Author: alaskaadmin

In June 2021, a deadly heat wave pushed temperatures to 109 degrees Fahrenheit (43 Celsius) in Spokane, Washington, a northern city near the Idaho border where many homes weren’t built with central air conditioning.

As the heat lingered for over a week, 19 people died in Spokane County and about 300 visited hospitals with signs of heat-related illnesses.

Scientists say it’s not a matter of if, but when, another deadly heat wave descends on the region. To help save lives, the city teamed up with my university, Gonzaga, to start preparing for a hotter future.

We were excited and relieved when the community was awarded a US$19.9 million grant from the Environmental Protection Agency to help it take concrete steps to adapt to climate change and boost the local economy in the process. The grant would help establish resilience hubs with microgrids and help residents without air conditioning install energy-efficient cooling systems. The city doesn’t have the means to make these improvements on its own, even if they would save lives and money in the long run.

Less than a year later, the Trump administration abruptly terminated the funding.

Spokane’s grant wasn’t the only one eliminated – about 350 similar grants that had been awarded to help communities across the country manage climate changes, from extreme heat and wildfire smoke to rising seas and flooding, were also terminated on the grounds that they don’t meet the White House’s priorities. Many other grants to help communities have also been terminated.

Many of the communities that lost funding are like Spokane: They can’t afford to do this kind of work on their own.

Why cities like Spokane need the help

Like many communities in the American West, Spokane was founded in the late 19th century on wealth from railroads and resource extraction, especially gold, silver and timber.

Today, it is a city of 230,000 in a metro area of a half-million people, the largest on the I-90 corridor between Minneapolis and Seattle. In many ways, Spokane could be on the cusp of a renaissance.

In January 2025, the U.S. Department of Commerce announced a $48 million grant to develop a tech hub that could put the Inland Northwest on a path to become a global leader in advanced aerospace materials. But then, in May, the Trump administration rescinded that grant as well.

The lost grants left the economy – and Spokane’s ability to adapt fast enough to keep up with climate changes – uncertain.

This is not a wealthy area. The median household income is nearly $30,000 less than the state average. More than 13 out of every 100 people in Spokane live in poverty, above the national average, and over 67% of the children are eligible for free or reduced lunch.

The city is a light blue island in a dark red sea, politically speaking, with a moderate mayor. Its congressional district has voted Republican by wide margins since 1995, the year that then-House Speaker Tom Foley lost his reelection bid.

Lessons from the 2021 heat dome

The 2021 heat wave was a catalyzing event for the community. The newly formed Gonzaga Institute for Climate, Water and the Environment brought together a coalition of government and community partners to apply for the EPA’s Environmental and Climate Justice Community Change Grant Program. The grants, funded by Congress under the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022, were intended to help communities most affected by pollution and climate change build adaptive capacity and boost the safety of their residents.

A key lesson from the 2021 heat dome was that temporary, or pop-up, cooling centers don’t work well. People just weren’t showing up. Our research found that the best approach is to strengthen existing community facilities that people already turn to in moments of difficulty.

Half the $19.9 million award was for outfitting five resilience hubs in existing libraries and community centers with solar arrays and battery backup microgrids, allowing them to continue providing a safe, cool space during a heat wave if the power shuts down.

Another $8 million in grant funding was meant to provide 300 low- to moderate-income homeowners with new high-efficiency electric heat pump heating, ventilation and air conditioning systems, providing more affordable utility bills while improving their ability to cool their homes and reducing fossil fuel emissions.

Communities are left with few options

Now, this and other work is at risk in Spokane and cities and towns like it around the country that also lost funding.

According to the Trump administration, the program – designed to help hundreds of communities around the country become safer – was “no longer consistent with EPA funding priorities.”

A class action lawsuit was recently filed over the termination of the grants by a coalition that includes Earth Justice and the Southern Environmental Law Center. If the case is successful, Spokane could see its funding restored.

Meanwhile, the city and my team know we have to move fast, with whatever money and other resources we can find, to help Spokane prepare for worsening heat. We formed the Spokane Community Resilience Collaborative – a partnership between community organizations, health officials and the city – as one way to advance planning for and responding to climate hazards such as extreme heat and wildfire smoke.

As concentrations of heat-trapping gasses accumulate in the atmosphere, both the frequency and severity of heat waves increase. It is only a matter of time before another deadly heat dome arrives.

Brian G. Henning receives funding from the Environmental Protection Agency.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

The Trump administration has recently directed that a new wave of polygraphs be administered across the executive branch, aimed at uncovering leaks to the press.

As someone who has taken roughly a dozen polygraphs during my 27-year career with the CIA, I read this development with some skepticism.

Polygraphs carry an ominous, almost mythological reputation among Americans. The more familiar and unofficial term – lie detector tests – likely fuels that perception. Television crime dramas have done their part, too, often portraying the device as an oracle for uncovering the truth when conventional methods fail.

In those portrayals, the polygraph is not merely a tool – it’s a window into the soul.

