Pacific Gas and Electric (PG&E) provides power to most of California and is one of the largest energy companies in the United States. However, PG&E’s equipment has been linked to several major wildfires, including two of the worst in the state’s history.

In November 2018, the Camp Fire—the deadliest fire in the state’s history—killed at least 86 people and destroyed 14,000 homes. The California Public Utilities Commission’s Safety and Enforcement Division (SED) report on the fire blamed poor maintenance practices at a PG&E tower. The C-hooks meant to support an insulator assembly showed “significant wear that was not detected as part of PG&E’s transmission infrastructure patrol and inspection program,” according to the SED. One of the C-hooks failed, causing the assembly to fall to the ground and start the fire.

READ MORE: Exxon Knew Its Fuels Cause Climate Change Since 1977 & It Did Nothing

The state’s second-largest wildfire, the 2021 Dixie Fire, was also the result of PG&E equipment, CNN reported. Investigators said the fire started when PG&E power lines came into contact with a tree. At the time, the power company said that over 8 million trees were close enough to power lines that they could come in contact. In response, PG&E promised to bury 10,000 miles of power lines. Another fire, the 2020 Zogg Fire, was also started by a tree coming into contact with power lines, and PG&E’s lines were also linked to the 2019 Kincade Fire.

Though there have been a number of major fires in years past, experts predict that 2023 will be an average year for wildfires due to a wet winter, according to KGO.

“We shouldn’t expect large fires in July which is different than previous years,” said Dr. Craig Clements, Director of the San Jose State University Wildfire Research Center, told the station, but warned that fire danger will increase in the autumn, as it’s the “driest time of year.”

In addition to the money earmarked for the power grid, Biden is also expected to announce $575 million in funding for a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) project devoted to helping communities on the nation’s coasts as the severity of major storms increases.

California, Arizona, and Nevada on Monday struck a deal with the Biden administration in which the states agreed to take less water from the dangerously overdrawn Colorado River—an agreement cautiously welcomed by conservationists, who warned that the cuts are insufficient to stabilize a system upon which tens of millions of people rely.

Monday's breakthrough agreement follows nearly a year of negotiations and missed deadlines and involves the Biden administration, the three states, Indigenous tribes, water management districts, and agribusinesses. Under the plan, the federal government will distribute around $1.2 billion worth of Inflation Reduction Act funds to cities, tribes, and water districts if they cut back on water use. The three states agreed to use 3 million acre-feet less water between them by the end of 2026. This would amount to 13% of their total Colorado River allocation.

"There are 40 million people, seven states, and 30 tribal nations who rely on the Colorado River Basin for basic services such as drinking water and electricity," U.S. Interior Secretary Deb Haaland said in a statement. "Today's announcement is a testament to the Biden-Harris administration's commitment to working with states, tribes, and communities throughout the West to find consensus solutions in the face of climate change and sustained drought."

Last August, amid extreme drought driven by the climate emergency and warnings of a possible "catastrophic collapse" of the Colorado River, the U.S. Interior Department announced the first-ever tier 2 shortage for the waterway, triggering water-use cuts in Arizona, Nevada, and the country of Mexico for 2023.

U.S. Bureau of Reclamation Commissioner Camille Calimlim Touton called the agreement "an important step forward towards our shared goal of forging a sustainable path for the basin that millions of people call home."

"From here, our work must continue to take action and address the long-term issues of climate change and overallocation to ensure we have a sustainable Colorado River for all who rely upon it," Hobbs added.

Luke Runyon, president of the Society of Environmental Journalists, noted on Twitter that "the agreed-to cuts are significantly less than what federal scientists and officials had said were necessary to stabilize the river system on which tens of millions in the Southwest rely."

John Entsminger, general manager of the Southern Nevada Water Authority, toldE&E News that "the plan set forth by the Lower Basin states is not a panacea for the river, but rather a consensus solution that will help manage near-term water demands while serving as a bridge to negotiate the post-2026 operating criteria."

"The Colorado River Basin has a warmer and drier future ahead and reducing water use, increasing water efficiency, and maximizing water recycling and reuse is paramount to a sustainable future for the 40 million people that depend upon this critical water supply," he added.

As Common Dreams reported last month, advocacy groups including Food & Water Watch also criticized proposed deals between the administration and states for failing to address the overexploitation of water resources by corporate agriculture and fossil fuel companies.

While unusually heavy snowfall and subsequent spring meltwater have helped temporarily avert what experts warned last year could be a "doomsday scenario" for the Colorado River Basin in 2023, the vital waterway remains in danger of running too low to provide enough water for all who rely upon it.

The Colorado River historically ran about 1,450 miles from its headwaters high in the Rocky Mountains of northern Colorado into Utah, through the Grand Canyon in Arizona, and then along Nevada and California's southeastern borders before flowing into the northernmost tip of the Gulf of California in Mexico.

The river—which is an oasis in the unforgiving desert that surrounds it for much of its course—long sustained Indigenous peoples both before and after the genocidal colonization of the Southwest, and since the U.S. conquered the region from Mexico it has been a lifeline for American settlers and cities as well as Native tribes.

Western states began dividing the river's water between them around a century ago, and throughout the 20th century, massive dams and channels diverted water hundreds of miles away to sprawling, thirsty farms on previously desert lands and to rapidly expanding cities like Los Angeles, Phoenix, San Diego, and Las Vegas.

Under the Colorado River Compact, states sidestepped Indigenous tribes and agreed to annual water allocations that they must use in full or face usage-based cuts the following year. This "use it or lose it" system has created what critics call "perverse" incentives for farmers to grow water-intensive crops in the desert.

Today, around three-quarters of the river's flow is siphoned off to irrigate more than five million acres of farmland, according to the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. Hydroelectric plants along the Colorado also generate more than 12 billion kilowatt hours of electricity annually.

The river has been running especially low in recent decades as worsening droughts driven by the climate emergency have gripped the Southwest and as the population of the nation's driest region explodes. The Colorado no longer empties into the sea, and models predict that by the year 2100 its flow could be further reduced by more than half.

"The only way to solve the long-term shortage on the Colorado River is to take a lot less water out of the system," environmental and resource economist Nick Hagerty stressed in reaction to Monday's announcement. "Which necessarily means permanent reductions in crops grown. That's where the focus needs to be."

The U.S. climate movement and people on the frontlines of the planetary crisis celebrated Thursday after the U.S. Senate declined to add Sen. Joe Manchin's fossil fuel-friendly permitting bill to a military spending package.

