The 54-mile stretch of U.S. Route 80 connecting Montgomery to Selma appears unremarkable at first—just another highway cutting through Alabama’s Black Belt, where pine forests occasionally give way to scattered homes and rural crossroads. But this highway is paved with history. Here, civil rights icons Martin Luther King Jr. and John Lewis marched for voting rights in 1965. In Selma, where the highway transforms into broad city streets, state troopers violently assaulted peaceful demonstrators in the watershed moment known as “Bloody Sunday.” Today, a new champion has emerged from the hallowed ground of Lowndes County: Catherine Coleman Flowers. At 66, Flowers presents a gentle demeanor that belies her formidable influence as an advocate for the forgotten communities of the Black Belt and rural America more broadly. While she began to gain recognition a decade ago for exposing the sewage crisis in the region—where untreated waste even today regularly bubbles up into yards and homes—her mission transcends basic sanitation. Flowers has led the charge in connecting environmental justice and climate change with deep-rooted social inequities. In doing so, she has elevated local struggles into a national conversation about whose communities deserve protection and dignity. “What Catherine is trying to do is to open up a new conversation about what it means to look at these problems,” Bryan Stevenson, the acclaimed public-interest lawyer who runs the Equal Justice Initiative and who has worked with Flowers, told me. But her strength comes from more than just her message. Flowers has an eye for pragmatism. Her work crosses political and ideological boundaries that can hold back other advocates, and she is willing to work with anyone sincere about helping those struggling in her neck of rural America. It’s a skill fit for these polarized times. Flowers is a daughter of Lowndes County. Born in Birmingham, she moved with her family to Lowndes—her father’s hometown—during childhood. Flowers recalls civil rights leaders gathering in the house she grew up in, a stopping point in their activism. Flowers says this exposure “fed my hunger” in fighting for change. “People have asked me, ‘Why have you done this for so long?’” she says. “Because I’m from Lowndes County.” As an adult, Flowers followed a winding path to where she is today. In her words, she’s lived many lives. She attended university in Alabama, then Oklahoma, served a stint in the Air Force, and took on teaching jobs in Washington, D.C., before returning to Lowndes in 2000 on a mission to improve the community that raised her. Early on, she focused on economic development working as a consultant for Lowndes County. In her view, attracting companies to the area would bring investment that would in turn aid local residents. So, in 2002 she set up the Alabama Center for Rural Enterprise with that goal in mind. But she quickly ran into a problem: businesses didn’t want to set up shop in a place with infrastructure problems—namely, the lack of adequate sanitation throughout much of the region. The problem sounds simple, but it’s a thorny and persistent one. The majority of homes in the area lack a connection to the sewer system. Septic tanks can provide a solution, but in a county where the median income is $35,000, many simply can’t afford the price tag, which regularly exceeds $10,000. And stories abound of those who have paid but have been left with septic tanks that still fail. All you need to do to understand the problem is walk around a neighborhood. Sewage is in yards and common areas. It’s worse in heavy rain—increasingly a problem with climate change as warmer air holds more moisture. A 2017 survey of Lowndes found that 42% of residents had raw sewage on site. So, for more than two decades, Flowers has pushed for change. In 2004, she brought banking executives to town who helped facilitate new mobile homes and septic systems for some families most in need. In 2010, after working with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and then Senator Jeff Sessions, a conservative Republican from Alabama, she helped the county get funds to study the scale of the problem. She brought in public-health researchers to study ailments that affected residents, learning that exposure to raw sewage led to the spread of hookworm, a parasite that causes a wide range of ailments and was once thought to be eradicated in the U.S. More than a third of those tested in the county were found to be infected. And, separately, surveyors uncovered that a wastewater-treatment system recommended by local officials was failing residents at high rates. “For policymakers, if the data is not there, it doesn’t exist, even though it’s a problem,” she told me. Flowers’ work on sanitation issues that affect local water infrastructure is definitionally environmental. And it’s getting worse because of the changing climate. Higher rainfall and more flooding means more stress to sewage systems. In a testament to this intersection, in 2019 she changed the name of her organization to the Center for Rural Enterprise and Environmental Justice to highlight the link between the environmental and economic angles. But she has also mastered the art of meeting people where they are, speaking about climate in some contexts while leaning into the implications for livelihoods and health in others. Over the past several years, her efforts have found growing success. She brought reporters to Lowndes to draw attention to the problem, and in 2017 she invited a top U.N. official tasked with addressing extreme poverty. She soon began to fieldcalls from communities around the country facing similar problems. More than 2 million people in the U.S. lack access to clean and safe running water—and so she turned around and elevated those stories with policymakers and in the national media too. With increased public attention, she was able to get the Biden Administration on board. In 2022, federal officials announced a program to provide assistance for Americans without reliable waste-water management. The announcement came as part of a broader $11.7 billion commitment to addressing wastewater issues through loans and grants for water infrastructure, and Lowndes would serve as a pilot. “Lowndes County has never gotten credit for its role in fighting for democracy and voting rights,” she told me. “But hopefully we’ll also get the proper credit for fighting for equity and sanitation rights.” It’s fair to say that Flowers maintained a good relationship with the Biden Administration. One week when I visited Flowers in Alabama in 2022, she was showing around President Biden’s infrastructure czar and two Cabinet officials. Indeed, she held hands with Biden himself in 2023 as they walked from the Oval Office to the White House Rose Garden for him to sign an Executive Order promoting environmental justice. “You’re a great leader, Catherine, I really mean it,” Biden said. Nonetheless, Flowers is not an aggressive partisan. Early in her career, she worked with conservatives on economic development. And in her latest book published this year, Holy Ground, she praises Sessions, an adamant conservative and former Trump Attorney General, alongside Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders. She portrays GOP Senator Tommy Tuberville, who represents Alabama and aligns closely with Trump, as a potential ally. “What I try to do is find some commonality, and hopefully in the process we can develop a rapport and eventually some respect for each other,” she says. Nor is she a deep ideologue. While many in the environmental community take firm, unyielding positions, Flowers comes with an open mind. In 2023, I attended as she brought together environmental-justice leaders for a thoughtful discussion about carbon dioxide removal—a technology that many other environmental justice leaders rejected flat out as a cop-out that would allow companies to continue polluting. And, while many advocates went out of their way to dismiss Sultan Al Jaber, the oil executive charged with leading the 2023 U.N. climate conference in Dubai, Flowers took the time to meet him—and even posted about it on social media. “The more people that are into doing the work, the less I have to do,” she told me of her willingness to collaborate. “And the closer we get to where we need to be, which is to put us out of business.” It’s no secret that the environmental justice cause faces steep challenges in the coming months. The U.S. federal government has done a complete 180-degree turn, undoing Biden’s environmental-justice executive orders and leaving some afraid to speak out on those issues. The chilling effect shouldn’t be underestimated. And yet Flowers’s story offers a way forward. Drawing on her graduate studies in history, her work exposes the dark underbelly of America’s environmental injustices. In her writing and her public speaking, she doesn’t shy away from the grim realities of history, explaining how people of color have been harmed by discriminatory policy. But she also isn’t sharing that history to win partisan political points. “Throughout rural America people are living without working sanitation,” she told me after Trump took office. “And that is an issue that should remain a priority no matter who’s in the White House.”

