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Plus how it’s different from carbon capture — and, while we’re at it, carbon offsets.

At the heart of the climate crisis lies a harsh physical reality: Once carbon dioxide enters the atmosphere, it can stay there for hundreds or even thousands of years. Although some carbon does cycle in and out of the air via plants, soils, and the ocean, we are emitting far more than these systems can handle, meaning that most of it is just piling up. Burning fossil fuels is like continuously stuffing feathers into a duvet blanketing the Earth.
But there may be ways to begin plucking them out. That’s the promise of carbon removal, a category of technologies and interventions that either pull carbon dioxide from the air and store it securely or enhance the systems that naturally absorb carbon today.
Carbon removal is not, inherently, a license to continue emitting — it is far cheaper and easier to reduce the flow of emissions into the atmosphere than it is to remove them after the fact. Climate action has been so slow, however, that removing carbon has become a pressing consideration.
There are many technical, political, and economic challenges to deploying carbon removal at a meaningful scale. This guide will introduce you to some of those challenges, along with the basics of what carbon removal is, the rationale for trying to do it, and the risks and trade-offs we’ll encounter along the way. Let’s dive in.
Variously called carbon removal, carbon dioxide removal, CDR, and negative emissions technologies, all of these terms refer to efforts to suck carbon from the atmosphere and store it in places where it will not warm the planet, such as oceans, soils, plants, and underground. The science behind carbon removal spans atmospheric studies, oceanography, biology, geology, chemistry, and engineering. The carbon removal “industry” overlaps with oil and gas drilling, farming, forestry, mining, and construction — sometimes several of these sectors at once.
Carbon removal encompasses an astonishingly wide range of activities, but the two best known examples are probably the simple practice of planting a tree and the complex engineering project of building a “direct air capture system.” The latter are typically big machines that use industrial-sized fans to blow air through a material that filters carbon dioxide, and then apply heat to extract the carbon from the filter.
But there are many other methods that fall somewhere in between. “Enhanced rock weathering” involves taking minerals that are known to slowly pull carbon from the air as they break down over millennia and trying to speed up those reactions by grinding them into a fine dust and spreading it on agricultural fields. In “ocean alkalinity enhancement,” minerals are deposited directly into the ocean, catalyzing chemical reactions that may enable surface waters to soak up more carbon from the atmosphere. Companies are also experimenting with ways to take carbon-rich organic waste, like sewage, corn stalks, and forest debris, and bury it permanently underground or transform it into more stable materials like biochar.

If you read the words “carbon capture” literally, then yes, carbon removal involves capturing carbon. It’s common to see news articles use the terms interchangeably. But “carbon capture” is also the name for a technology that addresses a very different problem, with different challenges and implications. For that reason, it’s useful to distinguish carbon removal as its own category.
By definition, carbon removal deals with carbon that was previously emitted into the atmosphere — the feathers piling up in the duvet. Carbon capture, by contrast, has historically referred to systems that collect carbon from the flue of an industrial site, like a power plant, before it can enter the atmosphere.
Some carbon removal methods, such as the aforementioned direct air capture machines, share equipment with carbon capture. Both might use materials called sorbents to separate carbon from flue gas or from the air, and both rely on pipelines and drilling to transport the carbon to underground storage wells. But carbon capture cleans up and extends the relevance of present-day industrial processes and fuels. Carbon removal can be deployed concurrent with or independent of today’s energy systems and addresses the legacy carbon still hanging around.
There are different opinions on this. Some consider “geoengineering” to mean any large-scale intervention to counteract climate change. Others reserve the term for interventions that deal only with the effects of climate change, rather than the root cause. For example, solar radiation management, an idea to release tiny particles into the atmosphere that reflect sunlight back into space, would cool the Earth but not change the concentration of carbon in the atmosphere. If we started to do it at scale and then stopped, global warming would rear right back, unless and until the carbon blanketing the atmosphere was removed.
Any global cooling achieved by carbon removal, by contrast, would likely be more durable. To be clear, scientists don’t propose trying to use carbon removal to bring global average temperatures back down to levels seen during the pre-industrial period. It would already take an almost unimaginably large-scale effort to cool the planet just a half a degree or so with carbon removal — more on that in a bit.
