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In practice, direct lithium extraction doesn’t quite make sense, but 2026 could be its critical year.

Lithium isn’t like most minerals.
Unlike other battery metals such as nickel, cobalt, and manganese, which are mined from hard-rock ores using drills and explosives, the majority of the world’s lithium resources are found in underground reservoirs of extremely salty water, known as brine. And while hard-rock mining does play a major role in lithium extraction — the majority of the world’s actual production still comes from rocks — brine mining is usually significantly cheaper, and is thus highly attractive wherever it’s geographically feasible.
Reaching that brine and extracting that lithium — so integral to grid-scale energy storage and electric vehicles alike — is typically slow, inefficient, and environmentally taxing. This year, however, could represent a critical juncture for a novel process known as Direct Lithium Extraction, or DLE, which promises to be faster, cleaner, and capable of unlocking lithium across a wider range of geographies.
The traditional method of separating lithium from brine is straightforward but time-consuming. Essentially, the liquid is pumped through a series of vast, vividly colored solar evaporation ponds that gradually concentrate the mineral over the course of more than a year.
It works, but by the time the lithium is extracted, refined, and ready for market, both the demand and the price may have shifted significantly, as evidenced by the dramatic rise and collapse of lithium prices over the past five years. And while evaporation ponds are well-suited to the arid deserts of Chile and Argentina where they’re most common, the geology, brine chemistry, and climate of the U.S. regions with the best reserves are generally not amenable to this approach. Not to mention the ponds require a humongous land footprint, raising questions about land use and ecological degradation.
DLE forgoes these expansive pools, instead pulling lithium-rich brine into a processing unit, where some combination of chemicals, sorbents, or membranes isolate and extricate the lithium before the remaining brine gets injected back underground. This process can produce battery-grade lithium in a matter of hours or days, without the need to transport concentrated brine to separate processing facilities.
This tech has been studied for decades, but aside from a few Chinese producers using it in combination with evaporation ponds, it’s largely remained stuck in the research and development stage. Now, several DLE companies are looking to build their first commercial plants in 2026, aiming to prove that their methods can work at scale, no evaporation ponds needed.
“I do think this is the year where DLE starts getting more and more relevant,” Federico Gay, a principal lithium analyst at Benchmark Mineral Intelligence, told me.
Standard Lithium, in partnership with oil and gas major Equinor, aims to break ground this year on its first commercial facility in Arkansas’s lithium-rich Smackover Formation, while the startup Lilac Solution also plans to commence construction on a commercial plant at Utah’s Great Salt Lake. Mining giant Rio Tinto is progressing with plans to build a commercial DLE facility in Argentina, which is already home to one commercial DLE plant — the first outside of China. That facility is run by the French mining company Eramet, which plans to ramp production to full capacity this year.
If “prices are positive” for lithium, Gay said, he expects that the industry will also start to see mergers and acquisitions this year among technology providers and larger corporations such as mining giants or oil and gas majors, as “some of the big players will try locking in or buying technology to potentially produce from the resources they own.” Indeed, ExxonMobil and Occidental Petroleum are already developing DLE projects, while major automakers have invested, too.
But that looming question of lithium prices — and what it means for DLE’s viability — is no small thing. When EV and battery storage demand boomed at the start of the decade, lithium prices climbed roughly 10-fold through 2022 before plunging as producers aggressively ramped output, flooding the market just as EV demand cooled. And while prices have lately started to tick upward again, there’s no telling whether the trend will continue.
“Everyone seems to have settled on a consensus view that $20,000 a tonne is where the market’s really going to be unleashed,” Joe Arencibia, president of the DLE startup Summit Nanotech, told me, referring to the lithium extraction market in all of its forms — hard rock mining, traditional brine, and DLE. “As far as we’re concerned, a market with $14,000, $15,000 a tonne is fine and dandy for us.”
Lilac Solutions, the most prominent startup in the DLE space, expects that its initial Utah project — which will produce a relatively humble 5,000 tonnes of lithium per year — will be profitable even if lithium prices hit last year’s low of $8,300 per tonne. That’s according to the company’s CEO Raef Sully, who also told me that because Utah’s reserves are much lower grade than South America’s, Lilac could produce lithium for a mere $3,000 to $3,500 in Chile if it scaled production to 15,000 or 20,000 tonnes per year.
What sets Lilac apart from other DLE projects is its approach to separating lithium from brine. Most companies are pursuing adsorption-based processes, in which lithium ions bind to an aluminum-based sorbent, which removes them from surrounding impurities. But stripping the lithium from the sorbent generally requires a good deal of freshwater, which is not ideal given that many lithium-rich regions are parched deserts.