There are two immutable forces that we ought to know President Donald Trump cannot stop. The first is the incoming tide of the ocean. The second is the growth of the clean-energy economy. He cannot hold back the rising tide because no steady stream of bluster, prevarication, or snake-oil salesmanship can have any effect on gravitational forces that rule the tides. Likewise, he cannot stop our creation of a clean-energy economy, because he cannot thwart the tremendously successful local efforts by leaders in states and towns who, by pushing for concrete, bold action on climate, are now growing green jobs like gangbusters. He may be able to slow climate progress down, but he cannot stop it entirely. Local leaders have the freedom to decide what their state prioritizes. We have the ability to pass our own laws, our own investments, our own air-quality standards. And we know we can achieve big things locally because we already met this challenge eight years ago. In the years since Trump pulled our nation out of the Paris Agreement in 2017, we in Washington State were advancing major climate policy—unrestrained by the federal government. This includes passing the country’s most aggressive cap-and-invest law, limiting carbon emissions by setting a clean-fuel standard and requiring a 100% clean electrical grid by 2045, and investing billions to help Washingtonians acquire everything from electric school buses to solar power. None of these achievements can be taken away by the stroke of a President’s pen. Emboldened by the power of local action, during Trump’s first term I co-founded the U.S. Climate Alliance—a group of 24 states, representing nearly 60% of the U.S. economy, that recognize their obligation to carry the ball with a climate denier in the White House, and the inarguable ability of states to act of their own accord. This approach maximizes the ideals of federalism: states acting in concert using their own mechanisms toward a common goal. And it has led to record clean-energy jobs, entrepreneurship, and robust economic growth. In Michigan, for example, Governor Gretchen Whitmer passed a 100% clean-electricity law in 2023 that will lower energy prices. In Maine, Governor Janet Mills’ incredible work over the past year financing heat pumps has resulted in the electrification of homes across her state. Thanks to the America Is All In coalition, cities and counties across the U.S. are undertaking similar efforts in their communities. This is not to say that Trump is not a threat to climate progress. His current attempt to cut funding for clean-energy deployment—from EV-charger installations to solar—is depriving us of our clean-energy future. But rather than waiting for the judicial system to right these wrongs, or cursing our TV screens, we must act ourselves. At this dark moment, we see peril in coping with the effects of climate change, but we also face much promise of building a new, better, higher-paying green economy. This promise, however, won’t happen without millions of Americans standing up for action. You have the power to help shape the destiny of every place you touch. You have the power to demand action from your representatives, to be on the streets, to make contributions to groups in the political trenches. The only thing that would be wrong is to do nothing.

To Republican Senator William Frist, who began his career not in politics but medicine, taking on the climate crisis was a natural next step after stepping down as Tennessee Senator in 2007. “It comes back to the same thing: improving the well-being of people by focusing on their health,” says Frist, who joined the Senate in 1995 before serving as Senate Majority Leader from 2003 to 2007. To this end, last year he partnered with the Nature Conservatory to establish the Senator Bill and Tracy Frist Initiative for Planetary and Human Health, which aims to bridge public health solutions and the climate crisis. Focusing on communicating the health impacts of climate change—which range from an increase in mental health crises to heightened risk of respiratory and cardiovascular disease—says Frist, is all about showing people that climate is not a partisan issue. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. TIME: You began your career as a physician before turning to politics. What inspired you to turn your attention to the climate crisis? Frist: I spent twenty years in medicine as a physician, and then as a heart and lung transplant surgeon, focusing on individuals and their health and their well being. And then for the next twelve years, I went to the policy arena in the United States Senate, where I did essentially the same thing, focusing on the health and well being of millions of people. In the last 15 years or so I have done the same thing in the climate arena, but now the audience is the planet. You have called for climate change to be recognized as a public health crisis. Why is it important to reframe the way we look at climate change? The human impact has been left out of the equation for too long. The best way to appeal to [people] is to start with how the changing climate will impact you and your children and generations to come. It's important now. It'll get increasingly important every day that goes by. I find that’s not disarming, but realistic, because that is why people are concerned. You have written about the mental health impacts of climate change, especially following extreme weather events. How do we address these effects, especially as extreme weather events are increasing in frequency? We have to look at mitigation in a way that we just haven’t in the past. The science is so clear now that hotter days affect mental health, whether it's diagnosable mental health, or it's the way we feel today. But until we bring together the mental health specialists who can talk to the policy makers, we're not going to see much change. What are some of the ways we can use policy to address the public health impacts of climate change? Individuals [need to] understand that by doing things locally, it can have an impact that affects policy at the state level and the global level. Having been a Senator, I've seen these successes and I recognize that it starts with the individual. Climate change knows no state borders, pollution knows no state borders, unstable weather patterns knows no state borders. It's a planetary issue but our policy structures are set up through local, regional, state, federal and global. [If] you pay attention and you learn and you communicate, and you elect, and you vote, you can affect that policy at the state level and the federal level, and then at the global level as well. And that's why I'm optimistic. By coming together, by framing both from a health perspective, starting with the individual, we can