While the $858 billion National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) was ultimately approved, the West Virginia Democrat's amendment fell short of the 60 votes needed to include his Building American Energy Security Act.

The 47-47 vote Thursday evening came after two earlier defeats: The bill was left out of the NDAA draft last week; and in September, Manchin asked Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.)—who agreed to push through permitting reforms if Manchin voted for the Inflation Reduction Act—to remove a previous version from stopgap funding legislation.

"Defeated for the third time this year, this zombie bill would have fast-tracked dangerous fossil fuel and mining projects that would undercut the positive impacts of the Inflation Reduction Act," explained Chelsea Hodgkins, Oxfam America's climate policy adviser. "Sen. Manchin's proposal would do nothing to address the real barriers to renewable energy development, which include fully resourcing underfunded agencies and investing in community-supported renewable systems."

"Continued reliance on fossil fuels is making communities in the U.S. sick and driving climate change impacts in communities around the world," she stressed. "Sen. Manchin's dirty deal had absolutely no place in a must-pass bill like the National Defense Authorization Act; it is unpopular and dangerous."

Matt Casale, environment campaigns director for U.S. PIRG, argued that "it's already too easy to get permits to pollute."

"If it were harder to permit polluting projects, we could have less asthma, cleaner drinking water, and a more stable climate," he said. "The last thing we should do is allow more destructive, polluting, and dangerous projects such as oil pipelines to be easily approved without fully considering the damage they could cause to our health and climate. Thank you to all the senators who voted against this amendment."

Several campaigners not only praised the senators who opposed Manchin's amendment but also called out those who supported it.

"We are thrilled that Manchin's push to get his Big Oil wish list attached to must-pass legislation has failed for the third time," said Ariel Moger, government and political affairs director at Friends of the Earth. "Leader Schumer and Democrats who voted for the dirty deal should be ashamed of themselves."

"It is appalling that they are willing to sacrifice frontline communities and the climate to appease Manchin and corporate polluters," she charged. "Democratic leadership owes a swift apology to those suffering from environmental racism and climate change impacts for insisting this deal ever see the light of day."

"The people have triumphed over the polluters once again," said People vs. Fossil Fuels, a national coalition of over 1,200 organizations. "Sen. Manchin's dirty deal was a direct assault on frontline communities and the environmental laws that protect our air, water, climate, and public health."

"But we know this fight isn't over: The fossil fuel industry and the politicians in their pocket will continue to try and rubber-stamp more dangerous fossil fuel projects," the coalition continued. "Wherever they go, we'll be there to stop them."

Collin Rees of Oil Change International declared: "Good riddance to Manchin's dirty deal—the Senate's rejection of this dangerous bill is a resounding win for environmental justice communities and the climate. We've stopped this zombie bill three times and we'll do it as many times as needed."

Crystal Mello, an organizer with the Protect Our Water, Heritage, Rights Coalition, delivered a similar message: "Every time we defeat Manchin's dirty deal, it gets weaker. This isn't the end of the fight because Manchin will continue to endanger our lives for his profit by trying to pass fossil-fueled legislation. We will continue to fight this dirty deal until it is defeated because our future is at stake."

Mello also had a message for President Joe Biden, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), Schumer, and all other members of Congress who have supported Manchin's effort: "Wake up and back frontline communities as we continue to fight this bad bill."

Food & Water Watch policy director Jim Walsh said that "it's time for Sen. Schumer to realize that fast-tracking a dirty backroom deal on behalf of the fossil fuel industry is a political loser and a climate disaster. Instead of looking to rush through favors for corporate polluters, lawmakers should turn their attention to real solutions that promote clean energy and protect our climate future."

Ahead of the vote, Biden on Thursday reiterated his support for Manchin's proposal, provoking widespread outrage.

"The dirty deal directly contradicts President Biden's climate plan and his rhetoric about environmental justice," People vs. Fossil Fuels said after the vote. "President Biden needs to listen to communities, not Big Oil CEOs, and use his power to reject all fossil fuel projects and declare a climate emergency, and we will continue to demand that he protects our public interest and follows through."

Rees asserted that "President Biden's strong support of this deadly legislation is a deep stain on his climate legacy."

"We'll keep standing with communities on the frontlines," he vowed, "to stop the Mountain Valley Pipeline once and for all, oppose fossil fuel expansion and sacrifice zones, and build a just renewable energy future."

Think of it this way: what we don't know will hurt us. And water — yes, water — is an example of just that. Even at a time of such angry political disputes, you might imagine that, in a wealthy country like the United States, it would still be possible to agree that clean water should be not just a right, but a given. Well, welcome to America 2021.

When it comes to basic water supplies, that's hardly an outlandish thought. After all, back in 2015, our government, along with other members of the United Nations, embraced the U.N.'s Sustainable Development Goals, the sixth of which is universal access to safe drinking water. Despite modest progress globally — 71% of the world's population lacked that simple necessity then, "only" 61% today — nearly 900 million people still don't have it. Of course, the overwhelming majority of them live in the poorest countries on this planet.

The United States, however, has the world's largest economy, the fifth-highest per-capita income, and is a technological powerhouse. How, then, could the American Society of Civil Engineers (ASCE) have given our water infrastructure (pipes, pumping stations, reservoirs, and purification and recycling facilities) a shocking C- grade in their 2021 "report card"? How to explain why Yale University's Environmental Performance Index ranked the U.S. only 26th globally when it comes to the quality of its drinking water and sanitation?

Worse yet, two million Americans still have no running water and indoor plumbing. Native Americans are 19 times more likely to lack this rudimentary amenity than Whites; Latinos and African Americans, twice as likely. On average, Americans use 82 gallons of water daily; Navajos, seven — or the equivalent of about five flushes of a toilet. Moreover, many Native Americans must drive miles to fetch fresh water, making regular handwashing, a basic precaution during the Covid-19 pandemic, just one more hardship.

"Safe" Water

Washington and Philadelphia are just two of the many American cities whose water-distribution systems, some of them wooden, contain pipes that predate the Civil War. Naturally, time has taken its toll. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) reports that water mains, especially such old ones, rupture 240,000 times annually, while "trillions of gallons" of potable water worth $2.6 billion seep from leaky pipes, and "billions of gallons of raw sewage" pollute the surface water that provides 61% of our supply. Fixing busted pipes, which break at the rate of one every two minutes nationally, has cost nearly $70 billion since 2000.

