster geographer at Northern Illinois University.

Even with warning, reacting in the middle of the night isn’t easy. When people are shaken awake, they’re often disoriented, requiring additional time to figure out what’s happening before they can jump into action. “Those precious minutes and seconds are critical a lot of times in these situations for getting to safety,” Strader said. 

The darkness itself presents another issue. People tend to look outside for proof that weather warnings match up with their reality, but at night, they often can’t find the confirmation they’re looking for until it’s too late. Some drive their cars into floodwaters, unable to see how deep it is, and get swept away. It’s also harder to evacuate — and try to rescue people — when you can barely see anything. “I invite anybody to just go walk around the woods with a flashlight off, and you find out how difficult it can be,” Ashley said. “Imagine trying to navigate floodwaters or trying to find shelter while you’re in rushing water at night with no flashlight. It’s a nightmare.”

The logic applies to most hazards, but the night problem appears the worst with sudden-onset disasters like tornadoes and earthquakes — and the early-morning flash floods in Texas, where the Guadalupe rose 26 feet in 45 minutes. A warmer atmosphere can hold more moisture, meaning that storms can dump more water more suddenly than they used to. 

“We have essentially, because of climate change, put the atmosphere on steroids,” Strader said. It’s on his to-do list to study whether other disasters, like hurricanes and wildfires, are deadlier at night. 

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When Hurricane Harvey pummeled Texas with rain for days in 2017, people described waking up to water creeping into their homes; the Texas National Guard navigated rescue boats through neighborhoods in the dark, searching for survivors. In recent years, hurricanes have rapidly intensified before making landfall, fueled by warmer ocean waters. That shrinks the window in which forecasters can warn people a strong storm is coming. To compound the problem, at the end of July, the Pentagon plans to stop sharing the government satellite microwave data that helps forecasters track hurricanes overnight, leaving the country vulnerable to what’s called a “sunrise surprise.”

In the past, nighttime conditions have proved useful for slowing wildfires: Temperatures are cooler and the air has more moisture, reducing the likelihood of fires spreading quickly. But climate change is lessening these beneficial effects. The overall intensity of nighttime fires rose 7 percent worldwide between 2003 and 2020, according to a study in the journal Nature. That means fires are increasingly spreading late at night and early in the morning. It was an ultra-dry January night when the Eaton Fire began tearing through Altadena in Los Angeles County. Some residents were woken up in the predawn hours to smoke already in their homes, strangers pounding on their windows, or sheriff’s deputies and rescue volunteers driving by with loudspeakers.

While daytime tornado deaths have declined over time, nighttime fatalities are on the rise, Strader and Ashley have found in their research. (It’s still unclear as to how climate change affects tornadoes.) They found that tornadoes that touch down at night are statistically more likely to hit someone, simply because there are more potential targets scattered across the landscape. During the day, people are often concentrated in cities and sturdy office buildings versus homes, which may be manufactured and not as structurally resilient to floods or high winds. 

Night adds dimensions of danger to many types of disasters, but the darkness isn’t the only factor at play — and it doesn’t have to be as deadly, Ashley said, stressing the importance of getting a weather radio and making a plan in case the worst happens. “Have multiple ways to get information, and your odds of survival are extremely high, even in the most horrific tornado situation.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The surprising reasons floods and other disasters are more deadly at night on Jul 21, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Kate Yoder.

From afar, it would be easy, even tempting, to think that the floods like these could never happen to you. That the disaster is remote. 

It’s not. 

As details of the tragedy have come into focus, the list of contributing factors has grown. Sudden downpours, driven by climate change. The lack of a comprehensive warning system to notify people that the Guadalupe river was rising rapidly. Rampant building in areas known to flood, coupled with  incomplete information about what places might be at risk. ’ 

 These are the same elements that could trigger a Kerr County-type of catastrophe in every state in the country. It’s a reality that has played out numerous times already in recent years, with flooding in Vermont, Kentucky, North Carolina and elsewhere, leaving grief and billions of dollars in destruction in its wake. 

“Kerr County is an extreme example of what’s happening everywhere,” said Robert Freudenberg, vice president of energy and environmental programs at the Regional Planning Association. “People are at risk because of it and there’s more that we need to be doing.”

The most obvious problem is we keep building in areas prone to flooding. The Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, produces readily available maps showing high-risk locales. Yet, according to the latest data from the nonprofit climate research firm First Street Foundation, 7.9 million homes and other structures stand in a FEMA Special Flood Hazard Area, which designates a location with 1 percent or greater chance of being inundated in any given year.

FEMA Flood Zone Top Ten

In Louisiana, a nation-leading 23 percent of properties are located in a FEMA flood zone. In Florida, it’s about 17 percent. Arkansas, New Mexico and Nebraska are perhaps less expected members of the top ten, as is New Jersey, which, with New York City, saw torrential rain and flooding that killed two people earlier this month.

Texas ranks seventh in the country, with about 800,000 properties, or roughly 6.5 percent of the state’s total, sitting in a flood zone. Kerr County officials have limited authority to keep people from building in these areas, but even when governments have the ability to prevent risky building projects, they historically haven’t. Although one study found that some areas are finally beginning to curb floodplain development, people keep building in perilous places.

“There’s an innate draw to the water that we have, but we need to know where the limits are,” said Freudenberg. “In places that are really dangerous, we need to work towards getting people out of harm’s way.”

Kerr County sits in a region known as Flash Flood Alley and at least four cabins at Camp Mystic sat in an extremely hazardous “floodway” and numerous others stood in the path of a 100-year flood. When the Christian summer camp for girls underwent an expansion in 2019, the owners built even more cabins in the water’s path. 

“It’s an unwillingness to think about what future — and the present — have in store for us,” said Rob Moore, the director of the Water & Climate Team at the Natural Resources Defense Council, or NRDC, about Americans’ tradition of floodplain development. ”It’s a reluctance to own up to the reality we live in.” 

Many people don’t even know they are in harm’s way. According to NRDC, 14 states have no flood disclosure laws and, in eight, they deem the  laws ‘inadequate.’ FEMA maps are also flawed. For one, they can be politically influenced, with homeowners and communities often lobbying to be excluded in order to avoid insurance mandates and potential building costs. And experts say the science underpinning the maps is lagging too.

“[FEMA] only maps main river channels and coastal storm surge areas,” explained Jeremy Porter, the head of climate implications research at First Street Foundation. The agency, he added, specifically doesn’t model heavy rainfall, isn’t great about indicating the risk of urban flooding, and is behind on accounting for climate change. 

First Street Flood Zone Top Ten

First Street built a flood model that tries to fill in those gaps. It found that 17.7 million people are at risk of a 100-year flood, a number that’s more than double what FEMA’s hazard area covers.The state rankings also change, with mountainous areas susceptible to inland flash-flooding jumping up the list. West Virginia moves into first, with a staggering 30 percent of properties built in flood prone areas. Kentucky climbs from 19th to sixth.

Texas remains at seventh, but the portion of properties at risk goes to 15 percent. In Kerr County, FEMA’s maps showed 2,560 properties (6.5 percent) in a flood zone. First Street’s model nearly doubled that.

“There’s a ton of unknown risk across the country,” said Porter, who says better maps are among the most important goals that policy makers can and should work toward. First Street has partnered with the real estate website Redfin to include climate risk metrics in its listings. 

Rob Moore says political will is essential to making that type of systemic change when it comes to not only flooding, but other climate risks, such as wildfires or coastal erosion. Strengthening  building codes and restricting development in high-risk areas will require similar fortitude.

“Governments and states don’t want to tell developers to not put things in a wetland, not put things in a floodplain,” he said. “We should be telling people don’t put them in a flatland, don’t build in a way that your home is going to be more susceptible to wildfire.” 

Until then, hundreds of communities across the country could — and likely will — be the next Kerr County. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Kerr County’s tragic flood wasn’t an outlier. It was a preview. on Jul 21, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Tik Root.

“You need double the electric of what we have right now, and maybe even more than that,” Trump said, recalling a conversation with “David”—most likely White House AI czar David Sacks, a panelist at the summit. “I said, what, are you kidding? That’s double the electric that we have. Take everything we have and double it.”

At the high-profile summit on Tuesday—where, in addition to Sacks, panelists and attendees included Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei, Google president and chief investment officer Ruth Porat, and ExxonMobil CEO Darren Woods—companies announced $92 billion in investments across various energy and AI-related ventures. These are just the latest in recent breakneck rollouts in investment around AI and energy infrastructure. A day before the Pittsburgh meeting, Mark Zuckerberg shared on Threads that Meta would be building “titan clusters” of data centers to supercharge its AI efforts. The one closest to coming online, dubbed Prometheus, is located in Ohio and will be powered by onsite gas generation, SemiAnalysis reported last week.

For an administration committed to advancing the future of fossil fuels, the location of the event was significant. Pennsylvania sits on the Marcellus and Utica shale formations, which supercharged Pennsylvania’s fracking boom in the late 2000s and early 2010s. The state is still the country’s second-most prolific natural gas producer. Pennsylvania-based natural gas had a big role at the summit: The CEO of Pittsburgh-based natural gas company EQT, Toby Rice—who dubs himself the “people’s champion of natural gas”—moderated one of the panels and sat onstage with the president during his speech.

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All this new demand from AI is welcome news for the natural gas industry in the US, the world’s top producer and exporter of liquefied natural gas. Global gas markets have been facing a mounting supply glut for years. Following a warm winter last year, Morgan Stanley predicted gas supply could reach “multi-decade highs” over the next few years. A jolt of new demand—like the demand represented by massive data centers—could revitalize the industry and help drive prices back up.

Natural gas from Pennsylvania and the Appalachian region, in particular, has faced market challenges both from ultra-cheap natural gas from the Permian Basin in Texas and New Mexico as well as a lack of infrastructure to carry supply out of the region. These economic headwinds are “why the industry is doing their best to sort of create this drumbeat or this narrative around the need for AI data centers,” says Clark Williams-Derry, an energy finance analyst at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis. It appears to be working. Pipeline companies are already pitching new projects to truck gas from the northeast—responding, they say, to data center demand.

The industry is finding a willing partner in the Trump administration. Since taking office, Trump has used AI as a lever to open up opportunities for fossil fuels, including a well-publicized effort to resuscitate coal in the name of more computing power. The summit, which was organized by Republican senator (and former hedge fund CEO) Dave McCormick, clearly reflected the administration’s priorities in this regard: No representatives from any wind or solar companies were present on any of the public panels.

Tech companies, which have expressed an interest in using any and all cheap power available for AI and have quietly pushed back against some of the administration’s anti-renewables positions, aren’t necessarily on the same page as the Trump administration. Among the announcements made at the summit was a $3 billion investment in hydropower from Google.

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This demand isn’t necessarily driven by a big concern for the climate—many tech giants have walked back their climate commitments in recent years as their focus on AI has sharpened—but rather pure economics. Financial analyst Lazard said last month that installing utility-scale solar panels and batteries is still cheaper than building out natural gas plants, even without tax incentives. Gas infrastructure is also facing a global shortage that makes the timescales for setting up power generation vastly different.

“The waiting list for a new turbine is five years,” Williams-Derry says. “If you want a new solar plant, you call China, you say, ‘I want more solar.’”

Given the ideological split at the summit, things occasionally got a little awkward. On one panel, Secretary of Energy Chris Wright, who headed up a fracking company before coming to the federal government, talked at length about how the Obama and Biden administrations were on an “energy crazy train,” scoffing at those administrations’ support for wind and solar. Speaking directly after Wright, BlackRock CEO Larry Fink admitted that solar would likely support dispatchable gas in powering AI. Incredibly, fellow panel member Woods, the ExxonMobil CEO, later paid some of the only lip service to the idea of drawing down emissions heard during the entire event. (Woods was touting the oil giant’s carbon capture and storage business.)

Still, the hype train, for the most part, moved smoothly, with everyone agreeing on one thing: We’re going to need a lot of power, and soon. Blackstone CEO Jonathan Gray said that AI could help drive “40 or 50 percent more power usage over the next decade,” while Porat, of Google, mentioned some economists’ projections that AI could add $4 trillion to the US economy by 2030.

It’s easy to find any variety of headlines or reports—often based on projections produced by private companies—projecting massive growth numbers for AI. “I view all of these projections with great skepticism,” says Jonathan Koomey, a computing researcher and consultant who has contributed to research around AI and power. “I don’t think anyone has any idea, even a few years hence, how much electricity data centers are gonna use.”

In February, Koomey coauthored a report for the Bipartisan Policy Center cautioning that improvements in AI efficiency and other developments in the technology make data center power load hard to predict. But there’s “a bunch of self-interested actors,” Koomey says, involved in the hype cycle around AI and power, including energy executives, utilities, consultants and AI companies.

Koomey remembers the last time there was a hype bubble around electricity, fossil fuels, and technology. In the late 1990s, a variety of sources, including investment banks, trade publications, and experts testifying in front of Congress began to spread hype around the growth of the internet, claiming that the internet could soon consume as much as half of US electricity. More coal-fired power, many of these sources argued, would be needed to support this massive expansion. (“Dig More Coal—The PCs Are Coming” was the headline of a 1999 Forbes article that Koomey cites as being particularly influential to shaping the hype.) The prediction never came to pass, as efficiency gains in tech helped drive down the internet’s energy needs; the initial projections were also based, Koomey says, on a variety of faulty calculations.

Koomey says that he sees parallels between the late 1990s and the current craze around AI and energy. “People just need to understand the history and not fall for these self-interested narratives,” he says. There’s some signs that the AI-energy bubble may not be inflating as much as Big Tech thinks: in March, Microsoft quietly backed out of 2GW of data center leases, citing a decision to not support some training workloads from OpenAI.

“It can both be true that there’s growth in electricity use and there’s a whole bunch of people hyping it way beyond what it’s likely to happen,” Koomey says.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Trump and the energy industry are eager to power AI with fossil fuels on Jul 20, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Molly Taft, WIRED.

In the end, the industry breathed a small sigh of relief after the Senate reached a compromise that would, at least in principle, give new projects a slim window to go ahead. Under the final law, wind and solar projects that begin construction by July 4 of next year are eligible for the full federal tax credits. Halfway through that window, a new requirement kicks in: Projects that begin construction after January 1, 2026, can only keep the tax credits if they follow restrictions on the use of Chinese materials.

That could still upend New York’s renewable energy transition.

Federal tax credits have typically covered almost a third of the cost of building a solar or wind farm. That’s made them “critical to financing and ultimately building renewable energy projects,” said Carl Weatherley-White, interim chief financial officer at the development firm Greenbacker, which is currently building New York’s largest solar farm and has several smaller projects in the works. “It’s been a core part of the business for 20 years.”

The bill will also impact New York’s public power authority, NYPA, which this year issued a plan to put up more than three gigawatts’ worth of solar and batteries, and has been counting on federal tax credits to deliver.

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Developers now have less than a year to start digging if they want the subsidies. The impending deadline is lighting a fire under the industry — and, developers hope, under New York’s leaders, too.

“Now, the game is in the states,” said Marguerite Wells, executive director of the renewable energy lobbying group Alliance for Clean Energy New York. “I would say there’s many thousands of megawatts’ worth of wind and solar in upstate that would be eligible to fall into that start of construction if we played the cards right.”

For a start, there are 26 permitted but unbuilt wind and solar projects in the state, which in total could unlock about 3,000 megawatts’ worth of energy — enough to power some half a million homes. Only two of the large projects the state has approved in the last four years have even started construction; one of them was completed in late 2024, more than six years after filing its first paperwork. (The most recent permit was issued last week, but most of the permits date back to 2023 or earlier.)

The problem? The state doesn’t make it easy to move quickly. It normally takes years for wind and solar projects just to get permits to begin construction in New York, despite reforms intended to speed up the process. The rest of the approval process can take years, too. More environmental reviews are required even after the main permit is approved. And it’s just as complicated getting approval to connect to the grid.

All told, at least three different sets of regulators have to weigh in before a company can put shovels in the ground. That makes New York far more restrictive than other states in allowing developers to start building.

There are things the state could do to speed things up, like allowing developers to start construction even while they finalize certain details of their projects, but it’s largely in Governor Kathy Hochul’s hands.

Jolting the process forward would require a concerted push across her agencies. Besides permits, building a wind or solar farm in New York requires a contract with the state’s energy research and development arm, NYSERDA, guaranteeing that the developer will get paid for the energy the facility produces. Sometimes it requires the state Department of Environmental Conservation to weigh in on water quality plans, with additional input from the US Army Corps of Engineers. And it requires the state’s grid operator — which acts independently — to assess the impact and cost of connecting the facility to the grid.

Developers need answers from all of those entities before they can break ground, Wells said: “Every last whisper of detail of the project has to be finalized before they generally let you start construction.”

In her eyes, improving coordination between all of New York’s energy regulators is the single biggest thing the state could do to help move construction forward.

It’s not yet clear how committed Hochul is to the effort.

“The Governor has directed the state’s energy agencies to conduct a high-level review of the federal legislation and specific impacts to New Yorkers,” spokesperson Ken Lovett told New York Focus, when asked whether the Hochul administration shared developers’ goal of accelerating construction.

Before most developers even had a chance to fully digest the changes coming down from Congress, Trump threw in another gut punch. Last week, he issued an executive order directing the Treasury Department, which enforces tax credit rules, to revisit how it defines a project’s “start of construction.”

That throws even the megabill’s one-year deadline into doubt. Historically, developers have been allowed to qualify for tax credits by proving either that they’ve started physical construction or spent a certain amount of money. Now, Trump has given federal regulators 45 days to revise those definitions.

The specific definitions that the Treasury adopts could prove decisive in some cases. But whatever exact language the administration lands on, the bottom line is that Trump still has significant leeway to kill wind and solar projects if he’s committed to it, said Advait Arun, senior associate for energy finance at the think tank Center for Public Enterprise.

“Simply, I think Trump is trying to use control over the IRS to exercise his judgment about what projects should proceed and what shouldn’t,” he said.

Trump will have even more sway after the end of this calendar year, when additional requirements kick in. Starting in January 2026, developers hoping to claim tax credits will have to abide by restrictions on sourcing from “Foreign Entities of Concern,” including those connected to the Chinese government. The megabill tasks the Treasury with updating those rules, giving Trump another opportunity to crack down on what he’s called the “Green New Scam.”

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It all adds up to shaky terrain for renewable developers, even those who stand a chance of getting shovels in the ground within a year.

“The big concern … is that no matter what we do, someone in the Treasury is going to just say no,” said Weatherley-White, of Greenbacker, speaking to New York Focus a few hours before Trump issued his executive order last week. (Reporting earlier this month had already suggested that the construction rules could be in the crosshairs.)

Neither Weatherley-White nor Wells, of ACE NY, responded to follow-up inquiries about the order.

Unless the Trump administration completely upends what counts as the “start of construction,” there’s still a lot New York could do to help more projects get in under the one-year bar.

For example, in many states, wind and solar developers can begin construction on projects that don’t have all of their final approvals, but have the main elements of their design — like the location of roads and buildings — agreed upon, Wells said. But in New York, that initial green light is hard to get. It would make a big difference if the state were to adopt the practice more readily, she said.

New York could also jumpstart the contracting process for wind and solar projects. Close to half of the state’s permitted but unbuilt projects had contracts that were canceled after post-pandemic inflation upended their finances. Over the last year, the state has announced new contracts for dozens of projects in this situation, but others remain in limbo.

NYSERDA had plans to kick off a fresh round of wind and solar contracting by the end of June, but it’s behind schedule. A spokesperson said the agency would begin the process by the end of September.

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Those nitty-gritty steps are unlikely to change, though, unless Hochul makes it a priority. The governor could direct agencies to fast track permitting or contracts, as she did with offshore wind a couple of years ago. She has lately shown a keen interest in cutting red tape for other forms of energy — specifically, a nuclear plant that she has tasked NYPA to build by 2040. (There, though, the key approvals need to come from the Trump administration rather than her own.)

Her Department of Environmental Conservation also appears to be speeding along a revived pipeline project that would bring gas into New York City and Long Island. The agency said earlier this month that it had received a complete application from the pipeline company and opened a 30-day comment period with no public hearing. The notice came just five weeks after it was revealed that the state would reconsider the previously abandoned project — reportedly as part of a deal with the Trump administration to allow a major offshore wind project to move ahead, though Hochul’s office has denied a quid pro quo.

Renewable developers, by contrast, can spend years applying and reapplying for permits before they’re allowed to proceed to a mandatory, 60-day public comment period.

“If we’re cutting red tape for other forms of energy, we should cut red tape for renewable energy, too,” Wells said.

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Whether any wind or solar projects remain viable in New York after the federal tax credits expire remains an open question. Although Trump has framed his efforts as rolling back Biden-era policies, solar and wind tax credits date as far back as the 1970s, and have remained largely steady since 2005.

Some, like Weatherley-White, remain optimistic that the renewable industry can learn to live without them.

“The renewable energy industry has adapted to lots of changes over time,” he said, suggesting that developers could find ways to cut costs to cushion the blow from losing the tax credits.

“Unfortunately, there will be losers and winners,” Weatherley-White continued. “I think we’re going to see some short-term pain. But in the long run or medium term, let’s say, I think people will adapt and succeed.”

The labor coalition Climate Jobs NY struck a similarly bullish tone in a statement earlier this month. “With or without the support from our federal lawmakers, union workers in New York will find ways to build the pro-worker clean energy economy we need,” the group wrote.

Others see the glass half empty. Arun said that a key part of how the industry hoped to bring down costs was by using tax credits to build momentum and standardize the development process.

“If you can’t build, there’s no standardization or lowering costs through economies of scale,” he said. “And that’s what I’m really worried about.”

Hochul’s office, too, is striking a sober note.

“The federal budget bill slashes the very tools states need to achieve energy independence and economic growth,” Lovett said, “and no state will be able to backfill the massive cuts they face across so many key areas.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The race to build solar and wind in New York before Trump’s tax credit deadline on Jul 19, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Colin Kinniburgh.

The Kill Step

By Alleen Brown July 18, 2025

In March 2024, a jury ordered the environmental giant Greenpeace to pay $666 million to the companies behind the Dakota Access pipeline.

The companies argued that Greenpeace was responsible for protests near the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation nearly a decade ago that drew thousands.

But Indigenous leaders, water protectors, activists, and court records agree: Greenpeace played a bit part in the Standing Rock movement, at best.

“They’re trying to point the finger at Greenpeace,” said Honorata Defender, a Standing Rock Sioux tribal member who helped start the movement.

“Because God forbid some Indians think for themselves and make a decision to stand up for themselves and their water and their land.”

• Chapter 1 “They’re waiting for someone to wink.”
• Chapter 2 “What the hell is this bullshit?”
• Chapter 3 “We’ll stand with you. You’re going to fight this.”
• Chapter 4 “How many of you feel the same way?”
• Chapter 5 “It’s part of the treaty.”
• Chapter 6 “We believed that to be true.”
• Chapter 7 “They’re scumbags.”

Robyn Beck / AFP via Getty Images

They called themselves “water protectors” and began protesting on the side of a highway near where construction was approaching the river. Most were Oceti Sakowin — Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota peoples. It was the early days of the #NoDAPL movement, in August 2016, and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers had just granted a key permit for the Dakota Access pipeline to go under the Missouri River.

The company behind the pipeline, Energy Transfer, had originally considered building it upstream of the twin cities of Bismarck and Mandan in North Dakota, which are mostly populated by white people. But the Army Corps of Engineers rejected that route, in part because it had the potential to harm the cities’ drinking water supply. Instead, the pipeline was rerouted to cross the river just north of the Standing Rock reservation’s own drinking water intake.

To Dave Archambault, then-chairman of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, this was a case of environmental racism. He and other tribal leaders were worried, too, that culturally important sites located along the pipeline route could be destroyed.

It was also a matter of sovereignty. Two days after the Army Corps issued that key permit to Energy Transfer for the new route, the tribe sued. They argued that the Army Corps should not allow construction to continue without a deeper review of the route and substantial consultation — a cornerstone of federal Indian law that recognizes the nation-to-nation relationship between tribal governments and the United States.

When small protests began, the corps had still not issued an easement, a legal right that would allow Energy Transfer to build under the river on land that belonged to the U.S. government. However, there was nothing stopping Energy Transfer from building on private land. That’s when the trouble started.

Chairman Archambault was one of more than a dozen people arrested that August for attempting to block Dakota Access pipeline construction, but there was little attention paid by journalists. Online, however, in Indigenous digital spaces, protests were becoming very visible, very quickly. Facebook Live had launched that spring, and water protectors were broadcasting their actions on social media in real time for the world to see and attracting Indigenous peoples from around the country to stand with Standing Rock.

As more and more water protectors made their way to North Dakota, Achambault realized he would need help. He put out a public call to action, asking people to stand with Standing Rock. He also called Nick Tilsen, an Oglala Lakota organizer who had helped found a collective called the Indigenous Peoples Power Project, or IP3, which offered nonviolent, direct-action trainings to Indigenous peoples working to protect their communities, including from unwanted industrial development.

“The training that we’re talking about is not some crazy training,” said Tilsen, who saw the protests as an extension of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and ‘60s. “Some people think that Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks just one day sat on a bus and launched a movement. But the reality is, they went through training. And that training helped them be disciplined and helped them be effective and helped them change the course of history.”

With protests underway, Tilsen worked with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe to develop a set of principles for nonviolent direct action — protest actions and acts of civil disobedience meant to disrupt activities. At times, nonviolent direct action involves trespassing or disregarding police orders. The principles were hand-painted on a sign that hung prominently in the growing camp. Among them: “We are nonviolent,” and “Property damage does not get us closer to our goals.”

Tilsen was close with a Greenpeace employee named Cy Wagoner who is Diné and also a member of IP3, and Tilsen said he invited Wagoner to bring Greenpeace to Standing Rock. “We asked them to help train people,” Tilsen recalled. Around the same time, Tom Goldtooth, who is Diné and Dakota, was also urging Greenpeace to come. The executive director of the nonprofit Indigenous Environmental Network, Goldtooth was watching as tensions between police, private security, and water protectors intensified throughout the month. “I’m afraid of escalation,” recalled Goldtooth. “They’re waiting for someone, you know, to wink.”

Like Tilsen, Goldtooth hoped that Greenpeace would reinforce trainings already in progress, and send support for water protectors, such as a solar trailer that could power laptops and cell phones so that broadcasts could continue across social media.

Wagoner put together a proposal and a budget request for Greenpeace, which was approved: About $15,000 would pay for five people from IP3 to go to Standing Rock for two to three weeks. Greenpeace agreed to pay the cohort $125 a day, plus expenses, to conduct trainings, while Wagoner went on his usual Greenpeace salary. They began arriving around the beginning of September.

Meanwhile, the week before Labor Day, Tim Mentz — Standing Rock’s former tribal historic preservation officer and one of the people responsible for reviewing federal projects that may impact historic areas, burial sites, and religious places — began a survey of an area Energy Transfer planned to bulldoze. He was looking to see if there were culturally important sites along the pipeline path.

Mentz is a highly respected elder, and the first tribal historic preservation officer in the U.S. thanks to his tireless work to amend the National Historic Preservation Act that created the role — one that is now used by over 200 Indigenous nations. 

As part of Standing Rock’s lawsuit against the Army Corps filed in July, Mentz had already submitted a statement to the court saying that “destruction of these sites will eventually destroy generations of family connections to these areas of spiritual power.” He added that protecting those sites wasn’t just about the past: It was about the future of the Oceti Sakowin.

“Steps taken to preserve sites like this are important to the survival and recovery of our spiritual traditions,” he wrote. “These sites still retain the ability to mend our people.” 

On a hot, bright day, with permission from the landowner, Mentz and his team drove onto the privately-owned buffalo ranch that included access to the area where Energy Transfer wanted to drill under the river, and Mentz got to work. Over the course of a few days, they documented 27 burial sites and 82 stone features — arranged in circles and other patterns for ceremonial purposes — all along a 2-mile corridor that Energy Transfer planned to dig up. 

On the Friday before Labor Day, he wrote up what he found, including a cluster of stones shaped like the Big Dipper, with a grave site attached to the cup, indicating an important leader. “This is one of the most significant archaeological finds in North Dakota in many years,” he wrote. The tribe’s attorney, who worked for a nonprofit public interest law organization called Earthjustice, filed the coordinates Mentz identified with a North Dakota Court.

The next morning, the Saturday before Labor Day, bulldozers were spotted at the sites Mentz had identified and that the tribe had filed in court. Water protectors rushed to stop them but private security guards stood waiting, and their dogs lunged at the pipeline opponents.

Despite their attempts, Energy Transfer graded the 2-mile corridor Mentz surveyed, digging a foot deep into the earth. “A significant portion of the site we’d surveyed had been cleared,” Mentz wrote in another declaration to court. “I do not believe that the timing of this construction was an accident or coincidence.”

A judge ruled soon after that he didn’t have the power to stop the company from continuing to build on private land. 

However, the images of security dogs attacking pipeline opponents transformed the movement. Recorded by nonprofit news organization Democracy Now!, the dog attacks were broadcast around the world and quickly went viral. People poured in, mushrooming new resistance camps across the prairie and filling them with Indigenous peoples, longtime environmental organizers, and everyday activists moved by the social feeds coming out of Standing Rock. Church members, community groups, and individuals donated money and supplies to keep the camps afloat. A school opened for families with children and kitchens opened to feed the growing number of water protectors.

Nonprofits began to join the fight too, including Tom Goldtooth’s Indigenous Environmental Network, 350.org, Bold Alliance, and Greenpeace.

The story of Standing Rock is relatively well-known from here: The governor of North Dakota called in the National Guard, which joined law enforcement officers from around the U.S. and private security contractors hired by the pipeline company in an effort to disperse protests. For more than six months, water protectors faced off against military-grade armored vehicles, surveillance drones, at least one sniper, police with semi-automatic rifles, a surface-to-air missile launcher, tear gas, rubber bullets, flash-bang grenades, and water cannons deployed in sub-freezing weather.

While a vast majority of water protectors, including Greenpeace employees, abided by the nonviolent, direct-action principles IP3 and the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe posted in camp, not all agreed. Some pipeline opponents set fire to bulldozers and vandalized construction equipment. Some fought back against police, throwing rocks, logs, water bottles, and even Molotov cocktails. 

In February 2017, soon after Donald Trump’s first presidential inauguration, the Army Corps gave the green light for Energy Transfer to begin drilling under the river. By late February, security forces moved in and removed water protectors camped near Standing Rock. Energy Transfer bored a hole underneath the Missouri River for the pipeline to be pushed through, effectively ending the fight.

Robyn Beck / AFP via Getty Images

Chapter 2

“What the hell is this bullshit?”

In February 2017, as security forces prepared to evict water protectors from their camps, TigerSwan — a private security firm contracted by Energy Transfer — began emailing with the law firm Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher.

The firm had been representing Energy Transfer as it attempted to convince a federal court to dismiss the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s claims against the Army Corps. Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher would eventually declare victory against Greenpeace in the $666 million lawsuit.

TigerSwan had spent months spying on water protectors by monitoring social media feeds, listening in on radio communications, flying drones, and monitoring camps by helicopter. It sent infiltrators — people pretending to be water protectors — into the anti-pipeline camps to gather information. Founded in 2008 by a former commander of an elite special operations unit known as Delta Force, TigerSwan’s security contractors had cut their teeth during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. At Standing Rock, it brought those “war-on-terror” tactics home.  

Files obtained through a public records request reveal that TigerSwan was not only providing the intelligence it collected to law enforcement, but it was also preparing to provide some of the information it gathered on water protectors to the law firm Gibson Dunn, including a set of spreadsheets listing crowdfunding pages, how much each had raised, and who was involved, as well as spreadsheets matching protest actions with individual water protectors, labeled “named conspirators.” The company asked one of its infiltrators to identify what groups pipeline opponents belonged to. And it asked another contractor to send over the makes and models of vehicles that showed up at certain protests.

That record request also revealed a purpose of the communications between TigerSwan and Gibson Dunn: a RICO lawsuit. Gibson Dunn was considering using the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, or RICO — a law originally developed to go after the mafia — to target anti-pipeline activists and organizers, and had turned to Energy Transfer’s mercenary private security firm, TigerSwan, to help. TigerSwan did not respond to a request for comment.

Months later, in August of 2017, Deepa Padmanabha, the senior legal advisor for Greenpeace in the U.S., learned that Energy Transfer was suing the environmental organization in federal court, alleging violations of the RICO Act. “This one came as a very big surprise just because the Greenpeace entities had such little involvement with anything associated with Standing Rock,” she said.

Padmanabha called it a SLAPP suit — a Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation — which is designed not necessarily to win, but to drain opponents of resources and discourage them from speaking out. SLAPP suits are meant to set an example, and when successful they can be extremely effective.

Gibson Dunn is known to excel at aggressive lawsuits. The firm also has a history of helping big corporations avoid accountability for harming the environment or undermining Indigenous peoples’ rights — including arguing to gut the Indian Child Welfare Act in 2023.

In 2007, banana workers in Nicaragua won a multimillion-dollar lawsuit in the U.S. against the Dole fruit company for poisoning them with a pesticide called DCBP. To combat the win, Dole hired Gibson Dunn. They alleged a vast conspiracy in which the banana workers’ attorney had recruited fake banana workers to go after the fruit company. There were multiple holes in the story that later came to light, but to the American judge who presided over the conspiracy case, it didn’t matter: The money awarded to the workers was taken back.

Dole’s general counsel at the time gave the strategy a name: the “kill step.”

The kill step worked by not only targeting the plaintiffs, but also going after their lawyers, supporters, and media. It destroyed the story being told and replaced it with a new one. Perhaps the most well-known application of the kill step by the law firm was for Chevron. In Ecuador, the homelands of several tribes, including the Cofan, Secoya, and Kichwa, had been contaminated by abandoned pits of oil waste, and in 2011, they won an $18-billion lawsuit, holding the oil giant Chevron accountable. The settlement was reduced by the Ecuadorean Supreme Court to $9.5 billion in 2013. Chevron, in turn, filed a RICO complaint in the U.S. against the lawyers who argued the case, including attorney Steven Donziger, claiming that they had contaminated witnesses, behaved unethically, and maybe even bribed a judge.

There were a number of issues with Chevron’s case, but the company won. Over the next few years, Chevron and Gibson Dunn kept going after Donziger. He ended up on house arrest for two years and in jail for 45 days for a contempt of court charge. Meanwhile, the oil is still contaminating water in the Ecuadorian Amazon — and, like the banana workers in Nicaragua, the Ecuadorians still haven’t been able to collect the settlement awarded to them.

When Padmanabha got word Greenpeace was being sued, she wasn’t just confused as to why the organization was being sued, she was also confused by the timing. Oil was already flowing through the Dakota Access pipeline — the company had gotten what it wanted. But there was a clue: “We were already dealing with another massive SLAPP suit filed in federal court.”