be successful here. We are speaking after the Trump Administration has made major rollbacks on climate initiatives. How do we convince policymakers on the state and federal level to prioritize climate-forward policies? I'm optimistic here as well, and it comes from experience addressing issues, like anti-smoking, which had a huge industry against any sort of progress, and HIV AIDS, which faced a lot of stigma. People say, “How can you be optimistic when you look at the last six weeks in executive order after executive order?” And there are basically two reasons. Number one is the people. If you talk to people today, I would say 70% say, “of course there is climate change, and there is climate change that is accelerating over my lifetime compared to it at any time.” The people are with us. Number two is the science. [We know] there are more frequent and higher intensity of extreme weather events now than at any time in recorded history. When you put those two together, ultimately, it's a matter of just bringing people to the table and communication. We have to make that connection. There's no question that we can address the changing climate and biodiversity laws, those two crises in a way that we've never been able to in the past. What are some of the ways people can work together on climate action while the country feels so polarized? I speak to individuals as I would a patient, and so I try to put myself in their situation. If I am talking to parents with children, I talk very directly about the impact that that [extreme] heat has on the ability of their child to learn in school, and that immediately establishes this relationship, because people want the best for their children. If I'm talking to people in communities where safety is an issue, I point out to them things that they don't normally jump to if they're talking about climate change: on those hotter days, there is a higher incidence of crime, there's a higher incidence of firearm injury. What I find is that by framing in terms of the impact [of climate change] on mental health or on physical health that people listen, they open up, and their next question is, ‘Why is that?’. What has it been like to work on climate action as a Republican these days? Why is it important for both parties to prioritize the environment? When I was in the Senate, the science wasn't as strong as it is today. But it hadn't really become the partisan issue that it became in the 2010s. People were working across the aisle on these big health issues that related to the environment. [When] I left in about 2006 … it became much more of a partisan issue. Once it became a partisan issue, it locked down the discussions we've had. It was a huge backward movement in many ways.

Samuel Beckett would have been as delighted as a toddler with a bubble blower at the dark absurdity of my situation. On Nov. 6, 2024, hundreds of people braved Los Angeles traffic and sat for the first preview performance of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot at the Geffen Playhouse. An eerie, discordant sound cue droned as I waited for the lights to bloom and thereby begin the 2½-hour odyssey of despair and postmodern hijinks. But as the lights came up, I had only one thought: “I wonder what the hell is left of my goddamn house?” Earlier that very day, the day after the 2024 election, that afternoon, my house caught on fire. As I was rehearsing in L.A., my wife Holiday was evacuating our pigs, dogs, and peahen into her truck as embers flew through the air, embedding themselves into nearby hedges and shingles and gutters. You see, there was a small fire about 10 miles away. But as we all now know, when you add the Santa Ana winds to a distant fire at 60 m.p.h., all hell breaks loose. Luckily, our handyman Scott was installing some doorknobs that morning. He quickly inflated the tires on our pig trailer, while Holiday used a giant bass net to capture Alma the peahen. Holiday later told me embers were whistling down like fiery shrapnel as the sky filled with smoke. As of curtain time, because we had not been allowed back onto the property, I had zero idea how much of our house was left. Two of our neighbors’ homes caught fire like Roman candles and evaporated. But thanks to the moxie of our fire department (and our cinder-block walls) we lost only a few rooms. Plus a couple dozen trees, a shed, parts of our roof, our fences, and most of our sprinkler system. What’s also strange—and poignant—is that for the past several years I had been working on climate communications with the organization Climate Basecamp, which I co-founded in 2022 to raise awareness about the crisis. And here I was, a victim of that self-same issue. You see, the weather in Southern California, like everywhere else, is changing dramatically. When I first moved to L.A. 25 years ago, I was struck by how much precipitation there was every winter. Weeks of pounding rain would fill the canyons and concrete rivers. But then that stopped. It was followed by an off-and-on stretch of one of the worst droughts in California history—in fact, the past 25 years were the driest the region has experienced in more than 1,200 years. This set the stage for what was to come. Some factors for this particular November fire? The previous winter had been a wet one and the underbrush grew like, well, wildfire. But there hadn’t been a drop of rain in months, and the Santa Ana winds were at twice their normal speed. Kindling was everywhere, just waiting for a spark. Last year was the warmest year in recorded history. And January 2025—when yet another devastating fire broke out in L.A.—was the warmest January ever recorded; 100-year out-of-the-box climate events are now happening every decade. All this adds up to some deadly extreme weather. And I’m far from the only one who has felt the wrath of climate change. Could the population and L.A. government have done more to prepare for and mitigate the fires? Of course. But there are larger forces at work. There’s so much we can do, we have to do. Besides reducing our carbon footprint, moving to EVs and cheaper renewable energy sources, and limiting the amount of meat we eat, we can get deeply acquainted with the science of the reality of our climate. This is not a partisan issue, it’s simply the truth about how oil and coal and deforestation have affected our planet. L.A. is the cultural capital of the world, and speaking science truth in the stories we artists produce would go a long way toward addressing the crisis. But back to our story. After the curtain closed and I could at last survey the damage, I found the charred land around my house, in a bit of cosmic irony, directly evoked the barren, post-apocalyptic landscape of the tragicomedy. That vision, I doubt Mr. Beckett would be delighted with.