The U.S. has 2.2 million miles of waterpipes, which are, on average, 45 years old. The EPA's 2015 estimate for overhauling such an aging system of piping was $473 billion, or $23.7 billion annually over 20 years — in other words, anything but chump change. Still, compared to the way Congress allots money to the U.S. military for its endless losing wars and eternal build-ups of weaponry, it couldn't be more modest. After all, the Pentagon's latest budget request was for $715 billion, to which the House Armed Services Committee added $25.5 billion, unsolicited, as did its Senate counterpart. Self-styled congressional budget hawks never complain about our military spending, even though it exceeds that of the next 11 countries combined. So, $23.7 billion annually to renovate an antediluvian water system? That shouldn't be a problem, right?

It turns out, though, that it is. The federal government's share of total investment in updating water infrastructure plunged from nearly-two-thirds in 1977 to less than a tenth of that by 2019. With state and local governments under increasing financial pressure, the funding shortfall for modernizing the water infrastructure could reach a staggering $434 billion by 2029.

Considering where the American water system already falls utterly short, a contrarian could counter that it's not a big deal for a mere two million people in a country of 333 million not to have water directly piped into their homes. But in the wealthiest country on earth? Really? And a lack of easy access to water is hardly the only problem. A substantial number of Americans are drinking (and cooking with) contaminated supplies of it. A 2017 investigation found that 63 million of them had done so at least once during the previous 10 years, or nearly a fifth of the population.

This finding wasn't an outlier. The Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) discovered that, "in 2015 alone, there were more than 80,000 reported violations of the Safe Water Drinking Act by community water systems" that served nearly 77 million people. And of the total number of violations, 12,000, traced to water providers serving 27 million people, were health-related (rather than monitoring and reporting infractions). There's more. A study in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences concluded that 21 million consumers received water that didn't meet federal standards; and Time reported that 30 million did in 2019.

The Flint Saga and Beyond

Occasionally, stories about unsafe drinking water do make the headlines, as happened with Flint, Michigan. Once a prosperous city, Flint was slammed by a post-1970s wave of de-industrialization in the Midwest and now has a poverty rate of nearly 39% (and 54% of its population is Black). By 2013, facing its massive budget deficit, a commission appointed by the governor devised a cost-saving measure. The city's water supply would be switched to the Flint River, pending construction of new supply lines from Lake Huron. That river, however, had long been contaminated by waste from factories, paper mills, and meatpacking plants along its shore, as well as untreated sewage.

Residents began complaining that their water smelled and tasted bad, but were regularly reassured that it was safe. Testing, however, revealed lead levels that far exceeded the EPA-stipulated maximum because the water hadn't been treated with anti-corrosion additives to counter contamination. (There is, in fact, no "safe" level for lead, a toxic metal, but the EPA requires remedial action if 10% of water samples show concentrations exceeding 15 ppb, or parts per billion.) Flint's water also contained trihalomethane, a carcinogen, as well as dangerous E. coli and legionella bacteria. A scandal ensued.

Flint, as it turned out, wasn't alone. The NRDC reported this year that "dozens of cities have been found to have dangerous levels of elevated lead" in their water. Another of its studies concluded that the drinking water of 186 million people (56% of Americans) had more than one part per billion of lead, the maximum recommended by the American Academy of Pediatrics, and that 61 million Americans used bottled water from sources that exceeded the Food and Drug Administration's five ppb maximum, while lead levels in the water of seven million others exceeded the 15-ppb EPA threshold for mandatory corrective measures.

In 1986, Congress banned the future use of pipes that weren't "lead free," but didn't require the replacement of existing ones. Even today, as many as 12 million lead pipes still serve households in this country and scientists generally regard the EPA's lead limit as far too lax and its testing requirements and reporting standards as too permissive. Perhaps you won't be surprised to learn that local governments and utility companies have regularly opposed tougher regulations for lead-pipe replacement.

Eliminating lead water pipes entirely in this country would cost up to $50 billion. Though that's a lot of money, it's hardly unaffordable. In fact, the American Jobs Plan proposed $45 billion for that task, though the separate bipartisan infrastructure bill cut it to $15 billion — again illustrating that penny pinching applies to threats to Americans' day-to-day well-being, but not to our militarized conception of national security.

Other Contaminants

Lead isn't the sole contaminant in our drinking water.

• In farming communities in California's Central Valley and in the San Joaquin Valley, increasing amounts of uranium — associated with kidney damage and a greater risk of cancer — have turned up in the local drinking water, including private wells, which aren't regulated by the EPA, but are used by migrant workers. A 2015 Associated Press investigation found that a quarter of San Joaquin Valley households were then using drinking water from private wells containing "dangerous amounts of uranium." Moreover, one in 10 of the Valley's community water systems contained uranium levels that exceeded federal and state limits — and there's no reason to believe that has changed in the last six years.

• The rise in fertilizer use — fivefold since the 1950s — to boost crop yields and its runoff has increased the nitrate levels in drinking water. High levels of nitrates, which have been linked to various forms of cancer, birth defects, and thyroid disease, have been found in 4,000 public water systems in 10 states supplying 45 million people, especially in the West and Midwest. In more than half of these places, the contamination seems only to be increasing. The EPA's maximum concentration level for nitrates is 10 milligrams per liter, but studies reveal that the risk of birth defects and cancer increase even when people consume water containing half that amount.

• Arsenic, a known carcinogen, is another hazard. A 2020 Columbia University study found that, though the average concentration of arsenic in the water supply, nationwide, fell by 10% between 2006 and 2011, concentrations exceeding the EPA's maximum of 0.01 milligrams per liter were far more likely in smaller communities that use groundwater and are disproportionately Hispanic. A U.S. Geological Survey report, which focused on wells providing drinking water, noted that there were "dangerously high levels of arsenic, potentially exposing 2.1 million people" to health risks in more than half of all states.

• Per- and Polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS) are used in numerous products, including non-stick cookware, pizza boxes, firefighting foam, and waterproof apparel. However, they remain unregulated by the EPA despite being associated with a range of health risks. Worse yet, these "forever chemicals" take thousands of years to break down. Scientists estimate that the tap water of 200 million Americans contains PFAS concentrations that put them at risk.

The Bad News for 2021

Since the early nineteenth century, enormous progress has been made toward providing Americans with abundant, clean water. And water-borne diseases like cholera, which still kills close to 100,000 people worldwide every year, and typhoid, which claims as many as 161,000, have essentially been eliminated in this country (though there are still 16 million annual cases of acute gastroenteritis traceable to contaminated water). So, yes, water in the U.S. is generally fit to drink, but given this country's economic and technological resources, it's scandalous that the problems that remain haven't at least been substantially mitigated.

To understand such a failure, just consider our politics, which, in the wake of recent elections, only seem to be growing worse by the day.

