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Vox
5 days ago
- Business
- Vox
Why your energy bill is suddenly so much more expensive
is a correspondent at Vox writing about climate change, energy policy, and science. He is also a regular contributor to the radio program Science Friday. Prior to Vox, he was a reporter for ClimateWire at E&E News. Americans are paying more for electricity, and those prices are set to rise even further. 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 (EIA). Energy Information Administration 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. Related The hidden reason why your power bill is so high 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up for decades as well, and now the bills are due: Aging and inadequate infrastructure needs replacement, while outdated business models and regulations are slowing the deployment of urgently needed upgrades.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 US, said this week that soaring demand for electricity and delays in building new generators will raise power bills 1 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. 'It is the poles and wires that make up our electric infrastructure that's increasing in cost particularly rapidly.' — Charles Hua, founder and executive director of PowerLines 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 US is experiencing a sustained increase in electricity use driven in part by a rapid buildout 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 powerline 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. Today, Explained Understand the world with a daily explainer, plus the most compelling stories of the day. Email (required) Sign Up By submitting your email, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Notice . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. 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 US 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.'
Vox
15-07-2025
- Politics
- Vox
Why it's taking LA so long to rebuild
is a correspondent at Vox writing about climate change, energy policy, and science. He is also a regular contributor to the radio program Science Friday. Prior to Vox, he was a reporter for ClimateWire at E&E News. Sisters Emilee and Natalee De Santiago sit together on the front porch of what remains of their home on January 19, 2025, in Altadena, the wake of the record-breaking wildfires in Los Angeles in January — some of the most expensive and destructive blazes in history — one of the first things California Gov. Gavin Newsom did was to sign an executive order suspending environmental rules around rebuilding. The idea was that by waiving permitting regulations and reviews under the California Coastal Act and the California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA), homeowners and builders could start cleaning up, putting up walls, and getting people back into houses faster. But that raised a key question for housing advocates: Could California do something similar for the whole state? Earlier this month, Newsom took a step in that direction, signing two bills that would exempt most urban housing from environmental reviews and make it easier for cities to increase housing by changing zoning laws. Newsom also signed another executive order that suspends some local permitting laws and building codes for fire-afflicted communities with the aim of further speeding up reconstruction. Los Angeles is a critical case study for housing for the whole state, a test of whether the Democratic-controlled government can coordinate its conflicting political bases — unions, environmental groups, housing advocates — with a desperate need for more homes. Revising the state's environmental laws was seen by some observers as a sign that the Golden State was finally seeing the light. Related California just showed that a better Democratic Party is possible But despite the relaxed rules, progress in LA has been sluggish. More than 800 homeowners in areas affected by wildfires applied for rebuilding permits as of July 7, according to the Los Angeles Times. Fewer than 200 have received the green light, however. The City of Los Angeles takes about 55 days on average to approve a wildfire rebuild, and the broader Los Angeles County takes even longer. (Los Angeles County has a dashboard to track permitting approvals in unincorporated areas.) 'LA's process is super slow, so that's not surprising,' said Elisa Paster, a managing partner at Rand Paster Nelson based in Los Angeles and specializing in land use law. 'Anecdotally, we've heard that a lot of people have decided they don't want to go through the process of rebuilding in LA because it is quite onerous.' Now, half a year out after the embers have died down, it's clear that changing the rules isn't enough. Advocates for CEQA say the 55-year-old law is really a scapegoat for bigger, more intractable housing problems. Other factors, like more expensive construction materials and labor shortages, are still driving up housing construction costs, regardless of permitting speeds. And some environmental groups worry that the rush to rebuild everything as it was could recreate the conditions that led to the blazes in the first place, a dangerous prospect in an area where wildfire risks are only growing. How CEQA reforms can and can't help communities harmed by wildfires CEQA is one of California's tentpole environmental laws, signed by then-Gov. Ronald Reagan in 1970. It requires that state and local governments preemptively look for any potential environmental harms from a construction project, like water pollution, threats to endangered species, and later, greenhouse gas emissions. Developers need to disclose these issues and take steps to avoid them. The law also allows the public to weigh in on new developments. In the years since, CEQA has been blamed as a barrier to new construction. Many critics see it as a cynical tool wielded to prevent new housing construction in wealthy communities, even being invoked to challenge highway closures and new parks on environmental grounds. It's one of the villains of the 'abundance' movement that advocates for cutting red tape to build more homes and clean energy. However, CEQA isn't necessarily the gatekeeper to rebuilding single-family homes after wildfires, according to Matthew Baker, policy director at Planning and Conservation League, a nonprofit that helped shepherd CEQA in the first place. For one thing, CEQA already has broad exemptions for replacing and rebuilding structures and new construction of 'small' structures like single-family homes. 