Friday, December 18, 2020

Real climate solutions won’t happen without natural gas and oil

 


https://www.washingtonpost.com/brand-studio/wp/2020/12/14/real-climate-solutions-wont-happen-without-natural-gas-and-oil/Real climate solutions won’t happen without natural gas and oil

Energy from U.S. natural gas and oil is fundamental to economic recovery and addressing climate change goals.

Any student of U.S. history knows that America met the greatest challenges of our past — the Great Depression, World War II, the Cold War, the space race — by eclipsing the politics of the moment and working together. People put our country first. That’s not to say that everyone agreed, but Americans came together for the greater good and a common purpose.

With a pandemic that has tested Americans in ways few others have, it is once again time to focus on problem solving and progress, not partisanship. As President-elect Joe Biden, Vice President-elect Kamala Harris and new members of the House and Senate have indicated in preparing to take office, their first task will be supporting distribution of a historic vaccine.

But other priorities await, including solutions to three other important 21st-century challenges that remain — rebuilding the economy after a devastating pandemic, providing the affordable energy needed to fuel recovery and our modern way of life and addressing global climate challenges.


U.S. natural gas and oil have already taken some big leaps to support progress in all three areas.  As the country sheltered in place to ride out the pandemic, the natural gas and oil industry reliably provided the majority of affordable and reliable energy needed domestically, while displacing coal and other sources for power generation across the world by exporting cleaner natural gas to support emissions reduction goals. The U.S. has driven carbon emissions down to generational lows, even as U.S. energy production and energy demand have grown. And American energy produced today has a 90% smaller surface footprint than in the past and is produced cleaner than almost anywhere in the world. In citing this progress, we do not diminish or overlook the challenges before us; we understand firsthand how much more work there is to be done together.

Yet there are many inaccurate characterizations of our industry as outdated or inhibiting progress. It’s worth them taking another look and seeing for themselves the high-tech industry that has eclipsed these false narratives.

For example, you may not know it, but today natural gas and oil invests more than the entire federal government in transformative clean energy technologies. We’re capturing emissions and using them for other manufacturing processes. So yes — we proudly recycle.

Meanwhile, our products are the building blocks for millions of products that line store shelves. Natural gas and oil provide fuel, power or other material for nearly every other industry.

Discussions on energy policy and addressing climate challenges are incomplete without the experience, innovation and expertise of America’s natural gas and oil skilled workforce.

How We’re Meeting the Moment

Energy companies’ commitment to problem solving has never been clearer. In recent months, our industry has overcome strong headwinds — an abrupt drop in demand, an oil price war and a hollowed-out economy — to keep the lights on and support a nation in crisis.

Amid unprecedented challenges, we’ve maintained our focus on reducing greenhouse gas emissions and investing in technology to help us further reduce our environmental footprint. Several efforts are worth spotlighting:

  • Transitioning to Cleaner Natural Gas: Domestically produced natural gas is now the leading source of electricity generation in the U.S., replacing coal — a cleaner-energy trend that is widely expected to continue going forward. This substitution helped bring U.S. carbon dioxide emissions to generational lows in 2019. The S. Energy Information Administrationrecently reported that 61% of emission reductions in the power sector between 2005 and 2019 resulted from substituting natural gas for coal. Worldwide, the coal-to-natural gas shift has reduced carbon dioxide emissions by 500 million metric tons, according to the International Energy Agency.
  • Reducing Methane Emissions: The Environmental Partnership — an alliance of 86 companies using new and proven technology to reduce methane emissions in natural gas and oil production and transmission — has tripled its membership since its launch in December 2017. This year, multiple pipeline companies joined the effort. Participating companies use cutting-edge technology to identify and repair leaks and deploy new low-emissions tools nationwide. These efforts and others have led to a 23% decrease in methane emissions from petroleum and natural gas production, even as production increased nearly 70% from 1990 to 2018. The Partnership is also partnering with Colorado State University’s Methane Emissions Technology Evaluation Center to help test and advance the next generation of methane detection tools.
  • Ramping Up Carbon Capture: Natural gas and oil companies have made significant investments in carbon capture, utilization and storage (CCUS) technology, which removes carbon dioxide emissions and then either stores the carbon dioxide deep underground or uses it in manufacturing projects. There are nearly 70 CCUS projects worldwide — many administered by natural gas and oil companies — that are either running or in development. When these systems are fully operational, they will store millions of tons of carbon each year that otherwise would have been released into the atmosphere.

U.S. Policies Must Promote — Not Stifle — Climate Innovation and Progress

Even with this progress, we stand at a defining moment for the nation’s energy future, and the choices policymakers make during the next Congress will determine whether we build on America’s energy progress or shift to foreign energy sources with weaker environmental standards.

But it is clear that energy production and emission reduction can exist with economic growth. Since 2008 we have seen significant emission reductions from the use of natural gas in power generation, more than what some were predicting at the time. Domestic oil production has also reduced consumer price shocks and our dependence on foreign sources. All the while, the U.S. economy has continued to grow. This connection is important to understand as natural gas and oil will still be needed in the future. The International Energy Agency’s Sustainable Development Scenario — which outlines one path on how the world can tackle climate change — projects that in 2040, even if all the Paris Agreement goals are met, natural gas and oil still will comprise nearly half of the global energy mix.


Understanding energy’s critical role in society and pathways for emission reductions is the only way we’ll balance goals and advance on these issues. Imposing redundant regulations or hampering U.S. energy permits or delaying necessary energy infrastructure will hurt U.S. energy and environmental progress — not to mention American jobs and national security.

Our industry makes up a portion of global emissions and we are committed to taking action and innovating to reduce our environmental footprint. It’s what we’ve been doing and will continue to do. This ongoing work — aided by smart, pro-growth policies — will make it possible to reduce emissions, strengthen the economy and provide the energy America and the world need.

We’re eager to partner with the federal government to research the next generation of carbon capture technology. We’ll also need additional investments in the infrastructure that will allow the U.S. to remain a dominant energy power and minimize our dependency on unreliable foreign actors.

