Category Archives: Miami

Dark Money Fights Climate Change (Again)

Craig Pittman is a sensational, award-winning journalist and author who has a wonderful way of speaking truth to power that always makes me smile as I read the sad tales of how our political and industry leaders so often seem to find ways to destroy what’s left of our fragile Florida environment. His latest piece struck a chord with me for many reasons, so much so that I wanted to share it with you.

Nearly a decade ago, when I was attempting to implement a law in the City of South Miami to mandate residential solar power on newly built and materially renovated homes, there were whispers around City Hall of “dark money” being used to fight me and the municipality’s supportive and forward-thinking Mayor, Phil Stoddard. At 16, I’d never heard the term “dark money” before or, for that matter, the idea that “robo-calls” might be used to counter the effort, much less the mayor’s re-election bid, as was actively happening (he went on to win by a wide margin) at the time. It’s an understatement to say that the year I spent working on that law sure was educational and inspirational, especially given the deceptive tactics those fighting justice will use to protect their profits (and pollution).

At one public hearing, for example, a man addressed the City Council from the podium and explained that he did not live in the city but was “thinking” that perhaps one day he might like to live there. He said he worried that requiring solar power in South Miami might increase the cost of buying a home and lead him to want to live elsewhere. His comments immediately struck me as sketchy (much less factually incorrect; solar homes both cost a lot less to operate and have a much higher resale value than non-solar homes). Some years later, that same man was identified in a Miami Herald article as having received “dark money” from a Florida utility in another politically related matter. The good news is that we ultimately passed our mandatory residential solar power law in South Miami and, in the process, made the city the first in our state with such a law and Florida only the second state in the United States with one.

Reading Craig’s recent article about an illogical, short-sighted, new Florida law (HB 1217) that limits local municipalities’ ability to address climate change, an effort that was, you guessed it, laced with more mention of that same “dark money,” took me right back to my own experience with the topic in 2017. Craig’s story is, sadly, an excellent primer on how politics in our state “work” and how industries like fossil fuel firms and electric utilities, to name two, run the state (and its elected leaders) by placing their pollution and profits ahead of citizens and our environment.

Florida Legislature again blocks action on climate change

Soaring gas prices expose legislators’ lies about fossil fuels being cheaper than solar and EVs

Craig Pittman
March 19, 2026 12:05 am

Florida Power & Light is the nation’s largest producer of solar and wind energy, with solar farms like this one called Price Creek near Lake City scattered around the state. But the Legislature has voted to block local governments from pursuing alternative energy sources such as this, instead of using fossil fuels. (Photo via FPL)

I stopped this weekend to gas up our car, and it took longer than usual. The pumping wasn’t the problem. The delay came from securing a big enough bank loan.

In case you’ve been holed up in your bedroom for the past three weeks, the doddering old dude who got elected president in 2024 by promising lower prices and no new wars managed to break both promises at once. On Feb. 28, he launched an attack on Iran, and now gas prices are soaring as fast as a firework on the Fourth of July.

As of Wednesday, AAA says gas cost an average of 3.93 per gallon in Florida, a dollar more than a month ago. Oil industry officials say it’s about to get even worse.

“Gas prices … could potentially reach $5,” the Naples Daily News reported. Or as someone joked on Facebook, fuel costs now break down this way: Regular, “Arm,” Plus, “Leg,” and, for Premium, “Soul.”

Obviously, this is the PERFECT time for the Florida Legislature to force us all to use even more fossil fuels.

That’s right, our duly elected dunderheads passed another law, HB 1217, that requires everyone in Florida to ignore the damage being done by climate change.  

Their target: Counties and cities pledging to cut their greenhouse gas emissions to zero. Such “net-zero” pledges will now be verboten in the “Free” State of Florida, where you’re only free to do, say, and believe the things the state wants you to do, say, and believe.

“The Legislature finds that net zero policies, carbon taxes and assessments, and emission trading programs are detrimental to this state’s energy security and economic interests and inconsistent with the energy policy and the environmental policy of this state,” the bill says.

The Sierra Club calls it “one of the most sweeping and preemptive restrictions on local energy freedom in recent years.”

And it’s all at the behest of one really rich guy.

