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Especially with carbon capture tax incentives on the verge of disappearing, perhaps At One Ventures founder Tom Chi is onto something.

Technology to suck carbon dioxide out of the air — a.k.a. direct air capture — has always had boosters who say it’s necessary to reach net zero, and detractors who view it as an expensive fig leaf for the fossil fuel industry. But when the typical venture capitalist looks at the tech, all they see is dollar signs. Because while the carbon removal market is still in its early stages, if you look decades down the line, a technology that can permanently remove residual emissions in a highly measurable fashion has got to be worth a whole lot, right? Right?
Not so, says Tom Chi, founder of At One Ventures and co-founder of Google’s technological “moonshot factory,” X. Bucking the dominant attitude, he’s long vowed to stay away from DAC altogether. “If you’re trying to collect carbon dioxide in the air, it’s like trying to suck all the carbon dioxide through a tiny soda straw,” Chi told me. Given that the concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere sits at about 0.04%, “2,499 molecules out of 2,500 are not the one you’re trying to get,” Chi said. “These are deep, physical disadvantages to the approach.”
He’s obviously not the first to realize this. DAC companies and their scientists are well aware of the challenges they face. But investors are generally comfortable taking on risk across a host of different technologies and industries on the premise that at least a few of their portfolio companies will hit it big. As such, a nascent market and challenging physics are not inherent reasons to steer clear. DAC’s potential to secure cash-rich oil and gas industry buyers is pure upside.
Most prominent climate tech venture capital firms — including Lowercarbon Capital, Breakthrough Energy Ventures, Prelude Ventures, and Khosla Ventures — have at least one DAC company in their portfolios. At One Ventures itself has backed everything from producing oxygen on the moon (while also decarbonizing steel) to indoor solar cells and thorium-powered nuclear reactors, a hobbyhorse of techno-optimist nuclear bros and former presidential candidate Andrew Yang. So the fact that Chi won’t touch DAC is no small deal.
His hesitation stems from a matter of scale. To capture that 0.04% of atmospheric carbon, many DAC companies use giant fans to pull in large volumes of air from the atmosphere, which then pass through either a solid filter or a liquid solution that chemically captures the carbon dioxide. Although some companies are pursuing alternate approaches that rely on passive air contact rather than energy-intensive fans, either way, the amount of air that reaches any DAC machine’s so-called “collection aperture” is minuscule “relative to the scale of planet Earth,” Chi told me.
He views this as the core pitfall of the technology. “Half of the [operating expense] of the system is just trying to go after a technical disadvantage that you took on from day one,” Chi said. “By comparison, nature based restorations have enormous apertures,” Chi told me. “Think about the aperture of all the forests on the planet. Think about the aperture of all the soils on the planet, all the wetlands on the planet, the ocean.” His preferred methods of carbon removal are all nature-based. “In addition, their sequestration tends to be photosynthesis-powered, which means we’re not burning natural gas or using grid electricity in order to go make that thing work.”
Nature-based solutions often raise eyebrows in the carbon removal and reduction space, though, bringing to mind highly questionable carbon offsets such as those earned via “avoided deforestation.” The inherent counterfactual — would these trees really have been cut down if we didn’t buy these credits? — is difficult to measure with any certainty, and a 2023 investigation by The Guardian found that the majority of these types of credits are essentially bogus.
This same essential question around measurability plagues everything from afforestation and reforestation to soil carbon sequestration, biochar application, and wetland restoration. It’s extremely difficult to measure how much carbon is stored — and for how long — within complex, open ecosystems. On the other hand, engineered solutions such as direct air capture or bioenergy with carbon capture and storage are simple to quantify and promise permanent storage, making them attractive to large corporate buyers and easy to incentivize via mechanisms such as the federal carbon sequestration tax credit.
When I put all this to Chi, his response was simple. “It’s not an advantage to be able to measure something that can’t solve the problem,” he told me. For a moment, it seemed as if we had hit an intellectual dead end. For now, carbon removals and reductions are mainly driven by the voluntary carbon market, where prices are based on the exact tonnage of carbon removed. Reputable buyers don’t want to be burned again by investing in difficult to quantify offsets, and the current administration certainly doesn’t seem likely to step in with nature-based removal mandates or purchasing commitments anytime soon.