'Our general take is that the executive orders around revoking environmental review and environmental regulations around the rebuilding [after the fires] did little to nothing beyond what was already in existing law,' Baker said. He added that the vast majority of projects that face CEQA review get the go-ahead, and less than 2 percent of proposals face litigation. An aerial view shows homes burned in the Eaton Fire on February 5, 2025, in Altadena, the mere threat of a lawsuit and the precautions to avoid one can become a significant hurdle on its own. 'CEQA can be an expensive and lengthy process, especially for large or complicated projects. This is true even if there is not litigation,' according to a 2024 report from California's Little Hoover Commission, the state's independent oversight agency. 'Preparation of an Environmental Impact Report under CEQA can take a year or longer and cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, or even, in some cases, more than $1 million.' In addition, CEQA does come into play for people who want to make more extensive changes to their property as they rebuild, like if they want to expand their floorspace more than 10 percent beyond their original floor plan. The law is also triggered by broader wildfire risk reduction initiatives, namely brush clearance and controlled burns, as well as infrastructure upgrades like putting power lines underground to prevent fire ignitions or installing more pipelines and cisterns for water to help with firefighting. Exempting these projects could help communities build fire resilience faster. For multifamily homes like duplexes and apartment buildings, CEQA can be an obstacle, too, if the developer wants to rebuild with more units. 'We have multifamily buildings in the Palisades that had rent-controlled units, and what we've been hearing from some of these property owners is like, 'Yeah, sure. I had 20 rent-controlled units there before, but I can't afford to just rebuild 20.' Those people want to go back and build 50 units, 20 of which could be rent-controlled, or all of which are rent-controlled.' By bypassing CEQA, higher-density housing has an easier path to completion. Environmental regulations aren't the only barriers to rebuilding Rebuilding after fires is always going to be expensive. Your home may have been built and sold in the 1970s, but you'll have to pay 2025 prices for materials and labor when you rebuild. California already faces some of the highest housing costs in the country and a shortage of construction workers. The Trump administration is pushing the price tag higher with tariffs on components like lumber and its campaign to deport people. About 41 percent of workers in California's construction industry are immigrants, and 14 percent are undocumented. But even before they can rebuild, one of the biggest challenges for people who have lost their homes is simply becoming whole after a loss. 'From the clients that I've spoken to, they've had to argue with their insurance company to get full replacement value or reasonable compensation, and that's where they're getting stuck,' said David Hertz, an architect based in Santa Monica. On top of the tedious claims process, insurance companies in California have been dropping some of their customers in high fire-risk areas, leaving them no option besides the FAIR Plan, the state's high-priced, limited-coverage insurer of last resort. But after the multibillion-dollar losses from the Los Angeles fires, the FAIR Plan had to collect an additional $1 billion from its member companies, a move that will raise property insurance prices. People who can't get property insurance can't get a mortgage from most lenders. There's also the concern of exactly where and how homes are rebuilt. In 2008, California updated its building codes to make structures more resistant to wildfires, but bringing burned-down old homes to new standards in high fire risk areas adds to the timeline and the price tag. 'There's this tension between all of us wanting to have people be able to rebuild their homes in their communities, and there's the question of 'Are we just going to build back the same thing in the same unsafe place? Are we going to try to do things better?' Baker said. All the while, wildfires are becoming more destructive. Wildfires are a natural part of Southern California's landscape, but more people are crowding into areas that are primed to burn, and the danger zones are widening. That increases the chances of a wildfire ignition and makes the ensuing blazes more damaging. With average temperatures rising, California is seeing more aggressive swings between severe rainfall and drought. The 2025 Los Angeles fires were preceded in 2024 by one of the wettest winters in the region's history, followed by one of the hottest summers on record, and bookended by one of the driest starts to winter. It created the ideal conditions for ample dry grasses and chaparral that fueled the infernos. Related 5 approaches that experts say are our best shot at surviving future wildfires 'The question is, how does one really exist within a natural system that's designed to burn?' Hertz said. Reducing wildfire risk on a wider scale requires coordination between neighbors. For example, Hertz said that in many of the communities that burned, there are likely many residents who won't come back. Neighbors could coordinate to buy up and swap vacant land parcels to create a defensible space with fire-resistant trees like oak to serve as fire breaks and water storage to help respond to future blazes. Hertz himself leads a community brigade, trained volunteers who work to reduce wildfire risk in their neighborhoods. He also cautioned that while there's a lot of well-deserved pushback against regulations like CEQA, the reasoning behind it remains sound. Development without any environmental considerations could put more homes in the path of danger and destroy the ecosystems that make California such an attractive place to live. 'I think there's a balance,' Hertz said. 'Nature doesn't have its own voice.' At the same time, without speeding up the pace at which California restores the homes that were lost and builds new ones, the housing crisis will only get worse. The state will become unlivable for many residents. Long after the burn scars fade and new facades are erected, communities will be altered permanently.