Paying dramatically more

There was a time, not long ago, when Florida was a leader in battling climate change. That was because no state was facing a greater immediate threat from rising sea levels.

Charlie Crist via his 2016 campaign

This was under Florida’s second Republican governor since 2000, avid boater Charlie Crist. In his first State of the State address in 2007, Crist called climate change “one of the most important issues that we will face this century.”

Crist convened a climate-change summit in Miami that attracted 600 participants. During the summit, he signed a series of executive orders imposing far-reaching changes in the state’s energy policies, such as reducing greenhouse gas emissions to 1990 levels by 2025 and mandating that statewide building codes seek a 15% energy-efficiency increase.

He even persuaded the Legislature to pass a bill — the Florida Climate Protection Act — calling for the state to pursue “market-based solutions” to reduce greenhouse gases. The goal was to set up a cap-and-trade system to limit emissions from power companies and other polluters, but also to create a marketplace through which they could buy or trade credits to go over the limit.

Crist was prodding the state to do all the things that are now being prohibited by HB 1217, things that are being declared “detrimental to this state’s energy security and economic interests.”

We wouldn’t be facing this mess, except Crist chose not to run for reelection, instead pursuing an open U.S. Senate seat that he lost to Marco Rubio. His place as governor was taken by Rick Scott, a wealthy lawyer and retired health care executive.

He not only didn’t want to fight climate change, he didn’t even want to hear the words spoken. Scott gathered up all of Crist’s programs and tossed them in the trash bin behind the Governor’s Mansion. We’ve been going backwards ever since.

Until this bill passed, I thought we’d hit rock bottom in 2024, after we got clobbered by not one but two major hurricanes in a row.

Coast Guardsmen search the Big Bend area for survivors of Helene, via U.S. Coast Guard

When a reporter asked Gov. Ron DeSantis about the role climate change played in making Hurricanes Helene and Milton into more intense storms, DeSantis first attacked the reporter for daring to ask such an impertinent question. Then he claimed, erroneously, that trying to combat climate change would ruin our economy.

“I think you should be more honest about what that would mean for people, taxing them to smithereens, stopping oil and gas, making people pay dramatically more for energy,” he contended. “We would collapse as a country, so this whole idea of climate ideology driving policy, it just factually can’t work.”

Imagine if we could jump in a DeLorean and zoom back to that day. We could warn him that in just two years, we’d be paying “dramatically more for energy” because we were relying on his favored fuels, oil and gas.

Close your eyes

The same year those two hurricanes hit, DeSantis signed into law a bill deleting most mentions of climate change from state law — mentions that had been put in during Crist’s tenure.

In a classic bit of Florida irony, he did this while South Florida was experiencing record high temperatures.

“The heat index rose as high as 109 degrees Fahrenheit in Fort Lauderdale, 107 degrees in Hollywood and Kendall, 105 degrees in Key West and Opa-locka, and 104 degrees in Miami,” WSVN-TV reported.

That’s why I call this the “Close Your Eyes Act.” Pay no attention to the hotter nights, higher storm surges, more intense hurricanes, heavier rain bombs, and sharp increase in mosquito-borne diseases.

Meanwhile, though, Florida voters have expressed an eyes-wide-open interest in both alternative energy sources and saving money. In 2016, a constitutional amendment to provide property tax breaks for people who install solar panels on their homes passed by an overwhelming 73%.

Thus, a lot of local governments continued pursuing solutions dating to the Crist era. That included switching their fleets of vehicles to electric, finding ways to power their buildings with solar panels, and pledging to work toward not emitting any greenhouse gases at all.

The list of local governments that committed to a net-zero future included St. Petersburg, Sarasota, Gainesville, Orlando, Tampa, South Miami, Dunedin, Safety Harbor, Largo, Cocoa, Satellite Beach, and Clearwater.

The specifics varied by locale. In Orlando, for instance, the city has promised to run all its government buildings and vehicles on clean energy by 2030, and to phase out two coal-fired power plants by 2027.

Note that, politically, these towns are all over the map. The mayor of Orlando is a Democrat. The mayor of Safety Harbor is a Republican. Dunedin is the governor’s hometown, for crying out loud.

Can you blame them for pursuing these net-zero goals while state officials stick their heads in the sand? “Emissions” is just a fancy word for “pollution.” These local governments are working toward not producing pollution. That’s a noble thing, isn’t it?