Lilac’s tech relies on an ion-exchange process in which small ceramic beads selectively capture lithium ions from the brine in their crystalline structure, swapping them for hydrogen ions. “The crystal structure seems to have a really strong attraction to lithium and nothing else,” Sully told me. Acid then releases the concentrated lithium. When compared with adsorption-based tech, he explained, this method demands far fewer materials and is “much more selective for lithium ions versus other ions,” making the result purer and thus cheaper to process into a battery-grade material.
Because adsorption-based DLE is already operating commercially and ion-exchange isn’t, Lilac has much to prove with its first commercial facility, which is expected to finalize funding and begin construction by the middle of this year.
Sully estimates that Lilac will need to raise around $250 million to build its first commercial facility, which has already been delayed due to the price slump. The company’s former CEO and current CTO Dave Snydacker told me in 2023 that he expected to commence commercial operations by the end of 2024, whereas now the company plans to bring its Utah plant online at the end of 2027 or early 2028.
“Two years ago, with where the market was, nobody was going to look at that investment,” Sully explained, referring to its commercial plant. Investors, he said, were waiting to see what remained after the market bottomed out, which it now seems to have done. Lilac is still standing, and while there haven’t yet been any public announcements regarding project funding, Sully told me he’s confident that the money will come together in time to break ground in mid-2026.
It also doesn’t hurt that lithium prices have been on the rise for a few months, currently hovering around $20,000 per tonne. Gay thinks prices are likely to stabilize somewhere in this range, as stakeholders who have weathered the volatility now have a better understanding of the market.
At that price, hard rock mining would be a feasible option, though still more expensive than traditional evaporation ponds and far above what DLE producers are forecasting. And while some mines operated at a loss or mothballed their operations during the past few years, Gay thinks that even if prices stabilize, hard-rock mines will continue to be the dominant source of lithium for the foreseeable future due to sustained global investment across Africa, Brazil, Australia, and parts of Asia. The price may be steeper, but the infrastructure is also well-established and the economics are well-understood.
“I’m optimistic and bullish about DLE, but probably it won’t have the impact that it was thought about two or three years ago,” Gay told me, as the hype has died down and prices have cooled from their record high of around $80,000 per tonne. By 2040, Benchmark forecasts that DLE will make up 15% to 20% of the lithium market, with evaporation ponds continuing to be a larger contributor for the next decade or so, primarily due to the high upfront costs of DLE projects and the time required for them to reach economies of scale.
On average, Benchmark predicts that this tech will wind up in “the high end of the second quartile” of the cost curve, making DLE projects a lower mid-cost option. “So it’s good — not great, good. But we’ll have some DLE projects in the first quartile as well, so competing with very good evaporation assets,” Gay told me.
Unsurprisingly, the technology companies themselves are more bullish on their approach. Even though Arencibia predicts that evaporation ponds will continue to be about 25% cheaper, he thinks that “the majority of future brine projects will be DLE,” and that DLE will represent 25% or more of the future lithium market.
That forecast comes in large part because Chile — the world’s largest producer of lithium from brine — has stated in its National Lithium Strategy that all new projects should have an “obligatory requirement” to use novel, less ecologically disruptive production methods. Other nations with significant but yet-to-be exploited lithium brine resources, such as Bolivia, could follow suit.
Sully is even more optimistic, predicting that as lithium demand grows from about 1.5 million tonnes per year to around 3.5 million tonnes by 2035, the majority of that growth will come from DLE. “I honestly believe that there will be no more hard rock mines built in Australia or the U.S.,” he said, telling me that in ten years time, half of our lithium supply could “easily” come from DLE.
As a number of major projects break ground this year and the big players start consolidating, we’ll begin to get a sense of whose projections are most realistic. But it won’t be until some of these projects ramp up commercial production in the 2028 to 2030 timeframe that DLE’s market potential will really crystalize.
“If you’re not a very large player at the moment, I think it’s very difficult for you to proceed,” Sully told me, reflecting on how lithium’s price shocks have rocked the industry. Even with lithium prices ticking precariously upwards now, the industry is preparing for at least some level of continued volatility and uncertainty.
“Long term, who knows what [prices are] going to be,” Sully said. “I’ve given up trying to predict.”
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Researchers, advocates, and funders gathered to discuss intervening in the global climate on purpose.
