• Lease Structure: Carnegie House operates as a ground-lease cooperative, meaning residents own building shares while leasing the underlying land from a separate entity.
• Cost Escalation: Ground rent for the property increased by 450 percent in 2025, rising from $4.36 million to $24 million based on fair-market land values.
• Equity Depletion: The drastic increase in operating costs has caused shareholder equity values to collapse and raised the risk of building dissolution.
• Risk Awareness: Purchasers in ground-lease buildings typically pay lower prices to compensate for the inherent risk that land values will appreciate faster than building values.
• Legislative Proposal: New York Senate Bill S2433 seeks to cap annual ground-rent increases at 3 percent or the Consumer Price Index for leases older than 30 years.
• Market Impact: Imposing rent caps on land may discourage investment, prevent property redevelopment to its highest use, and undermine the residential ground-lease market.
• Legal Constraints: Legislative interference with existing private contracts may violate the Contract Clause of the U.S. Constitution, which prohibits states from impairing contractual obligations.
• Economic Solution: Maintaining the integrity of property rights and expanding the overall housing supply are presented as the viable alternatives to government-mandated contract revisions.

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Photo by Garrett Lawrence on Unsplash

For decades, residents of Carnegie House enjoyed what looked like a rare bargain at one of Manhattan’s most coveted intersections. Their apartments on 57th Street and Sixth Avenue sold at a steep discount to nearby market prices.

But like over 100 similarly situated “ground-lease” cooperatives across New York City, the low prices came with a catch. Carnegie House does not own the land on which it sits. Instead, its residents own shares in the building while leasing the land from a separate owner—a structure that keeps purchase prices low while shifting long-term risk onto buyers.

Yet Carnegie House’s ground lease recently renewed, and rent owed to the landowner skyrocketed. Shareholders saw their equity values collapse overnight. The co-op now faces the risk of dissolution, a move that would erase what remains of owners’ equity and turn them into rent-stabilized tenants.

The result has been litigation and calls for legislative intervention in Albany. But legislation that interferes with the rights and obligations of a ground lease would likely invite constitutional challenges and set a harmful precedent for property rights and urban land use, with consequences extending far beyond a single building.

Carnegie House’s ground lease has been the subject of concern for years. The lease, signed in 1959, set the building’s annual ground rent at 8.1667 percent of the fair-market value of the unencumbered land, with three 21-year renewal options. That structure worked reasonably well for decades. But when the lease renewed in 2025, soaring land values caused the ground rent to spike by 450 percent, from $4.36 million to $24 million, causing panic among residents.

A legal fight ensued. After an arbitration panel allowed the ground-rent hike to proceed, the co-op appealed the decision to a New York trial court. It lost, leaving residents uncertain about whether the building would default. If that happens, shareholders would see their equity wiped out while remaining responsible for any outstanding mortgage payments. The building itself would revert to rent-stabilized rentals, effectively ending the cooperative.

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The vast majority of New York City’s co-op buildings own the land beneath them, so rising land prices translated into higher share prices. Carnegie House’s shares, by contrast, did not capture this appreciation, which is one reason they traded at lower prices.

That distinction matters. Real estate functions both as a consumable good and a store of value. Demand for a given unit depends largely on two factors: its location and its physical characteristics.

Sometimes a parcel becomes particularly valuable or worthless because of its proximity to a nearby attraction or hazard. Carnegie House, for example, happens to sit along what has become known as “Billionaires Row,” home to multiple ultra-luxury condo towers. Land next to a new power station or homeless shelter, by contrast, may fall in value.

Cities, after all, are labor markets. Land located near centers of productivity and opportunity tend to appreciate over the long run. Since the 1970s, Manhattan land values have risen steadily as the city’s jobs market and economy have grown.

A co-op share or a condo unit in a building that owns its underlying land allows residents to benefit from both proximity to a productive labor market as well as rising land values. But in a ground-lease building like Carnegie House, the landowner carries the risks and rewards associated with the local economy and surrounding area, for better or worse.

Carnegie House’s shareholders can’t plausibly claim they were unaware of the risks associated with a ground lease. Any lawyer seeking to avoid a malpractice claim would inform his client of these dangers. Mortgages for ground-lease co-ops are much harder to secure, and cash purchases are often the only way a buyer can acquire shares at all. These constraints exist because lenders understand that ground leases introduce significant uncertainty, especially as renewal dates approach. According to the landowners, more than 100 units in Carnegie House are held as investment properties—suggesting many buyers were speculating that the lease terms would be overridden or unenforced in some way.

Unfortunately, some lawmakers in Albany are trying to give them the cover they were expecting. Senate Bill S2433 would cap annual ground-rent increases at 3 percent or the consumer price index, whichever is higher, for leases that are 30 years old or more. Capping increases in this way would effectively kill the market for residential ground leases and prevent land from being redeveloped to accommodate new circumstances.