Vox
07-07-2025
- Climate
- Vox
Why were the central Texas floods so deadly?
is a correspondent at Vox writing about climate change, energy policy, and science. He is also a regular contributor to the radio program Science Friday. Prior to Vox, he was a reporter for ClimateWire at E&E News. At least 90 people have died in central Texas in extraordinary floods, the deadliest in the Lone Star State since Hurricane Harvey killed 89 people. A torrential downpour started off the July 4 weekend with several months' worth of rain falling in a few hours, lifting water levels in the Guadalupe River as high as 22 feet. Among the dead are 27 children and counselors at a summer camp near Kerrville in Kerr County. One adult at the camp may have died trying to rescue children. More people are still missing, and more rain is in the forecast. The storm arose from the fading remnants of Tropical Storm Barry, which formed on June 28. It was well ahead of schedule for the typical second named storm of the Atlantic hurricane season, which usually forms in mid-July. The weather system parked over Texas where it converged with a band of moisture moving north, forming thunderstorms that squeezed out a torrential downpour. With its topography of hills and rivers as well as a history of sudden downpours, this region in Texas has been dubbed 'flash flood alley.' Kerrville itself experienced a deadly flood in 1987 when the Guadalupe River received 11 inches of rain in less than five hours, raising water in some portions by 29 feet. The flood killed 10 people. But there were several factors that converged to make this storm so deadly — and not all of them had to do with the sheer amount of rain. Here are some things to know about disasters like this: Texas isn't in the tropics. How did it get hit so hard by a tropical storm? Kerr County, population 54,000, is a couple hundred miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico, but it has a history of tropical storms and hurricanes passing through the region on occasion. So the leftovers from Tropical Storm Barry reaching the area isn't too surprising. Scientists, however, are still trying to find out how storms that are powered by warm ocean water continue to get energy over land. As average temperatures rise due to climate change, air can retain more moisture, which means when storms occur, there's more water falling out of the sky, turning roads into rivers and submerging the landscape. Did something go wrong here with the forecast or disaster warnings? Ahead of the Texas floods, the Texas Division of Emergency Management activated its emergency response system on July 2 in anticipation of major floods, including mobilizing water rescue squads, helicopters, and road-clearing equipment. On July 3, the National Weather Service issued a flood watch. (NPR has a very useful timeline of the planning and response to the floods.) But as the watches turned to warnings, they revealed gaps in the communication system. There are spots along the Guadalupe River that don't have flood warning sirens, including Kerr County. Officials there contemplated installing a flood warning system, but it was rejected for being too expensive. Text message alerts did go out, but they were sent in the middle of the night after the July Fourth holiday, when many people were camping or traveling in unfamiliar places. Parts of the county also have spotty cell service. And residents who did get the alerts weren't sure what to do about them, whether to stay or evacuate, until the water levels were perilously high. The National Weather Service this year has lost 600 employees between layoffs, buyouts, and retirements spurred by the Trump administration's 'Department of Government Efficiency.' That included Paul Yura, the warning coordination meteorologist at the National Weather Service Austin/San Antonio office, which is responsible for Kerr County. However, National Weather Service staff said the office was operating normally during the floods and wasn't dealing with a staff shortage. In general, natural disasters are killing fewer people over time. There are a lot of reasons why, like stronger building codes that can better resist fires, floods, and earthquakes. One of the most important lifesaving trends is better warning systems ahead of huge storms. Improvements in observations, a growing understanding of the underlying physics, and advances in computer modeling have led forecasters to build up their lead time ahead of severe weather. Researchers are even starting to get more forewarnings about volcanic eruptions and earthquakes. But warnings are only effective if people have the knowledge and the tools to react to them. During floods, people often underestimate currents and try to cross dangerous submerged areas. 