While scientists have been talking about carbon removal for decades, a sense of urgency to develop practicable solutions emerged in the years following the 2015 Paris Climate Agreement. The signatories to that United Nations agreement, which included almost every nation in the world, committed to limit warming to “well below 2 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels” and strive for no more than 1.5 degrees of warming.
When scientists with the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change reviewed more than a thousand modeled scenarios mapping out how the world could achieve these goals, they found that it would be extraordinarily difficult without some degree of carbon removal. We had emitted so much by that point and made so little progress to change our energy systems that success required either cutting emissions at an unfathomably fast clip, cutting emissions more gradually and rapidly scaling up carbon removal to counteract the residuals, or “overshooting” the temperature targets altogether and using carbon removal to back into them.
If limiting warming to 1.5 degrees was a stretch back then, today it’s become even more implausible. “Recent warming trends and the lack of adequate mitigation measures make it clear that the 1.5°C goal will not be met,” reads a January 2025 report from the independent climate science research group Berkeley Earth. The authors expect the threshold to be crossed in the next five to 10 years. Another independent research group, Climate Action Tracker, estimates that current policies put the world on track to warm 2.7 degrees by the end of the century.
To many, carbon removal may seem Sisyphean. As long as we’re still flooding the atmosphere with carbon, trying to take it out bit by bit sounds futile.
But our relatively slow progress cleaning up our energy systems only strengthens the case to develop carbon removal. Just think of all the carbon that’s continuing to accumulate! If we reach a point in the future where energy is cleaner and emissions are significantly lower, carbon removal offers a chance to siphon out some of it and start to reverse the dangerous effects of climate change. If we don’t start building that capacity today, future generations will not have that option.
Scientists also make the case that carbon removal will be essential to halting climate change, never mind reversing it. That’s because there are some human activities that are so difficult or expensive to decarbonize — think commercial aviation, shipping, agriculture — that it may be easier, more economical, or even more environmentally friendly to remove the greenhouse gases they emit after the fact. Stopping the planet from warming does not necessarily require eliminating all emissions. The more likely path is to achieve “net zero,” a point where any remaining emissions are counterbalanced by an equal amount of carbon removal, including from human activities as well as natural carbon sinks.
It would certainly be easier, less expensive, and less resource-intensive to cut emissions today than it will be to remove them in the future. Some scientists have even argued we may be better off assuming carbon removal will not work at scale, as that might motivate more rapid emissions reductions. But the IPCC concluded pretty definitively in 2022 that carbon removal will be required if we want to stabilize global temperatures below 2 degrees this century.
The Paris Agreement temperature targets are not thresholds after which the world falls apart. But every tenth of a degree of warming will strain the Earth’s systems and test human survival more than the last. Abandoning carbon removal means accepting whatever dangerous and devastating effects we fail to avoid.
The latest edition of the “State of CDR” report, put together by a group of leading carbon removal researchers, found that all of the Paris Agreement-consistent scenarios modeled in the scientific literature require removing between 4 billion and 6 billion metric tons of carbon per year by 2035, and between 6 billion and 10 billion metric tons by 2050. For context, they estimate that the world currently removes about 2 billion metric tons of carbon per year over and above what the Earth would naturally absorb without human interference, 99% of which comes from planting trees and managing forests.
These estimates, however, are steeped in uncertainty, as the models make assumptions about the cost and speed of decarbonization and society’s willingness to make behavioral changes such as eating less meat and flying less. We could work toward other futures with less reliance on carbon removal. We could also passively drift toward one that calls for far more.
In short, the amount of carbon removal that may be desirable in the future depends largely on how quickly we reduce emissions and how successful we are in solving the hardest-to-decarbonize parts of the economy. It also depends on what kinds of trade-offs society is willing to make. Large-scale carbon removal would likely be resource-intensive, requiring a lot of land, energy, or both, and could impinge on other sustainability goals.