Urban land should generally be free to be priced and redeveloped as circumstances change to achieve its highest and best use. Artificially suppressing ground rents would sever the link between land values and land use, discouraging redevelopment even when economic conditions warrant it. The destruction of the magnificent Gilded Age mansions that once lined Fifth Avenue along Central Park may be lamentable, but it was necessary to allow New York to grow—quite literally—to new heights.

S2433 would also grant co-op owners subject to a ground lease a right of first refusal if the landowner ever sought to sell the lease. Landowners would be required to disclose the price and material terms of any proposed sale and give the co-op up to 120 days to match the offer and purchase the land.

If this sounds familiar, it’s because the proposal nearly matches the Community Opportunity to Purchase Act (COPA), a New York City Council bill nearly passed last fall that would have given qualified nonprofit organizations the right of first refusal when certain residential buildings were put up for sale.

The bill would have introduced delay, uncertainty, and political considerations into ordinary property transactions, discouraging investment. After sustained criticism of the bill—especially in City Journal—COPA fell short of a veto-proof majority. Mayor Eric Adams vetoed the bill, and new City Council Speaker Julie Menin declined to revive it (at least for now).

Despite the harsh consequences for co-op owners, ground leases should be enforced as written, without legislative intervention. For one thing, a bill like S2433 risks violating the Constitution’s Contract Clause, which prohibits states from passing any law “impairing the Obligation of Contracts.”

And if a law like S2433 passes, it would fundamentally undermine the reliability of real property leaseholds. Carnegie House’s owners can’t plausibly claim not to have understood the risks; many bet that they’d get bailed out in some form. Many enjoyed living in a location coveted by billionaires at a relative bargain. The co-op’s board can attempt to purchase the land and charge shareholders a special assessment—as the owners of Trump Plaza did in 2015 without government intervention—but the price would likely be too steep for most Carnegie House owners to bear.

Sympathy for co-op owners caught in bad ground-lease deals is understandable. But legislative relief for Carnegie House would invite appeals from other investors who made bad—or at least risky—deals and now want Albany to rescue them from unfavorable outcomes. If these owners had more housing alternatives available to them, their predicament wouldn’t be quite as dire.

As Albany has proven time and again, measures like S2433 are likely to make a bad deal worse. The real solution lies not in rewriting contracts, but in expanding housing supply.

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Blue States’ Demographic Nightmare Mamdani Needs to Close a $10 Billion Budget Gap. He Should Start with Schools Who We Are: On Civil Terrorism

/ Editors’ Picks/ Reader Spotlight

Until shortly before the coronavirus pandemic, real electricity costs for most American families had been declining for a decade. From 2009 to 2019, the fully loaded cost—that is, the total price per kilowatt-hour including generation, transmission, distribution, and surcharges—rose from 11.5 cents to 13 cents, an increase of 13 percent, well below the 19 percent growth in the Consumer Price Index. Despite inflation, the average annual national rate even ticked down in a few of those years.

That changed in 2019. From that year through 2024, residential rates jumped 27 percent (faster than inflation) to an average of 16.5 cents nationally. These recent price shocks have not been evenly distributed. Most states still saw rates rise more slowly than CPI, meaning that they fell in real terms. The fully loaded cost of a kilowatt-hour today varies more than ever. In 2024, it ranged from 11.5 cents in Nebraska, Idaho, and North Dakota to 29.4 cents in Massachusetts, 32 cents in California, and 42.9 cents in Hawaii.

Much of the rise in the national average stemmed from California’s eye-watering 67 percent increase, the nation’s biggest.

The next largest hikes, as a percentage of 2019 rates, were in the District of Columbia, New York, Maryland, and Maine—all at 36 percent, or roughly 50 percent above inflation.

Electric bills pose a special hazard for the political class because they serve as monthly reminders of policy failure. Public officials scramble to show that they’re “doing something.” New Jersey governor-elect Mikie Sherrill, for instance, has called for rate freezes. Utilities remain a favorite scapegoat for state legislators, even as their rates (and profits) remain tightly regulated by those same states. Some populists, meantime, blame data centers for consuming massive quantities of electricity. But today’s high prices stem from decisions made years ago by governments and the utilities they regulate. Much of the recent increase was purposeful—indeed, avoidable—and the worst is likely still to come.

Electric rates have two main components: the cost of generating power; and what transmission and delivery companies—mostly utilities—are paid to deliver it. For most of the past century, this boiled down to a single rate set by a local electric monopoly, with the blessing of state utility regulators.

Beginning in the late 1990s, deregulation swept the country as many states, including New York, Texas, and California, required utilities to sell off their power plants. Generators would compete in newly created wholesale markets, while utilities focused on maintaining and operating their parts of the grid. The new landscape attracted fresh capital, with high prices serving as a beacon for investment where the need was greatest. Much of the added capacity came from natural-gas plants, taking advantage of the vast new supply unlocked by the fracking boom.