Chi’s answer to this conundrum is “financial enclosure,” essentially a fancy way of saying we need to monetize the value of nature-based systems. In many cases, he admitted, we don’t quite yet know how to do that, at least in a way that benefits the common good. “We figured out how to financially enclose a forest, clear cut it in order to go make board feed and paper and pulp,” he explained. But we don’t know how to financially enclose the benefit of preserving said forest, nor many other ecosystems such as wetlands that serve as highly effective carbon sinks.
At One Ventures has backed companies that work with a variety of buyers — from national governments to mining companies and farmers — that have a financial stake in (or are legally required to care about) ecosystem preservation and restoration. “Sometimes people break nature hard enough that it becomes that obvious. And then they have to go fix it,” Chi told me. “We’re going to invest in the companies that make it possible to go do that at incredibly low cost structures.”
One portfolio company, Dendra Systems, uses robots, drones, and other automated methods to do large scale ecosystem restoration, such as replanting mangroves in parts of the world such as Myanmar and Abu Dhabi where they’ve been cleared for property development or industrial use. The governments of both countries are paying Dendra to do this after realizing that removing mangroves had catastrophic consequences —- destroying subsistence fishing, wrecking erosion breaks — that would cost more to ameliorate than simply replanting the trees.
Then there’s Dalan Animal Health, which is developing vaccines for honeybees as hives become more vulnerable to disease. While not directly focused on carbon removal, the company has successfully “financially enclosed” pollination, as industrial farmers whose crops depend on pollinators will pay for the vaccine. This helps restore healthy ecosystems that can ultimately draw down more carbon. Chi told me that insurance companies have also shown a willingness to pay for nature-based solutions that can help lessen the impact of disasters such as floods or hurricanes.
While the carbon benefits of these companies are simply a bonus, the firm has invested in one pure play removal company, Gigablue. This startup releases engineered particles into the ocean that attract carbon-absorbing phytoplankton. As the particles accumulate more plankton, they sink to the ocean floor, where the carbon is then stored. Using onsite sampling and other advanced techniques, Chi told me that this tech is “very measurable” while also having an “aperture [that] is as wide as the ocean area that we’ve sprinkled things onto.”
Though Chi dislikes the illogical nature of the voluntary carbon market — he would much prefer a “polluter pays” system where money is directed towards nature-based sequestration — he knows that with the markets we have, precise measurability is paramount. So At One Ventures is throwing money at this, too. Portfolio company Chloris Geospatial combines satellite data and machine learning to measure biomass from space and track changes over time, helping legitimize forest-based removals. And Miraterra is focused on novel sensing tech and advanced modeling that allows farmers to calculate the amount of carbon in their soil.
But even if the carbon stored in natural ecosystems never becomes quite as measurable as engineered carbon removals, Chi thinks investors, companies, or governments should still be going all in. “When your volume is so much larger, then you can even throw big error bars around your measurability and still be miles ahead,” he told me.
Many investors say they want it all. You’ll see them funding nature-based and engineered carbon removal companies alike in an effort to take a “portfolio approach” to carbon removal. Chi, unsurprisingly, thinks that’s hogwash. “It’s weasel words to be like, it’s an important part of this portfolio,” he told me. The United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change also advocates for a diversified approach, without saying DAC itself is strictly necessary. DAC is “not going to do 1%, and it’s going to be massively more expensive than your other 99%,” Chi said. “At some point you’re going to be like, why is this in the portfolio?”
It’s certainly a more blunt assessment of the industry’s viability (or lack thereof) than I’ve heard any investor hazard before. But there may be more folks starting to come around to Chi’s perspective. With government support for DAC in question and the utility of carbon capture tax credits — which only benefit engineered removals — deeply threatened, venture funding for DAC is down over 60% from this time last year, Bloomberg reported.
Rajesh Swaminathan, a climate tech investor at Khosla Ventures told the publication that while many investors have taken bets on direct air capture, “Now, people are stepping back and saying, ‘Why didn’t I look at the economics there?’” Khosla itself is an investor in the DAC company Spiritus.