For decades, deliberately intervening in the Earth’s climate system was something most scientists and policymakers didn’t dare talk about. But last month, more than 250 people from six continents gathered in Reykjavik, Iceland for a three-day summit devoted entirely to willfully tinkering with the climate to make it more resilient.
The gathering served as a purposeful, if hesitant, coming out party for a field so controversial that just a few years ago, hundreds of researchers signed the Solar Geoengineering Non-Use Agreement, which called for an end to public funding for scientific research into the field. But this summit revealed that the sector — while still deeply divided over questions of money, governance, and deployment — is beginning to emerge from the shadows.
Why now? The consensus among climate scientists about our ability to mitigate warming is growing more dire by the day. The United Nations now acknowledges that limiting temperature to 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels is out of reach, putting more drastic adaptation solutions in play.
“It is increasingly clear to anyone who’s paying any attention that we are screwed, right? That we have blown past every possible reasonable threshold at which our existing theory of change can possibly lead to a safe and equitable climate future,” Joshua Elliott, chief scientist at Renaissance Philanthropy, told me. He directs the two-year-old nonprofit’s Advanced Research for Climate Emergencies initiative, which organized the event. “I feel like the second election of Trump was such a nail in the coffin.”
The three-day Global Risk and Stabilization Summit brought together scientists, engineers, funders, insurers, and at least one venture-backed startup to talk about everything from thickening Arctic sea ice to shielding Antarctic glaciers with underwater curtains to spraying reflective particles into the stratosphere to bounce a portion of incoming sunlight back into space. That last approach, a method of solar geoengineering known as stratospheric aerosol injection, tends to dominate geoengineering discussions, as it could theoretically cool the planet quickly and relatively cheaply.
That doesn’t mean it’s generally accepted, however. Far from it. The sessions at the ARC summit ran under Chatham House Rules, i.e. no reporting who said what — or even whether they were there at all — without explicit permission. ARC plans to release a synthesis report on the state of field next year, but in the meantime the conference website made clear: “Attending the summit does not imply that you endorse the report, any particular intervention, or the stabilization framing. Attending means you are taking part in the conversation and nothing more.”
This type of careful distancing is par for the course in geoengineering circles. Just as many mainstream climate advocates once viewed adaptation — and later carbon removal — as distractions from the need to cut emissions, geoengineering has suffered under the same criticisms. Its oftentimes sci-fi sounding interventions are already ripe conspiracy fodder. Add to that its underresearched environmental impacts and side effects, and some of these strategies could prove truly disastrous in the wrong hands.
But at least people are finally talking about it. In the weeks since the summit, attendees have published dozens of Substack and Linkedin posts about what they saw, heard, and took away from the conference. I talked to many of them about this first attempt to intentionally gather and grow the sector.
Naturally, they don’t all agree on the best path forward. Seemingly everyone acknowledges that conducting more research and designing better Earth monitoring systems is a no-lose situation. But big questions remain unresolved: what role private capital should play; how openly to discuss the possibility of near-term deployment; the somewhat uncomfortable overlap between climate engineering, defense, and national security; and how to educate policymakers and the general public about interventions that sound to some nefarious overlords trying to control the weather.
The field doesn’t even yet agree on what to call itself. The conference organizers prefer “Earth systems stabilization” to “geoengineering,” arguing that a sector like this should be defined by its goal rather than how it gets there. The terminology remains unsettled, however, with one critic, University of Waterloo economist and former geoengineering researcher Juan Moreno-Cruz telling me in an email that the renaming “feels like a campaign” with the “objective of moving more towards action.”
At this nascent stage, any one individual can have an outsized voice. Based on the published speaker list, as well as various recaps posted during and after the event, the guest list featured some of the field’s biggest names. That included David Keith, founder of the direct air capture company Carbon Engineering and a pioneer of solar geoengineering, which involves releasing aerosols like sulfates into the atmosphere to reflect a small portion of sunlight back into space. Also in attendance were Columbia University climate economist Gernot Wagner, Paris Agreement architect Sue Biniaz, and J.P. Morgan climate advisor Sarah Kapnick, alongside delegates from some of the big environmental NGOs, including the Environmental Defense Fund and Natural Resources Defense Council.
More potentially polarizing attendees included Yanai Yedvab, the CEO of solar geoengineering startup Stardust Solutions — one of the first for-profit entities to enter the space — and Lowercarbon Capital, the climate tech venture firm that led its Series A round.