Chef Selassie Atadika is the founder of Midunu—an experiential restaurant in Accra that highlights the region’s culinary heritage. She uses her food to advocate for sustainable agriculture and showcase the power of the African kitchen. This is her recipe: The fire is lit. The pot simmers, whispering stories passed down through generations. This is a vision, a remembering, a way forward. The African kitchen has always known the secret: food goes beyond sustenance; it is a system, a cycle, a story. If we listen closely, it will tell us how to heal the world. Prep Time: Generations. This recipe begins with the wisdom of those who came before us. Cook Time: Lifetimes. The simmering is slow but transformative, and each step reveals something new. Total Time: Ongoing. This dish evolves as we learn, grow, and adapt. There is no final version—only progress. Difficulty: Both Simple and Complex. The steps are intuitive, but they require patience, attention, and love. Servings: Servings: Infinite. Enough for a community, with plenty to share with future generations. Ingredients 1 cup of biodiversity A generous handful of circular economy thinking 3 heaping spoonfuls of communal dining A bouquet of plant-forward proteins 2 sprigs of Indigenous knowledge 1 teaspoon of preservation and seasonality A dash of regenerative agriculture A pinch of wild harvesting Nutrition Rich in resilience: Strengthens communities and ecosystems. High in connection: Builds bonds across generations, cultures, and landscapes. Source of hope and imagination: Encourages a reimagining of what food can be. Full of cultural fiber: Preserves traditions while adapting to the future. Contains sustainable energy: Powered by regenerative practices that nourish both land and people. 100% waste-free: Every part has value. Serving suggestions This dish is best shared in good company, served with gratitude, and paired with deep conversation. It is meant to be savored slowly, a reminder that the future of food is rooted in the past, and that every meal can be an act of healing—for our bodies, our communities, and the earth. Directions 1. Begin with Biodiversity. This is your foundation—a symphony of life, each drought-resistant grain slipping through fingers like fine desert sand, the richness of savanna soil after the rains, the lush abundance of forest harvests, and the salty breeze of coastal waters, all carrying the promise of nourishment and survival. Let these elements flourish as they weave together wild and cultivated, forgotten and found. The African kitchen has long embraced a rich variety of ancient grains, legumes, and greens, ensuring resilience in the face of uncertainty. 2. Fold in Circular Economy Thinking. Nothing must be cast aside. The wisdom of generations reminds us that every peel, every stem, every husk has a purpose waiting to be revealed. Oil pressed from golden groundnuts, broths thickened with yam skins—leftovers become tomorrow’s feast, every piece finding its place in the cycle of nourishment. 3. Add Communal Dining. Stir slowly. Let the pot thicken with conversation, the steam rising like laughter, bowls passed from hand to hand. In the tradition of breaking the kola nut, a gesture of unity and connection, in the touch of fingers to food, we are reminded—we are never meant to eat alone. 4. Infuse with Plant-Forward Proteins. Humble, powerful, life-giving. Millet, cowpeas, moringa, and other indigenous plant proteins nourish deeply, just as they have done for centuries. Bambara groundnuts and egusi seeds swell in the pot, their richness deepened by the slow heat. Ancient grains ground into flour, transformed into soft, warm sustenance, filling the air with the scent of hearth and home. They regenerate the soil as they feed us, proving that sustainability starts from the ground up. 5. Sprinkle in Indigenous Knowledge. Let it guide your hands, your heart. Ferment, preserve, braise slowly, remembering that the past is always present in the pot. The asanka and tapoli grind spices into fragrant pastes, while the ijabe whisks okra into silky perfection. Aged flavors develop in clay pots, the steady beat of pounding sticks echoing the wisdom of those who came before us. The smoke of slow-burning wood and the richness of sun-dried abundance—each technique preserving history in every bite. 6. Gently mix in Preservation and Seasonality. Generations before us left clues—smoking, drying, fermenting—to ensure food nourishes not just today but all the tomorrows to come. Follow the rhythm of the seasons. The sweetness of fruit caught at its peak, preserved at its peak. African locust beans, waiting patiently for the seasons to shift to be fermented into the fragrant umami bomb, dawadawa. Ancient methods of storage and fermentation allowed communities to thrive even in the leanest seasons, proving that patience and planning are essential ingredients. 7. Finish with Regenerative Agriculture and a touch of Wild Harvesting. Taste the wildness, honor the land, and offer it your gratitude. The most sustainable foods are often those that grow freely—leafy greens, nuts, fruits—requiring no additional strain on the land but offering abundant nourishment in return. The traditional form of agriculture known as proka, with its quiet resilience, helps restore the land, leaving the soil richer for seasons to come. The most sustainable foods ask for little, yet offer everything. Notes The fire is still lit. The pot still simmers. The future is being written at the table. And in the quiet between each bite, we remember: the past is not behind us—it is carried forward in our hands, in our kitchens, in the wisdom we reclaim. Sankofa—go back and get it.