So what’s a longterm skeptic like Chi to do in this moment of doubt? As he told me, “I’m just going to keep on giving talks on it, and I know that physics is on my side.”
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Environmental advocates initially opposed SunZia and CHPE, but they love the two transmission projects now.
Over the past few years, I’ve become convinced that the United States will never decarbonize its economy — or renovate its aging electricity sector — without building new, large-scale power lines. There is some good news on that front this month: Two major new transmission projects opened or are about to open, each connecting major cities to abundant sources of zero-carbon electricity.
The first is the Champlain Hudson Power Express, known by its happy-go-lucky initials CHPE and pronounced chippy. It is a 339-mile underground and underwater transmission line, which will ferry 1,250 megawatts of zero-carbon electricity from Quebec’s hydroelectric dams straight into New York City. It officially became operational last week.
The project means that 20% of the city’s electricity demand can now be met by clean electricity. That power will go a long way toward replacing the 2 gigawatts of zero-carbon electricity lost when former Governor Andrew Cuomo shut down the Indian Point Energy Center, a nuclear power plant 24 miles north of the city, following a public campaign led by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
The second is the SunZia Wind and Transmission Project, a roughly 550-mile power line that links a gargantuan new 3.5-gigawatt wind farm in New Mexico to energy-hungry cities in Arizona and California. The project began generating power earlier this spring and is set to fully come online this month.
Now that these two new transmission lines are operating, the response from climate and clean energy advocates has been — I would say — solidly positive.
Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s chief climate officer called CHPE “a huge game changer.” Meanwhile, Nic Fulghum, a senior analyst at the climate data think tank Ember, said SunZia is “a truly astonishing project that will remove huge amounts of gas power from California's electricity generation” last month. “Don’t let this be one of the last remnants of US clean power leadership,” he added. (We had Nic on our podcast, Shift Key, to discuss some unrelated good news about the global energy system earlier this year.)
I recount all this not because I disagree with these descriptions — I don’t — but because it is striking to see them stated so forthrightly now. I remember when these projects were getting built and the yearslong permitting battles to secure their construction. I even covered the 20-year fight over SunZia for Heatmap.
The simple, uncomfortable fact is that neither of these power lines commanded such widespread respect from traditional environmental advocates before they became operational. In many cases, in fact, self-described environmentalists led the fights to block them.
The Sierra Club and its local New York chapters, for instance, fought CHPE for years. The club played up the physical impact on the land that, say, the converter station would have in Astoria, Queens. “It is certain that if [the project’s developers] succeed, several New York businesses and their employees will be harmed,” one missive warned.
Other green groups argued that building the line would outsource clean energy jobs to Canada or focused on the Canadian First Nations that opposed the power project. (Other Canadian indigenous groups supported it.)
Hudson Riverkeeper, an environmental group long associated with RFK Jr., first supported the new power line in 2013 as part of its quest to shut down the Indian Point nuclear plant. But in 2019 — two years after Indian Point’s closure was finalized — Riverkeeper revoked its support for the power line and began fighting it. Had Riverkeeper gotten its wish, it would have effectively locked in years of additional fossil fuel consumption in New York.
What’s most astonishing now is the yearslong scaremongering that accompanied the line’s connection to the Canadian government. CHPE draws its energy from dams owned by Hydro-Québec, a government-owned public utility and the provider of some of the cheapest electricity in North America. Today, left-wing advocates such as the Climate and Community Institute celebrate Hydro-Québec as a renewable-rich, government-owned success story.
But in 2018, the Sierra Club derided the proposed power line as a “private roadway” for Hydro-Québec, which it called “a private corporation heavily subsidized by the Canadian government.” Back then, too, the club questioned whether Quebec’s generating fleet — which some progressives now celebrate as abundant “renewable energy” — was truly low carbon.
This isn’t to say that dams can’t produce unexpected carbon or mercury emissions. They can. But the long-running effort to block this project — as compared to the praise for it now — should remind us how fluidly categories can change when a project is online.
If anything, though, SunZia had an even more frustrating story. Back in 2024, I covered the two-decade saga that saw the power line bounce from one permitting review to another.