Gas fueled a transformation in American power generation. In 2008, half of U.S. electricity still came from coal, while natural gas and nuclear each provided about 20 percent. By 2024, gas was supplying 42 percent of the grid, and coal had fallen to just 16 percent.

The consumer benefits of cheap gas obscured the extent to which state governments, prodded by environmentalists, were deliberately making electricity more expensive. One method was requiring power plants to pay for their carbon-dioxide emissions through “cap-and-trade” programs. Ten Northeast and Mid-Atlantic states, including New York, participate in the Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative (RGGI).

The cost of these allowances has surged in recent years. In 2019, the four RGGI allowance auctions brought in $284 million. The four most recent rounds took in $1.4 billion, with costs passed on to ratepayers and the windfalls flowing to state governments to divvy up. New England’s grid operator, ISO–NE, estimated that RGGI compliance pushed up prices from gas plants (the region’s main power source) by 0.7 cents to 1 cent per kilowatt-hour.

California and Washington also operate emissions-allowance systems for fossil-fuel power plants. California’s grid operator estimated that the requirement added roughly 1.6 cents per kilowatt-hour “for a relatively efficient gas unit” in 2024.

All nine mainland states where residential electric rates have risen by 4 cents or more since 2019 were either part of RGGI or California. These gas-related up-charges weren’t the only factor, but they undeniably work at cross-purposes with the affordability concerns that many governors now voice.

Another driver of rising electricity costs is nuclear-power subsidies. The low gas prices of the 2010s prompted five states—New York, Ohio, New Jersey, Illinois, and Connecticut—to craft subsidy deals for nuclear plants that had previously been profitable. The cost of that assistance, about $500 million for New York in 2024, was passed along to customers.

More states have enacted renewable-energy mandates, requiring utilities and large customers to pay premiums for projects that often wouldn’t be built otherwise, even with separate federal subsidies. The solar panels now tiled atop upstate New York farmland are a vivid example. Beyond closing that price gap, adding new renewables—especially in remote areas—imposes additional interconnection and transmission costs, which states expect utilities to absorb and then “recover” through rate cases.

Intermittent renewables have distorted electricity markets. Grid operators need additional plants connected and ready for times when wind lulls or clouds cut output. That is capacity that must be paid for—which ultimately drives up costs.

Especially over the last decade, state governments have pushed for what can fairly be described as the biggest transformation of the grid since the last rural homes got electric lights after World War II.

Skyline-defining power plants sending high-voltage transmission lines to the horizon are no longer the grid’s defining image. The rise of “behind-the-meter” generation, particularly rooftop solar, means that electricity is now flowing both to and from homes. That shift has changed how much energy utilities deliver from power plants and, with it, how the costs of running local distribution networks get allocated. Ratepayers have gone from simply maintaining the grid to underwriting its transformation.

The Washington Post reported last October that supply prices had fallen, in nominal dollars, by 35 percent since 2005 (chiefly between 2010 and 2020) but that transmission and distribution charges had more than doubled, up 141 percent and 181 percent, respectively. Falling supply costs concealed rising delivery expenses, until they couldn’t.

Part of the increase in delivery expenses reflects utilities facing the same inflationary pressures as their customers. Utility wages rose—and with them, utility delivery rates. But utilities’ role was also changing almost as much as the grid itself, as companies were pushed out of the generation business and pulled deeper into the climate-industrial complex.

Even before Covid, utilities’ capital expenditures were rising faster than inflation. They leaped 44 percent between 2019 and 2024, an Edison Electric Institute review found. Covid disruptions made grid hardware scarcer—and more costly. The Producer Price Index for electric transformers, measuring the price of producing key grid-related components, surged more than 60 percent in 18 months, starting in late 2020.

The price of state and federal efforts to reconfigure electricity supplies has spilled far beyond generation alone and into the rising outlays for transmission and distribution. Demand for hardware—and the associated charges—has been driven up by state climate policies. Utilities in states with aggressive mandates are now accommodating more interconnections from small generators (mostly wind turbines and solar panels) than ever before. New York alone has approved more than $8 billion in transmission upgrades, prompted almost entirely by its 2019 climate law. The deluge of state and federal subsidies encouraged developers to build more projects—especially rural wind turbines—than the grid could readily receive. Residential customers bear the bulk of the expense.

“Too much of the permitting process depends on who is in the White House and whether he roots more for oil exploration or for offshore wind.”

Some of these programs, such as energy-efficiency incentives, can theoretically pay for themselves by “shaving” the amount of generation needed to meet peak demand for just a few hours in the hottest afternoons each summer. In other cases, though, the delivery charge becomes a vehicle for adding new expenses. It is a handy mechanism—an alternative to raising state taxes—for making people fund initiatives that policymakers want but prefer not to budget for, such as shifting customers to electric heat pumps (which, in turn, increase grid demand).

