Results from a survey of 168 energy firms show that “Of the oil producers and service companies that responded, only 3% said drilling activity will recover to pre-pandemic levels by the end of the year, while 39% said it will take to 2022 or later and 16% — roughly 1 in 6 energy firms — said it will never recover. The Dallas Fed carried out the survey from June 10-18.”
California is reconsidering it s “cap and trade” approach to energy transition/decarbonization. “Launched in 2013, California’s cap and trade program sets an overall cap on greenhouse gas emissions each year but offers flexibility in how companies achieve it by allowing them to buy and sell pollution credits in auctions. … California’s nonpartisan Legislative Analyst’s Office said that its possible this could become a trend: Future auctions might continue to flatline because of the recession and too many pollution credits floating around the market. … The Legislative Analyst’s Office warns too many credits might interfere with reaching California’s 2030 climate goals. … A think-tank analysis published in January suggested altering the minimum price at which cap-and-trade credits are sold, recommending that the price rise and fall in response to rising and falling emissions. … As California’s leadership haggled over the budget, Wieckowski’s proposal was scrapped. Blumenfeld said in his letter that California needs more time to understand the long-term consequences of the pandemic.”
I am wondering how the book's central concept, "landscapes of power," can be used to think about energy and infrastructural projects outside the Navajo context? The four modalities of power that make up this landscape are deeply influenced by your ethnographic data, and throughout the book you emphasize the need to pay attention to the particularities of places and communities. Thus, I would surmise that other landscapes of power would consist of different configurations of modalities of power? If so, how would you advise research into these other landscapes? What would should scholars pay attention to?
What motivated the structure of the book and the use of the interludes in particular? I'd like to learn more about the decision to include them as interludes. What was the idea behind these moments of reflection that both supplement and bring a brief pause to the argument?
How has the book been received among the communities that you work with? What have been the consequences, if any, for those actors and organizations who were featured in your analysis?
While it is certain that black communities in the US are being disproportionately impacted by COVID-19, the extent to which this is the case is still unknown. In Texas, there is only an 18% gap in the demographic data on the races of positive COVID-19 cases, which is much smaller than the 65% gap nation-wide. Still, this gap means the true prevalence of COVID-19 among black communities could range from being roughly equal to their population share to nearly three times worse (Martinez and Keller 2020). Furthermore, while Texas testing sites are recording the race/ethnicity of people who test positive for COVID-19, these articles in the Austin Statesmen and Austin's local NPR attest to the need to record similar data for rates of hospitalizations and death. Austin-Travis County does not record this data, which is why the City is unable to report any race-related differences in the distribution of COVID-19 fatalities (Platoff 2020). Across the state of Texas, only 1/3 of confirmed COVID-19 fatalities have data of the race or ethnicity of the deceased.
The COVID moment makes me think, among other things, of Gramsci’s critique of Rosa Luxemburg’s theory of the general strike. Gramsci argued, convincingly, that the general strike is no longer an effective means of disruption because of the level of development of the capitalist nation-state and world market. Well, COVID has disrupted everything more than any sort of social mobilization ever could. Except, perhaps, mobilizing for a war between nation-states, but even that is debatable. We all know that war is good for business and also the status quo.
I am wondering how the COVID crisis might be destabilizing formerly entrenched power relations, or at least rendering them more tenuous and ambiguous? On the one hand, it has certainly intensified certain forms of structural violence, such as the many LMI communities and people of color who are more susceptible to COVID complications because they have already endured years to decades of deadly levels of air pollution. On the other hand, the crisis also appears to be leveling out some of the more extreme asymmetrical power relations, like those between environmentalists and the oil and gas industry. For instance, the working conditions of both oil rigs and coal mines are uniquely susceptible to COVID outbreaks, which is prompting politicians to consider all their options as far as shutting down or reducing personnel and operations. There was also Virginia’s House Bill 528 that passed both the Senate and the House of Representatives and is currently awaiting the governor’s signature. Amid the COVID crisis and without much attention, a junior legislator pushed the bill through quietly, allowing greater state regulation of Dominion Energy’s monopoly over the region’s utilities. This victory is being interpreted as “a good start,” inspiring progressives in the state to act towards a more comprehensive set actions with “the imminent passage of the overarching Virginia Clean Economy Act.”
On another front, the COVID crisis is intersecting with Vladimir Putin’s price war, causing his plan to backfire to the degree that he and the leaders of other oil producing states are presented with very little means or options for raising the price of oil back to the pre-price war levels. The economic slow-down from quarantine mandates (along with the oil price war between Russia-Saudi Arabia) is also opening a new space for organizers along the gulf coast to fight against pipeline and refinery projects. Renewables, by contrast, are surviving COVID much better than fossil fuels and are on track to continue to outpace oil and gas development after the quarantines subside.
That being said, this depreciation of oil and gas prices isn’t necessarily a bloodless victory for environmentalists. Rates of natural gas flaring have increased significantly in 2020 and environmental watchdogs expect even more in response to the low prices of oil and natural gas. Furthermore, due to COVID-related labor shortages, many operators are having a hard time keeping these flares lit and yet continue to emit pure methane into the atmosphere, taking a far heavier toll on public health and the environment.
