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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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A bill awaiting Governor Gavin Newsom’s signature would require utilities to at least offer to subsidize home electrification.
Going into this final stretch of the summer, I’m keeping an eye on California. Today is the last day for the state legislature to pass bills as part of its 2026 session, and lawmakers have already sent some interesting clean energy proposals to Governor Gavin Newsom’s desk.
On Friday, the legislature passed the Home Energy Choice Act, a bill supporting the transition to all-electric homes in the state, which builds on a growing set of policies and programs I’ve been writing about called “non-pipeline alternatives.”
Natural gas companies are constantly replacing and expanding the pipelines that deliver gas to people’s homes, but these kinds of investments are starting to look less prudent in states that are trying to transition off of fossil fuels. Utilities recover the costs of pipelines over decades through the rates their customers pay; but as people start to electrify their homes, there will be fewer customers to absorb those expenses, risking ballooning energy bills. Non-pipeline alternative programs typically require utilities to consider options for deferring or even avoiding these investments.
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Several states have created pilot programs that enable utilities to take the money they would have spent replacing an aging pipeline and instead use it to help customers go electric. Two years ago, California lawmakers authorized such a pilot focused on decarbonizing entire neighborhoods, but the implementation has been slow. The deadline for utilities to submit proposals for the first round of pilot projects isn’t until next April.
The Home Energy Choice Act would complement that program. Whereas the pilots are designed to work around replacing gas mains, the larger pipes that run down the middle of streets, the new bill would target gas service lines, the smaller pipes that connect individual homes to the mains.
In some ways, the new bill is more aggressive than the existing pilot program. In the case of the pilots, the utility has to get 67% of a neighborhood onboard before seeking approval from the utility commission to decarbonize. The new program would set no such threshold. Every time a utility identifies a service line that needs to be replaced, it will have to offer the customer at the end of the line a financial incentive to electrify instead. If Governor Newsom signs the bill, it will be the first law in the country to require investor-owned utilities to offer their customers non-pipeline alternatives.
Still, it’s entirely up to the customer whether or not to accept the incentive, so it’s unclear how effective it will be. The bill doesn’t specify how much money the utility has to offer, punting that decision to the state’s regulators. But it does say the incentive has to be lower than the average cost of a service line replacement so that it creates net savings for the utility — and therefore for the utility’s ratepayers. Service line replacements average $35,000 to $55,000 in California, according to an evaluation of the Home Energy Choice Act by University of California, Los Angeles, researchers. Earthjustice and the Natural Resources Defense Council, the environmental groups that backed the bill, propose a base incentive of $15,000 per home, with a bump to $20,000 for homes in disadvantaged communities.
While that might sound substantial, it’s not going to be enough, in many cases, to cover the entire cost of heat pumps, an electric water heater, an electric or induction stove, and an electric clothes dryer. The UCLA study pins average costs for whole-home electrification in California at upwards of $25,000.
Homeowners will be able to combine the incentive with other state subsidies, but that can get complicated. One of the biggest challenges with these kinds of programs is that planning a whole-home electrification project is essentially a full time job.
Last fall, I wrote about an incentive program run by the utility Con Edison in New York State called Electric Advantage. It’s similar to California’s neighborhood pilots, in that it targets gas mains instead of service lines. If all the homeowners served by a main agree to go electric, ConEd will cover 100% of the cost of replacing their gas-powered appliances with electric versions, plus installing insulation and air sealing. My story was about Julie Liu, a contractor the utility hires to manage these projects. Liu fronts the cost of the retrofit and handles all of the scheduling and coordination between electricians, plumbers, insulation specialists, and other building professionals. She braids together various incentives to get the job done for as little money as possible. And what I learned in writing about her is that she was basically one of a kind — ConEd hadn’t been able to find anyone else to do what she did.
That leads me to one of my big questions about this California bill: Will the gas companies manage the retrofits themselves, contract with third parties like Liu, or just give the money directly to homeowners? The bill doesn't specify, so that’s something utility regulators will have to work out if Newsom signs it into law.
I also wonder about relying on utilities to sell the idea of electrification to customers, especially since not all natural gas companies in California offer electricity service. How hard will they try to lose business? The bill does contain some safeguards to ensure the companies make a concerted effort, such as requiring that they notify customers of the climate and health benefits of going electric and of additional incentives they might be eligible for. The UCLA report recommends that regulators create additional incentives to get utilities on board, such as giving them a generous rate of return on the cost of the program.