Climate policy is a major driver of rising electricity charges but isn’t the only one. Recent bills have also climbed as utilities recover the cost of uncollectible accounts. Arrears have always existed, but they swelled in 2020, first as households fell behind and then as states blocked utilities from disconnecting nonpaying customers. Nationally, households remain more than $15 billion in utility arrears, up from $10 billion in early 2022. As these balances become officially uncollectible, the burden will shift to other ratepayers. On top of that, states are experimenting with new forms of income-based electricity pricing, which will discourage conservation while pushing up other customers’ costs.

How can we make electricity more affordable? It starts by identifying Public Enemy Number One: uncertainty.

Fortunately, strong interest remains in generating and delivering electricity more efficiently, and opportunities abound. New or upgraded power plants and transmission lines remain attractive investments, especially as older coal facilities retire. But many projects never get off the ground because the path from approval and construction to interconnection and operation is so murky.

The arduous process for federal permitting, including environmental reviews under the 1969 National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), hinders major interstate transmission projects that would better connect generation with the places where it is needed. The duration of reviews has lessened in recent years, but most still take more than two years to complete. Litigation remains a preferred, and effective, weapon for project opponents.

Too much of the permitting process depends on who occupies the White House and whether he roots more for oil exploration or for offshore wind. The June 2023 debt-ceiling legislation made modest changes to narrow the scope of certain NEPA reviews, but more can be done, including stricter limits on when lawsuits can be filed and steps to create more predictability in the system.

At the state level, unattainable climate targets—such as New York’s plan to more than double its renewable generation in the next five years—are preventing new, more efficient gas plants from replacing older, less reliable units. Several states have begun recognizing that they are purposefully making electricity less affordable in pursuit of objectively unreachable greenhouse-gas reduction goals. These choices often conflict with other state priorities, including affordability and reliability. States can relax such targets (some immediately) to ease rate pressures.

As for natural gas, Congress could curb states’ ability to misuse the Clean Water Act. New York has invoked the law to block pipelines serving New England, where gas-starved power plants must switch to burning oil on the coldest winter days. Setting aside the broader trade-offs involved in reducing emissions, some state legislatures have also adopted “carbon-free” or “zero-emissions” rules for the electric sector that would require power plants to stop using natural gas as soon as 2040. These deadlines create major obstacles for siting or financing more efficient plants that could not just lower costs but also improve reliability and reduce emissions in the meantime.

States have also increased expenses by mandating specific technologies within the broader category of renewables. New York, for instance, has committed its utilities and large customers to subsidizing 9,000 megawatts of offshore wind—arguably the least economical form of generation and one that would necessitate the addition of almost unimaginable amounts of battery storage for periods when the turbines don’t spin. Instead, states should take a more pragmatic approach to adding zero-emissions resources. A technology-agnostic framework, along with a freeze on mandatory renewable-purchase volumes, would ease upward pressure on electric rates, since new projects typically arrive with a fresh invoice for subsidies.

State lawmakers like using utilities as political punching bags, and utilities that punch back do so at great risk to their ability to operate. The result is predictable: utilities often agree to play the villain and the bagman, collecting funds and carrying out tasks that lawmakers don’t want to vote for, secure in the knowledge that their rate hikes will be approved. New Yorkers would be surprised to learn that the state’s energy agency holds more U.S. Treasury bills ($1.9 billion) than some banks, chiefly because it has been collecting money indirectly from electricity customers faster than it can be spent. That’s only possible because customers can’t see it happening.

An immediate, and overdue, step that state governments could take is fully to disclose how much their own policy choices are inflating electric bills. States should allow, and perhaps oblige, utilities to be more forthright about how much of a customer’s bill reflects market conditions, how much results from government mandates, and how little of the remainder represents actual profit. At a minimum, utilities should itemize the premiums that customers pay for RGGI or other emissions programs, the outlays for energy credits and subsidies, and the added cost from transmission or other grid build-outs required by state climate goals.

No state tells ratepayers the full story, though a few have made halting moves toward transparency. Connecticut, better than most, now breaks charges into four buckets: supply, federally regulated transmission, local distribution, and a “public benefit” line that includes its power-purchase deal with the Millstone nuclear plant. New York went in the other direction. In 2017, it barred utilities from showing the price of nuclear subsidies, and it has kept most renewable-energy expenses out of sight as well.

Without reform, the price pressures will only intensify. Near-total electrification—New York’s goal, and that of several other states—will require more than doubling the power delivered to some regions that still rely on fuel for home and building heat. Customers will keep receiving utility bills that feel too high and explain too little. But the utility is only the messenger, not the culprit. The real authors of those bills are the elected officials who designed, and still want, the system to work this way.  

This article is part of “An Affordability Agenda,” a symposium that appears in City Journal’s Winter 2026 issue.