Since the 1980s, the public sphere has been dominated by a narrative that portrays just about anything the government does, other than profligate spending on the U.S. military, as financially reckless, intrusive, and counterproductive. Instead of creating a compelling message to persuade Americans that many valued public benefits, ranging from land grant colleges, the Internet, Social Security, and Medicare to the national highway system and medical research breakthroughs, owe much to government policies, too many Democrats continue to run scared, fearful of being labeled "big-government-tax-and-spend liberals."

Add to this the outsized political influence that big money exercises through copious campaign contributions — all but limitless thanks to recent Supreme Court decisions — and pricey lobbyists. (Yes, unions and public interest groups lobby, too, but for each dollar they spend, corporations spend $34.)

Companies that, for instance, produce perchlorate, a chemical found in U.S. water supplies that's used in rocket fuel and munitions and is harmful to iodine-deficient pregnant women and fetuses, have paid lobbyists to fight stricter regulations for years. Not coincidentally, the EPA, which has been monitoring perchlorate since 2001, has yet to set mandatory limits on it for drinking water, though it continues to consider a "roadmap" for doing so. Similarly, the seven largest producers of PFAS spent $61 million in 2019 and 2020 on campaign contributions and lobbying efforts. In 2018, there were only two firms lobbying against tougher PFAS regulations; a year later that number had increased to 14.

The EPA sets maximum drinking water levels for 90 substances, but hasn't (except in a few instances where Congress mandated that it do so) added more since 1996 even though its "Drinking Water Contaminant Candidate List" now contains nearly 100 additional substances. This shouldn't be a surprise. Companies that oppose tougher regulations have political access and clout. Political appointees to important EPA posts often hail from those very industries or the lobbying groups they bankroll. Scientists paid by industries have weighed in, lending an aura of legitimacy to special-interest pleading.

Water policy is rife with scientific complexity, but the legislation and regulations that shape it are hashed out in the political arena. There, the deck is increasingly stacked — and not in favor of the average consumer. If the Republicans take back Congress in 2022 and the presidency in 2024, my small suggestion: have a nice cool glass of ice water and relax. What could possibly go wrong?

Copyright 2021 Rajan Menon

Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest Dispatch Books, John Feffer's new dystopian novel, Songlands(the final one in his Splinterlands series), Beverly Gologorsky's novel Every Body Has a Story, and Tom Engelhardt's A Nation Unmade by War, as well as Alfred McCoy's In the Shadows of the American Century: The Rise and Decline of U.S. Global Power and John Dower's The Violent American Century: War and Terror Since World War II.

Rajan Menon, a TomDispatch regular, is the Anne and Bernard Spitzer Professor of International Relations at the Powell School, City College of New York, Senior Research Fellow at Columbia University's Saltzman Institute of War and Peace Studies, and a non-resident fellow at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft. He is the author, most recently, of The Conceit of Humanitarian Intervention.

Climate change is making Texas hotter, threatening public health, water supply and the state's infrastructure

"Climate change is making Texas hotter, threatening public health, water supply and the state's infrastructure" was first published by The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan media organization that informs Texans — and engages with them — about public policy, politics, government and statewide issues.

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Climate change has made the Texas heat worse, with less relief as nighttime temperatures warm, a report from the state's climatologist published Thursday found.

Climate data also show that the state is experiencing extreme rainfall — especially in eastern Texas — bigger storm surges as seas rise along the Gulf Coast and more flooding from hurricanes strengthened by a warming ocean, the report says.

Those trends are expected to accelerate in the next 15 years, according to the report, which analyzes extreme weather risks for the state and was last updated in 2019. The report was funded in part by Texas 2036, a nonpartisan economic policy nonprofit group named for the state's upcoming bicentennial.

The average annual temperature in Texas is expected to be 3 degrees warmer by 2036 than the average of the 1950s, the report found. The number of 100-degree days is expected to nearly double compared with 2000-2018, especially in urban areas.

“From here on out, it's going to be very unusual that we ever have a year as mild as a typical year during the 20th century," said John Nielsen-Gammon, the Texas state climatologist who authored the report. “Just about all of them are going to be warmer."

A hotter Texas will threaten public health, squeeze the state's water supply, strain the electric grid and push more species toward extinction, experts told The Texas Tribune.

Nielsen-Gammon said that weather data showed minimum temperatures across the state have rapidly risen in recent years. The entire baseline of temperatures in the state has shifted upward — a trend that is likely to continue to cause problems for the state's aging infrastructure, experts said.

“I was surprised at how strong the upward trend was in the coldest temperatures of the summer," Nielsen-Gammon said. While global temperature analysis had already shown that trend, he said, it is now very clearly happening on the local level in Texas.

Even this year, which was considered a mild year because Texas didn't see temperatures above 100 degrees in much of the state, Nielsen-Gammon said nighttime temperatures stayed warm enough to put 2021 in the top 20% of years with the hottest summer nights on record.

Persistently higher temperatures cause a host of issues for public health. Heat stroke becomes more common, and the number of days and hours each year when it's safe to work outdoors is reduced. In the last decade, 53 workers in Texas have died from a heat stroke, nearly double the number of workers that died in the decade prior, according to an NPR investigation.

Droughts are enhanced, which places even more pressure on the state's rivers and lakes, already strained by a growing population. And pathogens can more easily grow and infiltrate public water systems.

“If you have situations where more parts of the state are pulling from lower reservoirs, rivers that are flowing less and warmer water temperatures, there's a real concern about what pathogens end up in [the water] system," said Gabriel Collins, a Baker Botts fellow in energy and environmental affairs at Rice University.

In Lake Jackson in 2020, a brain-eating amoeba was found in the water supply, which caused the death of a 6-year-old child. Warmer water temperatures caused by climate change could increase the prevalence of such water-borne amoebas, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The combination of higher heat and heavier precipitation in the eastern half of Texas also damages underground water pipes by causing the ground around them to expand and contract more, Collins said. It's likely that Texans will continue to see more frequent interruptions in their water supply as the state warms, he said.

And the state's power grid can be strained during extreme heat when Texans turn up the air conditioning to stay cool. At the same time, higher temperatures make it more difficult for power plants to run as efficiently as they do during normal conditions, decreasing the power supply — and increasing the risk of blackouts.

“We will see more risk of outages due to increased demand," said Juliana Felkner, an assistant professor of architecture at the University of Texas whose research focused on sustainable development and design. “Power plants need water to run, so if there is a lack of water, this makes them less efficient and they generate less electricity."