Despite these questions, the bill looks well-suited for this moment of concerns about energy affordability, with its focus on reducing capital spending and maintaining customer choice. Newsom has until September 30 to veto it or sign it into law.
Environmental groups are lining up against an influx of new PFAS designed to cool AI infrastructure.
This spring, the chemicals company Chemours asked the U.S. government for permission to begin manufacturing 3-Hexene, 1,1,1,2,2,5,5,6,6,6-decafluoro-, (3E)- (CAS RN 1256353-26-0). Because that’s a mouthful, the company also gave the new compound an easier-to-say name: Opteon 2P50.
Under normal circumstances, the filing for Opteon 2P50 would not have been particularly remarkable. As it stands, the compound is one of several hundred chemicals currently under review by the Environmental Protection Agency, pursuant to Section 5 of the Toxic Substances Control Act — the statute that requires companies to seek government approval before they start pumping out new goos, gels, gases, and solvents for commercial use. But when filing its premanufacture notice this spring, Chemours flagged Opteon 2P50 for priority review, describing the “critical societal need” the chemical “directly addresses” — that is, the build-out of data centers.
A surge in demand for coolants, water treatments, specialized fire suppressants, and coatings for semiconductors, among other chemicals, has paralleled the data center boom. One market research firm projects that the market for immersion-cooling fluids alone will grow from just shy of $4.9 billion to $11.1 billion by 2030. The industry has seized on the opportunity, with the American Chemistry Council running sponsored content in Beltway publications like Politico and Axios last year pushing for regulatory easements. “AI and other breakthroughs depend on chemistry,” one such headline reads.
Then last summer, President Trump issued an executive order to streamline the federal permitting and regulatory processes around artificial intelligence. EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin followed that move with an announcement that the agency would henceforth prioritize TSCA reviews for any data center-related chemicals and compounds, bypassing what is often a years-long bottleneck. In the eight months since, I’ve counted four new filings for chemicals with purported data center cooling uses, including a rival coolant to Opteon 2P50 from Schimmer & Schwarz.
But Opteon 2P50 stands out for a few reasons. The biggest is that the compound is a polyfluoroalkyl substance, which, along with perfluoroalkyl substances, are referred to as PFAS, or colloquially as “forever chemicals.” Opteon 2P50’s fast-track request has alarmed environmental, public health, and watchdog groups, who fear that the Trump administration’s regulatory shortcut has created a fast lane for approving new PFAS, which can be nearly impossible to remove from the environment once contamination occurs.
So far, two data center-related PFAS are under review by the EPA, Maria Doa, the chemicals policy senior director at the Environmental Defense Fund, told me: a heat transfer fluid with an “almost completely redacted” filing, and Opteon 2P50. While the latter filing is also heavily redacted, it left enough of a paper trail of lab work and toxicology studies that Earthjustice felt it had the grounds to build a credible opposition. “There was a lot of information for us to comment on and make an opinion on the chemical,” Adriana Antezana, a staff scientist at Earthjustice, told me. “It was also one of the few chemicals so far that have been submitted for the EPA to do a priority review under the executive order to prioritize data center infrastructure. That’s why we flagged it.”
It’s fairly common for premanufacture notices, or PMNs, to include heavy redactions as companies argue they need to shield confidential business information; about two-thirds of TSCA filings from 1979 to 2009 did so in the name of protecting trade secrets, according to a review by the Environmental Working Group, a nonpartisan public health and accountability organization. Still, an Earthjustice-fronted coalition of 17 environmental groups has formally asked the EPA to deny the premanufacture notice for Opteon 2P50 because they say it presents “unreasonable risk” to human health and the environment as a PFAS. They also contend that the full information on the risks to people who’ve been exposed to Opteon 2P50 is “unlawfully” redacted from the filing.
“It seems like chemical companies that create PFAS are hopping on the opportunity to create them for electrical industries,” Antezana said. “Obviously this administration is very supportive of semiconductor manufacturing and data centers, and it seems like, unfortunately, there is an opportunity there for a lot of them to get their chemicals approved and used widely.”
Also at play: The company 3M ceased manufacturing PFAS at the end of last year, leaving a vacuum that Chemours appears eager to fill with Opteon 2P50. The new liquid could replace 3M’s Novec immersion-cooling fluid, the previous industry standard, because it also doesn’t conduct electricity. The appeal of such a chemical is obvious: Many data centers currently use water-intensive evaporative cooling or chilling systems to keep their electronics from overheating. (This is why some opponents describe AI as “thirsty.”) Opteon 2P50, on the other hand, facilitates a completely closed-loop system. Because it doesn’t conduct electricity, electronic equipment can be submerged directly into the fluid, which boils off the heat. The vapors cool and condense back into a liquid — the referent in “two-phase immersion cooling” — and recirculate into the tanks.