Photo: Nationally, residential electricity rates jumped 27 percent from 2019 to 2024—with some states showing much greater increases. (Dominic Gentilcore/Alamy Stock Photo)

As public support wanes, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has become the target of nationwide protests. While many of these protests are peaceful and popular, they have also created an opening for aggressive activist networks with long histories of revolutionary politics. Some of these groups are moving beyond lawful dissent, with organizers and online channels increasingly promoting confrontation, disruption, and other unlawful actions against federal authorities.

Two leading anti-ICE groups are Centro Community Service Organization (Centro CSO) and the Freedom Road Socialist Organization (FRSO). Both have been subjected to federal scrutiny, including raids by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Working variously through local chapters and affiliate networks, both groups have pushed militancy into protests that were once nonviolent.

Even organizations in the progressive mainstream, including the Sunrise Movement and 50501, have become entangled in this ecosystem through coalition alignment and tactical approaches that involve acknowledged legal violations or heightened legal exposure.

What began as criticism of federal immigration policy is now tied up with illegal, targeted agitation campaigns. Anti-ICE Democrats and centrists need to take responsibility for policing their movements, or they risk being seen as willing participants in escalating radicalism.

A demonstration organized by the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee. (Photo by: Michael Siluk/UCG/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

Much of this radical momentum is channeled through FRSO, which plays a central role in “big tent” coalitions. These coalitions often coalesce around popular causes, such as opposition to President Donald Trump, and offer logistical infrastructure for protests, ranging from social media promotion to on-the-ground leadership, along with established networks of allies prepared to mobilize in the streets on a moment’s notice.

FRSO chapters are listed as a member and steering committee member, respectively, of the People’s Action Coalition Against Trump in Minnesota and the Coalition Against the Trump Agenda in Chicago.

While mainstream progressives are often attracted to these groups, FRSO does not necessarily consider the normal Left its allies. Mira Altobell-Resendez, an organizer with the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee (MIRAC) and FRSO member, made that clear on a podcast earlier this month: “All of our movements that have been active here [in Minneapolis] have an enemy with Jacob Frey and with Tim Walz.”

In the same podcast interview, Altobell-Resendez mocked what she described as Governor Tim Walz’s threat to deploy the National Guard to “keep down riots,” arguing that politicians use the word “riots” to describe “people who are rightfully expressing their anger at this system.”

Despite criticizing some elected Democrats, Altobell-Resendez has collaborated publicly with others, including at a protest with Representative Ilhan Omar. This demonstrates how easily FRSO affiliates move between mainstream Democratic and radical activist spaces.

But Altobell-Resendez is a committed radical and has supported illegal actions. On a recent FRSO webinar, she stated, “Just because, like, something is illegal doesn’t mean that we won’t do it,” before adding a caveat about not wanting “to put us in hot water.”

She is just one cog in a broader network that includes more mainstream organizations, such as Black Lives Matter and the anti-Trump organization 50501—both of whose Minnesota chapters are part of a coalition with FRSO Twin Cities—and the eco-activist Sunrise Movement.

Sunrise partnered with Altobell-Resendez’s organization, MIRAC, to target hotels hosting ICE agents, banging pots and pans and pressing car horns in a “wake-up” operation. Leaders within the Sunrise Movement have openly acknowledgedtheir awareness that these actions can violate the law.

Representative Kelly Morrison, Representative Ilhan Omar, and Representative Angie Craig. (Photo by Octavio JONES / AFP via Getty Images)

Some of the most fervent—and sometimes violent—anti-ICE activity has happened in California.

One of the leading anti-ICE organizers in the region is Centro CSO. The group emerged in the 1990s by reviving and repurposing the historic CSO name associated with its predecessor, the “Community Service Organization,” which trained Cesar Chavez.

Carlos Montes has led Centro CSO since the 1990s. During this period, he “self-recruited” into the Freedom Road Socialist Organization (FRSO). He reportedly believed a revolutionary organization such as FRSO would better aid him in the “fight for Chicano liberation and socialism.” He is not the only Centro CSO member also to be in FRSO.

Centro CSO is alsolisted as a “supporting organization” for the national Legalization For All network, a large coalition of activists and groups advocating for the legalization of all illegal immigrants.

Leaders of Centro CSO are clear about the tactics they endorse. At a major conference in Chicago this past fall, one member described confronting ICE vehicles in Los Angeles.

“You should have seen how f*cking scared they were when a couple dozen Chicanos surrounded their unmarked black tinted truck,” Gabriel Quiroz Jr., a Centro CSO member, said. He mentioned that a number of WayMo cars caught fire “by accident,” prompting laughter from the audience.

On a separate movement call late last month, FRSO member, Legalization for All signatory, and Centro CSO leader Carlos Montes highlighted a “spontaneous upsurge of thousands of young people” that “took over the streets” and occupied freeways in Los Angeles for a day in February 2025 to protest the Trump administration. He called the effort a “community self-defense coalition.” According to Montes, these actions have inspired “a whole new generation of young activists” to join Centro CSO.