In 2016, before Standing Rock, a law firm called Kasowitz Benson Torres had filed a RICO suit against Greenpeace on behalf of a timber company called Resolute Forest Products. The lawsuit claimed that Greenpeace Canada’s anti-logging campaign, which targeted Resolute, amounted to racketeering, defamation, and tortious interference. In 2017, the Kasowitz law firm filed a second lawsuit against Greenpeace, this time on behalf of Energy Transfer.

“The complaints looked very similar,” said Padmanabha. “It was the same allegations of a RICO conspiracy, and it was the same attempt to scare us into silence and bankrupt us.”

Ultimately, the RICO suit didn’t live long. A federal judge dismissed it in the winter of 2019, writing: “This is far short of what is needed to establish a RICO enterprise.” But Energy Transfer quickly filed a new version of the lawsuit in North Dakota state court, using local conspiracy law to tie the claims together.

Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher would eventually take over the case. In a statement, a spokesperson for Kasowitz, Shannon O’Reilly, wrote: “The firm spearheaded Energy Transfer’s suits against those who wrongfully targeted these projects, and we are gratified that Energy Transfer ultimately achieved such a successful result.”

In the North Dakota iteration, the lawsuit’s primary targets were Greenpeace, two individual pipeline opponents named Cody Hall and Krystal Two Bulls, and a group called the Red Warrior Society. All were accused of conspiring together to propel the anti-pipeline movement. The company also alleged that the conspiracy was spread throughout Greenpeace-affiliated organizations, including Greenpeace Inc., which carries out U.S. based campaigns; Greenpeace Fund, also based in the U.S., which raises money for certain Greenpeace efforts; and Amsterdam-based Greenpeace International, which licenses out the Greenpeace name to independently operated nonprofits around the world and coordinates some of their activities.

The lawsuit included three buckets of claims. There were on-the-ground, protest-related damages for things like trespassing and destruction of construction equipment. There were defamation claims, alleging that Greenpeace and the other defendants lied by accusing Energy Transfer of deliberately desecrating sacred sites and putting the pipeline on tribal lands, and accusing police and private security of being violent toward nonviolent water protectors. And finally, Energy Transfer alleged tortious interference — essentially, that those defamatory statements damaged the company’s relationship with banks.

Those accused weren’t the only ones impacted by the lawsuit. Subpoenas went out demanding people and organizations hand over documents or testify in front of lawyers. Energy Transfer subpoenaed Water Protectors Legal Collective, a group that provided legal support to pipeline opponents, and Unicorn Riot, a media collective that broadcast hours of footage of police violence. It also subpoenaed Standing Rock’s former tribal historic preservation officer Tim Mentz. Across the water protector community, fear began to spread that anyone and everyone could be dragged into the lawsuit.

However, two people at the heart of the case — Greenpeace’s alleged co-conspirators Cody Hall and Krystal Two Bulls — never received official notification of the lawsuit. Months went by, then years. In legal filings, Energy Transfer said they’d attempted to serve Hall at a home in South Dakota where his parents lived briefly a decade before, but the knock Hall expected at his door didn’t come. At one point, Hall got so stressed about it he called Energy Transfer. “I said, ‘You guys say you can’t serve me. I’m sitting here at home. Serve my ass. So what the hell is this bullshit?’” A receptionist took his number but he never heard back.

Helen H. Richardson / The Denver Post via Getty Images

Chapter 3

“We’ll stand with you. You’re going to fight this.”

Greenpeace was founded just as the contemporary environmental movement was taking off in the 1970s. What set the organization apart from others at the time was dramatic protest actions at sea: Greenpeace activists zoomed little boats in between whaling ships and harpoons, risking their lives to save whales. From the very beginning, Greenpeace was ardently opposed to any kind of violence. Still, governments and companies began to label its activities as ecoterrorism.

“I don’t think there’s any credible examples of anything remotely like something you could describe as ecoterrorism in Greenpeace’s history,” said Frank Zelko, a historian at the University of Hawai‘i who wrote a book on the organization called Make It a Green Peace!. “Unless you reframe ecoterrorism as a bunch of people just blocking bulldozers or hanging a banner between a couple of chimneys.”

It’s important to note that Greenpeace’s efforts to save wildlife at times took aim at Indigenous peoples and practices. For example, an anti-seal-hunting campaign Greenpeace launched in the 1970s destroyed subsistence living for a number of Indigenous communities and a major income stream for many Indigenous nations. By the 1990s, activities like those began to get pushback. 

“We challenged the white organizations back in the early 1990s with environmental racism,” said Tom Goldtooth of the Indigenous Environmental Network. “Greenpeace stepped up.”

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In 2017, when the RICO lawsuit hit Greenpeace, Goldtooth was in touch with the organization again. “We said: ‘Hey man, this is mucked up. We’ll stand with you. You’re going to fight this.’” But by 2024, as the lawsuit looked like it would go to trial, it became less and less clear that Greenpeace actually would fight Energy Transfer.

Management for Greenpeace in the U.S. assessed that they had a 5 percent chance of winning. If this went to trial, they determined that Greenpeace as they knew it might cease to exist.

Then, around the winter of 2024, Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher reached out to Greenpeace with a settlement proposal: Energy Transfer would drop the lawsuit if the organization put out a statement. Greenpeace would have to indicate that there was violence during the Standing Rock movement, that the pipeline did not pass through the Standing Rock Sioux’s land, and that the company did not deliberately destroy sacred sites. In other words, they’d have to refute the statements that Energy Transfer had claimed as defamation. 

The statement Energy Transfer wanted Greenpeace to make “would have been a lie,” Goldtooth said.

Over the next few months, Greenpeace leadership deliberated over the settlement offer. A worst-case trial scenario could mean the loss of a 50-year legacy and could scuttle Greenpeace’s future impact. It could put up to 135 staff members out of work and risk dismantling the organization’s global network. It could cause reputational damage to the Standing Rock Sioux, allies, and other activists who would be forced to testify, and it could set a legal precedent for suing movement organizations out of existence. The best-case trial scenario: Greenpeace would lose, but would be able to say that it went down fighting. Some in the organization concluded that this trial scenario would be catastrophic. 

A worst-case settlement, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as bad to some. It could cause a public relations crisis, and Greenpeace might lose a few million dollars a year in funding. Some staff might resign, and Indigenous peoples and nations might stop working with the organization. The statements that Greenpeace would have to sign could also be used by Energy Transfer to go after the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. But Greenpeace would live to fight another day. 

Managing the worst-case scenario of a settlement became the option Ebony Twilley Martin, Greenpeace’s newly appointed executive director, and several senior managers supported.

However, the view was not shared by everyone, and the question of the settlement began to divide the organization. 

Multiple people high up in the organization strongly opposed Energy Transfer’s settlement proposal. For example, Deepa Padmanabha resigned as deputy general counsel because she disagreed with senior management’s position on the settlement, according to sources close to Greenpeace. Staff members who got wind of the possibility of settlement organized a letter to the board, expressing their own concerns. Meanwhile, Twilley Martin met with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe about the possibility of settling.

“It would’ve hurt us, no doubt,” current Standing Rock Chairwoman Janet Alkire said of the settlement. “ We’d have to fight against that too. Again, lies. It’s not true.” However, she said she viewed the decision as Greenpeace’s to make.

Tom Goldtooth also spoke with Twilley Martin on the phone multiple times. He said he knew she was under a lot of pressure, but he was clear in his conversations with her about what it would mean for Greenpeace to accept Energy Transfer’s terms. “This would end our relationship with you, with Greenpeace,” he said he told her. “It was that serious. This is a life and death issue to our Indigenous peoples. This is a life and death issue to life itself, to water, to the river.”

Goldtooth said that Twilley Martin was quiet. “I feel it hit her hard.”

Ultimately, it was up to Greenpeace’s board to decide. “It was clear for us that it was a hell no,” recalled Niria Alicia Garcia, a Greenpeace Inc. board member. To Garcia, the survival of Greenpeace was not the most important thing on the line, but she said it made sense to her that certain people did want to accept the settlement.

“When you’re an eight-figure, big legacy, big green, you are going to have to hire people who know how to keep a 501(c)(3) viable and afloat,” she said, referring to nonprofit organizations that are tax-exempt under Section 501(c)(3). “And at the same time, you’re going to need to hire people who are fully aligned and ready to embody the mission. That is the forever tension in nonprofits that exist to be in service to the movement.”

In the spring of 2024, the board voted to reject the settlement proposal. It came at a cost: Ebony Twilley Martin, the first Black woman to serve as Greenpeace’s executive director, hailed as a “historic first” in the environmental movement, left the organization. Padmanabha ultimately rejoined the U.S. organizations as senior legal adviser.

A spokesperson for Greenpeace in the U.S., Madison Carter, wrote in a statement: “Difficult conversations are a common byproduct of risk assessment exercises, and this case is no different.” She added: “SLAPP lawsuits like the one we are facing from Energy Transfer are intended to divide movements and drain resources, which is why it is paramount that we remain as prepared as possible for any and all outcomes.”

Twilley Martin declined to comment. 

Garcia, the Greenpeace board member, said, “I’m proud that we stuck to our values and decided to stay true to the spirit and the mission and the purpose of why Greenpeace ever came to exist.” She added, “At the end of the day, nonprofits are discardable; they are revocable; they are replaceable — and the movement is not. Relationships are not.”

North Dakota’s Morton County District Court set a date for trial: February 24, 2025.

Michael Nigro / Pacific Press / LightRocket via Getty Images

Chapter 4

“How many of you feel the same way?”

Jury selection began on a chilly morning last February. “I want to congratulate you on being chosen for jury duty,” said Judge James Gion to the pool of potential jurors. “It is one of the highest obligations and privileges of our democratic system.”

Gion, a judge of 10 years, presided over the Stark County District Court in rural western North Dakota, more than 90 miles away from Morton County, where the suit was filed. Every judge in the entire South Central Judicial District of North Dakota, in which Morton County sits, recused themselves from the case due to conflicts of interest.

Over the next two days, two sets of around 30 potential jurors, selected from the local populace, would answer questions from the lawyers. Each side of the lawsuit aimed to select jurors who would be most favorable to their case, and they sought to convince the judge to eliminate people too biased to be fair.

As lawyers questioned the jury pool, a pattern emerged: Multiple potential jurors said that hearing about the Standing Rock protests reminded them of what they called “the disruption in our community.” One woman put it plainly: “I think you’ll have a tough time finding people completely unbiased on that, because it affected everyone.”

Greenpeace’s lawyer, Everett Jack, asked the group: “How many of you feel the same way?”

All but a handful of people raised their hands. 

About five months before jury selection began, an unusual newspaper, Central ND News, began showing up in people’s mailboxes. Sandwiched between articles criticizing then-presidential candidate Kamala Harris and analyzing the dangers of “illegal aliens” were recollections about the Standing Rock protests a decade before. Most were unpleasant. 

One headline read, “Former Dakota Access pipeline protester: ‘We ended up creating a local ecological disaster.’”

Another said, “THIS MONTH IN HISTORY, OCTOBER 2016: Area schools locked down as authorities respond to pipeline protests.”

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Central ND News is part of a company called Metric Media, which includes dozens of locally-oriented media sites that have been labeled as part of a “pay-for-play” network. For a price, that network has allowed corporate executives and political operatives to order up articles and have them distributed to specific audiences. These latest stories were apparently aimed at residents of Morton County, where the Standing Rock protests took place — and from which the jurors were selected. According to court filings, a murky trail of funds connects Energy Transfer’s board chair Kelcy Warren to the newspapers. Metric Media did not respond to a request for comment.

When Jack, Greenpeace’s lawyer, asked about the newspapers, a potential juror pulled out a copy he had brought with him. “I thought it was kinda weird that I got that,” he said. “It brought back memories. I agree with it that what happened down there wasn’t good.”

Greenpeace had already attempted to get the trial moved to another county, arguing that the Morton County jury pool would be too biased to decide the case fairly. In a survey the organization commissioned from the National Jury Project, a consultancy that does jury research, 97 percent of respondents gave answers indicating bias against Greenpeace, or, in a few cases, Energy Transfer.

Many of the potential jurors also had financial links to the fossil fuel industry. One of them, labeled juror 14 by the court for the sake of anonymity, said he didn’t think the case was right for him because he worked in the petroleum industry. He added that he would be uncomfortable ruling against his industry, and that he would be less likely to believe Greenpeace’s witnesses than Energy Transfer’s. Juror 14 also revealed that he had a family member in law enforcement who policed the protests. When Greenpeace’s lawyers asked for him to be removed from the pool, Energy Transfer’s lawyer, Trey Cox, pushed back. 

“If the judge instructs you that the law requires you to only consider the evidence in this courtroom and to treat all the parties fairly, are you able to follow the judge’s instruction and be fair to all parties?”

“Yes, I believe I can be,” the man replied. 

Juror 14 was allowed to stay.

After two days, the jurors were announced: a man who worked at a gasification company; another who oversaw two power facilities and told lawyers that “my job depends on fossil fuels” during the selection process; a woman whose family received royalties for oil on their land; and three women whose husbands had ties to the oil and gas industry. One woman’s husband also worked for a security company hired by Energy Transfer, as well as the contractor that drilled under the Missouri River, though she added that she didn’t think he worked at those places during pipeline construction. 

In the end, seven of the 11 jurors and alternates revealed economic ties to the fossil fuel industry. Nobody on the jury identified themselves as Indigenous. 

Opening arguments began the next day.

Robyn Beck / AFP via Getty Images

Chapter 5

“It’s part of the treaty.”

“Here they are,” explained the Gibson Dunn lawyer, Trey Cox, standing before a flat-screen television. “These are the Greenpeace six. Not a single one of them lives in this community. These people are professionals.”

On the screen flashed headshots of six people, all employees of Greenpeace Inc. 

“They embed in a location, then they escalate,” he said. “They thought they could do it in secret — they thought that we wouldn’t be smart enough to figure out what they did.”

“Today starts the day of reckoning,” he concluded.

Energy Transfer’s first witness was a towering bald man with an American flag pin on the lapel of his suit. Mike Futch was the project manager for the North Dakota section of the Dakota Access pipeline. Cox asked him about violence perpetrated by private security — like the now-infamous dog attacks.

“The only violence was when protesters came onto private property and attacked us,” Futch said. “We were always in retreat.”

According to Futch, the property damage that occurred at construction sites was intentionally violent: Pipeline opponents cut hydraulic hoses, booby-trapped equipment, filled gas tanks with sand and gravel, spray-painted cabin windows, and busted equipment gauges.

His testimony was backed up over the next few days by five law enforcement officers who agreed that the protesters were the violent ones, not security. “Violent” incidents ranged from water protectors blocking a road during a Thanksgiving Day protest in the town of Mandan, to death threats received by the now-deputy chief of the Bismarck Police Department, whose family eventually left home for a few days at the suggestion of the FBI. Captain Brian Steele testified that he got hit in the back with a big rock. Steele’s assessment: “We were probably too nice.”

It was defamation, according to Cox, for Greenpeace to say that police and private security used violence against nonviolent protesters.

On day five, Energy Transfer started playing video depositions from Greenpeace employees. On screen, Davy Khoury, a Greenpeace warehouse worker, explained how he spent hours driving on country back roads following the proposed path of the pipeline. According to his deposition, he was scouting — collecting information about what was happening with construction and passing it back to Indigenous organizers in the camps.

Energy Transfer’s lawyers displayed one of Khoury’s emails, written to another Greenpeace employee in October 2016: “The company has a place where all their toys are stored near in the Bismarck area,” Khoury wrote. He suggested a protest strategy. “If the entrances were blocked, it would be very hard for them to get to the job sites.” 

The other Greenpeace employee responded, “I just sent 30 straight boxes down,” referring to lockboxes — plumbing pipes that protesters use to lock themselves to each other.

Greenpeace lawyers later pointed out that the protest Khoury suggested likely never happened.

In total, six Greenpeace employees visited Standing Rock during the protests — the Greenpeace Six, according to Cox — sometimes staying for a few days, sometimes for a few weeks. They all worked for Greenpeace Inc., and not the other two Greenpeace-affiliated organizations named in the suit — in fact, no one from either of the other Greenpeace groups even visited Standing Rock at all. 

During their time at Standing Rock, those six employees delivered supplies, built structures, and helped the Indigenous Peoples Power Project, or IP3, train people in nonviolent direct action. In his video testimony, Nick Tilsen estimated that IP3 trained somewhere between 5,000 and 10,000 people over the course of the Standing Rock protests. Lawyers also showed that Greenpeace employees did directly participate in some protest actions; however, Tilsen stated that no one from Greenpeace led those actions, while acknowledging that his friend from Greenpeace, Cy Wagoner, helped with some planning. Rather, it was people from the area who set the agenda.

Energy Transfer alleged that Greenpeace provided funding for Standing Rock to the tune of $55,000, and that the organization’s executive director at the time, Annie Leonard, helped direct a handful of foundations to donate an additional total of $90,000 to the movement.

The impact of that support, along with a defamatory information campaign, according to Gibson, Dunn, & Crutcher, was huge: Energy Transfer spent $7 million on PR firms to deal with the protests. An additional $8.5 million went toward buying the most controversial land: the ranch where Tim Mentz found the 27 burial sites and 82 stone features. The company paid contractors $14.5 million for changes to construction plans and lost another $96.4 million when Energy Transfer delayed the refinancing of loans associated with the pipeline. The pipeline was supposed to start pumping oil in January 2017 but couldn’t until June, costing the company another $80 million.

As the trial proceeded, none of the law enforcement witnesses or Energy Transfer personnel who had been on the ground seemed to know much about Greenpeace. According to public records and testimony in court, Greenpeace hardly ever appeared in the daily intelligence reports written by the private security firm TigerSwan. Of more than 1,700 pages of police operations briefings during Standing Rock, Energy Transfer’s lawyers pointed to only one that described a Greenpeace employee at a protest. 

According to Sheriff Kyle Kirchmeier, up to 10,000 people were in the camps at the height of the protest. In his testimony, Kirchmeier said he believed they showed up to Standing Rock because the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s chairman, Dave Archambault, put out a public call and invited people to the prairie — that the real catalysts were the dog attacks, the explosion of social media coverage, and that people believed the pipeline was located on the tribe’s unceded territory. 

“It’s part of the treaty,” Kirchmeier said.

The tribe’s treaty is a big reason why the pipeline’s operation was delayed from January 2017 to June. The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s lawsuit against the Army Corps of Engineers was filed well before the camps began to grow. Under pressure from Standing Rock and other Indigenous nations, the Army Corps denied the easement that December, ordering a deeper environmental review first. In other words, for most of the months in which people protested, August 2016 to February 2017, Energy Transfer did not have permission to drill. That permission didn’t come until after Donald Trump came into office, in February 2017.

Energy Transfer and its lawyers were intimately familiar with this timeline. By November 2016, Gibson Dunn was representing the company as it attempted to push the Army Corps for permissions. And by December, the law firm had helped Energy Transfer draft a memorandum urging President Trump’s transition team to advance an executive order for the Army Corps to grant the easement.

In the end, Energy Transfer’s lobbyist in D.C. even prepared a draft of the executive order, and soon after Trump was inaugurated, he signed and issued it, directing the Army Corps to deliver an easement.

“Y’all were able to start drilling under the lake within minutes of getting that easement, right?” a Greenpeace lawyer asked Energy Transfer’s board president Kelcy Warren during a video deposition.

“Shortly thereafter, yes sir,” said Warren with a laugh.

The Standing Rock Sioux Tribe does play a major role in the true story of Energy Transfer’s Dakota Access pipeline easement. In the months after the pipeline was installed under the river, the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and other Indigenous nations continued pushing for a federal court to shut the pipeline down. In June 2017, a judge ruled that the Army Corps would have to redo parts of its environmental review. The legal back-and-forth dragged on for years.

Energy Transfer’s banks took note. In court, Energy Transfer alleged that Greenpeace’s divestment campaign, and its defamatory lies, forced the company to delay refinancing a loan, which cost them $96.4. However, meeting minutes from Energy Transfer’s board of directors, described in court, indicate that the company actually decided to hold off on refinancing due to banks’ concerns about the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s ongoing legal battle — not Greenpeace.

“This is all a bunch of bullshit,” said Doug Crow Ghost, the tribe’s head of water resources, of the Greenpeace lawsuit. Crow Ghost noted that the tribe took in $11.7 million in donations related to the pipeline protests. Greenpeace’s $55,000 and $90,000 in foundation funding was meager by comparison.

But no Standing Rock member testified in the Greenpeace trial. As a rule, the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe doesn’t go to state court: The state has no jurisdiction over the nation due to federal Indian law.

Robyn Beck / AFP via Getty Images

Chapter 6

“We believed that to be true.”

Up until October 2023, Energy Transfer claimed that Greenpeace also committed defamation when it said the pipeline would poison the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s water and that the pipeline would catastrophically alter the climate. In order to prove those claims, Energy Transfer would have to turn over internal documents to show how safe the pipeline really was.

However, the company sought to avoid handing over the pipeline safety records and dropped the claims. But Greenpeace didn’t drop its requests for the files — and as they continued to fight about it, some documents became public record. 

A report commissioned by Greenpeace, based on field reports and completed in January 2024, found that Energy Transfer’s contractors allowed 1.4 million gallons of drilling mud to disappear into the hole they bored under the riverbed. Drilling mud is a clay and water mixture combined with chemical additives, used to lubricate a drill and carry away fragmented earth. Oil companies usually describe drilling mud as non-toxic, but at times it has been found to include harmful pollutants, and it can hurt delicate ecosystems. The authors, from an engineering firm called Exponent, found that the drilling mud was supposed to flow back out of the tunnel and onto the shore to be stored in an excavated pit. But some of it never did. Enough drilling mud to fill two Olympic-sized swimming pools disappeared into the environment.

Energy Transfer has gotten in trouble in the past for using unapproved additives in its drilling mud. During pipeline construction in Pennsylvania, the company leaked thousands of gallons of drilling mud into wetlands, creating sinkholes and polluting tap water. Energy Transfer’s subsidiary Sunoco pleaded no contest to 14 criminal counts related to the spills. In Ohio, the same year the Dakota Access pipeline was completed, Energy Transfer leaked another 2 million gallons of drilling mud into the environment as it built a different pipeline — some was laced with diesel.

The spill described in the Exponent report was news to the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, despite its years of raising questions and concerns about pipeline safety. So in October 2024, when the tribe filed its latest lawsuit against the Army Corps, the lawyers cited the drilling mud report as one of many reasons that the pipeline should finally be shut down. Standing Rock’s lawsuit was dismissed in March, although the tribe has appealed. 

Energy Transfer alleged that Greenpeace committed defamation by accusing the company of deliberately destroying sacred sites. At the heart of that claim is the word “deliberate” and whether or not, on September 3, 2016, the company intended to destroy the sites. Court documents, public records, and testimony at trial paint a hazy picture of just how those sites were handled.

Tim Mentz’s survey began by Tuesday, August 30, and lasted through Thursday, September 1. That same week, Energy Transfer emailed police to inform them that their construction crew was moving east toward the river, according to a record displayed during the trial. Because of the company’s concerns about protests, sharing construction information with police was a routine practice at the time. The company’s schedule, which it outlined in an email, suggested that the bulldozers wouldn’t arrive in the area with the sacred sites until after September 8. 

On September 2, 2016, after Mentz identified the sites, Mike Futch, the project manager for the North Dakota section of the Dakota Access pipeline, sent out his construction manager and a security guy to investigate. “We concluded that the features that Mr. Mentz had identified were outside the limits of the disturbance that we had planned,” Futch said on the stand. 

According to Futch, construction crews were able to avoid any stones on the edge of the right-of-way. That analysis, Futch said, allowed him to sidestep calling in the company’s archaeology specialists. The company saw no reason to call the Standing Rock Sioux, either. 

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Energy Transfer’s bulldozers arrived at the site the next morning — Saturday, September 3, on Labor Day weekend — more than six days earlier than what it had indicated in the schedule sent to police days before. Public records obtained from the Morton County Sheriff’s Office confirm that that morning, the company moved its bulldozers at least 15 miles east to the area that Mentz had been working in. 

That the bulldozers were moved out of order on a holiday weekend is a key reason the tribe and water protectors believe that Energy Transfer deliberately destroyed the sites. So exactly when Energy Transfer decided to bulldoze the area matters. 

“Yes, we did advance and do some out of sequence work,” Futch told the court. Not because of the sacred sites, he said, but only to get ahead of a powwow planned for the area: The crews wanted to be out of way before new people arrived on top of the protesters already present.

Futch said several law enforcement officers, including Morton County Sheriff Kyle Kirchmeier, were notified of the change in plans — something Kirchmeier denied, saying he was unaware the bulldozers would be in that area. Normally, he added, his office was notified of construction plans, but not this time.

The dog handlers were surprised, too, according to police reports obtained from the sheriff’s office. The owner of Frost Kennels, Bob Frost, told police that Energy Transfer had asked the company to bring the dogs out around mid-September when a ruling in Standing Rock’s lawsuit against the Army Corps was expected. The security workers anticipated that the dogs would be patrolling a fence around a construction site, and one worker said he thought they’d be joined by two police officers per dog handler. Instead, Bob Frost found out in the middle of Friday night, only hours after Earthjustice filed the coordinates, that they needed to show up with dogs the next morning at 10 a.m. 

While Energy Transfer’s defamation claim focused on the word “deliberate,” the company has also disputed that there were any sacred sites at risk at all. “Apparently a guy named Mentz came up with a story,” the former Energy Transfer Vice President Joey Mahmoud said in an email at the time.

In court, Gibson Dunn lawyers and the company’s witnesses pointed to a report from the chief archaeologist of the North Dakota State Historic Preservation Office, Paul Picha, who concluded that “no cultural material was observed in the expected corridor. No human bone or other evidence of burials was recorded in the inventoried corridor.” 

Picha was deposed by lawyers, but the interview wasn’t shown in court. He said that his assessment didn’t actually mean much about the truth of Mentz’s claims.

“So if the North Dakota State Historic Preservation Society says something isn’t a cultural site, that doesn’t mean it isn’t a cultural site to the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, correct?” asked one of the lawyers.

“Yes,” Picha replied.

Energy Transfer’s own archaeology contractor, Gray & Pape, concluded in a separate report, obtained via a public records request, that four of Mentz’s sites were in the path of the pipeline. The archaeologist, Jason Kovacs, reported that those four stones didn’t show signs of being archaeological sites and that there was no ground disturbance there — although one of the stones was covered in dirt.

However, Kovacs clarified what he meant when he was deposed for trial. He told lawyers, “I’m not qualified to assess what is cultural property or not,” and he confirmed that the company had no Indigenous specialists on staff.

“The vast majority of the times, we have no access to the tribal perspective,” said Kovacs. “My assessment of an archaeological site has to be on the archaeology itself, and that’s where I leave it. It may have further significance, but that’s, you know, not archaeological.”

His testimony was never aired for the jury. 

Energy Transfer’s lawyers presented what appeared to be its key evidence that Greenpeace International defamed the corporation. In November 2016, an organization called BankTrack asked banks to divest from the Dakota Access pipeline, noting that the company’s personnel deliberately desecrated documented burial grounds and other important cultural sites. The letter was signed by 500 organizations, including Greenpeace International.

“Does Greenpeace International stand by that?” Trey Cox asked Mads Christenson, Greenpeace International’s executive director.

“We believed that to be true at the time, and we still do,” Christensen replied.

“Wouldn’t you have to talk to Energy Transfer to understand their state of mind?” asked Cox.

“Our understanding was very clear from the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and allies that a number of concerns about sacred sites had been pointed out that were later desecrated and destroyed.”

Christensen added, “If you’re aware of the fact and still go ahead, then it must be deliberate.”

Stephen Olson / Getty Images

Chapter 7

“They’re scumbags.”

“Do you have any personal knowledge about anything Greenpeace did at all in relation to the protests?” a lawyer asked.

“No,” said Kelcy Warren, Energy Transfer’s board chair and largest shareholder — who was CEO when the Dakota Access pipeline was constructed.

Warren took the stand on March 13, via a pre-recorded video deposition. It was the final day of testimony.

While the board chair had no recollections about Greenpeace, he did have memories about the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. In 2016, Warren approached Chairman Dave Archambault to make a deal. “I went there with the intention of working out a financial transaction,” Warren said. Long before Greenpeace went to court, before the conspiracy lawsuits began, and before Trump’s executive order greenlighting the pipeline, Energy Transfer tried to pay off the tribe.

At the height of the protests, Warren and Archambault sat down to talk. “I said, ‘David, I’m here to make a deal with you. Let’s go. Do you want cash? What do you want?’” Warren first offered Archambault the ranch the company bought, the one that held the sacred sites identified by Mentz. “We could build you a whole new school on your reservation. Let’s make a deal,’” Warren urged.

“And he says, ‘I can’t do it,’” Warren recalled. “He made it very clear he could not accept any offer from me that involved them backing down.”

“It was clear to me that he had struck a deal with the devil,” Warren said.

“And the devil being Earthjustice?” the lawyer replied.

“Yes,” said Warren.

Earthjustice is a nonprofit public interest law organization that represented the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe in the early part of its court fight against the Army Corps of Engineers. It is not connected to Greenpeace: It is not an affiliate, a subsidiary, or even funded by the organization.

“They’re scumbags,” Warren said, of Earthjustice.

“I read between the lines, and I believe that they made a deal, and Archambault couldn’t make a deal with me,” he continued.

In a statement, Archambault explained the meeting. “I was there to discuss safety — not to negotiate an end to the protests.” When Warren asked what it would take to stop the movement, Archambault said, “I explained that it was no longer in my control. The fight against the pipeline had become much bigger than Standing Rock; it was about Indigenous rights and the long history of injustice faced by our people.”

In court, the lawyer asked, “Nothing was said about Greenpeace during that meeting, was it?” 

“Not that I recall,” Warren replied.

In Warren’s understanding, the Standing Rock Sioux were the entity to negotiate with when it came to ending the protests and pushing the pipeline through — not Greenpeace. According to his testimony, the tribe’s refusal to take a deal revealed that Standing Rock had sold out to its law firm, Earthjustice — not Greenpeace Inc., Greenpeace Fund, or Greenpeace International. 

On the next day of court, during closing statements, Cox revealed the true extent of what Energy Transfer was demanding from the Greenpeace organizations. The lawyers said that $266 million would compensate Energy Transfer for their expenses — but they wanted triple that, in order to set an example. 
Two days later, the jury returned its verdict. Greenpeace Inc. was liable for all of the on-the-ground damage claims. Greenpeace Inc. and Greenpeace International were guilty of conspiracy, and all three Greenpeace organizations committed tortious interference, as well as defamation when they made their assertions on police violence, tribal territory, and desecration of sacred sites.

The total damages amounted to over $666 million.

Outside the courtroom, Cox, the Energy Transfer lawyer, posed with a huddle of attorneys from Gibson Dunn. He wore an American flag pin on the lapel of his suit, while his colleagues wore sunglasses. “Greenpeace paid protesters and trained individuals to unlawfully disrupt the construction of the Dakota Access pipeline,” he said. “These are the facts, not the fake news of the Greenpeace propaganda machine.”

He added, “Peaceful protest is an inherent American right; however, violent and destructive protest is unlawful and unacceptable. This verdict clearly conveys that.”

The Greenpeace employees and water protectors looked on, stunned.

Energy Transfer and Gibson Dunn did not provide responses to detailed questions related to the case. Instead, they provided a statement saying that the verdict was a win for North Dakotans who faced disruption and harassment during the protests.

“That the disrupters have been held responsible is a win for all of us,” the spokesperson wrote. “It is also a win for all law-abiding Americans who understand the difference between the right to free speech and breaking the law.”

Greenpeace is preparing to appeal once the court issues a final judgment.

“ What this really is an attempt to do is to destroy the idea of solidarity,” said Deepa Padmanabha, the senior legal advisor for Greenpeace in the U.S., in an interview with Grist and Drilled. “By working together, by uplifting voices, by showing support, by showing up, by communications, you somehow could face hundreds of millions of dollars of lawsuit. Because this idea of a movement, of people working together in solidarity, is actually more powerful than the dollar.”

Asked if the organization regretted not taking the settlement, Padmanabha said, “There was no choice.”

“Is our existence our ultimate mission? Just the existence of an entity?” she asked. “Or is there something in our mission that’s bigger than that?”

The Center for Media and Democracy supported document review for this article.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Standing Rock was an Indigenous-led movement. Why did Greenpeace take the fall? on Jul 18, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Alleen Brown.

But there’s going to be a new mine in East Tennessee — one of a few slated across the country, their permits expedited by President Donald Trump’s declaration of an “energy emergency” and his designating coal a critical mineral.

Trump was only hours into his second term when he signed an executive order declaring a national energy emergency that directed federal agencies to “identify and exercise any lawful emergency authorities available to them” to identify and exploit domestic energy resources. The administration also has scrapped Biden-era rules that made it easier to bring mining-related complaints to the federal government.

The emergency designation compresses the typically years-long environmental review required for a new mine to just weeks. These assessments are to be compiled within 14 days of receiving a permit application, limiting comment periods to 10 days. The process of compiling an environmental impact statement – a time-intensive procedure involving scientists from many disciplines and assessments of wildlife populations, water quality, and other factors –  is reduced to less than a month. The government insists this eliminates burdensome red tape.

“We’re not just issuing permits — we’re supporting communities, securing supply chains for critical industries, and making sure the U.S. stays competitive in a changing global energy landscape,” Adam Suess,  the acting assistant secretary for land and minerals management at the Interior Department, said in a statement. A representative of the Office of Surface Mining Reclamation and Enforcement told Grist that community safety is top of mind, pointing to the administration’s $725 million investment in abandoned mineland reclamation.

The Department of Interior ruled that the Hurricane Creek Mine slated for Claiborne County, Tennessee, would have “no significant impact” and approved it. It will provide about two dozen jobs. The strip mine will cover 635 acres of previously mined land that has reverted to forest. Hurricane Creek Mining, LLC plans to pry 1.8 million tons of coal from the earth over 10 years.

The Clearfork Valley, which straddles two rural counties and has long struggled economically, bears the scars of more than a century’s underground and surface mining. Local residents and scientists regularly test the creeks for signs of bright-orange mine drainage and other toxins.

The land is part of a tract the Nature Conservancy bought in 2019 for conservation purposes, but because of ownership structures in the coalfields, it owns only the land, not the minerals within it. “We have concerns about the potential environmental impacts of the operation,” the organization said in a statement. “We seek assurance that there will be adequate bonding, consistent and transparent environmental monitoring, and good reclamation practices.”

Matt Hepler, an environmental scientist with environmental advocacy group Appalachian Voices, has been following the mine’s public review process since the company applied for a permit in 2023. He remains skeptical that things will work out well for Hurricane Creek. Despite Trump’s promise that he is “bringing back an industry that’s been abandoned,” coal has seen a steady decline, driven in no small part by the plummeting price of natural gas. The number of people working the nation’s coal mines has steadily declined from 89,000 or so in 2012 to about 41,300 today. Production fell 31 percent during Trump’s first term, and has continued that slide. 