Chemours has said that Opteon 2P50 can lead to a 90% reduction in cooling energy, a 60% reduction in a data center’s physical footprint, and “nearly eliminate water use,” all with minimal leakage into the environment — the estimated upper-bound emission rate is 2% per year, a company spokesperson told me. (Chemours declined to make a spokesperson available for an interview for this story and provided a statement about its filing via email. The EPA did not respond to a request for comment.)
Chemours has also insisted that Opteon 2P50 is not, in fact, a PFAS. On its face, that is a dubious argument. Per the internationally used structural definition of a PFAS, it's right in the compound’s long formal name, with the initial string of 10 numbers describing the location of 10 fluorine atoms bonded to carbon — the strongest common single bond in organic chemistry and the reason “forever” chemicals are so difficult to break down and remove once they enter the environment. (It’s also why they make great water-resistant coatings.)
But if a PFAS designation is intended to characterize the persistence of a compound — a narrower definition used by the EPA — then Opteon 2P50 doesn’t fit the bill. After a lifespan of only about 70 days in the atmosphere, it reacts and breaks apart into perfluorinated aldehyde, which in turn breaks down into two ultra-short-chain PFAS: perfluoropropanoic acid (PFPrA) and trifluoroacetic acid (TFA).
It might seem like splitting hairs — if Opteon 2P50 eventually breaks down into PFAS, shouldn’t that be all that matters? — but the company’s aversion to the label is understandable. Concern around PFAS has ballooned in recent years as awareness of the difficulty (and in some cases, near impossibility) of removing such compounds from drinking water has increased. The known and suspected health effects of some PFAS, such as PFOA, can also be alarming, including cancers, fertility issues, and pregnancy complications. The issue has created a rift in Trumpworld, dividing the Make America Healthy Again contingent from regulatory reform advocates and industry lobbyists.
While a minority of data centers across the country use closed-loop cooling systems at this point, and of those an even smaller subset use immersion cooling that requires a specialized dielectric fluid like a PFAS, new facilities are already facing public opinion headwinds that a PFAS association could compound. (In a statement, the American Chemistry Council told me: “Not all PFAS are the same. Individual chemistries have differing properties, uses, and environmental and health profiles, and should be evaluated based on their specific characteristics and the best available science rather than treated as a single class.”)
While Chemours argues that leakage isn’t an issue with Opteon 2P50, the fact that it shared an estimated emission rate with me at all acknowledges the realistic possibility that some will reach the outside world. That may be during manufacturing — Chemours said in its filing that it will make Opteon 2P50 outside the United States and import it to its headquarters, but if the PMN is approved, it will also have legal grounds to produce it stateside — or during its disposal, after an estimated 20 years of use in a data center, as confirmed to me by a company spokesperson. But there are few clues to what that end-of-life disposal process would look like. Antezana of Earthjustice told me that in Chemours’ filing, there is “virtually no acknowledgment of disposal” at all. Chemours’ marketing also suggests it is interested in exploring the use of Opteon 2P50 outside data centers, including in electric vehicle batteries, where leaks would presumably be more difficult to contain.
“The rule of thumb is that refrigerants leak,” Lenny Siegel, the director of Chips Communities United, a CHIPS Act watchdog group that also opposes the approval of Opteon 2P50, explained to me. “They can leak when they’re being made; they can leak when they’re being stored; they can leak when they’re being transported; they can leak when they’re being installed in tanks or removed from tanks. My refrigerator might last 20 years, but the electronics in a data center will probably be obsolete in a few years, and there’s been no discussion of how they’re going to make sure that there’s no release [of Opteon 2P50].”
Siegel mentioned his refrigerator because Opteon 2P50 is also a hydrofluoroolefin, or HFO — a class of compounds that break down in the atmosphere in a matter of weeks and are used as alternatives to older CFCs and HFCs, refrigerants that deplete the ozone. In addition to fueling the argument that it isn’t a PFAS, this characteristic is also why the company goes further to say it can actually help fight global warming. It has a far lower warming potential than traditional coolants, which Chemours said in its sustainability report released last week is helping it to reduce its scope 3 emissions.
