Remember when the drinking age was different in US states? I do. I went to high school in upstate New York in the 70’s where the drinking age was 18. I went away to college in Pennsylvania where the drinking age was 21. I smuggled many a case of beer from my home to my dorm room in the back of a beat-up Ford station wagon.
Folks in Washington DC got wind of such illegal interstate commerce and decided we needed a uniform national drinking age. But this being a “states’ rights” matter, the feds couldn’t order the states to change their laws. So in 1984, they passed the National Minimum Drinking Age act. This bill withheld 10% of scheduled federal highway improvement dollars from every state that allowed people younger than 21 to buy booze. By 1995, the national drinking age was 21.
Now let’s think about the AIA 2030 Commitment and our pledge to get to carbon-neutral architecture by the year 2030. We know what is broadly meant (in this case) by “carbon neutral”: building that are a). radically energy efficient and b). use renewable energy exclusively so that c). the buildings’ annual carbon emissions from operations net out to zero.
I was recently in Copenhagen. The nations of the European Union, having taken the Paris Accords seriously, are thinking beyond carbon-neutral buildings. They’re working to make their entire economies carbon-neutral by 2050. This will obviously require a lot of renewable energy. Today, 53.8% of Sweden’s energy comes from renewable sources. Finland is at 38.7%. Latvia: 37.2%, Austria: 33.5%, Denmark: 32.2%. These countries are on their way.
In the United States, we’re only at 12.2% of primary energy consumption from renewables. For us to get to a carbon-neutral economy, we’d need a whole lot more renewable energy generation than we have now.
Why, may you ask, is renewable energy in the USA lagging way behind those EU nations? The answers are truly myriad . . . but a big reason is that old Constitutional states’ rights thing. Like the drinking age in the mid-70’s, every US state sets its own renewable energy generation laws: its own renewable portfolio standards, its own net metering policies, and its own interconnection standards.
Renewable portfolio standards (RPS) are the regulations that requires utilities in a state to produce a certain amount of power from renewable sources. Twelve US states have no RPS requirements. Eight states have only voluntary RPS targets. Net metering policies allow distributed power generators to sell excess electricity back to the utilities. Twelve US states do not allow net metering. And net metering capacity limits vary widely by state: Wisconsin allows net metering for systems up to 20 kilowatts, New Mexico’ cap is 80 megawatts, Arizona’s system cap is defined in another way: it’s 125% of a customer’s total connected load.
Interconnection standards regulate how any kind of distributed power generators (like photovoltaic arrays or wind turbines) can physically connect to the grid. Seven US states have no interconnection standards. Some states (like Illinois) have adopted IEEE 1547, the model national interconnection standard established by the Energy Policy Act of 2005. Most states have written their own interconnection standards, but, like Iowa, they typically only apply to investor-owned utilities. Municipal electric utilities are free to make up their own rules. Kansas’ standards only apply to systems with capacities up to 200 kW. Florida classifies “waste heat” as a renewable fuel source.
The ACEEE (American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy) says “lack of a consistent standard that explicitly establishes parameters and procedures for connecting to the grid drives up both monetary and transaction costs for technology manufacturers and owners, discouraging [renewable energy] deployment”.
This is no way to run a country. Those damned regulations are killing our industry! (Where have you heard THAT screed before?)
The fix? Like the national minimum drinking age, we know it can be done. We need our Congress and President to realize that carbon neutrality is too big an issue for the states to solve on their own. If we’re ever going to get to a carbon-neutral economy in the USA, it will take federal leadership. We just need to make it a national priority.
As a long-time supporter of the AIA 2030 Commitment, I was looking forward to seeing how the infrastructure discussion would take shape this year in Washington, DC. Why? Because I believe architecture IS infrastructure, and driving greater energy efficiency in our existing buildings should be a national priority. Plus, we’ve been kicking the infrastructure investment can down the road for decades now. So maybe with a real estate guy in the White House, Congressional priorities could be changed.
On February 12, 2018, the Administration published its infrastructure plan, a “Legislative Outline for Rebuilding Infrastructure in America”. I read the whole thing. I wasn’t too surprised to find that existing buildings were not mentioned in the document. What was surprisingly absent: a comprehensive vision for the sustainable, resilient 21st century infrastructure that America sorely needs.
As we design professionals know, you can’t raise public support or private capital for anything without describing that thing first – and describing it in specific and compelling terms. This infrastructure “plan” failed to make a convincing case for infrastructure investment.
I didn’t expect the White House to conduct a coast-to-coast needs assessment of where infrastructure investment was most warranted. They didn’t need to. That research has already been done. The American Society of Civil Engineer’s (ASCE) 2016 “Failure to Act” report documents the many ways in which the US infrastructure “investment gap” increasingly burdens American businesses and families.