The Electric Reliability Council of Texas, the state's grid operator, included extreme calculations for heat and drought in its assessment of potential power supply conditions this summer, seeking to “broaden the debate" on making the grid more resilient. After a February winter storm knocked out power to millions of Texans for days, Texas Public Utility commissioners, who oversee the grid, questioned whether the grid could withstand more extreme weather as they looked to improve the grid's operations.

The environment, too, is damaged by persistently higher temperatures. Shaye Wolf, the climate science director for the Center for Biological Diversity, said more species' extinctions can be expected. Many species of lizards, for example, are going extinct in the U.S. and globally because when it gets too hot, they retreat to the shade and can't hunt for food. Each species plays an important role in the local ecosystem, Wolf said, which is important for the safety of humans, not just plants and animals.

“When you destroy the web of life, it not only makes for a lonelier planet, but a more dangerous planet," Wolf said.

Local extinctions, or the disappearance of a species to a specific area but not the globe, are already widespread due to climate change, a 2016 study by University of Arizona researchers found. Among almost 1,000 species surveyed, nearly half of them were locally extinct.

Texans can expect every aspect of public infrastructure to be damaged by the heat brought by climate change, said infrastructure expert Mikhail Chester, associate professor of engineering and the director of the Metis Center for Infrastructure and Sustainable Engineering at Arizona State University. While each individual effect may seem small — a boil water notice here, a broken pipe there — the total effect is a massive public challenge, he said.

“Climate change is slightly shifting everything: It's slightly breaking infrastructure, and it's pushing us beyond what we design things for," Chester said. “When you add all of that up, it's monumental."

Disclosure: Rice University, Texas 2036 and the University of Arizona have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here.

Correction, Oct. 7, 2021: A previous version of the map in this story incorrectly labeled the temperature change in Texas counties between 1975 and 2020. It represents the average increase each decade, not the increase over the entire 45 year period.

This article originally appeared in The Texas Tribune at https://www.texastribune.org/2021/10/07/texas-climate-change-heat-water/.

The Texas Tribune is a member-supported, nonpartisan newsroom informing and engaging Texans on state politics and policy. Learn more at texastribune.org.

We need to wake up to the looming water crisis.

"That's what World Meteorological Organization Secretary-General Petteri Taalas said Tuesday to mark the publication of a new report, which shows that as the fossil fuel-driven climate emergency intensifies floods and droughts, access to clean water is expected to become even more unequal—increasing the importance of sustainable resource management.

2021 State of Climate Services: Water—compiled by the WMO, the weather branch of the United Nations, with input from more than 20 international organizations—finds that most countries are ill-prepared to handle the forecasted surge in what one reporter called "too much and too little water."

The report urges policymakers to "reduce the impacts of water-related disasters" and improve outcomes by swiftly ramping up investments in a variety of solutions, including "better climate services and end-to-end early warning systems."

"The water is draining out of the tub in some places, while it's overflowing in others," Maxx Dilley, director of the WMO Climate Programme, toldInside Climate News. "When scientists were starting to get a handle on what climate change was going to mean, an acceleration of the hydrological cycle was one of the things that was considered likely."

According to the report:

• In the past 20 years, terrestrial water storage—the summation of all water on the land surface and in the subsurface, including soil moisture, snow and ice—has been lost at a rate of 1cm per year;
• In 2018, 2.3 billion people were living in countries under water stress and 3.6 billion people faced inadequate access to water at least one month per year. By 2050, the latter is expected to be more than five billion;
• Meanwhile, water-related hazards have increased in frequency for the past 20 years. Since 2000, flood-related disasters have increased by 134%, and the number and duration of droughts also increased by 29%; and
• Integrated Water Resources Management (IWRM) is vital to achieving long-term social, economic and environmental well-being. But, although most countries have advanced their level of IWRM implementation, 107 countries remain off track to hit the goal of sustainably managing their water resources by 2030.

The United States and Mexico are tussling over their dwindling shared water supplies after years of unprecedented heat and insufficient rainfall.

The Colorado River Basin.

U.S. Geological Survey

Sustained drought on the middle-lower Rio Grande since the mid-1990s means less Mexican water flows to the U.S. The Colorado River Basin, which supplies seven U.S. states and two Mexican states, is also at record low levels.

A 1944 treaty between the U.S. and Mexico governs water relations between the two neighbors. The International Boundary and Water Commission it established to manage the 450,000-square-mile Colorado and Rio Grande basins has done so adroitly, according to our research.

That able management kept U.S.-Mexico water relations mostly conflict-free. But it masked some well-known underlying stresses: a population boom on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border, climate change and aging waterworks.

1944 to 2021

The mostly semiarid U.S.-Mexico border region receives less than 18 inches of annual rainfall, with large areas getting under 12 inches. That's less than half the average annual rainfall in the U.S., which is mainly temperate.

The 1940s, however, were a time of unusual water abundance on the treaty rivers. When American and Mexican engineers drafted the 1944 water treaty, they did not foresee today's prolonged megadrought.

Nor did they anticipate the region's rapid growth. Since 1940 the population of the 10 largest pairs of cities that straddle the U.S.-Mexico border has mushroomed nearly twentyfold, from 560,000 people to some 10 million today.

This growth is powered by a booming, water-dependent manufacturing industry in Mexico that exports products to U.S. markets. Irrigated agriculture, ranching and mining compete with growing cities and expanding industry for scarce water.

Today, there's simply not enough of it to meet demand in the border areas governed by the 1944 treaty.

Three times since 1992 Mexico has fallen short of its five-year commitment to send 1.75 million acre-feet of water across the border to the U.S. Each acre-foot can supply a U.S. family of four for one year.

Water conflicts

In the fall of 2020, crisis erupted in the Rio Grande Valley after years of rising tensions and sustained drought that endanger crops and livestock in both the U.S. and Mexico.

In September 2020, Texas Gov. Greg Abbott declared that “Mexico owes Texas a year's worth of Rio Grande water." The next month, workers in Mexico released water from a dammed portion of Mexico's Río Conchos destined to flow across the border to partially repay Mexico's 345,600-acre-foot water debt to the U.S.

Frustrated farmers and protesters in the Mexican state of Chihuahua clashed with Mexican soldiers sent to protect the workers. A 35-year-old farmer's wife and mother of three was killed.

Mexico also agreed to transfer its stored water at Amistad Dam to the U.S., fulfilling its obligation just three days before its Oct. 25, 2020, deadline. That decision satisfied its water debt to the U.S. under the 1944 treaty but jeopardized the supply of more than a million Mexicans living downstream of Amistad Dam in the Mexican states of Coahuila and Tamaulipas.