But this is also where things start to get tricky. Remember those two ultra-short-chain PFAS Opteon 2P50 breaks down into: PFPrA and TFA? The pair are “known for their high mobility in water and difficulty to contain and remediate, resulting in their ubiquitous presence, widespread contamination, and substantial risks to human health and the environment,” Earthjustice said in its public comment. The organization further cites the European Chemicals Agency’s June decision to classify TFA as a reproductive toxin that “may damage fertility.”
“Assuming [Opteon 2P50 is] used, it will be released into the environment, go into the upper atmosphere, and break down and spread TFA on the landscape,” Siegel told me. Its main pathway into humans is through uptake by plants that we or other animals eat; TFA has been detected across food types, one study found, including in bananas, tomatoes, muffins, chicken breast, and wheat.
But Mads Sulbaek Andersen, a professor of chemistry at California State University, Northridge, whose research on TFA Earthjustice cites in its filing to the EPA, told me he thinks the opposition has blown the danger way out of proportion. “You will find people in industry saying sometimes that TFA is not a problem because it is not toxic,” he said. “I would say that’s not quite correct. Everything is toxic [in large enough amounts], but the risk that we see from TFA is not worth worrying about.”
Sulbaek Andersen is a panel member for the United Nations Environmental Program under the Montreal Protocol, which recently concluded an update to the parties on the state of the environment and the gases being used as replacements for the old ozone-depleting CFCs. During its review, which projected how TFA is likely to accumulate in the environment through 2100, “the conclusion is that the risk to environmental health and human health is de minimis,” he told me. He further told me that he thinks the European Chemicals Agency made a mistake in defining TFA as toxic at all, basing its decision on what he described as a “problematic study” with “laboratory issues,” and that Earthjustice, by extension, is overreacting to the Opteon 2P50 filing. (Some research has linked TFA exposure to eye and skeletal abnormalities in rabbit offspring, though animal studies are not necessarily indicative of toxicity to humans.)
“They’re saying that the EPA shouldn’t approve it because it’s a PFAS? That statement is nonsense,” he told me when I asked him about it. “You can decide that you don’t want any PFAS [approved], but that’s not founded in science — that’s just opinion.”
Not everyone in his field agrees. Hans Peter Arp, an environmental chemist at the Norwegian Geotechnical Institute, is the lead author of a 2024 paper that describes the buildup of TFA as an irreversible “global threat.” “It’s just a matter of time before PFAS from different sources accumulate to levels that are more concerning,” he told me. The pharmaceutical and semiconductor industries are other sources of atmospheric TFA, and it’s yet unclear how a compound like Opteon 2P50 could add to that contamination if it is widely adopted in data centers. A single immersion tank holds around 1,270 liters of fluid, and a hyperscale data center could house hundreds of tanks.
“That’s what I’m worried about in all my discussions of TFA and PFAS,” Arp went on. “That this new Opteon will be one more source, of many sources, that will lead to an accumulation that is a permanent, fixed thing. It’s not like we stop using it and it goes away. It doesn’t work like that.”
Real questions remain about the practical use of Opteon 2P50, too. As Earthjustice’s filing notes, all the data from Chemours about its use and efficiency are based on small-scale tests, and there is still “no indication it can be used at scale in data centers.” A 2016 study by the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory that assessed a different dielectric heat transfer fluid that was functionally analogous to Opteon 2P50, though chemically distinct, and found “significant issues with the substance and deemed its use ‘not viable at this time,’” Earthjustice’s report notes.
Chemours faces substantial competition. PFAS-free hydrocarbon, CO2 and ammonia chillers, and CO2 CRAC units “are already cooling data centers in Europe and North America efficiently,” ATMOsphere, a market accelerator for clean cooling, writes in its 2025 report. Though there are some concerns that these so-called “natural refrigerants” aren’t as effective as PFAS, “I try to emphasize that if there are safer chemicals that we can use in the production, we should favor those technologies,” Arp told me. “I know I probably can’t do much about limiting data center growth,” he went on. “But we can at least try to make them in as environmentally sustainable a way as possible, such as using geothermal energy — and using cooling systems that do not require PFAS.”
Though Sulbaek Andersen insisted on avoiding the clumsy vilification of PFAS — a term that describes a molecular structure found in millions of compounds — as uniformly “bad” or “dangerous,” several U.S. states and the EU have made moves toward phasing them out. Still, given the prevailing atmosphere, Chemours’ bet on Opteon 2P50 surprised me.