In that story, I wrote about how the environmentalist Robin Silver, a founder of the Center for Biological Diversity, battled the project’s route through the San Pedro Valley in southeastern Arizona. When I asked Silver why he opposed the clean energy project — even though a natural gas pipeline already transited the valley — he was blunt: The power line was an eyesore. “There are no 200-foot large power lines going through the San Pedro Valley,” he said. “The gas pipeline doesn’t have 200 foot towers.”
Today, that SunZia line — now complete — will help reduce demand for natural gas. If we want to get serious about meeting America’s energy challenges, especially if we also want to reduce carbon emissions at the same time, then we will need many more projects like CHPE and SunZia. They won’t always be popular. But people will love them when they’re complete.
The latest update to the Electricity Price Hub shows a price increase in line with what regulators predicted.
Hawaii already had the most expensive electricity in the country. Then the war in Iran happened.
America’s 50th state has no domestic fossil fuel industry and no access to the continental United States’ natural gas pipeline network, and is therefore uniquely dependent on imported oil to generate electricity. (The state’s last coal plant shut down in 2022.)
While Hawaii’s electricity prices and household bills have spiked along with oil prices since the United States and Israel attacked Iran in late February, the average electricity bill in Hawaii shot up to $248 in May, compared to an already-high $203 in April, according to the latest data in Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, released Monday. The average price of electricity rose by 6 cents per kilowatt-hour, from 46 cents in April to 52 cents in May. Nationally, average prices stand at around 17.5 cents and are up 3.6% (or just over half a cent) from May of last year, with national average bills of $140 per month up about $6 from a year ago.
Hawaii’s eye-watering prices far outmeasure even the state’s peers in expensive electricity. May bills for California were $137, for instance, while prices were 25 cents per kilowatt-hour. In Massachusetts, where prices have also spiked this spring, they only got to 38 cents per kilowatt-hour. Maine, which has been struggling with high prices thanks to high costs linked to storm recovery, prices in May were 28 cents per kilowatt-hour, up about 10% from a year ago, but down substantially from the 35 cents per kilowatt-hour in February.
The situation in Hawaii was pretty much a foregone conclusion way back in April. Hawaii’s Department of Commerce and Consumer Affairs warned customers that bills from Hawaiian Electric, which serves almost the entire state, would almost certainly go up between 20% and 30% from then through June.
“We told our customers to prepare for potential increases in energy costs in the coming months, driven by rising global oil prices linked to escalating geopolitical tension,” Scott Seu, Hawaiian Electric’s chief executive, said in an April earnings call. “Affordability is a core focus of ours, and affordability pressures have intensified given the recent increase in fuel prices across the globe.”
Some Hawaii ratepayers will have the opportunity to claim a one-time credit on their bills this month as part of an annual rate relief drive by the Hawaii Home Energy Assistance Program. The state program is administered through local nonprofits and provides bill credits for households that claim some form of social assistance, like food stamps or Social Security or disability payments administered through Social Security
The benchmark global oil price was sitting at around $70 per barrel in the weeks leading up to the opening of the U.S.-Israel-Iran war, and is now around $95, down from a high of $118. While Hawaii ratepayers probably won’t feel comforted this is far from the worst-case scenario for runaway oil prices as public and private inventories of oil have largely filled the gaps. If the story of the energy effects of the Iran War in the United States is that some combination of trapped natural gas, inventory releases, and healthy domestic production have made the oil price hike manageable, it may only be in the non-insular United States.
According to analysis of price hub data from our partners at CleanEcon, customers in the Lanai division of Hawaiian Electric’s Maui service area faced an 18 cents per kilowatt-hour rise just from “recovery” for high energy supply prices, a nearly 60% hike, which on its own added $76 to average bills compared to the beginning of this year.
The good news is that due to its famously agreeable climate, Hawaiian households consume little electricity compared to the rest of the country. But with those electricity rates, who can blame them.
All that cash has to go somewhere. Why not philanthropic funding for decarbonization?
Artificial intelligence models — and the infrastructure to support them — have kept the U.S. economy afloat amidst a turbulent year of tariffs, war, and energy price volatility. Nvidia, the dominant supplier of high-end AI chips, is now the world’s most valuable company. Leading AI firm Anthropic has filed to go public, while reporting indicates that OpenAI will soon follow suit. SpaceX, which is betting heavily on orbital data centers, is also going public this month, in what analysts expect will be the largest IPO in history.