Innovation and 21st-century policies, not political stalemates, will help us move forward.

Collaborative Solutions for All

Of course, we cannot solve the challenges of global climate change in isolation. Federal and state governments, global partners, nonprofits and all industries must be at the table sharing expertise and lessons learned to arrive at workable, pragmatic solutions that serve the common good.

We know, too, that we’ll encounter those who are skeptical of our commitment to finding climate change solutions. To these people, we can only point to the challenges we’ve met, the technology we’ve adopted and the investments we’ll continue to make.

These are not the actions of an industry on the fence. On the contrary, they reflect the work of a serious, thoughtful and skilled workforce committed to working with the president-elect, vice president-elect and incoming Congress to forge real, enduring solutions.

We understand that there is much more to do to meet the challenges of our times. But the natural gas and oil industry recognizes the magnitude of what we face, and we are confident that we can help to bring about change that serves both people and our planet.

 

______________________

The content is paid for and supplied by advertiser. The Washington Post was not involved in the creation of this content.


Thursday, December 10, 2020

The End of Oil Is Near The pandemic may send the petroleum industry to the grave

https://www.sierraclub.org/sierra/2020-5-september-october/feature/end-oil-near#.X5dBl2gJEfE.twitter


ILLUSTRATIONS BY BRIAN STAUFFER

THIS PAST SPRING, coastlines around the globe took on the feel of an enemy invasion as hundreds of massive oil tankers overwhelmed seaports from South Africa to Singapore. Locals and industry analysts alike used the word armada—typically applied to fleets of warships—to describe scenes such as when a group of tankers left Saudi Arabia en masse and another descended on China. One distressed news article proclaimed that a “floating hoard” of oil sat in tankers anchored across the North Sea, “everywhere from the UK to France and the Netherlands.” In April, the US Coast Guard shared an alarming video that showed dozens of tankers spread out for miles along California’s coast.

On May 12, Greenpeace activists sailed into San Francisco Bay to issue a challenge to the public. In front of the giant Amazon Falcon oil tanker—which had been docked in the bay for weeks, loaded up with Chevron oil—they unfurled a banner reading, “Oil Is Over! The Future Is Up to You.”

The oil industry has turned the oceans into aquatic parking lots—floating storage facilities holding, at their highest levels in early May, some 390 million barrels of crude oil and refined products like gasoline. Between March and May, the amount of oil “stored” at sea nearly tripled, and it has yet to abate in many parts of the world.

See through oil barrelThis tanker invasion is only one piece of a dangerous buildup in oil supply that is the result of an unprecedented global glut. The coronavirus pandemic has gutted demand, resulting in the current surplus, but it merely exacerbated a problem that’s been plaguing the oil industry for years: the incessant overproduction of a product that the world is desperately trying to wean itself from, with growing success.

Today, the global oil industry is in a tailspin. Demand has cratered, prices have collapsed, and profits are shrinking. The oil majors (giant global corporations including BP, Chevron, and Shell) are taking billions of dollars in losses while cutting tens of thousands of jobs. Smaller companies are declaring bankruptcy, and investors are looking elsewhere for returns. Significant changes to when, where, and how much oil will be produced, and by whom, are already underway. It is clear that the oil industry will not recover from COVID-19 and return to its former self. What form it ultimately takes, or whether it will even survive, is now very much an open question.

Under President Donald Trump, the United States has joined other petroleum superpowers in efforts to maintain oil’s dominance. While government bailout programs and subsidies could provide the lifeline the industry needs to stay afloat, such policies will likely throw good money after bad. As Sarah Bloom Raskin, a former Federal Reserve governor and former deputy secretary of the Treasury, has written, “Even in the short term, fossil fuels are a terrible investment. . . . It also forestalls the inevitable decline of an industry that can no longer sustain itself.”

In contrast to an agenda that doubles down on dirty fuels, a wealth of green recovery programs aim to keep fossil fuels in the ground as part of a just transition to a sustainable and equitable economy. If these policies prevail, the industry will rapidly shrink to a fraction of its former stature. Thus, as at no other time since the industry’s inception, the actions taken now by the public and by policymakers will determine oil’s fate.

The Greenpeace activists are right. Whether the pandemic marks the end of oil “is up to you.”


THE OIL INDUSTRY is in such dire straits today because of the multiple crises it has faced since well before the pandemic. These upheavals are largely the result of the decades of organizing that have cast a dark shadow over the industry and exposed the harms associated with oil. This advocacy has helped to shut down and delay fossil fuel projects through direct-action protest, bring about current and expected policies to cut demand and production, make sustainable transportation and renewable energy more accessible and affordable, and reduce the political and economic benefits of supporting the oil industry. The result of the organizing and advocacy is death by a thousand cuts, leaving behind an industry producing too much of a commodity that is of shrinking value.

For more than a decade, volatility has been a hallmark of global oil markets. Within extreme highs and lows, however, there exists a consistent trend: a fall both in oil prices since 2008 and in the growth of demand for oil since at least 2011. After reaching a record high of $148 a barrel in 2008, which helped spark the Great Recession, the price of a barrel of oil in November 2019 was just $60. The growth in demand for oil worldwide in 2015 was more than two and a half times greater than in 2019; it plunged precipitously between 2017 and 2019. Despite the contraction in demand, companies kept pumping larger amounts of oil. By 2018, the global oil supply had outstripped demand, causing a glut. The situation was dire enough that the research consulting firm McKinsey & Company warned oil-producing nations in 2019 to begin “sufficiently diversifying their economies for a post-[oil] peak demand world.”

Corporate profits and market values, as well as investor returns, have been in a nosedive. Between 2012 and 2017, the oil majors’ profits collapsed. BP’s profits dropped by 68 percent, Chevron’s by 65 percent, ExxonMobil’s by 56 percent, and Shell’s by 50 percent. In December 2019, Chevron was forced to write off $10 billion in losses.