“What is this company doing differently that’s going to allow them to profitably succeed while so many other mines have not been able to make that work?” he said. “All the time I’ve been working in Tennessee there’s only been a couple of mines permitted to begin with because production has been on the downswing there,” Hepler added. 

Economists say opening more mines may not reverse the global downward trend. Plentiful, cheap natural gas, along with increasingly affordable wind and solar, are displacing coal as an energy source. The situation is so dire that one Stanford University study argued that the gas would continue its climb even with the elimination of coal-related regulations. Metallurgical coal, used to make steel — and which Hurricane Creek hopes  to excavate — fares no better. It has seen flat or declining demand amid innovation in steel production.

Expedited permits are leading to new mines in the West as well. The Department of Interior just approved a land lease for Wyoming’s first new coal mine in 50 years. Ramaco Resources will extract and process the material in order to retrieve the rare earth and other critical minerals found alongside it. The Trump administration also is selling coal leases on previously protected federal land. Shiloh Hernandez, a senior attorney at the Northern Rockies office of the environmental nonprofit Earthjustice, thinks it is a fool’s errand.

“I don’t see them changing the fundamental dynamics of coal,” he said. “That’s not to say that the Trump administration won’t cause lots of harm in the process by both making the public pay more money for energy than they should and by keeping some of these coal plants and coal mines that really are zombies.”

Still, Hernandez said he isn’t seeing many new permits, just quicker approval of those already in the pipeline. That said, the Trump administration’s moves to streamline environmental review will reduce oversight and the time the public has to scrutinize coal projects.

“The result is there’s just going to be it’s going to be more difficult for the public to participate, and more harm is going to occur,” Hernandez said. “There’s going to be less attention to the harm that’s caused by these operations.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Trump is fast-tracking new coal mines – even when they don’t make economic sense on Jul 18, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Katie Myers.

Lucas and her husband live over 100 miles away in New Braunfels, but they drove to the unincorporated riverside town of Hunt to “put a good 12-hour day in and try to put a dent in any of this,” in Celbi’s words. The work was personal: She lost a second cousin, Reese Manchaca, to the floods. Manchaca, a 21-year-old college student, was visiting Hunt for the holiday with three of her friends when floodwaters overwhelmed the cabin they’d rented. In the disaster’s solemn aftermath, Texas officers arranged a procession to escort Manchaca’s body back to her hometown in Montgomery County, 300 miles away, so she could be laid to rest.

Another volunteer, Bryan Hill, has been driving two hours each way from his ranch in nearby Kimble County to volunteer. Hill, who is a road construction worker for the city of Austin, felt compelled to help after watching news coverage; he was helping operate heavy equipment to clear debris. 

“I’ve just seen everything on TV,” he said. “It bothers me. If I see somebody in need or something, I want to help.”

At least 134 people lost their lives in the flash floods that overwhelmed Hunt, Ingram, Kerrville, and other communities along the Guadalupe River earlier this month. Those who survived tell harrowing stories of clinging to electric poles, trees, and rooftops as the river raged around them. The camera crews may have left, but helicopters continue to buzz overhead, an army of volunteers is traversing the river banks, and the county is considering draining a lake in an effort to find the more than 160 people who have been reported missing.

Volunteer efforts were delayed by more rain and a flash flood watch over the weekend. For about two days, the county ordered that all volunteer search and rescue operations halt as river levels rose yet again. On Monday, Kerr County Sheriff Larry Leitha said the search for the missing could take up to six months. 

The larger rebuild and recovery process will likely take much longer. Several river crossings on the roads in and out of Hunt have been ripped apart by fast-flowing waters. The trees along the river banks are bowed, having succumbed to the force of the river, and littered with blankets, clothes, and the wreckage of people’s lives. Mattresses, refrigerators, debris, and other belongings from flooded homes are piled all along Highway 39, the main road that runs along the Guadalupe and through Hunt. 

Hunt is an unincorporated town of roughly 1,100 people in the heart of Texas’ Hill Country in western Kerr County. The region is so named because of its rolling hills, rugged terrain, and dramatic escarpments. While the community of permanent residents is small, the population of the town increases over the summer when vacationers camp and hike along the river. RV parks and cabins dot the river banks, and the region relies on tourism and recreation for revenue. Many residents of nearby Austin and San Antonio maintain second homes in the area. In fact, officials have had a difficult time estimating the number of missing people in part because many were visiting from out of town. 

Although the region has been in a severe drought for the past several years, it’s no stranger to flash floods. In 1932, about 20 years after the town’s founding, the river rose 36 feet and Hunt “was washed away in a flood,” according to a webpage maintained by the Kerr County Historical Commission. The Guadalupe has flooded several times since then — including in 1987, an event locals refer to as “the big one.” 

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Nevertheless, the conditions that powered the recent floods had all the hallmarks of a changing climate. As the Gulf has warmed, it has increased the amount of moisture in the atmosphere, and with it the potential for intense rainfall. The storm that caused the floods dumped 2 to 4 inches of rain over Kerr County every hour; given the region’s limestone deposits, which don’t absorb water, the rainfall had nowhere to go but down. The region’s extended drought, which had left the soil dry and compacted, didn’t help either. Hillsides turned into runoff channels, and the Guadalupe swelled up and outward, hundreds of feet beyond its banks. 

Many of Hunt’s part- and full-time residents have left the devastated town, but some have stayed — or returned — to assess the damage. On Wednesday afternoon, LeAnn Levering was spraying a wooden table with vinegar in a desperate attempt to save it from mold. The table, built by her ex-husband and cherished by her children, sat on the front porch along with all the salvageable possessions from her cabin. The house had been inundated with five feet of water as the Guadalupe swelled in the early morning of July 4. The river rose furiously, climbing several dozen feet up a hill before spreading another 300 or so feet across the land to reach the cabin. Levering, a psychotherapist who primarily lives near Austin, was fortunate not to be staying in the cabin that weekend. When she and her son arrived a couple of days later to assess the damage, she found dead fish and sewage backflow amid the wreckage. 

“We’re so high up this hill — it should never have happened,” Levering said. “I understand we’re in a flash flood alley but not this high. This is just bizarre.”

The floods arrived too quickly for many of those present to evacuate. Douglas Bolduc’s family, which owns three of the neighboring cabins and was staying in one of them, retreated to a loft as the floodwaters overwhelmed the home. They were eventually rescued and taken to higher ground. Another one of the family’s cabins was pulled off of its foundation and into the raging river.

“It’s a pile of rubble over there in the field,” Bolduc told Grist, pointing to a large open meadow.

While the flash flood itself was unavoidable, the region’s devastating death toll was exacerbated by the limits of cell-phone-based warning systems. Unlike neighboring communities, Kerr County was not equipped with sirens or other alarm systems to alert residents when the river rose in the middle of the night. The county sent phone alerts to those who had signed up through its CodeRED initiative, but it did not use FEMA’s Integrated Public Alert and Warning System, which sends blaring alerts to all cell phones in a region, until after the most devastating flooding. 

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Bolduc himself was in Colorado during the floods, but he returned to help rebuild the homes with his sister. Volunteers had helped empty out the homes, power wash the floors, and set up blowers to dry them out.

“We didn’t lose anybody,” Bolduc said of his family. “All we lost was stuff. And stuff can be replaced.”

Levering and Bolduc, who do not have flood insurance to cover their homes in Hunt, will be shouldering the cost of rebuilding their cabins on their own. (Nationally, only 4 percent of homeowners have flood insurance; in Kerr County, that figure is only 2.5 percent.) Bolduc’s family plans to dip into savings to rebuild, while Levering is planning on looking into low-interest loans. She estimates rebuilding will cost at least $100,000 and hasn’t yet investigated if any form of assistance might be available from FEMA or any other government entity.

“I have no idea,” she said. “I haven’t had time for paperwork.”

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster. Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline After deadly flash floods, a Texas town takes halting, painful steps toward recovery on Jul 17, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Naveena Sadasivam.

He’s seen it serve as an economic lifeline for small farmers, especially the state’s poultry producers who operate on thin profit margins.

But the program, known as REAP, has faced a series of setbacks under the Trump administration. Nearly $1 billion in funding was frozen for months, farmers have heard nothing about applications filed last fall — and now a window for new applications that was supposed to open July 1 was closed at the last minute.

Meanwhile, the most common use case for REAP grants, helping farmers install solar, is under direct threat from the administration. A recent U.S. Department of Agriculture document outlining its Make Agriculture Great Again agenda says that, going forward, REAP ​“will disincentivize funding for solar panels on productive farmland.”

The 2022 Inflation Reduction Act infused REAP with over $2 billion, but those funds will soon run out, meaning the program will likely revert to the lower funding level of $50 million per year ensured by the current iteration of the federal Farm Bill.

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“We’re not looking at an IRA-like opportunity for REAP again any time soon,” said Lloyd Ritter, founder of the clean-energy policy consultancy Green Capitol. He helped draft the original REAP program as senior counsel for former Sen. Tom Harkin (D-Iowa).

A slowdown in REAP funding would be a blow to the thousands of American farmers who use the program nationwide, forcing them to spend more money to meet their energy needs. And the efforts to block REAP funds from solar projects in particular would both stymie the growth of clean energy in rural areas and hamper what’s become a key source of income for farmers.

“This program has been key to helping people who don’t have a lot of assets make a change and provide some cash flow for their family,” said Everly, who has assisted with REAP grants to turn manure into biofuel, grow vegetables year-round in indoor enclosures, and add ​“desperately needed” energy efficiency to poultry barns.

A boon and bust

The 2002 Farm Bill created the program now known as REAP; it was given its current name under the 2008 Farm Bill.

For more than two decades, the program has offered loan guarantees and grants to farmers and rural small businesses, as well as doled out grants to organizations that provide applicants with technical assistance.

Under the Farm Bill, REAP grants reimbursed recipients for up to a quarter of a project’s cost. The IRA increased reimbursement to up to 50 percent of a project’s cost.

USDA data shows that more than $1 billion in IRA REAP funding was awarded in over 6,800 grants to farmers and rural small businesses between fiscal year 2023 and the first quarter of fiscal year 2025, according to an analysis by the Environmental Law & Policy Center, with 80 percent of the grants going to Republican House districts.

Congress allocated IRA funds for REAP applications through 2031, though the funding will likely run out long before then. Federal data shows that about half of IRA REAP funds have already been obligated.

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President Donald Trump froze over $911 million in REAP funds with his Day 1 executive order targeting IRA programs. His administration lifted the freeze in late March and has yet to make another attempt at clawing back already-promised IRA REAP funds, as some advocates had feared would happen — especially for solar projects.

Nonetheless, farmers and experts who monitor the program wonder whether expected grant payments will be disbursed or new applications accepted in coming months, and whether farmers will still trust the program after this period of chaos. 

REAP grants are administered through reimbursement, meaning uncertainty is particularly harmful. Farmers and other recipients make significant up-front investments with their own money under the assumption that the government will honor its commitment to pay them back.

“This year, since Jan. 20, has been incredible levels of stress for people who did not understand if they would ever get paid for work where they have already put down millions of dollars on projects,” said Everly.

“No matter what the government does, the harvest happens at the same time every year. Farmers had made investments with hope of help from the government, and there’s great uncertainty right now.”

A window closed

On June 30, the USDA released a statement saying that the fiscal year 2026 REAP application period that was supposed to run from July 1 to Sept. 30 would not happen.

“This decision was made due to the overwhelming response and continued popularity of the program resulting in a backlog of applicants,” the brief statement says. The USDA said it ​“anticipates” accepting applications again starting Oct. 1.

Meanwhile, the agency has yet to announce decisions on applications submitted last fall, farmers and the advocates who help them with REAP applications told Canary Media. Usually, farmers and technical assistance organizations feel fairly confident that a strong proposal will receive an award, and many made plans expecting to receive funding, Everly said. Now, they are unsure.

REAP only reimburses projects that were started after the application was submitted, so many farmers planning to apply this round had postponed breaking ground on projects until after July 1, Everly said. But with the sudden delay, they must now choose to either move forward without REAP funding or kick needed upgrades down the road once more.

The number of REAP award decisions is indeed down significantly this year, according to an analysis by the Environmental Law & Policy Center. Federal data obtained by the group through a public records request shows the USDA obligated money for just over 1,900 grant and loan guarantees between the start of this fiscal year and July 9; almost 2,400 obligations were made during the same period last year. While the money awarded for grants so far this year is only slightly less than last year, the dollars for loan guarantees are drastically lower.

Everly was hired by the Indiana state government to help farmers file REAP applications in the program’s early days, then founded a firm now staffed by his wife and more than a dozen employees.

His company, EIM LLC, had seven people working full time on REAP applications over the past three months in anticipation of the July 1 application window. They only get paid once projects come to fruition. REAP data from the USDA shows that the company was awarded five grants for $100,000 each in fiscal year 2023, but has received only about $25,000 thus far.

Everly said his firm has a 92 percent success rate in applications, so the wait for payment is not usually a problem. But now he’s uncertain if the 3,000 hours of staff time spent on this latest round of applications will ever be compensated.

“We don’t know if we’ll ever get paid for any of the work we did,” said Everly, whose family also owns two farms in the state, one going back seven generations. He said his firm can survive the possible financial setback, but many farmers are working on tighter margins. ​“We’ve helped a lot of people who really need the help” from REAP funds.

A rollercoaster

The canceled July application window was just the latest disruption in what’s been a chaotic year for REAP.

On March 26, USDA sent a cryptic letter to REAP and other rural agriculture grant recipients noting that the funding freeze was over, and they had 30 days to ​“voluntarily” alter their applications to remove ​“any harmful [Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Accessibility] project features” or to use ​“more affordable and effective energy sources.” The letter indicated grants would be paid even without changes.

Amanda Pankau, director of energy and community resiliency at the environmental nonprofit Prairie Rivers Network, said REAP recipients her organization works with in Illinois were alarmed by the freeze and then confused by the letter, especially since switching to an energy source other than solar wasn’t an option, and most projects did not have DEIA components. Indeed, federal data shows that over the past decade, 82 percent of REAP grants went to recipients identified as white, and 75 percent went to men or businesses owned by men.

“The federal freeze and policy chaos, including the confusion surrounding the March 26 letter, created real distress for Illinois’ farmers and rural small businesses,” Pankau said. ​“We know that rural farmers and small business owners are already managing intense stress and thin profit margins. Many don’t have the privilege of a financial cushion to absorb months of federal uncertainty for clean energy projects that were already awarded or underway.”

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In mid-April, a federal judge ruled that the USDA must pay out billions of dollars promised under the IRA, including from REAP and other clean energy programs such as Empowering Rural America, Powering Affordable Clean Energy, and Partnership for Climate-Smart Commodities.

The following week, on April 25, three congressional Democrats from Minnesota — Sens. Amy Klobuchar and Tina Smith, along with Rep. Angie Craig — sent a letter to the USDA demanding answers about REAP funds that appeared to still be frozen.

The tumult has had lasting impacts on farmers, technical assistance organizations, and solar developers, multiple sources told Canary Media.

“People are being whipsawed out there, who are just trying to use the program to install clean energy and cut energy waste,” said Andy Olsen, senior policy advocate for the Environmental Law & Policy Center.

Tim Biello is the owner and manager of Featherbed Lane Farm, a regenerative farm supplying community-supported agriculture in upstate New York. He learned in January that he had received REAP funding for a 30-kilowatt, $115,000 solar project. After the freeze, he wondered whether he should really start the project, since he can’t afford it without REAP reimbursement.

“I got awarded, which was awesome news,” said Biello in May. ​“Then we got the notice it was frozen. The solar company was just about to put a $50,000 to $75,000 order for panels. We canceled that; the advice was not to proceed unless you can take it on with no reimbursement.”

Biello said at the time that he assumed he would get the promised payment, ​“but I don’t feel like anything now is guaranteed, even if you have a signed contract with the government.”

Ultimately, Biello decided to install the solar project this summer, after learning the funds were unfrozen and consulting with advisers. In early July, he could finally take a breath of relief: The USDA officially reimbursed him.

Farmers in Iowa have similar trepidation, according to Mike Brummer, sales manager at Eagle Point Solar, an installer that counts REAP grantees among its customers.

“We’re at this point trying to treat it as business as usual. Let’s keep talking about the project, moving forward with the necessary items,” Brummer said. ​“I joke I’ll check my Twitter account at 2 a.m. for an update.”

He said many farmers can only do solar projects with the help of REAP.

“The REAP grant can make or break a project, especially for a small farmer or small business,” he said. ​“For farmers, every penny has a name on it before it hits the bank. The more pennies you can save, the more chance you have of enduring as a farm and being able to go to the next generation.”

The future

Everly has three wishes for REAP going forward: clarity on the status of application windows and the program’s future; full funding through the Farm Bill, so that 50 percent reimbursement can continue; and staff support from the USDA.

“Is it 25 percent or 50 percent [reimbursement], and are the application deadlines real or imaginary?” he said.

With sweeping cuts to the federal workforce, it can be hard to reach someone in the USDA with questions or concerns about the program or an application, he added.

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Given the turmoil of the past six months, Everly and others are worried that farmers won’t trust REAP as a resource even if the USDA takes applications again. Everly noted that the average farmer only has about 40 harvest seasons in their life, and with so many resources sunk into each season, they can’t afford to take many risks.

“Any time you create uncertainty,” farmers will be dissuaded, he said. ​“They only get to run this experiment 40 times in their life. If you messed up two of them, it’s hard to get their faith back. One mistake and you’ve lost multiple generations of wealth.”

Ritter at Green Capitol shares Everly’s concern about federal layoffs impacting REAP. In May, Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins told lawmakers that the USDA was trying to fill critical positions after more than 15,000 agency employees took buyouts aimed at reducing the federal workforce.

“My biggest fear is the staffing cuts at USDA will hurt program implementation and efficiency and speed,” Ritter said. 

He emphasized the bipartisan support that REAP has long enjoyed, and said he hopes and expects that popularity will help the program weather tough times.

“REAP just makes sense,” said Ritter. ​“The vast bulk of applicants are farmers, ranchers, [and] rural small businesses using it to help lower energy costs and build energy dominance in rural America. Despite unfair and unreasonable attacks from the far right, I think REAP will be OK.” 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline USDA abruptly cancels rural energy grant application window on Jul 17, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Kari Lydersen.

Have you ever listened to a recording of birdsong? Or ocean waves? The howling of wolves, or thunder and rain? If you have, did you ever wonder whether nature was getting any compensation for producing that acoustic art that found its way to your speakers?

A number of musicians and environmentalists have begun raising that last question — and trying to ensure that its answer is yes. Nature sounds have long been sampled in musical tracks of all genres, but over the past few years, artists and cultural leaders have created a movement viewing nature as more than just a source of inspiration, but as a collaborator — one who deserves both credit and compensation.

One such initiative formally launched in mid-May, on the day of the full flower moon: a new record label and platform called Future Sound of Nature, dedicated to “blending the soul of electronic music with the rhythms of the Earth.” The platform is the brainchild of Eli Goldstein and Lola Villa, two electronic artists who connected as part of the group DJs for Climate Action.

“Having experienced what happens on the dance floor and the type of magic that happens there, we always believed that it was a very special place for community building around climate and acknowledging the Earth,” said Villa. “Eli and I wanted to create an organization or a platform where music could speak to that notion. And then also, how do we give nature a role in our storytelling and in our business model?”

In Future Sound of Nature’s model, 20 percent of the revenue from each release will go toward conservation or stewardship projects for the habitats featured in the recordings. The plan is for every release to have a theme, Villa said, whether that’s a location, a type of habitat, or even perhaps a single species. The first release under the new label was an EP of her own, titled Amazonía. Its eight tracks are built on field recordings she took during two visits to the Peruvian and Colombian Amazon, and 20 percent of the proceeds will go directly to the Indigenous Bora people who hosted her there.

The cover art for Villa’s Amazonía EP. Courtesy of FSON, design by Claudia Smith

That direct connection is an important part of what Goldstein and Villa are trying to create for artists and listeners alike. “It’s not just like, ‘Here’s some nature sounds, make some music,’” said Goldstein. “It’s really all about trying to create a deeper connection with the land and the communities where the music is being recorded, where nature is being collaborated with.”

Every time she has played the Amazonía set live, Villa said, she has given her audience context about the landscapes and animals that are represented in what they’re listening to — including the threats that they face. For instance: “Some of these birds are endangered. What does that do to you?” she posed. “What does that do to the listening experience?”

Future Sound of Nature is not the only initiative aimed at lifting up nature as an artist, and channeling the power of music back into her protection. On Earth Day last year, an initiative called Sounds Right officially launched in partnership with Spotify, putting “NATURE” as a creator on the platform for the first time. With nearly 2 million monthly listeners, NATURE’s artist page includes EPs of purely natural sounds — like Colombian rainforests and Nepalese rivers — and a playlist of more than 60 collaborations, where NATURE is listed as a contributor on tracks by artists ranging from Ellie Goulding to Aurora to Brian Eno.

Two months ago, the singer-songwriter Hozier became one of the latest to join this initiative. He released a new version of a song from his first album, “Like Real People Do,” incorporating the sounds of birds, crickets, thunder, and rain recorded in his home of Wicklow, Ireland. (Much to my heartbreak, Hozier could not be reached for an interview.)

“Everyone has a nature story,” said Iminza Mbwaya, the global program manager for the Sounds Right initiative, which is spearheaded by the Museum for the United Nations. As a musician herself, she has always been inspired by nature, she said. “Being able to credit it, being able to go through this creative challenge of like, ‘OK, what nature sound would I include in my song, and why would I do that?’ It opens up a world of possibility.”

Mbwaya (center) and rest of the Sounds Right team took home a Grand Prix for Innovation at the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity in France last month. Courtesy of Iminza Mbwaya

That includes processing experiences with nature that aren’t necessarily positive. Rozzi, an L.A.-based singer-songwriter, got connected with Sounds Right when she was looking for a way to give back in the aftermath of the catastrophic L.A. fires earlier this year. Her brother and sister-in-law lost their home in Altadena, one of the neighborhoods that suffered the worst impacts.

“Altadena is just so special,” she said. “It’s this magical place where you can live right up against the mountains … hence why it’s a little bit vulnerable.” While it was emotionally difficult to see the charred landscape after the fire, and the place where her brother’s home once stood — only the chimney remaining — she was also surprised to find a sense of hope as she listened.

“I stood there with my phone, and it had been raining all day, so there was water dripping and so many birds and the wind in the trees,” she described. “I’m a natural optimist, so maybe this is just me — but I have to say, it felt like I was so aware of nature’s ability to come back. And I took that to be a metaphor for us as people as well. If we’re a part of nature, we must also have resilience inside of us.”

The track she created with those sounds, “Orange Skies – Chapter 2,” is also a reimagining of an old song she released in 2020, in the wake of another record-breaking fire season. Sadly, she said, the song’s message only grows more relevant. And while she has heard from a number of fans who have found it cathartic, she did not want to profit off that message. “I wanted to use that song to give back.”

Sounds Right requires that at least 50 percent of royalties from tracks featuring NATURE must go to conservation and restoration projects — although not necessarily in the places where the recordings are from. In its first year, the initiative raised $225,000, which was channeled through the foundation EarthPercent into projects in Colombia and other parts of the tropical Andes. That area was determined to be a priority, as a biodiversity hot spot that is also under significant threat. In its second year, Mbwaya said, the project will focus half its grantmaking in the Amazon Basin and half in the Congo Basin.

The idea of crediting and compensating nature as an artistic collaborator has some elements of the rights of nature movement, an effort to extend legal rights to natural entities as a means of protecting them from exploitation and harm. Both Future Sound of Nature and Sounds Right attempt to represent nature’s interests in their decisionmaking. For Future Sound of Nature, that will involve giving nature a seat on the board of directors — filled by a human representative who will change over each year. Similar mechanisms have been proposed for how we might give nature a voice in governance.

But both groups stop short of suggesting a legal framework for giving nature credit and payment beyond their individual initiatives. “Sounds Right exists primarily as an initiative within the pop culture and nature conservation space. So it’s anchored in that creative world first, and then could extend into some of the legal world,” Mbwaya said. “But our aim, our purpose, is not really to step into the legalities of establishing nature’s ownership or nature’s rights in that sense.”

Still, she is hopeful that the model could eventually spread to other creative industries — or even something like pharmaceuticals, where many ingredients are derived from plants and animals.

For the time being, both Future Sound of Nature and Sounds Right are focused on getting more artists on board and reaching more listeners. In addition to the money that every stream generates for conservation, Future Sound of Nature’s Villa is hopeful the music will help listeners connect more deeply with nature.

“I think that the beauty of music is that it can give us a language that we don’t yet have in words — as to like, how do we describe our relationship with nature?” Villa said. “In our words, it’s still very divided. Whereas music doesn’t need words for it to convey this notion that there is actually no division. You can just feel it. And that’s the goal of our work, to convey that feeling of connection.”

— Claire Elise Thompson

More exposure

• Read: a previous newsletter about DJs for Climate Action, a group that Goldstein and Villa are part of
• Read: about how the changing climate threatens some of our most beloved nature sounds (Grist)
• Read: more about the rights of nature movement and some of its recent victories and proposals (Rolling Stone)
• Read: about the history of our interest in recorded nature sounds, and how they’ve found audiences through meditation apps and other platforms (The Economist)
• Read: about a movement among Latin American artists to incorporate more nature sounds in their music, in the face of ecological decline (Pitchfork)

A parting shot

While I sadly did not get to speak to Hozier for this story (I know he’s busy tending to his bees, OK), we can all enjoy this serene video of him singing “Like Real People Do” live by a lake in Wicklow.

IMAGE CREDITS

Vision: Mia Torres / Grist

Parting shot: Hozier / YouTube

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Inside the movement to recognize nature as an artist on Jul 16, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Claire Elise Thompson.

When nations boost military budgets, they also boost their carbon emissions. With a bump of $157 billion, thanks to the budget the Trump administration passed earlier this month, the United States now spends $1 trillion each year on defense. That’s more than three times as much as China, the next highest spender, as well as the entire European Union. If combined, the world’s armed forces would have the fourth highest carbon footprint, behind India, the U.S., and China. 

Yet it’s been maddeningly difficult for researchers to monitor the emissions of militaries, which aren’t required to report these things. “There’s a guessing game involved,” said Nick Buxton, who has coauthored reports on military emissions from the Transnational Institute, an international research and advocacy group. “One of the overwhelming calls for everyone working in the sector is just for more open and transparent data, so we can come up with some reliable figures.”

To that end, using what data the Department of Energy has made publicly available between 1975 to 2022, researchers have calculated that if the U.S. consistently decreased military spending — by even a little — instead of increasing it, it’d be saving as much energy as Delaware and Slovenia use in a year. A decrease of less than 7 percent each year over about a decade would theoretically reduce energy consumption from about 640 trillion to 394 trillion British thermal units (a measurement of heat energy produced from burning fuels).

The study gives observers not just a better idea of how much carbon the American military is spewing, but also how effective it would be to reduce its funding. “We realize that the feasibility of military spending reductions taking place anytime soon within the U.S. context is probably quite questionable, to put it mildly,” said Andrew Jorgenson, professor of sociology and founding director of the University of British Columbia’s Climate and Society Lab and coauthor of the study, which was published June 2 in the journal PLOS Climate. “But it does highlight that it is a possible pathway to decarbonization and climate mitigation, just with very modest reductions in military spending.”

The researchers note that between 2010 and 2019, the Department of Defense’s emissions were over 636 million metric tons of atmosphere-warming emissions. (The DOD did not respond to a request to comment for this story.) And that’s a conservative and necessarily incomplete estimate, Jorgenson said. Fuel use can give researchers a general idea of how much carbon the armed forces are directly sending into the atmosphere, but there are also all kinds of indirect emissions that come with operating a military. Vegetables, for instance, took energy to grow and ship to bases, to say nothing of all the other supplies flowing around a military’s supply chain: bullets, blankets, boots. 

“If anything, our findings are then perhaps undercounting and underestimating the actual scope of the U.S. military’s contribution to energy consumption and carbon emissions and climate change,” Jorgenson said. “That’s a speculative statement — I just want to be clear about that.”

All these variables not only make it difficult for researchers to accurately determine the climate costs of war — governments themselves can be in the dark too. “Militaries are decades behind in their ability to even understand their emission sources and where they’re coming from,” said Ellie Kinney, military emissions campaigner at the nonprofit Conflict and Environment Observatory. “There is this lag compared to other industries, because no one’s asked them to.”

Calculations get even more complicated when a military actually goes to war. More jet flights require more fuel, and even missiles produce their own emissions. The resulting fires in conflict zones, like the ones that have been devastating Ukraine’s forests, release still more carbon into the atmosphere. While the U.S. spends an outsized amount of money on its armed forces, other nations, particularly those involved in active wars, seem intent to catch up. Russia is now spending a third of its federal budget on defense as its invasion of Ukraine drags on. Last year, Israel’s military spending jumped by 65 percent to $46.5 billion as the country assaulted Gaza. 

Last month, at President Trump’s urging, NATO allies committed to investing 3.5 percent of their gross domestic product each year on defense, and a further 1.5 percent on domestic security like new infrastructure, by 2035. That combined 5 percent is more than double their previous agreement to spend 2 percent of GDP. And on Monday, NATO secretary general Mark Rutte joined Trump in the Oval Office to announce a deal in which “billions of dollars’ worth of military equipment” will be purchased from the U.S. and delivered to Ukraine to support its defense against Russia. 

According to a Transnational Institute report, if every NATO state actually reaches its new military spending goal, by 2030 the alliance’s annual military carbon footprint would be 2.3 billion metric tons CO2 equivalent. (The group published the report prior to the formalization of the June agreement, hence the discrepancy of using 2030 in their modeling instead of 2035.) That’s nearly 700 million metric tons extra than if 2024 levels of military spending were sustained until that time. 

“We’re moving to a world which is readying itself constantly for war, which often makes war much more inevitable,” Buxton said. “And when war happens, emissions just skyrocket.”

All this additional military investment can create a feedback loop, Buxton and Kinney warn. Military leaders in the U.S. and elsewhere recognize climate change as a “threat multiplier,” meaning that it exacerbates existing hazards and conflicts. But with more investment in defense comes more emissions, and more warming, and more threats, which encourages more investment in armed forces. That also means less money for investing in renewable energy and adaptation measures: The richest nations are spending 30 times more on their militaries than on climate finance for the world’s most vulnerable countries.

“An escalation beyond control feels like the situation that we’re heading into,” Kinney said. “This is obviously deeply concerning from a broader security perspective, but really concerning from a climate perspective.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How reducing the U.S. military budget would also reduce emissions on Jul 16, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

One Comfort resident told Grist that when she heard the sirens, she had no way of knowing just how much urgency was called for. 

“In my mind, I’m going, ‘Okay we’ve got a couple hours before it gets up to the house, because it’s a 50-foot drop from our house to the creek,” she said. Her husband started walking down to check on the water level, but quickly ran back inside. “You’ve got five minutes,” he told her. “Grab everything you need.’” 

Ultimately, she and her husband were lucky — they were able to shelter with a neighbor whose house is on higher ground — but their close call captures a dilemma that’s taking on new urgency as flash floods claim lives from Texas to North Carolina: Even the most comprehensive disaster warnings are only as helpful as the responses of those who receive them. 

“If you’ve never seen water rise in front of you in minutes, it’s hard to conceive of how quickly that can happen — and how quickly your life and property can be at risk,” said Rachel Hogan Carr, executive director of The Nurture Nature Center, a nonprofit focused on flood risk communication.

“There’s barriers to warning delivery from things like internet connectivity, people not having cell phones, or being asleep when a warning comes in,” added Hogan Carr, who is also a co-chair of Integrated Prediction of Precipitation and Hydrology for Early Actions or, InPRA, a working group within NOAA that researches early warning systems. “Communities need to anticipate these barriers, and set up local systems in order to amplify the distribution of warnings when they come in.” 

In the aftermath of the July 4 deluge, questions about the efficacy of local warning systems have swirled, particularly in Kerr County, which saw the most devastating flooding. Although the county had the ability to use FEMA’s Integrated Public Alert and Warning System, or IPAWS, to push out aggressive, vibrating alarms to residents’ mobile phones — similar to those that sound when an AMBER alert is issued to inform residents of a given area about a missing child — that system wasn’t used until days after the flood, as more rain headed towards the area. 

That said, cell phone customers in the at-risk service area were sent a variety of warnings — including a flash flood warning from the National Weather Service — but their effects appear to have been limited. Many received no alert, or only received an alert after the flood had overtaken them. Even if the county had sent additional warnings, many residents likely would have missed them if their phones were off or out of reach for the night.

Plus, a warning from local officials may have carried more weight than the alerts from the National Weather Service, Abdul-Akeem Sadiq, a professor at the University of Central Florida who studies emergency management, told the Washington Post. People tend to be more receptive to warnings that are tailored specifically to them, added Hogan Carr.

“We saw this in Superstorm Sandy,” she explained. “Even though the entire New Jersey shoreline there was at risk, if it didn’t say somebody’s specific small town name, they often decided it [didn’t apply] to them.” 

On the night of the flooding, Kerr County resident Martha Murayama says she was woken up by an audible alert on her phone. But she turned it off without reading the warning, assuming that it was an AMBER Alert. Murayama lives in the gated subdivision of Bumble Bee Hills, which sit directly across from the Guadalupe between Kerrville and Ingram, Texas. By then, the flood was already well underway. Not long after she got back to bed, Murayama received a panicked call from her neighbor, saying that someone was banging on the door. It was a family who lived directly across from the river, trying to warn people as they moved to higher ground. Murayama was worried — her neighbor, Joe, suffers from Parkinson’s and was not in good health. When Murayama’s husband went outside to investigate, he was quickly swept away by flood waters, although he was ultimately able to make his way back to the house. 

Just up the hill, Ramiro Rodriguez was awoken by the same family seeking shelter. Like Murayama, he too thought immediately of Joe, and made his way down to the house through flood waters to help Joe and his wife up the hill. As they managed to pop the garage door open, Rodriguez spotted a tow strap, which he used to haul the couple to his house. “I tied up Joe to my hips,” he said. “And right about that time, you can hear the flash flood warning.” 

But just as quickly as the water arrived, it receded. Since July 4, Murayama says, she’s gotten new flood alerts constantly. 

Flash floods are among the deadliest natural disasters and the most difficult to accurately predict. Less than 1 percent of waterways across the United States have stream gauges that monitor rising water in real time; the National Weather Service often relies on computer modeling to assess flood risk in smaller creeks and streams. (Kerr County only has six river gauges, which makes predicting floods more difficult). But nearby development can quickly render these models outdated. For example, a stream bordered by concrete will flood much faster and cause much more damage in the surrounding community than one that runs alongside a park, which has natural features that can absorb water. 

Even when floods can be anticipated, communicating their severity to the public is a tall order. Because flash floods are very localized, even neighborhood-level warnings may seem like false alarms to some residents, leading to what the journalist Zoë Schlanger has dubbed “alert fatigue.”