Michael Bloomberg tends to avoid the press. The New York City mayor turned climate advocate is not a regular guest on cable news. But having helped close more than 300 coal-fired power plants in the U.S., cut New York City’s emissions by nearly 20%, and contributed more than $1 billion to climate action, he has a story to tell. In 1981, Bloomberg launched what would become a media empire by providing data that informs financial decision­-making. During his three terms as New York City mayor, from 2002 to 2013, he applied that same data-driven approach to advance pragmatic solutions on a wide range of issues, from crime to public health—even if, at times, that approach put him out of step with politics. Since leaving office, he has brought the same thinking—and that billion-plus dollars—to climate change, with unmatched results that have accelerated action in the U.S. and around the world—supporting everything from stopping air pollution in the Deep South to protecting ocean ecosystems. In the U.S., one of his most successful efforts was also one of his earliest. Beginning in 2011, he funded the Sierra Club’s Beyond Coal campaign, which called for the country to accelerate its move away from coal-fired power. His contributions, which totaled in the hundreds of millions of dollars over the following decade, helped pay lawyers and campaigners to advocate in city halls and courtrooms across the country for the closure of coal-fired power plants. Those efforts—combined with cheap natural gas and renewable energy—have helped push coal to just 15% of electricity produced in 2024, down from over 40% in 2011. “It really has been one of the most rewarding projects I’ve ever been involved in, and it would be hard to find a better return on investment,” he said in 2017. The campaign was so successful, he expanded it with Beyond Carbon, to advance the clean-­energy transition, and Beyond Petrochemicals, to prevent the construction of new U.S. petrochemical facilities. He’s also worked to empower local climate action—no matter the position of national governments. Through global initiatives like C40, a network of major cities committed to addressing climate change, Bloomberg has created platforms for mayors to share best practices and implement solutions tailored to urban environments. In his view, cities can serve as laboratories to test climate policies, which can later be scaled. “Cities have played a more important role in shaping the world than empires,” he wrote in a 2015 article in the magazine Foreign Affairs. Since November, as many philanthropists have pulled back their funding of climate initiatives in the face of political pushback, Bloomberg has doubled down. Through his foundation, Bloomberg Philanthropies, he funded America Is All In, an initiative that supports state and local governments in their efforts to cut emissions. And Bloomberg Philanthropies is leading an effort with other funders to cover the hole left in the U.N. climate body’s budget when President Donald Trump announced that the U.S. would leave the Paris Agreement and cease any financial commitments made under it. Last year, the U.S. contributed $10 million to the body. Ever mindful of the data, Bloomberg Philanthropies has also targeted several key areas of focus that the numbers show can make a big dent in the next stage of climate action: working with countries to help cut methane emissions and supporting cities to make their building stock less carbon intensive. While less present to the general public, Bloomberg is keen to spread his message about market-based, financially rooted climate progress to other corporate and public-­sector leaders. He serves as a special U.N. climate envoy, charged with engaging the private sector on the issue. He chaired the Task Force on Climate-­Related Financial Disclosures, working to harmonize how companies disclose their climate-­related financial risks. And he chairs the Glasgow Financial Alliance for Net Zero, which helps financial institutions advance the energy transition. Meanwhile, he drops well-timed op-eds in his namesake media outlet explaining the opportunities for acting on climate change. “Economic growth and fighting climate change go hand in hand,” he has said repeatedly. To his credit, he’s spending the time and money to make sure the rest of the world understands that too. Correction, March 27 The original version of this story misstated the status of Michael Bloomberg's role at the Task Force on Climate-­Related Financial Disclosure. He is the former chairman, not the current one.

Despite distancing himself from Project 2025 on the campaign trail, President Donald Trump’s early actions have taken plenty of inspiration from the conservative policy playbook created by think tank the Heritage Foundation. A Time analysis conducted in January found that nearly two-thirds of the executive actions Trump issued during his first days in office mirrored, either in full or in part, proposals in the 900-page document. This includes withdrawing from the Paris climate agreement. Since then, Trump has continued to draw from Project 2025 when it comes to his cuts to the government’s climate efforts—from targeting national monuments and the weather service, to culling scientists from the Environmental Projection Agency. The deregulatory push mirrors the Heritage Foundation’s long history of opposing climate action. The think tank has also had a close relationship to the administration over the years. According to CNN, several former Trump staffers helped shape Project 2025. And during Trump’s first term, both the president and members of Congress cited a Heritage study on the economic costs of climate action that was found to be “strongly influenced by the subjective assumptions made by study authors,” according to a review by the World Resources Institute. (The report concluded that participation in the Paris Agreement would result in an aggregate GDP loss of over $2.5 trillion by 2035. That's compared to a 2024 estimate by the Climate Policy Initiative that puts the global cost of inaction at $1,266 trillion.) Here are the major ways that the Trump Administration is enacting the Project 2025 goals for targeting environmental regulations and climate action in the United States. Withdrawing from International Climate Agreements Project 2025 called for the U.S. to withdraw from the Paris Accords, the landmark climate initiative aimed at reducing greenhouse gas emissions. On his first day in office,Trump did just that, issuing an executive order to initiate the process. The playbook has also proposed that the U.S. withdraw entirely from the United Nations Framework on Climate Change (UNFCC), an intergovernmental body which facilitates negotiations on climate change. Trump has said that the U.S. ambassador to the U.N. would submit formal written notification of this, though it has yet to happen. Project 2025 also opposed U.S. participation in climate reparations funds, arguing that any fund administered by a non-U.S. organization “provides no assurance that U.S. interests will be protected.” Following through on this, in early March the United States withdrew from the board of the Fund for Responding to Loss and Damage, created to help developing countries respond to the impacts of climate change. Advertisement Targeting the National Weather Service Project 2025 calls for the dismantling of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), which houses the National Weather Service, the National Ocean Service, the Oceanic and Atmospheric Research, and other agencies the group deemed “a colossal operation that has become one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry.” The document called for NOAA to be “broken up and downsized,” which the Trump Administration is in the process of doing. In February, the Trump Administration attempted to fire hundreds of NOAA employees. A federal judge issued a temporary restraining order against the move in March, but though the employees were reinstated by the Department of Commerce, the staffers were placed on administrative leave pending further litigation. The decision is already taking a toll. In mid-March, NOAA said it would reduce weather balloon launches—which provide key data for weather forecasting—in several locations due to staffing shortages. Advertisement Reviewing National Monument Designations The Antiquities Act of 1906 authorizes the president to protect federal lands that are of historic or scientific importance. Under the Biden Administration, the government used this act to establish, expand, or restore eight national monuments totaling more than 3.7 million acres. The Heritage Foundation nodded to this in Project 2025 by calling for the “review” of those monument designations, saying that President Biden “abused his authority” in protecting