'Purposely driving or walking into floodwaters accounts for more than 86% of total flood fatalities,' according to a study of flood deaths in the US between 1959 and 2019. It is possible to protect lives against the forces of nature, but it requires a lot of parts working together — planning, infrastructure, forecasting, alerts, and evacuations. Are floods getting more difficult to predict? Not necessarily, but the baselines are changing. Most assessments of flood risk are based on historical data. Local, state, and federal agencies can map out high watermarks of the past and show which properties might be at the greatest risk. But at best, these maps are conservative estimates; they don't show the full potential of where water can reach. Often, flood maps aren't revised regularly and don't take into account how the risk landscape is changing. For instance, more construction in an area can lead to more impervious surfaces that retain water or shunt it toward a certain neighborhood. Losing natural watersheds that normally soak up rain can increase the probability of floods. Overdrawing groundwater can cause land to sink. In coastal areas, rising sea levels are increasing the reach of coastal flooding, while rainstorms inland are pouring out more water. Disasters can also compound each other. A major wildfire can wipe out trees and grasses anchoring soil, leading to floods and landslides when the rain comes, for example. Inflation, growing populations, and rising property values mean that when floods do occur, they extract a much bigger price from the economy. Kerr County's population has grown about 25 percent since 2000. As a result, when it comes to floods, many people don't even realize that they're at risk. And even in the wake of a major inundation, the lessons are quickly forgotten. One analysis showed that people buy more flood insurance after a major flood recedes, but gradually, they let their policies lapse, returning to the baseline insurance rate in three years in some cases. That's why one of the biggest challenges in disaster risk reduction is simply trying to get people to understand that bad things can happen to them and they should prepare.
Vox
01-07-2025
- Health
- Vox
Meet the Oropouche virus. It may be visiting your city soon.
is a correspondent at Vox writing about climate change, energy policy, and science. He is also a regular contributor to the radio program Science Friday. Prior to Vox, he was a reporter for ClimateWire at E&E News. Oropouche virus disease was a relatively rare illness for decades, lurking on the margins of tropical rainforests in the Caribbean and South America. Sporadic reports of an infection causing fevers, coughs, chills, and body aches emerged among people living near or moving into the jungle. A tiny insect called a midge spreads the disease, and the earliest known case dates back to 1955 in a forest worker near a village called Vega de Oropouche in Trinidad. Since most people who were infected with the virus recovered on their own and since cases were so infrequent, it barely registered as a public health concern. But a few years ago, something changed. A major Oropouche fever outbreak beginning in 2023 infected at least 23,000 people across Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, and Peru. It wasn't just confined to remote wilderness areas but was spreading in metropolises like Rio de Janeiro. In some cases, travelers were infected and then brought the virus home: So far, Oropouche fever has sprung up in the US, Canada, and Europe in people returning from the afflicted region. The outbreak has killed at least five people. The sudden rise of Oropouche disease startled scientists and health officials. Since its discovery, there have only been around 500,000 known cases. By contrast, there are upwards of 400 million dengue infections each year. It's likely then that many more Oropouche infections have gone undetected, especially since its symptoms overlap with those from other diseases and there's little active screening for the virus. What you'll learn from this story What Oropouche fever is, how you can identify is and what spreads the disease. What researchers know about the startling outbreak across South American in 2023 and 2024. The threat the disease's spread poses to the United States. Now, researchers are looking back at the outbreak to try to find out what they missed and what lessons they can apply to get ahead of future epidemics. Oropouche virus is a critical case study in the complicated factors that drive vector-borne diseases. Dynamics like deforestation, urban sprawl, international travel, and gaps in surveillance are converging to drive up the dangers from infections spread by animals. And as the climate changes, new regions are becoming more hospitable to the blood suckers that spread these diseases, increasing the chances of these seemingly-remote infections making it to the US and getting established. That means more people will face threats from illnesses that they may never have considered before. 'It's very likely that these public health problems that people before called 'tropical disease' are not so tropical anymore and are basically everywhere,' said William de Souza, who studies arboviruses — viruses spread by arthropods like insects — at the University of Kentucky. 