But whether Opteon 2P50 is ultimately deemed unviable or quickly made obsolete by laws or competitors, it appears certain to be among the first of many data center-related chemicals and PFAS for an overtaxed and understaffed EPA to review. “I suspect there will be more chemicals coming along the pipeline,” Antezana, the Earthjustice scientist, told me, sounding weary.
Given the pressure on the EPA from the Trump administration, coupled with business-friendly exceptions for transparency around health impacts that make it difficult for watchdog groups to sound the alarm, now may be a poor time to play fast and loose with a substance that could end up in the environment forever.
As Arp, the environmental chemist, warned, the agency needs to get a decision on a chemical like Opteon 2P50 right the first time; if toxicology studies later confirm serious human health impacts of TFA, it would be too late to backtrack. “This is something we’ve gotten to too late, too often,” he said.
On British nuclear, Puerto Rican water, and the U.S. solar supply chain
Current conditions: Dolly is no longer a tropical storm, but the remnants of the system are set to drench the northern Caribbean, especially the Leeward Islands, the British and U.S. Virgin Islands, and eastern Puerto Rico • One person died and at least 14 hikers are missing in flash floods in the Grand Canyon that forced airlifts on Sunday • In the Pacific, Tropical Storm Karina is rapidly strengthening into a hurricane, but it’s unlikely to make landfall anywhere.
The United States has brokered what President Donald Trump called “the biggest oil deal in world history” with Venezuela, securing majority control over more than 65 million barrels of the South American nation’s proven supply of crude. In a post on his Truth Social network Friday evening, Trump said the agreement would “more than double American oil reserves” and “substantially lower gas prices for all Americans, long into the future, while helping to continue to set Venezuela on a course toward tremendous success and great prosperity.” Appearing on national television for a six-minute address, Venezuela’s interim President Delcy Rodríguez, who took power after the U.S. captured former leader Nicolás Maduro in a night-time raid nearly nine months ago, said the pact would allow Caracas to earn more than $209 billion in revenue and become “an energy powerhouse.” While “everyone knows our country has the biggest oil reserves in the world,” she said, “having resources underground isn’t enough.” She added, according to The Guardian’s translation: “It’s no use having our oil resources underground, only to appear in statistics or bookkeeping.” The deal is good news for the string of U.S. oil refineries on the Gulf coast that were designed for the heavy crude that comes out of Venezuela. As it stands, my colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote last week, “America’s oil refineries are going all out.”
For all the fears stirred up by Central Intelligence Agency Director John Ratcliffe’s recent surprise visit to Moscow — remember, the last two times an American spy chief went to Russia, it was to try to dissuade the Kremlin from invading Ukraine or commit the first war-time nuclear bombing since World War II — the country doesn’t seem particularly ready to, as The Wall Street Journal reported, risk war with Washington by attacking a North Atlantic Treaty Organization country. Russia’s gasoline production fell to about 70% of domestic consumption levels in August following a series of Ukrainian drone attacks that forced major refineries offline, two industry sources told Reuters.
In June, New York led Northeast states in filing a lawsuit against the Trump administration, challenging the deals the Department of the Interior struck with offshore wind developers to pay out billions in taxpayer-funded “settlements” in exchange for abandoning the already-stalled turbine projects. Now California has filed its own lawsuit over what Attorney General Rob Bonta called the administration’s “blatantly unlawful” buyout of wind leases off the state’s coast. “The Trump administration’s backroom buyout with Golden State Wind to stop offshore wind development in favor of gas and oil drilling is, unfortunately, a classic playbook for them to line the pockets of their Big Oil donors,” Bonta said in a statement. “Let’s be clear: California will continue to aggressively fight back against the Trump administration’s outrageous abuse of taxpayer dollars to abandon offshore wind investments that could have delivered union-paying jobs and reliable clean energy to Californians.” The California Energy Commission, which joined the lawsuit, called the Interior Department’s efforts to curb offshore wind development “reckless” in the face of rising electricity demand. Adding to the malcontent over President Donald Trump’s most fruitful effort yet to kill off a specific clean energy sector that has drawn his ire since before he entered politics, my colleague Robinson Meyer noted earlier this month that the deals — more of which have come since the California settlement — are all for projects that were unlikely to move forward anyway.

