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Capitalism and climate: How financial shifts will shape our behavior


The insurance crisis is reverberating across the nation. Photograph by Geoffrey George/Getty Images

I never imagined I would see Los Angeles engulfed in flames in this way in my lifetime. As someone who has devoted years to studying climate science and advocating for climate technology solutions, I'm still caught off guard by the immediacy of these disasters. A part of me wants to believe the intensifying hurricanes, floods, and wildfires are merely an unfortunate string of bad luck. Whether through misplaced optimism or a subconscious shield of denial, I hadn't fully processed that these weren't just harbingers of a distant future, but our present reality. The recent fires have shattered that denial, bringing to mind the haunting prescience of the movie Don't Look Up. Perhaps we aren't as wise as we fancy ourselves to be.

The LA fires aren't an isolated incident. They're part of a terrifying pattern: the Canadian wildfires that darkened our skies, the devastating floods in Spain and Pakistan, and the increasingly powerful hurricanes in the Gulf. A stark new reality is emerging for climate-vulnerable cities, and whether we acknowledge the underlying crisis or not, climate change is making its presence felt – not just in death and destruction, but in our wallets.

The insurance industry, with its cold actuarial logic, is already responding. Even before the recent LA fires, major insurers like State Farm and Allstate had stopped writing new home policies in California, citing unmanageable wildfire risks. In the devastated Palisades area, 70% of homes had lost their insurance coverage before disaster struck. While some homeowners may have enrolled in California's limited FAIR plan, others likely went without coverage. Now, the FAIR plan faces $5.9 billion in potential claims, far exceeding its reinsurance backup – a shortfall that promises delayed payments and costlier coverage.

The insurance crisis is reverberating across the nation, and Houston sits squarely in its path. As a city all too familiar with the destructive power of extreme weather, we're experiencing our own reckoning. The Houston Chronicle recently reported that local homeowners are paying a $3,740 annually for insurance – nearly triple the national average and 60% higher than the Texas state average. Our region isn't just listed among the most expensive areas for home insurance; it's identified as one of the most vulnerable to climate hazards.

For Houston homeowners, Hurricane Harvey taught us a harsh lesson: flood zones are merely suggestions, not guarantees. The next major hurricane won't respect the city's floodplain designations. This reality poses a sobering question: Would you risk having your largest asset – your home – uninsured when flooding becomes increasingly likely in the next decade or two?

For most Americans, home equity represents one of the largest components of household wealth, a crucial stepping stone to financial security and generational advancement. Insurance isn't just about protecting physical property; it's about preserving the foundation of middle-class economic stability. When insurance becomes unavailable or unaffordable, it threatens the very basis of financial security for millions of families.

The insurance industry's retreat from vulnerable markets – as evidenced by Progressive and Foremost Insurance's withdrawal from writing new policies in Texas – is more than a business decision. It's a market signal. These companies are essentially pricing in the reality of climate change, whether we choose to call it that or not.

What we're witnessing is the market beginning to price us out of areas where we've either built unsustainably or perhaps should never have built at all. This isn't just about insurance rates; it's about the future viability of entire communities and regional economies. The invisible hand of the market is doing what political will has failed to do: forcing us to confront the true costs of our choices in a warming world.

Insurance companies aren't the only ones sounding the alarm. Lenders and investors are quietly rewriting the rules of capital access based on climate risk. Banks are adjusting mortgage terms and raising borrowing costs in vulnerable areas, while major investment firms are factoring carbon intensity into their lending decisions. Companies with higher environmental risks have faced higher loan spreads and borrowing costs – a trend that's accelerating as climate impacts intensify. This financial reckoning is creating a new economic geography, where access to capital increasingly depends on climate resilience.

The insurance crisis is the canary in the coal mine, warning us of the systemic risks ahead. As actuaries and risk managers factor climate risks into their models, we're seeing the beginning of a profound economic shift that will ripple far beyond housing, affecting businesses, agriculture, and entire regional economies. The question isn't whether we'll adapt to this new reality, but how much it will cost us – in both financial and human terms – before we finally act.

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Nada Ahmed is the founding partner at Houston-based Energy Tech Nexus.

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A View From HETI

No critical minerals, no modern economy. Getty images

If you’re reading this on a phone, driving an EV, flying in a plane, or relying on the power grid to keep your lights on, you’re benefiting from critical minerals. These are the building blocks of modern life. Things like copper, lithium, nickel, rare earth elements, and titanium, they’re found in everything from smartphones to solar panels to F-35 fighter jets.

In short: no critical minerals, no modern economy.

These minerals aren’t just useful, they’re essential. And in the U.S., we don’t produce enough of them. Worse, we’re heavily dependent on countries that don’t always have our best interests at heart. That’s a serious vulnerability, and we’ve done far too little to fix it.

Where We Use Them and Why We’re Behind

Let’s start with where these minerals show up in daily American life:

  • Electric vehicles need lithium, cobalt, and nickel for batteries.
  • Wind turbines and solar panels rely on rare earths and specialty metals.
  • Defense systems require titanium, beryllium, and rare earths.
  • Basic infrastructure like power lines and buildings depend on copper and aluminum.

You’d think that something so central to the economy, and to national security, would be treated as a top priority. But we’ve let production and processing capabilities fall behind at home, and now we’re playing catch-up.