Afforestation and reforestation are responsible for most carbon removal that happens today, and planting more trees is essential to tackling climate change. But it would be a mistake to bank our carbon removal strategy on that approach alone. For one, depending on how much carbon removal is needed, there may not be enough land that can or should be forested without encroaching on food production or other uses. Large-scale tree planting efforts also often produce monoculture plantations, which are an inexpensive way to maximize carbon sequestration but can harm biodiversity.
The other argument for developing alternative solutions has to do with time. As I explained earlier, carbon dioxide emissions can stay in the atmosphere for millennia. Most tree species do not live longer than 1,000 years, and some are known to survive only for a few decades. The carbon stored in trees is vulnerable to fires, pests, disease, drought, and the simple fact of mortality. Climate change is already increasing these risks.
If we use carbon removal to neutralize residual fossil fuel emissions — which, again, could help us halt warming faster than we otherwise would be able to — the carbon will need to stay out of the atmosphere for as long as the emissions stay in. When we rely on trees to offset CO2 emissions, the climate scientist Zeke Hausfather wrote in a 2022 New York Times op-ed, we “risk merely hitting the climate ‘snooze’ button, kicking the can to future generations who will have to deal with those emissions.”
Every form of carbon removal has trade-offs. Direct air capture uses lots of energy; enhanced rock weathering relies on dirty mining processes and its effectiveness is difficult to measure. It’s still too early to know the extent to which these can be minimized, or to say what the ideal mix of solutions looks like.
There are hundreds of companies and research labs around the world working on various methods to remove carbon from the atmosphere, and the number of real-world projects is growing every year. But the field’s progress is limited by funding. There’s no natural market for carbon removal — it’s essentially a public service. Most of the money going into the field has come from tech companies like Microsoft and Stripe, which have voluntarily paid for carbon removals that haven’t happened yet to help startups access capital to deploy demonstration projects.
Experts across the industry say that in order for carbon removal to scale, governments will need to play a much bigger role. For one, they’ll likely need to pony up for research and development. The U.S. government has been spending about $1 billion per year to support carbon removal research, but according to one estimate, we’ll need to scale that to $100 billion per year by 2050 in order to make the technology set a viable solution. Many argue that compliance markets, in which governments require companies to lower their emissions and permit the purchase of carbon removal to meet targets, will be key to creating sustained demand. (These are not to be confused with carbon offsets, which have also been part of these markets, but have been more focused on projects that avoid emissions.) That’s already starting to happen abroad — this summer, the U.K. decided to incorporate removals into its emissions cap and trade program in 2029, and the E.U. proposed doing the same.
The few programs we do have in the U.S., on the other hand, are currently at risk. Congress appropriated $3.5 billion to the Department of Energy in 2021 to develop several direct air capture “hubs,” but Secretary of Energy Chris Wright may try to cancel the program. The agency also had a pilot program in which it planned to pre-pay for carbon removal, similar to what the tech companies have done, but it’s unclear whether that will move forward. But there’s more action in other countries.
Another central preoccupation in the field today is the development of robust standards that ensure we can accurately measure and report how much carbon is removed by each method. While this is relatively straightforward for a direct air capture system, which is a closed system, it’s much harder for enhanced rock weathering, for example, where there are a lot of outside variables that could affect the fate of the carbon.
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According to a new analysis shared exclusively with Heatmap, coal’s equipment-related outage rate is about twice as high as wind’s.
The Trump administration wants “beautiful clean coal” to return to its place of pride on the electric grid because, it says, wind and solar are just too unreliable. “If we want to keep the lights on and prevent blackouts from happening, then we need to keep our coal plants running. Affordable, reliable and secure energy sources are common sense,” Chris Wright said on X in July, in what has become a steady drumbeat from the administration that has sought to subsidize coal and put a regulatory straitjacket around solar and (especially) wind.
This has meant real money spent in support of existing coal plants. The administration’s emergency order to keep Michigan’s J.H. Campbell coal plant open (“to secure grid reliability”), for example, has cost ratepayers served by Michigan utility Consumers Energy some $80 million all on its own.
But … how reliable is coal, actually? According to an analysis by the Environmental Defense Fund of data from the North American Electric Reliability Corporation, a nonprofit that oversees reliability standards for the grid, coal has the highest “equipment-related outage rate” — essentially, the percentage of time a generator isn’t working because of some kind of mechanical or other issue related to its physical structure — among coal, hydropower, natural gas, nuclear, and wind. Coal’s outage rate was over 12%. Wind’s was about 6.6%.
