More than 400 people have died from heat-related illnesses in southern Nevada in 2024, the largest recorded number of heat-related deaths documented in the region in a single year. That’s not the final tally, either. Officials only report “cases” where identification is confirmed and next of kin is notified.
While the largest number of heat-related deaths documented in a single year should be enough to garner headlines, it’ll much more likely become a grim statistic in a state where the climate crisis is unfolding before our very eyes.
Data shows that Reno and Las Vegas are the fastest-warming cities in the country, with the average annual temperature increasing by more than seven and five degrees, respectively, since 1970. Excessive heat has contributed to a water crisis and has exacerbated the near-constant threat of wildfire. In Nevada, the average number of wildfires larger than 1,000 acres has doubled each year since 1970. Last month, a 5,828-acre blaze fueled by high winds and dry pine threatened thousands of homes in Reno forcing evacuations, now common for many living along the eastern Sierra.
Nevadans have, by and large, noticed. Most understand that climate change is real and already affecting how we live and that more needs to be done to mitigate its effects. A 2022 poll found that more than half of Clark County (Las Vegas) and nearly two-thirds of Washoe County (Reno) respondents said climate change impacts them on a daily basis.
And yet, climate doesn’t appear to be making an impact on this election cycle. Poll after poll has shown that voters here are more concerned about the economy, immigration, abortion rights, and defending democracy from “the other guy.”
Why? Perhaps because when Nevadans think about climate change, it’s almost always couched in faraway-seeming discussions about energy production.
The state has become ground zero for developing and implementing large-scale “green energy” projects. That’s thanks in part to the Inflation Reduction Act. Since its passage in 2022, the Biden Administration has poured billions of dollars into the state to support Nevada’s water infrastructure, wildfire restoration and mitigation efforts, and the clean energy economy.
In recent months, the U.S. Bureau of Land Management—which oversees the roughly 85% of Nevada land owned by the federal government—has greenlit several industrial solar developments and the construction of a massive 350-mile energy transmission project that includes power lines running through desert tortoise and sage grouse habitat as well as Tule Springs Fossil Beds National Monument.
Historically known for mining, Nevada is also seeing a new boom focused on lithium, the mineral needed to manufacture batteries for electric vehicles and renewable energy storage. The state has the only operating lithium mine in the U.S., with more on the way.
When Nevadans think about climate change, it’s almost always couched in faraway-seeming discussions about energy production.
However, those investments have failed to resonate with voters because they often happen in incredibly rural areas like Silver Peak, Nevada. Take a drive out there, I dare you. It’s in the middle of nowhere in a state filled with nowhere.
Roughly four hours from the heart of Las Vegas, the hamlet is nestled on the side of a mountain. A sea of fine, white powder and evaporative pools used in the extraction process stretch across the basin. Rock outcroppings with names like Alcatraz Island, Angel Island, and Goat Island lend to the illusion that you’re driving across the San Francisco Bay.
Yet, on the other side of that mountain is land virtually untouched since colonization, valleys home to Tiehm’s buckwheat, a species listed endangered in 2022.
According to the Bureau of Land Management, this land is now open for solar energy development and lithium extraction. Many environmental groups have voiced support for the increased focus on renewable energy development, but they have also questioned the federal government’s approach, leading to mixed feelings from even the most diehard green energy proponents.
Such controversies place Nevada at the forefront of climate change regulation debates, yet they happen almost entirely on the fringes. For most Nevadans, the effects of climate policies are still too abstract to sway their votes. Talking points about whether families can cool their houses in the summer and pay for the gas needed to make it to work are far easier to grasp than potential carbon reduction if X policy is implemented over Y agenda.
Who can blame voters?
Nevada’s economy has remained sluggish since the pandemic. The unemployment rate is the worst of any state in the country, while wage growth among hourly employees is the slowest. And that’s saying something, considering Nevada’s wages are already among the lowest in the country.
There’s also the rising cost of … everything. Housing is the most obvious, fueled by the relentless tide of Californians pulling up stakes from their Golden State and moving east for cheaper pastures. Nevadans also pay more for childcare, groceries, and gas than just about anywhere else in the country.
So it’s unsurprising that climate change has again taken a back seat to pocketbook issues in Nevada this election cycle.
Let’s hope that voters here recognize their role in addressing the climate crisis in their backyard sooner rather than later.
And if they don’t, let’s hope the casino air conditioners never go out.
Paul Boger lives in Reno and is the politics and state government reporter for Nevada Public Radio.
This “Election Letter” is part of a year-long Zócalo inquiry, “Can Democracy Survive This Election Year?,” looking at countries holding elections in 2024.
Primary editor: Jackie Mansky | Secondary editor: Eryn Brown