'Vector-borne disease is not a local problem; this is a global problem.' The rising specter of Oropouche fever comes at a time when the United States is cutting funding for research at universities, pulling back from studying vector-borne disease threats, and ending collaborations with other countries to limit their risk. The Oropouche virus is a classic case study in how humans worsen vector-borne disease The Oropouche virus belongs to the family of bunyaviruses. They appear as spheres under a microscope, and they encode their genomes in RNA, rather than DNA as human cells do. RNA viruses tend to have high mutation rates, making it harder to target them with vaccines and increasing the odds of reinfection. Oropuche's relatives include the viruses behind Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever, spread by ticks, and Rift Valley fever, spread by mosquitoes. Oropouche spreads mainly through the bites of a 1- to 3-millimeter-long insect called, appropriately, a biting midge (Culicoides paraensis). Midges are sometimes called sand flies or no-see-ums in the US, and they breed in damp soil, rotting vegetation, and standing water. Like mosquitoes, they feed on blood to drive their reproduction, but their minuscule bodies can easily slip through mosquito nets. When a midge bites an infected host, it can pass on the pathogen to a human during a subsequent bite. There's also evidence that the virus may be sexually transmissible, but no such cases have been documented yet. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends that male travelers from regions where Oropouche is spreading should not have sex for six weeks if they show symptoms of the disease. Vector-borne diseases like Oropouche continue to surprise us because there are so many variables that have to align in order to spread them — the pathogens, the vectors, the hosts, and the environment. Unlike diseases like Covid-19 or influenza, vector-borne illnesses don't spread directly from person to person. Instead, they require an animal, often arthropods like ticks, midges, and mosquitoes. The range, reproduction, and behavior of these organisms add another confounding factor in the spread of the diseases they carry. Globally, vector-borne diseases account for 17 percent of infectious diseases, leading to more than 700,000 deaths per year, according to the World Health Organization. But not every part of the world is equally vulnerable. In cooler regions, vector-borne infections are often a minor public health concern, but in countries like Brazil, 'it's at the top,' said Tatiane Moraes de Sousa, a researcher at the Oswaldo Cruz Foundation (Fiocruz) in Rio de Janeiro. 'Oropouche before 2024 was concentrated just in the Amazon. Last year, we saw the spreading of Oropuche in almost all Brazilian states.' That gets to the first obstacle in tracking Oropouche: Which animals are the reservoirs for the virus and where are they? So far, researchers have detected the virus in animals including sloths, capuchin monkeys, marmosets, domestic birds, and rodents. These organisms form what's known as the sylvatic, or forest, cycle of the virus. How the virus jumps between all these animals and which ones are most concerning for people is not known. Additionally, it may be possible that other insects may be able to carry the Oropouche virus, but it's not clear whether they can spread it to humans. The pattern that does emerge is that when people spend more time inside and around the fringes of tropical rainforests, where the animals that harbor the virus and the insects that spread them reside, they're more likely to get infected. With deforestation and development, more people are moving into areas where the disease naturally spreads. 'This is a classical example of how human behavior can lead to the emergence of a pathogen,' said Natasha Tilston, who studies Oropouche virus at the Indiana University School of Medicine. An aerial view of a logging yard in the Amazon rainforest. Tarcisio Schnaider via Getty Images People can travel great distances, and as people move back and forth from the wilderness to cities, they can unwittingly carry viruses like Oropouche. If enough of them gather in cities where vectors are present, they can trigger an urban epidemic cycle as the virus travels from person to midge to person. This was likely the pattern in the 2023–24 outbreak in major cities in South America. It's also true that more health workers were on guard for Oropouche and thus identified more infections. 'The outbreak is probably a combination of one, there are more cases, and two, we're also looking for a lot more than we did before,' Tilston said, noting that some past outbreaks of dengue may have actually been Oropouche as well. What set off the outbreak? One factor is that the virus likely evolved. Viruses mutate all the time, and most mutations are either inconsequential or detrimental to the virus, slowing or stopping its reproduction. But occasionally, a change can confer an advantage or make the pathogen more destructive. The Oropouche virus has a genome structure that makes it even more prone to a type of mutation called reassortment. 'Reassortment is when you have two similar viruses infect the same cell and they mix genomes,' explained University of Kentucky's de Souza. 