Until 1991, the United States produced the majority of the uranium its reactors (and atomic war machine) needed. Then came “megatons to megawatts.” Under the pithily named program, the U.S. took a victory lap after winning the Cold War by agreeing to import virtually any reactor fuel Russia made from disassembled weapons. American power plants received cheap fuel, a chaotically marketizing Russia found a market for some of its most coveted materials, and the world averted nuclear apocalypse. The only problem is that, contrary to the rhetoric of the time, history didn’t end. What nearly did end was domestic production of uranium and reactor fuel as Russian imports put American suppliers out of business. Nearly four decades later, the U.S. has banned Russian imports, and the exemptions to the prohibition end in 2028. The good news is that the U.S. is stepping up. In 2025, uranium concentrate production totaled 2.1 million pounds of triuranium octoxide — the base component for reactor fuel, known as yellowcake. That, according to the latest U.S. Energy Information Administration analysis, is the most since 2017 and more than triple the volume produced in 2024. But it’s still far from enough for energy independence. U.S. power plants used nearly 47 million pounds of yellowcake in 2025, down from just under 56 million pounds in 2024. Regardless of whether all the reactors currently underway move forward, that number is going up. New supply is coming. On Friday, developer Anfield Energy told The Northern Miner that it’s seeking to raise at least $50 million in financing in the coming months to refurbish and reopen Utah’s Shootaring Canyon mill, one of only three licensed, permitted, and constructed uranium mills in the U.S.

The U.S. supply boost could also benefit the United Kingdom, which is working with Washington on spurring along its own nuclear renaissance. A new YouGov poll released Friday found nuclear power to be Britain’s preferred future electricity source, with 21% of Britons saying it should be prioritized, compared to 19% for solar and 18% for offshore wind. Just over half of the voters surveyed doubted renewables alone could provide enough electricity to meet the nation’s power demand and lower costs. That’s despite nearly 50 gigawatts of onshore wind in the development pipeline across Great Britain, according to Renewables Now.
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Britons’ doubts over renewables come as England’s water network heaves under the stress of a severe “flash drought” that Bloomberg said “is showing no signs of easing,” forcing water companies to truck supplies in and call for emergency restrictions. At least 30 million now face a temporary ban on using hoses and outdoor pipes.
Nearly 200,000 households and businesses are still without steady access to running water in Puerto Rico, where drought has collided with an aging aquifer system that leaks, by some estimates, more than half its supply of freshwater. Climate change reduced rainfall in America’s most populous non-state territory by 9% between May and July of this year, according to a new study by more than 20 scientists worldwide. The conclusion, the San Juan-based Centro de Periodismo Investigativo reported, is that drought “will persist and worsen.”
Earlier this month, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo and I reported, the Trump administration tossed solar manufacturers a lifeline, raising tariffs on imported panel components in a bid to help factories compete with imports after Republicans’ sweeping tax law eliminated the federal incentives for developers to buy American-made photovoltaics. Since then, analysts have debated whether the minimum prices set in the Department of Commerce’s policy are sufficient to spur new investments in the production of solar cells. At least one company is announcing a project. In a post on LinkedIn last week, Oklahoma City-based Nextnova Solar unveiled plans for a 2-gigawatt solar cell factory in its home state. The company expects to bring the facility online in November and begin mass production in March 2027, according to PV Tech, which noted the possibility to expand to 5 gigawatts of annual production sometime in the future.
Meanwhile, the Minnesota-based manufacturer Heliene is preparing for a trial run of panels using American-made glass. The company has 1.3 gigawatts of crystalline silicon module capacity production, and recently formed a partnership to secure more locally sourced wafers and cells. But U.S.-made glass “has so far been a key missing element,” PV Tech reported in a separate story. Heliene’s pilot run will use glass from Ohio-based Stewart Glass. “As U.S. module manufacturing has been growing, there has been no supply of non-iron content glass,” Heliene CEO Martin Pochtaruk told the trade publication. “Being able to use glass versus importing glass is also part of de-risking the geopolitics of imports from Asia, and that’s why it’s so important.”
In the U.S., we are still working our heads around building out a charging network that can comfortably keep electric cars fueled up from coast to coast with the same ease as a vehicle that can just fill up at a gas station. In China, auto giant BYD is now rolling out its ultra-fast chargers, which can restore a vehicle’s battery as quickly as you can fill up a gas tank. Just a few months ago, BYD marked its 5,000th Flash Charger deployment. Now it’s up to 10,000 across 300 different centers, InsideEVs reported last week, cribbing from the Chinese news site IT Home.