The Reality Check: We’re Not in Control

Right now, the U.S. is deeply reliant on foreign sources for critical minerals, especially China. And it’s not just about mining. China dominates processing and refining too, which means they control critical links in the supply chain.

Gabriel Collins and Michelle Michot Foss from the Baker Institute lay all this out in a recent report that every policymaker should read. Their argument is blunt: if we don’t get a handle on this, we’re in trouble, both economically and militarily.

China has already imposed export controls on key rare earth elements like dysprosium and terbium which are critical for magnets, batteries, and defense technologies, in direct response to new U.S. tariffs. This kind of tit-for-tat escalation exposes just how much leverage we’ve handed over. If this continues, American manufacturers could face serious material shortages, higher costs, and stalled projects.

We’ve seen this movie before, in the pandemic, when supply chains broke and countries scrambled for basics like PPE and semiconductors. We should’ve learned our lesson.

We Do Have a Stockpile, But We Need a Strategy

Unlike during the Cold War, the U.S. no longer maintains comprehensive strategic reserves across the board, but we do have stockpiles managed by the Defense Logistics Agency. The real issue isn’t absence, it’s strategy: what to stockpile, how much, and under what assumptions.

Collins and Michot Foss argue for a more robust and better-targeted approach. That could mean aiming for 12 to 18 months worth of demand for both civilian and defense applications. Achieving that will require:

  • Smarter government purchasing and long-term contracts
  • Strategic deals with allies (e.g., swapping titanium for artillery shells with Ukraine)
  • Financing mechanisms to help companies hold critical inventory for emergency use

It’s not cheap, but it’s cheaper than scrambling mid-crisis when supplies are suddenly cut off.

The Case for Advanced Materials: Substitutes That Work Today

One powerful but often overlooked solution is advanced materials, which can reduce our dependence on vulnerable mineral supply chains altogether.

Take carbon nanotube (CNT) fibers, a cutting-edge material invented at Rice University. CNTs are lighter, stronger, and more conductive than copper. And unlike some future tech, this isn’t hypothetical: we could substitute CNTs for copper wire harnesses in electrical systems today.

As Michot Foss explained on the Energy Forum podcast:

“You can substitute copper and steel and aluminum with carbon nanotube fibers and help offset some of those trade-offs and get performance enhancements as well… If you take carbon nanotube fibers and you put those into a wire harness… you're going to be reducing the weight of that wire harness versus a metal wire harness like we already use. And you're going to be getting the same benefit in terms of electrical conductivity, but more strength to allow the vehicle, the application, the aircraft, to perform better.”

By accelerating R&D and deployment of CNTs and similar substitutes, we can reduce pressure on strained mineral supply chains, lower emissions, and open the door to more secure and sustainable manufacturing.

We Have Tools. We Need to Use Them.

The report offers a long list of solutions. Some are familiar, like tax incentives, public-private partnerships, and fast-tracked permits. Others draw on historical precedent, like “preclusive purchasing,” a WWII tactic where the U.S. bought up materials just so enemies couldn’t.

We also need to get creative:

  • Repurpose existing industrial sites into mineral hubs
  • Speed up R&D for substitutes and recycling
  • Buy out risky foreign-owned assets in friendlier countries

Permitting remains one of the biggest hurdles. In the U.S., it can take 7 to 10 years to approve a new critical minerals project, a timeline that doesn’t match the urgency of our strategic needs. As Collins said on the Energy Forum podcast:

“Time kills deals... That’s why it’s more attractive generally to do these projects elsewhere.”

That’s the reality we’re up against. Long approval windows discourage investment and drive developers to friendlier jurisdictions abroad. One encouraging step is the use of the Defense Production Act to fast-track permitting under national security grounds. That kind of shift, treating permitting as a strategic imperative, must become the norm, not the exception.

It’s Time to Redefine Sustainability

Sustainability has traditionally focused on cutting carbon emissions. That’s still crucial, but we need a broader definition. Today, energy and materials security are just as important.

Countries are now weighing cost and reliability alongside emissions goals. We're also seeing renewed attention to recycling, biodiversity, and supply chain resilience.

Net-zero by 2050 is still a target. But reality is forcing a more nuanced discussion:

  • What level of warming is politically and economically sustainable?
  • What tradeoffs are we willing to make to ensure energy access and affordability?

The bottom line: we can’t build a clean energy future without secure access to materials. Recycling helps, but it’s not enough. We'll need new mines, new tech, and a more flexible definition of sustainability.

My Take: We’re Running Out of Time

This isn’t just a policy debate. It’s a test of whether we’ve learned anything from the past few years of disruption. We’re not facing an open war, but the risks are real and growing.

We need to treat critical minerals like what they are: a strategic necessity. That means rebuilding stockpiles, reshoring processing, tightening alliances, and accelerating permitting across the board.

It won’t be easy. But if we wait until a real crisis hits, it’ll be too late.

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Scott Nyquist is a senior advisor at McKinsey & Company and vice chairman, Houston Energy Transition Initiative of the Greater Houston Partnership. The views expressed herein are Nyquist's own and not those of McKinsey & Company or of the Greater Houston Partnership. This article originally appeared on LinkedIn on April 11, 2025.


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