The function that private sector funding and venture-style startups could or should play in this field remains one of the biggest points of tension. Many strongly believe that the only appropriate customer for a globally consequential intervention like stratospheric aerosol injection is a coalition of national governments. But there seems to be a preemptive acknowledgement among those I spoke with that getting the United Nations itself to align on research and potential terms of deployment is unlikely.
Paul Gambill, an ARC fellow and co-founder of Nori, an early carbon removal marketplace, told me that one session at the summit was titled “The Future is Minilateral,” a nod to the growing interest in a small bloc of countries — “maybe six or so” — working together on the issue. Several people I spoke with described a model in which governments would buy technology from a company like Stardust, but retain control over if, when, and how to deploy it.
But even within the ARC set, that framing seems to have skeptics. Noah Deich, another ARC fellow and carbon removal veteran who co-founded the nonprofit Carbon180, sees the profit motive as inherently dangerous. There’s no guarantee that the science will ever advance to the point where governments are comfortable becoming customers, but investors always want to see returns. That disconnect, he argues, creates the incentive to commercialize the technology before either the research or the public is ready.
“That to me is very, very concerning, and shows a lack of judgment at a first order for the people who have invested in this, and for the people who have accepted that private sector money,” Deich told me. “That makes me very, very wary about what they’re going to do when faced with the choice of, hey no government wants to do this. Or these governments have said it is illegal, and this one says it’s fine. Like, will they actually respect the ones that say it’s illegal?”
Others see private capital as all but inevitable. Susan Su, a climate tech investor and analyst, thinks the sector would do best to engage with the private sector strategically rather than fearfully. “Money in general comes with ideas, and in my view, that’s okay,” she told me. If a venture backer has their own notions about how and where to deploy stratospheric aerosol injection, for instance, that need not dictate the agenda. “It’s the entrepreneur’s or the initiative’s job to push back against those ideas and to shape them.”
Su also thinks the field ought to be more open to discussing deployment as a possible outcome from both the research and conditions on the ground, rather than treating it as the third rail. “There’s a sentiment of caution that I think is rooted in a previous era, where it’s been a long road to reach whatever limited consensus there is today that we should even research this,” she explained to me in an email. “With that much caveating, it’s hard to imagine why a funder would get excited to back something that everyone’s saying shouldn't exist.”
Still, it’s not hard to imagine a near-term future in which climate change presents an increasingly urgent national security concern, and the instant governments start treating geoengineering as a defense priority, the money could be practically limitless. Private geoengineering companies could function essentially as defense contractors, with militaries as their primary customers.
The comparison makes some understandably uneasy, as it risks framing climate interventions as weapons to be wielded by states with the resources to develop and deploy it. But however you look at it, “people are starting to realize, there’s no scenario where this stuff doesn’t become geopolitical very very fast,” Gambill told me. And that makes an already controversial field considerably messier.
One way to sidestep some of the thorniest questions around global governance could be to start with a focus on more localized interventions. In the Arctic, for example, companies such as Real Ice and Arctic Reflections are testing ways to thicken sea-ice by pumping seawater onto its surface during the winter. In Antarctica, researchers are studying the feasibility of underwater “seafloor curtains” in front of the Florida-sized Thwaites Glacier to keep warm ocean water from melting it from below. If that glacier were to fully collapse, it could raise global sea levels by up to two feet. There are also some truly low-tech options on the table, too: One calls for reintroducing bison to the Alaskan tundra, where their heavy footsteps would compact the snow and help keep the underlying permafrost frozen.
There’s even a more localized version of solar geoengineering. Called marine cloud brightening, it involves spraying a fine mist of seawater into low-lying clouds over the ocean. The salt particles encourage the formation of smaller cloud droplets, making the clouds brighter and more reflective, cooling the ocean and surface below. Unlike stratospheric aerosol injection, the impacts of which could persist for a year or more, a single deployment of marine cloud brightening lasts mere days, making it readily reversible and easier to test. Australian researchers have piloted this tech over the Great Barrier Reef.
"It feels like people read Kim Stanley Robinson’s novels and are trying to actually figure out if any of that stuff makes sense,” Deich told me. In Robinson’s acclaimed 2020 novel The Ministry for the Future, he imagines efforts at stratospheric aerosol injection, glacier stabilization, and large-scale rewilding in response to a fictional — but readily imaginable — catastrophic heat wave.
Deich worries, however, that he didn’t hear enough emphasis at the summit on the ongoing role carbon removal — not just emissions cuts — would have to play in a world even temporarily reliant on an intervention like stratospheric aerosol injection. That’s because of the risk of “termination shock”: If scientists suddenly halted solar geoengineering, the warming it had been masking would likely return within just a few years unless carbon removal efforts could draw down significant CO2 in the interim.
