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Carbon Tax Center

Pricing carbon efficiently and equitably

What the Green Transition’s “Missing Profits” Really Mean

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For a moment last week it looked like the New York Times was heeding CTC’s summons to tax carbon emissions as a way to make faltering clean-energy projects profitable.

NY Times op-ed by David Wallace-Wells, Jan. 10, 2024. His “missing profits” aren’t the same as ours.

The come-on appeared in the headline for an opinion piece, Missing Profits May Be a Problem for the Green Transition, by the Times’ climate columnist David Wallace-Wells. MISSING PROFITS! Was Wallace-Wells pursuing the idea I floated two months ago in a CTC blog, that a U.S. carbon tax could lift the prevailing price of grid power by enough to offset the cost creep that is killing off off East Coast wind and solar projects along with an innovative nuclear power venture in Idaho?

Not quite. The “missing profits” in the Times column did not refer to the revenue boost that carbon-free power projects should but don’t get for the climate benefit they create by keeping fossil fuels in the ground. Rather, it referred to collapsing returns inflicted on renewable energy projects by higher interest rates, stretched-out schedules and cost escalation endemic to first-of-a-kind projects like enormous offshore wind turbines (East Coast) and small modular reactors (Idaho).

Nevertheless, “missing profits” is a keeper phrase. Though it’s less poetic than “gainsharing,” the neologism we deployed in that Nov. 10 post (Gainsharing: Carbon Taxes Can Put Clean Energy Back in the Black), the phrase is more to the point: The lack of robust carbon pricing manifests as missing profits that beset every project, policy and gesture that promises to reduce use of fossil fuels and, thus, to avert and reduce carbon emissions.

Leave the idea, take the expression, “Godfather” movie character Pete Clemenza might have said.

What was the idea, then, in Wallace-Wells’ Times column? Mostly that the prospective profits from wind and solar projects are downright meager compared to returns on oil and gas supply investments.

True enough, and unsettling. But the antidote advanced in the column is almost diametrically opposite ours. We want a robust U.S. carbon price “to put clean energy projects back in the black.” In contrast, Uppsala University (Sweden) geographer Brett Christophers, the avatar of Wallace-Wells’ column, wants “public ownership of the power sector.”

Yes, but which price is wrong? Christophers writes in his forthcoming book that renewables cost too much and need public investment. We say *fossil fuels* are priced *too low* and require carbon pricing.

I haven’t read Christophers’ new book, The Price Is Wrong — its publication is set for March. But its contours seem clear from Wallace-Wells’ column and from Christophers’ own NYT guest essay last May, Why Are We Allowing the Private Sector to Take Over Our Public Works?

In that essay, Christophers took dead aim at the Biden administration’s signature climate achievement, the Inflation Reducation Act. “The I.R.A. will help accelerate the growing private ownership of U.S. infrastructure and, in particular, its concentration among a handful of global asset managers,” he warned.

“It is wrong,” Christophers continued, to cast the I.R.A. and other Biden legislation as “a renewal of President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal infrastructure programs of the 1930s.”

The signature feature of the New Deal was public ownership: Even as private firms carried out many of the tens of thousands of construction projects, almost all of the new infrastructure was funded and owned publicly. These were public works. Public ownership of major infrastructure has been an American mainstay ever since. [I]n political-economic terms, Mr. Biden, far from assuming Roosevelt’s mantle, has actually been dismantling the Rooseveltian legacy. (emphasis added)

That may be, though claiming Biden is dismantling FDR’s legacy is quite a stretch. For his part, Wallace-Wells summarized the conundrum of green power’s newly spiking capital and interest costs as follows:

For Christophers, this is a challenge that implies its own solution: public ownership of the power sector. If all that stands between our bumpy “mid-transition” status quo and an abundant clean-energy future for all is an initial hurdle of investment, why strain to extract that investment from private investors who’d prefer to invest elsewhere?

Again, perhaps. But treating renewables’ upfront-cost hurdle as a minor matter to be tweaked, as Wallace-Wells suggests, has an air of whistling past the graveyard. What if the findings from the International Energy Agency and Bloomberg New Energy Finance, touted by Wallace-Wells and countless others, that new wind and solar arrays pencil out cheaper than equivalent electricity generated with coal or methane, are simplistic or plain wrong?

To his credit, Wallace-Wells allowed in his column that U.S. public power agencies traditionally have been “obstacles to a rapid transition [from fossil fuels]” rather than “models of hyperdecarbonization.” But it’s also true that some entities of government, including New York State, have strong public works traditions. Indeed, some historians view Franklin D. Roosevelt’s tenure as governor as a testing ground for ideas such as unemployment insurance and old-age pensions that his presidency made foundational to the New Deal.

Chart, reprinted from our Nov. 2023 “Gainsharing” post (link in text), has back-of-the-envelope estimates of the “missing profits” clean-energy projects could capture under carbon pricing.

In this light, CTC sees potential in New York’s new (2023) Build Public Renewables Act, which authorizes the NY Power Authority to build and own renewable power projects. At the same time, we’re mindful that public financing of clean power constitutes a subsidy, albeit an indirect one, and that the U.S. tax code already provides considerable subsidies to wind and solar power — subsidies that the I.R.A. extended to the entire electrification effort (EV’s, batteries, transmission, manufacture) of which wind and solar are key components.

Still, the virtues and pitfalls of public investment in clean power are worthy of public conversation, not just in the U.S. but “in the poorer parts of the world,” as Wallace-Wells notes, where hundreds of millions lack access to electricity of any stripe, in part because “capital costs of new infrastructure can be prohibitively high even in the absence of supply shocks and global inflation conditions.”

Our focus at CTC, however, is the United States, home of the world’s most inventive entrepreneurs and its most efficient capital markets. Without shutting the door against public investment, we are tantalized by the possibility that clean power’s cost hiccups could be overcome through robust carbon pricing. Unlike subsidies, carbon pricing won’t “accelerate the growing private ownership of U.S. infrastructure and, in particular, its concentration among a handful of global asset managers” — the specter raised against the I.R.A. by Brett Christophers in his May 2023 Times guest essay.

Carbon pricing doesn’t play favorites and is resistant to gaming. It’s ecumenical, technology-neutral and pervasive. It raises all low-carbon boats — energy efficiency and conservation as well as renewables. Whether it can actually make clean-power projects profitable on a vast scale is a question we at CTC intend to explore.

What’s Really Driving U.S. CO2 Reductions

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The talented data analysts at Rhodium Corp. reported this week that U.S. emissions of greenhouse gases fell nearly two percent last year, even as national economic output rose by 2.4%. This was good news, further evidence of “decoupling” emissions from economic activity. But it was also bad news because, says Rhodium, the 1.9% drop in GHG’s was woefully short of the 6.9% annual decrease required from now to 2030 to meet our Paris target of a 50-52% reduction in GHG emissions below 2005 levels.

Here we examine the locus of the good news: the 8% drop in electricity generation in 2023 vs. 2022 that enabled the 2% drop in overall emissions despite rises in emissions from transportation and some other sectors.

(Note: Rhodium’s report couches emissions as GHG’s, whereas we calculate and speak in terms of CO2; a request to Rhodium to express their data as CO2 wasn’t answered.)

The chart at left seems to reinforce the customary line that the leading driver of reduced U.S. carbon emissions is the switch to gas-fired power generation from coal-fired electricity. Indeed, the 101 TWh increase in gas-fired kilowatt-hours accounted numerically for three-quarters of the 134 TWh drop in coal, indicating the close (if inverse) link between the two. Since modern “combined cycle” gas-burning plants emit a whopping 60% less CO2 per kWh than coal-burners, substituting the one for the other is a climate win, even allowing for the greenhouse impacts of methane released in gas drilling and transmission.

What’s missing from this narrative is the role of energy efficiency in suppressing demand for electricity, which we depict in the graph’s two right-most bars and in the callout graph below, at right.

The first bar, showing a gain of 47 TWh labeled as Efficiency, denotes the reduction in total U.S. electricity generation over the first 9 months of 2023 vs. the year-earlier 9-month total. That contraction enabled U.S. grids to cut back on fossil-fuel generation. Without it, either the reduction in coal-fired electricity would have been less than the 134 TWh shown, or the increase in gas-fired electricity would have had to be greater than the actual 101 TWh, or a combination of the two. (The other sources — nuclear, hydro, wind and solar — already produce at their maximum capability.) Power-sector emissions would have been greater in either case.

But the efficiency story doesn’t end there. U.S. economic output wasn’t flat in 2023, it grew by 2.4% over 2022 (per preliminary figures reported by Rhodium). In earlier periods of U.S. history, that economic growth would have required greater electricity production. For most of the last century, the ratio averaged around 2-to-1, i.e., use of  electricity grew twice as fast as GDP. From 1975 to around 2005, the relationship was around 1-to-1. Since 2005, in a profound development that few predicted (and which few have acknowledged, other than CTC), U.S. electricity usage has been virtually flat, even as economic activity has risen by more than 40 percent.

I’ve used a 1-to-1 relationship for this post, i.e., I’ve assumed that if not for increased energy efficiency, the 2.4% year-on-year growth in U.S. economic activity would have required a 2.4% increase in electricity production. Numerically, nearly 80 additional TWh would have been required (calculated as 2.4% of 2022 9-month U.S. electricity production, including rooftop solar, of 3,283,000 TWh). Adding that amount to the actual decrease in electricity yields the true efficiency figure of 126 TWh shown in the right-most bar.

The biggest enabler of the 2022 drop in U.S. coal-fired electricity generation, then, wasn’t the 101 TWh increase in power production from natural gas, though that played a big part. It certainly wasn’t solar, which grew by nearly 15%, a hefty rise, but by just 27 TWh in absolute terms. Nor was it the U.S. wind sector, which actually contracted in the first nine months of the year (see first chart, above). It was the increase in the efficiency with which electricity supports economic activity, which enabled a 126 TWh drop in electricity use vis-a-vis the historical 1-to-1 relationship between use of electricity and GDP.