The U.S. and Mexico pledged to revisit the treaty's Rio Grande water rules in 2023.

The drought dilemma on the Colorado River is similarly dire. The water level at Lake Mead, a major reservoir for communities in the lower Colorado River Basin, has dropped nearly 70% over 20 years, threatening the water supply of Arizona, California and Nevada.

In 2017, the U.S. and Mexico signed a temporary “shortage-sharing solution." That agreement, forged under the authority of the 1944 treaty, allowed Mexico to store part of its treaty water in U.S. reservoirs upstream.

Saving a strained treaty

Water shortages along the U.S.-Mexico border also threaten the natural environment. As water is channeled to farms and cities, rivers are deprived of the flow necessary to support habitats, fish populations and overall river health.

The 1944 water treaty was silent on conservation. For all its strengths, it simply allocates the water of the Rio Grande and Colorado rivers. It does not contemplate the environmental side of water use.

But the treaty is reasonably elastic, so its members can update it as conditions change. In recent years, conservation organizations and scientists have promoted the environmental and human benefits of restoration. New Colorado River agreements now recognize ecological restoration as part of treaty-based water management.

Environmental projects are underway in the lower Colorado River to help restore the river's delta, emphasizing native vegetation like willows and cottonwoods. These trees provide habitat for such at-risk birds as the yellow-billed cuckoo and the Yuma clapper rail, and for numerous species that migrate along this desolate stretch of the Pacific Flyway.

The Rio Grande Basin.

U.S. Geological Survey

Currently, no such environmental improvements are planned for the Rio Grande.

But other lessons learned on the Colorado are now being applied to the Rio Grande. Recently, Mexico and the U.S. created a permanent binational advisory body for the Rio Grande similar to the one established in 2010 to oversee the health and ecology of the Colorado.

Another recent agreement permits each country to monitor the other's use of Rio Grande water using common diagnostics like Riverware, a dynamic modeling tool for monitoring water storage and flows. Mexico also has agreed to try to use water more efficiently, allowing more of it to flow to the U.S.

Newly created joint teams of experts will study treaty compliance and recommend further changes needed to manage climate-threatened waters along the U.S.-Mexico border sustainably and cooperatively.

Incremental treaty modifications like these could palpably reduce the past year's tensions and revitalize a landmark U.S.-Mexico treaty that's buckling under the enormous strain of climate change.

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Robert Gabriel Varady, Research Professor of Environmental Policy, University of Arizona; Andrea K. Gerlak, Professor, School of Geography, Development and Environment, University of Arizona, and Stephen Paul Mumme, Professor of Political Science, Colorado State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

As the Pacific Northwest and southwestern Canada bake under what's being described as a "once-in-a-millennium" heat dome, green groups on Monday reiterated the need for transformational change to address the climate emergency, while progressive U.S. lawmakers underscored the imperative for any infrastructure legislation to center climate action.

Temperatures exceeded 110 degrees in Portland, Oregon for the second straight day—and the third consecutive record-setting day—on Monday, melting power cables, destroying road surfaces, and causing some homes to shake.

In Seattle, the mercury soared to a record-setting 106 degrees on Monday, with some surrounding areas expected to reach as high as 115 degrees.

On Sunday, the town of Lytton, British Columbia broke Canada's all-time high temperature record, becoming the first place in the country to ever top 45°C (113°F).

As groups including 350 Seattle and Defense Fund PDX mobilized to distribute potentially lifesaving hydration and cooling aid in their communities, they also issued urgent calls for immediate climate action.

Valerie Costa of 350 Seattle said in a statement that the historic heatwave "is terrifying proof that we have to transform business as usual immediately, to stop the damage that we can still stop. Lives all over the world depend on it."

350 Seattle's Emily Johnston added that "people can get air conditioners and then try to forget how wildly abnormal this is... or they can join us in fighting for the immediate transformation that we need."

"Other cities around the world have transformed even in just the last few years, dramatically increasing bike lanes, otherwise shifting land use, and rejecting airport expansion," Johnston added. "Seattle has mostly... made pronouncements. We mean to harness people's energy and anxiety to change that."

Meanwhile, Sunrise Movement PDX called out "legislators in Oregon who claim to be 'acting on climate' who voted yesterday to give the [state] authority to spend hundreds of millions of dollars widening freeways in Clackamas County."

Progressive lawmakers echoed some of climate campaigners' calls and concerns.

Noting Portland's melting power cables, Rep. Earl Blumenauer (D-Ore.) called the heatwave "yet another striking example of why our infrastructure package must center climate action to halt, reverse, mitigate, and prepare for the worst consequences of the climate crisis."

Blumenauer, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.), and Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) in February introduced a bill directing President Joe Biden to declare a national climate emergency and mobilize every resource available to address the crisis.

In a tweet highlighting a Monday rally and march on the White House by the youth-led Sunrise Movement, Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.) asserted that "making sure our planet is habitable for human life is infrastructure" while calling for "a bold package that tackles the climate crisis."

In addition to much of the western part of the continent, much of New England also experienced extreme temperatures on Monday, with heat advisories in effect across the region.

Amid triple-digit heat indexes in Massachusetts, Sen. Ed Markey (D-Mass.) announced he would re-introduce the Preventing Health Emergencies And Temperature-related (HEAT) Illness and Deaths Act "to combat the threat of extreme heat" and "strengthen inter-agency efforts to study and address extreme heat while providing millions of dollars in grants to reduce exposure to extreme heat."

Far-right anti-government activist Ammon Bundy has made national news on multiple occasions, from leading an armed occupation of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Oregon to anti-mask standoffs in Idaho that resulted in extremists converging on a state judge's home.

Now, according to The Sacramento Bee, Bundy and his followers could be about to get involved in another confrontation with the government — this time over water shutoffs in Northern California.

"In the summer of 2001, local farmers and other activists armed with saws and blowtorches breached a chain-link fence and opened the headgates of a federal canal that supplies farmland in Oregon and far Northern California," reported Ryan Sabalow. "Local farmer Grant Knoll was among the activists there that year. The protesters forced the gates open three times but were eventually blocked by U.S. marshals. Now, with a drought just as severe as two decades ago — and with farmers' water again cut off — he's prepared to fight again."

"This spring, he and another farmer, Dan Nielsen, bought the property next to the headgates in Klamath Falls, Ore.," said the report. "They erected a red and white tent surrounded by American flags and protest signs, and they're holding regular gatherings. And they're working with a group with close ties to anti-government activist Ammon Bundy."