Global indexes measuring the value of the largest oil companies hit a 50-year low in 2018; of the world’s 100 biggest stocks, only six were oil producers. By 2019, the fossil fuel industry ranked dead last among major investment sectors in the United States. This was not surprising, given that the US oil and gas industry was in debt to the tune of $200 billion, largely because of struggling small fracking companies.

Even as investors were abandoning oil company stocks, a flood of cheap money and easy credit had been keeping the industry afloat. During the past decade, the US fracking industry lost $300 billion yet was able to continue producing, thanks to the financial backing of government subsidies, banks, hedge funds, and other investors. But well before the pandemic arrived, the private-capital flows were weakening. In addition, every major Democratic candidate for president pledged to end government subsidies for fossil fuels. Painting an ominous picture for the Wall Street Journal in 2019, Raoul LeBlanc of IHS Markit said that oil companies “don’t have the ability to borrow anymore.”

The loss of investor confidence was also a result of global activism. Nearly a decade of organizing around the demand that major institutions divest themselves of fossil fuel stocks had resulted in an estimated $11 trillion worth of commitments to sell off oil, gas, and coal holdings by late 2019. The divestment effort spawned a sister movement calling on banks and hedge funds to stop financing fossil fuel projects. “It’s been critical for Black people, Indigenous people, and people of color to stop the money pipeline,” says Reverend Lennox Yearwood Jr., president of the Hip Hop Caucus. These financiers, he argues, “would rather invest in our destruction, in our genocide, than in our lives and our future.” After spending trillions propping up the industry, most major North American and European banks decreased their funding for fossil fuels between 2017 and 2018.

As their fortunes diminished, oil and gas companies and many oil-producing countries tried to drill their way out of financial crisis. To pay back lenders and stockholders—or, in the case of state-owned companies, to generate the income for government budgets—producers kept pumping oil. But recall that in the midst of overproduction, both the price of oil and demand growth had been dropping, creating a vicious cycle in which producers had to sell more oil to make the same or even less money.

Oil production rose globally, but most aggressively in the United States. After production fell in the last year of the Obama administration, Trump’s “American energy dominance” policy spurred a historic ramp-up. US oil production reached its highest levels in history in 2018, and again in 2019. The boom made the United States the world’s largest oil producer and drove production across the nation, with states including Colorado, New Mexico, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, and Texas all reaching record highs.

A massive oversupply, a slew of indebted and overleveraged companies, wary investors, and a hostile public: All of the signs were there of a bubble ready to burst. In an October 2019 commentary for Bloomberg, Noah Smith, a leading energy analyst and finance professor, declared, “The age of oil is coming to a close.”

Click here to learn how COVID-19 relief programs designed to help families are directing billions of dollars toward propping up the oil industry.


The COVID-19 pandemic has brought into sharp relief the existing fragilities within the oil industry—and then made each of them worse. The pandemic has also revealed new ways that oil harms the public, as studies confirm that exposure to air pollution generated largely from fuel combustion from cars, refineries, and power plants increases COVID-19 death rates and that climate change (caused by the production and use of oil and other fossil fuels) is making outbreaks of infectious diseases more common and more dangerous.

As the pandemic took hold, governments around the world implemented stay-at-home orders. People delighted in the newly clean air as airplanes, trucks, trains, and cars went idle. Consumption of fossil fuels, especially gasoline, collapsed, and with it the price of oil.

The world’s leading petrostates took advantage of the moment to ensure their own survival. In March, US oil production increased even as Saudi Arabia and Russia entered into a price war that pushed the price of oil down even further. In April, President Trump met with US oil companies and then separately and individually with President Vladimir Putin of Russia and Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. Shortly thereafter, OPEC+ (the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries plus Russia, Bahrain, Mexico, and another half dozen producers) reached a global agreement to cut oil supply. But the OPEC+ production cuts wouldn’t take effect until May, and, in the short term, oil production in many countries surged. The geopolitical and corporate machinations provide a stark demonstration of how, even when faced with the worst possible scenarios for demand, supply, and price, the oil industry simply will not stop drilling unless it is forced to do so.

The oil glut quickly became a tsunami. Under the weight of all that oil, in April the price of oil crashed to negative $40 dollars a barrel—the lowest amount in history. Yet even at that bargain-basement price, there were few takers. Panic jolted the industry. The state of Oklahoma pronounced oil to be “economic waste.” Texas briefly considered mandating production quotas. From deep inside the heart of the US fracking boom, the Bismarck Tribune editorial board declared, “North Dakota must wean itself from oil dependence.”

OPEC, Russia, and other supplier nations did finally begin to hold back oil production. By June, global oil supply had fallen by some 12 million barrels a day (nearly 13 percent). But demand had plunged by more than twice that amount, or nearly 30 million barrels. In the United States, the frackers finally caved: Production fell by 3 million barrels a day in May, with virtually all the reductions coming from the shale—or fracking—regions of the country. In Colorado, oil production in April was just one-sixth of the volume in March. In North Dakota, production fell by 17 percent in that March-to-April period. Not only have some existing wells been closed in; fewer new ones are being drilled as well. There were just 10 rigs in North Dakota fracking new wells in June versus 61 the year before.

The fall in new drilling led to a collapse in jobs. Across the United States, more than 100,000 oil and gas and associated industry jobs were lost between March and May.

While the production slowdown by the OPEC+ nations is a temporary agreement, oil analysts Casey Merriman and Abhi Rajendran of Energy Intelligence expect a good deal of the US oil production cuts to be permanent. They predict that the country has reached peak oil production and will never return to the record 13 million barrels of oil per day reached in November 2019. COVID-19 has sped up a process already well underway, the analysts contend: Oil basins in the United States outside the Bakken Formation in North Dakota and the Texas–New Mexico Permian are turning into permanent “fringe” basins. In an astounding prediction, they argue that “geologic consolidation” will now take place, with US oil production shrinking—though not ending—everywhere other than the Permian, with production concentrating in the hands of the biggest players (see “A Long Sunset”).