'People previously infected by the old virus are now susceptible to new infection. This could help explain why the Amazon region, where this has been circulated for a long time, saw this emerge, because people were probably reinfected.' The strain behind the outbreak appears to reproduce faster and cause more severe illness than prior varieties as well. Part of the reason this outbreak racked up so many infected people is that health officials were starting to deploy the tools to identify on a wider scale. Particularly in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, more health departments across the region built up their tools to detect viruses. But researchers still aren't sure exactly what spurred the virus to spread so suddenly across so many countries. Travel restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic started relaxing in 2023 and made it easier for people to move back and forth from the rural areas where the virus is endemic to the cities where it became established. The 2023 to 2024 outbreak also coincided with a powerful El Niño event that brought gargantuan amounts of rain and triggered unprecedented flooding across many parts of South America. These were also years that set new temperature records. Higher temperatures can speed up the reproduction of the virus inside midges. But scientists aren't exactly sure how this heat and water affected the vectors, though Brazil has seen outbreaks of other infectious diseases in the aftermath of floods. 'El Niño and other climate phenomena have been associated with the change of the patterns of many different vector-borne diseases,' de Souza said. 'For Oropouche specifically, we don't have the answers yet, but the likelihood of impact is very high.' On top of all this, there aren't any specific ways to keep an outbreak in check once it ignites. There are no vaccines or treatments for Oropouche fever yet. So when all the factors align to spread the disease, there isn't much people can do to target the disease, and when it reaches a new area, there aren't as many people with immunity and few health workers who know what they're dealing with. A health worker fumigates against the Aedes aegypti mosquito, a vector of the dengue, zika and Chikungunya viruses in Minas Gerais, Brazil, in 2024, as the country faced a substantial increase in dengue fever cases. The mosquito species has also been identified as a potential spreader of Oropouche virus, though plays a minor role compared to the biting midge. Douglas Magno, AFP via Getty Images How the US is preparing for diseases like the Oropouche virus Fortunately, the Oropouche outbreak has died down, but a variety of infections are gaining a toehold in new places as infected people travel and as vectors move into new habitats, and the US is increasingly vulnerable. According to the CDC, the number of vector-borne disease cases per year has doubled in the US since 2001. Last year, the US saw transmission of mosquito-borne diseases like Eastern equine encephalitis and West Nile virus. Malaria, a disease once eradicated across the country, saw the first local infections in 20 years in 2023 in Florida and Texas. Vectors like the Asian tiger mosquito are spreading further north as the climate changes and expands favorable conditions for its survival. With travelers moving back and forth from regions where diseases are endemic, many will unwittingly bring back dangerous souvenirs, whether a stowaway insect in their luggage or an infection in their blood. And with midges, mosquitoes, and ticks spreading to new regions, dangerous pathogens are extending their reach. There are ways to slow the spread of these diseases, however, and the US has managed to do so before. The US famously launched a successful campaign to eradicate malaria within its borders. The first step is to simply acknowledge the threat. As Oropouche showed, there may be diseases lurking closer than we realized that we simply haven't bothered to look for. It's fairly simple to do things like dump standing water where insects can breed or spray insecticides on midge breeding grounds. But some places are getting creative, working to build up habitats for fish, bats, birds, and dragonflies that are natural predators of mosquitoes and midges to limit their spread. Limiting the destruction and development in wilderness areas can reduce the likelihood of diseases spilling over from animals into humans. Some regions are looking at even more drastic ways to stymie vectors. One measure that's gaining traction is deploying sterile male mosquitoes. When they mate, they produce eggs that won't hatch, thus reducing the population of the insect. Brazil recently inaugurated a factory that breeds mosquitoes to carry a bacterium known as Wolbachia that prevents the mosquitoes from reproducing easily, slowing the viruses that cause dengue, Zika, and chikungunya, a disease that can cause fever and joint pain, now established in the Americas. Hawaii is using these mosquitoes to arrest the spread of avian malaria. Vaccines and treatments are critical tools for addressing the diseases directly. Many pathogens can be controlled with these measures, but because they more commonly spread in poorer countries, there is less investment in containing them. Many vector-borne diseases like Oropouche are considered 'neglected,' and so when they do spread beyond their typical range, there isn't much available to help those who get sick. But the growing burden of these diseases demands a new generation of tools that can target multiple threats. 