“The [carbon dioxide removal] community from the very early days tried very hard to say, first priority is obviously stopping emissions, but we also need to do removal, and we can’t wait for one to do the other,” Deich told me. “And I don’t see that same type of drumbeat being articulated by the SRM crowd.”
He and others are well aware of the moral hazard argument that has long dogged carbon removal: that this tech will give fossil fuel companies cover to keep emitting, and politicians an excuse to avoid the harder work of decarbonization. With carbon removal, however, that concern is generally simple to rebut. All recent IPCC reports have concluded that removals will be necessary to keep warming anywhere near safe levels. And in many cases, cutting emissions is still far cheaper than removing carbon after the fact.
But it’s a different calculus for an intervention like stratospheric aerosol injection, which is cheap by comparison and could lower global temperatures without doing anything to address the underlying emissions buildup. It’s easy to see how policymakers and the public could say, “Let’s let future generations deal with this building up of greenhouse gasses. We don’t really have to care about that now, we can just keep the temperatures a bit lower and buy ourselves time,” Robert Höglund, a carbon removal advisor and co-founder of the market tracker CDR.fyi, told me. “I think that’s fair. It’s a real risk.”
For its part, ARC plans to publish a report early next year bringing together the work of roughly 40 authors to lay out the state of the field’s science, governance, and social legitimacy. This will come alongside an open map of the interventions being studied and tested as well as funding and research gaps that remain. Rather than immediately holding another global summit, the organization plans to convene regional meetings next year primarily in low- and middle-income countries to explore possibilities for local research efforts in climate vulnerable nations. The next global gathering might then be scheduled for 2028.
In the meantime, many hope ARC and others will help shepherd along myriad research and communications efforts. Because if any message dominated the inaugural summit, it was: Geoengineering isn’t yet ready for prime time. There’s much more research to do, and significant stakeholder groundwork to lay, especially as the field considers how to best invite policymakers into the conversation.
“You cannot create a field. Nobody can declare it into existence,” ARC director Joshua Elliott told me of the effort to bring together the disparate experts working on climate stabilization. What organizations like ARC can do is build the infrastructure for it to emerge. That looks like convening researchers, advocates, and even skeptics; synthesizing siloed knowledge; opening the arguments to debate; establishing academic journals; and creating funding streams within governments and other institutions. But from there, the big decisions belong to others.
“That’s where our theory of change stops,” Elliott told me. ARC won’t decide whether the aerosols are injected into the atmosphere or Arctic ice is thickened. “It is the governments and the multilateral institutions that we have charged with making these decisions, despite however functional you think those institutions might be.”
Current conditions: Another atmospheric river is deluging the West Coast, this time in the Pacific Northwest • Dozens of U.S. cities notched record high temperatures in October • At least 11 of Thailand’s southern provinces are under emergency warnings for flooding and nearly 7-foot waves amid a surge of monsoon conditions.
The 31st annual global climate summit kicked off this morning in Antalya, a Turkish resort city on the country’s southern Mediterranean coast. Known as the 31st Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, or COP31, the event marks the second year in a row that virtually every nation on Earth will gather except the United States, after President Donald Trump withdrew the country from both the landmark 2015 Paris Agreement and from the larger global body shortly after his return to office last year. The biggest item on this year’s agenda, reports my colleague Emily Pontecorvo, is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035. Today the world uses electricity for just 21% of end-use energy. As I reported last week, the latest projections from the Rhodium Group put the likely electrification rate worldwide at 28% by 2035.
Senate negotiators on Saturday released an update to the text of the bipartisan permitting reform deal, known as the “manager’s amendment.” The new version of the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act, or BAAJA, overhauls the provisions to make building transmission lines easier, addressing concerns that a proposal to allow federal and state permitting to begin at the same time threatens states’ power. It also adds benefits for power lines renovated with advanced transmission technologies to allow them to carry more electricity. “There’s something in these changes for everyone — environmentalists, tribes, utilities,” my colleagues Robinson Meyer and Jael Holzman wrote over the weekend, “but it remains to be seen if they put the bill into a Goldilocks zone.” Perhaps most importantly from a political perspective, the revised legislation veers away from some proposals Native American groups had called an infringement on tribal sovereignty. “Definitely not enough to satisfy all tribes — there are 575 across the U.S. — but nonetheless, notable and probably approaching something large tribes and tribes with significant interest in energy development can live with,” Julian Brave NoiseCat, a writer and the first Oscar-nominated Indigenous North American filmmaker, wrote in a post on X. Still, in a sign “that there’s real effort here to try to honor tribal consultation,” he noted that the manager’s amendment excludes the records tribes share with federal and state governments from Freedom of Information Act, which would “keep sensitive sacred sites from exposure.”