According to the report, "Federal water managers have for years struggled to strike a balance between supplying water for farmers while still leaving enough water in Oregon's Upper Klamath Lake to keep two species of endangered suckers from going extinct." However, the government also is obligated to send spurts of water down the canals known as "flushing flows" to maintain the health of local salmon populations local tribes depend on, and amid a drought, they lack the water for even that, let alone to supply farmers with everything they are asking for.

Farmers, however, don't buy the government's explanation, claiming water levels are higher than would exist in a drought.

"Knoll said the Bundy family's fight with the federal government has proven that if activists push back forcefully, the feds will back down," said the report. "Members of the Bundy family and their supporters have been acquitted or mistrials were declared after armed standoffs with federal authorities in Oregon and in Nevada."

You can read more here.

Federal authorities and local law enforcement in Florida are investigating an attempted hack on the water supply at a treatment system in Oldsmar, Fla.

According to the Tampa Bay Times, Pinellas County Sheriff Bob Gualtieri held a press conference on Monday, Feb 8, to discuss the disturbing series of events that transpired on Friday.

Gualtieri revealed hackers had attempted to poison the city's water supply when they "remotely accessed a computer for the city's water treatment system and briefly increased the amount of sodium hydroxide, also known as lye, by a factor of more than 100.":

"The chemical is used in small amounts to control the acidity of water but it's also a corrosive compound commonly found in household cleaning supplies such as liquid drain cleaners."

Despite the attempted poisoning, Gualtieri confirmed that the city's water supply was not impacted thanks to swift actions by a supervisor. At the time, the supervisor was also working remotely and noted the uptick in the concentration level as it was being altered on his computer screen. He acted to counter the dangerous action.

"At no time was there a significant adverse effect on the water being treated," the sheriff said. "Importantly, the public was never in danger."

Oldsmar Mayor Eric Seidel released a statement in response to the water facility's scare as he expressed relief and elation about the city's protocols being effective. "The protocols that we have in place, monitoring protocols, they work — that's the good news," said Seidel. "Even had they not caught them, there's redundancies in the system that would have caught the change in the pH level."

Seidel went on to explain the importance of the sheriff's press conference. According to Seidel, the purpose was simply to make the public aware of what happened. He added, "The important thing is to put everyone on notice. There's a bad actor out there."

Just 10 days after the Biden administration took over, in alignment with the new president's overall blitz strategy, a flabbergasting phalanx of U.S. climate policies have been turned smartly on their heels and are marching toward the future. President Biden has returned the nation to the Paris Agreement, required truth-telling in government reporting, enforced a regulation that government purchases must feed U.S. supply chains rather than imports, terminated the massive giveaway of taxpayer property to coal, oil and gas extractors, restored the integrity of federal climate science, frozen a horde of horrible Trump environmental rollbacks, and even launched a New Deal-style Civilian Climate Corps. All that is already in the rear-view mirror as Biden's team moves on to the deeper work of a clean-energy, decarbonized and more inclusive economy.

Most Americans, who fear climate chaos, embrace clean energy opportunity and welcome American innovation and leadership, should be celebrating — and are. But hold your breath: The good news runs even deeper than this. The striking emphasis that the new administration has given to its "whole government" climate strategy; the repeatedly-noted climate depth of his Cabinet and sub-Cabinet appointees at the Treasury (Janet Yellen), the State Department (John Kerry), economic policy (Brian Deese), the Energy Department (Jennifer Granholm), the Department of Transportation (Pete Buttigieg), and the Department of the Interior (Deb Haaland); along with the breadth of new climate initiatives are only a part of the new administration's commitment to climate progress.

This shock-and -awe launch also reflects an external reality: The Trump administration's dogged march into the past had departed from any semblance of where America was headed. The first wave of climate progress under Biden is almost all "low-hanging fruit," "no regrets" and "we can all unite on this," because Trump's legacy was starkly at war with economic and marketplace reality, not just climate science.

Look at the chorus that has responded to Biden's climate drumbeat. Politico hails "a coalition that ranges from labor unions, anti-fracking activists and racial justice advocates to leaders of Wall Street, the auto industry and the U.S. Chamber of Commerce" as lining up with Biden's broad thrust. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer on MSNBC boasts that his program to phase out internal combustion cars and trucks by 2030 is a winner because he already has the support not only of climate advocates but also of the United Auto Workers, Ford and General Motors.

While the obstacles still cited as lying in Biden's way are substantial, they are almost entirely inside the Beltway, where the powerful influence of fossil fuel-producing states like West Virginia (embodied in Sen. Joe Manchin) and Kentucky (Minority Leader Mitch McConnell) is repeatedly, and appropriately, recited. But what are oil companies, who wield the big fossil fuel stick, actually saying? Yes, they claim Biden is going too far, but almost exclusively in one narrow part of his program, the phase-out of oil, gas and coal extraction on federal lands.

Indeed, the oil industry is actually joining Biden's alliance in its emphasis on tougher drilling and pollution standards for extraction. Advocacy of carbon pricing in some form is also making its way into Houston lobbying memos.

In a deeply polarized Senate, getting legislation of any significance through is indeed going to test the new president's Capitol Hill negotiating chops. But climate is getting so much emphasis in Biden's first two weeks in large part because it has become a less, not more, divisive issue across American society. It's a good place for the new administration to bring the country together, perhaps because the communities that are taking the biggest climate hit — from fires, flooding, storms and energy sector layoffs — are overwhelmingly in regions where Trump, not Biden, came out on top. (A hidden secret is that rural America, which has become the heart of red America, is where storm, drought, fire and flood hit hardest. Miami Beach can afford sea walls. Cedar Rapids needs Uncle Sam to repair its levees.)

Biden's broader coalition — you could also throw in BlackRock, whose CEO, Larry Fink, devoted his annual letter to the urgency of business embracing the climate challenge — emerged even before the November election. Major oil companies had opposed Trump's efforts to block the cleanup of methane from oil and gas drilling. Ford and Volkswagen had partnered with California to undercut the Trump administration's rollbacks of auto emission limits. Most of the biggest power utilities had pledged to cut from 80% to 100% of their current carbon pollution. Sixteen states had persuaded even the deadlocked Congress to commit the U.S. to phasing out climate dangerous HFC refrigerants as part of the pandemic relief bill.

So climate progress is now a powerful American consensus, precisely because we have realized that it is not a matter of sacrifice, but of opportunity; not austerity but prosperity; not American decline but American recovery.