To kick-start the infrastructure discussion, I believe the Administration needed only to do two things: first, describe the desired end goal, and then, prioritize.
For example: they could have started by prioritizing the national security need for a 21st-century power generation and distribution infrastructure that would maintain vital functions within our buildings in the face of increasing threats from a rapidly shifting climate and global political strife. A second priority case could have been made for infrastructure improvements that reduce greenhouse gas emissions. This could have included the need to use public funding mechanisms to increase energy efficiency in existing buildings.
The Administration could also have asked Members of Congress to work together on a nationwide public transportation network to facilitate the equitable and carbon-efficient movement of Americans between their homes and their workplaces. They could’ve described a future America with ports, harbors, and riverbanks that were redesigned to better-manage the stresses of severe weather and protect the lives, businesses, and interests of the citizens that live or work near them.
Supporting equal-opportunity wealth formation should have been presented as another high national priority, directing infrastructure investment to communities without sufficient access to private capital. Ultimately, resilient design in its broadest sense should have been an overarching infrastructure priority, therefore leveraging the expertise of the nation’s many talented designers.
But, most importantly, the Administration needed to make the public benefit case. Again, the ASCE report is explicit about the projected $3.9 trillion loss in GDP that decaying infrastructure will cost the US by 2025, the $7 trillion in lost business sales, and the $3,400 in direct cost to each US family per year. And these figures are apart from the huge untapped savings that improved building energy efficiency could bring to every sector of the economy. No public benefit case, no public investment.
Imperatives such as these could have shifted the infrastructure question from “why” to “how” and formed the basis for meaningful public policy. Unfortunately, an enormous political opportunity has been missed.
Money, religion, sex … and politics. In many social settings, these are still taboo topics. Politics is especially radioactive these days. You just can’t go there.
So let’s “go there”. Let’s talk politics.
Suppose you’re an architect or designer with a firm that has signed the AIA 2030 Commitment, and your firm reports the designed energy use of all your projects every year. You’re probably working to reduce the Energy Use Intensity or Lighting Power Density of your projects. That’s excellent. Good for you, good for your firm.
If this is so, you’ve probably found yourself in a conference room talking about the AIA 2030 Commitment’s online reporting site, the Design Data Exchange (aka the “DDx”). You may even have discussed Energy Star Target Finder, since that’s the program that sets building energy targets within the DDx. If you’re a serious building energy geek, you may have heard about EnergyPlus or OpenStudio, a couple open-source programs that support building energy modeling calculations. Good stuff.
What you probably haven’t talked about in that conference room: politics. You know the rules. No politics in business-related settings.
This isn’t a bad idea. We architect/designer types are inclusive and tolerant. Our work involves big teams of people like builders and engineers and public officials and clients with money. We have to work with everyone, right?
But hear me out. That AIA 2030 Commitment DDx? It was developed by the American Institute of Architects in partnership with the United States Department of Energy (DOE) Office of Energy Efficiency and Renewable Energy (EERE) and the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). A lot of the work on the DDx was done at the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory (LBNL). Energy Star is an EPA program, and EnergyPlus and OpenStudio are both DOE programs developed at the LBNL.
Both the EPA and DOE could see their budgets slashed by Congress in 2018. Drastic cuts are also being considered for NASA’s earth-science research, NOAA’s weather satellite budget, and the kind of software development the LBNL does. This is stuff we use every day.
So, really, there’s nothing “taboo” about any of this. In order to drive greater building energy use efficiency through our design work, Architects depend on programs and technologies developed by agencies within the United States federal government. And we need to see funding for these agencies protected.
That’s why the AIA Committee on the Environment (COTE) does advocacy work. Teaming with the AIA’s Government Relations and Advocacy staff, AIA COTE has its own web page that keeps folks informed about urgent issues and what you can do to help. Scroll down the page and find a spreadsheet of all the EPA and DOE programs that are critical to our work. Read the letters of support for these EPA and DOE programs signed by almost 800 firms, and check out the “101” on the federal budgeting process. And make your presence known by joining the AIA COTE Advocacy Network.
Don’t think of advocacy as “politics”. Think of it as responsible citizenship. We should absolutely go there.
So the United States federal government has gone back on its commitment to the 2015 UNFCCC Paris Climate Change Agreement. If you (like me) are mad as hell and can’t take it anymore, you’re no doubt also wondering what to do.
If you’re an architect or designer working in a US architectural firm, and your firm belongs to the American Institute of Architects, I have a suggestion: Sign the AIA 2030 Commitment. Do it now, before you cool off.
What will that accomplish? Allow me to elaborate.