That’s why early community education is such an integral part of a functioning warning system, according to Hogan Carr. “If you get a flash flood warning and you never see it, you got lucky,” she said.

Many people do not understand the speed with which floods move, which can lead to them driving through areas that are about to be submerged, for example. Warnings such as the ones sent in Texas, encouraging residents to “move to higher ground,” don’t necessarily convey urgency, according to Ashley Coles, an associate professor of environmental geography at Texas Christian University who studies flash flooding.

“I spoke to somebody regarding the flooding in Texas. They said, ‘You know, if I had gotten that message I would’ve gotten together a go bag and then gone to bed.’ So they would have been ready to evacuate if needed, but it came so fast that they would have been swept away,” said Coles. “It makes it very difficult even for people who are trying to be cautious.” 

The National Weather Service has defended its response to the floods, pointing out that it issued warnings at 1:14 am, two hours before the flood waters reached inhabited riverside areas like Camp Mystic. But the warnings, though they cautioned that “life-threatening” flooding was possible, did not order evacuations.

As climate change makes flash floods and other extreme weather events more common and deadly, researchers across the country are struggling with how to effectively communicate risk to the public, without losing their trust through over-warning.

”It has to be really a comprehensive strategy of community support, wrapped around the issuance of a formal flood warning,” said Hogan Carr, explaining that ideally, the local weather service would have a forecaster whose job was dedicated to doing community outreach, explaining local risks, where forecasts come from, and where residents can get reliable information in an emergency. “It’s an investment of time and resources proactively, that could pay off tremendously during these large-scale events,” she added.

In the meantime, Kerr County residents are hoping for a siren system, like the one used in neighboring Comfort.

“I slept through [the phone alert],” said Rodriguez. “If it wasn’t for those people knocking on the door, I would have slept right through it.” 

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Why flash flood warnings will continue to go unheeded on Jul 16, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Rebecca Egan McCarthy.

In a motion to join a lawsuit, as one of the first tribes to potentially sue against the detention center, the case argues that the Department of Homeland Security, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Miami-Dade County, and the Florida Division of Emergency Management did not seek an environmental review.

The filing alleges the center’s proximity to Miccosukee villages, ceremonial sites, and access to traditional hunting grounds, and “raises significant raises significant concerns about environmental degradation and potential impacts.”

“We are going to make sure that we fight this facility on whatever front is available to us,” said William “Popeye” James Osecola, who is the secretary of the Miccosukee tribal council. He hopes the lawsuit will “signify that the tribe will continue fighting to do what it’s always done, which is protect the land and save the land that saved us.”

According to Osecola, since the facility’s operation began, tribal members have been restricted from gathering plants and roots for uses such as medicine. “Obviously, that’s not an option for us right now,” he said. “At the moment, it’s the first time we’ve ever seen gates like that there, so it’s very jarring for us.” 

Nearby the facility, 15 active tribal villages reside inside Big Cypress National Preserve, located within the Everglades. 

During the 19th century, the Seminole Wars, which the Seminole Nation and Miccosukee Nation view as one continuous conflict against the U.S., many members fled into the wetlands and used their natural environment as refuge. 

In a press conference at the detention center last month, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis said there would be  “zero impact” on the wetland’s environment. The site is located on an abandoned airstrip, once a controversial project that aimed to be the world’s largest airport. Observers outside the facility said they could see lights on at all hours, attracting mosquito swarms. Recent satellite images also reveal that a freshly paved road has been laid down. 

Last year, the tribe and the National Park Service signed a co-stewardship agreement for Everglades National Park. The partnership aimed to collaborate on protecting tribal practices, restoration efforts for the land’s vegetation, and protection. 

In these cypress swamps and toothy sawgrass marshes, wildlife alongside alligators includes bats, turtles, and panthers. Because species such as the panther are critically endangered, Osecola implied that the continuous traffic at Alligator Alcatraz will “see more deaths with the wildlife”. “It’s taken decades just to get Everglades restoration going like it is now,” he said.

While the Department of Homeland Security distanced itself after promoting the facility for weeks, claiming Florida controls the facility under state hands, critics are not convinced. Elise Bennett, Florida and Caribbean director at the Center for Biological Diversity, an organization that filed alongside Friends of the Everglades in the case last month, noted that “setting aside the funding for detaining immigrants is essentially a federal function. This is a federal project, regardless of what they say in their court filings.”

Last week, the Center for Biological Diversity filed a legal notice with an intent to sue that the construction also violates the Clean Water Act and Endangered Species Act, raising concerns such as light pollution and the use of insecticide to mitigate mosquitoes on-site that could affect the area’s wildlife and surrounding water. 

Each day since its opening, protestors and groups have noticed trucks coming in carrying diesel, generators, and caged vehicles holding detainees. There are currently 3000 beds inside the facility and at least 400 security personnel on-site. 

After state legislators were blocked from entering the Alligator Alcatraz’s premises, Governor DeSantis invited legislators and the state’s members of Congress to tour the facility over the weekend. According to Osecola, the Governor of Florida did not extend that invitation to tribes. 

Some Republican members claimed that the detention center was clean and safe. Others, such as Democratic State Representative Anna Eskamani, reported that, “The environmental impact of this facility cannot be overstated — there is new asphalt, thousands of gallons of water used every day and gas tanks powering generators. No alligators seen, but plenty of mosquitoes.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline A tribe in Florida joins the fight against the “Alligator Alcatraz” immigrant detention center on Jul 15, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Miacel Spotted Elk.

Every year, an unknown but potentially large amount of plastic waste continues to be traded in the form of “refuse-derived fuel,” or RDF, ground-up packaging and industrial plastic waste that gets mixed with scrap wood and paper in order to be burned for energy. Environmental groups say these exports perpetuate “waste colonialism” and jeopardize public health, since burning plastic emits hazardous pollutants and greenhouse gases that warm the planet. 

Many advocates would like to see the RDF loophole closed as a first step toward discouraging the development of new RDF facilities worldwide. They were disappointed that, at this spring’s biannual meeting of the Basel Convention — the 1989 treaty that regulates the transboundary movement of hazardous waste — RDF went largely unaddressed. “It’s just frustrating to witness all these crazy, profit-protecting negotiators,” said Yuyun Ismawati, co-founder of the Indonesian anti-pollution nonprofit Nexus3. “If we are going to deal with plastic waste through RDF, then … everybody must be willing to learn more about what’s in it.”

RDF is a catch-all term for several different products, sometimes made with special equipment at material recovery facilities — the centers that, in the U.S., receive and sort mixed household waste for further processing. ASTM International, an American standard-setting organization, lists several types of RDF depending on what it’s made of and what it’s formed into — coarse particles no larger than a fingernail, for example, or larger briquettes. Some RDF is made by shredding waste into a loose “fluff.”

Although RDF contains roughly 50 percent paper, cardboard, wood, and other plant material, the rest is plastic, including human-made textiles and synthetic rubber. It’s this plastic content that makes RDF so combustible — after all, plastics are just reconstituted fossil fuels. According to technical guidelines from the Basel Convention secretariat, RDF contains about two-thirds the energy of coal by weight. 

One of the main users of RDF is the cement industry, which can burn it alongside traditional fossil fuels to power its energy-intensive kilns. Álvaro Lorenz, global sustainability director for the multinational cement company Votorantim Cimentos, said RDF has gained popularity as cities, states and provinces, and countries struggle to deal with the 353 million metric tons of plastic waste produced each year — 91 percent of which is never recycled. Some of these jurisdictions have implemented policies discouraging trash from being sent to landfills. Instead, it gets sent to cement kilns like his. “Governments are promoting actions to reduce the amount of materials being sent to landfills, and we are one solution,” he said.

Lorenz said RDF makes his company more sustainable by contributing to a “circular economy.” In theory, using RDF instead of coal or natural gas reduces emissions and advances companies’ environmental targets. According to David Araujo, North America engineered fuels program manager for the waste management and utility company Veolia, RDF produced by his company’s factory in Louisiana, Missouri, allows cement company clients in the Midwest to avoid 1.06 metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions with every ton of RDF burned. The ash produced from burning RDF can also be used as a raw material in cement production, he added, displacing virgin material use.

RDF is also attractive because it is less price-volatile than the fossil fuels that cement production would otherwise depend on. In one analysis of Indonesian RDF production from last year, researchers found that each metric ton of RDF can save cement kiln operators about $77 in fuel and electricity costs.

Lorenz said that the high temperatures inside cement kilns “completely burn 100 percent” of any hazardous chemicals that may be contained in RDF’s plastic fraction. But this is contested by environmental advocates who worry about insufficiently regulated toxic air emissions similar to those produced by traditional waste incinerators — especially in poor countries with less robust environmental regulations and enforcement capacity. Dioxins, for example, are released by both cement kilns and other waste incinerators, and are linked to immune and nervous system impairment. Burning plastic can also release heavy metals that are associated with respiratory and neurological disorders. A 2019 systematic review of the health impacts of waste incineration found that people living and working near waste incinerators had higher levels of dioxins, lead, and arsenic in their bodies, and that they often had a higher risk of some types of cancer such as non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

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“Before they convert it into fuel, the chemicals are still locked inside the [plastic] packaging,” said Ismawati. “But once you burn it, … you spray out everything.” She said some of her friends living near an RDF facility in Indonesia have gotten cancer, and at least one has died from it.

Lorenz and Araujo both said their companies are subject to, and comply with, applicable environmental regulations in the countries where they operate. 

Lee Bell, a science and policy adviser for the International Pollutants Elimination Network — a network of environmental and public health experts and nonprofits — also criticized the idea that burning RDF causes fewer greenhouse gas emissions than burning traditional fossil fuels. He said this notion fails to consider the “petrochemical origin” of plastic waste: Plastics cause greenhouse gas emissions at every stage of their life cycle, and, as a strategy for dealing with plastic waste, research suggests that incineration releases more climate pollution than other waste management strategies. In a landfill, where plastic lasts hundreds of years with little degradation, the nonprofit Center for International Environmental Law has estimated greenhouse gas emissions at about 132 pounds per metric ton. That rises to about 1,980 pounds of emissions per metric ton when plastic is incinerated.

Bell said he’s concerned about the apparent growth of the RDF industry worldwide, though there is little reliable data about how much of the stuff is produced and traded between countries each year. Part of the problem is the “harmonized system” of export codes administrated by the World Customs Organization, which represents more than 170 customs bodies around the world. The organization doesn’t have a specific code for RDF and instead lumps it with any of several other categories  — ”household waste,” for example — when it’s traded internationally. Only the U.K. seems to provide transparent reporting of its RDF exports. In the first three months of 2025 it reported sending about 440,000 metric tons abroad, most of which was received by Scandinavian countries.

Nearly all of the world’s largest cement companies already use RDF in at least some of their facilities. According to one market research firm, the market for RDF was worth about $5 billion in 2023, and it’s expected to grow to $10.2 billion by 2032. Other firms have forecast a bright outlook for the RDF industry in the Middle East and Africa, and one analysis from last year said that Asia is “realizing tremendous potential as a growth market for RDF” as governments seek new ways to manage their waste. Within the past year, new plans to use RDF in cement kilns have been announced in Peshawar, Pakistan; Hoa Binh, Vietnam; Adana, Turkey; and across Nigeria, just to name a few places.  

Araujo, with Veolia, said his company’s RDF program “has grown exponentially” over the past several years, “and we recently invested millions of dollars to upgrade equipment to keep pace with demand.” A separate spokesperson said Veolia does not send RDF across international borders, and a spokesperson for Votorantim Cimentos said the company always sources RDF locally.

Dorothy Otieno, a program officer at the Nairobi-based Centre for Environment Justice and Development, said investment in RDF infrastructure could create a perverse incentive for the world to create more plastic — and for developing countries to import it — just to ensure that facility operators earn a return on their investment. “Will this create an avenue for the importation of RDFs and other fossil fuel-based plastics?” she asked. “These are the kinds of questions that we are going to need to ask ourselves.”

At this year’s Basel Convention conference in May and June, the International Pollutants Elimination Network called for negotiators to put RDF into the same regulatory bucket as other forms of mixed plastic — potentially by classifying it as hazardous waste. Doing so would prohibit rich countries from exporting RDF to poor ones, and make its trade between developing countries contingent on the receiving country giving “prior informed consent.”

Negotiators fell short of that vision. Instead, they requested that stakeholders — such as RDF companies and environmental groups — submit plastic waste-related comments to the secretariat of the Basel Convention, for discussion at a working group meeting next year. Bell described this as “kicking the cans down the road.” 

“This is disappointing,” he added. “We appear to be on the brink of an explosion in the trade of RDF.”

The next Basel Convention meeting isn’t until 2027. But in the meantime, countries are free to create their own legislation restricting the export of RDF. Australia did this in 2022 when, following pressure from environmental groups, it amended its rules for plastic waste exports. The country now requires companies to obtain a hazardous waste permit in order to send a type of RDF called “process engineered fuel” abroad. Although RDF exports to rich countries like Japan continue, the new requirements effectively ended the legal export of RDF from Australia to poorer countries in Southeast Asia.

Ultimately, Ismawati said countries need to focus on reducing plastic production to levels that can be managed domestically — without any type of incineration. “Every country needs to treat waste in their own country,” Ismawati said. “Do not export it under the label of a ‘circular economy.’”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline This fuel is 50% plastic — and it’s slipping through a loophole in international waste law on Jul 15, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Joseph Winters.

Later that day, President Donald Trump signed the One Big Beautiful Bill Act into law. The law gutted public food and healthcare safety nets, including the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program and Medicaid, while also codifying massive tax breaks for wealthier individuals and major corporations. The devastation in Texas, then, became the first major disaster to expose the grave effects of Trump’s extensive disinvestment from disaster resilience programs — and his administration’s newest food and hunger policies. 

Charitable groups such as food banks and pantries typically serve as frontline distributors of food and water in a time of a crisis, working in tandem with other responding national and global relief organizations and government agencies. Now, though, because of the policy and funding decisions enacted by the Trump administration over the last six months, the primary food banks that are responding to the needs of residents throughout central Texas have less food to distribute. 

Near the beginning of Trump’s second term, the Department of Agriculture stopped the flow of some of the money that pays for deliveries of products like meats, eggs, and vegetables known as “bonus commodities” through The Emergency Food Assistance Program, or TEFAP, to charitable organizations like food banks. TEFAP is one of the primary ways that state and federal governments have ensured food reaches communities in need in the aftermath of climate-fueled disasters like a hurricane or heatwave. 

In March, the USDA also moved to end future rounds of funding for the Local Food Purchase Assistance Cooperative Agreement Program and the Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program. These two programs, which are also designed to support emergency food providers such as food banks, were slated to distribute more than a billion dollars this fiscal year to states, tribes, and territories. 

In April, the funding cuts drove the Central Texas Food Bank to cancel 39 loads of food — the equivalent of 716,000 meals — scheduled to be delivered through September, said Beth Corbett, the organization’s vice president of government affairs and advocacy. The state of Texas lost more than $107 million for programs that allowed food banks and schools to buy food locally because of the administration’s funding cuts, the Austin Monitor and KUT reported. The San Antonio Food Bank also endured similar losses to its inventory. 

San Antonio Food Bank’s president and CEO Eric Cooper told Grist he is consumed by concern that they may not be able to meet the emergency food demand prompted by the flooding tragedy in central Texas. 

“Prior to this disaster, we just don’t have the volume of food in our warehouse that we need to have,” said Cooper, noting that they are “struggling to keep up” with the demand intensified by the deluge. “We have had to try to pivot a little bit to ration some of what we do have across the population we serve so that we can stretch [our supply],” he added. “USDA cuts have made it harder to keep up. The flood will make it even more difficult. Pending SNAP cuts feel like it will be impossible.”

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Over a week after the floods, more than 160 people remain unaccounted for, and on Sunday another round of heavy rains halted some rescue efforts. The food bank, which has pantries and distribution sites throughout 29 Texan counties, is now acting as the central community-based anti-hunger hub serving some of the hardest hit swaths of Hill Country. Throughout the last week, the bank distributed more than 160,000 pounds of food relief to households in affected counties — an amalgamation of heated and ready to eat meals, groceries, pallets of water, and snacks, that equates roughly $300,000 in value and provides up to 120,000 meals. In the period of recovery to come, they expect to distribute another 40,000 pounds or so worth of food every day, an amount which feeds anywhere between 300 and 500 families. 

That volume, according to Cooper, is far more than the bank normally distributes. They are already seeing a 10 percent increase in demand — a rapid uptick in the span of a little over a week. “We’re doing what we can to make sure that people don’t go hungry, but it has been tough,” he said. The biggest problem they are running up against, he noted, is how federal funding cuts have obstructed their ability to fully respond. 

“I feel like the parent whose child asked what’s for dinner tonight, and not knowing, not able to totally confirm, that I’ve got it.” 

With more than 5 million residents facing food insecurity, 17.6 percent of the state’s total population, Texas leads the rest of the nation in hunger rates. The region struck by floods is no exception. Among the six Hill Country counties most severely affected by the floods is Tom Green County, home to 120,000 or so residents. Preliminary estimates by Feeding America show that, based on location trends and new individuals registering for San Antonio Food Bank distributions, about 1,872 people in the area are now at further risk of hunger because of the expected economic impacts of the floods. About 20,080 residents living in Tom Green already confront food insecurity — nearly 17 percent of the population. 

But most of the destruction wrought by the floods was seen across neighboring Kerr County, where about 9,310 people already grapple with food insecurity, according to the latest public Feeding America data. With a total population of little more than 53,000 people, the towns found in this rural belt of south-central Texas include places like Hunt, an unincorporated community on the Guadalupe River, with a permanent population that sits at around 1,300. Roughly 876 residents in Hunt — more than half — now face a deeper food insecurity risk because of the floods, according to the Feeding America data shared with Grist.

Hunger typically intensifies in disaster zones because of the lasting economic repercussions of an extreme weather event. Poverty rates — and issues with food access — surge in areas significantly impacted by floods and storms because many Americans are less able to afford the mounting costs needed to best prepare for a disaster or recover from the damages they wreak. 

In the last week, the USDA has issued flood-related waivers for households already enrolled in SNAP but not yet announced broader food assistance through programs like D-SNAP, or the Disaster Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. In flood-ravaged places like Hunt, humanitarian organizations are stepping in to provide assistance where the government isn’t. 

The World Central Kitchen set up its main distribution site in Hunt. Their on-the-ground team of ten has handed out over 12,100 meals throughout Hill Country and has begun coordinating with local food banks to assess their longer-term resource needs.

“There is an influx of aid here because of this national tragedy,” said Samantha Elfmont, who leads emergency global food relief operations for World Central Kitchen. “We’re in that period now of ‘How do we support the community much longer than the month of July?’”

The latest round of torrential rainfall has complicated those efforts: Over the weekend, the Hunt site was flooded, so they are now also working to evacuate the team and food truck.

Getting a hot meal to those reeling from the floods is important for not just physical recovery from a disaster, but also for the emotional recovery process, said Elfmont. “People often think of health and shelter,” she said, but “emergency feeding helps people get through the trauma.” 

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

• Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

• Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

• Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Texas food banks are rationing meals for flood survivors because of Trump’s cuts on Jul 14, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Ayurella Horn-Muller.

With it, the city included tips to reduce exposure, links to city programs to help replace the pipe, and a full-page diagram showing how the lead can flake or dissolve into tap water from a service line or other plumbing infrastructure and cause serious health harm, including brain and kidney damage.

“Lead?” Salazar remembered thinking. “We’ve been drinking lead for how long?”

Salazar, a housing counselor, lifelong resident of the city’s Southeast Side and mother of two, immediately called friends and family. Her mother-in-law, who lives around the corner, had received the same letter. So, too, had one of her clients. But others, including her mother, 74-year-old Salome Fabela, fewer than 10 blocks away, hadn’t seen or heard anything about it.

A federal drinking water rule required Chicago officials to warn approximately 900,000 renters, homeowners, and landlords before November 16, 2024, that their drinking water is at risk of lead contamination. Their properties were built before 1986, when the city required the installation of lead service lines. Lead pipes were banned nationwide that year.

But as of early July, Chicago had only notified 7 percent of the people on its list that their water may be dangerously contaminated.

Fabela’s home, according to city records, is connected to a service line containing lead, so she should have received a letter. But she is among the vast majority of people who — eight months past the deadline — still have not been warned. The federal law requires water systems to warn residents on a yearly basis until all of its lead pipes are replaced.

Megan Vidis, spokesperson for the Department of Water Management, estimated that about 3,000 letters are mailed out every week, adding up to about $8,500 in monthly costs. 

Advocates worry that the city’s delayed warnings could keep already vulnerable communities in the dark about the state of their drinking water and what they can do about it.  A study published last year found two-thirds of Chicago children under 6 years old live in homes with tap water containing detectable levels of lead.

Vidis said DWM has asked the Illinois Environmental Protection Agency for more time to make its notifications, but they haven’t received an extension thus far. She added that the state is aware of Chicago’s delay and estimated that the city would not complete its first round of mailed notifications until 2027, but that it will notify residents electronically by the end of this year. 

IEPA said water systems that did not certify completion of the requirement by July 1 will receive a reporting violation that they will have to make public.

Lead pipes are a serious health hazard, and millions are still in use across the country in older homes and buildings. No other city in the nation is so reliant on the dangerous metal as Chicago, where around 412,000 out of about 490,000 service lines are at least partly made of lead, or may be contaminated with it. And the city doesn’t plan to finish replacing them for another five decades — 30 years later than required by the federal government.

Climate change could amplify the health risks of lead pipes because soaring temperatures can increase the amount of lead dissolving into and contaminating drinking water. Service lines, which bring water from the street into homes and buildings, are just one of many plumbing fixtures — along with faucets, valves and internal plumbing — that can add lead to drinking water.

All of that makes timely notifications even more important.

This is the first time water utilities have been required to notify the public they might be getting water through a lead pipe, according to Elin Betanzo, founder of Safe Water Engineering. Betanzo was instrumental in uncovering the water crisis in Flint, Michigan — which celebrated the replacement of a majority of its lead service lines earlier this month.

Chicago has provided other resources to let residents know that houses built before 1986 are likely to have a lead service line, including an online lookup tool that shows the material sourcing water to a specific address. The city also encourages residents to test their water by calling 311 and signing up for a free lead test kit. But the program was unable to complete any tests in May while it was undergoing maintenance, and it’s currently backlogged. Some residents have been waiting months, or even years, to receive results.

Gina Ramirez, director of Midwest environmental health for the Natural Resources Defense Council, said her mother completed a lead test in 2022 and never received results, although her service line was replaced through a city program geared toward lower-income residents in 2023.  

Of the 10 cities with the most lead service lines in the country, only Chicago has confirmed that it has not yet finished mailing all its notices. By the end of last November, about 200,000 notices had gone out in Cleveland and Detroit, more than 100,000 in Milwaukee, more than 85,000 in Denver and St. Louis, more than 75,000 in Indianapolis, nearly 70,000 in Buffalo, and more than 55,000 in Minneapolis, according to the cities’ respective water departments and utilities. New York City did not respond to multiple inquiries. 

In Chicago, only about 62,000 of the 900,000 notices that were due in November had gone out by early July. In some cases, they pointed residents to broken links. 

While Chicago is struggling to mail 3,000 notices a week, Milwaukee sent over 100,000 in a single day. And Detroit has already sent 124,000 this year after its 200,000 last year.

“People are not getting the information they need to protect themselves,” Betanzo said of Chicago’s pace. “It’s information they should have had a long time ago, and we’re continuing to delay that? That’s not OK.”

Chicago has a big job ahead, replacing hundreds of thousands of lines that are partially owned by private citizens, and it has to get permission from homeowners to replace their portion of the line. The city has said in its service line replacement plan that notifying homeowners of the problem and why it should matter to them is an important step in building buy-in for replacement. 

Suzanne Novak, a senior attorney working on safe drinking water issues for the nonprofit Earthjustice, said she thinks Chicago’s delay means city officials aren’t taking their responsibilities to the public seriously. 

“They are brazenly violating the law,” Novak said. “We not only need them to step up and catch up really quickly, but we also need the state of Illinois and EPA to use their powers to hold them accountable for this blatant lack of compliance with the law.”

The EPA also requires water systems to send out three types of notifications to residents: one if their service line is confirmed to be made of lead; another if it’s galvanized steel, which contains lead; and a third if the material of their service line is unknown. So far, Chicago has only started sending letters to homes with confirmed lead service lines.

Chicago officials say they are also prioritizing notifications by neighborhood and type of home. So far, the city has notified homes within 15 wards, mostly in lower-income areas on the city’s South, West, and Northwest sides. The city has begun by sending letters to single-family homes, which officials say are more likely to experience higher lead contamination due to less water usage and, subsequently, more water stagnation in the pipes.

But advocates and residents say the notification letters haven’t reached every affected home in these categories. Salazar and her mother both live in the 10th ward, one of the city’s priority areas, and Fabela lives in a single-family home. 

Vidis, the spokesperson for the city’s Department of Water Management, said Fabela had not yet received a letter because city records showed she has a galvanized steel pipe. Vidis said Fabela’s notice would go out this year but did not specify when. 

“I just think they should have done something to inform us faster,” Salazar said. “I think they’ve known this, and they’re just now informing us.”

Vanessa Bly, co-founder of Southeast Side neighborhood advocacy group Bridges//Puentes: Justice Collective of the Southeast, has been working since 2022 to raise awareness about the dangers of lead in drinking water. Last year, Bly began working with a Northwestern University laboratory that is developing rapid, at-home lead tests. 

Bly has been troubleshooting the experimental test kits with homeowners like Salazar and Fabela on the Southeast Side. The predominantly Black and Latino community experiences disproportionate pollution and health harms linked to toxic exposures, including higher rates of chronic disease and lower life expectancy. Decades of disinvestment have also bred distrust with the city.

Coming soon: More reporting on Chicago’s lead service lines, plus an interactive map to explore which areas are most at risk. Sign up to be notified when these stories and tools are available.

Have you been affected by lead pipes or lead exposure in Chicago? Tell us what happened.

Over and over, Bly has found that many of her participants still haven’t received lead notifications from the city. She worries about residents drinking their tap water with no idea it could be unsafe.

“Is it so hard to have a commercial campaign to talk about it?” Bly asked.

Some residents have long been suspicious about their water quality, even if they didn’t know it might contain lead. Salazar and her kids drink bottled water at home and keep a filter in the refrigerator, she said. Her mother, Fabela, has filtered her water for almost 25 years, first through a filter attached to her tap, and then through a handheld pitcher.

At her mother’s kitchen table, Salazar looked over the city’s options for lead service line replacement. She doesn’t qualify for Chicago’s equity program, which replaces lines for free for homeowners whose household income is below 80 percent of the area median income. The city is raising money to cover costs for more homeowners, but it hasn’t told Salazar when it might get to her line. And she doesn’t have $30,000 to pay for her own immediate replacement.

For now, she said, continuing to filter her water is probably the most realistic option. But she thinks the city should have told her and her family about the risk sooner.

“How long have they known?” Salazar asked. “And why did it take them so long to inform us?”

Editor’s note: The Natural Resources Defense Council and Earthjustice are advertisers with Grist. Advertisers have no role in Grist’s editorial decisions.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Chicago was supposed to warn residents about toxic lead pipes last year. Most still have no idea. on Jul 14, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Juanpablo Ramirez-Franco.

A lot of information about the changing climate has disappeared under President Donald Trump’s second term, but the erasure of the National Climate Assessments is “by far the biggest loss we’ve seen,” said Gretchen Gehrke, who monitors federal websites with the Environmental Data and Governance Initiative. The National Climate Assessments were one of the most approachable resources that broke down how climate change will affect the places people care about, she said. The reports were also used by a wide swath of stakeholders — policymakers, farmers, businesses — to guide their decisions about the future. While the reports have been archived elsewhere, they’re no longer as easy to access. And it’s unclear what, if anything, will happen to the report that was planned for 2027 or 2028, which already existed in draft form.

So why did the reports survive Trump’s first term, but not his second? You could view their disappearance in a few different ways, experts said — as a flex of executive power, an escalation in the culture war over climate change, or a strategic attempt to erase the scientific foundation for climate policy. “If you suppress information and data, then you don’t have the evidence you need to be able to create regulations, strengthen regulations, and even to combat the repeal of regulations,” Gehrke said. 

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This isn’t climate denial in the traditional sense. The days of loudly debating the science have mostly given way to something quieter and more insidious: a campaign to withhold the raw information itself. “I don’t know if we’re living in climate denial anymore,” said Leah Aronowsky, a science historian at Columbia Climate School. “We have this new front of denial by erasure.”

By cutting funding for research and withholding crucial data, the Trump administration is making it harder to know exactly how the planet is changing. In April, the administration pulled nearly $4 million in funding from a Princeton program to improve computer models predicting changes in the oceans and atmosphere, claiming the work created “climate anxiety” among young people. That same month, the Environmental Protection Agency failed to submit its annual report to the United Nations detailing the country’s greenhouse gas emissions. In May, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration ended its 45-year tradition of tracking billion-dollar weather disasters. Trump also hopes to shut down the Mauna Loa laboratory in Hawaiʻi, which has measured the steady rise in atmospheric levels of carbon dioxide since the 1950s — the first data to definitively show humans were changing the climate. 

“This kind of wholesale suppression of an entire field of federally sponsored research, to my knowledge, is historically unprecedented,” Aronowsky said.

In a response to a request for comment, the EPA directed Grist to a webpage containing past greenhouse gas emissions reports, as well as a version of what was supposed to be this year’s report obtained by the Environmental Defense Fund. However, the agency confirmed that the latest data has not been officially released. The White House declined to comment, and neither NASA nor NOAA responded in time for publication.

Last year, a leaked training video from Project 2025 — the policy roadmap organized by The Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank — showed a former Trump official declaring that political appointees would have to “eradicate climate change references from absolutely everywhere.” The strategy appears to be designed to boost the fossil fuel industry at a time when clean energy has become competitive and the reality of climate change harder to dismiss, as floods, fires, and heat waves have become perceptibly worse. “We will drill, baby, drill,” Trump said in his inauguration speech in January.

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The administration hasn’t exactly been subtle about its endgame. Lee Zeldin, the head of the EPA, doesn’t deny the reality of climate change (he calls himself a “climate realist”), but he’s zealously dismantled environmental programs and has recommended that the White House strike down the “endangerment finding,” the bedrock of U.S. climate policy. It comes from a 2007 Supreme Court ruling on the Clean Air Act that required the EPA to regulate greenhouse gases as pollutants since they endanger public health. If the administration can convince the courts that climate change isn’t a health consideration, it could end that regulatory obligation. 

“If you’re removing information about climate change, its reality, and its impact on people, then I think it’s a lot easier to make the case that it’s not an environmental health issue,” Gehrke said.

There’s a word for the idea that ignorance can serve political ends: agnotology (from the Greek “agnosis,” or “not knowing”), the study of how knowledge is deliberately obscured. What Trump is doing to information about climate change fits squarely in that tradition, according to Aronowsky: “If you remove it, then in a certain sense, it no longer exists, and therefore, there’s nothing to even debate, right?”

Climate denial first took off in the 1990s, when the oil and gas companies and industry-friendly think tanks started sowing doubt about climate science. Over the decades, as the evidence became rock-solid, those who opposed reducing the use of fossil fuels gradually shifted from outright denying the facts to attacking solutions like wind and solar power. What the Trump administration is doing now marks a radical break from this long-term trend, said John Cook, a climate misinformation researcher at The University of Melbourne in Australia. “This is a 180, not just a turn, but diving into something we’ve never even seen before,” he said. On the other hand, Cook said, the administration is taking a classic climate denial tactic — painting scientists as “alarmists” or conspirators who can’t be trusted — and turning it into government policy.

Half a year in, the second Trump administration’s treatment of climate information hasn’t yet reached the “eradication” levels that Project 2025 aspired to, at least on government websites. The EPA’s climate change website, for instance, is still up and running, even though all references to the phenomenon were erased on the agency’s home page. Most of the website deletions so far have served to isolate climate change as an issue, erasing its relationship to topics such as health and infrastructure, Gehrke said. Up until the National Climate Assessments disappeared, she would have said that “climate erasure” was an inappropriate characterization of what’s happening. “But now, I’m really not so sure,” she said.

Rachel Cleetus, the senior policy director with the Union of Concerned Scientists, thinks that the administration’s actions actually go beyond erasure. “They’re literally trying to change the basis on which a lot of policymaking is advanced — the science basis, the legal basis, and the economic basis,” she said. Her biggest concern isn’t just what facts have been removed, but what political propaganda might replace them. “That’s more dangerous, because it really leaves people in this twilight zone, where what’s real, and what’s important, and what is going to affect their daily lives is just being obfuscated.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Why the federal government is making climate data disappear on Jul 14, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Kate Yoder.

“Local solar, energy efficiency, and other clean energy resources helped make the power grid more reliable and more affordable for consumers,” said Jamie Dickerson, senior director of clean energy and climate programs at the Acadia Center, a regional nonprofit that analyzed clean energy’s financial benefits during the recent heat wave.

On June 24, as temperatures in the Northeast hit their highest levels so far this year, demand on the New England grid approached maximum capacity, climbing even higher than forecast. Then, unexpected outages at power plants reduced available generation by more than 1 gigawatt. As pressure increased, grid operator ISO New England made sure the power kept flowing by reducing exports to other regions, arranging for imports from neighboring areas, and tapping into reserve resources.

At the same time, rooftop and other ​“behind-the-meter” solar panels throughout the region, plus Vermont’s network of thousands of batteries, supplied several gigawatts of needed power, reducing demand on an already-strained system and saving customers millions of dollars. It was a demonstration, supporters say, of the way clean energy and battery storage can make the grid less carbon-intensive and more resilient, adaptable, and affordable as climate change drives increased extreme weather events.

“As we see more extremes, the region still will need to pursue an even more robust and diverse fleet of clean energy resources,” Dickerson said. ​“The power grid was not built for climate change.”

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On June 24, behind-the-meter solar made up as much as 22 percent of the power being used in New England at any given time, according to the Acadia Center. At 3:40 p.m., total demand peaked at 28.5 GW, of which 4.4 GW was met by solar installed by homeowners, businesses, and other institutions.

As wholesale power prices surpassed $1,000 per megawatt-hour, this avoided consumption from the grid saved consumers at least $8.2 million, according to the Acadia Center.

This estimate, however, is conservative, Dickerson said. He and his colleagues also did a more rigorous analysis accounting for the fact that solar suppresses wholesale energy prices by reducing overall demand on the system. By these calculations, the true savings for consumers actually topped $19 million, and even that seems low, Dickerson said.

In Vermont, the state’s largest utility also relieved some of the pressure on the grid by deploying its widespread network of residential and EV batteries. That could save its customers some $3 million by eliminating the utility’s need to buy expensive power from the grid and reducing fees tied to peak demand.