“When EDF’s team isolated just equipment-related outages, wind energy proved far more reliable than coal, which had the highest outage rate of any source NERC tracks,” EDF told me in an emailed statement.
Coal’s reliability has, in fact, been decreasing, Oliver Chapman, a research analyst at EDF, told me.
NERC has attributed this falling reliability to the changing role of coal in the energy system. Reliability “negatively correlates most strongly to capacity factor,” or how often the plant is running compared to its peak capacity. The data also “aligns with industry statements indicating that reduced investment in maintenance and abnormal cycling that are being adopted primarily in response to rapid changes in the resource mix are negatively impacting baseload coal unit performance.” In other words, coal is struggling to keep up with its changing role in the energy system. That’s due not just to the growth of solar and wind energy, which are inherently (but predictably) variable, but also to natural gas’s increasing prominence on the grid.
“When coal plants are having to be a bit more varied in their generation, we're seeing that wear and tear of those plants is increasing,” Chapman said. “The assumption is that that's only going to go up in future years.”
The issue for any plan to revitalize the coal industry, Chapman told me, is that the forces driving coal into this secondary role — namely the economics of running aging plants compared to natural gas and renewables — do not seem likely to reverse themselves any time soon.
Coal has been “sort of continuously pushed a bit more to the sidelines by renewables and natural gas being cheaper sources for utilities to generate their power. This increased marginalization is going to continue to lead to greater wear and tear on these plants,” Chapman said.
But with electricity demand increasing across the country, coal is being forced into a role that it might not be able to easily — or affordably — play, all while leading to more emissions of sulfur dioxide, nitrogen oxide, particulate matter, mercury, and, of course, carbon dioxide.
The coal system has been beset by a number of high-profile outages recently, including at the largest new coal plant in the country, Sandy Creek in Texas, which could be offline until early 2027, according to the Texas energy market ERCOT and the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis.
In at least one case, coal’s reliability issues were cited as a reason to keep another coal generating unit open past its planned retirement date.
Last month, Colorado Representative Will Hurd wrote a letter to the Department of Energy asking for emergency action to keep Unit 2 of the Comanche coal plant in Pueblo, Colorado open past its scheduled retirement at the end of his year. Hurd cited “mechanical and regulatory constraints” for the larger Unit 3 as a justification for keeping Unit 2 open, to fill in the generation gap left by the larger unit. In a filing by Xcel and several Colorado state energy officials also requesting delaying the retirement of Unit 2, they disclosed that the larger Unit 3 “experienced an unplanned outage and is offline through at least June 2026.”
Reliability issues aside, high electricity demand may turn into short-term profits at all levels of the coal industry, from the miners to the power plants.
At the same time the Trump administration is pushing coal plants to stay open past their scheduled retirement, the Energy Information Administration is forecasting that natural gas prices will continue to rise, which could lead to increased use of coal for electricity generation. The EIA forecasts that the 2025 average price of natural gas for power plants will rise 37% from 2024 levels.
Analysts at S&P Global Commodity Insights project “a continued rebound in thermal coal consumption throughout 2026 as thermal coal prices remain competitive with short-term natural gas prices encouraging gas-to-coal switching,” S&P coal analyst Wendy Schallom told me in an email.
“Stronger power demand, rising natural gas prices, delayed coal retirements, stockpiles trending lower, and strong thermal coal exports are vital to U.S. coal revival in 2025 and 2026.”
And we’re all going to be paying the price.
Rural Marylanders have asked for the president’s help to oppose the data center-related development — but so far they haven’t gotten it.
A transmission line in Maryland is pitting rural conservatives against Big Tech in a way that highlights the growing political sensitivities of the data center backlash. Opponents of the project want President Trump to intervene, but they’re worried he’ll ignore them — or even side with the data center developers.
The Piedmont Reliability Project would connect the Peach Bottom nuclear plant in southern Pennsylvania to electricity customers in northern Virginia, i.e.data centers, most likely. To get from A to B, the power line would have to criss-cross agricultural lands between Baltimore, Maryland and the Washington D.C. area.