Big Oil, Russia, and Saudi Arabia seem to have scored at least one win. The price of oil increased from negative $40 a barrel in April to around $40 a barrel by summer. Those prices mean more income, but not enough (in the absence of external financial backing) to prop up smaller fracking companies, whose break-even price per barrel is closer to $50. Many are already declaring bankruptcy. This is good news for the largest oil companies, including ExxonMobil, Chevron, and Shell. Each partners regularly with the members of OPEC and Russia, and they have long shared the goal of burying the smaller frackers, blamed for unfettered (and unstoppable) oversupply. The oil majors were late to join the shale revolution, and they have spent years trying to buy up and push out smaller rivals, especially in the Permian Basin. Now COVID-19 appears to have provided the opening they’ve sought.

But these newfound advantages for the majors represent a minor victory in a losing effort and are simply not enough to halt these companies’ own downward slides. In June, Moody’s predicted that global oil demand may have peaked in 2019. Shell announced that it will slash up to $22 billion from the value of its assets, and BP is selling assets worth $15 billion, including its petrochemical business, and eliminating 10,000 jobs worldwide. Chevron is cutting about 6,000 workers worldwide, and ExxonMobil, after taking a $3 billion write-down in May, announced that it could drop as many as 7,500 workers in the United States alone. They join some 55 oil companies that have announced plans to cut more than $37 billion from their pre-COVID 2020 spending budgets.

“The energy industry that emerges from the crisis will be significantly different from the one before,” argued the International Energy Agency in May, before making an aggressive pitch for a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity” for governments worldwide to reboot their economies with $3 trillion in investments that will move us away from fossil fuels and toward “a more resilient and cleaner-energy future.”


“HISTORICALLY, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew,” the novelist and essayist Arundhati Roy wrote in April. “This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next.” One month later, she joined with author Naomi Klein to launch a Global Green New Deal.

We live in a world that remains hardwired to oil. Now the oil industry is balanced on a precipice. Whether it survives the COVID-19 pandemic rests with public will and government policy: Will countries remain stuck within the oil era or move into a less volatile and more sustainable future? As goes the price of oil, so too goes the global economy—and we’re dangerously close to repeating the mistakes that led to the 2008 global financial crisis. Then, the price of oil skyrocketed to almost $150 a barrel, crushing consumers and consumer nations. Today, the collapse in oil prices has pulled producers and poor producer nations down with it. To save ourselves, we must unwind from oil.

Clearly, leaving Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and Mohammed bin Salman in charge of a global solution is a sure way to lock in a world order tied to oil. The extent to which governments are already stepping in to provide the capital that is otherwise draining from the industry is a testament to Big Oil’s remaining political prowess. Led by President Trump and Republicans in Congress, oil and gas companies in the United States had, by June, received billions of dollars in both direct federal COVID-19 benefits and indirect payouts through new Federal Reserve pandemic-relief spending, according to my own calculations for Sierra.

But there are alternatives that take us in another direction: actions and policies to rapidly transition away from fossil fuels and over to a just, equitable, and sustainable economy based on localized renewable energy sources and sustainable transportation systems.

First, we must acknowledge that falling demand and decreasing prices will not be enough to bring about a transition away from oil. Although Energy Intelligence analysts predict that the United States has reached its peak of oil production, their projections anticipate that some 10 million barrels of oil a day could be produced here through 2040. This amount is incompatible with the needs of social justice and public health, the Paris Agreement, and the goal of keeping average global temperatures from rising beyond 1.5 degrees Celsius.

To lock in the production cuts that have already been implemented and go beyond them requires keep-it-in-the-ground policies that are based on a “managed decline” in oil production. On the global level, turning away from oil will require wealthy countries to meet their obligations under the Paris Agreement and provide $500 billion by 2025 to support poorer countries’ transition to green, sustainable economies. These funds can be increased and should include targeted support for efforts in poor countries to keep their oil in the ground. The International Monetary Fund can help by expanding its recent decision to provide debt relief to struggling nations.

In the journal Climate Policy, Sivan Kartha, co-leader of the Stockholm Environment Institute’s Gender and Social Equality Programme, and Greg Muttitt, former research director of Oil Change International, recently laid out a path for a managed phaseout of fossil fuel extraction centered on equity and climate justice. The phaseout would begin in those communities—most typically communities of color—that disproportionately suffer the harms of extraction without the benefits. Also, wealthier, more diversified economies—led by the United States, Canada, and the UK—in which the social and economic costs of shuttering fossil fuel sectors are the least, would act most swiftly while simultaneously assisting poorer countries in their transition.

There are also many ideas for how the United States can disentangle itself from the power of the oil industry. The Freedom From Fossil Fuels platform—crafted by Governor Jay Inslee of Washington State and later adopted by Senator Elizabeth Warren—and its plans for securing environmental and climate justice (combined with the Frontlines Climate Justice Executive Action Platform from the progressive think tank Demos) may provide the most comprehensive road map for navigating a managed decline. The Freedom platform includes banning all new fossil fuel leasing on federal lands and offshore waters; ending government subsidies for fossil fuels; banning fracking; and tightening regulatory controls such that public health and safety and environmental protection are prioritized over fossil fuel production.

Going further, increasingly popular plans for local and national Green New Deals and global green stimulus packages will ensure the necessary government support for transitioning oil-dependent workers to well-paying, unionized green-energy jobs. For example, the government could provide financial support for or hire oil and gas workers to shut in and clean up abandoned wells, and oil and gas pipeline workers—whose skills are agnostic as to what flows through the pipes—could rebuild and maintain failing water and sewage lines. At the same time, more people are supporting the ongoing efforts of frontline communities, particularly Indigenous peoples, to defend their lands from fossil fuel operations.

The pandemic has made painfully clear that there are two ways the age of oil might end. There’s the status quo path, in which we are so overcome by the disasters brought about by our oil reliance—calamities in the forms of war, political upheaval, and the climate catastrophes of worsening drought, floods, hurricanes, fires, and disease—that we are unable to consume oil. And there is a more intentional, thoughtful path, one that embraces justice, equity, and sustainability. If we take that route, the “end of oil” will be a commitment to live in peace with one another and the planet.