On that same call, Marisol Marquez—a member of FRSO, Centro CSO, and Legalization for All—noted that the Legalization for All network trained activists in other cities on “barrio walks,” “rapid response networks,” and coordinated responses to ICE activity during attempted raids.

Centro CSO’s tactics and ideas are spreading into the mainstream anti-ICE movement, too. Ron Gochez, a leading academic activist who has been involved in ICE watch activities, publicly thanked the group for leading a local protest. Centro CSO also hosted the Emergency Southwest Summit Against Deportations, which was attended by more than 150 activists and featured workshops on “topics like how to set up rapid response systems and barrio organizing, fighting deportations, how to fight for and win sanctuary cities and schools, and how to build coalitions to fight back.”

FRSO and Centro CSO have faced federal scrutiny in recent years. Last summer, the FBI seized electronics from a Centro CSO member and raided another’s home. That second member was arrested and charged, though the Department of Justice later dropped the charges.

Federal focus on these groups is not restricted to the Trump administration. During President Barack Obama’s first term, Montes and other FRSO leaders faced raids of their own. The Department of Justice also investigated the organization for material support of terrorism; it remains unclear why the DOJ did not pursue charges.

Popular animus toward ICE has created an opening for the FRSO and Centro CSO. These groups’ goal is not merely reform. The goal, as FRSO member Chrisley Carpio put it, is to “lead ever larger numbers of people into confrontations with the enemy.”

In spite of this radicalism, groups like FRSO and Centro CSO are increasingly welcomed into the anti-ICE tent. Progressives can police their movements to drive out such radicals—or risk giving in to their most dangerous ideas.

Top Photo: A demonstration organized by the Minnesota Immigrant Rights Action Committee (Photo by Mostafa Bassim/Anadolu via Getty Images)

• Solar Phenomena: The Sun emits solar wind consisting of charged particles, and Coronal Mass Ejections (CMEs) release radiation and plasma that can cause geomagnetic superstorms upon reaching Earth.
• Atmospheric Expansion: During intense space weather events, solar particles heat the upper atmosphere, causing it to expand and increase density at altitudes where satellites operate.
• Orbital Drag: Satellites in Low Earth Orbit (LEO), such as the Starlink constellation, experience three to five times more atmospheric friction during these storms.
• Altitude Loss: Increased drag leads to orbital decay, resulting in satellites losing several hundred meters of altitude shortly after a solar event commences.
• Countermeasures: Satellite propulsion systems are activated in real-time to perform station-keeping maneuvers, countering drag to regain lost altitude.
• Connectivity Degradation: Network measurements during the May 2024 superstorm revealed packet loss and Round-Trip Time (RTT) increases, sometimes doubling the latency to over 100ms.
• Geographic Variation: The impact of solar activity on internet performance is inconsistent across different global regions, with some areas showing significant disruption while others remain stable.
• Measurement Limitations: Proprietary network operations and a data bias toward North America and Europe limit the ability to conduct a comprehensive root-cause analysis of satellite link failures.

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Ever wondered if a massive explosion in the sun could impact your Internet connectivity? 

It’s not science fiction. When a solar storm hits Earth, it can have real-world consequences, and satellite networks like Starlink are on the front lines.  

But how does this happen? What is a solar storm, and how does it interfere with your Internet? To draw a clear perspective, let’s start with space weather. 

What is space weather? 

The space weather near Earth is mainly driven by the Sun. The Sun continuously emits a stream of charged particles (protons, electrons, and so on), or plasma, known as the solar wind. Occasionally, a Coronal Mass Ejection (CME) — a massive eruption from the Sun — can release extreme ultraviolet radiation, X-rays, or a burst of dense, hot, high-velocity plasma into outer space, often carrying strong electromagnetic fields (see Figure 1). 

Figure 1 — Coronal Mass Ejection from the surface of the Sun. Image generated with AI.

Sometimes, our planet falls in the pathway of such a solar eruption, and radiation shock waves sweep through, causing disturbances in Earth’s magnetic field known as a ‘geomagnetic storm’. When the intensity of these disturbances falls approximately below –350 nanotesla (nT), the event is considered a ‘superstorm’.

In May 2024, Earth was hit by such a superstorm. See the animated Video 1, which demonstrates how multiple solar eruptions on 8 May 2024 smashed into our Earth on 11 May 2024 at 800 kilometres per second (km/s). That led to the May 2024 solar superstorm, which reached a peak intensity of –412nT. 

Video 1 — The Sun is at the centre, and the Earth is the black dot on the right side. The radiation shock waves are sweeping through the Earth at 800km/s. Source. 

How a solar storm hits a satellite 

Starlink satellites are deployed in Low Earth Orbit (LEO). The majority are orbiting Earth at an altitude of 500km to 600km, where the atmosphere is very thin, almost negligible.  