“Green Mountain Power has proven that by making these upfront investments in batteries, you can save ratepayers money,” said Peter Sterling, executive director of trade association Renewable Energy Vermont. ​“It’s something I think is replicable by other utilities in the country.”

Green Mountain Power’s system of thousands of batteries is what is often called a ​“virtual power plant” — a collection of geographically distributed resources like residential batteries, electric vehicles, solar panels, and wind turbines that can work together to supply power to the grid and or reduce demand. In Vermont, Green Mountain Power’s virtual power plant is its largest dispatchable resource, spokesperson Kristin Carlson said. The 72-MW system includes batteries from 5,000 customers, electric school bus batteries, and a mobile, utility-scale battery on wheels.

The network began in 2015 with the construction of a 3.4-megawatt-hour storage facility at a solar field in Rutland, Vermont. Two years later, the utility launched a modest pilot program offering Tesla’s Powerwall batteries to 20 customers, followed in 2018 by a pilot that paid customers to share their battery capacity during high-demand times. In 2022, a partnership with South Burlington’s school district linked electric school buses to the system, and in 2023, state regulators lifted an annual cap on new enrollments it had imposed on a Green Mountain Power program that leases batteries to households. The number of customers with home batteries has since grown by 72%.

“We’ve had a really dramatic expansion,” Carlson said. ​“It is growing by leaps and bounds.”

The network saved consumers money during the heat wave by avoiding the need to buy power at the high prices the market reached that day, but also by helping to lower the ​“capacity fees” charged by ISO New England. These charges are determined by the one hour of highest demand on the grid all year, and then allocated to each utility based on their contributions to that peak. By pulling power from batteries rather than just the grid, Green Mountain Power lowered its part of the peak.

If the afternoon of June 24 remains the time of peak demand for 2025, Green Mountain Power’s 275,000 customers will save about $3 million in total and avoided power purchases, the utility calculated. Looking ahead, more hot weather and further expansion of the utility’s virtual power plant will likely continue to put money back in customers’ pockets, Sterling said: ​“When you play that out over many years, that’s real savings to ratepayers.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline A heat wave hit New England’s grid. Clean energy saved the day. on Jul 13, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Sarah Shemkus, Canary Media.

Nearly 1.3 million Texas homes are similarly situated in parts of the state susceptible to dangerous floodwaters, according to a state estimate. A quarter of the state’s land carries some degree of severe flood risk, leaving an estimated 5 million Texans in possible jeopardy.

Yet, local governments — especially counties — have limited policy tools to regulate building in areas most prone to flooding. The state’s explosive growth, a yearning for inexpensive land, and a state far behind in planning for extreme weather compound the problem, experts said.

While cities can largely decide what is built within their limits, counties have no jurisdiction to implement comprehensive zoning rules that could limit people from living close to the water’s edge.

Camp Mystic and many of the other camps along the Guadalupe River in Kerr County, where the disaster’s wreckage has been concentrated, were far outside city limits and any regulatory authority of the Kerrville City Council.

Some guardrails exist when it comes to building on flood plains. For property owners in flood-prone areas to tap federal flood insurance, localities have to enact minimum building standards set by the federal government. And counties can use a limited supply of federal dollars to relocate residents out of flood zones. However, those programs have had mixed success. Other programs to fortify infrastructure are tied to federally required hazard mitigation plans, which most rural counties in Texas do not have on file.

Keeping people out of the state’s major flood zones altogether is unrealistic if not impossible, experts in flood plain management and infrastructure said.

For one, it’s human nature to want to be near water — whether it’s to live or vacation there.

“Everybody is drawn to water,” said Christopher Steubing, who heads the Texas Floodplain Management Association. “It becomes challenging when you’re telling people what they can and cannot do with their property. It’s a delicate balance, especially in Texas.”

Families have flocked to Texas from more expensive parts of the country in search of a lower cost of living, moving to places more vulnerable to severe weather events like flooding and wildfires intensified by climate change, research shows.

The state’s population has mushroomed over the last decade, spurring a building frenzy in cities and unincorporated areas alike. The state’s total population has grown by more than 7 percent since 2020. Meanwhile, the Hill Country, which includes Kerr County, has grown by about 9 percent.

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Kerr County has seen relatively little population growth in the last few years, said Lloyd Potter, the state’s demographer. But other parts of the Hill Country, including neighboring Gillespie County, have seen relatively steady population growth.

“It is a desirable area for retirees,” Potter said. “It’s beautiful, and it’s reasonably close to urbanized areas, so I think that (growth is) likely to continue.”

Some people don’t have a choice but to live in flood-prone areas, where land is typically cheaper. Often, cities and towns only allow cheaper housing like mobile and manufactured homes to go in places that carry a higher risk of flooding, said Andrew Rumbach, a senior fellow at the Urban Institute who studies climate risk. When a weather disaster destroys a mobile home park, often it gets rebuilt right where it was, Rumbach said.

“The only place you can build it is right back in the flood plain,” Rumbach said.

Determining what can be built on flood plains is largely left to local officials, who may feel uneasy about limiting what property owners do with their land — especially in a state like Texas, known for prioritizing personal liberty — for fear that doing so will harm the local economy or lead to retribution against them at the ballot box, experts said. Often, the aim is not to stop people from building there altogether, but to create standards that make doing so less risky. Even when places adopt new rules, development that predates those rules is often grandfathered in.

How strictly local officials regulate development in flood plains comes down to political will, said Robert Paterson, an associate professor at the University of Texas at Austin’s School of Architecture.

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“Fundamentally, disasters are a human choice,” said Paterson, who specializes in land use and environmental planning. “We can choose to develop in relation to high risk, or we can choose not to. We can stay out of harm’s way.”

Texas adopted its first statewide flood plan last year. As more people move outside of the state’s major urban areas, cities, towns and counties have increasingly adopted flood plain management rules for the first time or enacted stricter ones, Steubing said.

“You have counties that are catching up and adopting standards, but the growth can happen a lot faster than we can get ordinances adopted,” Steubing said.

Even so, localities aren’t tackling development in flood zones quickly enough to keep up with the pace of massive weather disasters, Rumbach said, and states can’t afford to wait for every city and county to adopt stricter standards. State lawmakers, currently weighing what measures to take in the flooding’s aftermath, should consider ways to give cities and counties better tools to manage flood plain development, he said.

“States are the right level of government to do this because they’re close enough to their communities to understand what is needed in different parts of the state and to have regulations that make sense,” Rumbach said. “But they’re far enough away from local governments that we can’t have this race to the bottom where some places are just the Wild West, and they’re able to build whatever they want while others are trying to be responsible stewards of safety and lower property damage.”

There is evidence that some Texas cities are taking flood plain management seriously. Most parts of Texas saw relatively little development on flood plains during the first two decades of this century, according to a study published last year by climate researchers at the University of Miami and other institutions. But parts of the Hill Country like Kerr, Bandera, Burnet and Llano counties saw more flood plain development than other parts of the state, researchers found.

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As the Hill Country population grows, people are increasingly finding themselves in harm’s way, said Avantika Gori, an assistant professor of civil and environmental at Rice University and flood expert. Local and state officials can make different decisions on how to develop around flood plains, she said.

“We can’t prevent extreme rainfall from happening, but we can choose where to develop, where to live, where to put ourselves,” Gori said.

Hill Country, particularly the areas farther from the Interstate 35 corridor, is less developed. There could be a temptation to build more as part of the recovery.

Following the 2015 Wimberley flood, developers pressured regulators to allow for more building in the flood plain as the area’s population continued to grow, said Robert Mace, executive director and chief water policy officer of the Meadows Center for Water and the Environment at Texas State University.

“My advice is, a river is beautiful, but as we’ve all seen, it can be a raging, horrific beast, and it needs to be treated with respect,” Mace said. “Part of that respect comes from making careful decisions about where we build.”

A confluence of factors lead to structures being built on the flood plain, said Jim Blackburn, a professor of environmental law in the Civil and Environmental Engineering Department at Rice University.

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Lax regulations with loopholes that allow existing structures to remain on flood plains, out-of-date flood maps that do not show the true risks posed to residents and economic incentives for developers to build on seemingly attractive land near the water all encourage the development to continue, Blackburn said.

“I get it,” Blackburn said. “People want to be by the river. It’s private property, and we don’t like to tell people what to do with their private property, but there comes a point where we have to say we’ve had enough.”

The federal regulation of development on flood plains is largely done through the National Flood Insurance Program, which subsidizes flood insurance in exchange for implementing flood plain management standards. Under federal law, buildings on a flood plain must be elevated above the anticipated water level during a 100-year storm, or a storm with a 1 percent chance of occurring in any given year. Local governments must implement the program and map flood plains. Local officials may impose additional building restrictions for building in these areas, such as the requirement in Houston that all new structures be elevated two feet above the 500-year flood elevation.

Kerrville last updated its rules overseeing flood plain development in 2011, according to the city’s website. A city spokesperson did not immediately return a request for comment.

Texas historically has been unfriendly to federal environmental regulation, which is viewed as excessive red tape that gets in the way of economic progress, Blackburn said.

That has led to the state being decades behind the curve in reacting to more frequent and intense rainstorms fueled by a warming climate. As temperatures on average go up, more water on the Earth’s surface is evaporated into the atmosphere, and the warmer atmosphere can hold more moisture. That extra moisture in the atmosphere creates more intense and frequent storms, according to the U.S. Geological Survey.

Additional development can also leave flood maps even further out of date as more impermeable surfaces replace natural flood-fighting vegetation, Sharif said.

A 2018 study authored by Hatim Sharif, a civil and environmental engineering professor at the University of Texas at San Antonio and other UTSA researchers found that the 2015 Wimberley flood was worsened by new construction removing natural barriers to flooding, although natural causes were the primary drivers of the flood.

Experts said that the flooding in the less-developed Kerr County was likely not worsened in a significant way by development. Sharif did encourage the state to fund a study similar to the one he conducted on the Wimberley flood to allow regulators and residents to better understand how exactly Friday’s flood occurred.

Sharif also argued in favor of further investments in “impact-based forecasting.” That area of study combines regular forecasting with on-the-ground information about what the impact of that forecast will be and who is in harm’s way to provide clearer warnings to residents, or, in Sharif’s words, “What do 7 inches of rain mean for me as a person staying in a camp near the river?”

Many of the flood plain maps throughout the state are out of date, given the reality of more frequent and intense storms and continuing development, Blackburn said, and local officials face political pressures not to restrict new development with tougher building codes.

In 2011, the city of Clear Lake installed, then removed signs warning that a hurricane storm surge could reach as high as 20 feet in the city after concerns were raised that the signs were impacting property values.

“I think that tells us a lot,” Blackburn said. “We’re more worried about home sales than the safety of the people buying the homes.”

— Alejandra Martinez contributed. Graphics by Carla Astudillo.

Disclosure: Institute for Economic Development – UTSA, Rice University, University of Texas at Austin and University of Texas at San Antonio have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune’s journalism. Find a complete list of them here.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline ‘Disasters are a human choice’: Texas counties have little power to stop building in flood-prone areas on Jul 12, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Joshua Fechter.

As thousands of architects and planners flocked to New Orleans in 2014 for the world’s largest sustainable design conference, the city saw a chance to prove it belonged in the green building big leagues.

City leaders announced at the Greenbuild International Conference and Expo that New Orleans would join Minneapolis, Seattle and a vanguard of other cities in developing a program requiring large building owners to track and disclose their energy use.

New Orleans’ embrace of “energy benchmarking” drew praise at the conference, with one green building expert declaring that the city was “paving the way” for the rest of the country to follow. 

But New Orleans lost momentum, waiting more than a decade before finally approving its benchmarking ordinance on Thursday. In the meantime, New Orleans fell behind about 50 other cities that have approved energy tracking and disclosure requirements for most large buildings.

“The benchmarking ordinance — finally!” New Orleans City Council member Helena Moreno said. “After many, many years, we’re finally getting there.” 

Benchmarking can both shame the power hogs and extol the virtues of the frugal. The data spurs investment in older, inefficient buildings and encourages more climate-conscious design in new ones, advocates say. 

“It’s well understood that one cannot change what one does not measure,” said Christopher Johnson, a board member with the New Orleans chapter of the American Institute of Architects. By passing the ordinance, the city is “empowering owners to take matters into their own hands to improve their buildings.”  

Buildings are responsible for 40 percent of total energy use in the U.S., and about 35 percent of the country’s carbon emissions, according to the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. Compared to much of the country, buildings in New Orleans tend to be older and less energy-efficient, with high air conditioning use and little insulation. 

Under the city’s plan, owners of buildings 50,000 square feet and larger would need to report annual energy use starting in 2026. In 2027, the requirement would expand to buildings more than 20,000 square feet. Noncompliance could result in fines between $1,000 and $3,000. 

The fines aren’t for inefficiency, Council President JP Morrell said. “They’re for failing to report the data.”

Energy use will be tracked on an interactive map and published in an annual report. 

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The ordinance covers about 1,500 properties. While buildings over 20,000 square feet make up just 1 percent of all structures, they account for nearly 40 percent of the city’s total building area, said Greg Nichols, the city’s deputy chief resilience officer. 

Nearly 80 percent of the buildings covered under the ordinance are categorized as commercial, and about 20 percent are residential. Of the commercial buildings, a quarter are warehouses, 16 percent are hotels and 12 percent are offices.  

Funding for implementing the ordinance is covered with $1.5 million from a $50 million greenhouse gas reduction grant awarded to the city by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency last year. Much of the money for the program would support a full-time employee tasked with promoting it and helping property owners with compliance. 

While President Donald Trump has been canceling or reclaiming many climate-related grants awarded by former President Joe Biden’s administration, the EPA grant appears secure, Nichols said. 

“Climate action is under threat right now from the Trump administration,” he said. “But this is an action that the City Council can take right now to show leadership at a time when other efforts are being imperiled.” 

Benchmarking is a key component of the city’s climate action plan. Updated in 2022, the plan aims to cut the city’s greenhouse gas emissions in half before 2035 and achieve net-zero emissions by 2050. The benchmarking ordinance was supposed to be passed by the end of last year, according to the plan. 

“We are a city that’s committed to significant climate goals,” Morrell said. “It is nigh impossible to do that without benchmarking.” 

Cities with similar ordinances have seen building energy use drop by an average of 2.4 percent annually, according to the EPA. At that rate, the agency calculates that a 500,000-square-foot office building can save about $120,000 per year. 

Utility bill envy can be a potent motivator for property owners, Morrell said.

“It encourages a person to say, ‘Wait a second, we have similarly situated buildings, and I’m paying triple the cost in utility fees,’” he said. “‘It might be worth seeing how we can reduce those costs.’”  

New Orleans can look to its city-owned buildings for further proof of benchmarking’s effectiveness. The city began tracking each building’s energy use more than a decade ago. Between 2018 and 2021, energy use fell by about 23 percent, Nichols said. 

Most cities that require energy consumption tracking are concentrated in the Northeast, Midwest and West Coast. Austin, Atlanta, Orlando and Miami are the only other Southern cities with benchmarking ordinances, according to the Institute for Market Transformation. 

“I’d love (New Orleans) to be one of the leading cities in the South in this area,” Nichols said. 

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Concerns about privacy and fines hindered the ordinance’s progress, city leaders said. To ease those worries, the city will now require property owners to disclose a building’s total energy use, not that of its tenants or other occupants. The ordinance would also waive penalties during the first year and cap fines at $3,000. 

Councilmember Oliver Thomas expressed doubts about the ordinance, saying it may do little more than burnish New Orleans’ image. He cited the city’s recycling program, which diverts only about 2 percent of household waste from landfills — a rate that’s less than a tenth of the national average. 

“We have to be more cautious because we keep producing investments and more money that comes from the public to create a lot of trendy things,” he said. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes we made with recycling and some other initiatives.” 

Morrell called the comparison to recycling “inappropriate.” While recycling may be a costly solution for conserving some materials, benchmarking is a low-cost means of conserving both money and energy, he said. 

 “We’re showing that if you’re more energy efficient, you’ll see a direct reduction in costs,” said. 

Tracking the energy consumption of buildings can also spur economic growth, Nichols said. As property owners recognize the savings from energy upgrades, demand for the skilled workers who implement them will grow, he said.

Energy efficiency is projected to be Louisiana’s top clean energy job creator, with about 9,300 new roles for architects and heating, air conditioning and related tradespeople expected by 2030, according to a recent NREL report. The solar industry was expected to create up to 8,300 jobs, and wind energy would add nearly 600 positions during the same period. 

“While solar and wind have huge potential, it’s actually energy efficiency that has the most job potential,” Nichols said. “And that’s because it includes a wide range of jobs, such as HVAC (technicians), electricians and insulation contractors.” 

Benchmarking could also ease demand on the city’s outage-prone power grid, said Jesse George, the New Orleans policy director for the Alliance for Affordable Energy. A spike in power use during the sweltering Memorial Day weekend overwhelmed transmission lines and triggered rolling blackouts that cut the lights and AC for more than 100,000 households. 

“That showed we need every possible tool in our toolbox to reduce our energy load and demand,” George said. “This ordinance, in terms of the cost to implement versus the potential benefit, is a no-brainer.” 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Inside New Orleans’ plan to fix its energy-hogging buildings on Jul 11, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Tristan Baurick.

As the sun goes down, they begin to blink and glow along the water, in the trees, and across open fields. Some species twinkle in unison, others off and on. One of nature’s loveliest light shows enchants onlookers of all ages, especially in the Smoky Mountains, which is home to about 20 percent of the 100 or so species found in the United States.

But many of those who have long delighted in this essential feature of a humid East Coast summer say something feels different. Casual observers and scientists alike are seeing fewer fireflies, and studies show that habitat loss, rising temperatures, light pollution, and drought threaten these beloved bugs. Some populations are already dwindling, including about 18 species in the U.S. and Canada.

“We’ve been hearing anecdotal reports of fireflies’ population declining for years,” said Sarah Lower, a biologist at Bucknell University. “Every time I would go out and give a scientific talk somewhere, somebody would raise their hand and say, ‘You know, I’ve been out in my yard and when I’m with a kid I remember there being fireflies everywhere, now I don’t see them.’”

Lower and Darin J. McNeil, a wildlife ecologist at the University of Kentucky, examined  firefly population patterns last summer, using citizen science data collected nationwide to draw connections with environmental conditions.Though their observations don’t specifically confirm a decline, they suggest reasons we might be seeing fewer fireflies in some places.

Climate change is already reshaping the Southeast with hotter, drier summers — conditions that could push fireflies past their limits. In some wetter regions, though, they may find new habitat. McNeil said these changing patterns are impacting firefly populations already.

“They’re very, very sensitive to temperature and weather and things like that,” McNeil said. “In Southern areas where we expect it to get quite warm — and maybe get outside the comfort zone of fireflies — we might expect the fireflies are going to do poorly.”

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Fireflies are carnivorous beetles. They don’t live long, and spend two years of their short lives in the soil as larvae, hunting slugs and other moisture-loving critters. “Disrupt that access to the soil, McNeil said, “and fireflies disappear very quickly.”

The insects thrive in woodland areas (and, oddly, on farmland, despite herbicides), and habitat loss poses a threat. “We have this effect of fragmentation where people are chopping up the forest into little chunks and then the forest that’s left behind doesn’t get managed in any way,” McNeil said.

McNeil would like to see researchers study how forest management, including prescribed burning, impacts fireflies. In the meantime, there’s a lot that ordinary folks can do to help them thrive.

In western North Carolina, Brannen Basham and Jill Jacobs have built their lives around native landscapes. Their small business, Spriggly’s Beescaping, teaches people about pollinators — and increasingly, fireflies. The pair have a seemingly endless knowledge of fun facts about lightning bugs. 

“One random interesting fact is that these animals never stop glowing,” Jacobs said. “They’re glowing as little eggs, even.” And one of the most common front yard genus, Photuris, use their glow to lure nearby males — then eat them.

They take firefly conservation seriously, running regular workshops to teach people how to make their yards more welcoming to fireflies and pollinators, particularly as climate change disrupts growing seasons.

“Fireflies might enter into their adult form and find themselves emerging into a world in which their favorite plants have either already bloomed or they haven’t bloomed yet,” Basham said. “By increasing the diversity of native plants in your space, you can help ensure that there’s something in bloom at all times of the growing season.”

Basham and Jacobs have a few other tips for helping fireflies thrive. You don’t need to be a scientist to help protect fireflies. In fact, the biggest difference comes from how we care for our own backyards. Here are a few things Basham and Jacobs recommend:

• Turn off your porch lights. Fireflies are incredibly sensitive to artificial light and it can confuse them.
• Ditch the manicured lawn and embrace native plants. In addition to being easier to care for, they suit the local environment and conserve water.
• Leave some leaves behind when you rake in the fall. They’re a great place for fireflies to find food, stay cool, and lay eggs.
• Plant shrubs, tufting grasses, and other, large plants. These can shelter fireflies during rainstorms and other severe weather. 
• If you spot fireflies, jot down when and where you saw them and add your observations to citizen science databases like iNaturalist, Firefly Watch or Firefly Atlas to help scientists collect data.

Even among those who study fireflies, the thrill of spotting them remains magical. Lower has made many excursions to the southern Appalachian mountains to find the famous, ethereal “blue ghosts.” Rather than flicker, the insects emit a continuous bluish-green glow. “You walk into the pitch black woods and at first you can’t really see anything right because your eyes are getting used to the darkness,” Lower said. “But eventually you start to see all these dim glows.”

On other nights, Lower has seen so many fireflies it felt like she was walking among he stars. She’s been lucky enough to witness a phenomenon called spotlighting, in which lightning bugs hover in a circle of light. She’s even used pheromones as a tactic to lure them out of their hiding spots in the dead of winter, feeling elated as the creatures drifted toward her: “You can imagine me dancing and yelling and screaming in the forest.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Seeing fewer fireflies this year? Here’s why, and how you can help. on Jul 11, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Katie Myers.

A new study published Wednesday in the journal Nature estimates that the North Atlantic Ocean alone contains 27 million metric tons of nanoplastic — plastic particles 100 times smaller than the width of a human hair. That figure is 10 times higher than previous estimates of plastic pollution of all sizes across all the world’s oceans, according to the study’s authors. 

The research represents one of the first attempts to quantify marine nanoplastic pollution; previous efforts were constrained by limitations in detection technology. The study suggests that the mass of nanoplastics in the North Atlantic is greater than that of their much larger counterparts, microplastics and macroplastics. Microplastics range in width between 0.001 millimeters and 5 millimeters, making them up to 5 million times bigger than nanoplastics. Macroplastics are even larger.

Helge Niemann, a researcher at the Royal Netherlands Institute for Sea Research, a professor of geochemistry at Utrecht University, and one of the study’s authors, said the findings are concerning for marine biology and human health. Nanoplastics are “not conducive, generally, for life,” he told Grist. He emphasized that the study’s findings are limited to the North Atlantic, but said it is “likely the case” that nanoplastics are widespread across other oceans as well.

Studies suggest that nanoplastics cause inflammation to living cells when ingested, though it’s unclear whether this is because of the particles themselves, the plastic chemicals they can release, or pathogens that they pick up while floating around in the environment. Due to their tiny size, nanoplastics can more easily traverse biological membranes than their larger counterparts. 

Tracey Woodruff, a professor of reproductive health and the environment at the University of California, San Francisco, who was not involved in the new research, said she expects that nanoplastics will be linked to many of the same health risks as microplastics. In animals, these include reproductive issues, intestinal problems, and colon and lung cancer. Microplastics also bioaccumulate, meaning they travel up the food chain as larger animals eat smaller ones. 

“Our hypothesis is that … nanoplastics could travel more widely in the body even than microplastics, and therefore could have more adverse health consequences,” Woodruff said. It’s also possible that future research will discover that nanoplastics are present in the human body at even higher concentrations than microplastics.

The study’s authors obtained their data during a research cruise in 2020. They collected water samples at 12 locations of varying depths across the North Atlantic Ocean. Five samples were taken from within the North Atlantic gyre, one of the world’s five circular ocean currents that has become famous for its “garbage patch,” an enormous collection of plastic trash and other waste.

The researchers looked at nanoplastic concentrations at three different depths at each location: a layer just 10 meters below the surface, a middle layer at 1,000 meters deep, and 30 meters above the seafloor. Back in the lab, they used a novel type of mass spectrometry — an analysis that can identify different kinds of plastic — to distinguish between three polymers. Polyethylene terephthalate, or PET, the type of plastic used in water bottles, was the most widespread at every depth, followed by polyvinyl chloride, used in water pipes, upholstery, children’s toys, and other products; and polystyrene, used in plastic foam. 

Overall, nanoplastic concentration was the highest closer to the surface at 18 milligrams per square meter and lowest near the seafloor at about 5.5 milligrams per square meter. The researchers suspect that this distribution is due to the deterioration of bigger pieces of plastic that are suspended near the surface, which may sink slowly unless transported downward by, for example, animals that have eaten plastic and then died.

Eighteen milligrams per square meter might not seem like much. But, it’s the equivalent of containing seven mosquitoes in a 3-foot by 3-foot box, assuming each mosquito weighs roughly 2.5 milligrams. Multiply that by the vast volume of an ocean, and you end up with a whole lot of plastic. 

“I would argue as a toxicologist that if you see something in micrograms per liter in the open ocean, that’s quite a high concentration,” said Martin Wagner, a biology professor at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology who was not involved in the study.

Wagner cautioned that the study’s major extrapolation — that there are 27 million metric tons of nanoplastic in the North Atlantic, more than the weight of 26,000 Eiffel towers — relies on “very few samples.” Still, Wagner said it makes sense that there would be an exorbitant amount of nanoplastic given the high volume of larger plastic fragments that end up in the oceans each year. According to the United Nations, roughly 20 million tons of plastic enter aquatic ecosystems each year. This includes lakes, rivers, and streams, as well as oceans, but for much of that pollution, the ocean is the final destination.

“We’ve basically been dumping plastic in the ocean for decades,” Woodruff said. “It doesn’t go away, it just breaks down into smaller plastics, so it does make sense that you would find more nanoplastics than macro and microplastics.”

Notably, the type of analysis that the study’s authors used was unable to detect the world’s two most common plastic polymers: polyethylene and polypropylene, meaning their estimate for overall nanoplastics is likely conservative. Still, the study’s findings could provide more realistic data for researchers who are trying to model the real-world impacts and toxicity of nanoplastic pollution.

Niemann said more research is needed on nanoplastics, including on their prevalence globally. He recently won a grant to research what happens to nanoplastics once they’re in the ocean, including whether any types of bacteria can naturally break them down. Manually trying to clean them from the global oceans’ more than 330 million cubic miles of water is “not really a good idea,” he said.

Both Wagner and Woodruff said the research adds to the growing body of  evidence supporting limits on global plastic production — rather than allowing it to triple by 2050, as projected by the United Nations Environment Programme. World leaders are expected to continue debating plastic production limits during the next round of negotiations over the U. N.’s plastics treaty, scheduled to take place next month in Geneva, Switzerland. 

“This reinforces how important it is to cap [plastic production], leave fossil fuels in the ground, and look to alternatives,” Woodruff said.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The oceans may contain much, much more plastic than previously thought on Jul 11, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Joseph Winters.

Louisiana’s law was based on a template created by the American Legislative Exchange Council, or ALEC, a conservative organization that brings legislators and corporate lobbyists together to draft bills “dedicated to the principles of limited government, free markets and federalism.” The law maintains that Louisiana, in order to minimize its reliance on “foreign adversary nations” for energy, must ensure that natural gas and nuclear power are eligible for “all state programs that fund ‘green energy’ or ‘clean energy’ initiatives.” 

But natural gas, also known as methane gas, is no more “natural” than any other fossil fuel. Its primary ingredient is methane, an intense heat-trapping gas that is far more potent than the carbon pollution produced by coal and oil, though it doesn’t stay in the atmosphere as long. It’s often marketed as a “bridge fuel” — a less harmful fossil fuel that can be used as communities transition away from coal — but studies have found that over the long term, the planet-warming impact of the natural gas industry may be equivalent to that of coal. That’s because gas pipelines often leak; according to an Environmental Defense Fund analysis, natural gas pipelines in the U.S. allow between 1.2 million and 2.6 million tons of methane to escape into the atmosphere each year. 

Louisiana State Representative Jacob Landry first introduced a near-identical bill to the model posted on ALEC’s website and to the other bills that have passed in Ohio, Tennessee, and Indiana. (The Washington Post reported in 2023 that ALEC was involved in Ohio’s bill; ALEC denies involvement.) Landry, who represents a small district in the southern part of the state, is the recipient of significant fossil-fuel-industry funding — and co-owns two oil and gas consulting firms himself. During his campaign for the state Legislature, Landry received donations from at least 15 fossil-fuel-affiliated companies and PACs, including Exxon Mobil (which has also funded ALEC) and Phillips 66. Those donations alone totaled over $20,000. 

Representative Landry did not respond to multiple requests for comment. ALEC did not get back to Grist in time for publication.

While Louisiana has one of the least reliable grids in the country, that lack of reliability is in large part due to the state’s reliance on natural gas, which provides most of its electricity, according to a 2025 report from the Louisiana Legislative Auditor’s Office. 

“Best practices have found that gas plants are susceptible to large-scale failures during extreme weather,” the auditors wrote. “Diversifying the energy sources used for electricity generation is a priority.” 

Bills that benefit both the fossil fuel industry and the individual lawmakers who introduce them aren’t exactly a new genre in Louisiana, said Laura Peterson, a senior analyst with the Union of Concerned Scientists. What’s less standard is that this one is dressed up in climate-friendly language. 

“Louisiana is a classic example of a captured state,” Peterson said. “Their state economy is just so dependent on fossil fuels and petrochemicals.” (The amount of money the fossil fuel industry brings to Louisiana’s people, though, has been on the decline since the turn of the century.) 

The state accounts for about 10 percent of the country’s natural gas production and holds about 6 percent of U.S. natural gas reserves. Natural gas is already used to generate about three-quarters of the state’s electricity, and building out more pipeline projects to carry liquefied natural gas, or LNG, won’t necessarily make electricity bills cheaper for residents, Peterson said.

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“Building LNG infrastructure is not going to lower anyone’s energy prices in the short term,” since it takes many years to build a pipeline, Peterson said. “And there’s a lot of research that shows that overreliance on gas leaves power grids vulnerable to extreme weather, which Louisiana has a lot of.” 

Jeffrey Clark, president of the Louisiana Advanced Power Alliance — an industry group representing both renewable and fossil fuel energy companies and investors — testified in opposition to the bill in early June. 

“This legislation is being promoted as a solution to Louisiana’s reliability challenges. But with all due respect, it is a solution in search of a problem,” Clark said. “We support fossil fuels as a key part of the nation’s energy mix, but codifying them as the only acceptable path forward dismisses a growing body of evidence that grid reliability depends on resource diversity.” 

Fossil fuel advocacy groups lauded the move. Larry Behrens of the nonprofit Power the Future wrote that the legislation turns Louisiana into an “energy sanctuary state,” taking “a direct shot at the China-backed solar and wind lobby.”

Reclassifying natural gas as “green” energy means that proposed natural gas pipelines may be able to access funding that would otherwise have gone to new solar or wind projects; it may also make natural gas companies more appealing to environmentally conscious investors. ALEC, the right-wing think tank that provided the template language for Landry’s bill, noted in a press release that resolutions like this could pave the way for more AI data centers in the state, too. “Redefining ‘green energy’ allows utilities to continue using natural gas while fulfilling state ‘green energy’ or ‘clean energy’ initiatives,” ALEC staffer Mark Lucas wrote. 

Over the years, ALEC has succeeded in getting laws that benefit fossil fuel companies passed across the country. Recently the group, which was founded in the 1970s, has helped draft legislation criminalizing grassroots protest against pipelines, gas terminals, and other fossil fuel infrastructure — versions of that bill had passed in 17 states by 2022. They have also drafted bills aiming to punish economic boycotts of the oil industry. And there are currently 114 different model policies related to energy on their website, 23 of which specifically address “green energy.” 

“It’s classic greenwashing, right?” said Peterson of the new Louisiana law — using the language of sustainability to describe an activity that’s actually not sustainable at all. “The intent of these laws is to allow the buildout of fossil fuel infrastructure, which will perpetuate the use of fossil fuels for decades to come.” 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Louisiana is the latest state to greenwash gas on Jul 10, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Sophie Hurwitz.

Before long, a maze of makeshift holes revealed shallow puddles along the otherwise arid riverbed. The frantic digging had worked — there was water. There was just one big problem: It wasn’t blue. It was a muddy brown color, and villagers worried that consuming it would make them ill. But as there were scarcely other options, many took their chances with drinking it and bathing with it. 

Almost a year later, the persistent drought has led to a deluge of devastation on the region’s food system. Corn yields dropped 70 percent across the country, causing consumer prices to double. Thousands of cattle were lost to thirst and starvation. A local UNICEF emergency food distribution lost all of the food crops it harvested, which forced the NGO to reduce charitable food provisions from three meals a week to one. Child malnutrition levels in Mudzi doubled, driving up the demand for healthcare, and causing a quarter of healthcare clinics to run out of water reserves. Between January and March, about 6 million people in Zimbabwe faced food insecurity.

According to a new report by the U.S. National Drought Mitigation Center, or NDMC, and the UN Convention to Combat Desertification, or UNCCD, the combined effects of global warming, drought, and El Niño have triggered similar crises all over the world, from Mexico City to the Mekong Delta.

Using impact reports alongside government data, scientific and technical research, and media coverage of major drought events, the authors examined case-by-case how droughts compound poverty, hunger, energy insecurity, and ecosystem collapse in climate hotspots around the world. They measured impacts in 2023 and 2024, when the planet saw some of the most widespread and damaging drought events in recorded history. What they found is a lesson and a warning sign: Increasingly severe droughts caused by climate change are laying waste to  ecosystems and economies everywhere. 

“This report is a blistering reminder that climate change and punishing drought are already devastating lives, livelihoods, and food access,” said Million Belay of the International Panel of Experts on Sustainable Food Systems, and general coordinator of the Alliance for Food Sovereignty in Africa, who wasn’t involved in the research. “We need to get serious about resilience and real adaptation.”

Mexico City

A focal point in the analysis is Mexico, where prolonged drought conditions provoked a water crisis that has had repercussions for food affordability and access. 

The situation began to intensify in 2023, when the country entered into a period of historically low rainfall. By June, the bulk of Mexico’s reservoirs dropped below 50 percent capacity. The rainy winter of 2023 brought some relief, but not enough. 

By the next summer, 90 percent of the country was experiencing some level of drought, and Mexico City’s water supply system reached a record low of 39 percent capacity. Abnormally low rainfall and high temperatures, made worse by inefficient water infrastructure and over-extraction of the city’s aquifer, would persist into early 2025. These struggles to obtain water have been further exacerbated by distribution needs as mandated by a water-sharing treaty Mexico has long shared with the United States. 