The choice is up to us.

This article appeared in the September/October 2020 edition with the headline "The End of Oil?"

This article was funded by the Sierra Club Foundation.

Monday, December 7, 2020

Barbra Streisand "The stock market is another of Streisand’s passions. "

 

The stock market is another of Streisand’s passions. She wakes up most mornings at 6:30 a.m. to check the opening in New York. If she finds the action “interesting,” she trades. Then she goes back to bed.





By 

Photographs by 

Styled by 

THE DAY I arrive at Barbra Streisand’s property, she is on the phone with the Christie’s auction house in London. Outside, it’s a brilliantly sunny California afternoon in October, the skies clear of the ash cloud that recently blanketed Los Angeles.

Collecting is one of Streisand’s passions. On the walls of her sprawling Malibu home are early 19th-century American folk-art portraits, including several by the master of the genre, Ammi Phillips, a New England artist known for his spare, enigmatic, almost Modernist images. Streisand has been buying them since the late 1980s and is especially drawn to paintings of a mother with her child. She also owns two of George Washington, one done by Charles Peale Polk in 1795 while Washington was still alive, which Streisand has promised to Mount Vernon, the Virginia museum that was once the president’s home. (The other is by Gilbert Stuart.) We could be in Newport, R.I., or Colonial Williamsburg, except that Streisand’s husband of 22 years, the actor James Brolin, a fit-looking 80, is working beside the large pool just outside the living room windows, with the Pacific Ocean his backdrop.

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An assistant leads me to an annex Streisand calls the barn, where she and her husband did most of their entertaining before the pandemic struck. This “barn” is a vast structure with a spiral staircase in a silo, a napping room, a frozen yogurt machine and more evidence of Streisand’s wide-ranging tastes: There are meticulously recreated rooms in the American colonial, Art Nouveau, Scottish Mackintosh and Arts and Crafts styles. Streisand has rotated through these movements and others, going through “periodic purges,” as she puts it, when her tastes in interior decorating (and, she adds, hairstyles) have changed. By the end of her Art Deco phase, circa 1974 to 1994, “I never wanted to look at Art Deco again,” she wrote in her 2010 coffee-table book, “My Passion for Design.” She put most of the pieces up for auction, an ordeal that inspired Jonathan Tolins’s 2013 Off Broadway play, “Buyer & Cellar.”

I’ve been settled in a cavernous screening room, filled with overstuffed sofas and chairs, when suddenly, Streisand appears. She’s wearing a black top of her own design and a pair of $20 pants she bought online from a company called Simplicitie, and has just had her shoulder-length hair highlighted — which I know because she said the dye job distracted her from that afternoon’s 600-point reversal in the Dow Jones industrial average. The stock market is another of Streisand’s passions. She wakes up most mornings at 6:30 a.m. to check the opening in New York. If she finds the action “interesting,” she trades. Then she goes back to bed.

Coming face-to-face with Streisand, who is 78, is a shock. Nearly her entire adult life has been chronicled in images — onscreen; in photographs — and she’s the subject of scores of unauthorized biographies, none of which she’s read. She’s won Oscars, a Tony, Emmys, even the Presidential Medal of Freedom. For six years, she’s been working on an autobiography that she says is nearing completion. She’s been a presence in my life since I was a teenager and saw her in 1968’s “Funny Girl,” a heartbreaking film about the devastated Broadway diva Fanny Brice that prompted my sister to lock herself in her room for a half-hour sob.

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Streisand is still a little breathless as she settles into a chair at a safe distance. I ask if she won the auction. “Yes!” she exclaims. “It was nerve-racking.” She extends her phone to show me an image of “Peasant Woman With Child on her Lap,” an 1885 Vincent van Gogh painting rendered in somber grays, blues and browns. (I later see on the Christie’s website that the work sold for $4.47 million, well above its high estimate of $3.8 million. She’s loaning it to a museum.)

Streisand has always collected: In 1964, when she was starring in “Funny Girl” on Broadway, she saved enough from her $2,500-a-week salary to buy a small Matisse, her first major purchase. Art satisfies her urge both to collect and invest — a Klimt she bought in 1969 for $17,000 sold years later for $650,000. And, she says, “I love things that are beautiful. I think I have a good eye — in some ways my entire life has been a quest for beauty.”

But her love of things also fills a void. “Sometimes I think it’s all connected to the loss of a parent,” Streisand writes in her design book. Her father, Emanuel, a high school English teacher, died in 1943 at age 35, when Streisand was 15 months old. “Because you’d do anything to get that mother or father back. But you can’t. … Yet with objects, there’s a possibility.”

STREISAND SEEMS HAPPIER talking about art than music, but any story about her life must begin with her singing voice: “one of the natural wonders of the age, an instrument of infinite diversity and timbral resource,” as Glenn Gould, the celebrated classical pianist, once put it. Only the great 20th-century soprano Elisabeth Schwarzkopf brought him comparable listening pleasure.

In the weeks before we meet, I revisited many of Streisand’s recordings, going back to her 1965 album “My Name Is Barbra.” Even now, her voice is instantly recognizable; she is able to fuse musicality and drama to a degree few singers — with the exception of Maria Callas — can. Equally impressive is her sense of restraint; some of her most memorable songs begin quietly, even haltingly. On the title track that opens “My Name Is Barbra,” she starts off unaccompanied, relying solely on her voice, as if to say, “Listen closely, you’ve never heard anything like this.” She often employs a penetrating, somewhat nasal sound, a remnant of her childhood in Brooklyn, but as she adds volume, her tone broadens and her voice soars into its upper range. Finally, just when you think she has nowhere else to go, she unleashes her full vibrato, holding the climactic note seemingly forever — or, to be precise, a remarkable 18 seconds, as with the ending of “A Piece of Sky,” one of the hits from her 1983 film, “Yentl.”

Streisand famously has had no serious musical education, yet I tell her that I find it hard to believe that her formidable vocal technique — her distinct phrasing, enormous range, expressive vibrato and skill at sustaining dynamics from pianissimos to double fortes — hasn’t been the result of countless hours of practice and training. “What’s a double forte?” she asks.