Mayors of US Cities have announced that they’re sticking to the Paris carbon reduction guidelines. Many US States are sticking with it, too. California, Washington, and New York have banded together to form a climate alliance. California Governor Jerry Brown is on his way to China to rally support for his state’s initiatives.
Why? Because all those companies, people, and organizations, states, and municipal governments want to do whatever is within their powers to reduce the production of greenhouse gasses. And you do, too. See, that’s where signing the AIA 2030 Commitment comes in.
Because the AIA 2030 Commitment is – in fact – very much like the Paris Agreement. But unlike a global accord, it’s something your firm can participate in!
Hear me out. The Paris Agreement is a UN-sponsored compact created to reduce global greenhouse gas production. It’s voluntary and non-binding. Participating nations establish their own nationally determined contributions to carbon reduction. Nations self-report their progress every five years, and pay on a sliding scale into a maintenance and reinvestment fund.
But the greatest thing about the Paris Agreement: everyone is (was) all in together.
The AIA 2030 Commitment is a national framework targeting carbon neutrality in the
building industry by 2030. It is voluntary and non-binding. Participating firms work against pre-established energy efficiency targets, but there’s no penalty for not hitting them. Firms self-report every year using a slick web-based reporting tool developed by the AIA with the US DOE . . . which we all (kinda) already paid for with our sliding-scale AIA National dues. It’s a fabulous, transformative program.
But the sad thing is: We’re not all in together. Not even close.
A recent report by the AIA Committee on the Environment, “The Habits of High-Performing Firms”, captured the grim statistics. There are 20,000 AIA Member firms in the USA. In 2016, 366 firms signed the Commitment and only 152 firms reported in 2015. That means only 1% – one percent – of all US architecture firms were part of an active, industry-sponsored initiative to do exactly the same damned thing the Paris Agreement was created to do.
In 2015, the average energy reduction for the nearly 6,000 projects submitted to the 2030 Commitment was 38.1%. So it works. But first, you have to sign up.
There’s your answer. Have your firm sign the AIA 2030 Commitment. Now. If you’re not a firm principal, go to your bosses’ offices or cubicles or workstations on Monday morning. Get ’em while they’re still on their first cup of coffee. Implore them to sign it. Tell them to sign in solidarity with all those states, cities, and corporations. Tell them it’s time for the architects to step up. Tell them the good people of America want them to sign.
Tell them it’s an act of protest. Because it is.
Anger is an energy. Use it. Get with the program.
#Vinceremos (Thanks, Rus!)
When I was growing up near Syracuse, NY, the drinking age was 18. I went to college in Pennsylvania in the mid-70’s. At the time, the drinking age there was 21. Mea culpa, I would buy cheap beer (Utica Club) at home and smuggle it into my dorm by the case.
This changed when the US Congress passed the National Minimum Drinking Age act of 1984. Congress knew that legislating the drinking age was one of those powers reserved to the states. So instead of usurping their Federal authority, the aforementioned Drinking Age Act reduced the federal highway funding by 10% per year to every state that didn’t make 21 their drinking age. By 1995, the USA had a uniform national drinking age.
What does this have to do with the AIA 2030 Commitment? Glad you asked.
Those of us who have signed the Commitment have pledged that all the new buildings, architectural interiors, and major renovations we design will be carbon-neutral by the year 2030. This, of course, doesn’t mean our projects won’t need energy to operate. It means they will be radically energy efficient, and the energy they do need will be entirely provided by renewable sources.
And by the year 2030, we hope that a lot of grid-sourced power will come from distributed solar and wind generation. But before this can happen, our nation needs to take a good hard look at how we regulate distributed generation (or “DG”).
Caution: this is a complicated topic, and I’m substantially out of my depth with this blog post. But here’s what I’ve managed to find out: As of this writing, 33 US States have some form of distributed generation interconnection standards. But they’re wildly inconsistent. New York allows a maximum system size of 2 megawatts. Washington allows 20 megawatts. Massachusetts and California have no maximum system sizes. Twelve US states have interconnection guidelines, not standards. Five states have no rules at all.
Now I’m no expert, but this doesn’t look like the kind of regulatory environment that would support the nationwide proliferation of distributed renewable energy generation. It looks like a ball of confusion. The kind of legal crazy-quilt that you sometimes get when states and municipalities write their own rules (in this case heavily influenced by investor-owned utilities) about something that should be consistent from coast-to-coast. Like the drinking age.
To make it worse, national DG interconnection standards already exist. An American professional society, the IEEE (Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, the “world’s largest technical professional organization for the advancement of technology”) created them with the support of the National Renewable Energy Laboratory, and made them available to the US Department of Energy. Where I assume they sit in a file.
Like my example of the drinking age, the adoption of a national uniform DG interconnection standard may need some help to make it happen. Like Congressional leadership and a good carrot/stick approach. Maybe we hold federal energy production subsidies hostage until state utility commissions see the light?