The cumulative impact of these developments has me questioning how the COVID crisis might be shaking the foundations of neoliberal hegemony. I am currently researching efforts to transition to renewable energy in Austin, Texas. Texas is unique in the energy world in many respects, none moreso than the state's level of committment to deregulation. However, this article in the Houston Chronicle discusses how Texas' deregulated electricity market complicates efforts to secure people’s access to electricity in a dramatic economic downturn (like COVID). In these situations, electric cooperatives and municipally owned utilities can simply run at a loss to ease the financial burden of electricity on their customers. They can then recover these losses by appealing to their regulators during their next rate case. The same does not go for retail energy providers, who have no mechanism to recover such losses. Thus, if left to their own devices, Texas’ recent state-wide moratorium on disconnecting people from the grid (due to job/income loss from COVID sanctions) would likely force small retail electricity providers out of business. This could then force other consumers to make the switch to more expensive providers that they may not be able to afford, causing a chain reaction of default and bankruptcy.
The Public Utility Commission of Texas (PUCT) was therein forced to come up with a new solution for electricity customers in the state's deregulated areas, which includes the majority of Texans (70%). What the PUCT decided upon is reminiscent of what authors Wainwright and Mann describe in their Climate Leviathan scenario (2018). The PUCT declared a state of emergency to establish its sovereignty and determine who shall pay for electricity, how much, and for how long, all in the name of keeping Texas’ the “deregulated” market alive.
To be more precise, the PUCT came up with an emergency fund that charges all ratepayers an extra .033 cents/kilowatt hour that will be used to compensate retail energy providers. Qualified rate payers would receive a 4cent/kilowatt hour credit on their bills that will go to the retail provider and keep them afloat. Most customers, however, pay more than that rate (almost double). These customers will be set up on payment deferment plans and will be prohibited from switching energy providers until this debt is paid in full. This effectively nullifies lower-to-moderate income families’ ability to switch providers to keep their cost of electricity as low as possible. Ironically, this feature was part of the fundamental rhetoric behind the deregulation of the Texas energy market back in the 1990s, a rhetoric that is embedded in the PUCT’s often praised Power To Choose tool.
Admittedly, this particular example is not one of revolutionary change, but one of containment and eventual re-integration into the status quo. It does, however, also show that the contemporary hegemony of neoliberalism is at least under stress. To the contrary of the expectations embedded in nearly every strategy of resistance, the political economic effect of quarantine is such that it is almost as if "the general strike" has been imposed upon us by the state in response to the threat of COVID-19. And as a result, free market ideologies are being challenged like never before. I am left wondering if and how different environmental/social justice groups are thinking about this disruption of traditional modes of production, distribution, and finance and rethinking their political strategies accordingly. Progressive movements springing up like The People’s Bail Out (PBO) suggest that many are aware of this moment of simultaneous need and opportunity.
Here is a quote for the PBO website:
“Policymakers and the administration have put forward plans that attempt to return the economy back to a status quo where safety and security are promised only to corporations and the wealthy few. Gambling trillions of tax dollars on stimulating the stock market can't fix the shortage of hospital beds, or the pollution in our skies. Only workers can.
In this moment of crisis, we need to change the rules. Let’s pull together, as we've done in times past, to demand our government provides money and care to those who are hardest hit by this crisis.”
Texas produces the highest quantities of crude oil, natural gas, and lignite coal in the United States, which, on top of its long history of legislative support for conventional energy industries, contributes to its reputation as a fossil-fuel state (EIA 2017). Nevertheless, Austin, the state capital, harbors a wealth of local residents and organizations invested in transitioning to clean-energy resources. Motivations behind these investments differ widely, however, ranging from concerns about public health and social and environmental justice to creating quality jobs and spurring economic growth. During preliminary fieldwork, I identified four unique-yet-overlapping collectives of clean-energy practitioners: 1) Austin’s public sector, 2) energy scientists and engineers, 3) energy business advocates and entrepreneurs, and 4) climate and social justice activists. Based upon initial fieldwork, these collectives appear to conceive of the risks, affordances, and the proper sociotechnical means of energy transition in divergent, if not conflicting ways. In this research, I ask if and how these diverse energy-transition imaginaries appertain to differences in conceptions of “good evidence” and the appropriate use of scientific research and knowledge in decision-making. By analyzing how different collectives of clean-energy practitioners determine the proper means of leveraging science in energy transition, I will gain an understanding of the data and evidentiary challenges entailed in city-scale energy transitions, and urban environmental governance more generally.
Louisiana plays a large role in the US's energy economy. It is both the highest energy consuming state (per capita) and the 8th largest energy producing state in the US. Louisiana is also the fourth highest producer of natural gas (7% of the US's total natural gas production) and has 8% of the US's natural gas reserves. The state’s 17 oil refineries enable the capacity to refine 3.3 million barrels of crude oil per day, which is 1/5 of the nation's total refining capacity. Louisiana also exports a considerable amount of energy resources. The New Orleans port alone handled 1/5 of the US's coal exports in 2018, and the Sabine Pass Liquid Natural Gas (LNG) export terminal exported 22% of the US's natural gas exports in 2017.