those lands. A recent study from the Center for American Progress and Conservation Science Partners, however, found that the establishment of those monuments played a significant role in reducing the “nature gap” and providing access to nature deprived communities. The Heritage Foundation also called for a repeal of the Antiquities Act. Trump targeted the Antiquities Act during his first term, directing the Secretary of the Interior to review national monuments that had been designated in the past two decades. Two national monuments in Utah were downsized as a result, though the Biden Administration restored its original boundaries. The Trump Administration has not yet issued any orders on the Antiquities Act, however the Washington Post has reported that the White House has plans to eliminate two national monuments in California established by the Biden Administration. Reshaping the U.S. Global Change Research Program Project 2025 calls for an Executive Order to “reshape” the U.S. Global Change Research Program (USGCRP), a federal effort to study the impact of human and natural forces on the environment. The organization is responsible for the National Climate Assessment, which researches the impact of climate change in the United States. It also puts together the National Nature Assessment, which looks at the state of U.S. lands, waters, and wildlife. In the weeks after Trump took office, three science reports relating to climate change—two of which are mandated by Congress—were removed from the USGCRP website, according to Politico. Advertisement Reviewing FEMA’s Effectiveness The Project 2025 blueprint calls for “reforms” to the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), the organization responsible for responding to natural disasters in the U.S. Among the proposals include privatizing the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP) and shifting the majority of preparedness and response costs to states and cities. Trump has echoed this goal; on Jan. 24th, the president announced a council to assess FEMA and its effectiveness. The privatization of the NFIP would place the burden of responding to floods—and covering the costs incurred by these disasters—on cities, especially as flood insurance is not covered by standard insurance policies. As climate change worsens, floods are becoming more devastating. The number of flood-prone areas around the country is expected to grow by nearly half by the end of this century. Extracting Natural Resources in Alaska Advertisement The conservative blueprint refers to Alaska as a “special case” that “deserves immediate action” and calls for previously protected lands to be opened up for drilling and mineral extraction. The plan also calls for the end of wildlife and water resource protections and the approval of logging and infrastructure projects in the Tongass National Forest. “Alaska has untapped potential for increased oil production, which is important not just to the revitalization of the nation’s energy sector but is vital to the Alaskan economy,” the document says. Trump has signed an executive order implementing this, and the U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum recently announced that the department would be taking steps to open up more acreage for oil and gas leasing and lift restrictions on building a pipeline and mining road in the state. Culling EPA Staff In a chapter focused on the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), Project 2025 said that the EPA’s staff and activities, “far exceeded its congressional mandates and purpose.” The document also calls for “reform” of the Endangered Species Act. It calls for the delistment of the Grizzly Bear and Gray Wolf as endangered animals and wants an “end its use to seize private property, prevent economic development, and interfere with the rights of states over their wildlife populations.” It also plans to abolish the Biological Resources Division of the U.S. Geological Survey, an agency that provides scientific research to support the conservation of public lands and their resources. In March, Trump announced planned cuts to the agency, including the elimination of the Office of Research and Development, which would impact over 1,000 employees, including scientists. Also in March, the U.S. House of Representatives Natural Resources Subcommittee on Water, Wildlife, and Fisheries said it will consider legislation put forward to amend the Endangered Species Act. It will also consider a separate bill to remove the Gray Wolf from the endangered species list.

On the fringes of the United Nations General Assembly last year, the Potsdam Institute’s Johan Rockström unveiled the Planetary Health Check—a science-based global initiative which showed that six planetary boundaries are nearing dangerous tipping points, threatening our future. Until now, companies, nations, and organizations have each brought their own weight to bear on this challenge. But as the science shows, and as the effects unfold, it’s clear that it’s not enough for the planet’s leaders—from CEOs to NGOs—to act in silos. The world needs a new and bolder approach to the climate and nature crises—one that brings together different groups and unlocks the creativity needed to turbocharge climate solutions. From activists to companies, everyone is talking about collaboration as the key to climate solutions. But that's easier said than done. Common barriers to the bold cross-sectoral, cross-industry partnerships include challengings in aligning objectives, vision, and values; overcoming competitive barriers; and securing organizational buy-in, to name a few. In an effort to champion strong partnerships, earlier this year the World Economic Forum hosted its GAEA (Giving to Amplify Earth Action) Awards in collaboration with global management consulting firm Kearney. This includes work by honorees Built By Nature, HYBRIT, and the Youth Climate Justice Fund—all of which are raising ambition across the public, private, and philanthropic sectors. Here’s what their collaborative models look like: Cross-Sector Problem Solving The building and construction sector is the largest and fastest growing emitter of greenhouse gases by far, making up nearly 40% of global emissions. But what if cities could absorb carbon instead of emitting it? Built By Nature (BbN), an Amsterdam-based non-profit with the vision of a built environment in harmony with nature, is facilitating collaboration across the sector to accelerate the use of timber and other bio-based materials as an alternative to carbon-intensive steel and cement. Founded three years ago, BbN brings together developers, architects, policymakers, insurers, and financial institutions to better understand and find solutions to tackle entrenched barriers—such as restrictive building codes, outdated risk perceptions, and financing challenges. By bringing these diverse stakeholders together through collaborative national networks across multiple European cities, BbN creates the conditions for bio-based materials to scale. These networks foster peer learning, drive policy change, and surface new innovations that accelerate progress. This collaborative approach has allowed BbN to amplify its support by coordinating funding from industry, government, and philanthropic donors. To date, it has invested 6.5 million euros, leveraging an additional 6.7 million euros in co-funding, directing these resources toward targeted research and practical solutions to scale bio-based materials. Advertisement And this empowers problem solving. One of the major barriers BbN’s networks have addressed is the challenge of securing insurance for timber buildings. BbN convened a group of U.K.