A severe lack of water has been found to be closely linked with food insecurity, as water scarcity impacts food access through reductions in agricultural production that can fuel food shortages and higher grocery prices. Roughly 42 percent of Mexico’s population was food-insecure in 2021, according to national statistics, with consumer food inflation rates steadily climbing since then. Price hikes were eventually reflected in grocery stores, causing the costs of produce like cilantro to soar by 400 percent, alongside other climbing price tags for goods like onions, broccoli, and avocado. 

“Ripple effects can turn regional droughts into global economic shocks,” said NDMC’s Cody Knutson, who co-authored the report. “No country is immune when critical water-dependent systems start to collapse.” 

Amazon Basin

During those same years, the Amazon River Basin became another drought and hunger hotspot. According to the new report, climate change caused waterways to drop to historically low levels in September of 2023. Drinking water became contaminated by mass die-offs of marine life, and local communities weren’t able to eat the fish they rely on. 

Supply chain transportation was also greatly affected, as the low water levels made it impossible for boats to travel in and out of certain regions. Brazil’s AirForce would be deployed to distribute food and water to several states where river supply routes were impassable. 

Residents in some towns dug wells on their own properties to replace river water they would normally depend on for drinking, cooking, and cleaning, according to the UN-backed report. Others were stuck waiting on government aid. Disruptions to drinking water and food supplies due to low river levels continued through late 2024 as the drought persisted. By September, waterways that had previously been navigable were bone-dry. 

A 2025 report released by the nonprofit ACAPS found that many communities in the Amazon region were already believed to be suffering malnutrition, making them more vulnerable to the emerging health and food insecurity effects of the drought. 

Climate change plays “a critical role in food security,” said FAO economist Jung-eun Sohn, who is unaffiliated with the UNCCD report. He noted that warming not only can impact both availability of and access to food, but that natural hazards are “one of three main risks of food insecurity,” along with conflict and economic risks, in hunger hotspots. 

Mekong Delta 

Though a central contributor to the interconnected water-and-food crisis, climate change isn’t the only factor in many hunger hotspots — failing infrastructure and inefficiencies in water delivery systems have also been flagged as critical contributors to widespread water shortages. The compounding effect of El Niño, or a naturally-occurring weather phenomena that drives above-average global heat and more intense natural disasters in parts of the planet, is another culprit. 

“It’s now abundantly clear that industrial, chemical-intensive agriculture, with its high water demands and uniform crops, is deeply vulnerable to drought and intensifying the crisis,” said Belay, the IPES expert. 

One study found that saltwater intrusion, much like what persistently plagues the Mekong River Delta in Vietnam, also causes a significant reduction in food production. The watershed flows through six Asian countries, and over 20 million people depend on the rice grown in the region, which is Vietnam’s most productive agricultural area. It is also the region of Vietnam that is most vulnerable to hunger, with up to half of its rural households struggling to afford enough food. 

So when an early heatwave struck the Mekong Delta in 2024, and an abnormally long dry spell followed suit, causing canals to dry up, excessive salinity, heat, and water scarcity killed farmers’ catch in droves, reducing what communities were able to supply and sell, which led to shortages that prompted the local government to intervene and help producers quickly sell their wares. As the drought persisted, communities undertook other desperate measures to mitigate losses; renovating ditches, constructing temporary reservoirs, digging wells, and storing fresh water. Even so, according to the report, up to 110,000 hectares of agricultural resources, including fruit crops, rice fields, and aquaculture, have been impacted in the last year by the drought and excess salinity. The situation contributed to rice shortages, prompting a widespread inflationary effect on market prices.

“These instances highlight how interconnected our global economies and food supplies are,” Paula Guastello, NDMC drought impacts researcher and lead author of the report, told Grist. “Drought has widespread implications, especially when it occurs on such a large, intense scale as during the past few years. In today’s global society, it is impossible to ignore the effects of drought occurring in far-off lands.” 

All told, the authors argue that without major reductions in greenhouse gas emissions, rising temperatures will lead to more frequent and severe droughts by continuing to inflate heat, evaporation, and volatile precipitation patterns. All the while, urbanization, land use changes, and population growth are expected to continue to strain water resources and influence which assets and areas are most vulnerable to drought impacts. The world’s resilience to those impacts, the report denotes, ultimately depends on the fortification of ecosystems, the adoption of changes to water management, and the pursuit of equitable resource access. 

“Proactive drought management is a matter of climate justice, equitable development, and good governance,” said UNCCD Deputy Executive Secretary Andrea Meza in a statement about the report.

Stronger early warning systems and real-time drought impact monitoring, for example, those that assess conditions known to fuel food and water insecurity, are some of the ways countries can better fortify their systems in preparedness for the next big drought event. Others include watershed restoration, the broad revival of traditional cultivation practices, and the implementation of alternative water supply technologies to help make infrastructure more climate resilient. Adaptation methods, however, must also account for the most vulnerable populations, the authors say, and require global cooperation, particularly along critical food trade routes. 

“Drought is not just a weather event,” said report co-author and NDMC assistant director Kelly Helm Smith. “It can be a social, economic, and environmental emergency. The question is not whether this will happen again, but whether we will be better prepared next time.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Drought is draining water supplies and driving up food costs where you’d least expect on Jul 9, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Ayurella Horn-Muller.

From a climate perspective, the legislation’s most significant rollbacks are aimed at industries, such as renewable energy, not individuals. But there will be very real impacts for taxpayers hoping to decarbonize their homes.

The 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, or IRA, provided tax credits for climate-friendly purchases ranging from heat pumps to solar arrays through 2032. That timeframe has been cut to as little as a few months.

“This bill is going to take away a lot of assistance from consumers,” said Lowell Ungar, director of federal policy for the nonprofit American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy. He noted that 2 million people used the home improvement tax credit in its first year alone.

The good news is that the bill does not affect the billions of dollars that the IRA already sent to state efficiency and electrification rebate programs, and that much of that money will remain available beyond the federal sunsets. But, Ungar added, the tax credits can still save people thousands of dollars before they vanish. 

“If consumers are able to make the investment now,” he said, “it will help them out.”

For those looking to act, here is a roundup of when credits will be going away. 

Buy an EV before October

New electric vehicles that meet federal domestic manufacturing requirements qualify for a tax credit of up to $7,500. While credits on foreign-made EVs aren’t offered directly to consumers, automakers do get them and often pass the savings along through leases. Used EVs under $25,000 that are purchased at a dealer are also eligible for up to a $4,000 credit. 

All of this goes away on September 30. There will be no credits after that. Ultimately, this will make new electric vehicles more expensive and put the technology further out of reach for low to moderate income Americans. 

The income caps on the EV credits still apply, limiting the benefit on new EVs to those households earning less than $300,000 and on used vehicles to those earning less than $150,000. There is an MSRP limit of $80,000 for new cars too.

Strangely, the tax credit for installing an EV charger (up to $1,000) runs through June of next year. 

Make home improvements by end of the year

The remarkably vast Energy Efficient Home Improvement Credit provides up to $2,000 toward qualified heat pumps, water heaters, biomass stoves or biomass boilers. It offers another $1,200 toward efficiency upgrades such as insulation, doors, windows and even home energy audits. 

These are going away on December 31. All items must be “placed in service” by then in order to qualify, though a reminder: Tax credits lower your tax liability, but don’t come back as rebates. You must have a tax bill in order to benefit, which may not be the case for certain low-income households. 

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Pay for solar this year

The most valuable IRA incentive being axed is the Residential Clean Energy Credit. It covers 30 percent of clean energy systems such as solar panels, wind turbines and geothermal heat pumps, and there is no cap. With the average cost of a solar system in the U.S. just north of $28,000, that means a tax credit would be worth around $8,500. That credit vanishes at the end of this year, though the law refers to the “expentitures” being made by then so that could mean paying for — but not necessarily installing — a system by then. 

Like with other credits, Ungar suggests confirming any changes with a tax professional. He also said that the potential for higher tariffs is another reason to move quickly. But, he said, even after the credits go away, many of these improvements could still make financial sense over the long term. 

“With or without the tax credit, these improvements bring energy savings that lowers energy bills,” he said. “In some cases, improvements are going to be a no-brainer regardless.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Congress is killing clean energy tax credits. Here’s how to use them before they disappear. on Jul 9, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Tik Root.

“We know we get rains. We know the river rises,” he said as a desperate search for survivors continued along the Guadalupe, a river that rose more than 30 feet in just five hours last week. “But nobody saw this coming.”

County records show that some Kerr County officials did see it coming and raised concerns about the county’s outdated flood warning system nearly a decade ago. 

Their first request for help updating the technology was denied in 2017, when Kerr County applied for roughly $1 million in federal Hazard Mitigation Grant Program aid from the Texas Department of Emergency Management. County officials tried again in 2018 after Hurricane Harvey swept Texas, killing 89 people and causing some $159 billion in damage. Again, the state denied the request, directing most federal assistance toward more densely populated areas, including Houston.  

As neighboring counties invested in better emergency warning systems, Kerr County — the heart of Flash Flood Alley — never modernized an antiquated flood warning system that lacks basic components like sirens and river gauges. At least 110 people, including 27 children, have died so far in the deadliest floods the state has seen since 1921. Most of them drowned in Kerr County, largely because they didn’t know the water was coming. The search for at least 161 other people continues.

The matter of who should have fronted the money for flood system upgrades is at the heart of swelling controversy in Texas. Public outrage has spurred the kind of action that, had it happened years ago, might have saved lives. “The state needs to step up and pay,” said Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick on Monday this week. “The governor and I talked this morning at length about it, and he said, ‘We’re just gonna do it.’”

But even as Texas races to prepare Kerr County for future extreme weather events, the federal government is speeding in the opposite direction. Since taking office in January, President Donald Trump has taken an ax to the country’s resilience efforts, undoing years of progress toward helping communities withstand the consequences of climate change.  

In April, the Trump administration canceled the Building Resilient Communities Program, or BRIC, which funnels billions of dollars to states, municipalities, and tribal nations so they can prepare for future disasters. Ironically, Trump signed this program into law during his first term. But now, in the name of eliminating “waste, fraud, and abuse,” the Trump administration has cut $750 million in new resilience funding and clawed back nearly $900 million in grant funding already promised but not yet disbursed to states for improvements like upgrading stormwater systems, performing prescribed burns, and building flood control systems. FEMA also cancelled $600 million in Flood Mitigation Assistance funding to communities this year, money that helps states protect buildings from flooding. Government analyses have determined that every dollar spent preparing for a disaster reaps $6 or more in costs saved down the road.

The federal Hazard Mitigation Program funding that Texas Governor Greg Abbott requested alongside his request for a major disaster declaration following the catastrophic flooding that began July 4 — the same pot of money Kerr County tried to tap to modernize its flood warning infrastructure in 2017 and 2018 — is still pending as of Tuesday, according to the governor’s office. 

“Historically, if a state has requested Hazard Mitigation Grant Program funding as part of the disaster declaration, it’s been approved,” said Anna Weber, a senior policy analyst at the Natural Resources Defense Council. But the government hasn’t approved that type of funding in months. “Ultimately, the president has the authority to declare the disaster declaration and determine what’s included in that declaration.”

In sum, these actions at the federal level make it more likely that communities across the country will be caught flatfooted as climate change makes extreme weather events more intense and unpredictable. “There’s so many communities that, when they look at their flooding data, their disaster risk data, their future climate projections, they understand their risk and they understand what their new normal may be,” said Victoria Salinas, who led FEMA’s resilience initiatives under former president Joe Biden. “But then they are powerless to do things about it because it often requires money, expertise, and people power.” 

Rural and underprivileged areas like Kerr County are at particular risk. They often lack the resources and know-how to obtain resilience funding from state and federal officials. The BRIC program had a technical assistance arm dedicated to helping these “lower capacity” communities develop strong applications. That’s also gone. “As far as we know, not only will there not be technical assistance provided through this program going forward, but there are communities out there that were, say, one year into a three year technical assistance agreement through this program that are now unsure about whether or not they’re going to be able to continue,” Weber said.

That means it’ll largely be up to states and counties to fund preparedness projects. It’s not a guarantee that states will take action or that communities will embrace solutions. Even a state like Texas, which has the second-biggest economy in the country, has been loath to help counties pay for disaster resilience initiatives. A measure that would have established a government council and grant program to reform local disaster warning systems across Texas failed in the state Senate this year. 

“I can tell you in hindsight, watching what it takes to deal with a disaster like this, my vote would probably be different now,” said state Representative Wes Virdell, a Republican from central Texas who voted against the bill.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Amid historic Texas floods, Trump retreats from disaster preparedness on Jul 8, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Zoya Teirstein.

“It’s the worst-case scenario for a very extreme, very sudden, literal wall of water,” said Daniel Swain, a climate scientist at the University of California, Los Angeles, during a livestream Monday morning. “I don’t think that’s an exaggeration in this case, based on the eyewitness accounts and the science involved.”

It will take some time for scientists to do proper “attribution” studies here, to say for instance how much extra rain they can blame on climate change. But generally speaking, this disaster has climate change’s marks all over it — a perfect storm of conspiring phenomena, both in the atmosphere and on the ground. “To people who are still skeptical that the climate crisis is real, there’s such a clear signal and fingerprint of climate change in this type of event,” said Jennifer Francis, senior scientist at the Woodwell Climate Research Center.

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This tragedy actually started hundreds of miles to the southeast, out at sea. As the planet has warmed, the gulf has gotten several degrees Fahrenheit hotter. That’s turned it into a giant puddle of fuel for hurricanes barreling toward the Gulf Coast, since those storms feed on warm seawater. 

Even when a hurricane isn’t brewing, the gulf is sending more moisture into the atmosphere — think about how your bathroom mirror fogs up when you draw a hot bath. This pushes wet, unstable air higher and higher into the atmosphere, condensing into clouds. As these systems release heat, they grow even more unstable, creating a towering thundercloud that can drop extreme amounts of rainfall. Indeed, preceding the floods, the amount of moisture above Texas was at or above the all-time record for July, according to Swain. “That is fairly extraordinary, in the sense that this is a place that experiences very moist air this time of year,” Swain said. 

That meant the system both had the requisite moisture for torrential rainfall, plus the instability that creates the thunderstorms that make that rain fall very quickly. This storm was dumping two to four inches of rain an hour, and it was moving very slowly, so it essentially stalled over the landscape — a gigantic atmospheric fire hose soaking Central Texas.

Making matters worse, the ground in this part of Texas is loaded with limestone, which doesn’t readily absorb rainwater compared to places with thick layers of soil at the surface. Rainwater rapidly flowed down hills and valleys and gathered in rivers, which is why the Guadalupe rose so fast. “That means that not very much of the rain is going to soak into the ground, partly because the soil is shallow and partly because there’s steep slopes in the terrain, so that water is able to run off fairly quickly,” said John Nielsen-Gammon, Texas’ state climatologist and director of the Southern Regional Climate Center at Texas A&M University

This is exactly the kind of precipitation event that’s increasing fastest in a warming climate, Swain added. In California, for instance, alternating periods of extremely wet conditions and extremely dry ones are creating “weather whiplash.” As the world’s bodies of water heat up, more moisture can evaporate into the atmosphere. And due to some basic physics, the warmer it gets, the more moisture the atmosphere can hold, so there’s more potential for heavier rainfall. 

“The Gulf of Mexico has been going through several marine heat waves recently, and so it’s just adding that much more heat to the atmosphere, loading it up for more extreme rainfall events,” said Brett Anderson, senior meteorologist at AccuWeather. “A lot of these places, 1-in-100-year floods may be becoming more like 1-in-50, even 1-in-10.” AccuWeather’s preliminary estimate puts the economic damage of the flooding at between $18 billion and $22 billion.

The Trump administration did make deep staffing cuts to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration earlier this year, but it’s too early to tell why some people didn’t get warnings in time. The National Weather Service did indeed provide multiple flood warnings, and some people are reporting they got alerts on their cell phones, prompting them to escape. Still, with so many people dead or missing, they either didn’t get the alerts or didn’t adequately understand the danger they were in. Officials in Kerr County previously considered a more robust warning system for Guadalupe River floods, but rejected it as too expensive.

For the girls and staff at the summer camp, the deluge arrived at the worst possible time, in the early hours of the morning while they slept. “In my view — and this seems to be the consensus view of meteorologists — this is not really a failure of meteorology here,” Swain said. “To my eye, the Weather Service predictions, they certainly weren’t perfect, but they were as good as could have been expected given the state of the science.”

Swain warns that if the administration follows through on its promises of further more cuts to NOAA, forecasts of flooding could well suffer. “That really could be catastrophic,” he said. “That will 100 percent be responsible for costing lives.” 

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

• Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.
• Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.
• Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The science behind Texas’ catastrophic floods on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

No matter where you live, extreme weather can hit your area and change your life. Whether it’s a hurricane, winter storm, flash flood, tornado, wildfire, or heat wave, disasters can damage or destroy your home and property, cause lengthy power outages, and stall civic services. Grist created a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after these traumatic and chaotic events, as well as where to find and build support in your community. We list the most accurate weather updates and emergency alerts, explain the roles different agencies play in disaster aid, and provide details on your rights. 

We gathered need-to-know information from government websites, trusted nonprofits and community organizations, and news media. It’s all fact-checked and will be updated periodically. Have something to add? Reach out: community@grist.org.

The resources above were made to help you quickly sift through urgent information. They’re easy to load if you have little cell service or download as a PDF for offline reading if a storm knocks out power.

Everything on this page is available for republication and/or translation with credit to Grist and the author. The republishing link is located at the bottom left of each guide. We encourage you to adapt these, adding contact information, instructions, and updates for your town, state, or tribal nation.

How to protect your health if a disaster strikes your community 

Your guide to the biggest health consequences of extreme weather — from mosquito-and tick-borne illnesses to mental health issues — and how to best prepare for them.

Zoya Teirstein Staff Writer

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Disaster Preparation Recovery Resources on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Lyndsey Gilpin.

This is the idea behind the “cool roof.” Last month, Atlanta joined a growing number of American cities requiring that new roofs be more reflective. That significantly reduces temperatures not just in a building, but in the surrounding urban environment. “I really wanted to be able to approach climate change in the city of Atlanta with a diversity of tactics,” said City Council member Liliana Bakhtiari, who authored the bill, “because it’s far easier to change a local climate than it is a global one.”

Because cities set their own building codes, they can regulate roofs regardless of the whims of the Trump administration, which is aggressively rolling back climate policies. Experts say cool roofs are a simple, relatively cheap, and effective way to save people from extreme heat. “I like to say that reflective materials transform rooftops from problem to power,” said Daniel J. Metzger, a senior fellow at Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center for Climate Change Law. “Cool roofs give homeowners the power to improve health outcomes and air quality while saving money on their own energy bills.”

Other cities, including Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York, have also passed cool-roof ordinances, but they often only cover flat roofs, like you’d see on a commercial building. Atlanta’s ordinance covers all roofs, though it only mandates that new ones be made cool — it’s not forcing anyone to rip theirs off if it’s not time to replace. So it’ll take some time for every roof in the city to change, but Atlanta is also rapidly growing with new construction. “It’s going to be kind of a gradual, ongoing, but ideally a permanent response to rising temperatures,” said Brian Stone, director of the Urban Climate Lab at Georgia Tech. “This is pushing Atlanta into one of the more forward-looking cities.”

The Smart Surfaces Coalition — a nonprofit that works with cities to enact cool roof ordinances — estimates that Atlanta’s new building code will cool the city overall by 2.4 degrees Fahrenheit during peak summer temperatures, and by as much as 6.3 degrees in the city’s hottest neighborhoods. It further calculates that over a 35 year period, the ordinance will result in $310 million in energy savings, due to residents having to run their air conditioners less. “It’s a super cost-effective way to make the city healthier, more competitive, cut energy bills, and protect jobs,” said Greg Kats, founder and CEO of the Smart Surfaces Coalition.

A cool roof is a passive technology that keeps working on its own. For the flat roof of a commercial building, a simple coat of white paint will do. Manufacturers also make special cool roof shingles that reflect more sunlight. Whatever the strategy, cool roofs are no more expensive to install than traditional ones, and can even be cheaper. They also extend the life of a roof because there’s less wear and tear of the material expanding in the heat, then contracting when it cools down. 

Like any other city, Atlanta is struggling with the urban heat island effect: As a summer day wears on, the built environment of asphalt, brick, and concrete absorbs more of the sun’s warmth. This raises temperatures perhaps 20 degrees Fahrenheit above the surrounding countryside, where there’s more vegetation releasing water vapor to cool the air. At night, that stored heat slowly releases from a city, keeping temperatures abnormally high into the morning. 

The urban heat island effect gets especially bad in lower-income neighborhoods, where there’s typically less tree cover than in richer areas. “These folks are getting the triple whammy,” said Mark Conway, a councilmember who sponsored Baltimore’s cool roof ordinance. “Not only is it hotter in those areas of the city, but then also, they don’t have the trees and the shade to help them, nor can they pay for the AC.” 

The urban heat island effect gets extra dangerous during heat waves that stretch several days, because human bodies can’t get a break from relentlessly high temperatures. The stress builds and builds, in particular imperiling those with asthma and heart conditions, as the body tries to pump more blood to cool itself off. Infants and the elderly are also at higher risk because their bodies don’t cool as efficiently as other people. Accordingly, extreme heat kills twice as many people in the United States each year as hurricanes and tornadoes combined.

While getting more air conditioners into more homes will help save lives as cities get hotter, it’s not a cure-all. For one, the units use a lot of energy, and Atlanta’s residents already deal with some of the highest energy burdens in the country, meaning a significant proportion of their income goes to electric bills. Two, air conditioners actually make urban heat worse: They work by extracting heat from indoor air and pumping it outside — that’s why you feel a blast of hot air if you walk by one of them. And if the grid goes down because too many people are running their AC and other appliances at once, everyone’s now at much higher risk. “When a house loses power, if its only intervention to stay cool is air conditioning, it’s very likely that people inside of that home are going to quickly overheat,” said Grace Wickerson, senior manager of climate and health at the Federation of American Scientists, a nonprofit thinktank.

At the same time, American cities are complementing cool roofs with more trees — Cleveland, for example, has set a goal of getting all its residents within a 10-minute walk of a green space by 2045. Trees provide shade and also release cooling water vapor, like rural vegetation does. Parks and gardens also soak up rainwater, preventing flooding. “There’s just a long litany of good reasons to plant as many trees as possible, and cool roofs don’t take away from that,” Metzger said. “They work together to overall cool the city.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Atlanta is embracing a cheap, effective way to beat urban heat: ‘cool roofs’ on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

This is the idea behind the “cool roof.” Last month, Atlanta joined a growing number of American cities requiring that new roofs be more reflective. That significantly reduces temperatures not just in a building, but in the surrounding urban environment. “I really wanted to be able to approach climate change in the city of Atlanta with a diversity of tactics,” said City Council member Liliana Bakhtiari, who authored the bill, “because it’s far easier to change a local climate than it is a global one.”

Because cities set their own building codes, they can regulate roofs regardless of the whims of the Trump administration, which is aggressively rolling back climate policies. Experts say cool roofs are a simple, relatively cheap, and effective way to save people from extreme heat. “I like to say that reflective materials transform rooftops from problem to power,” said Daniel J. Metzger, a senior fellow at Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center for Climate Change Law. “Cool roofs give homeowners the power to improve health outcomes and air quality while saving money on their own energy bills.”

Other cities, including Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York, have also passed cool-roof ordinances, but they often only cover flat roofs, like you’d see on a commercial building. Atlanta’s ordinance covers all roofs, though it only mandates that new ones be made cool — it’s not forcing anyone to rip theirs off if it’s not time to replace. So it’ll take some time for every roof in the city to change, but Atlanta is also rapidly growing with new construction. “It’s going to be kind of a gradual, ongoing, but ideally a permanent response to rising temperatures,” said Brian Stone, director of the Urban Climate Lab at Georgia Tech. “This is pushing Atlanta into one of the more forward-looking cities.”

The Smart Surfaces Coalition — a nonprofit that works with cities to enact cool roof ordinances — estimates that Atlanta’s new building code will cool the city overall by 2.4 degrees Fahrenheit during peak summer temperatures, and by as much as 6.3 degrees in the city’s hottest neighborhoods. It further calculates that over a 35 year period, the ordinance will result in $310 million in energy savings, due to residents having to run their air conditioners less. “It’s a super cost-effective way to make the city healthier, more competitive, cut energy bills, and protect jobs,” said Greg Kats, founder and CEO of the Smart Surfaces Coalition.

A cool roof is a passive technology that keeps working on its own. For the flat roof of a commercial building, a simple coat of white paint will do. Manufacturers also make special cool roof shingles that reflect more sunlight. Whatever the strategy, cool roofs are no more expensive to install than traditional ones, and can even be cheaper. They also extend the life of a roof because there’s less wear and tear of the material expanding in the heat, then contracting when it cools down. 

Like any other city, Atlanta is struggling with the urban heat island effect: As a summer day wears on, the built environment of asphalt, brick, and concrete absorbs more of the sun’s warmth. This raises temperatures perhaps 20 degrees Fahrenheit above the surrounding countryside, where there’s more vegetation releasing water vapor to cool the air. At night, that stored heat slowly releases from a city, keeping temperatures abnormally high into the morning. 

The urban heat island effect gets especially bad in lower-income neighborhoods, where there’s typically less tree cover than in richer areas. “These folks are getting the triple whammy,” said Mark Conway, a councilmember who sponsored Baltimore’s cool roof ordinance. “Not only is it hotter in those areas of the city, but then also, they don’t have the trees and the shade to help them, nor can they pay for the AC.” 

The urban heat island effect gets extra dangerous during heat waves that stretch several days, because human bodies can’t get a break from relentlessly high temperatures. The stress builds and builds, in particular imperiling those with asthma and heart conditions, as the body tries to pump more blood to cool itself off. Infants and the elderly are also at higher risk because their bodies don’t cool as efficiently as other people. Accordingly, extreme heat kills twice as many people in the United States each year as hurricanes and tornadoes combined.

While getting more air conditioners into more homes will help save lives as cities get hotter, it’s not a cure-all. For one, the units use a lot of energy, and Atlanta’s residents already deal with some of the highest energy burdens in the country, meaning a significant proportion of their income goes to electric bills. Two, air conditioners actually make urban heat worse: They work by extracting heat from indoor air and pumping it outside — that’s why you feel a blast of hot air if you walk by one of them. And if the grid goes down because too many people are running their AC and other appliances at once, everyone’s now at much higher risk. “When a house loses power, if its only intervention to stay cool is air conditioning, it’s very likely that people inside of that home are going to quickly overheat,” said Grace Wickerson, senior manager of climate and health at the Federation of American Scientists, a nonprofit thinktank.

At the same time, American cities are complementing cool roofs with more trees — Cleveland, for example, has set a goal of getting all its residents within a 10-minute walk of a green space by 2045. Trees provide shade and also release cooling water vapor, like rural vegetation does. Parks and gardens also soak up rainwater, preventing flooding. “There’s just a long litany of good reasons to plant as many trees as possible, and cool roofs don’t take away from that,” Metzger said. “They work together to overall cool the city.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Atlanta is embracing a cheap, effective way to beat urban heat: ‘cool roofs’ on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Matt Simon.

Decades of scientific research has proven that human-caused climate change is making some disasters more dangerous and more frequent. The burning of fossil fuels like oil, gas, and coal releases carbon dioxide into the Earth’s atmosphere, where it traps heat, warms the planet, and alters the conditions in which extreme weather forms. These changes are happening more rapidly than at any time in the last 800,000 years, according to climate records. 

Below, we break down what experts know — and what they don’t — about the connections between climate change and extreme heat. 

The relationship between climate change and heat waves is perhaps the most straightforward of any disaster. “If we have an extreme heat wave, the null hypothesis is, ‘Climate change is making that worse,’” Andrew Dessler, a professor of atmospheric sciences at Texas A&M University, told Grist after a record-breaking heatwave hit the Pacific Northwest in 2021. The planet has already warmed 2 degrees Fahrenheit compared to pre-industrial times, and most heat waves we’ve experienced since have either been caused or strengthened by that. In 2020, scientists concluded that extreme heat in Siberia — with temperatures nearing 100 degrees in the Arctic Circle — was made 600 times more likely because of greenhouse gas emissions. 

Cities in the U.S. are seeing 100-degree days more often, and they’re not just reserved for the dead of summer. Some places, like Houston, have hit triple digits in February. Cities with mild climates might be ill-equipped to respond to the new normal, and will need to invest in interventions like better warning systems and outreach, subsidizing air conditioning installations in low-income housing, maintaining a network of public cooling centers and transportation services during heat waves, and strengthening the electrical grid to withstand the additional energy load. 

Policies barring utility companies from disconnecting electric services can also protect vulnerable residents, who may be afraid to run their AC all day due to the costs. Forty states have disconnection moratoriums during extreme cold — but only 21 have similar laws for extreme heat. 

Nighttime temperatures are rising as well, intensifying the risk of heat waves. This is especially troubling for people who don’t have access to air conditioning (over 35 million people in the U.S., for example), or those who live in urban heat islands, where the abundance of heat-trapping concrete combined with a lack of trees and shade in some neighborhoods can cause temperatures to rise 15 to 20 degrees higher than neighborhoods with parks and green spaces.  

Extreme heat can cause a myriad of health problems and even be deadly, particularly for the elderly, those who work outdoors, unhoused people, and people with pre-existing heart or lung conditions. Even for healthy adults, extreme heat can make it difficult for the body to cool itself off, which puts acute stress on the heart and kidneys. A recent study found that chronic heat exposure ages the body more than habitual smoking. Between 2004 and 2021, the number of Americans who officially died from heat exposure rose by 439 percent. On average over the last 30 years, heat waves have killed more people than hurricanes, floods, or tornadoes. 

Even though it’s becoming more common and more dangerous, FEMA still does not classify extreme heat as a natural disaster, so federal funding to support local relief efforts is not available. Labor unions, environmental groups, and health professionals are pushing the federal agency to change that. Some advocates even say that heat waves should be named and ranked on a simple scale, like hurricanes are, to increase public awareness about the risks of extreme heat. For example, a pilot program in Seville, Spain, named heat waves (similar to hurricanes), and ranked them in three classifications based on severity. Each category triggered specific alerts and public health interventions like cooling centers and wellness checks. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How climate change is worsening extreme heat on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Decades of scientific research has proven that human-caused climate change is making some disasters more dangerous and more frequent. The burning of fossil fuels like oil, gas, and coal releases carbon dioxide into the Earth’s atmosphere, where it traps heat, warms the planet, and alters the conditions in which extreme weather forms. These changes are happening more rapidly than at any time in the last 800,000 years, according to climate records. 

Below, we break down what experts know — and what they don’t — about the connections between climate change and extreme heat. 

The relationship between climate change and heat waves is perhaps the most straightforward of any disaster. “If we have an extreme heat wave, the null hypothesis is, ‘Climate change is making that worse,’” Andrew Dessler, a professor of atmospheric sciences at Texas A&M University, told Grist after a record-breaking heatwave hit the Pacific Northwest in 2021. The planet has already warmed 2 degrees Fahrenheit compared to pre-industrial times, and most heat waves we’ve experienced since have either been caused or strengthened by that. In 2020, scientists concluded that extreme heat in Siberia — with temperatures nearing 100 degrees in the Arctic Circle — was made 600 times more likely because of greenhouse gas emissions. 

Cities in the U.S. are seeing 100-degree days more often, and they’re not just reserved for the dead of summer. Some places, like Houston, have hit triple digits in February. Cities with mild climates might be ill-equipped to respond to the new normal, and will need to invest in interventions like better warning systems and outreach, subsidizing air conditioning installations in low-income housing, maintaining a network of public cooling centers and transportation services during heat waves, and strengthening the electrical grid to withstand the additional energy load. 

Policies barring utility companies from disconnecting electric services can also protect vulnerable residents, who may be afraid to run their AC all day due to the costs. Forty states have disconnection moratoriums during extreme cold — but only 21 have similar laws for extreme heat. 

Nighttime temperatures are rising as well, intensifying the risk of heat waves. This is especially troubling for people who don’t have access to air conditioning (over 35 million people in the U.S., for example), or those who live in urban heat islands, where the abundance of heat-trapping concrete combined with a lack of trees and shade in some neighborhoods can cause temperatures to rise 15 to 20 degrees higher than neighborhoods with parks and green spaces.  

Extreme heat can cause a myriad of health problems and even be deadly, particularly for the elderly, those who work outdoors, unhoused people, and people with pre-existing heart or lung conditions. Even for healthy adults, extreme heat can make it difficult for the body to cool itself off, which puts acute stress on the heart and kidneys. A recent study found that chronic heat exposure ages the body more than habitual smoking. Between 2004 and 2021, the number of Americans who officially died from heat exposure rose by 439 percent. On average over the last 30 years, heat waves have killed more people than hurricanes, floods, or tornadoes. 

Even though it’s becoming more common and more dangerous, FEMA still does not classify extreme heat as a natural disaster, so federal funding to support local relief efforts is not available. Labor unions, environmental groups, and health professionals are pushing the federal agency to change that. Some advocates even say that heat waves should be named and ranked on a simple scale, like hurricanes are, to increase public awareness about the risks of extreme heat. For example, a pilot program in Seville, Spain, named heat waves (similar to hurricanes), and ranked them in three classifications based on severity. Each category triggered specific alerts and public health interventions like cooling centers and wellness checks. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How climate change is worsening extreme heat on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Decades of scientific research has proven that human-caused climate change is making some disasters more dangerous and more frequent. The burning of fossil fuels like oil, gas, and coal releases carbon dioxide into the Earth’s atmosphere, where it traps heat, warms the planet, and alters the conditions in which extreme weather forms. These changes are happening more rapidly than at any time in the last 800,000 years, according to climate records. 

Below, we break down what experts know — and what they don’t — about the connections between climate change and flooding. 

Flooding is one of the most common natural disasters that can devastate a community. Between 2000 and 2019, nearly 1.6 billion people globally were impacted by floods, according to a study published in Nature. 

In the U.S., the Federal Emergency Management Agency has been criticized for outdated and incomplete maps that severely underestimate the number of people living in areas with a high risk of flooding. In 2018, a study estimated 41 million Americans live within a 100-year flood zone, or a region with a 1 percent chance of flooding in any given year — over three times FEMA’s estimate of 13 million. 

In 2023, for example, thousands of homes in Vermont flooded during a historic storm, and some that weren’t officially listed on any floodplain maps were inundated with 5 feet of water. Hurricane Harvey in 2017 flooded some 200,000 homes or businesses, including tens of thousands of structures not classified as being in the flood zone.  

This undercount results in fewer people holding flood insurance policies than are actually at risk, leaving homeowners without financial support when disaster hits (regular home insurance does not cover floodwater). And because there are no federal requirements for a seller to disclose previous floods, potential home buyers might not even know they should have a policy. 