None of this means we can relax. Big coalitions, like convoys, can bog down at the speed of the slowest member. And the biggest looming barrier is that the faster decarbonization races ahead, the greater the risk to workers and communities left behind. While there are lots of good ideas floating around for how to enable fossil-dependent segments of our nation to ride the clean energy wave, most of them remain somewhat uncertain and gauzy — after all, only a year ago we were having trouble getting McConnell to agree to sustain pensions and health care for mineworkers in his own state.

If we don't take more seriously our need to spread the benefits of the clean energy transition to every zip code and every demography, we will blow our best change to make America truly great — for the 21st century.

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The Biden-Harris transition team identified COVID-19, economic recovery, racial equity and climate change as its top priorities. Rivers are the through-line linking all of them. The fact is, healthy rivers can no longer be separated into the "nice-to-have" column of environmental progress. Rivers and streams provide more than 60 percent of our drinking water—and a clear path toward public health, a strong economy, a more just society and greater resilience to the impacts of the climate crisis.

Public Health

Let's begin with COVID-19. More than 16 million Americans have contracted the coronavirus and, tragically, more than 300,000 have died due to the pandemic. While health officials encourage hand-washing to contain the pandemic, at least 2 million Americans are currently living without running water, indoor plumbing or wastewater treatment. Meanwhile, aging water infrastructure is growing increasingly costly for utilities to maintain. That cost is passed along to consumers. The upshot? More than 13 million U.S. households regularly face unaffordable water bills—and, thus, the threat of water shutoffs. Without basic access to clean water, families and entire communities are at a higher risk of contracting and spreading COVID-19.

We have a moral duty to ensure that everyone has access to clean water to help prevent the spread of the coronavirus. Last spring, Congress appropriated more than $4 trillion to jumpstart the economy and bring millions of unemployed Americans back to work. Additional federal assistance—desperately needed—will present a historic opportunity to improve our crumbling infrastructure, which has been grossly underfunded for decades.

A report by my organization, American Rivers, suggests that Congress must invest at least $50 billion "to address the urgent water infrastructure needs associated with COVID-19," including the rising cost of water. This initial boost would allow for the replacement and maintenance of sewers, stormwater infrastructure and water supply facilities.

Economic Recovery

Investing in water infrastructure and healthy rivers also creates jobs. Consider, for example, that every $1 million spent on water infrastructure in the United States generates more than 15 jobs throughout the economy, according to a report by the Value of Water Campaign. Similarly, every "$1 million invested in forest and watershed restoration contracting will generate between 15.7 and 23.8 jobs, depending on the work type," states a working paper released by the Ecosystem Workforce Program, University of Oregon. Healthy rivers also spur tourism and recreation, which many communities rely on for their livelihoods. According to the findings by the Outdoor Industry Association, which have been shared in our report, "Americans participating in watersports and fishing spend over $174 billion on gear and trip related expenses. And, the outdoor watersports and fishing economy supports over 1.5 million jobs nationwide."

After the 2008 financial crisis, Congress invested in infrastructure to put Americans back to work. The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (ARRA) allocated $6 billion for clean water and drinking water infrastructure to decrease unemployment and boost the economy. More specifically, an analysis of ARRA "showed conservation investments generated 15 to 33 jobs per million dollars," and more than doubled the rate of return, according to a letter written in May 2020 by 79 members of Congress, seeking greater funding for restoration and resilience jobs.

Today, when considering how to create work for the 10.7 million people who are currently unemployed, Congress should review previous stimulus investments and build on their successes by embracing major investments in water infrastructure and watershed restoration.

Racial Justice

American Rivers also recommends that Congress dedicate $500 billion for rivers and clean water over the next 10 years—not just for the benefit of our environment and economy, but also to begin to address the United States' history of deeply entrenched racial injustice.

The 23,000-75,000 sewer overflows that occur each year release up to 10 billion gallons of toxic sewageevery day into rivers and streams. This disproportionately impacts communities of color, because, for generations, Black, Indigenous, Latinx and other people of color have been relegated to live in flood-prone areas and in neighborhoods that have been intentionally burdened with a lack of development that degrades people's health and quality of life. In some communities of color, incessant flooding due to stormwater surges or combined sewer overflows has gone unmitigated for decades.

We have historically treated people as separate from rivers and water. We can't do that anymore. Every voice—particularly those of people most directly impacted—must have a loudspeaker and be included in decision-making at the highest levels.

Accordingly, the new administration must diligently invest in projects at the community level that will improve lives in our country's most marginalized communities. We also must go further to ensure that local leaders have a seat at the decision-making table. To this end, the Biden-Harris administration should restore Section 401 of the Clean Water Act, which was undermined by the Trump administration's 2020 regulatory changes. This provision gives states and tribes the authority to decide whether major development projects, such as hydropower and oil and gas projects, move forward.

Climate Resilience

Of course, the menacing shadow looming over it all? Climate change. More than 100 climate-related catastrophes have pummeled the Earth since the pandemic was declared last spring, including the blitzkrieg of megafires, superstorms and heat waves witnessed during the summer of 2020, directly impacting the lives of more than 50 million people globally.

Water and climate scientist Brad Udall often says, "Climate change is water change." In other words, the most obvious and dire impacts of climate change are evidenced in profound changes to our rivers and water resources. You've likely seen it where you live: Floods are more damaging and frequent. Droughts are deeper and longer. Uncertainty is destabilizing industry and lives.

By galvanizing action for healthy rivers and managing our water resources more effectively, we can insure future generations against the consequences of climate change. First, we must safeguard rivers that are still healthy and free-flowing. Second, we must protect land and property against the ravages of flooding. And finally, we must promote policies and practical solutions that take the science of climate disruption into account when planning for increased flooding, water shortage and habitat disruption.

Imagine all that rivers do for us. Most of our towns and cities have a river running through them or flowing nearby. Rivers provide clean drinking water, irrigate crops that provide our food, power our homes and businesses, provide wildlife habitat, and are the lifeblood of the places where we enjoy and explore nature, and where we play and nourish our spirits. Healthy watersheds help mitigate climate change, absorbing and reducing the amount of carbon in the atmosphere. Healthy rivers and floodplains help communities adapt and build resilience in the face of climate change by improving flood protection and providing water supply and quality benefits. Rivers are the cornerstones of healthy, strong communities.

The more than 3 million miles of rivers and streams running across our country are a source of great strength and opportunity. When we invest in healthy rivers and clean water, we can improve our lives. When we invest in rivers, we create jobs and strengthen our economy. When we invest in rivers, we invest in our shared future.

This article first appeared on Truthout and was produced in partnership with Earth | Food | Life, a project of the Independent Media Institute.

Katy Neusteter is the marketing director for American Rivers.