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voltage on our wires sags (brownouts), and it seriously stutters when the
power breaks for real. Big outages are the most dramatic in this regard,
but they are not necessarily the most expensive. The 2003 East Coast
blackout, caused by an overgrown tree and a computer bug, blacked
out eight states and 50 million people for two days. So thorough and vast
was this cascading blackout that it shows as a visible dip on Americas
GDP for that year. Six billion dollars lost: thats $60,000 per hour per
blacked-out business of lost revenues across 93,000 square miles.
As impressive as this was, outages of five minutes or less are actually
more costly to the efficient running of our national economy, in part
because they are so much more prevalent. For a lot of machines, an
outage of fifteen seconds and one of fifteen minutes or fifteen hours
produces precisely the same kind of damage and takes roughly the
same time to put right again. After the big East Coast blackout of 1965,
caused by an incorrectly set relay, we couldnt even get our power
plants to come back online. It turns out you need electricity to make
electricity, and so diesel generators had to be wheeled in and used to
black-start our coal-burning plants and nuclear power stations.
Another biggie for New York City came in 1977, caused by a light-
ning strike at a substation up the Hudson River. As this one tore the lid
off Pandoras box, it released another kind of trouble. The looting was
tremendous. The blackout gave the anger long brewing on that citys
streets an outlet. New York rang with the sound of smashed glass
and stank of soot and smoke as scores of tenements were burned to
the ground. There are many ways that darkness can be destructive
to the well-being of a community. It can bring cold and hunger, as
did the ice storms that blacked out the Ozarks in 1987. Equally, it can
play host to hot tempers and opportunistic predators.
On a lighter, if no less economically devastating, note in 1987, and
again in 1994, the NASDAQ lost power because of squirrels gnawing
on the electric lines that connect that stock exchange to the world.
Not every blackout is caused by a world-class storm. Many are made
creeping their way into our national energy mix since the 1970s. These
are anything but obedient. The utilities can command them, but they
do not listen. The utilities can attempt to control them, but their efforts
falter in the face of meteorological processes, planetary in scale.
At issue are the vagaries of nature. The wind can never blow with
the same steadiness that factory-combusted coal provides, and the
suns rays, while ever present, are all too often blocked from reaching
the panels weve built to gather them by clouds. Each moment of
shade, no matter its length, is translated by solar panels into a dip in
the electricity they produce. Every shift in the winds speed becomes
an uneven rise and fall of available electrical current.
This is further complicated by the fact that our machines, which
strictly speaking are what the grid was built to power, were designed
to run on a well-regulated, predictable electrical flow. For over a
century this steadiness and predictability was made at the power
plant. Sustainable energy sources provide something else: an incon-
sistent, variable power that our grid is unprepared to adapt to.
Nevertheless, it is increasingly clear that these alternatives to fossil
fuels are where our energy future lies.
If greening the grid were only a matter of transitioning to variable
generation, I suspect that the grumbling and foot dragging might be
assuaged by some well-thought-out policy decisions and lots of seed
money thrown at the development of some new and better means for
storing electricity (see chapter 8). However, it is problematic not only
how renewables make power but where they make it. Wind farms go
up where it is windy. And places like Wyoming or Iowa or West Texas
have a lot of strong wind on constant offer. What they dont have are
many people to use this power or very good long-distance power lines
to carry it to more promising markets. The grid was never built to be
robust in the midst of wastelands. But these empty, often uninhabit-
able places tend to be where wind and solar power are most effec-
tively produced.
fifth of total coal capacity will be retired between 2012 and 2020, and
even the chief executive of the American Coal Council admits that
the industry has abandoned any plans to replace the retiring fleet.
The recent boom in natural gas, however, seems to legitimate that
industrys claim that it is the perfect transition fuel. For the moment,
its almost as cheap as coal; we have a lot of it, ripe for domestic
exploitation; and it is more efficient for producing electricity because
power plants that run on natural gas are spun first by the raw force
of combustion and then run on steam, giving twice the bang for
the same buck. At first glance, natural gas is also cleaner than coal.