Brooke Alexander via Linkedin

“Local governments are closer to the people than state government,” noted Brooke Alexander of the Sierra Club of Florida. “They passed these goals because people showed up at their meetings and said, ‘We want this.’”

There’s even a Southeast Florida Regional Climate Change Compact, led by Broward, Miami-Dade, Monroe, and Palm Beach counties.

Yet our fine Legislature — which failed to pass a bill banning first cousins from marrying each other — considers this push for clean energy to be a grave threat that must be stopped.

I wondered: Who’s backing this odd and unpopular move? The answer might surprise you.

Lapses in logic

HB 1217 was sponsored by Rep. Berny Jacques. An attorney in Seminole, Jacques is a Haitian immigrant AND a member of the political party led by two politicians who falsely claimed Haitian immigrants are eating people’s cats and dogs.

Rep. Bemy Jacques via campaign website

Jacques chairs the House Intergovernmental Affairs Subcommittee, so I watched the subcommittee’s Feb. 12 meeting during which he had to explain his bill. He focused on the financial aspect and never mentioned climate, sea level rise, or hurricanes.

“When you have these types of financial burdens, it makes things more costly,” Jacques told his colleagues. “That is what this bill is trying to prevent.”

Rep. Ashley Gantt, a Miami-Dade Democrat, asked Jacques to name somewhere in the state where net-zero pledges were causing such problems. He couldn’t. Yet he insisted it was a big danger.

Rep. Allison Gantt via Florida House

“This can become a much more costly situation when you limit it to one particular product,” Jacques said. He failed to explain how fuel from the sun, which is free, could be more expensive than gasoline, which is not.

Despite the obvious lapses of logic in Jacques’ argument, his bill still passed by a vote of 11-4 and went on to success in the full House and Senate.

One of the nifty things about our Legislature is that the website for reading over the bills  also includes a listing of the lobbyists who have signed up to talk about them.

When I clicked on the link for Jacques’ bill, I saw a lot of people and organizations opposed to it — environmental groups, local government officials, and groups like the Florida League of Cities. There were also a number of utilities.

That list included Florida Power & Light, America’s largest electric utility. Since 2009, its parent company has been the largest producer of solar and wind energy in the nation.

“FPL operates dozens of solar energy centers across the Sunshine State, each of which quietly generates clean, American-made energy for Floridians,” the company’s website boasts.

Usually, whatever FPL wants from the Legislature, it gets. But not this time.

Lined up on the other side, supporting the bill, was one entity and only one: Americans for Prosperity — or as I call ’em, “Americans for One Guy’s Prosperity.”

Driving up the cost

AFP is a dark-money group co-founded by Wichita oilman Charles Koch, long a purveyor of climate change denial.

Charles Koch via the Charles Koch Foundation

The fact that he’s worth around $75 billion should tell you how he’s able to have so much influence on our politicians. AFP spent $157 million on campaigns in just 2024, at least $1,000 of which went to Jacques.

In 2021, AFP’s longtime president stepped down after word got around that he was having an extramarital affair with a Virginia Republican official. Meanwhile, the organization quietly settled a lawsuit alleging gender discrimination and retaliation in its North Carolina branch.

Nevertheless, AFP is still thriving here in Florida. In fact, its state director, Skylar Zander, wrote a piece for Florida Politics four months ago headlined, “Hidden climate taxes hurt Florida families, small businesses.”

Skylar Zander via Linkedin

I don’t want to say the piece was entirely fact-free, but the last time I saw something containing this much fertilizer, it was a bag labeled “TruGreen.” There was nary a mention of any location in Florida where pursuing net-zero emissions was weighing down everyone’s taxes.

“When the government drives up the cost of energy,” Zander warned, “families pay more in utilities, at the gas pump and at the grocery store.”

 Gee, when the government drives up the cost of energy — that sounds bad! You mean like when the U.S. government attacks Iran? That’s sure driven up the cost of energy.

Maybe the smart move here, Mr. Z, would be to stop relying on particularly volatile energy sources like fossil fuels.

What will Ron D do?

The big question now is what DeSantis will do with this bill once it lands on his desk. Although he’s said he accepts that climate change exists, he’s been no fan of fighting it.