Though Louisiana is one of the last 12 states in the US that have yet to produce a Renewable Portfolio Standard (RPS) and currently generates only 1.8% of its electricity from renewable energy resources, the state has the potential to contribute significantly to the US's renewable energy economy. The state has considerable potential for geothermal energy and its wind resources have been estimated at 1,100 gigawatt hours of electricity per year. Louisiana's well-developed forestry and agricultural industries also have substantial promise as biomass energy resources. Though, as of yet, the state has not taken measures to develop and capitalize on these potential energy assets.
New Orleans is unique in that its electricity utility is regulated at the city instead of the state level. And this is a difference makes a difference, given that the city can plan and implement an RPS of its own, in lieu of a statewide standard. This process has recently been initiated. Energy Future New Orleans Coalition drafted a Resilient and Renewable Portfolio Standard (R-RPS) and submitted it for approval by the City Council on June 15, 2019. As of 2014, 57% of the city’s electricity was generated from Entergy’s nuclear power plants, 18% from natural gas plants, 4% from coal-fired plants, and the city sourced remaining 21% from the Midcontinent Independent System Operator from an assortment of resources. The latest draft of the proposed R-RPS includes a goal of achieving 100% carbon neutrality by 2040.
Swearingen’s (2010) account of the mainstream environmental movement in Austin documents which of Austin’s “green spaces” were successfully and unsuccessfully protected from development and from the deleterious effects of nearby industries. However, Tretter (2016) and Busch’s (2017) studies provide a necessary supplement, documenting how the Austin’s lesser valued spaces (which are mostly populated by communities of color) have been routinely polluted both by residential waste (location of trash dumps) and industrial off-gassing (Sematech and Motorola plants). It is unclear, however, from these accounts whether or not, or to what extent the Austin landscape has be marked by its energy system in particular.
During preliminary research, I witnessed numerous residents of various professions attest to the impact of Austin’s coal plant (Fayette) and natural gas plant (Decker) on Austin’s air quality. During my time in Austin I will be conversing with locals about the impact of Austin’s power generation on the local landscape as well as travelling throughout the city, observing the landscape, visiting energy production sites and Desired Development Zones.
According to a study by Environment America, Texas is by far the highest emitter of airborne mercury, with a total of 11,127 in 2010 (Madsen and Randall 2011). Ohio, the next highest emitter, produced 4,218 pounds. Texas has 6 of the top ten mercury producing coal-fired power plants in the U.S.
There is a strong correlation between the location of toxic development and manufacturing associated with Austin’s tech industry and the location of communities of color, both of which are predominantly found in East Austin. PODER has had appreciable success in combating these developments and enlisting the help of Austin’s liberal environmental elite to do so. The extent to which Austin’s environmental justice community and environmental sustainability community see eye-to-eye on this issue, however, remains a question for this research.
By the early 20th century, the unpredictability of the Colorado River was seen as the primary “natural barrier” to development, and the early entrepreneurs saw that the river was both the key and the biggest threat (Swearingen 2010). The rocky canyons and ravines that had been cut into the Edwards Plateau above Austin offered ample choice locations to create reservoirs for controlling the flow and supplying water and power to its developing urban areas. The first failed attempt to dam the river was undertaken as early as 1890. Austin’s elite business class arranged the financing of this $1.4 million dam through municipal bonds and hailed the dam as the engineering feat of the century. With the promise of electricity and a steady water supply, they were certain that it would bring Austin into modernity. However, this rhetoric did not hold water. In 1900, the first rise of the river since the dam’s construction completely destroyed the dam, caused $9 million in property damages, and killed 47 residents (Busch 2017). A few more private dams were built over the years, but these too would all succumb to the river’s turbulence. The first long-lasting infrastructural development to enable Austin to break free of its liquid boundaries wasn’t achieved until 1911 when a steel bridge was constructed followed by a trolley line. While the bridge rendered crossing the river less risky, and therefore successfully enabled the development of Austin’s southern neighborhoods (Swearingen 2010), this did nothing to help control the river and secure the water supply in times of drought. Developers were well aware that Austin’s growth would depend on an extensive system of dams, but there was simply not enough money to finance such an endeavor. Thus, a truly adequate system of water-management infrastructure would have to wait until the shift in economic philosophy that inspired the New Deal. Lyndon B. Johnson, a native Texan that quickly learned to master New Deal politics, managed to garner federal funds for the construction of numerous dams north of Austin, along with many other important infrastructural projects (Bush 2017). Two of the most important dams were the Tom Miller Dam (completed in 1940) and the Longhorn Dam (completed in 1960). These infrastructural successes garnered Johnson much fame and recognition and launched his political career (Sansom et. al 2008).
Today, Austin is a site of energy technology innovation. Austin Technology incubator has a strong energy focus, providing “niche management”. Pecan Street provides a means for incubated technologies to test and verify their innovations. From their website: “Pecan Street is the only organization or company that combines expertise in the ‘Internet of Things,’ high-velocity data acquisition, big data analytics, and lean product development to drive disruptive innovation for water and energy.”