'We are seeing so many outbreaks that we need broad vaccines,' said Fiocruz's Sousa. Additionally, vector-borne diseases aren't each waiting for their turns. Countries can have multiple outbreaks at the same time on top of all the other health concerns that emerge during severe weather like extreme heat or the healthcare disruptions in the wake of a disaster like a major storm. 'We are seeing cumulative threats because we are seeing not just one vector-borne disease,' Sousa said. 'In a lot of scenarios, we are also maintaining high levels of communicable diseases.' Right now, some health departments are being proactive, keeping an eye out for sick travelers, collecting mosquitoes in the wild to see what kinds of germs they're carrying, and coordinating with researchers across the country. 'We've been having bi-weekly meetings with CDC to talk about the potential for Oropouche coming into the US and spreading,' said Bethany Bolling, zoonotic virology group manager at the Texas Department of State Health Services. 'We've seen in the past that Florida and Texas are some of the primary areas where these new viruses start to establish, so in Texas, we're trying to be aware of Oropouche and what the vectors are.' For the US, Brazil's experience with Oropouche is an important lesson that could help health officials prepare and counter the disease when it inevitably arrives.
Vox
24-06-2025
- Climate
- Vox
It's not just the cities. Extreme heat is a growing threat to rural America.
is a correspondent at Vox writing about climate change, energy policy, and science. He is also a regular contributor to the radio program Science Friday. Prior to Vox, he was a reporter for ClimateWire at E&E News. Summer has officially begun with a blast of scorching temperatures across much of the United States. The National Weather Service is warning of 'extremely dangerous heat' baking 160 million people under a heat dome stretching from the Midwest to the East Coast the rest of this week. It's already proven fatal. But while this is the first real taste of extreme heat for Northeastern cities, parts of the country like Texas have been cooking since May. Alaska this month issued its first-ever heat advisory. Forecasters expect more above-average temperatures through the summer. Related The Vox guide to extreme heat Summers are indeed getting hotter, a consequence of the warming planet. As the climate heats up, the frequency and intensity of heat waves is increasing and their timing is changing, arriving earlier in the season. But the damage from extreme heat isn't spread out evenly, and the more dangerous effects to people are not necessarily found in the hottest places. High temperatures often lead to more emergencies and hospital visits when they represent a big jump from a place's average, which means ordinarily cooler regions tend to suffer the worst harm from heat. That includes places like Alaska and the Pacific Northwest, where temperatures rarely climb higher than 80 degrees Fahrenheit and most homes don't have air conditioning. Related This number can measure how dangerous a heat wave is for you Now researchers have found that rural areas may suffer more under extreme heat than previously thought. A report from Headwaters Economics and the Federation of American Scientists found that more than half of rural zip codes in the United States, which includes some 11.5 million Americans, have 'high' heat vulnerability, a consequence not just of temperatures but unique risk factors that occur far outside of major cities. The thermometers thus do not tell the whole story about who is likely to suffer from extreme heat — nor do the images, which tend to come from sweltering cities. But understanding the factors that worsen the harm of rising temperatures could help save lives. What makes the countryside so vulnerable to extreme heat The discussion around the geography of extreme heat tends to focus on the urban heat island effect. The concrete, asphalt, steel, and glass of dense urban areas act as a sponge for the sun's rays. Air pollution from cars, trucks, furnaces, and factories helps trap warmer temperatures over cities, and that hotter air, in turn, accelerates the formation of pollutants like ozone. On a hot summer day, a city center can be 25 degrees Fahrenheit warmer than the surrounding regions. And with so many people squeezed into these metropolitan ovens, it adds up to a massive health burden from extreme heat. Related What American cities could do right now to save us from this unbearable heat But far outside of downtowns, where homes and buildings get farther and farther apart, rural regions face their own long-running challenges that exacerbate the dangers of extreme heat. A major factor: the median age of the rural population is older than in cities. That matters, because on a physiological level, older adults struggle more to cope with heat than the young. People living in rural communities also have double the rates of chronic health conditions that enhance the damage from heat like high blood pressure and emphysema compared to people living in urban zip codes. Rural infrastructure is another vulnerability. While there may be more forests and farms in the country that can cool the air, the buildings there are often older, with less adequate insulation and cooling systems for this new era of severe heat. Manufactured and mobile homes, more common in rural