This is certainly true if one is thinking in terms of particulates and
not greenhouse gases or wastewater pollution. Methane emissions
from natural gas development and leaky transport infrastructure,
however, undercut some of the climate advantage gas has over coal.
One 2012 study estimated that if the industry were to let leak only 3.2
percent of the gas produced, it could be worse for the climate than
coal. In most places, leakages are not that bad. In some places they
are worse.
Even nuclear power, which is problematic on many levels, has
gained a new sparkle as green has come to mean carbon-free rather
than pollution-free. They can still melt down, and the problem of
storing the radioactive waste these plants produce has never been
adequately solved. Its hard to figure out how China, for example, can
transition away from a reliance on coal without a significant uptick in
nuclear power development. The cost of these plants means that
anywhere with a market economy has almost entirely stopped building
them, but the technology is being improved. There are a number of
ongoing efforts, globally, to scale nuclear technology way down,
making it portable and mass-producible. If successful we may be
surprised to find nuclear blooming back up on our soil one future day.
Existing ways of making power for our grid involve much more
than the raw fuels we choose between. They are also massive networks
2015 we had three times as much wind power as in 2008 and twenty
times as much solar, these looming plant retirements only further
open the door to renewable technologies, big and small. In Hawaii, at
present, over 12 percent of the houses are equipped with solar
panelsso many that on certain sunny days these home solar systems
produce more electricity than the state needs.
In the summer of 2015, Hawaiis utility began refusing further
connections by home solar owners to the grid. Not because they are
mean-spirited, but because they cant use it all, and excess power on
the grid causes bits of it to shut down self-protectivelya measure that
spares the infrastructure but blacks out its users. The same was
happening in Vermont, which is saying something, because Hawaii
might have a lovely climate for solar power, but Vermont is both
northern and gray. Nevertheless, its two largest utilities had, for much
of 2015, also called for a hiatus on new grid connections for home solar
systems as these were causing the bills of their customers without
home solar to rise precipitously. Until something infrastructural, in
some cases, and fiscal in others must be done to deal with all the
homemade electricity being pumped into the grid during daytime
hours on sunny days, both states will be sticking with a baseline of
fossil fuels despite the fact that both would openly and honestly prefer
a greener route.
This reveals another curious thing about our grid: though it may be
big, it is also intensely local. For example, right now, variable genera-
tion is producing only a tiny portion of the electricity used in this
country, about 7 percent overall. But in some places this number is
much higher. In Texas, wind power alone accounts for 9 percent of
electricity production, in Oregon its almost 13 percent, and in Iowa
its a stunning 30 percent. There is so much wind in some places in
the United States right now that on particularly blustery days, the
local balancing authoritycharged with making sure the amount of
electricity going into the grid and the amount being drawn from it are
exactly the samehas to pay some of the wind farms to shut down
their turbines and also pay large industrial concerns to take and use
more power than they actually need. In Texas, one blustery September
day in 2015, the price per megawatt-hour of electricity dropped to
negative 64. The utilities were actually paying their customers to use
power. Everything has gone a bit topsy-turvy.
By 2025 the Department of Energy wants 25 percent of Americas
electricity to come from renewables. It sounds like a pipe dream,
until you consider that between 2009 and 2014 the amount of renew-
able power traveling the lines of our grid has more than doubled. And
this federal goal is actually rather lightweight when compared to
certain state efforts. Maine is aiming for 40 percent by 2017, California
for 50 percent by 2030and these numbers dont even include the
electricity made from rooftop solar systems. Vermont, ever the tiny
optimist, has a goal of 75 percent by 2032. Hawaii is aiming for 100
percent. These are not impossible objectives, but they will require us
to utterly reimagine our grid.
At issue is that when these goals are set, the grid rarely enters
the larger conversation. At times it is almost as if it doesnt exist.