She says her ability to hold a note can be largely attributed to one quality: willpower. “Streisand was a prodigy,” says Michael Kosarin, the music director, arranger and conductor. “About the only thing I can compare it to is Luciano Pavarotti,” the operatic tenor, who, like Streisand, didn’t read music. “Singers can be overtrained. The technique can get in the way of the acting.” He pointed to her rendition of the song “My Man” from “Funny Girl”— “In the first half she’s barely singing. Some notes are a little off-pitch. She’s overcome by emotion. It’s perfect for telling the story, not perfect in and of itself.”

ImageStreisand wears a <strong>Valentino</strong> coat, $5,200, similar styles at (212) 355-5811, and <strong>Hanro</strong> sweater, $174, <a href="https://shop.hanrousa.com/">hanrousa.com</a>.
Credit...Photograph by Collier Schorr. Styled by Mel Ottenberg

Streisand says her vocal stylings came to her naturally. She sings like she speaks, and when she does, she often inhabits a character. She’s playing a part, and acting is what she always wanted to do. Her legendary voice, it seems, has mainly been a means to other ends: She’ll only do a concert these days, she says, so she can “buy a painting or give the money away to charity.” But singing has paid for her cliffside Malibu compound and the objects within. It has financed the causes and political candidates she believes in. It has fueled her investing. “She sees herself as much bigger than a singer or actor,” says the composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim, 90, who has known Streisand since she was 19; they played card games together during rehearsals for Streisand’s run in her Broadway debut, 1962’s “I Can Get It for You Wholesale,” directed by Sondheim’s friend Arthur Laurents. “She’s a political figure who affects things that go well beyond entertainment.”

Perhaps Streisand is so nonchalant about her vocal talent because it came to her so easily. By the age of 5, she says, she was known in her Williamsburg, Brooklyn, neighborhood as the “girl with no father and a good voice.” (Her father obviously still looms large: She proudly mentions that he taught the classics to prison inmates in Elmira, N.Y.) Her mother, Diana, had a natural operatic voice but never sang professionally: She supported Barbra and Barbra’s older brother, Sheldon, by working as a school secretary and a bookkeeper. She warned her daughter not to pursue a career in show business, because, as Streisand recalls, “I didn’t look like the movie stars I read about in magazines.” She now believes her mother was jealous of her talent. “I didn’t really like my life as a child,” she says. “I thought, ‘This can’t be it.’” Her mother remarried and, at 16, Streisand graduated high school early and moved to Manhattan. (Streisand has a half sister, Roslyn Kind, but rarely mentions her or Sheldon, a Long Island real estate investor.)

At 18, Streisand heard about a talent contest at the Lion, a club in Greenwich Village. She had recently been fired from her job as a clerk and phone operator for a printing company and was being repeatedly rejected for acting gigs. The prize was $50 and a free dinner of London broil, and she needed both. Along with auditioning and interviewing, she also was reinventing herself: She said she was from Smyrna, Turkey, using the ancient Greek name for the city (“I pronounced it with an accent and a rolled ‘R’ — ‘Smeerrna’!”), a vaguely plausible claim given her features. “I didn’t want to be labeled as some girl from Brooklyn,” she says. After she sang Harold Arlen and Truman Capote’s 1954 song “A Sleepin’ Bee,” there was a stunned silence — and then, thunderous applause. She followed with the 1952 jazz hit “Lullaby of Birdland,” walking through the small, packed room with her microphone. She won.

She didn’t realize until she arrived that the Lion was a gay bar, but it seems fitting that she got her start there. As William J. Mann, author of the 2012 book “Hello Gorgeous: Becoming Barbra Streisand” has written, many of her early friends and influences turned out to be gay men, and “gay audiences instinctively recognized something very familiar about her, a shared sensibility.” Streisand is routinely ranked as a gay icon alongside Judy GarlandBette Midler and Lady Gaga, who, to varying degrees, embody a combination of glamour and suffering that can only be redeemed by love, requited or (more often) not. “The Man That Got Away,” the 1954 torch song originated by Garland that later became a hit for Streisand, has been a queer anthem for decades.

Theater mavens and celebrities began making their way to the Lion for Streisand’s weekly performances, and after a month or so, she moved on to the more upscale Bon Soir nearby. One memorable night there, she met her future lifelong manager, Martin Erlichman; on another, Alan and Marilyn Bergman, the lyricists who would later write many of her most enduring songs, including 1973’s “The Way We Were” (written with Marvin Hamlisch) and, a decade later, the “Yentl” soundtrack (with Michel Legrand). In 1962, Laurents hired her for “I Can Get It for You Wholesale.” In that play, the 19-year-old Streisand stopped the show with her solo “Miss Marmelstein,” a comic vocal masterpiece in which she complains that more attractive girls get called by their first names. Overnight, she became a Broadway star. (In 1963, she married her “Wholesale” co-star, Elliott Gould, whom she divorced eight years later; they have a son, Jason.) Her next theatrical break came in 1964, with “Funny Girl.” Though the musical — about an early 20th-century Ziegfeld star who won and then lost her man — seems written for Streisand, the producers only settled on her after Anne Bancroft and Carol Burnett turned down the role.

Streisand’s mother was right that she wasn’t conventionally pretty, at least not in the aristocratic, Grace Kelly mold. She repeatedly rebuffed advice to have her nose cosmetically altered, and instead made it one of her signature features; she learned to deploy her Brooklyn accent for comic effect. Audiences couldn’t take their eyes off her. While doing seven Broadway performances a week, Streisand also taped her “My Name Is Barbra” TV special for CBS, a vocal tour de force that extended her fame nationwide. At 21, she landed on the cover of Time magazine: “She touches the heart with her awkwardness, her lunging humor and a bravery that is all the more winning because she seems so vulnerable,” the magazine’s reporter wrote.