Among those entering government service, especially in national security, the greater anxiety is not the background check but passing the polygraph. My advice is always the same: Don’t lie.

It’s the best – and perhaps only – guidance for a process that most assessments have concluded is a more subjective interpretation than empirical science.

Why the polygraph persists

Polygraphs are “pseudo-scientific” in that they measure physiological responses such as heart rate, blood pressure and perspiration. The assumption is that liars betray themselves through spikes in those signals. But this presumes a kind of psychological transparency that simply doesn’t hold up. A person might sweat and tremble simply from fear, anger or frustration – not deceit.

There also are no specific physiological reactions associated with lying. The National Academy of Sciences in 2003, and the American Psychological Association in a 2004 review, concluded that the polygraph rests more on theater than fact. Recent assessments, published in 2019, have reached the same conclusion.

Accordingly, polygraph results are not generally admissible in U.S. courts. Only a handful of states – such as Georgia, Arizona and California – permit their use even under limited conditions. And they typically require that both parties agree to admission and a judge to approve it. Unconditional admissibility remains the exception, not the rule.

And yet, inside many national security agencies, polygraphs remain central to the clearance process – a fact I observed firsthand during my time overseeing personnel vetting and analytic hiring within the intelligence community.

While not treated as conclusive, polygraph results often serve as a filter. A candidate’s visible discomfort – or the examiner’s subjective judgment that a response seems evasive – can stall or end the hiring process. For instance, I know that government agencies have halted clearances after an examiner flagged elevated reactions to questions about past drug use or foreign contacts, even when no disqualifying behavior was ultimately documented.

In some cases, an examiner’s suggestion that a chart shows an anomaly has led otherwise strong applicants to volunteer details they hadn’t planned to share – such as minor security infractions, undeclared relationships, or casual drug use from decades earlier – that, while not disqualifying on their own, reshape how their trustworthiness is perceived.

The polygraph’s power lies in creating the conditions under which deception is confessed.

A predictable pattern

No administration has been immune to the impulse to investigate leaks. The reflex is bipartisan and familiar: An embarrassing disclosure appears in the press – contradicting official statements or exposing internal dissent – and the White House vows to identify and punish the source. Polygraphs are often part of this ritual.

During his first term, Trump intensified efforts to expose internal dissent and media leaks. Department guidelines were revised to make it easier for agencies to obtain journalists’ phone and email records, and polygraphs were reportedly used to pressure officials suspected of talking to the press. That trend has continued – and, in some areas, escalated.

Recent policies at the Pentagon now restrict unescorted press access, revoke office space for major outlets and favor ideologically aligned networks. The line between legitimate leak prevention and the surveillance or sidelining of critical press coverage has grown increasingly blurred.

At agencies such as the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI, polygraphs are reportedly being used more frequently – and more punitively – to identify internal dissenters. Even “cold cases,” such as the leak of the Supreme Court’s Dobbs opinion ahead of its overturning of Roe v. Wade, have been reopened, despite prior investigations yielding no definitive source.

Government reaction varies

Not all leaks are treated the same. Disclosures that align with official narratives or offer strategic advantage may be quietly tolerated, even if unauthorized. Others, especially those that embarrass senior officials or reveal dysfunction, are more likely to prompt formal investigation.

In 2003, for example, the leak of CIA officer Valerie Plame’s identity – widely seen as retaliation for her husband’s criticism of the Iraq War – triggered a federal investigation. The disclosure embarrassed senior officials, led to White House aide Scooter Libby’s conviction for perjury, later commuted, and drew intense political scrutiny.

Leaks involving classified material draw the sharpest response when they challenge presidential authority or expose internal disputes. That was the case in 2010 with Chelsea Manning, whose disclosure of diplomatic cables and battlefield reports embarrassed senior officials and sparked global backlash. Government reaction often depends less on what was disclosed than on who disclosed it – and to what effect.

A narrow set of disclosures, such as those involving espionage or operational compromise, elicit broad consensus as grounds for prosecution. But most leaks fall outside that category. Most investigations fade quietly. The public rarely learns what became of them. Occasionally, there is a vague resignation, but direct accountability is rare.

What the future holds

Trump’s polygraph campaign is not likely to eliminate leaks to the press. But they may have a chilling effect that discourages internal candor while diverting investigative energy away from core security priorities.

Even if such campaigns succeed in reducing unauthorized disclosures, they may come at the cost of institutional resilience. Historically, aggressive internal enforcement has been associated with declining morale and reduced information flow – factors that can hinder adaptation to complex threats.

Some researchers have suggested that artificial intelligence may eventually offer reliable tools for detecting deception. One recent assessment raised the possibility, while cautioning that the technology is nowhere near operational readiness.

For now, institutions will have to contend with the tools they have – imperfect, imprecise and more performative than predictive.

As a former US intelligence officer, I am required to submit any written draft, before sharing it with other persons, for prepublication review. I submitted this draft to CIA’s Prepublication Review Board, which responded on 11 June: “No classified information was identified. Therefore, no changes are required for publication or sharing with others.”

​Politics + Society – The Conversation