As we chronicle time and time again in The Fight, residents in farming communities are fighting back aggressively – protesting, petitioning, suing and yelling loudly. Things have gotten so tense that some are refusing to let representatives for Piedmont’s developer, PSEG, onto their properties, and a court battle is currently underway over giving the company federal marshal protection amid threats from landowners.
Exacerbating the situation is a quirk we don’t often deal with in The Fight. Unlike energy generation projects, which are usually subject to local review, transmission sits entirely under the purview of Maryland’s Public Service Commission, a five-member board consisting entirely of Democrats appointed by current Governor Wes Moore – a rumored candidate for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination. It’s going to be months before the PSC formally considers the Piedmont project, and it likely won’t issue a decision until 2027 – a date convenient for Moore, as it’s right after he’s up for re-election. Moore last month expressed “concerns” about the project’s development process, but has brushed aside calls to take a personal position on whether it should ultimately be built.
Enter a potential Trump card that could force Moore’s hand. In early October, commissioners and state legislators representing Carroll County – one of the farm-heavy counties in Piedmont’s path – sent Trump a letter requesting that he intervene in the case before the commission. The letter followed previous examples of Trump coming in to kill planned projects, including the Grain Belt Express transmission line and a Tennessee Valley Authority gas plant in Tennessee that was relocated after lobbying from a country rock musician.
One of the letter’s lead signatories was Kenneth Kiler, president of the Carroll County Board of Commissioners, who told me this lobbying effort will soon expand beyond Trump to the Agriculture and Energy Departments. He’s hoping regulators weigh in before PJM, the regional grid operator overseeing Mid-Atlantic states. “We’re hoping they go to PJM and say, ‘You’re supposed to be managing the grid, and if you were properly managing the grid you wouldn’t need to build a transmission line through a state you’re not giving power to.’”
Part of the reason why these efforts are expanding, though, is that it’s been more than a month since they sent their letter, and they’ve heard nothing but radio silence from the White House.
“My worry is that I think President Trump likes and sees the need for data centers. They take a lot of water and a lot of electric [power],” Kiler, a Republican, told me in an interview. “He’s conservative, he values property rights, but I’m not sure that he’s not wanting data centers so badly that he feels this request is justified.”
Kiler told me the plan to kill the transmission line centers hinges on delaying development long enough that interest rates, inflation and rising demand for electricity make it too painful and inconvenient to build it through his resentful community. It’s easy to believe the federal government flexing its muscle here would help with that, either by drawing out the decision-making or employing some other as yet unforeseen stall tactic. “That’s why we’re doing this second letter to the Secretary of Agriculture and Secretary of Energy asking them for help. I think they may be more sympathetic than the president,” Kiler said.
At the moment, Kiler thinks the odds of Piedmont’s construction come down to a coin flip – 50-50. “They’re running straight through us for data centers. We want this project stopped, and we’ll fight as well as we can, but it just seems like ultimately they’re going to do it,” he confessed to me.
Thus is the predicament of the rural Marylander. On the one hand, Kiler’s situation represents a great opportunity for a GOP president to come in and stand with his base against a would-be presidential candidate. On the other, data center development and artificial intelligence represent one of the president’s few economic bright spots, and he has dedicated copious policy attention to expanding growth in this precise avenue of the tech sector. It’s hard to imagine something less “energy dominance” than killing a transmission line.
The White House did not respond to a request for comment.
Plus more of the week’s most important fights around renewable energy.
1. Wayne County, Nebraska – The Trump administration fined Orsted during the government shutdown for allegedly killing bald eagles at two of its wind projects, the first indications of financial penalties for energy companies under Trump’s wind industry crackdown.
2. Ocean County, New Jersey – Speaking of wind, I broke news earlier this week that one of the nation’s largest renewable energy projects is now deceased: the Leading Light offshore wind project.
3. Dane County, Wisconsin – The fight over a ginormous data center development out here is turning into perhaps one of the nation’s most important local conflicts over AI and land use.
4. Hardeman County, Texas – It’s not all bad news today for renewable energy – because it never really is.