The chamber is scheduled to hold a procedural vote on the bill later today. Last night, Trump himself finally endorsed BAAJA, urging “all senators” to vote for the bill on Monday, calling it a “big win for U.S. energy independence and dominance” in a post on Truth Social.
Anthropic has struck a deal for 1.7 gigawatts of gas-fired engines to power its data centers. Valued at $3.4 billion, the Claude maker has agreed to help with engineering and construction to install the generators as part of the deal with San Antonio, Texas-based equipment supplier OnePWR Solutions, the Financial Times reported over the weekend. Anthropic stopped short of acquiring OnePWR itself, instead taking over the generator orderbook previously pledged to construction giant Caterpillar.
The deal got plenty of notice in the financial newswires, and yet the news was largely overshadowed in the artificial intelligence world by the blockbuster revelation that Jensen Huang, the chief executive of AI chipmaker Nvidia, had an extramarital relationship with a Chinese spy, prompting an investigation by his company’s board of directors.
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Jean-Luc Mélenchon, France’s far-left presidential hopeful and the No. 2 candidate behind the far-right Marine Le Pen, has pledged to shut down the 18 nuclear power plants that provide the overwhelming majority of the country’s power and render its grid one of the cleanest in Europe. “We advocate a mixed economy guided by the ecological imperative,” Mélenchon said in a speech Saturday, in which he also promised to send French warships to Gaza to confront the Israeli military head on. The current nuclear power program, he said, “is dangerous, costly, and risky. We will abandon it.” Instead, he said, France would generate all its power from renewables, buttressing wind and solar with as-yet-unproven wave and tidal power technology. “If you criticize nuclear power in the same breath as you promote marine power, your policy isn’t a clown but rather the entire circus,” Seaver Wang, an oceanographer turned energy expert at the Breakthrough Institute in the U.S., wrote in a post on X.
Meanwhile, a political crisis in remote Paraguay has cast one of Latin America’s more promising would-be nuclear newcomers into uncertainty. Just last week, a source familiar with U.S. government plans to export nuclear technology told me Paraguay was near the top of the list of countries looking to set up a civilian nuclear program under Washington’s guidance. The two nations signed a memorandum of understanding in August, and U.S. Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau visited the country just last month as part of a trade delegation. Whether the landlocked South American nation bought reactors or not, Asunción had plans to ramp up mining of uranium and titanium, Mining.com reported. But President Santiago Peña’s abrupt resignation Thursday amid the collapse of Ueno Bank appears to bring any further progress to a halt, at least for now.
China’s registrations of new wind and solar projects fell over 11% in September compared to the previous month as the number of distributed renewable projects dipped. The country registered 3,536 solar projects and 15 wind projects that month, versus 3,972 solar and 29 wind projects in August, according to a Renewables Now analysis of official government data. That isn’t to say solar is slowing down. Newly registered utility-scale solar projects more than doubled to 53 in September from 23 in August.
Democrats’ strategy of finding candidates with strong local appeal continues paying off, even on the most down-ballot of races. Over the weekend, the Associated Press declared Democrat Brian Matlock the winner of the Arizona Mine Inspector race. With a white handlebar mustache, he certainly looks the part of the Southwestern mine inspector if ever there were one.
A new version of the bill strives to address environmental and tribal concerns while strengthening some of its transmission provisions.
We now have the updated final text of the bipartisan Senate permitting deal. Will it be enough to get the bill across the finish line?
On Saturday morning, senators released a reworked version of the Bipartisan Affordability and American Jobs Act. This version, known as a “manager’s amendment” under parliamentary procedure, aims to address many of the concerns and criticisms raised about the bill and will become the official legislative text that ultimately gets a vote in the Senate. There’s something in these changes for everyone – environmentalists, tribes, utilities – but it remains to be seen if they put the bill into a Goldilocks zone.
Let’s walk through some of the most significant changes. There are a lot of changes, and we’re sure people will spend the coming weeks poring over them, but here are a few key ones.
The amendment preserves — and even strengthens — many of the bill’s most important (and praised) transmission provisions, while addressing and easing some of the loudest Republican criticisms of the bill.