I asked Alexander if he might veto it, and she said, “We can dream.”

Occasionally, though, DeSantis surprises everyone.

Take what happened in 2022. At the behest of FPL, the Legislature passed a bill that would have killed the practice of net-metering, which allows residential solar customers to sell energy back to the power companies.

DeSantis vetoed the bill. He insisted he did it because of the cost involved, not because he’s got any deep love for solar power. But he’d also been bombarded with letters from voters pleading with him to thwart FPL’s plans.

A similar campaign this time might work if participants make sure to be complimentary. Don’t mention his failed presidential campaign, his Hope Florida scandal, or his white boots.

Instead, they might want to play up the cost involved, telling the governor that looking to fossil fuels to power everything we need is an idea that’s clearly run out of gas.

You can read Craig’s excellent work by subscribing (for free) to the independent investigative news site Florida Phoenix here (https://floridaphoenix.com/). And speaking of something sad, especially in a place that “used” to be known as the “Sunshine State,” I’d suggest you sign up before heading to the gas pump to fill up in a state (and country) so intent on demanding fossil fuels pollute our atmosphere and oceans (err, I mean power our society).

The Belém Blues: What COP30 Delivered (And What It Absolutely Didn’t)

Stepping off the plane last night, I still felt the faint trace of Amazon humidity clinging to my skin, as if the rainforest hadn’t quite let me go. It’s strange; I went to COP30 with the weight of Palau, who I represented, in my hands, and I came home with the weight of the world on my heart. Belém was verdant, alive, vast, a city perched between river and forest, between ancient ecological wisdom and urgent planetary crisis. It was the perfect place to host a climate conference that demanded courage.

And yet, as always, what we needed and what we achieved were not always the same.

Much like Miami, the air both inside the negotiating rooms and outside in the sweltering heat was thick with urgency. Though now, I have swapped the deep green pulse of the Amazon rainforest for our own salty, humid reality back here in Miami and have been reflecting on what COP30 accomplished, what it didn’t, what it all means for South Florida, and what’s next.

What COP30 Accomplished

For those of us living on the front lines of sea level rise and monster storms, the big wins were all about survival and fairness.

1. A Stronger Global Mitigation Pledge

For the first time, nearly every major emitter agreed to submit enhanced 2035 Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) by next year (2026), and to align those targets with the 1.5°C pathway. This is a milestone that many of us, especially those representing vulnerable nations, have been fighting toward for years.

While the language was carefully negotiated (as always), the commitment is real enough to matter: a global push to accelerate the phase-out of coal and limit new fossil-fuel permitting. Not a full ban, but a turn in the right direction

2. A Renewed Adaptation Goal With Actual Numbers

This was one of Palau’s top priorities, and I am proud of what we secured: a dedicated adaptation finance floor — not just a wish list, but a real number. Parties agreed to a political signal to triple adaptation finance by 2035. For small island states, this means reliable resources for seawalls, freshwater protection, food security, and coastal resilience.

While 2035 is not soon enough, it sets a clear, global expectation to scale up resources. For SIDS and coastal communities, this is a much-needed signal that the world acknowledges the damage is here and requires real money.

3. New Protections for Indigenous Communities of the Amazon

Given where we met, this felt deeply symbolic. For the first time, Indigenous Peoples, whose land and knowledge are literally saving the world’s most vital ecosystems, participated in greater numbers than ever before. Brazil announced new Indigenous territories, and amajor new forest finance facility was launched, partly dedicated to supporting Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

Being in Belém, on the Amazon’s doorstep, made it clear that protecting nature protects people. The recognition of Indigenous land rights as a climate solution is critical, and we need to remember that lesson in Florida as we fight to protect our own vulnerable ecosystems, from the Keys to the Everglades. 

4. A Just Transition Mechanism

The parties agreed to establish the Belém Action Mechanism (BAM) for a Global Just Transition. This formalizes the idea that climate action must be fair, especially for communities and workers who suffer the most (but historically have contributed the least to climate change).

This is a big win for climate justice advocates. It means the global shift toward clean energy isn’t just about technology; it now has a formal UN home to coordinate assistance, protect workers, and ensure that developing countries can grow their economies without polluting the way the G-20 (countries of major economies, collectively contributing to 85% of global GDP and 73% of fossil fuel emissions) did.