-based industry stakeholders, including developers, architects, insurers, and agents to find solutions. The resulting Mass Timber Insurance Playbook debunks misconceptions, mitigates risk, and provides guidance for unlocking insurance for bio-based construction. Without BbN’s collaborative model, sectors would continue to work in their traditional silos, struggling to tackle the complex challenges of decarbonizing construction with innovative, low-carbon materials. “Partnerships across sectors are key to our success—and our hope is that the profile that this GAEA Award provides will enable Built by Nature to attract more industry leaders, systems change pioneers and supporters to our mission,” says Paul King, CEO of Built By Nature. Advertisement Tapping Industry Collaboration Increased demand for steel over the past decade has led to a rapid rise in emissions. To put steel on a net-zero emissions pathway, the world must reduce its reliance on coal—this is what HYBRIT is doing. HYBRIT brings together Swedish industry leaders SSAB, LKAB, and Vattenfall on a mission to replace coal with fossil-free hydrogen in steel production. What sets this groundbreaking initiative apart is its peer-to-peer collaboration model, where each partner contributes complementary expertise: SSAB’s advanced steel manufacturing, LKAB’s sustainably-sourced iron ore, and Vattenfall’s fossil-free energy. As Anna Borg, Vattenfall CEO and TIME Magazine Top 100 Climate Leader, said at the GAEA Awards ceremony at this year’s World Economic Forum Annual Meeting: “When SSAB, LKAB, and Vattenfall started this collaboration in 2016 we knew that this is the business model of the future. But believing wasn’t enough—we had to prove it. HYBRIT has succeeded in delivering a product with superior qualities, proven process, delivered on time and on budget.” Advertisement HYBRIT’s technology could reduce Sweden’s emissions by 10%, but its impact extends far beyond its national borders, creating a replicable model for decarbonizing heavy industry globally. These companies, typically operating independently, are showing how collaboration can solve systemic challenges by reducing costs, mitigating risks, and combining knowledge. Powering Youth Leadership From setting up grassroots community initiatives to developing technological solutions to climate challenges, young people are leading the charge on climate and nature action. But less than 1% of global climate funding supports youth-led initiatives, leaving them without crucial support and the opportunity to connect with funders and donors. The Youth Climate Justice Fund (YCJF) is working to address this imbalance by advocating for youth-inclusive philanthropy and developing a pipeline for larger funders, while ensuring that young leaders have agency over how they allocate the funding they receive. As co-director Nathan Méténier highlights, “Our model is about calling everyone in. Young people are a dynamic force, yet we’re falling short in scaling support for their innovations.” Advertisement Underpinned by the belief that collaboration is essential for climate justice, YCJF fosters intergenerational relationships by connecting grantee partners with experienced youth activists. It also partners with funders to pilot youth-led convenings, mobilizing resources for frontline climate initiatives. “In just two years, we’ve funded 90+ initiatives across 45 countries, committing $2.1 million to grassroots solutions,” says co-director Joshua Amponsem. “There is so much more we can all do together to support young leaders and grassroots groups whose lived experiences offer insights to achieve equitable climate action.” Across all three models—Built by Nature, HYBRIT, and the Youth Climate Justice Fund—a common theme emerges: collaboration is integral to achieving systemic change. Yet, because it’s not easy to bring unlikely allies together, these initiatives offer new and innovative approaches to do so meaningfully and authentically. They also demonstrate that when different groups work together, they can pool expertise, resources, and influence to drive meaningful progress in the fight against climate change.

Barbados Prime Minister Mia Mottley has become a leading champion of small economies in global climate discussions. And so I took note at last year’s United Nations climate conference when she said she thought countries should engage then-President elect Trump to try to explain the importance of climate work. “I am not one of those who will come out and say immediately that with the election of President Trump all is gloom and doom,” she said at a fireside chat last November. “We need to find mechanisms… to have the conversations.” Mottley’s position has evolved since then. Trump entered office in January with an aggressive agenda to attack clean energy and end collaboration on climate change. Last week, as delegates from around the world gathered in Barbados for a sustainable energy conference, Mottley instead insisted that small countries would need to find their own way forward. “You don't spend time or energy praying over what could have been,” she said. “But we deal with the world as it is.” Across three days of talks at the SEforAll Global Forum in Barbados, Trump barely came up explicitly. It’s not that anyone there underestimated the consequences of his election for global climate progress. Rather, his election has finally sunk in, and attention has turned to paving a path forward—without the U.S. It’s a telling glimpse at how climate discussions may be shifting. The gravitational pull of the U.S. should not be dismissed; some countries will inevitably follow his lead. Nonetheless, if the conversations in Barbados provide any indication, many emerging and developing economies remain eager to forge their own clean energy path. The U.S. shadow has always loomed large over international climate collaboration. As the world’s largest economy and only superpower, climate negotiators had to adjust language carefully to respond to the U.S. political context. With the Paris Agreement in place, conversations have largely focused on finance—getting money flowing to energy transition projects, particularly in developing and emerging economies. But despite the central role the U.S. played in setting up the system, U.S. public money never came to represent the lifeblood of international climate finance—even as developing countries and climate advocates insisted that the country owed it to the rest of the world to pay up because of its historical emissions. Even in the climate-friendly Biden Administration, it took significant wrangling for the White House to commit to $11 billion in annual international climate finance. To put that in perspective, developing countries left last year’s U.N. climate talks disappointed that their wealthier counterparts committed only to a total $300 billion in annual climate finance. Advertisement In other words, on the finance front, the U.S. isn’t leaving that big of a gap to fill. So where will the money come from? One key area under discussion at the SEforAll forum, where I spoke with officials in the public and private sectors based everywhere from Fiji to Sierra Leone, was so-called south-south collaboration. Instead of looking to the U.S. and Europe to pony up capital, developing and emerging market countries can work together—providing the goods and finance without the help of their wealthier counterparts. According to research from the Brookings Institution, trade between Global South countries recently surpassed trade between Global North countries. “This is a great signal of progress,” Arancha González, a former foreign minister of Spain who is now the dean of the Paris School of International Affairs at Sciences Po, told me on a panel I moderated at the forum. “It tells us that there is a new world out there.” Advertisement Potential sources of finance include development banks located in large emerging economies like Brazil and South Africa. Institutions like the New Development Bank, formed in 2014 by the BRICS nations of Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa, have financed billions in clean energy development. And, of course, it’s impossible to talk about this financial picture without talking about China. The country’s Belt and Road Initiative has been a source of more than $1 trillion in capital for infrastructure since its inception in 2013. In recent years, the country has increasingly focused its funding on green projects. Many developing countries have also focused on raising capital locally to fund projects—pushing savings and pension fund money to invest in the local market rather than looking abroad for higher returns. And then there are the new methods of what is often called blended finance. Traditionally, the term refers to a combination of public and private capital where the public money lowers the risk for private investors. More recently, philanthropy has entered the blended finance conversation, playing an increasingly important role providing money Advertisement “We have what we call strange bedfellows, where… institutional investors are partnering with a philanthropic organization, and together coming up with a blended finance solution that is innovative in approach,” says Ije Ikoku Okeke, who runs catalytic climate capital for the Global South at RMI, a clean energy non-profit. A right-wing populist might not object to this new dynamic. In such a world view, American money should support Americans—leaving other countries to their own devices. But is the U.S. really better off if the rest of the world builds a coalition with Americans on the sidelines? Putting U.S. strategic interests aside, it is a little refreshing to hear a conversation about clean energy in the Global South that doesn’t get bogged down in whether the U.S. is going to live up to its moral responsibility as the world’s biggest historic emitter and instead focuses on solutions.