areas, are particularly sensitive to heat. In Arizona's Maricopa County, home to Phoenix, mobile homes make up 5 percent of the housing stock but account for 30 percent of indoor heat deaths. Even if rural residents have air conditioners and fans, they tend to have lower incomes and thus devote a higher share of their spending for electricity, up to 40 percent more than city dwellers, which makes it less affordable for them to stay cool. That's if they can get electricity at all: Rural areas are more vulnerable to outages due to older infrastructure and the long distances that power lines have to be routed, creating greater chances of problems like tree branches falling on lines. According to the US Census Bureau, 35.4 percent of households in rural areas experienced an outage over the course of a year, compared to 22.8 percent of households in urban areas. Sparsely populated communities also have fewer public spaces, such as shopping malls and libraries, where people can pass a hot summer day. Rural economies also depend more on outdoor labor, and there are still no federal workplace heat regulations. Farmworkers, construction crews, and delivery drivers are especially vulnerable to hot weather, and an average of 40 workers die each year from extreme heat. The health infrastructure is lacking as well. 'There is a longstanding healthcare crisis in rural areas,' said Grace Wickerson, senior manager for climate and health at the Federation of American Scientists. There aren't always nearby clinics and hospitals that can quickly treat heat emergencies. 'To really take care of someone when they're actually in full-on heat stroke, they need to be cooled down in a matter of minutes,' Wickerson said. The Phoenix Fire Department has now started using ice immersion for heat stroke victims when transporting patients to hospitals to buy precious time. But rural emergency responders are less likely to have tools like this in their ambulances. 'In Montana, which has not traditionally seen a lot of extreme heat, you would not have those tools on your truck and not have that awareness to do that cooling. When you see someone who has to also then travel miles to get care, that's going to worsen their health related outcomes,' Wickerson said. Emergency response times are generally much longer in rural areas, sometimes extending more than 25 minutes. People also have lower incomes and lower rates of insurance far from cities. Hospitals in rural areas are closing down as well. So when severe heat sets in, rural healthcare systems can get overwhelmed easily. Looking at data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the US Census Bureau, Wickerson and her collaborators mapped out how all these underlying factors are converging with extreme heat. They found that 59 percent of urban zip codes and 54 percent of rural zip codes are highly vulnerable to extreme heat as defined by the CDC's Heat and Health Index, meaning they are much more likely to see health problems from extreme heat. So while rural areas may be cooler, the people living there face heat dangers comparable to those in much hotter cities, and geographically, they cover a much wider expanse of the country. Rural areas across the US are facing major threats from extreme heat. Headwaters Economics/Federation of American Scientists So while temperatures out in the sticks may not climb to the same peaks they do in downtowns, urban heat islands are surrounded by an ocean of rural heat vulnerabilities. There's no easy path to cooling off There are ways to reduce the dangers of scorching weather across vast swaths of the country, but they aren't fast or cheap. They require big upgrades to infrastructure — more robust energy delivery, more shade and green spaces, better insulation, cool roofs, and more energy-efficient cooling. Countering extreme heat also requires bigger structural investments to reverse the ongoing rural healthcare crisis where a doctor shortage, hospital closures, and longer emergency response times are converging. But the Republican budget proposal will do the opposite, cutting healthcare access for millions of Americans that would, in turn, lead to dozens of hospitals closing down, mainly in rural areas. Protecting people from dangerous heat also demands policy changes. Most states don't have any worker protections on the books for extreme heat. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration is in the process of creating the first federal heat safety standard for employers, requiring them to give employees breaks, water, and shade when it gets hot. But it's not clear how strong the final regulation will be given that the Trump administration has been working to weaken rules across the board. Cities and local governments could also impose rules that prevent utilities from shutting off power to customers during heat waves, similar to regulations that limit heat shutoffs during the winter. But there are limits to how much people can adapt to hotter temperatures. Even places with a long history of managing heat are seeing more deaths and hospitalizations as relentless temperatures continue to mount. That means curbing the ongoing warming trend has to be part of the solution as well, reducing greenhouse gas emissions to slow climate change.