Well-meaning misinformation from Canary Media, Jan. 10. See link to story in text.

That’s not the standard spin. Rhodium reports that “coal is playing less and less of a role on the grid, while both natural gas and renewable generators are filling the gap.” True, but it leaves out the vital — I would say central — role played by energy efficiency in constraining U.S. electricity demand so that the increase in gas-burning could be held to 101 TWh.

For sheer distortion it’s hard to top Canary Media’s take, shown at left, that “the buildout of renewable energy helped to curb America’s greenhouse gas emissions by 1.9% in 2023.” While that’s true, the gain in renewable power output was a sideshow to electricity efficiency. Indeed, netting the 27 TWh increase in solar output by the combined 23 TWh decrease in hydro and wind generation leaves next to nothing in the way of net renewables growth.

Remember the adage about victory having a thousand fathers while defeat is an orphan? In climate circles and energy policy, last year’s modest success in reducing emissions has multiple parents: more gas-burning, more solar arrays, more renewables. Yet the true climate guardian n 2023 and prior years — increased efficiency in electricity usage — goes unremarked. This inattention is mirrored in policy. The Inflation Reduction Act subsidizes everything from electric cars and heat pumps to battery storage and manufacture of wind turbines and solar cells. It doesn’t, for the most part, subsidize ways to use energy more efficiently.

That’s not deliberate, it’s inherent in the nature of energy efficiency, savings and conservation: they involve ways of doing more with less, and they come in a million guises. They can’t be subsidized, but they can be rewarded, by taxing carbon emissions.

As we’ve been saying for decades: Taxes on fossil fuels, levied “upstream” at mines, wells and import docks, raise the value of every personal, corporate and collective action to reduce unnecessary use of energy. There’s no way around taxing carbon.

Strawberry Yields Forever: A tax on California groundwater broadens the case for carbon pricing

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Please admit California’s Pajaro Valley to the storehouse of evidence that charging a fee to use scarce resources can stretch those resources, to the benefit of all.

Never heard of Pajaro Valley? Me neither, until I came across NY Times climate reporter Coral Davenport’s compelling end-of-year story, Strawberry Case Study: What if Farmers Had to Pay for Water? Turns out I once hitch-hiked there en route to the spectacular Big Sur coast south of Monterey. But the payoff today is in the story’s subhead: With aquifers nationwide in dangerous decline, one part of California has tried essentially taxing groundwater. New research shows it’s working.

California’s Pajaro Valley, at center of this Google Map, hugs the Pacific Coast midway between Santa Cruz and Monterey and straddles the two counties named for those cities.

What’s working? A charge for groundwater extracted to grow strawberries, raspberries, brussels sprouts, lettuce and kale, administered by the state-chartered Pajaro Valley Water Management Agency to prevent saltwater from the adjacent Pacific Ocean from intruding into underground aquifers. The fee, which began several decades ago at a nominal $30 per acre-foot of water to recover PVWMA’s water-metering costs, now runs as high as $400, according to Davenport.

Lest that rise seem meteoric, and today’s price appear punitive, consider that currently the agency’s total annual water fees, $12 million, equate to barely 1 percent of annual Pajaro Valley crop revenues of $1 billion. What’s more, an acre-foot — the standard volumetric for water supply — is enormous, roughly 326,000 gallons. Even the projected 2025 groundwater fee of $500 per acre-foot translates to just 0.15 cents to a gallon, or a mere one-hundredth of a cent for an 8-ounce glass of water.

To be sure, that calculation is merely illustrative; water for drinking and water for growing crops are two different things. But consider what Pajaro Valley growers get from paying for water.

First, their payments are helping assure increased supplies of crop-worthy water. Revenue from the water fees enabled PVWMA to undertake a $6 million project that captures excess rainwater from a creek near the ocean and injects it into underground wells to be used for irrigation, and a $20 million water recycling plant that cleans 5 million gallons of sewage a day and pipes it to farm fields. Next up, Davenport tells us, is an $80 million system to capture and store more rainwater for irrigation. By replenishing and “stretching’ supplies of groundwater, these investments help ensure that brackish water from the ocean doesn’t seep into Pajaro Valley wells.

Just as importantly, the growers receive a potent incentive to use available water supplies more efficiently. “Gone were the days of sprinklers that drenched fields indiscriminately,” Davenport writes. “To save money, many Pajaro farmers invested in precision irrigation technology to distribute carefully measured water exactly where it was needed.” (See text box.) Though the article doesn’t mention it, these investments by dozens of individual growers might not have materialized had not all growers been subject to the same incentives to conserve as well.

Economics

Undergirding Davenport’s upbeat reporting is a 2023 working paper, The Dynamic Impacts of Pricing Groundwater, by three economists at U-C Berkeley’s Dept. of Agricultural and Resource Economics. In academic parlance, “dynamic” doesn’t connote a Marvel superhero, it refers to changes over time. By examining changes in water usage over time, the authors conclude that each “21% price increase led to a … 22% reduction in average annual groundwater extraction” by Pajaro Valley growers.

The implied price-elasticity is roughly negative 1.3. (The paper helpfully reports that “The reduction in annual water use doubles between the first year and the fifth year after the tax, with the implied price elasticity of demand ranging from negative 0.86 to negative 1.97.) This empirically-derived price sensitivity is far greater than the price elasticities assumed in CTC’s carbon-tax model, befitting not only the greater salience of water use for growers vis-a-vis energy use for consumers and even most businesses, but the greater agency of Pajaro Valley growers who, Davenport’s reporting suggests, over time have increasingly bought into PVWMA’s groundwater fee in both theory and execution.

After reading Davenport’s article I reached out to hydrologist, climatologist and water sustainability expert Peter Gleick, whose latest book, The Three Ages of Water: Prehistoric Past, Imperiled Present, and a Hope for the Future, was published last year by Hachette / Public Affairs. Peter praised the article while preferring to denote the PVWMA groundwater charge “not [as a] tax but a fee or simply a price for a commodity.” He added, “When we pay for something, we’re more conscious of how we use it. When something is free, we’re more likely to misuse and abuse it. That’s certainly been the case historically for California groundwater.”

Carbon Taxes?

A number of posts in this space have touted — we might say “flogged” — other instances of resource or externality pricing, as possible templates for large-scale carbon pricing. In 2016 we wrote about Berkeley’s soda tax, actually a tax on the sugar content of soft drinks, and summarized research showing that sales of sugar-sweetened beverages fell 21% in that city while rising 4% in “control groups,” i.e., neighboring municipalities where soft drinks continued untaxed. Last year we explained why Congestion pricing, coming soon to New York City, could bode well for carbon-taxing — a message we previously broadcast several times in 2019 as the enabling legislation was being enacted in Albany, in March and in April.

We also dug deep in 2017, writing about an incipient NYC nickel fee on carryout bags dispensed at supermarkets, grocery and convenience stores. (The fee was a month away from taking effect, and though we haven’t yet seen before/after comparisons, anecdotal evidence suggests that trees in New York City are today far less encumbered by windblown plastic bags that we referred to then as “gossamer debris stuck, like tumors, to our half-a-million street trees.”) We can also go back half a century, to 1972, when NYC environmental officials conjured a “dirty oil surcharge” that forced petroleum suppliers to cough up a fee for each barrel of high-sulfur oil they brought into the city, a remarkably successful (but little known) instance of externality pricing that I memorialized in a 2009 post for Grist, Pollution Taxes Work.

Needless to say, none of these fees — not the soda tax, not congestion charging, not the carryout bag fee, and not the dirty oil surcharge — has paved the way for full-on carbon pricing. While each of them has been or will be a resounding success, their scale is far too local and the stakes far too small to translate automatically to national or even state-level carbon pricing. The same will hold for California’s Pajaro Valley groundwater fee. Indeed, California water districts are wrestling today with the hard work of fulfilling a state mandate requiring every part of the state to devise a plan to conserve groundwater.

Happily, Davenport notes that PVWMA officials and even some growers are advising their statewide counterparts to emulate their approach, including “local control” rather than state or even county governance. Dedicating the groundwater-fee revenues to investments to expand and extend supply, as Pajaro Valley has done, seems a no-brainer.

Less happily, Davenport notes that the Westlands Water District, which serves the state’s giant Central Valley breadbasket, is pushing a plan “that would allow growers to pay for credits to use groundwater above a certain allocation.”  The growers “could buy and sell the credits, starting at about $200 a credit,” Davenport notes. While this scheme certainly improves on the status quo of charging little or nothing for groundwater use, it’s complicated and drenched in market ideology, much as carbon cap-and-trade systems needlessly encumber what could and should be straightforward carbon pricing.

Let’s not end on that dour note, however. All instances of resource charging — whether to stretch a limited resource or to internalize pollution or other externality costs — make it easier to build support for enacting new ones. Davenport’s story — here’s the link again — is both brilliant reporting and cause for optimism.

We close with a snap of the story opening and photo as they appeared on the front page of today’s (Jan. 4, 2024) Times, above the fold. Below it are calculations in which we derived figures in the first part of this post.

 

Calculation #1: Glasses of water in an acre-foot.

  • One acre = 43,560 ft^2, so one acre-foot = 43,560 ft^3.
  • One ft^3 (cubic foot) contains 957.5 fluid oz. (per inchcalculator.com; that figure jibes with the 62.4 lb weight of one cubic foot of water).
  • A standard water glass contains 8 fluid oz. Thus, one ft^3 of water can fill 957.5/8 = 120 glasses.
  • One acre-foot then contains enough water to fill 43,560 x 120 = 5.2 million glasses. Spreading a per-acre foot charge of $500 over that many glasses computes to 0.01 cents each.