All of which is to say that a lot of people have already become very, very rich from the AI boom, with many more poised to do so very soon. That will almost certainly lead to a wave of philanthropic capital in search of worthy causes. AI safety will obviously be a priority. But given growing concerns over AI’s power needs, reliance on fossil fuel infrastructure, water consumption, and effect on electricity prices, it seems likely that climate and clean energy will become top priorities for newly minted AI billionaires, as well.
“It is not lost on the people who are working on AI that there are big environmental impacts associated with data centers,” Lara Pierpoint, managing director of Trellis Climate, told me. Her organization helps philanthropists and foundations invest in first-of-a-kind climate infrastructure projects that wouldn’t move forward without their support. She expects that the “strong outdoor and environmentally-focused culture” of the Bay Area will also hold sway over these emerging philanthropists.
Nan Ransohoff, Stripe’s head of climate, laid out the scale of this coming capital influx in a recent Substack post: “The OpenAI Foundation holds 26% of OpenAI, worth about $220 billion at today’s valuation. Anthropic’s seven co-founders have pledged to give away 80% of their wealth and have instituted the most aggressive donor matching program for employees in tech history,” she writes.
By Ransohoff’s back-of-the-envelope math, accounting for just the OpenAI Foundation and Anthropic’s co-founders and employees with charitable savings accounts translates to about $37 billion to $100 billion per year in additional philanthropic spending, assuming everyone allocates about 10% of their pledged wealth annually. That could add as much as 17% more philanthropic spending per year compared to what all U.S. donors allocate today. Much of that will likely go toward AI-related risk mitigation. But certainly not all of it.
Though Ransohoff never mentions climate change explicitly in the piece, it can’t have been far from her mind. Ransohoff is the head of Frontier, the Stripe-led coalition of carbon removal buyers using advance purchase agreements to catalyze the nascent market. This is exactly the type of technology — critical to the fight against climate change but expensive and largely lacking a natural market to drive scale-up — that could benefit from philanthropic dollars. A range of other climate mitigation and adaptation efforts fall in this same bucket, including satellite-based methane monitoring, wetlands and mangrove restoration, resilience infrastructure in low-income communities, and even controversial geoengineering efforts such as solar radiation management.
The network of players allocating climate-focused philanthropic spending are well aware of these opportunities, apparently, as Ransohoff’s piece drummed up lots of excitement among my sources. “I think we’ve all been circling around the notion that there will be some additional philanthropy that comes into the picture,” Pierpoint told me. Ransohoff, she said, is just the first to put numbers to the potential scale. “It wasn’t clear even a year ago that all these companies were going to be looking to IPO so soon,” Pierpoint explained. (Ransohoff herself didn’t respond to my request for an interview.)
Now that we’re here, Pierpoint and others certainly have thoughts about where they can put this capital to work. Many see substantial room for improvement in the current philanthropic landscape. “The problem is how it’s structured. It’s more around donor appeasement and gatekeeping and less around results,” climate tech investor Susan Su of Toba Capital told me.
Elemental Impact CEO Dawn Lippert has been working to create a better model for the sector since she founded the philanthropically-funded nonprofit investor in 2009. She describes Elemental’s structure as combining “the mission of a nonprofit with the discipline of an investor and operating posture and talent density of a high-growth startup.” Much like Trellis, Elemental seeks to fill climate tech’s “missing middle” funding gap for first-of-a-kind climate infrastructure projects, which are too costly for venture firms but too risky for traditional institutional investors. That involves leveraging philanthropy to build things like a critical minerals recovery facility and a low-emissions fertilizer production plant that wouldn’t otherwise see the light of day.
“Philanthropy alone won’t close the gap, but philanthropy will be the fuel for the experiments,” Lippert told me. “It’s an art, because it’s not about using philanthropy to subsidize investors, it’s about leveraging philanthropy to build things that otherwise would not happen in the world.