During extreme space weather events, the interaction of charged particles from the Sun heats the upper atmosphere (thermosphere and exosphere) and causes it to expand, sometimes by as much as 100km. Therefore, a satellite designed for a thin atmosphere suddenly experiences a thicker layer of atmosphere, which causes much higher drag (atmospheric friction). 

We at the Department of Computer Science & Engineering, IIT Kanpur, developed a data-driven, open-source tool called CosmicDance to analyse such events at scale. CosmicDance ingests publicly available, real-world solar radiation intensity and satellite trajectory datasets and generates insights on satellite trajectory changes that took place shortly after solar events. 

Using this tool, we show in Figures 2 and 3 how Starlink satellites reacted. We picked five Starlink satellites and plotted their orbital drag (Figure 2) and altitude (Figure 3). Notice that after the superstorm’s commencement on 11 May 2024, at 2:00 UTC, the satellites began experiencing 3-5X more drag than their baselines. As a result, the satellites started losing altitude by a few 100 metres.  

To countermeasure this orbital decay, Starlink satellites likely initiated station-keeping manoeuvres. Notice that the orbital drag falls below zero as the satellites start gaining altitude. Later, Starlink, in their report to the FCC, mentioned that the satellite propulsion system kicked in ‘in real-time’ to counter the orbital drag, which supports our observations from CosmicDance. 

Figure 2 — Orbital drag experienced by five Starlink satellites.

Figure 3 — Altitude from the sea level of five Starlink satellites.

The implications for network connectivity 

In our recent work, we investigated the implications of such events for connectivity. For this, we collected built-in periodic ping measurements from 96 RIPE Atlas probes connected to Starlink’s Autonomous System Number (ASN 14593), located across 24 economies. 

We found that many probes experienced spikes in packet loss and increased Round-Trip Time (RTT) during the May 2024 solar superstorm. For instance, notice the RTT from probe ID 62741 in Colorado, US (Figure 4), where the recorded RTT during the superstorm was above 100ms — more than 2X the 40 to 60ms on usual days. 

Figure 4 — Pings from RIPE Atlas probe (62741) in Colorado, US.

However, now notice the RTT from probe ID 61081 in North Carolina, US (Figure 5), where the recorded RTT during the superstorm shows only a slight inflation compared to other days, indicating a less severe impact. 

Figure 5 — Pings from RIPE Atlas probe (61081) in North Carolina, US.

Key takeaways 

Our key observations provide evidence of the connectivity implications for LEO networks during geomagnetic storms. The magnitude of these implications is not consistent across different regions on Earth. 

Starlink’s proprietary system offers limited visibility into its network operations, preventing a deep investigation into the root cause of packet loss and RTT inflation over satellite links. It is also important to note that the available network measurement data for Starlink is skewed towards North America and Europe. 

As Starlink continues its expansion to other parts of the world, and as other LEO satellite Internet providers (like Amazon’s Project Kuiper, Guowang, and OneWeb) start consumer service with significant satellite fleets, future research will likely benefit from more geo-diverse datasets. This will enable much more in-depth investigations into the resilience of our growing space-based Internet infrastructure. 

For more details on the study, read our paper ‘An investigation of Starlink’s performance during the May ’24 solar superstorm’.

Suvam Basak is a PhD student at IIT Kanpur. His research interests lie in the simulation and evaluation of LEO satellites’ connectivity.  

Amitangshu Pal and Debopam Bhattacherjee contributed to this work.

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The views expressed by the authors of this blog are their own and do not necessarily reflect the views of APNIC. Please note a Code of Conduct applies to this blog.

• ASSET-FREEZE: Turkish authorities frozen over $544 million in assets belonging to Veysel Sahin, an individual accused of operating illegal betting platforms and laundering criminal proceeds.
• CORPORATE-COOPERATION: Tether Holdings SA, the issuer of the USDT stablecoin, identified itself as the entity that executed the asset freeze at the request of the Istanbul chief prosecutor.
• LAW-ENFORCEMENT-PARTNERSHIP: CEO Paolo Ardoino confirmed the company actively collaborates with global agencies, including the DOJ and FBI, to comply with national laws regarding illicit financial activity.
• ENFORCEMENT-SCALE: Total Turkish seizures in recent crackdowns have exceeded $1 billion, including an additional $500 million in cryptoassets frozen during separate money laundering investigations.
• SURVEILLANCE-METHODS: Turkish officials utilized "financial traces" and cryptoasset analysis to identify and follow the movement of income derived from suspected illegal betting and payment systems.
• BLACKLISTING-TRENDS: Industry reports indicate Tether and Circle Internet Group Inc. have blacklisted approximately 5,700 digital wallets containing $2.5 billion as of late 2025 to mitigate criminal usage.
• MARKET-VALUATION: Tether is currently seeking capital at a valuation target of $500 billion, highlighting its record of assisting in 1,800 cases across 62 countries to freeze $3.4 billion in USDT.
• REGULATORY-REINTEGRATION: Following prior settlements and regulatory friction, the company has returned to the U.S. market with the USAT stablecoin and participated in federal legislative ceremonies.