Calculation #2: Groundwater-use price-elasticity inferred from empirical finding that a 21 percent price increase evokes a 22 percent decrease in usage.

  • It is tempting to reduce this roughly 1-to-1 relationship to a (negative) 1.0 price-elasticity. However, that would ignore the law of diminishing returns and, mathematically, the convex relationship between changes in price and changes in usage.
  • The price-elasticity is derived by solving for e in the equation, (1 + 0.21)^e = (1 minus 0.22).
  • Using base-10 logarithms, we have: e times log 1.21 = log 0.78, which (omitting one or two steps) leads to e = negative 1.3.

Carbon Pricing Is Anti-Colonialist

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Israel’s bombardment of Gaza in response to Hamas’ October assault on Jewish civilians is prompting much soul-searching. One reappraisal that caught my eye was Who’s a ‘Colonizer’? How an Old Word Became a New Weapon, which ran earlier this month in The New York Times.

The piece, by veteran NY Times correspondent Roger Cohen, centers on two opposing ideas — clashes, if you will. One, particular to the current war, concerns the charge that Israel is an outpost of “settler colonialism” and the counterclaim that the Jewish state, “far from being colonialist,” in Cohen’s words, “is a diverse nation largely formed by a gathering-in of the persecuted.” The other is what Cohen calls “a fundamental reframing” of history away from an East-West conflict canonized in the American and French revolutions, toward a North-South struggle “focused on the millions of lives lost to the slave trade and the genocide of the native American peoples.”

The scene in San Francisco on Sept 10, 2018 as activists with the Climate Justice Alliance demonstrated outside California Gov. Jerry Brown’s Climate Action Summit.

Cohen’s grappling with colonialism and colonization took me back to 2018 and the image shown at left. Outside a “Climate Action Summit” convened in San Francisco by Jerry Brown toward the end of his fourth and final term as governor of California, activists from the Climate Justice Alliance hoisted a banner proclaiming “Carbon Pricing Is Colonialism.”

To me, the message was shocking but not surprising.

Shocking, in equating carbon pricing — an admittedly technocratic but singularly powerful policy tool for cutting carbon emissions and, thus, aiding vulnerable nations and communities considered most gravely threatened by climate chaos — with the centuries-long colonial project that subjugated and plundered the Global South to benefit the colonizing North, and whose psychological and financial toll endures.

Unsurprising, in light of the climate-justice movement’s embrace of intersectionality, and with it, conflation of carbon pricing with predatory capitalism that, over centuries, bestowed riches on Europeans and North Americans by stealing the lands of Indigenous people, the labor of people of African descent, and the mineral resources of the entire Global South.

What Is Colonialism?

Wikipedia usefully defines colonialism as “a practice by which one group of people, social construct, or nation state controls, directs, or imposes taxes or tribute on other people or areas, often by establishing colonies, generally for strategic and economic advancement of the colonizing group or construct.”

Notwithstanding Wiki’s disclaimer in the same paragraph that there’s “no clear definition” of colonialism, this one is distinct and, with its reference to taxes, pertinent.

How Carbon Taxing Actually Works

Suppose carbon emissions were taxed in every country. Would that entail colonizing of poor nations by the rich? It could, but only if the carbon-tax wealth — the revenue generated by the tax on carbon emissions — was siphoned off by the rich countries.

There is no carbon-taxing or pricing system under which that would take place.

Keep in mind that carbon taxing is a charge on carbon emissions. If Country A exports fossil fuels to Country B, the carbon tax arises when the fuels are burned, which takes place in Country B. The tax is imposed in and collected by Country B, and the revenues adhere to Country B.

What about Country A? Its carbon tax applies to fuels burned there — to power vehicles, to generate electricity, to run factories, to heat buildings, and, yes, to operate the machinery that extracts the fossil fuels from the ground and brings them to docks for export. Each of those combustion processes generates carbon emissions in Country A which will be taxed by Country A and whose revenues will stay in Country A.

There are genuine debates to be had as to how Country A, the exporter, will spend its revenues, just as there are or should be debates in Country B concerning disposition of its carbon revenues. Nevertheless, under no conceivable carbon-pricing regime will revenues from Country A’s carbon tax flow to Country B.

Where in this picture is colonialism?

Is it in the prospect that taxes on carbon emissions in Country B and other importing countries will cut demand for Country A’s fuel exports . . . which will lower demand for Country A’s fuels and depress its commerce in extracting and exporting fossil fuels? No. This lowering of demand is part of the intent of taxing carbon — “a feature, not a bug,” per the expression.

Shrinking global demand for carbon fuels and thereby reducing Country A’s carbon commerce isn’t colonialism. It’s not a coercive transfer of wealth or imposition of tribute. Rather, it’s part of how the world cuts emissions and protects the climate, accomplished entirely by and under the control of Country A.

The Colonial Adjacency of Carbon Offsets

Carbon offsets are accounting devices to enable “polluters,” who may be countries, companies or individuals such as air travelers, to avoid having to reduce their own emissions, by purchasing offsets or “carbon credits” that ostensibly cut emissions elsewhere, e.g., by planting trees or destroying greenhouse chemicals like Freon. Plagued from the start by the rap that they are little more than get-out-of-jail-free cards for the Global North, and further undercut by repeated evidence of fraud, carbon offsets have not only hindered effective climate action but have also ended up sullying the cause of carbon pricing.

We tweeted this after seeing the activists tweet their banner on Sept 10, 2018.

The Carbon Tax Center’s website section on carbon offsets recounts their history and controversy. Suffice it to say that offsets’ ties to various carbon cap-and-trade programs such as the European Union’s Emissions Trading System and California’s AB-32 carbon cap-and-trade program have led climate-justice campaigners to condemn not just offsets or carbon cap-and-trade but any proposed or actual form of carbon pricing — even straight-up carbon taxing with no offsets whatsoever.

What the Colonial Powers Owe Their Former Colonies

Let’s be clear that the developed countries owe an immense debt to the Global South for exhausting most of our planet’s carbon budget: trillions for climate adaptation; massive financing for clean-energy infrastructure; and large-scale technology transfer. Sweeping debt forgiveness would help as well. These obligations are, or should be, compulsory. But they have nothing to do with carbon pricing. They certainly won’t be exacerbated by taxing carbon emissions whether in the Global South or North. Rather, the emission reductions that carbon pricing will spark will buy extra time for former colonies to manage, adjust and thrive as the payments, financing  and technology ramp up.

Carbon Pricing is Anti-Colonial

We conclude this with its headline. Carbon pricing is utterly and intrinsically anti-colonial. Nations levy their own carbon price and collect the revenues, which they allocate or invest as they see fit.

It’s not perfect. No policy is. And it’s not a silver bullet. When it comes to protecting and restoring climate, there’s no such thing.

But carbon taxing promises huge reductions in carbon emissions — 30 percent or better within ten years if ramped up steadily, in the case of the United States. And it’s complementary with virtually every other carbon-cutting action, be it regulatory, investment, or even clean-energy subsidization, to go far beyond that 30 percent mark. Moreover, pathways abound for allocating, or, our favorite approach, dividending the revenues to keep whole the vast majority of the most-vulnerable households

Carbon pricing is a policy path any nation can undertake on its own and manage as it chooses. If that’s not the essence of political autonomy, what is?

Environmental justice misgivings about carbon pricing, and antidotes to same, are discussed at length on our Carbon Pricing and Environmental Justice page.

Congestion pricing, coming soon to New York City, could bode well for carbon-taxing.

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Externality pricing is coming to New York City in a big, barrier-busting form known as congestion pricing. Judging from how it’s unfolding, it might just be bold enough to give a much-needed boost to the cause of U.S. carbon pricing.

In a long-awaited step, New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority this week unveiled its prospective tolls to drive a car or truck into Manhattan’s central business district. Barring a last-minute reversal, the Western hemisphere’s first congestion pricing program, and the world’s biggest by far in terms of revenue, will begin next June, just six months from now.

NY Gov. Kathy Hochul (top) and CTC director Charles Komanoff (below) speaking at Dec. 5 Union Square rally celebrating the march toward congestion pricing in NYC.

The plan took half-a-century to legislate and another four-and-a-half years to flesh out, culminating, for now, in its formal approval by the MTA board on Wednesday. Autos will be charged $15 to drive into Manhattan south of 60th Street between 5am-9pm weekdays and 9am-9pm weekends and holidays. Night-time tolls will be 75 percent lower, at $3.75. Trucks will pay more than cars, and for-hire vehicle trips that touch any part of the 8-square-mile congestion zone will be surcharged $1.25 (for yellow cabs) and $2.50 (for “ride-hail” vehicles, largely Ubers). Peak-period car trips to the zone via tunnels under the Hudson and East Rivers, which already pay double-digit round-trip tolls, will get $5 off, but other exemptions or discounts will be few except for low-income residents of the zone and commuters to it. (Many details here, by the author; and here, by the MTA’s toll-setting panel.)

The 2019 state legislation authorizing the tolls requires that they generate $1 billion a year net of administrative costs — a revenue stream sufficient to bond $15 billion in transit investments. Eighty percent of that, $12 billion, is earmarked for subway improvements such as station elevators to increase accessibility and fully digital signals to allow more frequent train service; the other $3 billion will be invested in expanding commuter rail service between the suburbs and Manhattan.

[Click here to watch/hear Gov. Hochul’s remarks depicted above. Click here for Komanoff’s.]