We allyou and I, our state and federal legislators, our business
leaders and upstart entrepreneurs, even the world climate change
expertswe just dream our dreams, run our coffee machines, take
our snapshots of fine sunsets, and set our exaggerated goals for
the future without ever seeing that between us and everything
we envision stands this technological monument to recalcitrance.
The grid is there. Its time we learned to notice it so that we, hand
in hand with its momentous complexity, can step forward into a
brighter day, a brighter night, and a cooler, less storm-muddled
planetary future.
Though we tend think about the grid in ways borrowed from the
physics of water pipes that hold, transport, and deliver drinking water
or those of natural gas fuel lines that bring methane to stovetops and
hot water heaters, this is not in the least how electricity works. The
lines are not hollow with electricity inside them, they are solid through
and through. Nor does electricity flow, trickle, or drip. It is not a
liquid or a gas subject to the laws of fluid dynamics; its a force. We
make itwhich is already pretty awesomeby breaking electrons
free from their atoms (at the power plant) and then allowing these to
bump into their next nearest atomic neighbor, dislodging their elec-
trons, and allowing these to bump along to the next. Some metals, at
the atomic level, make this process of dislodging electrons from atoms
easy, and these are the metals we use to build conductors (power
lines). The lines, in turn, play material host to this atomic domino
effect that moves at roughly the speed of light. Though this tumble of
electrons is the fastest thing in our known world, actual atomic drift is
only about .05 inches per second, or roughly the speed of cold honey.
To human eyes, all this action at the atomic level looks like static, cool
metal, but this is the falsest of views. The electricity we make and use
every day is effectively inseparable from the wires of the grid. And yet
the product chains weve designed to make (and make money off of)
electricity, ignore the ways in which electricity and its infrastructure
are different from all other kinds of products. This has become even
more the case since legislation passed in the early 1990s effectively
made electrons and, say, bananas identical objects from the markets
point of view. Never mind that electricity has so little in common with
a banana that the two might as well have originated in different
physical universeswe now treat and trade them in an almost iden-
tical way.
We can touch a banana, box it, even let it sit awhile if the price is
not right for sale. We can engage people to grow a banana and then
not buy it from them. We can charge a specific price for a banana that
customers can know and judge before they purchase it, and if they
find one brand, variety, or color of banana less appealing than another,
they can choose to buy a different one. Preferences matter to supply
and demand, and the possibility of choosing from a limited selection
of bananas has become part of what defines the product and also what
makes it workand make sensewithin our economic system.
Electricity is not like this, ever. It cannot be boxed or stored or
shipped. It is always used the same instant it is made, even if the
person using it is a thousand miles from the source. If electricity is
made, its shipped; if its shipped, its used. And all of this happens in
the same singular millisecond.
For our part, consumers, who know very well what a banana is and
what a dollar is and how the two kinds of things stand in relationship
to each other, rarely have any real sense of what a kilowatt-hour is,
how much it should cost, how many we are using, and how much we
might be paying for them. To complicate matters further, the utilities
are essentially state-supported monopolies, making the electricity
business like a store where everyone within a certain area is obliged
to shop. At this store no prices are listed on individual items (these
unlisted prices are also subject to change without notice), and at the
end of the month, shoppers are issued a single bill for the entire
months worth of purchases. Without specific information, one study
showed, consumers of electricity have a hard time estimating the
costs and benefits of their actions. This is part of why we pay elec-
tricity no mind. Understanding it means understanding the grid, and
both function according to terms beyond the scope of daily life.
Yet because the electricity we depend so heavily upon cannot be
separated from its infrastructure, we cannot reform our energy system
without also transforming our grid. There can be no electric power
without all the machines and wires that make it, make it safe, and trans-
late it across our great nation into our lightbulbs, toasters, and air-
conditioning machines. We also have to pay for this system, something
The grids current shape has a lot to do with the specifics of its tech-
nological and business history. No stranger to chaos, in its earliest
days Americas electric grid grew haphazardly, not radiating out from
one imaginary center point but spreading instead like a pox, appearing
only in spots with dense enough populations to ensure a profit. This is
why for its first half century, electricity was largely an urban phenom-
enon. That finally changed during the Great Depression, when the
government intervened and brought the grid and electricity to the
rural folks whom capitalism would have happily left behind.