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On Jan. 30, Turkish authorities announced the freezing of more than half a billion dollars in assets owned by Veysel Sahin, who is accused of running illegal betting platforms and laundering criminal proceeds. An unidentified crypto company carried out the freeze at Turkey’s request, Istanbul’s chief prosecutor said.

That company was Tether Holdings SA, issuer of the $185 billion stablecoin USDT — part of its recent push to aid governments around the world in crackdowns against crypto’s use in a range of alleged crimes, from money laundering to drug trafficking to evading sanctions.

“Law enforcement came to us, they provided some information, we looked at the information and we acted in respect of the laws of the country,” Tether Chief Executive Officer Paolo Ardoino said in a recent interview with Bloomberg News. “And that’s what we do when we work with the DOJ, when we work with the FBI, you name it.”

Tether CEO Paolo Ardoino speaks during an event in El Salvador on Jan. 30.Photographer: Camilo Freedman/Bloomberg

Tether had no further comment on the case. Bloomberg’s attempts to reach Sahin were unsuccessful. A Turkish official declined to name the company cited in the prosecutor’s statement.

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The €460 million ($544 million) freeze is part of a wider enforcement effort in Turkey that’s already amounted to more than $1 billion in seized assets. Days after the Sahin announcement, $500 million of cryptoassets belonging to another individual in an investigation into alleged money laundering and illegal betting was also frozen, broadcaster NTV reported. It is unclear whether that seizure involved Tether’s token.

The authorities uncovered “financial traces” of alleged illicit income by following the money and analyzing cryptoassets, the Turkish official told Bloomberg, speaking on condition of anonymity to discuss a sensitive legal matter. Similar asset seizures targeting organizers of suspected illegal betting and payment systems should be expected, the official said.

For Tether, it’s the latest in a rising tide of fund-freezing that underscores the extent to which the crypto giant has ramped up its efforts to work in concert with global law enforcement agencies.

A report published in January by analytics firm Elliptic showed that Tether and rival Circle Internet Group Inc. had blacklisted around 5,700 wallets containing some $2.5 billion as of late 2025, up from a paltry sum two years ago. Three-quarters of those wallets held USDT at the time of freezing.

“As legitimate adoption and global payment integration have accelerated, illicit usage has also grown, prompting issuers to intervene more actively,” said Arda Akartuna, Elliptic’s crypto threat intelligence lead for Asia-Pacific.

Sharp Turnaround

Tether routinely touts its efforts to stamp out criminality — including during discussions with potential investors, as it seeks to raise capital at a valuation as high as $500 billion. Tether says it has assisted law enforcement on more than 1,800 cases in 62 countries, resulting in $3.4 billion in frozen USDT associated with alleged illicit activities, according to its website.

“They’re extremely cooperative,” Nathan McCauley, co-founder and chief executive officer of Tether partner Anchorage Digital Bank, said in an interview. The firm has “noticeably the best reputation” of the stablecoin issuers among enforcement agencies, he added.

Anchorage is the issuer of Tether’s USAT, a US-compliant digital dollar that Tether launched in late-January, signaling a return to the US market.

Read more: Tether Returns to US Market With Launch of USAT Stablecoin

It’s a sharp turnaround from just a few years ago when Tether had a much less friendly relationship with US authorities. The company had largely steered clear of the US since 2018 after clashes with regulators, and paid $41 million in 2021 to settle allegations that it had misrepresented its reserves.

However, the second Trump administration has welcomed the crypto industry, including Tether, with open arms. Ardoino was one of several executives who joined President Donald Trump for his signing of a law to regulate stablecoins last year.

Paolo Ardoino, chief executive officer of Tether Holdings Ltd., is recognized by US President Donald Trump, not pictured, during a signing ceremony for the GENIUS Act in the White House on July 18.Photographer: Al Drago/Bloomberg

Even so, Tether’s flagship token USDT continues to draw scrutiny over the extent to which authorities say it is relied on by criminals.

On Jan. 9, the US Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of Virginia announced that it had charged a Venezuelan national with laundering $1 billion in illicit funds, mostly by using USDT. Elliptic recently published a report suggesting the Central Bank of Iran bought more than $500 million of USDT to mitigate a currency crisis and bypass US sanctions.

The Turkish fugitive Sahin has been accused of heading an organization that launders the profits of illegal online betting platforms. Sahin was handed a 10-and-a-half-year prison sentence in 2017, but was released in 2023, according to local media, including the newspapers Birgun and Sabah.

A month later he was sentenced to 21 years in prison. His whereabouts are unknown, though the state-run Anadolu Agency reported on Jan. 30 that “proceedings for his return to Turkey continue.”