Revenue Most Visible

The billion-dollar a year take from New York congestion pricing puts it in the same league as the Northeast states’ Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative, which currently reaps $1.2 billion a year from sales of carbon emission permits for burning fossil fuels to make electricity. Yet “RGGI” is largely invisible to the public. So too are California’s economy-wide carbon cap-and-trade program, which started in 2013, and British Columbia’s 2008 carbon tax as well as subsequent cap-and-trade schemes elsewhere in Canada, .

Those other mechanisms rest on what former CTC staffer James Handley habitually derided as “hide the price” subterfuges. Congestion pricing, in contrast, hides nothing. Motorists know full well what they’ll soon have to pay to drive into the nation’s most gridlocked (and transit-rich) district. True, the surcharges on for-vehicle trips can be tricky to track — they add to rather than replace incumbent FHV surcharges of $2.50 and $2.75 for “taxi zone” trips in yellows and ride-hails, respectively. But congestion pricing’s main event is the fees for private car trips.

And “main event” is putting it mildly. Though the $15 peak car toll is many times less than the socially optimal toll (per Paul Krugman, whose July encomium to congestion program relied indirectly on my traffic-cost modeling) or the congestion costs imposed by a single car trip, which is nearly the same thing, it’s still a gut-punch for diehard drivers. Not only that, imposing a hefty price on car travel to capture externality costs rather than merely to pay for infrastructure provision is, let us say, deliciously transgressive in the USA. Kind of like taxing carbon emissions.

The point being: successfully implementing congestion pricing in New York — not simply putting it in place but having it deliver tangible benefits like more-reliable travel, more-livable streets and re-invigorated public transportation — conceivably could burnish carbon pricing not just in New York but nationwide.

Enacting Carbon Taxes Remains Devilishly Difficult

Let’s be clear, though. As if getting New York congestion pricing within inches of the goal line hasn’t been hard enough, enacting a national, i.e., federal carbon tax worthy of the name — one that hits triple digits within a half-dozen years or less — will be devilishly more difficult. Consider these differences between New York congestion pricing and national carbon taxing:

    1. The economic incidence of NY congestion pricing is far more income-progressive than national carbon pricing. A bulwark of CP advocacy here has been unstinting support from the Community Service Society — the city’s and nation’s oldest antipoverty NGO. It’s hard to picture comparable support for nationwide carbon pricing. Not even “dividending” carbon revenues, which CTC strongly supports, can guarantee that millions of U.S. households won’t pay more in higher fuel costs than they’ll get back in monthly carbon dividends. Inevitably and unfortunately, some will slip through the dividend’s safety net, allowing opponents to cast even the most judicious revenue treatment for carbon taxing as insufficient to protect the poor.
    2. NY congestion pricing comes with a natural route for managing the congestion revenues: investing them in long-term mass transit improvements. It was this facet, more than the promise of lessened auto traffic, that brought the city’s rich tapestry of transit advocates into the fore of the congestion pricing campaign. Even motorists — some of them, anyway — grasp improved transit’s value to them as a means of dissuading others to invade “their” road space. National carbon pricing has no such obvious path for distributing or investing its revenues. Sure, spending carbon revenues on renewables and efficiency, particularly in historically disadvantaged communities, has a nice ring, but in practice there’s no clear carbon revenue spending path that won’t disaffect vast numbers of stakeholders. Now factor in the orders-of-magnitude difference in annual dollars — a billion or so in the case of NY congestion pricing vs. half-a-trillion for a comprehensive triple-digit U.S. carbon tax. Talk about a donnybrook gap!
    3. America’s geographic vastness and cultural separateness make it nearly impossible for citizens to consistently find common ground, as evidenced by our red-vs.-blue and urban-vs.-rural polarization. Even as New York City’s sense of conjoined fate has frayed somewhat, many residents still manage to cultivate a sense of connectedness to each other. Nationally, that ship has sailed. Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” anthem is 80 years old. Fond hopes from the 1990s or early 2000s that combating climate change might re-invigorate Americans’ shared humanity seem almost as distant.

Antidotes

To these three difficulties we have three antidotes.

Over the prior decade, the wealthiest U.S. household quintile spent 3.3 times as much on gasoline as the poorest — evidence of the power of carbon dividends to more than offset the natural regressivity of higher energy prices.

The first is the power of carbon dividends. Even if they can’t keep whole every single low-income U.S. household — there are, after all, 65 million below-median-income families, each with its own consumption profile — the vast majority of those households will reap more in dividends than they’ll pay with the carbon tax. Not just that, the dividend approach bypasses political fights over where and how to invest the revenues.

A second possible antidote is the exigency of the climate crisis itself. Unlike NYC traffic congestion or failing transit, which public policies like congestion pricing can vanquish going forward, climate collapse can’t be reversed. This ineluctable fact could, or should, motivate climate advocates to re-evaluate their largely ideological objections to robust carbon pricing (which we discuss elsewhere in terms of climate justice campaigners and self-identified progressives). Given that people of color, whether in the U.S. or the Global South, are disproportionately vulnerable to climate chaos, hope remains that carbon-pricing opponents may reconsider their antipathy to the most efficacious policy for slashing emissions and actually protecting the populations they profess to care about.

The third, as always is organizing. Carbon-taxing proponents need to keep up the pressure. We also need to expand our tent, as we wrote about last month in Gainsharing: Carbon Taxes Can Put Clean Energy Back in the Black. We’ll have more to say soon on that score.

Gainsharing: Carbon Taxes Can Put Clean Energy Back in the Black

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Note: This post distills and extends ideas from our Nov. 1 post, The Carbon-Tax Nimby Cure.

From the East Coast to Idaho’s high desert, big green-energy investments are foundering.

Composite of (top) first U.S. SMR complex (NuScale facility, artist’s depiction) and (below) offshore wind farm (Orsted’s UK Hornsea facility). Neither was in line for more than token revenues tied to displaced carbon emissions. Both have been cancelled.

Just in the past week, Danish wind giant Orsted scuttled the 2,248-megawatt Ocean Wind farm it was developing off New Jersey’s Atlantic coast, while NuScale scrapped its planned 462-MW complex of six 77-MW small modular reactors (SMRs) near Idaho Falls.

Both ventures were viewed as door-openers to new forms of large-scale U.S. carbon-free green power. They would have contributed mightily to decarbonizing their respective grids, taking the place of fossil fuel electricity now spewing nearly 4 million metric tons of carbon dioxide each year.

Their demise, along with dimming prospects for Equinor’s 2,076-MW Empire Wind farm off Long Island, NY, suggest that the vaunted crossover point at which big green-energy investments will come seamlessly to fruition fast and hard enough to rapidly decarbonize our grids is receding.

The 1983 title denoted “hard energy” facilities like giant power stations and LNG terminals. Nowadays it also seems apt for big green-energy projects.

The causes are no mystery: supply bottlenecks, spiraling materials costs, 40-year-high interest rates, Nimby obstruction. Not all of these will necessarily persist, but suddenly the combination looks daunting. Big energy projects, once derided as “brittle” by energy guru Amory Lovins, are rife with negative synergies. Nimbys stretch project schedules and impose punishing interest costs, particularly on big wind farms, a phenomenon we wrote about a week ago in The Carbon-Tax Nimby Cure.

Alas, Joe Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act is not a panacea. IRA incentives primarily lift EV’s, rooftop solar, heat pumps, batteries and factories. By themselves they’re not going to refloat stalled clean power projects. The big push will have to come from somewhere else.

What a Robust Carbon Price Could Do for Green Energy

A robust carbon price could do the trick. Not a token price like RGGI’s $15, which is the per-metric-ton (“tonne”) of CO2 value of the 4Q 2023 permit price in the northeast US Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative electricity generation cap-and-trade program; but $50 or more per tonne of carbon dioxide, preferably $100.

I’ve been calculating how much profit a robust carbon price could inject into clean-energy bottom lines. The numbers are so astounding that I checked and rechecked them. Here’s one: A $100/tonne carbon price in NY would allow Empire Wind to charge an additional $200 million or more each year for its output. How? Because the tax would raise the “bid price” for natural gas-generated electricity, the dominant power source and thus the price-setter on the downstate grid by so much — $30 to $35 per MWh, I estimate — that Empire Wind’s 7.25 million MWh’s a year could extract an additional $240 million in its power purchase agreement with the NY grid operator.

Lots to see here. The dollar figures, including the $/MWh bottom lines, are derived off-screen. Added revenues will be less if gas generators lower their grid prices somewhat, but will be more if the methane fee enacted as part of the 2022 IRA comes into play.

Same goes for NuScale. I estimate that its Idaho SMRs could command an additional $100 million a year (less than for Empire Wind because the project is smaller and not all of its output will replace fossil fuels). This additional value equates to $29 per MWh — nearly the same, coincidentally, as the $31/MWh climb in costs since 2021 that triggered NuScale’s cancellation, according to a report by the anti-nuclear Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis.

These added payments to clean-energy developers are not “subsidies.” They arise by slashing ongoing subsidies now enjoyed by fossil fuel providers and processors — in this case the methane-gas extractors and the electricity generators that burn the fuel — by subjecting these fuels to carbon pricing. The added payments will come about as the carbon price forces the gas generators to raise their sale price to the grid (to recoup their higher price to purchase the gas), which then creates room for Empire (or NuScale) to raise its prices.

Every cent of the carbon tax revenues will remain fully available for public purposes, whether to support low-income ratepayers, or invest in more clean energy or community remediation, or, our preference at CTC, as “dividend” checks to households. None of it needs to be earmarked to Empire or NuScale for them or other clean-power generators to rebuild their profit margins. The gainsharing comes about through pricing carbon emissions, not disbursing the carbon revenues.

Adios, Nimbys?

The Not In My Back Yard crowd wasn’t an apparent factor in NuScale’s downfall. (“Regulatory creep” was, but that’s a story for another time, not to mention one I dissected 40 years ago for the peer-reviewed journal Nuclear Safety.) But they certainly were for Ocean Wind in NJ and will be in NY if Empire Wind goes down the drain.