The new text leaves the bill’s core transmission mechanisms intact: Every grid region will have to run a long-term planning process with its neighbors, overseen by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, focused on how it can build more interregional lines. The bill lays out how these new power lines should be paid for, via a cost allocation formula that says customers who benefit from the lines need to pay for them. And it creates a new federal siting backstop, which allows the federal government to step in and approve the route for a line if a state has refused to do so.
The amendment deals with one of the provisions that faced the most criticism from former Republican regulators and ends one — but not all — of the bill’s mandates for vertically integrated monopoly utilities, which are largely in the Southeast.
In return, it strengthens the bill’s federal backstop siting provision for transmission lines, and it makes the overall bill more useful for transmission developers. It also clarifies that transmission developers can use some of the bill’s expedited powers without needing to use all of them.
“I think there’s some really good improvements in [the new text], and they provide more flexibility for more types of projects to go through,” said Rob Gramlich, a longtime advocate of federal transmission reform and the president of Grid Strategies, a power sector consulting firm.
In the original bill, a transmission developer could apply for state permits and the FERC federal backstop permit at the same time. A former Republican FERC Commissioner Mark Christie had savaged that provision, arguing recently in Utility Dive that it “effectively renders the state proceeding meaningless, and states will perceive it exactly that way.”
Now, for some advocates, rendering the state process moot was the whole point. But it also wasn’t clear whether developers would ever actually go to FERC and states simultaneously. Doing so would shove a finger in the eye of state regulators, essentially telling them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” The amendment removes the possibility of a simultaneous process; now developers must go to states for a year before they apply for the federal backstop.
The new version of the bill also exempts vertically integrated utilities that aren’t in an electricity market from an otherwise mandatory new process that will require utilities to plan their long-term transmission and their power plant expansion at the same time. That new process is inspired by the planning process used in the Southwest Power Pool, a Midwestern electricity market Midwestern grid.
The Southeast’s monopoly utilities, which are vertically integrated and don’t participate in a regional transmission organization, had disliked that provision, and it wasn’t clear the bill as written actually worked for their operations. That requirement has now been removed from the bill. Utilities won another victory by preserving existing rights of first refusal to build transmission infrastructure in federal law.
But they didn’t win every fight. These utilities will still be subject to the mandate requiring them to participate in an interregional planning process for transmission.
And the utilities will remain subject to a provision, particularly praised by anti-monopoly advocates, that allows states and FERC to exercise oversight over local transmission projects that can drive up electricity costs. The new bill clarifies that state public utility regulators are responsible for asking FERC to investigate these types of projects, and that a utility can invite scrutiny even if it’s replacing an old line, not just building a new one.
“I am relieved that the section survived generally, given what a target this was for utility lobbying. It was strengthened significantly by covering replacement of local facilities in addition to new-build,” David Pomerantz, the executive director of the utility watchdog the Energy and Policy Institute, said in a statement.
In return, Democrats secured a few big changes in the bill that could benefit transmission developers. First, transmission projects will now be able to use the bill’s cost allocation formula even if they don’t use the federal backstop authority. Second, transmission developers will be able to use the bill’s cost allocation formula for only part of their projects.
This makes the bill better in a few ways for transmission developers. First, a developer could get a route entirely approved by the states without having to come up with a new way to pay for it — they can use the formula that’s already in the bill. It also means a power line could use the formula to monetize one of its benefits to the grid without using them all. That could sweeten the economics for projects meant to, say, arbitrage power between two regions, allowing it to make money off its reliability benefits without altering its broader economics.
The amendment also clarifies that the new federal backstop siting authority applies to state-owned land. That closes a potential loophole in which a state government could acquire land from a property owner in order to block a federally approved project from getting built.
The bill also makes some technical changes to the 230-kilovolt floor for projects that can use the federal backstop. It establishes that a line using advanced conductoring technology — which generally allows more electricity at lower voltage — can use the backstop even if it’s not at least 230 kilovolts. But it must have a throughput roughly similar to what a conventional line of 230 kilovolts would have.
The amendment also makes it clear that a utility can’t decline to upgrade a piece of infrastructure — even one at lower voltage — in order to block a transmission line. In 2021, the utility NextEra had fought a major power line in Maine because it required the utility to upgrade a single power circuit at its Seabrook nuclear plant in New Hampshire.
These provisions broadly strengthen the most popular parts of the bill and may address some concerns from southeastern utilities, which could have torpedoed the bill in the House of Representatives.