Floods can happen almost anywhere — not just next to bodies of water. Heavy rain can cause rivers and even small creeks to overflow. Strong winds can create storm surges, causing ocean water to inundate coastal communities. In urban and suburban areas, flash flooding takes place when heavy rain can’t drain through paved, concrete surfaces; it pools in streets and overwhelms sewer systems. 

Climate change is creating more extreme rainstorms, as warmer air can hold more moisture that will eventually come down as rain. Put another way: Earth “sweats” more as warmer air causes more water to evaporate and then condense and fall as rain. Models suggest that these storms can also stall for an extended period of time, deluging an area with more water than it can handle. Making matters worse, these storms can hit after extreme droughts and heat waves, a climate trend known as “weather whiplash.” When soil becomes hard and dry, it acts more like concrete, unable to soak up the excess water as effectively as it would in normal conditions. 

The warming oceans are also affecting rainfall: The Gulf of Mexico’s waters supercharged Hurricane Helene, for example, which made landfall in Florida before quickly moving inland and dumping 40 trillion gallons of water across the Southeast and into Appalachia. 

As rainfall becomes more extreme, experts have warned that existing flood control infrastructure won’t be adequate to protect communities in the future and is struggling under current conditions. The American Society of Civil Engineers’ annual infrastructure report card rates the nation’s dams, levees, and stormwater systems. This year, none of these categories received a grade above a D. These systems are in need of billions of dollars of repair and upgrades already, on top of the added stresses of climate change. In 2025, the Trump administration pulled funding for these types of projects as it reversed course from the previous administration’s climate goals, so many planned improvements are tied up in legal battles. Meanwhile, other projects being studied and planned aren’t factoring in the risks posed by climate change. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How climate change is worsening flooding and heavy rainfall on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Decades of scientific research has proven that human-caused climate change is making some disasters more dangerous and more frequent. The burning of fossil fuels like oil, gas, and coal releases carbon dioxide into the Earth’s atmosphere, where it traps heat, warms the planet, and alters the conditions in which extreme weather forms. These changes are happening more rapidly than at any time in the last 800,000 years, according to climate records. 

Below, we break down what experts know — and what they don’t — about the connections between climate change and tornadoes. 

Readers from southern and central U.S. states are likely accustomed to the sound of tornado sirens during spring and summer. But tornadoes are not exclusive to that part of the world — they have been recorded everywhere except Antarctica. All it takes is a mass of cold, dry air colliding with a warmer, moist one, which usually happens during a thunderstorm. If these air masses begin to rotate, a funnel-shaped cloud forms, bringing dangerous high-speed winds that can rip homes from their foundations. 

In the U.S., these storms most frequently form in “tornado alley,” an area in the central U.S. that includes Texas, Oklahoma, Iowa, Kansas, and the Dakotas. But they’re also common in southern states, including Alabama, Tennessee, and Kentucky, and some parts of the Midwest. 

Predicting exactly when, why, and where a tornado may hit has long mystified meteorologists and forecasters. Tornadoes form fast and move unpredictably. The temperature, humidity, and wind speeds might be exactly right, but some thunderstorms produce dozens of tornadoes while other storm patterns don’t produce any. Forecasting and warning systems have gotten much better over the years, but the lead time for a tornado warning is still about 10 minutes, compared to days for a hurricane evacuation. 

Climate scientists haven’t yet established if global warming has impacted the frequency or strength of tornadoes. But there have been some unusual events in recent years, as more tornadoes have touched down in the eastern United States. In December 2021, an outbreak of thunderstorms and tornadoes made headlines after nearly 100 people were killed across several states in the Midwest, South, and Great Plains. Typically, tornadoes don’t occur late into winter months, so these communities were caught off guard, leaving many to scramble to seek shelter. Warmer winter temperatures may contribute to tornado conditions, but more research is needed to understand the link.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How climate change may be affecting tornadoes on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Decades of scientific research has proven that human-caused climate change is making some disasters more dangerous and more frequent. The burning of fossil fuels like oil, gas, and coal releases carbon dioxide into the Earth’s atmosphere, where it traps heat, warms the planet, and alters the conditions in which extreme weather forms. These changes are happening more rapidly than at any time in the last 800,000 years, according to climate records. 

Below, we break down what experts know — and what they don’t — about the connections between climate change and wildfires. 

In a hotter, drier world, wildfires have become more frequent and destructive. Scientists have definitively linked anthropogenic climate change to increased wildfire risks: A 2016 study found that, because of human-caused carbon emissions, the total number of large fires since 1984 had doubled. A 2021 study supported by NOAA similarly concluded that climate change is primarily responsible for wildfire conditions, like hotter and drier summers. Wildfires themselves also release carbon when trees and other vegetation go up in flames. Globally, in 2023, wildfires caused 8.6 billion metric tons of carbon dioxide emissions. 

The Western United States is the epicenter of the country’s growing wildfire crisis: Dry, hot conditions are getting more dangerous, snow is melting earlier in the spring, and summer droughts have become more severe. Warming temperatures also encourage outbreaks of pests like bark beetles, weakening or killing wide swaths of forests. This dead and dried out vegetation becomes kindling waiting for a spark — whether that’s trash or debris fires, lightning strikes, or ill-advised fireworks. 

But these risky conditions are now more common in other parts of the country as well. On the East Coast, states are experiencing more “fire weather” days per year than they were 50 years ago. In New Jersey’s Pine Barren forest, for example, dry fall and winter conditions mean that deciduous trees shed drier leaves onto the forest floor — essentially, kindling waiting for a spark. 

As the conditions that fuel wildfires have worsened, so too has the number of people living in wildfire-prone zones. Between 1990 and 2010, according to the Forest Service, housing developments in the “wildland-urban interface” — a vulnerable ecological area where housing abuts or intermingles with the edges of forest — increased by 41 percent. 

Like most climate events, wildfires are an inherent natural process, and plant species have adapted to live alongside lower-intensity, cyclical fires. For thousands of years, Indigenous tribes reduced fire risks by using controlled or cultural burns, strategically clearing areas of dried-up vegetation before nature takes its course. European settlers, and later the federal government, did not have the same relationship to fires and forests. The cultural and ecological practice was banned for centuries in some states, including California. The U.S. Forest Service also had a “10 a.m. policy” for decades that instructed fire agencies to extinguish every blaze the same day it started — even those burning low and slow. Abandoning controlled burns and focusing on fire suppression caused a buildup of dead vegetation that helped fuel larger fires. Only recently have some ecologists and lawmakers reversed course, collaborating with tribes to reintroduce controlled burns to improve forest management. 

“There are solutions we have in our knowledge and in our management approaches that can help restore these ecosystems and can also benefit the public,” U.S. Forest Service research ecologist Frank K. Lake, a descendant of the Karuk tribe, told Grist in 2020. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How climate change is supercharging wildfires on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Decades of scientific research has proven that human-caused climate change is making some disasters more dangerous and more frequent. The burning of fossil fuels like oil, gas, and coal releases carbon dioxide into the Earth’s atmosphere, where it traps heat, warms the planet, and alters the conditions in which extreme weather forms. These changes are happening more rapidly than at any time in the last 800,000 years, according to climate records. 

Below, we break down what experts know — and what they don’t — about the connections between climate change and hurricanes. 

Every spring, the Climate Prediction Center at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, or NOAA, releases its forecast for the upcoming hurricane season, which lasts from June 1 through November 30. The agency’s projections for the Atlantic Ocean — and the communities living along the United States’ Eastern and Gulf coasts — paints an increasingly grim picture: Most seasonal predictions are now what NOAA considers “above normal,” with more hurricanes forming and warmer ocean waters fueling these storms to rapidly intensify into larger, more dangerous ones. Smaller-scale climate trends, like the El Niño and La Niña climate patterns in the Pacific Ocean, can also influence hurricane season. 

Hurricanes are intensifying at the same time that sea levels are rising, worsening the risks of flooding from dangerous storm surges. An unusual Pacific Ocean hurricane that hit Alaska in 2022, for example, caused a storm surge so powerful that a town 18 miles inland experienced major, unexpected flooding. 

Hurricanes are also developing stronger wind speeds, going through rapid intensification, and growing wetter — dropping more rain when they make landfall — as ocean waters heat up and air becomes warmer, thereby holding more moisture. In 2024, 11 hurricanes formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Five strengthened to major storms, Category 3 or higher on the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Wind Scale. Two of them — Beryl, which hit Houston in July, and Milton, which landed in Florida in October — peaked as Category 5 storms, the highest rating on the scale. 

“We would have had zero Category 5 storms without human-caused climate change,” Daniel Gilford, a climate scientist, told Grist in 2024. 

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Hurricanes or tropical storms are also increasingly moving slowly or stalling over land, unleashing devastating wind and rain on communities for days at a time, rather than the typical hours. Hurricane Harvey in 2017, for example, hit Texas as a Category 4 storm and sat over the southeastern part of the state for nearly four days, dumping upwards of 50 inches of rain and causing widespread flooding.

As storms become more intense, some scientists have cautioned that the current hurricane rating system might need an upgrade. The Saffir-Simpson scale’s categories — which only measure wind speed — are no longer a good proxy for potential danger or damage. Several recent storms have either exceeded Category 5 wind speeds or packed a wallop in other ways, from devastating rain or storm surge, not measured by the system. Meanwhile, researchers at Louisiana State University have also found that the official length of hurricane season, starting in June and ending in November, may also need to be extended. In 2023, a storm was observed forming over warm ocean waters as early as January. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How climate change is intensifying hurricanes on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Disasters can feel overwhelming if you’re an immigrant, whether it’s because of your citizenship status, language barriers, or confusion around your rights. It’s important to remember that trusted community networks exist, along with other helpful resources. This guide offers up-to-date information on some of those resources, as well as examples of community organizing and policy work that have made it easier for immigrants to find help. It also includes best practices for navigating disaster relief and recovery at a time when there is a heightened risk of deportation for certain immigrants. This information is fact-checked and will be updated periodically as laws, practices, and resources change.

Jump to:

↓ Finding reliable information
↓ Government services in your language
↓ How federal disaster aid works
↓ What to do if you encounter ICE
↓ Best practices for staying safe
↓ How to advocate for better resources

Finding reliable information

Vetted federal, state, and community resources can help you find accurate, trustworthy information in the event of a disaster.

Dial 211

When you dial 211, you will be referred to the Federal Communications Commission’s free community services directory. This can be a key step in accessing public services. It works similar to 911, where an operator will answer the call and assist you in finding what you need, including services for non-English speakers.

Independent news outlets

News publications that serve non-English speaking individuals often provide emergency resource guides that don’t exist in traditional media. Look for an outlet published in your language in your area. Here are some examples:

• El Tímpano in California offers an emergency resource guide in Spanish.
• To prepare for this year’s hurricane season, Enlace Latino NC published an article in Spanish on how to obtain free National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, or NOAA, radios through the city of Raleigh, North Carolina. Radio is a primary means of communicating emergency alerts and weather information in the U.S. and can be especially useful during power outages.
• Grist published a guide in Spanish and Haitian Creole for Florida farmworkers during the 2024 hurricane season.

Immigrant rights organizations

Across the country, immigrant rights organizations offer an array of services and tips that can be helpful in disaster situations. These are trusted groups who offer support and advocate for change year-round, not just during disasters. Searching online for local organizations that focus specifically on immigrant and labor issues — by typing in the name of your state and the phrases “immigrant rights” or “worker rights” — is a great way to begin looking for support. The tools highlighted below can also inspire other search terms for your own state, like “disaster preparedness toolkit in Spanish,” for example.

• In North Carolina, the Episcopal Farmworker Ministry released a video series in Spanish to help immigrant communities and their families prepare for disasters and recuperate in the aftermath. This video explaining how emergency alerts work is applicable to any U.S. state.
• In Oregon, the farmworker union Pineros y Campesinos Unidos del Noroeste, or PCUN, made a disaster preparedness toolkit in Spanish available for free on Google Drive.
• You can get involved in spreading the word throughout your own community with the help of available, trusted resources. PCUN also offers free social media graphics about the dangers of heat stress and what to do to stay safe at home and on the job.

Many of these organizations also offer legal refreshers for immigrants to understand their rights, which can be impacted by the presence of federal agents at disaster sites. You can read more about that below, under “What to do if you encounter Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE” and “Best practices for staying safe.”

Government services in your language

Federal civil rights law requires any entity receiving federal funding — including virtually all state and local agencies — to provide language access to individuals with limited proficiency in English. And in recent years, an increasing number of local and state government agencies have amped up their language access policies as a result of organizing among community members and immigrant organizations.

In 2023, wildfires spread through the town of Lahaina on the island of Maui, Hawai‘i. In the immediate aftermath, the 30 percent of Lahaina residents with limited proficiency in English had trouble accessing emergency information. Liza Ryan-Gill, the executive director of the Hawai‘i Coalition for Immigrant Rights, spent two days organizing calls with at least 80 community advocates to figure out how to get information to immigrant communities who needed it — in languages they could understand. In 2024, after advocates organized for federal funds to be allocated to local emergency management for language access, Hawai‘i passed HB 2107 and hired a limited English proficiency access coordinator for the state’s emergency management department. Now all emergency resources in the state are translated into at least seven languages.

Other states have taken similar steps: In Michigan, a 2023 law requires translation and interpretation services for languages spoken by individuals with limited English proficiency who comprise at least 3 percent of the population, or 500 individuals, in the region served by a given state agency. New York updated its language access policy in 2022 to cover the 12 most common non-English languages spoken by state residents with limited English proficiency.

While most cities and states do not require agencies to proactively translate documents and resources into specific languages, it is worth checking with your local government and emergency management agencies. If they don’t already provide information in the language you speak, you can request it.

Emergency management agencies: Your city or county has an emergency management department, which is part of the local government. Emergency managers are responsible for communicating with the public about disasters, managing rescue and response efforts, and coordinating with other agencies. They usually have an SMS-based emergency alert system, so sign up for those texts now. Some cities have multiple languages available, but most emergency alerts are only in English. Many emergency management agencies are active on Facebook, so check there for updates as well.

If you’re having trouble finding your local department, Grist suggests typing your city or county name followed by “emergency management” into Google. You can also search for your state or territory’s emergency management department, which serves a similar function for a larger jurisdiction. Every website looks different, but many of them include translation options at the top or bottom of every page. You can also use Google Translate, or another browser-based automatic language detection program, to automatically translate any webpage.

National Weather Service: This agency, often called NWS, offers information and updates on everything from wildfires to hurricanes to air quality. You can enter your zip code on weather.gov and customize your homepage to get the most updated weather information and receive alerts for a variety of weather conditions. The NWS also sends out localized emergency weather alerts to people’s cell phones via wireless networks, to television and radio stations, and to NOAA Weather Radio, which can receive NWS broadcasts. (Make sure you’ve opted into receiving emergency alerts in your phone settings.) Some local NWS offices automatically translate local alerts into multiple languages — including Chinese, Vietnamese, French, Samoan, and Spanish — in real time.

Read more: How to prepare for a disaster

How federal disaster aid works

The Federal Emergency Management Agency, or FEMA, is the federal government’s main disaster response agency. It is housed under the Department of Homeland Security, or DHS. Often, U.S. Customs and Border Patrol, which is also under DHS, is enlisted to help after a disaster. In 2021, the Biden administration issued guidance designating places where disaster or emergency response and relief are provided as “protected areas” where immigration agents should not engage in enforcement actions. However, in January, the Trump administration rescinded that policy.

Still, experts and immigrant advocates on a national level emphasize that FEMA offers non-financial aid to anyone regardless of immigration status. This includes shelter, emergency supplies, counseling, and other resources. In order to apply for financial aid, someone in your family must be a U.S. citizen; this could be a child. A household should only apply for financial aid once per disaster, according to FEMA guidance. If more than one family member submits an application, it will cause delays in the process.

“The reassurance right now is that nothing has changed in the field,” said Ahmed Gaya, director of the Climate Justice Collaborative at the National Partnership for New Americans, a coalition of 82 state and local immigrant and refugee organizations.

He added that “our communities’ trust in the federal government and trust in FEMA and DHS is at a historic low,” but that the law has not changed and that undocumented folks are still eligible for immediate emergency relief. “There’s a real, credible fear that there is a shift in leadership at DHS, in administration and in the rhetoric. But legal rights remain the same currently.”

As of June 2025, Gaya said, “We have not had reports from the field of FEMA’s practices and policies deviating dramatically from how they have typically gone in regards to dealing with mixed status and undocumented communities.”

Read more: How the agencies and officials involved in emergency response work

What to do if you encounter Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE

“You probably wouldn’t see ICE officers at disaster shelters requesting documents, but we can’t predict how ICE will behave,” says Rich Stolz, a colleague of Gaya who is also a Senior Fellow with Just Solutions, focusing on the intersection of climate justice and immigrant rights strategy and organizing. “The challenge for advocates and emergency groups is making sure that people can make informed decisions. The concern is that people will be under even more stress in a disaster context, and they may forget their rights.”

It can be helpful to have a red card, or tarjeta roja, with you to show to ICE agents in the event of questioning. These cards outline your rights — like the right to remain silent and to talk to a lawyer — and anyone can order them online. They are available through the National Immigration Law Center in Spanish, Arabic, Chinese, Haitian Creole, Korean, Tagalog, and Vietnamese.

There are several “know your rights” guides for immigrants that apply in all situations, not just disasters:

• The National Immigration Law Center provides a Know Your Rights guide recommended by legal experts. It is available in Arabic, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish.
• The National Immigrant Justice Center offers a guide available in Spanish, Haitian Creole, French, and English that includes laws to know, sample warrants, and helplines. 
• The National Day Laborer Organizing Network and the National TPS Alliance (an organization for people with temporary protected status) put together an illustrated guide to your rights in English and Spanish. On page 2, you can find step-by-step instructions on what to do if ICE stops you on the street or in a public space. 

Best practices for staying safe

Accessing emergency shelter and supplies

You shouldn’t need identification to receive emergency supplies or stay at most emergency shelters, but you may be asked to provide some. Identification may include a photo or non-photo ID; it does not necessarily mean you need to supply a driver’s license, passport, or social security number. Some organizations offer community IDs for those who do not qualify for a state-issued ID. These may not be accepted depending on the county or location.

The Red Cross, which operates shelters after major disasters, says it does not ask for any documentation of legal status when providing aid.

Read more: How to access food before, during, and after a disaster

Going to a shelter or government-run site can be intimidating. Here are some other tips gathered from immigrant rights organizations:

• Use the buddy system: There is safety in numbers. Go with multiple people to feel more confident in getting the help you need. 
• Find an English speaker: Someone who speaks English may be able to help you get services if you are worried about language barriers.
• Request language interpretation: When talking to police, firefighters, or hospital workers, you have a legal right to an interpreter. Other agencies and institutions may have access to interpreters and translators as well.
• Contact an advocacy organization: Farmworker and immigrant advocacy organizations may be able to help you get the supplies and food you need at a safe space.
• Talk to your faith community: Speak with your local pastor, members of your place of worship, or someone else you trust about your options.

Support for disaster workers

If you are an immigrant disaster worker, day laborer, or second responder, you have rights and are legally protected by the federal Occupational Safety and Health Administration, or OSHA. Day labor worker centers and labor unions are excellent resources if you have any questions regarding safety on the job. The Resilience Force put together easy-to-read illustrated guides in Spanish and English for workers specifically working in disaster recovery.

How to advocate for better resources

Each disaster has ripple effects. That’s why organizations that were not built to deal with disaster relief or response are often taking on that responsibility. “All of us need to figure that out,” said Marisol Jimenez, founder of Tepeyac Consulting, a business based in Asheville, North Carolina, for community organizers around the country. “We’re not disaster organizations, but how do we integrate this into all of our work?”

Here are some of the resources being created to help communities organize for change:

• Stolz, Gaya, and their Just Solutions colleagues representing Organizing Resilience, National Partnership for New Americans, National Immigration Law Center, and other groups plan to release a resource guide on disaster response as it relates to the Trump administration’s policies for ICE. A similar rapid response kit was published in 2022.
• Researcher Melissa Villarreal at the Natural Hazards Center in Colorado put together an annotated bibliography of academic articles, government reports, and news reports related to emergencies and language access. You can use these examples when advocating for policy change where you live.

Disasters cause communities to spring into action out of necessity, which can result in positive pressure on local governments. The more you can stay connected to your community and trusted local organizations, the more you can create change and better policies that keep immigrants safe and supported.

“So much depends on grassroots organizations actually having a presence and a plan and a strategy,” said Stolz. “A community’s ability to survive and thrive and recover is largely dependent on the existing community cohesion and relationships that exist.”

Download a PDF of this article | Return to Disaster 101

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Know your rights as an immigrant before, during, and after disasters on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Victoria Bouloubasis.

That’s no easy task. Grist has a toolkit below for long-term recovery, including how to take care of your mental health and well-being, how to find unemployment and assistance programs, and how to keep tabs on disaster aid in your area so you know the right questions to ask. Most importantly, we want to offer you resources — locally, regionally, and nationally — that can help you navigate the road ahead.

Jump to:

↓ Managing long-term recovery
↓ Mental health resources
↓ Substance abuse resources
↓ Fraud and scams
↓ Preparing for the next disaster
↓ Federal assistance programs
↓ How to track disaster spending in your community
↓ Questions to ask about long-term recovery
↓ Recovery resources

Managing long-term recovery

For any community, it’s important to have coordination and communication among public, private, and nonprofit organizations throughout the recovery process. According to this graphic from the city of Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi, long-term recovery can include everything that public and private sectors work together on, such as rebuilding infrastructure, financial assistance, economic and workforce development programs, redesigning codes and plans to protect people from future disasters, and more.

The National Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster, or VOAD, has some helpful things to consider when working on long-term community and individual recovery:

• Consider creating a long-term recovery group with other stakeholders in your community if one does not already exist. This can be informal or turned into a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. This ensures that the local community is leading the way, but there should be clear guidelines and a diverse and inclusive group of stakeholders involved. VOAD has considerations for creating these groups and managing their budgets here.
• Consider hosting public gatherings and memorials in the months and years after disasters to mark the event and support community members during difficult times. These should involve survivors, local faith leaders, and other trusted leaders.
• Keep track of unmet needs — anything from private roads that need repair to waterways that need cleaning up to random issues that arise months later — and develop a way to prioritize them. This can help you figure out where to access funding and who is being left out of the recovery process. Here’s an example of what that looked like a year after Hurricane Laura. 

Read more: How disaster response impacts long-term recovery

Mental health resources

Disasters affect people in many different ways, and it’s normal to grieve your losses — personal, professional, community — in your own time. You may feel sad, angry, or fearful. In 2021, Southerly interviewed Kevin Yaudes, who runs the Kay Doré Counseling Clinic at McNeese State University, in Lake Charles, Louisiana, after Hurricanes Laura and Delta hit the southwest part of the state. “The effort to be positive and move forward was so strong that it was clouding the fact that the storms had taken their toll,” Yaudes said. “Two things can be true at the same time. It is OK to feel both sorrow for loss and gratitude that the situation was manageable.” For many residents, knowing there were affordable options for counseling, and that others were experiencing similar feelings, was important.

Disaster relief organizations, churches, mutual aid groups that offer direct financial support (you can find many mutual aid groups here), and other institutions will likely offer free or affordable counseling, or can direct you to the right place. Check your local government website, local news TV stations, newspapers, and local radio stations for options.

General mental health helplines:

• The National Center for PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder, on what to expect after experiencing a disaster (en Español).
• If you are feeling suicidal, call 988 or start an online chat with someone through the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifelife (en Español). 
• Veterans going through a crisis can also dial 988 for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, and press 1, or chat online here.
• The National Alliance on Mental Health, or NAMI, has a network of organizations and affiliates across the U.S. Find the closest one to you here. You can also text “helpline” to 62640 or call 1-800-950-6264 (en Español). 

Disaster helplines and resources:

• The American Red Cross has mental health volunteers they often dispatch to areas hit by a disaster. They have guides in multiple languages about mental and emotional health. 
• The Crisis Counseling Assistance and Training Program is a short-term disaster relief grant program, funded by FEMA and managed by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, or SAMHSA. It is available to states, U.S. territories, and federally recognized tribes in a federal disaster declaration area. Email dtac@samhsa.hhs.gov to learn if there’s a program in your area.
• SAMHSA also has many fact sheets for coping with disasters and trauma here. 

All of these agencies and organizations will point you to the Disaster Distress Helpline that provides 24/7 crisis counseling and support. Call or text 1-800-985-5990 for English and Spanish.

However, there are limitations with the helpline: In 2020, the Center for Public Integrity and Columbia Journalism Investigations teamed up with local news outlets across the country to examine the toll disasters take on mental health. They found that federal programs reach just a fraction of survivors, and that communities were creating their own counseling programs to fill in the gaps. Here are some of the tips they gathered from people who have lived through disasters.

Substance abuse resources

Research shows that disasters can result in increased alcohol and drug use among people who previously did not use them, and relapses for those who have struggled with alcohol and drug abuse disorders. Not only is it an exceptionally stressful and triggering time, but services can be disrupted if buildings are destroyed or people are displaced.

Gathered from a variety of clinics as well as federal and state resources, here are some ways to cope after a disaster if you struggle with drugs or alcohol:

• Check your local Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, health care provider, or SMART Recovery for meeting updates and location changes. 
• Reach out to your sponsors, old friends who have helped you in the past, or family you trust. If you suspect someone you know is struggling, here are some ways to help them, from the Minnesota Department of Health. 
• There are many ways you can try to keep to a routine. An Illinois-based clinic called Rosecrance has some helpful tips here.
• SAMHSA’s National Helpline is confidential, free, and available anytime in English and Spanish. Call 1-800-662-4357, visit SAMHSA’s online treatment locator, or text your ZIP code to 435748 to find help near you.

Fraud and scams

There’s always the risk of fraud as con artists posting as government officials or unscrupulous contractors try to bilk people out of their money or rip them off with shoddy work. Here’s a timeline of how disaster fraud often plays out. A few tips can minimize the risk. 

• Verify the identity of anyone who approaches you unsolicited with offers of help. Ask for identification. FEMA employees, housing inspectors, and other government officials carry official IDs. A government uniform is not proof of identification.
• Government officials will not ask you for money or for financial information. Do not trust anyone who seeks payment up front or promises a loan or grant.
• Work with reputable contractors and check their credentials and licenses before hiring them (more on this below). Here are some tips from the National Insurance Crime Bureau to avoid getting taken.
• Ask for written quotes and contracts throughout the process.

If you have knowledge of fraud, waste, or abuse, you can report it to the FEMA Disaster Fraud Hotline at 866-720-5721 or email StopFEMAFraud@fema.dhs.gov. You also can contact the National Center for Disaster Fraud. Before calling, gather as many details as possible, including how and where it occurred. You can also report it to your state’s attorney general or local law enforcement. 

Emergency Legal Responders, which provides free, accessible, and easily understandable information and services, has a form to report disaster scams you encounter so they can find patterns and update resources for the public. 

Read more: How to spot fake contractors and questions to ask anyone who knocks on your door looking to offer services

Preparing for the next disaster

Repeated exposure to major disasters can take a heavy toll on your mental health, according to a 2022 study from Texas A&M University School of Public Health. People who experienced two or more events over the past five years had mental health scores below national levels. These mental health challenges can manifest in a variety of ways. For some people, reactions to stress can feel just as intense as the first time. For example, you may get extremely anxious when you hear heavy rainfall after you’ve survived a flood. NAMI has tips on identifying signs and dealing with triggering events here.

Read more: How to protect your health if a disaster strikes your community

As extreme weather becomes more frequent and intense, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you’ll experience multiple disasters in a short time span. It’s important to stay prepared — especially if you were caught off guard the first time.

Read more: How to prepare for a disaster

Federal assistance programs you may be eligible for

Disaster-related unemployment

The Disaster Unemployment Assistance program provides temporary benefits to people who, as a result of a major disaster, lost their jobs or had their self-employment interrupted. You are eligible for this assistance if you live in a city, county, or state where a federal disaster declaration has been made and you aren’t eligible for regular unemployment insurance benefits. You must file a claim with your state insurance agency. If you have evacuated to another state, you can still apply.

To learn more, contact your state’s unemployment office. Search for yours here. If you’ve moved or have been evacuated to another state, contact your home state. The Department of Labor also has other tips if you need to find a job, relocate, or replace your driver’s license, birth certificate, or other documents.

H-2A worker assistance

If you are an agricultural worker on a temporary visa and you lose a job when a flood or storm hits, your employer must give you up to 75 percent of your lost wages. This is a federal law. If you are an H-2A worker and your employer does not provide these lost wages, you can file a complaint with the Department of Labor. (Here are instructions in English and Español on how to do that.) Some people have reported retaliation for making a complaint about working conditions. You can tell the Department of Labor if you think this has happened to you.

Read more: Know your rights as an immigrant before, during, and after disasters

How to track disaster spending in your community

After a disaster, huge sums of money trickle down and change hands to fund debris cleanup, repairs, reconstruction, and more. We hope these tips will be helpful for local journalists looking for stories after a disaster, as well as community members who are interested in better understanding how projects are prioritized and funding is distributed.

• Attend your local city council, county commission, and school board meetings. If structures like schools and city buildings are destroyed, your county or city will be designating funding for repairs and rebuilds. By attending meetings and asking questions, you can stay updated and make sure local officials are spending money on the things that should be prioritized first. Here’s an example from Southerly, which hired residents of Lake Charles, Louisiana, to take notes at meetings and write about the patterns they saw after Hurricane Laura. 
• You can also use these meetings, plus news stories or press releases from the offices of your governor or mayor, to track what companies governments are contracting with to clean up debris, repair roads and buildings, and more. For example, the Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting reported on complaints and lawsuits against a debris cleanup company accused of taking property without consent and leaving flood debris behind that clogged waterways in 2022. The city of Louisville hired the same company to clean up after floods in 2025. 
• Pay attention to how your neighbors and family members are doing as they wait for federal or state funding for repairs for their homes or businesses, or other housing assistance. If you’re going through the process yourself, take notes about everything and keep track of your documents. Here’s another example from Hurricane Laura.
• Know what data to look at. FEMA is required by law to provide a report by the fifth day of each month on the Disaster Relief Fund, “which includes a funding summary, a table delineating the DRF funding activities each month by state and event, a summary of the funding for the catastrophic events, and an estimate of the date on which the funds will be exhausted.” You can search for these reports here. In addition, the agency must update the OpenFEMA dataset frequently after disasters; it provides detailed applicant-level data on the agency’s individual and households program. After the 2022 Kentucky floods, an Appalachian think tank tracked funding for housing rebuilds using this data. Here’s a link to more datasets from OpenFEMA. 

Read more: How FEMA aid works

Questions to ask about long-term recovery

There are other aspects of the recovery process in the months and years after a disaster that it’s important to be aware of. Here are some questions to ask your local officials and community leaders:

• How is the rebuilding effort making homes and businesses safer for future disasters? Are developers and the local government putting homes on higher ground in case of more flooding, or investing in materials that can guard against fire or wind? 
• How are your officials mitigating future disasters when it comes to infrastructure improvements?
• What are the economic development initiatives that the community is focusing on in order to strengthen the local and regional economy?
• How is your community keeping price gouging and fraud down, whether that’s in the housing market, at the grocery store, or for building supplies?

Recovery resources

Recovery is not a prescriptive process, and some of the best advice you’ll find is from other people who have survived disasters. Grist wants to continue adding to this recovery resource, and we encourage you to send workshops, toolkits, links, and stories that have helped you to community@grist.org.

• After the Flood documentary, about how communities have rebuilt since the 2022 Eastern Kentucky floods, from Kentuckians for the Commonwealth
• Disaster Resiliency and Recovery: A Guide for Rural Communities (USDA, 2021)
• Community Recovery Management Toolkit (from FEMA)
• Extreme Weather Survivors is a network of people who have experienced disasters. They offer resources, storytelling, and workshops, and more.

Download a PDF of this article | Return to Disaster 101

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline What you should know about disaster recovery  on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Lyndsey Gilpin.

Losing your home and everything in it, then having to invest time and money to repair and replace everything, is extremely difficult; navigating insurance companies, government agencies, and legal issues is exhausting and nerve-racking. To help you through it, Grist put together a guide to the process for renters and homeowners.

Jump to:

↓ Protecting your belongings and documents
↓ Are you a renter? Know your rights
↓ How to navigate government aid, donations, and insurance
↓ How to avoid fraud and scams
↓ Building a new home or repairing your home

Protecting your belongings and documents

If you live in a region that’s particularly prone to disasters — hurricanes along the Gulf Coast, for example, or fires in the West — you should prepare well in advance. One of the most important things to do is create digital copies of essential documents, and keep physical copies in a weatherproof bag or container.

For homeowners, that means your homeowners insurance policy, the deed to your house, and loan paperwork. Renters, keep copies of your lease agreement and renters insurance policy if you have one. These documents will help establish your ownership or residency at the time of a disaster. (If you don’t have a written lease, a verbal contract may hold up, but try to find documentation supporting the agreement — a text, email, etc.)

Keeping copies of other helpful files, such as a recent tax return and bank statements, as well as government-issued IDs, Social Security cards, immigration records, and anything else that provides your address is a good idea. Pay stubs can help prove your income if you apply for FEMA aid.

Read more: How to pack an emergency kit and plan your evacuation route

Lastly, consider keeping photos of your home and big ticket items, such as appliances, TVs, stereos, or laptops — and write down serial numbers — so that you can prove what they looked like before the disaster. Government agencies or insurance companies will likely ask for proof that specific damage, like a collapsed roof, isn’t the result of deferred maintenance or a previous disaster.

All of this administrative setup can save a lot of hassle in a crisis. When Hurricane Harvey caused $125 billion in damages in Southeast Texas in 2017, more than a quarter of all FEMA applicants were denied aid; common reasons included that people couldn’t prove homeownership or failed to provide valid identification. In 2020, survivors of the Almeda wildfires in Oregon faced similar hurdles: FEMA denied 57 percent of all applications. Mobile or manufactured homeowners in particular had a hard time proving ownership and residency.

If you live in a mobile or manufactured home, be sure that you have a safe place to go in case of severe weather — especially tornadoes. Here are some helpful tips from the National Weather Service to stay safe. To prepare for hurricanes or other high-wind storms, consider reinforcing your roof, anchoring your foundation, and reinforcing doors.

Are you a renter? Know your rights

Nearly 35 percent of households in the U.S. rent their home, and they are especially vulnerable to the impacts of disasters. They have more limited access to recovery funding from federal aid or insurance, and almost no control over the process of rebuilding their damaged home, since they don’t own the property. Renters insurance primarily covers the cost of personal belongings that are damaged during a disaster; some policies may include reimbursements for hotels or temporary living situations.

Finding new housing after a disaster can be difficult because rents often skyrocket after a disaster, and there are fewer undamaged properties available on the market. While homeowners can request a mortgage payment deferral, landlords often won’t make the same concession. The National Low Income Housing Coalition reports that rents typically rise between 4 to 6 percent annually for about three years after a major disaster.