But here’s the thing: Not only would the added revenue allowed by the carbon price help return Empire Wind to the black. It would give Equinor, the developer, the wherewithal to spread so much largesse among the residents of Long Beach, LI (my hometown!) that they could subdue the Nimbys who have been able to hold up permitting by spreading scare stories about the routing of the project’s power cables underground. Nimby-ism solved, not by suasion (a fool’s errand) but by motivating the masses in the middle who evidently require more tangible inducements than saving the climate (or their beaches or homes).

Let’s Think Big

Ocean Wind, Empire Wind and NuScale are just a few examples of carbon-free projects that could again pencil out with robust carbon pricing. The question remains, how do we get there?

The point of this new analysis isn’t so much to tie clean energy to carbon pricing, but to enlist the political power and prestige of clean-energy entrepreneurs and developers on the side of carbon-tax advocacy.

As we noted in our previous (Nov. 1) post, during headier carbon-pricing times (2007 to 2011) the Carbon Tax Center attempted, alongside allies like Friends of the Earth, the Friends Committee on National Legislation, and Citizens Climate Lobby, to induce the American Wind Energy Association, the Solar Energy Industry Association and other green-tech trade groups to join us in advocating carbon taxing. We put out similar feelers to the Nuclear Energy Institute and the American Nuclear Energy Council. Getting the U.S. nuke lobby behind carbon taxing should have been a no-brainer, given that carbon taxes that monetized the climate value of nuclear power plants’ combustion-free electricity could have supplied mega-dollars to keep extant reactors solvent.

2010 redux: Equation at left signifying “Renewable Energy cheaper than Fossil Fuels” was a cleantech meme. Button on right, created by then-CTC senior policy analyst James Handley, was less prevalent. Time to meld the two?

No dice. We weren’t granted even one conversation with the nuclear folks. The wind and solar people, for their part, insisted that unending cost reductions through increased scale and efficiency, along with green power’s inherent magical appeal, would propel them past any obstacle. Why besmirch our Randian aura with energy taxes, they seemed to say, when our tech is going to usher in energy abundance and spare earth’s climate?

Things look different now. Big, carbon-free power ventures — the ones that everyone from governors and ambassadors to scientists and schoolkids are counting on to get us off fossil fuels — are beset by troubles: financial, logistical, cultural.

Without genuine carbon pricing that accords clean energy the economic rewards to which it’s entitled, too many large-scale green energy projects are going to come up short. As we asked in that earlier post: Will clean-power developers look at this week’s NJ and Idaho losses, among others, and decide that they need a carbon tax every bit as much as the climate does?

The Carbon-Tax NIMBY Cure

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NY Gov. Kathy Hochul last month vetoed a bill that could have expedited a huge wind farm in the Atlantic Ocean off Long Island. Her veto imperils not just the project, called Empire Wind, but New York State’s hopes to decarbonize its electric grid and validate its claim to national climate leadership.

I’ll argue here that a state or federal carbon price — one more substantial than the relative pittance of $15 per ton now being charged for electricity sector emissions under the RGGI compact — could have helped the developers beat back the NIMBYs whose rabble-rousing helped force Hochul’s hand. Let’s review the project and then explain how its difficulties are connected to the absence of robust carbon pricing.

Empire Wind Will Be Large

There will be 138 turbines, identical and gigantic. At 387 feet, each turbine blade will be the length of a football field including the end zones. The distance from water surface to blade tip at full height will be 886 feet, roughly the extent of two celebrated Manhattan towers that a century ago were the world’s tallest buildings: the 792-foot Woolworth Building (#1 from 1913 to 1930) and the 1,046-foot Chrysler Building (1930-1931). An even funner fact, from the developer’s spec sheet, is this: just one complete rotation by one turbine’s three blades will “power a New York home for about 1.5 days.”

The anticipated annual electrical generation from Empire Wind 1 and 2 combined is 7.25 TWh (or, if it’s easier, 7,250,000,000 kilowatt-hours),assuming a 40% yearly capacity factor. Here are four alternative ways of visualizing the significance of that output:

  • Empire Wind’s 7.25 TWh is half again as great (i.e., 1.5x as large) as the entire production by New York State wind turbines in 2022 (that figure was 4.8 TWh);
  • 7.25 TWh is 5 to 6 percent as great as all electricity generated from all state sources in 2022 (130.5 TWh);
  • 7.25 TWh is one-sixtieth (1/60) as much as all U.S. wind-generated electricity last year (435 TWh), a figure that itself constituted a tenth of U.S. electricity production from all sources;
  • 7.25 TWh is close to (12 percent less than) the average annual 2010-2019 output of either of the twin Indian Point reactors in suburban Westchester County that until their recent forced retirement were downstate New York’s lone large-scale source of carbon-free electricity. (The entire Indian Point station’s average annual output over its final decade, 2010-2019, was 16.5 TWh.)

Putting aside that last benchmark — which is intended as a reminder of the carbon disaster of shutting Indian Point (and a cautionary tale against shutting its West Coast doppelganger, Diablo Canyon) — Empire Wind looms large in New York state’s goal of attaining a 70 percent carbon-free grid in 2030.

The state’s 2022 carbon-free electricity share was just 48 to 49 percent, down from 60 percent in 2019, before Indian Point’s closure commenced. If Empire Wind’s output were available today, the statewide share would stand at 54 percent, indicating that this single (albeit two-part) project can close a quarter of the gap from the current clean percentage to the 2030 target.

Hochul and the NIMBYs

Along with infusing the grid with billions of clean kilowatt-hours, building and servicing Empire Wind 1 and 2 is expected to create 1,300 permanent onshore jobs — 300 to manufacture turbine components at the Port of Albany, and 1,000 in operation and maintenance at the South Brooklyn Marine Terminal, according to Equinor, the developer. These numbers, along with the clean electricity, ought to be catnip for any Democratic politician.

Why, then, did Hochul on Oct. 20 veto a bill that could have cleared the path for the Empire Wind 2 power cable to run under Long Beach and connect to the electric grid in Oceanside?

There’s no shortage of possible rationales. Long Island flipped from shaky blue to all red a year ago, as Democrats lost all four Congressional races and a number of state legislative seats while Hochul herself was outvoted there in her unnervingly close re-election. She may be seeking to preserve political capital for a possible renewed push to undo exclusionary zoning that that keeps housing in Nassau and Suffolk counties unaffordable for newcomers or those without generational wealth. Moreover, Empire Wind itself has faced financial headwinds due to supposed supply chain bottlenecks and spiraling financing costs, with the latter due in no small part to the regulatory delays.

Whatever the reasons, Hochul  went all NIMBY-friendly. Her veto message faulted Equinor for running roughshod over Long Beach residents (see pull quote at left) rather than calling out the obstructionists for teeing up a replay of 2012’s Superstorm Sandy that devastated the very communities that now are clamoring for the wind project to go away.

In her message, the governor ignored the tinfoil-hat essence of most anti-wind opposition, which one observer, a former New York City chief climate policy advisor, characterized as combining “propaganda from the fossil fuel industry, rumor mongering in local communities, and basic nimbyism.” As NY Focus helpfully reported in Long Island Politicians Claim Victory for Hochul Wind Power Veto, objections to the Empire Wind farm and cables run the gamut from shopworn (ocean views sullied by turbines 15 miles offshore) to debunked (health-harming electromagnetic radiation from the power cables) to chronologically impaired (“We’ve had a huge number of [dead] whales that are showing up on our beaches,” a state senator fretted, yet not even a single offshore wind turbine has begun operating on the Atlantic Coast).

Entire cable route through Long Beach is underground. Yet NIMBYs are holding hostage a not-quite-in-their-backyard project that would more than double NY wind power production. Incidentally, I was born and grew up in a house on Washington Blvd, just a few blocks past the left edge of the map. Equinor map adapted by CTC.

Hochul and her staff seem unaware that there is no placating NIMBYs, whether their sights are trained on giant offshore wind projects or small-bore items like transit-friendly higher-rise housing or bike lanes. To the naysayers, any palpable change in their way of life is either Armageddon in itself or a pathway to purgatory. The only way to deal with them is to give pro-development, pro-change forces the strength to vanquish the NIMBYs outright — which is where carbon pricing comes in.

Would You Like $240 Million in (Annual) Carbon Benefits With Your Order?

Offshore wind’s chief virtue — in some respects, its true raison d’être — is its ability to take the place of dirty, fossil-fuel electricity generation in the grid. This asset is particularly salient in the case of Empire Wind, insofar as the downstate New York grid, with only modest interconnections to greener grids upstate or elsewhere, obtains more than 90 percent of its annual electricity by burning methane (“natural”) gas.

As a result, nearly every kilowatt-hour from Empire Wind will directly displace a kWh from burning fracked gas. And though the 90% share will decline when the new Champlain-Hudson Power Express transmission line enters service, perhaps in 2026, nearly all of the “incremental,” hour-by-hour power production actually avoided by generation from Empire Wind will still be gas-fired when the project’s two parts come on line in 2028 and 2029.

Now picture a federal or state carbon tax — or “price” if you prefer. Set it at $100 per metric ton (“tonne”) of CO2, which is both a round number and the level the Carbon Tax Center has been advocating since our inception, to be reached after a ramp-up taking half-a-dozen years. Now apply the carbon tax to the CO2 emitted from one kWh generated by burning gas. You’ll find that the carbon tax associated with each such kilowatt-hour is 3.9 cents.

Calculations: 659 x 10^6 tonnes (CO2 emissions from 2022 U.S. gas-fired electricity) divided by 1.689 x 10^12 kWh (U.S. electricity generated with gas in 2022) multiplied by 10^4 ¢ charged per tonne yields 3.90¢/kWh.