At the same time, new text attempts to assuage opposition in both the environmental and tribal advocacy spaces, and it’s undeniable that on first blush, the manager’s amendment does address complaints from those camps about the bill. But as we’ll explain however, it’s unclear if this will be good enough for either community to lay down their arms.
First, Senate negotiators clearly took complaints about the “project certainty” provision seriously, including by dealing with language that would allegedly protect unlawful actions. Under the new bill text, agencies will be explicitly allowed to revoke or alter permits “in response to an order by a court”. The prior text of the bill did not grant federal agencies this explicit jurisdiction and said it could only rely on court orders to make those permit changes if a judge required it. As our colleague Emily Pontecorvo recently wrote, some environmental lawyers were concerned that this original text would inadvertently protect individual permits granted under policies that violated the law.
Other changes are similarly geared towards addressing complaints in the environmental legal space. The original text of the bill allowed companies to sue the federal government for “disparate treatment” against their industry, which would theoretically assist renewable energy companies gain legal leverage against the Trump administration’s permitting freeze. However, the old text used a 5-year baseline of past projects for determining “disparate treatment,” which could mean the president’s anti-wind and pro-fossil actions weren’t built into the baseline. The new bill extends that baseline to 10 years, potentially diluting the influence of Trumpian permitting practices over the next administration.
New language would explicitly stipulate that court settlements brought under these lawsuits must be approved by a court, an apparent nod to claims from critics that this provision could encourage more offshore wind buyouts.
The new text also cuts out or modifies reforms to the National Historic Preservation Act geared towards addressing complaints from Native American tribes. It strikes a controversial attempt to define “property of traditional religious or cultural importance” that was in the original text, and it eliminates a much-maligned provision that would let the Interior Secretary assume the role of a tribal historic preservation officer in certain cases.
These changes were insufficient to thaw the bloc of tribes opposed to the bill. The 106 Coalition, a group of tribal organizations including the National College of American Indians, sent a statement to media saying they’ll still oppose the bill and want the entire section of NHPA changes removed. The leader of the Coalition of Large Tribes, which has pushed for technical fixes to the bill but not opposed it outright, said in a statement it was “grateful to see many positive changes for tribes” but added there was “still room for improvement.”
Lastly, the new version of the bill adds another provision to address concerns that it doesn’t do enough to address the national backlash to data centers, which opponents have argued is necessary.
As we’ve explained, the bill already would create the toughest measure against data centers ever enacted – a ratepayer protection program that would let states and utilities require data centers to pay full freight for system upgrades. And now the bill would additionally create a new federal Data Center Community Assistance Program within the Energy Department whereby local communities could request assistance from agencies to get information and technical expertise on how data centers work and what impacts specific projects could have on their areas. The language mirrors legislation introduced last month by Sens. John Curtis of Utah and Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware.
Such a program could be a big deal. But it’s important to emphasize that the text leaves a lot of details to be worked out. It does not say how this program would be set up within the Energy Department and the provision does not explicitly lay out funding authorization language.
The amendment also closes a loophole that might have allowed data centers with behind-the-meter natural gas power plants to profit by selling excess power to the grid. The original bill contained a provision meant to force grids to allow more residential batteries or the creation of virtual power plants. But that provision, as written, could have applied to behind-the-meter gas plants at data centers. The new text clarifies that the requirement only applies to resources below 5 megawatts, which is smaller than a data center power source.
It remains to be seen whether these changes and the myriad other tweaks to the bill’s project certainty and historic preservation titles will win over lawmakers previously hesitant to vote yes.
The Wilderness Society, whose president is Tracy Stone-Manning, Biden’s former director of the Bureau of Land Management, released a statement shortly after the new bill text was released reaffirming its opposition. “Americans deserve permitting reform that isn’t crafted behind closed doors and rushed to the Senate floor,” Manning said in a statement. Meanwhile, House Natural Resources Jared Huffman provided comments to Punchbowl News reacting to the text that said some of the changes to the permit certainty provision represented an “improvement” but “we could improve it further in this and other areas with a hearing and a more open negotiation process with more Democrats in the room.”
It’s unclear these voices would ultimately ever support this bill. “Manager’s [amendment] does a good job of accounting for the stated concerns of anybody looking to get to yes,” Liam Donovan, a veteran GOP political strategist, wrote on the social network X.
The Senate is scheduled to vote Monday on a motion invoking cloture – ending debate – on the permitting bill, per the Senate cloakroom. The motion will require at least 60 votes to pass. Senators are probably hoping for far more than 61 votes though, because as we’ve explained, House legislative rules may require overwhelming bipartisan support to get the measure to the president’s desk.