What COP30 Did NOT Accomplish

1. A Full Fossil Fuel Phase-Out

Despite more than 80 countries advocating for a global roadmap to “phase out” fossil fuels, the final text of the Global Mutrião (meaning “collective effort”) decision failed to include any binding commitment or roadmap to phase out, or even phase down, fossil fuels. The word “fossil fuels” was effectively scrubbed from the final decision.

This was the heartbreak of Belém. The science is screaming at us. We are already acknowledging the likelihood of overshooting 1.5°C of warming (and have done so temporarily). Yet a powerful coalition of wealthy, oil-rich nations (including the United States, which was conspicuously absent) successfully blocked any meaningful commitment to address the crisis’s root cause. It’s unconscionable. Petrostates weaponized the entire negotiating process to protect their profits over our future.

2. Loss & Damage Funding Still Lags Far Behind Reality

Despite progress last year, the COP30 replenishment round fell significantly short of the scale scientists say is necessary. For nations like Palau, whose present-day losses are existential, this shortfall cuts deep.

Imagine asking a family losing their home to rising seas to “wait for the next fiscal cycle.” That’s the message they hear.

3. Weak Accountability Mechanisms

Yes, countries agreed to submit improved national climate plans. No, there are no strong enforcement tools if they fail.
We left with a framework, but not with teeth.

4. Forest Commitments Without Enforcement

Despite the Amazon’s symbolic importance at this COP, the failure to agree on a binding global roadmap to halt deforestation was deeply disappointing. We need clear, enforceable rules, not just new finance mechanisms that lack accountability. The Amazon is one of the Earth’s two lungs. Without a binding global agreement, we’re essentially leaving our life support system vulnerable to the highest bidder. Being in Belém should have been the final, definitive moment for forest protection, but instead, it ended in compromise.

The Bottom Line for Miami & What Comes Next

Representing Palau was as humbling as it was heartbreaking. When I sat in rooms full of negotiators, I carried the stories of families who live meters from shorelines that shrink every year. I thought about the coral reefs I’ve studied since childhood, reefs now bleaching, weakening, dissolving. I thought about the children I’ve met who already talk about relocation, as if their homeland’s expiration date is written in tide charts.

COP30 was a mixed bag of necessary technical progress and catastrophic political failure.

But it did deliver momentum, and sometimes, in the climate fight, momentum is the currency of hope. We secured better tools for adaptationand formalized the concept of a fair transition. That’s the good news.

The truly terrifying news is that the powerful fossil fuel lobby (the same actors who block clean energy laws here in Florida) is still successfully vetoing global climate action. In fact, fossil fuel lobbyists outnumbered every single delegation at COP30, except for Brazil’s. They are holding our cities, our coral reefs, and our future hostage.

The fight isn’t over. In fact, it just got harder. We can’t wait for the next COp; we must turn up the pressure on our own elected officials to enact mitigation that the global stage failed to deliver. The next time I post, I hope it will be about how we plan to use the Belém wins to push for local change, because our survival depends on it.

A Day in the Life at COP30

If you’ve been following my work for a while, you know that the annual UN Climate Conferences (COPs) aren’t exactly glamorous. They’re inspiring, stressful, frustrating, hopeful, exhausting, and energizing all at once.

Here at COP30 in Belém, Brazil, I’ve been working for the small island state of Palau, and the conference has, true to form, been all of these things rolled into one, and I thought you might find the daily details of what happens at these unique meetings interesting.

My work this year has had me deep in the weeds of climate finance negotiations, the alphabet soup of COP, where terms like NCQG (New Collective Quantified Goal), SCF (Standing Committee on Finance), GEF (Global Environment Facility), GCF (Green Climate Fund), AFB (Adaptation Fund Board), FRLD (Fund for responding to Loss and Damage), and Article 2.1(c) (all finance acronyms/terms) get tossed around like everyone was born speaking the unique United Nations language that intends to save Earth from burning. These discussions ultimately decide whether frontline communities, including small island states like Palau, will actually receive the financial support they need to survive a warming planet. Palau and developing nations like it around the world contribute nearly nothing to the cause of our climate crisis, yet are subject to its warming oceans, elevated temperatures, and rising sea levels in alarming, disproportionate ways that place their nations and the people who live there at dire risk. So yes, the stakes are high… and the hours are long.