Let’s bring that figure down to earth: With a $100/ton (okay, tonne) carbon tax, each gas-fired kWh in competition with Empire’s offshore wind would cost 3.9 cents more to generate than at present. (To keep the discussion simple, I’ve refrained from counting an additional tax on methane.) We trim that to 3.3¢/kWh because the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative (RGGI) already charges a carbon price on fuels used to generate electricity in New York and neighboring states; in the most recent (September) quarterly auction, that price reached $13.85 per short ton, equivalent to $15.25 per metric ton, which we deduct from our aspirational $100/tonne carbon price to avoid double-counting, reducing it by just over 15 percent.

The hypothetical 3.3¢/kWh additional carbon charge for gas-generated electricity (stemming from the $100 carbon price) multiplied by Empire Wind’s 7.25 TWh annual output yields $240 million per year. Those dollars represent a first estimate of the additional annual revenue Equinor could have sought in its 2018 and 2020 bids responding to NYSERDA’s solicitations to prospective developers of offshore wind projects. (See text box further below.) With a robust NY carbon price, in other words, Equinor’s Empire Wind venture would enjoy a far higher profit margin.

Offshore Wind’s Missing Carbon Price

Imagine what Equinor might have done with $240 million a year in additional Empire Wind revenue. It could have banked, say, half that amount to offset the price escalation and higher interest costs that this year lowered its prospective profit margins and compelled it to appeal to NY State to grant a higher price for its production. (Incidentally, the NY Public Service Commission’s Oct. 12 order denying Equinor’s petition seeking renegotiation of its power contract with NYSERDA provides a good capsule summary of NY state offshore wind activity; it can be found via this link; search for Cases 15-E-0302 and 18-E-0071.)

The other $120 million, or a good chunk of it, could have been used  — and might still be — to provide economic benefits to Long Beach and other communities that consider themselves “affected” by Empire Wind’s turbines or cables.

Empire Wind website paragraph about Taxes makes no mention of payments — voluntary or mandatory — to Long Beach and other communities.

As a thought-experiment, consider that $120 million distributed equally to Long Beach’s 11,700 households (assuming the city’s 35k population resides 3 per household) could provide recurring yearly dividends of around $10,000 per household, once the electricity began to flow. Perhaps more practical would be to set aside $75 million as a one-time payment to retire the so-called Haberman Judgment holding Long Beach financially responsible for blocking a proposed real-estate venture near the boardwalk and ocean beach several decades ago (see City of Long Beach 2023-2024 adopted budget, pages ii-iii).

Of course there are any number of other “improvements” that Long Beach, Island Park and Oceanside might elect to be funded by Equinor “payments in lieu of taxes.” I was surprised that Empire Wind’s online materials do not mention any such payments.

The idea is not to “win over” the NIMBYs — I consider that a fool’s errand — but to neutralize and politically overpower them by appealing to the larger community’s enlightened self-interest. Not so much the members of the Long Beach city council — who apparently (and astoundingly) went from 5-0 in favor of permitting the cable route to 0-5 between spring and fall of 2023 — but the citizenry that holds sway over them.

This isn’t my first time linking carbon pricing to big, hence potentially intrusive, green-energy projects. I struck that note in 2006, in Whither Wind, a long-form piece on wind and other green power for Orion magazine:

[I]if carbon fuels were taxed for their damage to the climate, wind power’s profit margins would widen, and surrounding communities could extract bigger tax revenues from wind farms. Then some of that bread upon the waters would indeed come back — in the form of a new high school, or land acquired for a nature preserve.

The urgency now is far greater. Today, as I was wrapping this post, the New York Times reported that the Danish offshore wind company Orsted canceled an equally large (2248 megawatts) wind farm, Ocean Wind 1 and 2, it was developing off New Jersey’s Atlantic coast. Orsted cited the same combination of faltering economics and local opposition (which of course weakens the economics further through delays) now besetting Equinor and Empire Wind. Note too that even though Empire Wind 1’s interconnection to the grid, also under the seabed but through Brooklyn, is not (now) threatened, the economics will almost certainly kill Part 1 if Empire Wind 2 through Long Beach goes down.

Long-time CTC followers will recall my standing frustration over wind and solar entrepreneurs’ lack of interest in pushing carbon pricing. Efficiency gains, cost reductions and the magical appeal of green power would carry them over any and every threshold, they imagined. Will today’s NJ offshore wind defeat and the one looming in NY be enough to convince clean-power developers that they need a carbon tax every bit as much as the climate does?

Exxon’s $59 Billion Spike Through Divestment’s Heart

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The impossibility of throttling Big Oil through fossil fuel divestment campaigns was laid bare last week when ExxonMobil announced it was acquiring Pioneer Natural Resources, the #1 driller in the #1 producing U.S. oilfield, the Permian Basin.

Chart from macrotrends.net shows ExxonMobil’s market capitalization (stock price x shares outstanding) last week near an all-time high.

In a transaction priced at $59.5 billion, Pioneer shareholders will receive slightly more than 2.3 shares of ExxonMobil stock for each Pioneer share. No banks are involved, no debt, no third parties; and, most noteworthy, no cash. Pioneer’s management evidently holds Exxon’s current and future financial strength in such high regard that it was willing to sign on to an all-stock deal.

Had it been necessary, though, Exxon could have bankrolled the entire acquisition using cash generated by its sales of petroleum products to U.S. and world motorists, truckers, air travelers and shippers. Last year alone, Exxon generated more than enough cash flow, $76.8 billion, to buy Pioneer outright. Its market capitalization stands at $450 billion, triple the lows during the 2020 pandemic year and higher than the $400 billion in 2012, when climate author-activist Bill McKibben kicked off the divestment movement with his Rolling Stone manifesto, Global Warming’s Terrifying New Math.

Photos by Johnny Silvercloud (L, 2015) and Herb Keeney (R, 2016). Thousands of similar images and hundreds of divestments haven’t crimped the coffers of Exxon and its oil brethren.

McKibben was admirably candid about wanting to “make clear who the real [climate] enemy is”: the fossil-fuel industry, led and epitomized by the oil-and-gas giant ExxonMobil. The eleven intervening years have cemented Exxon’s standing as Big Oil incarnate. Not only is Exxon the industry’s most technologically proficient and politically connected member, it’s the one that for decades sowed disinformation about climate change even as its own scientists advised management to fortify the company’s drilling platforms against rising seas.

Unsurprisingly, “Exxon Knew” ranks high among contemporary climate-protest slogans. And the company certainly merits every ounce of opprobrium directed at it. Divestment was a righteous idea, but it has proven futile.

Wake-Up Call

The Pioneer acquisition should be a wake-up call. If the wave of divestments over the past decade by universities, philanthropies and pension funds had genuinely dented oil industry prospects, Exxon’s stock wouldn’t have had the cachet to lure Pioneer into an all-stock purchase. Nor would Exxon have been able to pull off a Plan B of forking over $60 billion in cash. The ease of the acquisition puts the lie to divestment’s starve-and-shame paradigm intended to dry up dollars and discredit industry brands.

Permian Basin map from ExxonMobil Oct 11 news release.

Pressuring institutions to divest from fossil fuels never made much sense as a pro-climate strategy. Targeting any one oil company was never going to be able to restrain carbon emissions. No single company supplies more than a small slice of the world’s petroleum.

Indeed, as Bloomberg News reported last week, even with Pioneer, Exxon will account for only 15 percent of Permian Basin extraction and a far smaller share of world oil production — three or four percent, according to my calculations. At that modest scale, a hole in any one company’s finances would simply make room for others.

Divestment’s futility actually went deeper, though. In the oil business, access to capital markets matters hardly at all. Most of the time the industry is flush with cash. Just about everything it does — exploration, extraction, pipelining, refining, selling — is self-financing, paid for by the ceaseless ka-ching from sales of gasoline, diesel, jet fuel, bunker fuel and other petroleum products, not to mention natural (methane) gas, which in 2022 provided nearly three-fourths as much primary energy worldwide as petrol, according to BP’s 2023 Statistical Review of World Energy (covering 2022).

To be fair, divestment campaigning did appear to penetrate Exxon’s inner sanctum in 2021, when the activist hedge fund Engine No. 1 succeeded in electing three directors to ExxonMobil’s 13-person board. “Exxon’s Board Defeat Signals the Rise of Social-Good Activists,” trumpeted the New York Times headline reporting the surprise incursion. Yet the ideological impact, if there was one, was short-lived. All three insurgent members backed the Pioneer acquisition, the Wall Street Journal reported last week.

WSJ Oct 14 headline canonizing Exxon CEO Woods for his $60B Permian Basin play.

Indeed, in the Journal story, Charles Penner, architect of the Engine No. 1 campaign, says the Pioneer deal “shows Exxon had heard some of the campaign’s critiques and changed its approach to focus on returns instead of costly megaprojects more dependent on long-term demand.” Oof. The story has nothing from Engine No. 1 on Exxon’s present or future complicity in climate-damaging emissions generated from its products. And nothing in its detailed portrait of CEO Darren Woods suggests that worries about divestment ever cost him a moment’s sleep.

What To Do?