In Los Angeles, some units that escaped the Palisades Fire were relisted for three times as much despite a California law capping such increases to 10 percent after a disaster declaration. The organization also found that renters were more likely to be displaced than homeowners, and for longer stretches of time. Evictions also rise in the two years following a disaster.

Renters’ rights and protections vary by state. Some allow tenants to withhold payment until repairs are made; others say nonpayment for that reason could be grounds for eviction. Either way, you may be entitled to certain protections, such as reimbursement for simple repairs you make yourself, through your lease. 

Here are some tips:

• Get it all down in writing. The Legal Aid Disaster Resource Center recommends documenting any conversations you have with your landlord about damages and repairs. This will provide proof of any agreements regarding specific damages, costs, and other details. This can help if you must go to court to break a lease due to unsafe conditions.
• Understand the legal process. Your landlord cannot evict you without filing a legal complaint, and in some states they must provide written warning before taking that step. If you have not terminated or violated your lease, your landlord cannot legally change the locks, shut off the utilities, or remove your property without going through the legal process of eviction — even if you were evacuated or forced from your home. This is important to know because landlords sometimes evict tenants after a disaster to renovate buildings and increase rents. If your landlord attempts to wrongfully evict you, consult a lawyer or a pro bono legal aid organization. 
• Disaster Legal Services, funded by FEMA, works with state bar associations and pro bono lawyers to set up hotlines for legal services following a federally declared disaster. (Call 1-800-621-3362.) However, as of March 2025, parts of that program are suspended after the Trump administration froze some FEMA funding. You can also find free or affordable legal services through other avenues, like typing “legal aid society” and your location into a search engine, or checking with trusted people and organizations in your community. 
• Know how federal aid works. Tenants who are displaced or evicted after a disaster are eligible for help from FEMA. You might receive direct assistance to pay rent, or reimbursement for staying at a hotel. The agency may also provide temporary housing until your home is habitable again. After a series of disasters hit Lake Charles, Louisiana, between 2020 and 2021, some residents lived in FEMA trailers for over a year as they searched for an affordable place to live. 

Read more: How FEMA aid works

Some other resources for renters’ rights:

• The National Low Income Housing Coalition has a host of resources, including how disasters impact federally assisted housing, specific housing needs by state, and a guide on eviction processes.
• Your local health department, city or county government, or legal aid organization will likely have a webpage dedicated to renters’ rights. For example, the Tennessee health department describes renters’ rights, and this outlines landlord and tenant protections for rural east Tennessee specifically.
• The Stanford Legal Design Lab and Charitable Trusts has a database where you can find local legal rules about housing, eviction, rent, and landlord-tenant issues, and groups and guides that can help you with housing assistance. 

Read more: This long-term recovery guide outlines resources you can use in the weeks and months after a disaster

How to navigate government aid, donations, and insurance

Homeowners facing costly repairs after a natural disaster have options for aid. Insurance policies may cover some or all of the damages. Federal agencies like HUD, FEMA, and the Small Business Administration will provide funding as well. Some people turn to their own savings, mutual aid groups that raise money and distribute it directly, or crowdfunding platforms to help cover costs.

Insurance: Homeowners should first file a claim with their insurance company. Based on what your policy covers and your insurer pays, you can then apply for other types of federal aid. It’s important to keep good records and itemize your costs and reimbursements. You can receive payouts from a combination of private and public aid, but be careful of double-dipping: If you will receive funds from one source for specific damage, government aid can’t be used to cover the same costs.

The legal term for this is “duplication of benefits.” Let’s say your insurance paid to replace your roof, but not the cost of removing mold in your walls. You cannot legally receive additional money for the damage to your roof, but you can apply for help covering the cost of mold removal or other damage not covered by your insurance policy.

Federal/state aid: To receive assistance from federal or state agencies, you must submit an application to the agency. This can usually be done online, and you may be able to apply in person or over the phone. There is a specific process cities, states, and tribal governments must navigate in order for residents to receive FEMA aid. If you are a U.S. citizen, or meet certain qualifications as a non-citizen, and live in a disaster declaration area that was approved by FEMA and the president, you are eligible to apply for aid immediately after they announce it. You can apply on disasterassistance.gov, through the FEMA app, or at a FEMA recovery center. FEMA offers survivors eligible for individual assistance:

• A one-time grant of $750 for emergency needs and essential items like food, baby items, and medication 
• Temporary housing assistance equivalent to 14 nights in a hotel in your area 
• Up to 18 months of rental assistance
• Payments for lost property that isn’t covered by your homeowners or renters insurance
• Other forms of assistance, depending on your needs and losses

You can track the status of your aid application via the app or disasterassistance.gov and receive notifications if FEMA needs more information from you. 

You will need to provide proof of your identity and residency and document the damages that your home sustained. A FEMA inspector will meet you at your home to determine the damages. If your application is approved, you will receive funds or a loan approval with details on which repairs are covered. 

You may also qualify for rental assistance from FEMA. You must apply for individual disaster assistance to be considered for rental assistance. These funds can be used for rent, including a security deposit, and utilities such as electricity and water, at a house, apartment, hotel, or recreational vehicle that is not your damaged home. Residents in counties with a federal disaster declaration are eligible to apply under FEMA’s Individuals and Households Program. The rate is set by an area’s Fair Market Rent; find yours here. 

Read more: Everything you need to know when applying for individual and rental assistance from FEMA

If your application is denied, you have the right to appeal the decision within 60 days. You should include any information that was missing from your initial application, as well as supporting documents showing costs, damages, and proof of residence and ownership of your home. Lawyers and community advocates can help you write the appeal. You will need to sign the letter, along with a statement verifying that you authorized someone else to write the appeal. FEMA has 90 days to review your appeal, but delays are possible given the volume of paperwork the agency may be reviewing. 

Some homeowners may also apply for help through the Small Business Administration’s program, which provides low-interest loans for repairs. You don’t have to own a business to apply, and FEMA may refer you to SBA’s application to check if you qualify for additional aid for funds to make your home more resilient to future disasters.

Mortgage, rent, and utility relief: Homeowners may qualify for mortgage relief. Providers aren’t legally required to offer assistance, but they can waive late fees, delay foreclosures, and provide forbearance. It is usually up to the homeowner to initiate a conversation about these options.

If you have a loan backed by the Federal Housing Administration, you have more legal protections. If you’re unable to make payments, your mortgage servicer cannot initiate a foreclosure for 90 days after a presidentially declared disaster in your area, and you can negotiate a repayment plan or modify some terms of your loan. You may also be able to meet with HUD-approved counselors trained in foreclosure prevention, who can help you evaluate your options and finances.

Both renters and homeowners may qualify for rental and utility assistance from government agencies and nonprofit organizations. If your home or rental unit is uninhabitable or you cannot stay there for another reason, there are likely organizations providing assistance with finding a place to live. Be on the lookout for applications for these in the days and weeks after a disaster. (If you’re not sure where to start looking, here are some examples of types of organizations that provided these services after Helene in 2024; they included local nonprofits, churches, housing organizations, county governments, and more.)

Crowdfunding/GoFundMe: Some disaster survivors turn to crowdfunding platforms to cover costs for evacuations, funerals, or repairs. According to data from GoFundMe, one of the largest platforms, disaster recovery campaigns in the U.S. raised over $100 million in 2023. This avenue is often faster than waiting on insurance claims and FEMA applications. Donations you receive are considered gifts, and you will not be required to pay taxes on them, as long as you don’t promise donors goods or services in exchange. However, you can’t apply for other sources of aid to cover the same expenses you list in the campaign you create.

Read more: The agencies, organizations, and officials that respond to disasters

How to avoid fraud and scams

There’s always the risk of fraud as con artists posting as government officials or unscrupulous contractors try to bilk people out of their money or rip them off with shoddy work. A few tips can minimize the risk.

• Verify the identity of anyone who approaches you unsolicited with offers of help. Ask for identification. FEMA employees, housing inspectors, and other government officials carry official IDs. A government uniform is not proof of identification.
• Government officials will not ask you for money or for financial information. Do not trust anyone who seeks payment up front or promises a loan or grant.
• Work with reputable contractors and check their credentials and licenses before hiring them (more on this below). Here are some tips from the National Insurance Crime Bureau to avoid getting taken.
• Ask for written quotes and contracts throughout the process.

If you have knowledge of fraud, waste, or abuse, you can report it to the FEMA Disaster Fraud Hotline at 866-720-5721 or email StopFEMAFraud@fema.dhs.gov. You also can contact the National Center for Disaster Fraud. Before calling, gather as many details as possible, including how and where it occurred. You can also report it to your state’s attorney general or local law enforcement. 

Be wary of disaster investors: You may receive calls, texts, or other communications pressuring you to sell your home as-is, for cash. These “disaster investors” take advantage of the stress and uncertainty that people feel as they return to damaged homes. Their offers often target individuals who will have a difficult path to recovery, including low-income homeowners and the elderly.

In Hawaii, following the devastating 2023 wildfires, the governor issued an order banning such unsolicited offers in Maui, and the state eventually opened investigations into some companies.

Investors trying to scoop up properties to flip after a disaster will often make offers that are lower than market value, even with the damage your home might have sustained. If you are interested in selling, work with a trusted real estate agent of your choosing, and check what comparable homes should sell for in your area. Never sign any agreements or contracts about a potential sale without carefully reviewing them — no matter how much you’re pressured to sign on the spot.

Choose a contractor carefully: You’ll likely need to hire a contractor to do major repairs, and it’s important to vet any offers to fix up your home. Here are some tips for avoiding scams from the NC State Board of Examiners of Electrical Contractors and Legal Aid of East Tennessee:

• Be wary of door-to-door repair solicitations or people who demand deposits or payments in cash. Contact your insurance company for guidance before beginning any work.
• Require a written contract that outlines the work to be done, materials to be used, a payment schedule based on completion of work, and a timeline for completion. A licensed general contractor is generally required to be insured and list their license number on all contracts.
• Do not make payments before the work specified on the payment schedule is completed.
• Check with the Better Business Bureau for any history of complaints: 1-800-544-7693 or online. You can also look at reviews on sites such as Yelp, Google, or Angie’s List.
• Verify the company’s permanent business address.
• Check with your local home builders association to verify credentials and membership.
• Some contractors require you to obtain permits, and others take care of it. Ask your contractor, and then contact your local building inspections and permitting office to determine if permits are required. If so, confirm that the contractor has acquired them before construction begins.
• Before making final payment, evaluate the completed work and require the contractor to confirm that all subcontractors and suppliers have been paid to eliminate potential liens on your property.
• You can always verify whether the contractor is licensed to perform the specific work by visiting licensing board websites or calling the board offices. 

Building a new home or repairing your home

As you make repairs or reconstruct your home, you may be able to use insurance payouts and other assistance to make the place more resilient.

Consider installing more energy-efficient features, including new insulation, double-paned windows, and hurricane shutters. If you’re in a flood zone, you may want to elevate outdoor components of your HVAC system so that they don’t flood in the future. If you live in a tornado-prone area, you could add or retrofit a room to serve as a storm shelter. Materials like stucco can help fire-proof your home more than wood or vinyl siding. Some communities can qualify for the Hazard Mitigation Grant Program, a federally funded program managed by local government agencies, that aims to help homeowners with structural elevation, reinforcing buildings to withstand natural disasters, and buyouts by FEMA. The land is deeded to the local county for parks, greenways, and other municipal projects.

In some flood cases, you may be required to elevate your home to avoid future damages. This is typically the case if you participate in the National Flood Insurance Program or if your community has or adopts stricter floodplain management. After receiving FEMA aid, you could be required to purchase a flood insurance policy.

After clearing out debris, consider planting native grasses, shrubs, and trees that suit your local ecology. This can help prevent soil erosion and improve drainage, which might help reduce water in your home during major rainstorms, particularly in basements. Some native species may be drought-tolerant and somewhat fire-resistant, as well. Opting for pea gravel or stones to fill out your landscaping instead of Bermuda grass can help reduce the risks of fire spreading over your lawn. Make sure that you create a buffer zone between your house and landscaping; additionally, pruning and clearing fallen branches and leaves can help reduce future risks.

Read more: How to make sure your home is better protected from disasters

Download a PDF of this article | Return to Disaster 101

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline How to find housing and rebuild your home after a disaster on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Amal Ahmed.

Jump to:

↓ What are the major types of natural disasters?
↓ How is a disaster officially ‘declared’?

What are the major types of natural disasters?

Natural disasters include all types of severe weather, including winter storms, floods, tornadoes, hurricanes, and wildfires. Extreme heat, though not considered an official disaster by FEMA, can be just as dangerous.

These events pose a significant threat to human health and safety, as well as infrastructure. Below are more details on different types of natural disasters. (For simplicity, they will be referred to as “disasters” throughout this toolkit.)

Hurricanes

A hurricane is a tropical storm with sustained winds that top 74 miles per hour. The National Weather Service rates hurricanes on a scale of Category 1 through 5 based on their wind speeds. Category 5 storms are considered the strongest, with wind speeds over 157 miles per hour.

Rising global temperatures are changing the dynamics of hurricanes, and wind speed does not always equate to severity: Lower category storms may produce more rainfall and more damage from flooding. Some researchers have advocated for adjusting how storms are categorized to better reflect their hazards. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association, or NOAA, designates June 1 to November 30 as hurricane season in the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico, as well as the Pacific Ocean. But most hurricanes that make landfall occur between August and October, when the conditions for a hurricane — warm waters and high winds — are most likely.

The National Hurricane Center, run by NOAA, tracks hurricanes. NOAA also has a website with much more information about hurricanes.

Read more: How hurricanes are affected by climate change

Wildfires

Wildfires are unplanned fires that often start in forests, rangelands, and grasslands and quickly spread. In 2024, for instance, they burned over 8 million acres. The Western U.S. is often considered the epicenter for wildfires, but these blazes also happen — and are becoming more severe — in the South, Midwest, and Northeast. The seasons for wildfires are typically summer and fall, but that is changing as well as the warming climate alters precipitation patterns. The Los Angeles area wildfires in 2025, for instance, happened in January. Wildfires can start from natural causes such as lightning, but they are also often caused by humans forgetting to extinguish campfires, or by faulty electrical lines. The National Interagency Fire Center has more information about wildfire conditions.

Read more: How wildfires are worsened by climate change

Tornadoes

Tornadoes form when warm and cool air masses collide, resulting in strong winds that begin to rotate in a column reaching the ground at speeds anywhere between 100 and 500 miles per hour. Heavy rain or hail may accompany them. These conditions typically happen during thunderstorms, but that’s not always the case. Read more from NOAA about tornadoes.

A tornado itself may be relatively small in size, but it can travel across dozens of miles before wind speeds drop, carving a path of destruction. In North America, tornadoes tend to occur in the southern plains from May to June, early spring along the Gulf Coast, and June and July in the Midwest. But they can pop up any time of year, almost anywhere, and that’s happening more frequently: Some evidence suggests that “tornado alley,” the area of the U.S. where tornadoes are most likely, is moving eastward. Tornadoes are not as easy to predict as hurricanes or wildfires and can change direction quickly, so you may not have much time to prepare once you hear a tornado siren or get an alert about a warning. There are many myths about tornadoes, including that they do not hit large cities or cross bodies of water. The Missouri state government has a list of other misconceptions here.

Read more: How tornadoes may be affected by climate change

Floods

Flooding is an overflowing of water onto land. This can happen during heavy rainfall or when dams or levees break. Flash floods can happen within minutes of intense rain, which makes them especially dangerous. They can happen anywhere, at any time — not just on the coast or near a river. Floodwaters can fill small creeks and streams that normally run dry; in cities, water can overwhelm storm systems and submerge streets; storm surge from hurricanes can inundate cities. Inland flooding is common and growing in some parts of the country, particularly in the Appalachian Mountains.

You can read more details about types of floods on NOAA’s website, and Grist has more information on how climate change exacerbates storms and flooding. Even if your home isn’t in a flood zone, you might still be at risk. More than a quarter of claims filed through FEMA’s National Flood Insurance Program include homes that are not in official flood zones. Though there’s a common misconception that flooding rarely occurs in winter, flooding, especially inland flooding, can happen at any time of year.

Read more: How climate change is worsening flooding

Winter storm

Winter storms can bring extreme heavy snow or ice, freezing rain, sleet, and high winds that can block roads, damage homes, cause power outages, and put lives in danger — especially if temperatures drop well below freezing and stay there. Winter storms can happen all over the U.S., even in places that don’t typically see snow. In 2021, Texas and the Deep South experienced a historic winter storm that left people without power and water for days. Read more about winter weather here from FEMA.

How is a disaster officially ‘declared’?

There is a specific process cities, states, and tribal governments must go through to receive federal disaster aid that allows them to access federal funding and resources for both public infrastructure and individual household repairs and rebuilds. Here’s how it works:

Step 1: Local emergency managers and public officials work with FEMA on a preliminary damage assessment.

This assessment, done by local officials and a regional FEMA office, examines the damage caused by the natural disaster, the cost estimates for the work ahead, and types of federal assistance needed. The assessment, according to FEMA, must “show that the disaster is of such severity and magnitude that effective response is beyond the capabilities of the state and the affected local governments or Indian tribal government.” 

Read more: How FEMA works

Step 2: State governor or tribal government requests presidential disaster declaration within 30 days of the disaster.

They must show they’re using all their available resources and describe what type of federal assistance is needed to the president through their FEMA regional office (there are 10 total). Tribal governments go through a different process, which is outlined here. States or tribal governments may decide that the extent of a disaster isn’t large enough to warrant a damage assessment, or they might apply and get rejected by the president for additional aid.

Step 3: Federal aid is allocated after approval by the FEMA regional office and president.

There are two types of declarations, which both allow for federal spending on aid: Emergency declarations supplement local government efforts in providing emergency services; major disaster declarations provide a wide range of federal assistance programs for individuals and public infrastructure.

The federal government can disagree with the damage assessment that a state submits or deny requests for aid. In extreme cases, the president can also expedite a disaster declaration without having to catalog the full cost because damages are so widespread and severe. Remember, many disasters are not federally declared, or even declared by the state, but still cause damage and disruption.

Sophie Hurwitz and Katie Myers contributed to this story.

Download a PDF of this article | Return to Disaster 101

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline What exactly is a natural disaster? on Jul 7, 2025.

This content originally appeared on Grist and was authored by Lyndsey Gilpin.

This tool kit is meant to help you understand how federal, state, and local disaster response works during and after a disaster — and what your rights and responsibilities are at a stressful and confusing time.

Jump to:

↓ Finding accurate information
↓ Emergency response agencies and officials
↓ How FEMA works
↓ Staying safe and finding shelter
↓ Applying for FEMA assistance
↓ Documenting damage
↓ Cleaning your home

Finding accurate information

During and after a disaster, you may lose internet and cell service for an extended period of time. Here are a few tips to staying connected and informed:

• Check your local library. Libraries often have power when other city buildings do not, and they offer free Wi-Fi and computers.
• Listen to the radio. Your local NPR station or your talk radio station will provide updated information. You can tune in from your car or use a hand crank radio. NOAA weather stations broadcast 24 hours a day, seven days a week, though accessing it requires a NOAA weather radio or a radio with NOAA weather station features.
• Sign up for local emergency alerts. Local officials are the best source of information. Your city or county has an emergency management department. In larger cities, it’s often a separate agency; in smaller communities, the fire department or county sheriff’s office may manage emergency response and alerts. If you’re having trouble finding your local department, search for your state or territory here; we also suggest typing your city or county name and “emergency management” or “emergency alerts” into Google for a quick find.

When you do find cell service or internet access:

• Read your local news sources. Check the library or other community hubs if you don’t have a subscription and hit a paywall.
• Check the American Red Cross for shelters and services.
• Check your county or city website for updates.
• Download the FEMA app on Google Play or the Apple App Store to get alerts, find emergency shelters, and more. You can also download the app by texting ANDROID or APPLE (per the type of device that you have) to 43362 (4FEMA).

Legal resources:

Disclaimer: We are not offering legal advice; this is only to offer contact information for organizations that can offer legal resources and services.

We encourage you to find legal aid societies and lawyers in your state, city, or region. You can often access free or pro-bono legal services through disaster relief organizations, houses of worship, local nonprofits, or by asking leaders at supply distribution sites after a disaster. Your local news will likely be sharing this information, as well.

Emergency Legal Responders provides free, accessible, and easily understandable information and services. They have a website with a host of resources on everything from bankruptcy to fraud to how legal needs often play out after a disaster. Find them on Instagram.

Mutual aid:

Mutual aid is a voluntary, collaborative exchange of resources, money, and services among community members. These groups are often local or regional, and they are more nimble and quick to respond in emergency situations because of their decentralized nature. Depending on how much funding comes in after a disaster, mutual aid groups can directly send money to those in need, purchase supplies, set up distribution sites, and more. Mutual Aid Disaster Relief, a grassroots disaster relief network, has a list of mutual aid groups it works with, and there are many more popping up all the time. Mutual aid groups often offer resources and updates as well and share via social media; make sure you fact check any information you see to confirm it’s correct.

Emergency response agencies and officials

It can be hard to know who to trust when it comes to natural disasters. Where do official evacuation orders come from? Who do you call if you need to be rescued? Where can you get money to help pay for emergency housing or to rebuild your home or community?

Here’s a breakdown of the officials and agencies in charge of delivering aid before, during, and after a disaster:

Emergency management agencies: Almost all cities and counties have local emergency management departments. Sometimes it’s a standalone agency, but in smaller communities, the fire department or sheriff’s office may manage emergency response and alerts. These departments are responsible for communicating with the public, managing rescue and response efforts, and coordinating between other agencies. Many emergency management agencies, however, have small staffs and are under-resourced.

Much of the work that emergency managers do happens before a disaster: They develop response plans that lay out evacuation routes and communication procedures and they delegate responsibility to different agencies like the police, fire, and public health departments. Most counties and cities publish these plans online.

In most cases, they are the most trustworthy resource before and after a hurricane or other catastrophe. They’ll issue alerts and warnings, coordinate evacuations, and direct people to resources and shelter. You can find your state emergency management agency here. There isn’t a comprehensive list by county or city, but if you search your location online you’ll likely find a website, a page on the county or city website, or a Facebook page that posts updates. Some emergency management agencies automatically translate into Spanish or other languages — New York and Hawaiʻi mandate their own statewide emergency translation services — but not all.

Law enforcement: County sheriffs and city police departments play a key role during disasters. They often enforce evacuation orders, going door-to-door to ensure that people leave. They manage traffic during evacuations and help conduct search-and-rescue operations.

Law enforcement agencies may restrict access to affected areas after a flood or other disaster. In most states, city and county governments also have the power to set a curfew, and officers can enforce them with fines or even arrests.

Read more: Know your rights as an immigrant before, during, and after disasters.

Governor: Governors control several key aspects of disaster response in their states. They have the power to declare a state of emergency, which allows them to deploy rescue and repair workers, distribute financial assistance to local governments, and activate the National Guard. The governor plays a lead role in the immediate aftermath of a crisis, but a smaller one in distributing aid and assistance to individuals.

In almost every state, including all of the hurricane-prone states along the Gulf coast, the governor also has the power to announce evacuation orders. The penalty for ignoring them differs, but is usually a fine. (States seldom enforce these penalties.) The state government also decides whether to implement transportation procedures like contraflow, where all lanes of a highway flow in the same direction to facilitate evacuations.

FEMA: The Federal Emergency Management Agency is the federal government’s main disaster response organization, offering resources and funding for individuals, states, and local governments. It is part of the Department of Homeland Security.

HUD: The Department of Housing and Urban Development, or HUD, spends billions of dollars to help communities recover after disasters, building new housing and other buildings such as schools — but this money takes much longer to arrive. Unlike FEMA, HUD must wait for Congress to approve its post-disaster work, and then it must dole out grants for specific projects. In some cases, such as the aftermath of Hurricane Laura in Louisiana or Hurricane Florence in North Carolina, it has taken years for projects to get off the ground.

States and local governments, not individual people, apply for money from HUD, but the agency can direct you to FEMA or housing counselors.

How FEMA works

FEMA is rarely the first resource on the ground after a disaster strikes. In order for the agency to send resources to a disaster area, the state’s governor must first request a disaster declaration from the president, and the president must approve it.

Read more: How a major disaster is declared

For large disasters such as Category 4 or 5 hurricanes, this typically happens quickly. For a smaller crisis, like severe rain or flooding, it can take weeks or even months for the president to grant a declaration and activate the agency. FEMA has historically not responded to heat waves because it does not consider them a type of disaster.

FEMA is divided into regional offices and offers specific contacts and information for each of them, and for tribal nations, which follow a different process. You can find your FEMA region here.

The agency has two primary roles after a federally declared disaster:

• Contributing to community rebuilding costs: The agency helps states and local governments pay for the cost of removing debris and rebuilding public infrastructure. (Read more about FEMA’s responsibilities and programs here.)
• Individual financial assistance: FEMA awards financial assistance to individual people who have lost their homes and belongings. It can take several forms: FEMA gives out pre-loaded debit cards to help people buy food and fuel in the first days after a disaster, and may also provide cash payments for home repairs. The agency also provides up to 18 months of housing assistance for people who lose their homes, and sometimes houses disaster survivors in trailers. FEMA sometimes covers funeral costs as well as medical and dental treatment.

FEMA also runs other programs, including the National Flood Insurance Program, which provides insurance via dozens of companies it works with, and enforces floodplain management regulations. The agency recommends that everyone who lives in a flood zone purchase this coverage — and most mortgage lenders require it if you live in a flood zone — though many homes beyond these areas are also vulnerable. You must begin paying for flood insurance at least 30 days before a disaster to be eligible for a payout. You can check if your home is in a flood zone by using this FEMA website.

Visiting a FEMA recovery center

FEMA disaster recovery centers provide information about the agency’s programs as well as other state and local resources. It will open these centers in impacted areas in the days and weeks following a federally declared disaster. FEMA representatives can help navigate the aid application process or direct you to nonprofits, shelters, or state and local resources. Go to this website to locate one in your area, or text DRC and a ZIP Code to 43362.

Finding shelter and staying safe

If an emergency forces you from your home, there are several ways to find a shelter.

• The American Red Cross operates overnight shelters and disaster relief centers where you can get health services, do laundry, get toiletries and other necessary supplies, and rest. Pets are usually welcome, and entry is free. Locate them here.
• Text SHELTER and your ZIP code to 43362 to find a FEMA shelter.
• Call 211 to find more information about emergency housing, shelters, or assistance paying for housing.
• Most cities and counties will have a list of shelters available. Check your local .gov website, or your local news site, for options. You can also check with local community organizations you know and trust.

For people with disabilities:

• You have a right to meals and snacks that meet your dietary and medical needs, your service animal, a physically accessible shelter, and sign language interpreters, Braille, large print, or other formats you may need to access information. The Massachusetts Department of Public Health created a tool called Show Me that can be downloaded as an app or printed out. It’s a visual guide to emergency shelters that cana be used by residents who have cognitive disabilities, are deaf or hard of hearing, have limited English proficiency, or may struggle to communicate during an emergency.
• Call 211 to get your questions answered (you can remain anonymous) or find your local 211 through the United Way.
• The National Disability Rights Network has Protection and Advocacy (P&A) Systems and Client Assistance Programs (CAP) in every state U.S. territory as well as one serving the Native American population in the four corners region. They can help you advocate for yourself. You can find the closest one to you here.

The most important thing to consider during a disaster is safety — for you, your family, and your community. You may experience a power outage before or during a disaster. Here are some ways to prepare and stay safe:

• Your utility company may alert you of changes, so sign up for texts or calls from them.
• If your power does go out, keep your refrigerator closed as much as possible and eat perishable food first. Get some coolers with ice if possible, and if you’re in doubt about any food, throw it out.
• Unplug appliances and electronics, and use flashlights instead of candles to reduce the risk of fire.
• Carbon monoxide poisoning is one of the leading causes of death after a storm that knocks out power. Do not use a gas stove to heat your home and do not use barbecues, grills, or other outdoor cooking equipment inside, because they can generate carbon monoxide. If you have a generator, keep it outside in a well ventilated area away from windows. The Red Cross has more generator safety tips.

Read more: How to access food before, during, and after a disaster

Signs and symptoms of illnesses

Heat stroke and exhaustion: Symptoms include muscle cramping, unusually heavy sweating, shortness of breath, headaches, dizziness, and fatigue or weakness. Learn more here from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention about how to spot these signs and protect yourself.

Carbon monoxide poisoning: It can take just minutes to get carbon monoxide poisoning. Be on the lookout for nausea, a mild headache, and shortness of breath. More severe cases can cause confusion, chest pain, dizziness, severe headaches, and loss of coordination. The Mayo Clinic has more information on what to look out for, and FEMA has information on how to prevent carbon monoxide leaks.

Tetanus: This is an infection caused by bacteria. It’s rare, but can be more common after disasters because it’s more likely people come into contact with rusty nails, needles, or contaminated dirt. The most common symptom, which can occur anywhere from three to 21 days after exposure, is lockjaw. Tetanus is easily prevented with a vaccine. Read more here from the CDC.

Respiratory issues from poor air quality: If you can see haze and smell smoke, the air quality is poor and you should limit your outdoor activities. Soot and smoke from fires contain particulate matter, or PM. Signs of irritation include persistent coughing, phlegm, wheezing, and difficulty breathing, as well as asthma attacks or elevated heart rates. Children, the elderly, and people with heart or lung disease are most at risk.

Read more: How to protect your health if a disaster strikes your community

Applying for FEMA assistance

There is a specific process cities, states, and tribal governments must navigate in order for residents to receive FEMA aid. If you are a U.S. citizen, or meet certain qualifications as a non-citizen, and live in a disaster declaration area that was approved by FEMA and the president, you are eligible to apply for aid immediately after they announce it. You can apply on disasterassistance.gov, through the FEMA app, or at a FEMA recovery center. FEMA offers survivors eligible for individual assistance:

• A one-time grant of $750 for emergency needs and essential items like food, baby items, and medication 
• Temporary housing assistance equivalent to 14 nights in a hotel in your area 
• Up to 18 months of rental assistance
• Payments for lost property that isn’t covered by your homeowners or renters insurance
• Other forms of assistance, depending on your needs and losses

First, you’ll need to gather your paperwork. You will need documents to verify everything from your identity to proof of residency and living expenses. FEMA has a list of documents you can submit to prove home ownership (like mortgage statements, property tax bills, a deed or title) or proof of residency if you don’t own your home (lease or housing agreement, bank or credit card statement, motor vehicle registration form, pay stub, credit card statements, utility bills). These documents should be dated within the past year. Your driver’s license, state-issued identification card, or voter registration card is valid only if it is current and was issued before the disaster happened.

• Hotel receipts, if you were forced to evacuate
• Receipts, serial numbers, and appraisals for valuable items, if you lose things like appliances, furnishing, and accessibility equipment. This may help you with both insurance claims and FEMA aid 
• If you are on a visa, green card, or other form of legal residency, make sure to have copies of all your immigration paperwork 
• Photos of your home before it was damaged or destroyed

The agency has some advice on how to replace lost documents here; you should apply for aid even if you don’t have all the necessary paperwork.

Second, prepare for an inspection. After you apply, FEMA must verify the damage through an onsite or remote inspection. FEMA employees and inspectors may call from an unknown or restricted phone number and make several attempts to discuss your disaster-caused damage — so be on the lookout for that. You’ll have to be present for the inspection, though you may be able to meet elsewhere if your home is inaccessible. You don’t have to wait for this inspection to begin cleaning up, but make sure you take photos before you do.

After disasters, inaccurate or misleading information can spread quickly. FEMA debunks some common myths here.

Some facts about FEMA’s aid process that are often misconstrued:

• Payments provided by FEMA are grants, not loans. You do not have to pay them back. 
• Keep all receipts for your expenses while displaced from your home, or repairs made to your home, as well as notes of calls with FEMA or other disaster aid officials or insurance companies.
• FEMA will require you to create an account on the secure website Login.gov. Use this account to submit your aid application. You can track the status of your aid application via the app or this website and receive notifications if FEMA needs more information from you.
• If FEMA denies your application for aid, you can appeal, but the process is lengthy.
• You can apply for individual assistance for multiple storms, but you can apply only once for each disaster.
• You can use GoFundMe or other crowdfunding platforms to get money faster. Donations are considered gifts, and will not be counted in your gross income, as long as you don’t promise donors anything in exchange. However, you can’t seek other sources of financial aid to cover any expenses included in your online campaign.

Applying for FEMA rental assistance

You must apply for individual disaster assistance to be considered for rental assistance. FEMA funds can be used for rent, including a security deposit, and utilities such as electricity and water, at a house, apartment, hotel, or recreational vehicle that is not your damaged home. Residents in counties with a federal disaster declaration are eligible to apply under FEMA’s Individuals and Households Program. The rate is set by an area’s Fair Market Rent; find yours here.

Here are some key things to know about FEMA rental assistance:

• If you were already approved for rental assistance, an application for continued rental assistance is normally mailed to you 15 days after the grant is approved. If you do not receive one, call FEMA at 800-621-3362 or visit a disaster recovery center.
• To receive continuing assistance, you must be able to demonstrate ongoing need and prove you are working toward securing permanent housing or making progress on repairs. A contractor’s estimate meets that requirement.
• Extensions on rental assistance may be granted for three-month periods up to a maximum of 18 months after the disaster.
• You may receive an automated phone call with a notification about ongoing assistance, so answer unknown numbers.
• If FEMA denies your application or you need more than the amount awarded, you can appeal. It must be submitted within 60 days of the date on the FEMA decision letter. The appeal process is often lengthy. Here’s more information.
• You’ll have to meet specific requirements for any FEMA aid you receive or reimbursements you plan to ask for. 

Finding help with applications

The FEMA application process can be confusing and lengthy. Important tips when applying for disaster assistance with FEMA can be found here (please note this was last updated after Hurricane Helene in 2024). There are almost always lawyers and legal organizations offering free help with applications in any disaster area.

Documenting damage

If and when it’s safe to return home, it’s critical that you photograph everything that was damaged and gather any documents you can salvage for insurance claims and government aid applications.

Before you begin:

• Turn off your electricity and gas (here’s how).
• Have a first aid kit handy.
• Make sure your tetanus shot is up to date (your state or county health department may offer free tetanus vaccines if you need one; it’s best to call them to find out).
• Look at the structural integrity of the building before entering, and do not go inside if it looks like there is any potential for something to collapse. Do not touch anything electrical if in doubt about the state it’s in. 
• Wear protective clothing: long sleeves and pants, goggles, leather, rubber or plastic gloves, closed-toed and/or sturdy boots or shoes, a respirator or N95 mask, and a Tyvek suit if you can find one. Check with your aid distribution sites for tools, personal protective equipment, and cleaning materials. 
• Do not attempt to drive or wade through floodwaters, which can sweep you away even if it doesn’t seem deep, and can be contaminated or contain dangerous debris. Do not touch any debris or materials that may be contaminated by toxic chemicals (you may need special equipment or PPE to handle burned or flooded debris).