Or heck, maybe we just need a slogan. This stuff doesn’t fit on a bumper sticker.
So let’s try it this way: You say you want American energy independence? You say regulation is stifling growth? You say you want government to get out of the way and let innovation happen? In this case, I agree. Let’s DEREGULATE DG!
I will most certainly drink to that.
I usually write about the AIA 2030 Commitment. My focus has been architecture and climate change. And since last Monday was Earth Day, I had a rich supply of emails and RSS feeds to fuel the ever-present need for new blog material.
The best thing I saw last Monday was this 10-minute video of Dr. Amory Lovins (Hon. AIA) giving the keynote at “RMI25: Celebrating Solutions”, the Rocky Mountain Institute’s 25th Anniversary Gala.
Dr. Lovins, an environmental scientist and physicist, is co-founder and Chief Scientist at the Rocky Mountain Institute. The RMI’s work is focused on renewable energy and resource efficiency. Dr. Lovins has advised the US government on energy policy, written several books on sustainability and was named one of the world’s 100 most influential people by Time magazine in 2009. And true, he tells a damn good story.
For my money, Amory Lovins is a real leader. One of the founding fathers of the 21st-century sustainability movement. His book, Natural Capitalism, and Chapter 6, “Tunneling Through the Cost Barrier”, is required reading. His address at that conference was leadership in action.
What got me so jazzed about this little speech? I think we architects can learn a lot about leadership from folks like Amory Lovins. Allow me to elaborate:
Leadership takes vision. Vision is job one for leadership. Amory Lovins has a vision for a post-carbon world, and he shares it with us in this speech. In fact, whenever he speaks he shares his vision. It’s potent and persuasive. This is a good object lesson for architects. Vision is our core competency. We understand external forces, manage variables, and imagine a thing that doesn’t exist yet responds to an elaborate set of real-world constraints. That’s quite a skill. Perfect for leadership.
Design ideas are visions for our projects. Market positions and competitive advantages are visions for our firms. But none of these are meaningful to people outside our professional circles. A vision for a neighborhood in which all residents share equally in all the city’s benefits; a vision for a city that preserves its resources for future generations? Those are the kinds of visions that can inspire an entire community. Or more.
Leadership requires effective communication. Dr. Lovins begins his address by saying “let me tell you a story”. He quotes Dr. Martin Luther King saying “peace is not the absence of war; it is the presence of justice.” He shares the “guiding parable” of the Rocky Mountain Institute: a saga that begins with the World Health Organization, Malaria and DDT and ends with cats in parachutes. His message: see how all things are connected, and see how the cause of a problem is sometimes a proposed “solution”.
This is the language of leadership. It is outwardly-focused, intended for a broad audience. The message is clear, but its implications are nuanced and complex. It is compelling without being strident.
Architects are pretty good with communication. Although our writing and speaking is far too often dense with jargon (or just in need of editing!), we have the advantage of being able to communicate with images. Sketches and diagrams are extremely potent when it comes to sharing a vision. This is another excellent skill for leaders to have.
Leadership transcends expertise. People pay attention to Dr. Lovins because he’s a well-respected scientist, thus giving him credibility. But there is a difference between being a “leading scientist” and being a scientist-as-leader. The work of leading scientists is generally appreciated by the scientific community but unknown to most everyone else. To be a scientist-as-leader, one has to step outside the discipline and engage other people. The Union of Concerned Scientists was founded by scientists acting as leaders.
A leading architect could have a great resume, many publications and awards, and fabulous projects that are considered exemplars of their type. And a line of clients down the street. But most leading architects are unknown even to the people who use their buildings every day.
This is where we fall short. An architect-as-leader must step outside the practice model and address issues that matter to their fellow citizens. They must speak up on subjects like promoting renewable energy, comprehensive planning and smart growth, design excellence in the public realm. They must use their knowledge and experience as architects to be convincing, but must speak as a person or a voter or a member of a civil society, not as an architect.
But we have worked so hard to become trained and credentialed and are so accustomed to the challenges and opportunities of our beloved practice. We hate to leave that familiar setting. But that’s what it takes to be a leader. Because, ultimately . . .
Leadership is a choice. People aren’t born to lead or required to become leaders. Dr. Lovins could have been perfectly happy as a scientist. He didn’t need to become a leader. You don’t have to be a leader, either. You could be one of many people who just live and breathe design and want to be the best architect you possibly can.
But if you find yourself believing in a vision and motivated to redress a wrong or advocate for change that will benefit others, you may find yourself in a position of leadership. And if we, as a profession, are going to deliver on a manifesto like “We are America’s architects. We are committed to building a better world”, we need more architects to become leaders.