There are so many climate campaigns needing and deserving of the energies now squandered pursuing fossil-fuel divestment. I suggested a few of them in The Climate Movement In Its Own Way, my April 2022 article in The Nation (reposted here at CTC). Here’s a top-10 list (in no particular order):

  1. Policy campaigns to curb motor vehicle size and weight
  2. Organizing to expedite up-zoning in cities and suburbs and otherwise promote housing density
  3. Advancing walkable, bikeable and transit-oriented communities
  4. Restricting and overcoming NIMBY power to block wind farms and solar arrays
  5. Supporting the operability of existing, well-functioning nuclear power plants
  6. Advancing congestion pricing and other road-pricing / traffic-pricing proposals (valuable for themselves and as templates for broad carbon-emission pricing)
  7. Taxing extreme wealth, to both attack luxury emissions and promote social solidarity needed to tackle carbon consumption
  8. Shrinking the local, state and national reach of the world’s sole major climate-denying political party (whose dysfunction is currently in especially plain sight, as NY Times columnist Jamelle Bouie trenchantly documented this week)
  9. Reducing animal agriculture through both culture and policy change
  10. Advancing or at least keeping alive the idea of robust carbon pricing at the state and especially national level

Note that all of the above measures, except perhaps #8, attack carbon and other greenhouse gas emissions from the demand side, insulating them from the all-too-real whack-a-mole syndrome that undermines most supply-side climate campaigns due to global substitutability by which increased drilling “there” offsets halts to drilling “here.”

Missing from the list: abetting the electrification of cars, trucks, cooking, heating and industry. Why not? For one thing, “electrify everything” has no shortage of NGO advocates like Rewiring America, and, thanks to President Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act, it enjoys generous federal subsidies. For another, decarbonization of U.S. grids is far from complete and, in many states and regions, painfully slow.

Graphic and data curated by Isuru Seneviratne, Nuclear NY, Oct 2023.

Here in New York City, CTC’s home territory, fossil fuel burning today generates more than 90 percent of all electricity (see graphic from Nuclear NY), down from 70 percent since the 2020-2021 closure of the downstate grid’s only large-scale non-carbon generator, the Indian Point nuclear plant.

As a result, rarely if ever is the incremental electricity that my grid calls on to recharge EV’s or energize electric heat pumps generated from a non-carbon source. The same is true at present in much of the United States. Electrification, an essential long-term program, is not yet a carbon-eliminating panacea .

Want to hurt Exxon AND fight climate change? Work to bring robust carbon pricing back into the national policy conversation. A meaningful carbon price — one that quickly ramps up to triple digits per ton of CO2 — will crimp the oil business, the coal business and the fossil-gas business, harming the fossil fuel industry’s shareholder value and political power, while effectuating steady and significant reductions in combustion. And, when considering the to-do list above, keep in mind that robust carbon pricing (#10) enhances all of the others.

Addendum: Two days after posting, we learned that Chevron is acquiring oil giant Hess Corp. in another all-stock deal, this one valued at $53 billion.

Grounding Helicopter Luxury

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Extinction Rebellion takes on heliports in Manhattan during a week of climate action.

This post, written by renowned eco-journalist Christopher Ketcham and commissioned by and published in Truthdig on Sept. 15, describes an action I helped organize and participated in, two days earlier. We repost it here, with permission, because it highlights a rare climate protest that targets fossil fuel “demand” rather than supply. And not just ordinary fuel usage but an egregiously selfish and exclusive one: helicopter travel. 

“Helicopters are a pestilence to New Yorkers and a rotten pinnacle of an economic system that places decadent pleasure over planetary survival,” I declaimed in the XR press release. True externality pricing would shut down the vast majority of helicopter transportation. Absent, or alongside that, last week’s direct action was an attention-getting way of connecting the climate crisis to luxury emissions.

    — Charles Komanoff, Sept. 20, 2023.

* * * * * * * *

The Extinction Rebellionists mustered south of the heliport on the west side of Manhattan at around 2 p.m., just as the sun emerged following a flurry of rain. It was hot when the crowd of 40 people moved as one to stop the howling machines based at Blade Lounge West, a commercial heliport on 30th Street along the Hudson River Greenway. The outsized carbon footprint of those who used the heliport was “obscene,” said the organizers. The afternoon’s goal was to make as much trouble for its operations as possible.

One of the organizers of the action, a 75-year-old energy economist named Charles Komanoff, was prepared to be arrested. He told me he had been feeling unsteady that morning, jittery and fearful, as he handed me his rain slicker and water bottle and backpack to hold.

Months earlier, he had explained his reasons for wanting to shut down helicopter traffic in his native city. “New Yorkers hate helicopters,” Komanoff wrote in an email to Extinction Rebellionists:

Tourist helicopters, Hamptons helicopters…. They hate the noise, the fumes… the arrogance, the power to pollute, the power to act as lords. I hate them too, for those reasons, plus this: helicopters epitomize luxury carbon. They are the essence of the consumption that must disappear *now* if we aim to protect Earth and preserve climate.

Now, Komanoff and his fellow Rebellionists picketed at the vehicle entry to the Blade Lounge West, which is owned and operated by Blade Air Mobility, Inc. They unfurled a banner that said LIFE OR DEATH, and waved XR flags that whipped in the wind, and one pushed a stroller with three baby dolls in it, with a note that read, “Will we have enough food to eat? Can crops survive the heat?” They chanted Helicopters, private planes, your emissions are insane. (They are also profitable: Blade Air Mobility’s $61 million in revenue in 2023 was up 71% on the year.)

Komanoff and I had written an editorial together in 2022 about the absolute need to kill luxury emissions as the stuff of gluttony and entitlement. “‘Keep it in the ground’ protesters confine their blockades to energy supply infrastructure and studiously ignore the demand half of the equation,” we wrote. “This has been a shortcoming of the climate movement for too long, as it passes up one opportunity after another to rouse millions against the class that, even more than the corporations of Big Carbon, perpetuates the climate crisis: the world’s wealthy.”

The protest unfolded in the genteel way of these things. There were cyclists and joggers on the greenway, and tourists walking, and in the glint of the sun off the rippling water, many passersby stopped and asked what was happening.  Two elderly women wanted to participate.  One of the women, 72-year-old Mireille Haboucha, an Egyptian, told the protesters, “We agree with your action. This is what we all need to do.” The friend with whom she was strolling, Barbara Schroder, 75, told me, “We had never thought about luxury emissions, but it makes sense to stop it.”

I asked a 29-year-old lawyer named Dominique why she was there. It was her first climate action, and she asked that her last name not be used. “I’m morally obligated,” she told me.  In that feeling of obligation there was great anger. “There are 30 million people in Pakistan homeless because of floods that happened there a year ago. Thirty million that are homeless because people like the assholes we are seeing today need to take helicopters.”

Dominique was reminded of Hannah Arendt’s observation, in “Eichmann in Jerusalem,” a book about the Nuremberg Trials, that complacency seemed to be the main evil which allowed the Holocaust to happen — the world, and especially Germans, just not caring enough to stop the Nazis. “Part of the moral obligation for me is that we are on the brink of, are already in, mass climate genocide,” she told me. “I do not want to be the modern-day equivalent of a complacent 1930s German.”

The night before, at an XR body blockade training event in Brooklyn, a 56-year-old retired schoolteacher told me that, on her farm in Wallkill, in the Hudson Valley, the entire oat crop had failed. First there was drought, in April, then flooding in June.  That was one of many reasons she was at the heliport. She’d been arrested seven times since 2019 for similar actions.

The helicopter traffic did not cease, although the protesters succeeded in blockading the entrance to the parking lot. The CEO of Blade Air Mobility, Rob Wiesenthal, a dapper little man who makes $11.9 million a year, seemed shocked that his poor heliport had been targeted. The executive stood and watched the protesters with a look of despair on his face.  A chopper came blasting in, touching down with a monstrous flatus sound and carrying with it the stink of jet fuel.  Then another and another arrived, their disgorged passengers forced to cut through the crowd of flag wavers and shouters of chants to waiting mammoth SUV taxis that were blocking road traffic because they couldn’t enter the parking lot. (Climate action should involve stopping the SUVs, too, I thought to myself.)

I screamed a question to Wiesenthal over the racket. He smiled and said he had nothing to say to the media on the record. His employees were enraged.  One of them got in a scuffle with a press photographer on hand for the event, trying to grab his camera, cursing and threatening him.  A scowling heliport attendant named Anthony Smith told me, “I called my boys from uptown and they’re gonna take care of this real quick. You’ll see.”

The skies cleared fully, and the sun blazed down, and the protesters knitted their sweaty brows in the heat. Still they picketed and chanted and sang and hurled slogans. A National Guard helicopter, enormous and looking like a black metal buzzard, swooped in, bathing us in poisonous fumes. “Those your boys?” I asked Smith.  “Oh yeah,” he said.  But the black chopper touched the tarmac for less than a minute, then powered up again and was gone in a fury of rotor wash and noise. More helicopters came, Hueys from JFK Airport ($225 one way) and Newark International ($245) and the Hamptons ($1,025).

After an hour and a half, 40 or so officers from the New York Police Department’s Strategic Response Group arrived bristling with zip ties. Warnings were issued to cease blocking the way, and some of the protesters — the green and yellow teams, as they were called — stepped aside. The red team, which included Komanoff, a 75-year-old woman named Alice, a 60-year-old woman named Heidi, a third woman, Shoshana, and two young men — stood firm, for their intent was to be arrested in symbolic revolt. The cops turned them around, zip-tied their wrists and off they went in a cramped police van. The protesters dispersed. Wiesenthal breathed relief. His faithful employees bumped fists.

What was accomplished? Morale-boosting, the fostering of solidarity and sense of unity of purpose; the building of a community, ready for more action. When the six arrestees were released from the 7th Precinct, they were smiling and proud, and a group of fellow protesters was waiting for them at a nearby restaurant and filled the place with wild applause as they entered. My thought was this crowd needs to gather on a daily basis at West 30th Street. Pain should be felt over and over at Blade Lounge West until its operations become untenable, until Mr. Wiesenthal’s despair is permanent. It’s either that, or what some in the movement say is the next needed step: monkeywrench the choppers and destroy them on the tarmac.