When oil and gas executives first began using the phrase “all of the above” more than a decade ago, it was their pitch that climate advocates and sympathetic policymakers should keep natural gas alongside renewables in their vision of a new energy future. The grid needs abundant, reliable natural gas as back up when the wind isn’t blowing, they argued. This year, the tables have turned. With renewable energy in the Trump Administration’s crosshairs, energy industry big wigs have come to use “all of the above” as a reminder that renewable energy—particularly solar—has an important role to play in keeping the lights on. “We believe in all forms of energy,” said John Ketchum, CEO of NextEra Energy, the world’s most valuable electricity company, at a CERAWeek side event. “When we go to customers, we don't really care if we're selling wind turbines or gas turbines, we want to give them the lowest cost solution.” To hear some activists talk about the new Trump Administration, the president blindly does the bidding of his fossil fuel benefactors. And, in public, many top executives are keen to praise Trump and show close relations with the White House. But behind the scenes many in the industry are more measured, and even critical. Projections of soaring power demand in the U.S. have led utility executives to turn to whatever power source is available—including wind and solar—even as the Trump Administration tries to diminish renewables. Tariffs have threatened the bottomline. And oil executives have woken up to the reality that Trump’s vision of low oil prices doesn’t align with increased domestic production—or industry profits. It’s certainly possible that these tensions remain under wraps. Corporate executives are not inclined to cross Trump, and market forces may be strong enough to keep the energy sector humming along mostly in line with expectations. Nonetheless, understanding the complicated nuance—which in many ways is counterintuitive—is important to grappling with the opportunities to minimize emissions in the coming years. There is no better place to digest energy industry sentiments and trends than the annual CERAWeek conference by S&P Global in Houston. The conference, held last week, draws energy executives and government officials from around the world. This year’s conference, which I attended for part of last week, offered a prime example of the phrase “two things can be true at once.” Industry officials widely praised some of the new administration’s deregulatory moves, but at the same time many expressed deep concerns about the uncertainty that Trump has created. Advertisement "Swinging from one extreme to another is not the right policy approach," Chevron CEO Mike Wirth said on the CERAWeek main stage. "We have allocated capital that's out there for decades, and so we really need consistent and durable policy." Jack Fusco, CEO of natural gas company Cheniere, praised the administration for pivoting the “regulatory machine” in a direction that’s “fair and transparent.” But he followed his praise with a hint of apprehension, saying he hoped the agenda would “hold up in a rule of law”—an acknowledgement of the litigation and uncertainty that surrounds much of Trump’s policy agenda. Even attacks on the Inflation Reduction Act, former President Joe Biden’s landmark climate change law, have some corners of the industry worried. Oil and gas companies had planned to pursue tax incentives for technologies like hydrogen and carbon capture and storage—and dedicated billions in capital to doing so. “We're looking for the continuation of 45Q,” said Vicki Hollub, the CEO of Occidental Petroleum, referring to a tax credit for carbon capture on the conference main stage. “To accelerate the technology at the pace that the U.S. needs it to accelerate, to start having the positive impact on our energy independence, we need 45Q to happen and to stay in place.” (The provision is thought to be one of the credits most likely to survive though everything will be in play during negotiations). Advertisement Behind the scenes many executives offered more vocal concern. As stocks plummeted on the conference’s opening day, executives stewed over tariffs that Trump imposed on Canada’s energy sector, which is highly integrated with the U.S. And Trump’s unpredictable approach more broadly drew concern. In the long term, different views on the price of oil may represent the biggest potential collision. Trump has repeatedly suggested he would like to see the price of oil come down as low as $50/barrel. (Right now the U.S. benchmark for crude oil is around $72/barrel). Voters love low energy prices because it means affordable gas at the pump. But oil companies hate when prices sink too low because it’s harder to turn a profit. For utility executives, the complication of rising power demand remains top of mind. Analysts have predicted soaring demand for electricity as technology companies grow their data center footprint in response to artificial intelligence. That has led the industry to pursue whatever electricity it can build quickly—a lot of natural gas, yes, but also a lot of solar. Advertisement As I’ve written before, the dynamic nature of the Trump Administration’s policymaking makes it difficult for companies to plan. And predicting what comes next is folly. But whatever happens it’s safe to say that the convenient narrative of a Trump Administration moving in lockstep with the energy sector is, at the very least, missing several puzzle pieces. It also means, oddly, that the most influential advocates in Washington for some decarbonization provisions—like carbon capture, sustainable aviation fuel, and hydrogen—may be energy executives embracing the “all of the above” mantra. But even that may not be enough to save climate-friendly tax incentives.