Streisand’s performances in “Funny Girl,” and her televised rendition of its hit song “People,” were so indelible that the show has proved largely impervious to revival. “I’d never touch it,” says Sierra Boggess, who has starred in “The Phantom of the Opera” and “School of Rock” on Broadway. Streisand “is so ruthlessly herself and so unique. I wouldn’t know how to make it my own.” It’s hard to imagine anyone today replicating Streisand’s astonishing rise to stardom — discovered in an obscure gay nightclub and anointed by an elite group of powerful cultural gatekeepers. Yet, even as social media has spawned a new generation of pop stars, Streisand’s appeal endures, unaffected by shifting tastes. Her relevancy comes not from following musical trends but from refusing to do so.

TODAY, STREISAND CALLS herself an actor first. Though she never had music lessons, she studied with the renowned acting teacher Allan Miller while she was still a teenager and absorbed the Method approach taught at New York’s Actors Studio (she was deemed too young to enroll but was later made an honorary life member). One of her unfulfilled dreams is to have performed in the classics, particularly in Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” and “Antony and Cleopatra.”

Acting is also what drew her to Sondheim’s songs. “He gives you so much to work with,” she says. “I love singing his songs because they’re written for characters in a play where there’s a beginning, a middle and an end — and then I try to relate that to parts of myself.” Both Streisand and Sondheim recall that while working on his song “Send in the Clowns” from the 1973 musical “A Little Night Music” for her 1985 album of Broadway show tunes, she struggled with what she considered an “emotional gap” between the last stanzas. The climactic line — “Quick, send in the clowns. / Don’t bother, they’re here.” — comes before the last stanza in the Broadway original, but Streisand called Sondheim and asked if she could move that line to the end. It’s hard to imagine any other performer who’d dare edit Sondheim’s work, but two hours later he called her back to say that “she was right and astute,” Sondheim recalls. In the stage version of the song, the last stanzas are separated by dialogue that makes explicit the predicament the former lovers face: that the aging actress Desiree is still in love with the man she once rejected, who is now married to a younger woman. So Sondheim wrote a musical bridge and additional lyrics for Streisand that became the version she sang on the album.

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But Sondheim and Streisand quarreled some years ago over a new movie version of the musical “Gypsy,” in which Streisand would play Mama Rose, the role immortalized on Broadway by Ethel Merman in 1959. (Rosalind Russell starred in the 1962 movie version.) Although the musical is loosely based on the story of Gypsy Rose Lee, the American burlesque star, the show is dominated by Gypsy’s mother, a frustrated performer who pours her ambitions into her daughter — an archetypal stage mom. Streisand’s fans have long clamored to see her in the part, which seems tailored to her voice.

As the lyricist for the Broadway original, Sondheim controls the rights along with the estates of Laurents, who wrote the book, and Jule Styne, the composer. They were amenable to the project, but Streisand wanted to direct and star in the film, which Sondheim and Laurents resisted. Then she started tinkering with the book. (Streisand says she was only restoring the earlier movie version to the original book.) And now, a Barbra Streisand “Gypsy” — a possibility as recently as four years ago — is no longer on the table.

Still, attempting to rewrite one of the most celebrated books in Broadway history is entirely in character for Streisand, who tells me several times that artistic control has been far more important to her than money or critical acclaim. This has been true from the outset: She insisted upon — and won — contractual control over her first record album, even down to the cover design, which features a photograph of her performing at the Bon Soir.

Hollywood was another, altogether tougher industry, where women had long been at the mercy of powerful male studio heads and directors, and where even Streisand, already a major star, struggled to make herself heard. “Don’t let them do to you what they did to me,” Garland famously advised Streisand in the 1960s. Women were typically paid less than their male co-stars and strictly relegated to acting. “Actresses did not direct,” Streisand recalls. But for “Funny Girl,” her first film, she watched the dailies with its Oscar-winning director, William Wyler, offering her opinions along the way and learning the craft from one of its masters.

Later, for “The Way We Were,” Streisand’s co-star, Robert Redford, got $750,000 plus a share of the profits, while Streisand also got profit-sharing but was paid $400,000 less. She wanted to star in and direct a sequel, but requested a $400,000 director’s fee to make up the pay difference. Her producer, Ray Stark, flatly refused. No sequel was made. In those years, male stars negotiated for a percentage of a film’s gross revenue, rather than the often nonexistent net profit. Streisand joined their ranks with 1976’s “A Star Is Born,” and helped begin the still-ongoing fight for gender pay equity in Hollywood. “It wasn’t easy,” recalls Michael Ovitz, the former Hollywood agent who represented her during the ’80s and ’90s. “The business didn’t value women as much as men. Barbra could be tough as nails. She stood up for what she believed in, with enormous integrity.”

It wasn’t until 1983, with “Yentl,” that she finally got the chance to direct. She’d bought the rights to the Isaac Bashevis Singer short story “Yentl the Yeshiva Boy” in 1970. Her original vision was for a nonmusical, black-and-white art film, but “the only way I could get ‘Yentl’ made was to sing in it,” she says. The movie eventually emerged as a lavish full-color musical. Streisand starred as a young woman in a Jewish shtetl who poses as a man to pursue an education. She also directed, co-wrote the screenplay and produced it.

“Yentl” grossed over $40 million and won Streisand a Golden Globe for best director, but not even a nomination from the male-dominated Directors Guild of America. “Maybe in the next few years, with more women directing, they’ll get used to us,” Streisand said at that year’s Globes ceremony. Since then, only one woman has won the Oscar for best director — Kathryn Bigelow in 2010 (and only five women have been nominated). “It’s a disgrace more women haven’t,” Streisand says. She hasn’t directed a film since 1996’s “The Mirror Has Two Faces,” a romantic comedy in which Streisand — finally — wins and keeps her handsome leading man, played by Jeff Bridges. It proved to be a case of life imitating art: The year the movie was released, Streisand met Brolin.