Daily Schedule: 8 AM – 9 PM (or Later)

Most mornings start with a quick breakfast eaten while scrolling through overnight draft negotiation texts and tracking which paragraphs have magically appeared, disappeared, or multiplied. By 8:00 AM, I’m heading through security on my way to the Alliance of Small Island States’ (AOSIS) morning coordination, where small island nations coordinate their positions on different agenda topics to align as a larger group of 39 countries.

After that, and maybe grabbing another cup of coffee, it’s time to sit through, some days, four or five negotiations in a row (Article 9.5 transparency, the Standing Committee on Finance (SCF), Global Environment Facility (GEF) replenishment guidance, Adaptation Fund negotiations), and so forth. Each one with its own tone, tensions, and tiny battles hiding in the footnotes.

It is during these meetings that you hear nations argue over whether the COP will “invite,” “request,” or “urge” countries to contribute to a fund (yes, this matters). Developing countries will fight to keep language, ensuring that all developing nations, not just a select few, have access to the funds they need to protect themselves. Developed countries will insist on deleting paragraphs that micromanage the fund’s Board. Small Island Developing States (SIDS) and Least Developed Countries (LDCs) will try to hold the line on adaptation finance and the New Collective Quantified Goal on Climate Finance (NCQG) target. Everyone will bracket everything (bracketed text is not agreed upon or official until the brackets are removed).

By late afternoon or, on many days, evening, the room temperature is usually warm (or unusually cold this year, especially for Brazil), the coffee is flowing, and the interventions start getting pointed. Sometimes even loud. In the hallways, leaders, negotiators, diplomats, and civil society huddle to strategize and support one another in a battle whose stakes are, in many cases, survival. These are the moments you realize international climate diplomacy is equal parts politics, persistence, and people.

This is the COP rhythm: intense, purposeful, and powered by caffeine, urgency, and a belief that we must do better.

A Rare Day Off: Breathing in Belém

The annual COP meetings take place over about two weeks, and participants work six days straight, taking off Sunday. Amid the choreographed chaos of COP, on my one day off, I wanted to step into a different world and spent the day at Parque do Utinga, just outside Belém, wandering along leafy trails surrounded by the symphony of the Amazon Rainforest. And honestly, it was magical.

Amazonia, long a symbolic, hopeful location for this COP meeting, is stunningly beautiful. As I strolled through Parque do Utinga, monkeys were swinging overhead from tree to tree, butterflies the size of my hand drifted by like living confetti, and birds of every color imaginable were saying hello in, I assumed, Portuguese from the canopies or while wading in tall grass. As far as you can see, there is an endless array of plant life, vines, flowers, and towering trees so tall that they reminded me exactly what we’re fighting for inside those windowless negotiation rooms back at the conference center.

For a few hours, I wasn’t thinking about brackets or paragraphs or whether “mobilize” should be replaced with “channel.” I was thinking about the Amazon, about places like Miami and Palau, about our ocean, about the ecosystems and people whose lives depend on these negotiations landing in the right place.

Why I Keep Coming Back

The work is long, and the days are longer at these conferences. And yet, moments in Parque do Utinga and in the plenary when countries stand up for justice, equity, and survival in the only international climate forum we have on earth remind me why I do this and why I love doing it.

Communities like mine in South Florida don’t have the luxury of waiting for perfect politics. Neither do SIDS, LDCs, or anyone living on the frontlines of rising seas, intensifying storms, and unbearable heat. No matter the hours or the imperfections in the process, we have no choice but to continue fighting until we solve this ever-so complex global problem.

And so, it is. Aside from the travel, long hours, and nonstop challenges of trying to get nearly 200 nations to agree on how to fix and finance the solutions needed, I plan to keep showing up. Whether tracking paragraphs, translating jargon, endlessly negotiating, or pushing for real financial answers to protect those most vulnerable, and all the rest that happens in a blur at a COP. The work is worth it for places like Miami, small island states like Palau, and, most certainly, the “lungs of the Earth,” as the Amazon has been called, to thrive, let alone survive.

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