Despite the absence of an overarching plan and only occasional
intervention on the part of state and federal governments, the grid
quickly grew in both size and complexity. And though it has been
upgraded periodically as technological developments have leapt
forward, these upgrades have been evolutionary, not revolutionary;
every improvement has had to mesh with the existing system. No
advance could be made in one place that couldnt accommodate
weaknesses somewhere else down the line. Little by little, this build
here, that reform there, developed into the grid we have: it is a
Decades passed. And time transformed the system the Lovinses had
labeled weak and brittle into an even more fragile version of itself.
And then the inevitable happened.
In the early years of the new millennium, the grid finally began to
break; its business model cracked open as much as its copper and
cement were worn down. California suffered blackouts so severe the
governor declared a state of emergency and one of its major utilities
filed for bankruptcy (the first for a large utility since the Depression).
Then a nuclear power plant in Vermont toppled over. It literally fell
down; its support structure had rotted right through. Not because it
hadnt been subject to regular maintenance and inspection, but
because all the cameras set to watch the infrastructure age were
pointed elsewhere and the maintenance checklists didnt include the
beams that held the cooling tower up. Bits of the Pacific Northwests
corner of the grid started to crash not two or three times a winteras
had long been the casebut two or three times a month. The local
storms have a whole new kind of blow to them. Texas watched help-
lessly as its grid went down again and again, the blame falling on
excessive air-conditioner usage. The White House even lost power,
not once but twice during the Bush years (and twice since!).
The Executive Branch, in 2013, finally admitted that grid resil-
ience is increasingly important as climate change increases the
frequency and intensity of severe weather, promising that Americans
can expect more severe hurricanes, winter storms, heat waves, floods
and other extreme weather events being among the changes in
climate induced by anthropogenic emissions of greenhouse gasses.
Big storms, and other weather weirdnesses, have ironically become
one of the main drivers of contemporary grid reform, but in the
least efficient way imaginable. We use fossil fuels, including natural
gas, to make electricity, the chemical pollution from these contrib-
utes massively to global warming, global warming makes for more
ferocious storms, and these storms swoop in and decimate the grid.
This destruction prompts people to think about ways that the grid
might be made harder to destroy. Occasionally they take action on
these thoughts and some small element of our infrastructure gets
changed. If our aim is to prompt infrastructural reform that will
work for us over the long term, then this absurdist loop is clearly the
least efficient and most destructive route possible. And yet it is
the one we take.
Our grid, its form, and the way this fits into modern life is holding
us back from our energy futurenot just from the introduction of
sustainable sources of electrical generation but also from meaningful
conservation and, most important, from energy independence. By
this I do not mean just that we might be free from the vagaries of
Middle Eastern oil (or British drilling companies or our own mining
conglomerates), though this, too, has its benefits, but also that we
stand on the brink of a new kind of energy independence: the type
that comes from being able to make our own energy decisions as
individuals, households, neighborhoods, or towns. The scale of our
infrastructure is changing and people, in the process, matter more.
Almost anything that can be subdivided is being cut up into smaller
and smaller parts. Individuals, small businesses, towns, and counties
are developing the means to stamp their feet, vote with their pocket-
books, and be heard. This was already true yesterday and it will be
even more true tomorrow.
The U.S. military, for one, is unable to tolerate even the tiniest of
voltage fluctuations (these make computers behave as if they have
been possessed by demons, and they are common on Americas grid)
or risk physical attacks on unsecured public infrastructure. As a result
the military is in the process of converting all their domestic bases to
microgrids. Google is doing the same for its headquarters and data
centers, as are the states of Connecticut and New York for their
towns. New York alone is in the process of constructing eighty-three
new microgrids. Others, including CitiBank, Businessweek, and the