NYC Climate March: Unsettling but Inspiring

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Sunday’s March to End Fossil Fuels in midtown Manhattan was big, loud and vibrant. The organizers put the tally at 75,000. While that may have been over-generous, the march was far and away the largest U.S. climate assemblage in some time.

It was also an occasion to ponder the goals and tactics of the climate movement.

The customary signs and chants denouncing Big Oil and its funder banks were out in force. What felt new, and unsettling, was the vitriol directed at President Biden. Last year’s passage of the Inflation Reduction Act, with its promise to hasten the transition from fossil fuels by accelerating wind and solar and electrification, might as well have been an hallucination.

This photo by Sarah Blesener ran above the fold in the New York Times’ print edition the next day. The paper’s online caption caught the focus of the march: “Protest organizers used Sunday’s event to send a message to President Biden as he begins his push for re-election: Do more if you want our votes.”

Ganging Up On Joe

The signs and chants castigating the president flowed like a river. Biden: Declare a climate emergency … Cancel Willow … I didn’t vote for fires and floods.

Yikes. Whatever happened to the Inflation Reduction Act’s nearly half-a-trillion dollars worth of tax credits and other subsidies paying down the cost of renewable electricity from solar and wind farms while also cutting consumer costs to purchase electric vehicles, electric heat pumps, and home and commercial electric battery storage?

The intent of the IRA’s myriad and synergistic incentives isn’t just to grow the U.S. green manufacturing base with good-paying green jobs. It’s to displace fossil-fuel use by retiring petrol-fueled engines and furnaces and simultaneously “greening the grid” by speeding the rate at which wind and solar power usurp electricity generation from coal and methane gas.

As the IRA was snaking through Congress last August, energy analysts were scoping the potential carbon and methane reductions from those displacements, along with estimates of increased emissions from new federal oil and gas leasing that Biden committed to expedite to win the tie-breaking Yes vote from West Virginia Senator Joe Manchin. One leading think tank, Energy Innovation, concluded that “The bill’s clean energy measures will yield 24 times more emissions reductions than its fossil fuel provisions will increase emissions.” (The firm subsequently raised its 24-to-1 emissions ratio to 28-to-1.)

Seven months later, Biden held up his end of the deal, issuing a permit okaying ConocoPhillips’ $6 billion Willow oil-and-gas drilling venture on Alaska’s North Slope — and threw away the climate good will due him from the IRA. Never mind that the additional carbon emissions from the Biden-Willow “hydrocarbon bomb” will only negate a fraction of the emission reductions from his legislation’s clean electricity and end-use electrification, as I pointed out back in March. Even more poignantly, those additional emissions are more properly estimated to be close to zero. Why? Because what actually burns the carbon fuels and puts the CO2 into the atmosphere is fossil fuel consumption, not supply. If Biden had rejected Willow, the same supply would have been called forth from Nigeria, or Kuwait or some other oil region or state to fill U.S. cars, planes and trucks.

In other words, Willow or any new U.S. drilling activity is nearly irrelevant from a climate standpoint because, as we wrote then, “demand finds a way to create supply,” rather than the reverse.

As we marched, I asked a smattering of anti-Biden sign-holders if the president merited praise for the green energy unleashed by his IRA, rather than criticism for okaying Willow or the other contentious project, the Mountain Valley Pipeline through West Virginia. The typical response was No, we’re in a climate emergency. Any new fossil-fuel infrastructure is too much.

To be sure, trade-offs are hard to wrestle with even in calm moments, much less among a big crowd on the move. But the blank stares about the IRA and occasional flashes of venom against Biden were disquieting, nonetheless. The Times‘ headline for its print report on the march was all too accurate: “Fingers Pointed at President, Protesters Demand End to Fossil Fuels.” Left unsaid is whether protesting Biden climate bombs will seed electoral bombs in 2024, placing our democracy as well as climate in irredeemable peril.

Who’s Really Funding Fossil Fuels?

If the anti-Biden sentiment was novel, the anti-big banks rhetoric was old hat. Blaming the climate crisis on Big Oil and demanding that universities, pension funds and the like “divest” by dumping fossil fuel securities from their holdings, has been a staple of climate organizing for nearly a dozen years, as I decried a year-and-a-half ago, in Exxon doesn’t care if you divest. Neither does climate:

When the writer and climate activist Bill McKibben kicked off the [divestment] campaign in a July 2012 Rolling Stone article, Global Warming’s Terrifying New Math, the rationale was three-fold: (1) dry up capital and make it harder for the fossil fuel industry to create new mines, wells, pipelines and terminals; (2) weaken the industry’s social and political standing so it couldn’t easily block pro-climate policy; and (3) by hanging a “Dump Me” sign around Big Oil, amp up climate organizing. Not for nothing did McKibben subtitle his Rolling Stone article, “Make clear who the real enemy is.” It was Exxon and its brethren.

A climate marcher with Third Act helpfully displayed the biggest U.S. banks’ fossil-fuel financing over the past seven years.

That path has proven to be a dead-end, I concluded in my post. One piece of evidence was a simple graph showing that Exxon-Mobil’s share price had outperformed the stock market as a whole since the onset of the Covid pandemic. More evidence, if any were needed, was available in the wonderfully wonky signboard at left that was borne by one of yesterday’s marchers, a vibrant senior citizen affiliated with the McKibben-inspired Third Act.

The amounts that the four banks — Chase, Citi, Bank of America, and Wells Fargo — have funneled into fossil fuels since the start of 2016 sum to an impressive-seeming $1.27 trillion ($1,270,000,000,000). Yet over the same period, consumption of petroleum products by U.S. families and businesses earned the oil companies a revenue haul nearly three-and-a-half times as great: an estimated $4.29 trillion ($4,290,000,000,000).

[I calculated that figure from the average 19.9 million barrels per day of gasoline, diesel fuel, jet fuel and other petroleum products  kerosene and so forth consumed per day over the same seven years, 2016-2022. (See Energy Information Administration, Monthly Energy Review, Table 3.5 Petroleum Products Supplied by Type.) Factoring in (1) there are 42 gallons of petrol per barrel, (2) the seven years total 2,555 days (365 x 7), and 3) an average retail price per gallon sold of $2.00 — a conservative markdown from the actual $2.82 average retail price of gasoline over that period — yields $4.29 trillion.]

Who’s really funding fossil fuels? American households, businesses and institutions, locked into grotesque consumption levels that U.S. climate activists studiously ignore.

To be sure, my dollar comparison has apples-and-oranges elements. Only some of the $4 trillion or more in petrol sales is available for investment in exploration and other petroleum infrastructure. And other banks beyond the Big Four also fund oil investment. On the other hand, U.S. consumption of methane gas and coal fossil fuels now exceeds consumption of petroleum on a Btu basis by 20 percent, suggesting that total fossil fuel revenues over the past six years was probably in the vicinity of $8 billion rather than the $4.3 billion from petroleum products alone.

My point is that bank financing is a much weaker linchpin for creating new fossil fuel infrastructure than most climate activists suppose. What really makes fossil supply possible is the lock-in of consumption of fossil fuels themselves, in billions of routine purchases that, day in and day out, fork over many more dollars to the fossil fuel industry than do the banks.

(Owens was responding to a Cameron Murray, PhD, who was decrying the idea of asking Americans to take some responsibility for their personal carbon footprint.)

Or, as Darrell Owens, an analyst with CA YIMBY (Yes In My Back Yard), the pro-housing group that has spearheaded the recent revolution of expansionary zoning in California, put it recently on Twitter, “Oil drilling [and such] isn’t for fun, it’s in service of carbon intensive demand that can be stopped.” Stopped how? By undoing automobile dependence, incentivizing smaller vehicles, densifying suburbia, introducing congestion and road pricing, and of course, federal-level carbon taxing, as I detailed last year for The Nation magazine (The Climate Movement In Its Own Way).

Uprooting the Source: Carbon Consumption

Happily, some at Sunday’s march saw past Biden and the banks and critiqued the structures of consumption that enforce dependence on fossil fuels, whether directly at the gas pump or the furnace or stove, or indirectly in purchases of products whose manufacture and transportation entail massive quantities of fuel, or in inefficient or indulgent use of electricity, most of which is still made by burning coal or methane gas.

These included stalwarts from Citizens Climate Lobby, including an enthusiastic contingent from Pittsburgh as well as folks from across the Northeast; and individuals whose handcrafted signs called out U.S. car culture not only for its gasoline profligacy but for its stifling of human life and health.

Some marchers saw beyond Biden and bankers to demand enduring solutions: carbon fee-and-dividend and liberation from automobiles.

“Tax Pollution, Pay People” packs so much into four words, I said to the sign-holder, a CCL member from Pittsburgh,  who told me his name, which I failed to write down. When I told him mine, he nearly jumped out of his shoes and shouted it to his fellow CCL’ers as if I was Greta Thunberg and Steelers legend Franco Harris rolled into one.

I started to apologize for CTC’s relative quiescence over the past year or two and to explain that I’ve been consumed with helping get NYC’s congestion pricing plan across the goal line. He stopped me short, thanking me for CTC’s work and insisting that, together, we’ll win a nationwide price on carbon before it’s too late.

So there’s my take. Singling out Biden for attack felt excessive and worrisome, since any falloff in enthusiasm will crimp the chances of small-d democratic, climate-aware outcomes in the elections next year. Similarly, more than a decade’s worth of targeting Big Oil and the banks doesn’t appear to have moved the needle for effective climate policy. Going after “luxury carbon,” as Extinction Rebellion did in a small but resonant climate action last week that I helped organize, feels to me like a more empowering path, one that might capture both the populist moment and climate urgency in a single stroke.

But notwithstanding the mis-directions, it was uplifting to be amidst tens of thousands with a like mind: A better world is possible. A better world is necessary. I want a fossil-free president. Amen to that!