Lippert wants to capitalize on this AI moment not only by harnessing billionaires’ money, but also by treating the data center buildout as a climate tech market opportunity — an approach that appears to resonate with its philanthropic backers. Late last month, Elemental launched the Data Center Innovation Initiative alongside funders such as Breakthrough Energy Discovery, Builders Vision Philanthropy, and Salesforce, aiming to test and commercialize clean tech for data centers that also has broader energy and industrial applications. For example, chip-cooling technologies would be out of scope because they’re too data center-specific, Lippert told me. But developing a new industrial coolant would be right on the money.
Elemental will provide between $500,000 and $5 million to 10 startups through 2027, while the initiative’s tech partners — Amazon, Google, Meta, and Microsoft — will support the companies with strategic guidance and real-world trials in their data centers. Although Elemental has not yet selected the initiative’s cohort, it’s looking to back everything from energy storage to novel cooling solutions and low-carbon building materials.
The highly detailed “funding opportunity guide” that Elemental released for prospective applications outlines the initiative’s priority technology areas and technical targets, offering the kind of clarity and specificity that many in climate philanthropy say is needed to help innovators focus on the sector’s most pressing challenges.
Some noteworthy efforts do already exist on this front. One example is climate philanthropist John Doerr’s Speed & Scale tracker which provides entrepreneurs, business leaders, and policymakers with a detailed assessment of global progress toward ten key climate objectives. Then there’s the more granular Climate Tech Map, an associated resource designed by a coalition of leading climate groups to help innovators identify and design for the technical bottlenecks most critical to the energy transition.
Defining the opportunity space so precisely, including explicit metrics for success, is likely to resonate with those from technical backgrounds. Many of these new donors will likely bring a philanthropic ethos shaped at least in part by the effective altruist movement, which has strong ties to the Bay Area tech community, and has long prioritized the potential existential risks posed by advanced AI systems.
But Aliya Haq, president of the policy-focused nonprofit Clean Economy Project (one of Heatmap’s partners on the Electricity Price Hub), noted that this mental model is “hard to square” with the realities of politics and thus policy advocacy overall. “Politics doesn’t follow a technocratic or data-driven reality, it’s far more about human psychology,” she told me. So while she sees room for a more technocratic approach to climate outcomes and the policies that get us there, “there’s a time where you have to be able to read the room and understand cultural shifts, political shifts, communication shifts, to be able to make those policies happen.”
CleanEcon was born from the ashes of Breakthrough Energy’s climate policy arm, which Bill Gates — the organizations’ founder primary backer — disbanded last year. Today, CleanEcon focuses on advancing policies that accelerate clean energy projects, derisk private investment, and drive down the costs of novel tech. Haq views these efforts as the most effective use of philanthropic dollars, even if all the data in the world can never precisely capture the political winds or what approaches will resonate with legislators and the electorate.
But the climate doesn’t get to choose its philanthropists or their ethos. “Whether or not we think a tech-oriented approach to giving is the right path forward, that will be one of the core elements of what this next wave of philanthropy will look like,” Pierpoint told me. Sectoral experts can help mold and shape the ideologies and whims of philanthropists, however, and there will always likely be a portion of funders deeply invested in exerting political influence, precise efficacy metrics be damned.
Many argue the real work now lies in connecting new donors with climate experts, and in turn, working to embed those experts more deeply within philanthropic foundations and grantmaking or investment institutions. Because while some newly minted rich folks will inevitably start by going it alone, pursuing wild bets or pet projects, Su explained that alongside new funders and builders, the sector really needs “very talented translators to be able to channel that desire to make an impact towards organizations that are in need and that are already making an impact.”
What everyone also seems to agree on is that the new philanthropists must be less risk-averse than the old philanthropists. As Pierpoint puts it, risk-taking “should be the role of philanthropy within this ecosystem — to try things that are hard to do under the existing ecosystem that we have.” Lippert similarly sees philanthropy as “fuel for the experiments” in the climate sector. Let’s hope that it proves to be that fuel, because as this new AI wealth begins to flow through the economy, the opportunity space for philanthropic experimentation might be larger than ever in the coming years.
“The magnitude of dollars is huge, it’s so much bigger than it ever was before,” Su told me. “So you can only think, because these people are so new and fresh to this — and they spent their entire lives thinking in a more innovative way — that maybe that’ll be the difference.”