STREISAND’S INSISTENCE on control and obsession with detail have been criticized for much of her life: She is “difficult,” “demanding,” a “perfectionist,” all of which she readily acknowledges. It’s hard to imagine a comparable male star or director being subjected to the same criticism. In any event, it’s impossible to fault the results. “So she’s a perfectionist,” says Kosarin. “Most geniuses are perfectionists. Look at Steve Jobs.”

While Streisand insists that money is secondary to her, financial security is another form of control. She’s brought the same determination and self-education to stocks as to art, antiques and real estate. Jim Cramer, who discussed the market with her as a hedge fund manager before he became a popular CNBC host, told me she knew more about initial public offerings than most traders. “And she hated to lose,” he adds.

Streisand says she’s earned millions trading stocks — several million between 1998 and 2000 alone. (“I’d be up at 6:30, light a fire, have a hot chocolate and trade until 1 p.m.”) She admits she’s not the most disciplined investor: She panicked during the crash in 1987 (“I lost a fortune”), and again in March when the market plunged because of pandemic fears. But her instincts have been sound: She bought Apple, Amazon, Netflix and Google shares when her then-financial adviser said they were too speculative. Her adviser steered her into Disney stock in 2011, and she likes to give shares as presents to children in her life. She can get the Apple chief executive, Tim Cook, on the phone and recently asked him to correct Siri’s pronunciation of her name from Strei-zand to Strei-sand. He agreed. “People mispronounce my name no matter how famous I am,” she laments.

Apple is now the biggest holding in her charity, the Streisand Foundation, which funds various progressive causes — racial equality, women’s rights, civil rights, L.G.B.T.Q. rights and voting rights — with a particular focus on climate change and the environment. She helped endow the Barbra Streisand Women’s Heart Center at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles, and co-founded the Women’s Heart Alliance to support research on heart disease in women.


She’s also raised money for political candidates, including every Democratic presidential nominee since John F. Kennedy (she sang for Kennedy at the 1963 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when she was barely in her 20s). And while she has never been an activist in the mold of, say, Jane Fonda, her influence may be more far-reaching. She befriended Nancy Pelosi, the current speaker of the House, in 1986, when Streisand hosted a Congressional fund-raiser at her own Malibu home. “It took real courage back then to get involved because the entertainment industry believed there’d be a backlash,” Pelosi says. “She tended to every detail,” the politician recalls, even serving the black-and-white cookies popular in Baltimore, Pelosi’s hometown. Streisand in fund-raising mode “is dazzling to behold,” Pelosi tells me. “It’s not just because she’s a celebrity. She knows the issues. She’s studied. She can explain why she supports what she does. That’s what’s persuasive.”

Streisand’s early forays into politics faced criticism at the time: “When I first directed a movie,” Streisand told the Los Angeles Times in 1993, “it was as if I was being told how dare I attempt to infiltrate a man’s domain. Now it’s: How dare I be interested in politics.” And yet, because of her, Hollywood activism is now commonplace. “She doesn’t have to do this,” Pelosi adds. “She does it out of patriotism. She loves our country.”

The Trump presidency has summoned a new level of outrage in Streisand. “What do I hate most about Trump? He lies every day,” she says. “He has the compulsion to lie, even when the facts say something different. The worst lie was about the pandemic. Why not face facts? Why not tell the truth? People are stronger than you think — they can handle the truth. It would have saved thousands of lives.” She wrote the song “Don’t Lie to Me” for her most recent album, 2018’s “Walls,” to “express my despair and anger”: “Why can’t you just tell me the truth? / Hard to believe the things you say, / Why can’t you feel the tears I cried today, cried today, cried today? / How do you win if we all lose?” (Of a Joe Biden presidency, she says, “I’m exhilarated … [He] will bring back dignity, honesty, intelligence and compassion to the Oval Office. I look forward to that.”)

Streisand gave an extended analysis of her politics in an address titled “The Artist as Citizen” in 1995 at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government. “I am also very proud to be a liberal,” she told the packed auditorium. “Why is that so terrible these days? The liberals were liberators — they fought slavery, fought for women to have the right to vote, fought against Hitler, Stalin, fought to end segregation, fought to end apartheid. Liberals put an end to child labor and they gave us the five-day workweek! What’s to be ashamed of?”

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“I spent three months working on that speech,” she says, yet she hadn’t realized that she would be speaking in front of so many cameras and news outlets. “My heart was in my throat.” Her near-paralysis there echoed an incident from 1967 when, overcome by stage fright, she forgot her lyrics during a concert in Central Park in front of an estimated 135,000 people. Other than for political or charitable events, she didn’t sing live at a major concert for 27 years. “What if I forgot the lyrics again?” she asks. Nearly everyone suffers to some degree from performance anxiety, but psychologists say it can become acute when a fear of being judged merges with deep-seated insecurity. Even after all these years, Streisand recalls that the Times columnist Maureen Dowd was in the audience at her Harvard speech, and the prospect of a bad review terrified her.

“I still think I’m like most creative people are — confident at times and insecure at times,” she says. “I don’t know if that ever goes away.” Today, after years of therapy when she was younger, she’s “much more grounded.” She still doesn’t know the source of her early brashness. “I think I had more of that when I was young,” she says. Streisand has repeatedly portrayed strong, successful women onscreen, but “she isn’t afraid to make herself vulnerable,” says Kosarin. “That makes her so approachable. There’s an alchemy there that makes her a star.”

LIKE MANY ASPECTS of her personality, she traces that undertow of vulnerability to not having known her father, a subject she returns to several times in our conversations this fall. His absence haunts her still. Last May, Streisand, like the rest of the world, watched George Floyd being killed by the Minneapolis police. She was struck by the horror of Floyd’s death, but she was struck as well by his 6-year-old daughter, Gianna, now left fatherless. To lose a father — “I know how that feels,” Streisand says. So, in June, Streisand sent Gianna some shares of Disney stock, along with a letter, written from the perspective of a young girl whose father has died.

“I think our dads watch over us forever,” Streisand wrote. “When you get older and have a decision to make … just close your eyes and ask him for help. And if you listen very carefully, he will lead you to the right choice. I promise!

Love,

Barbra.”

Production: Con