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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.
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With a permitting deal seemingly on the horizon, Republican Gabe Evans and Democrat Scott Peters may be about to see their partnership pay off.
The fate of permitting reform legislation that could smooth the way to all kinds of new and improved energy infrastructure — including transmission lines and renewables — is currently hostage to opaque discussions between Senate committee chairs. Rhode Island Senator Sheldon Whitehouse, the Democratic ranking member of the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee, told a Rhode Island business group earlier this week that “we’re actually in a pretty good place on permitting reform,” and that there was “maybe another week of negotiations.” Whitehouse’s Republican counterpart on the EPW committee, West Virginia Senator Shelly Moore-Capito, told Semafor on Friday that any bill has “got to pop out of here in the next 48 hours.”
If that’s going to happen, it will be because Republicans and Democrats have decided it’s worth it to get along. Any deal will eventually have to be voted on by the House, which has already produced several bills on a bipartisan basis, and even passed one — the SPEED Act — late last year.
Two of the busier House members on this issue are Scott Peters, a Democratic former environmental lawyer from San Diego, and Gabe Evans, a first term Colorado Republican representing a suburban and rural district north of Denver that includes wind farms and crude oil production. “The district that I represent truly is an all of the above energy district,” Evans told me.
Their latest effort is a bill aimed at smoothing out permitting for transmission development, especially interregional transmission. Last week, the two congressmen unveiled the CLEAR Act, seeking to apply a stricter set of standards for lawsuits against transmission projects that aligned with how natural gas and hydropower projects are treated under the Federal Power Act (it’s much harder to sue to stop these projects). Earlier this year, the two also sponsored the CERTAIN Act, a more comprehensive streamlining of federal permitting for energy infrastructure projects.
“We’re proud to have a lot of our work as the foundation for this, and I think if they send us over something that includes this, it’s got a really good chance of passing in the House,” Peters told me. Evans added that bringing forward bipartisan bills “gives a little bit more impetus to the Senate to know that the House is looking for these things.”
While the Senate’s deal will be up to the senators, Peters told me he envisions a broad permitting package that could include reforms to the National Environmental Policy Act to shorten permitting timelines, preventing the president from nixing individual projects, and reform Section 401 of the Clean Water Act which effectively devolves power to tribes and states to block a variety of interstate projects. “I think it’s coming together pretty well,” Peters said. “Obviously, we’re waiting for white smoke from the Senate.”
A permitting reform package may be one of the last major bills several bipartisan-minded House members get to vote on.
Election day is about six weeks off, and while Peters will likely have an easy time getting reelected for this eighth term, Evans is in a tough race. His purple-hued district is a target for the House Democratic campaign arm, which is hoping to flip it to former Colorado House of Representatives member Manny Rutinel, who worked as a lawyer at the environmental group Earthjustice. The Cook Political Report rates the race as toss-up, and Nate Silver gives Rutinel a roughly 75% to win.
But Rutinel won’t be getting any campaign help from Peters.
When I asked Peters about the timing of releasing a bill that could boost an endangered Republican’s bipartisan bona fides less than two months before an election, Peters told me that he and Evans had been working on it “for a while,” and that “my colleagues know that I’ve worked with Republicans to get problems solved.”
He said he wasn’t “participating in Gabe’s election” and wasn’t giving any money to his campaign, but also that he wouldn’t campaign Evans’ challenger, despite the opportunity to bolster his own caucus.
Peters is not shy about praising Evans. “What I appreciate about Gabe is that it takes a little bit of initiative to separate yourself from the majority — particularly when you’re in the trifecta — and do your own thing. He’s been a good partner in helping find ways to reduce process and make things go faster,” he told me.
Evans told me that he and Peters met early in this Congress, as Evans was getting settled into his new office in the Longworth building. “We’ve built the relationship over the last two years with a lot of the different areas that we’ve collaborated on.”
“I always try to meet the members of my committee and find out who will work with me. And I was fortunate to find Gabe,” Peters said.
“I do want to win the majority in the next Congress,” Peters went on, but “the norm should be that we figure out ways to work together to solve problems, and, you know, we’ll let the voters of Colorado 8 decide who to send me.”
Evans, for his part, told me that he had to work with Democrats to get anything passed as a member of a minuscule Republican minority in the Colorado statehouse, and that the 40-plus members of the bipartisan Problem Solvers Caucus have agreed not to campaign against each other. “There’s 385 other members that you can go pick fights with,” he said.
A new analysis by a one-time atomic energy opponent makes a bull case for big reactors.
If you know anything about the cost of nuclear energy in America, you probably are aware that the most recent reactors built — the only two new ones designed, planned, and constructed since the 1990s — were budget busters. Units 3 and 4 of Southern Company’s Alvin W. Vogtle Generating Station in eastern Georgia were the first of a new generation of reactor technology ever to be deployed in the U.S. Construction delays, changes to the design, and corporate bankruptcies ultimately sent the price of the pair of Westinghouse AP1000s — the Ford Mustang of American nuclear technology, with safety features that essentially make them not just powerful but also meltdown-proof — to nearly $40 billion, or about $16,350 per kilowatt.
But the U.S. once built reactors for half that — and it did so in the chaotic aftermath of the nation’s worst civilian nuclear accident, when mounting regulations made atomic power construction more onerous than ever before.
That’s the landmark finding of a new report by a veteran nuclear researcher, who quantified and broke down the cost of constructing nearly every civilian atomic power station the U.S. built in the 20th century. Adjusting the dollar figures using the Handy-Whitman Index, a specialized formula for calculating inflation in the utility sector’s construction costs, the analysis — shared exclusively with Heatmap — concluded that 47 reactors built in the U.S. between the 1979 partial meltdown at Pennsylvania’s Three Mile Island nuclear plant and the turn of the millennium came in at an average of $8,200 per kilowatt.
“Costs are only going to come down from that,” Charles Komanoff, the economist and energy policy analyst whose consultancy conducted the study on behalf of the Clean Air Task Force, told me.
The paper carves out a pathway down the cost curve that runs counter to the industry’s broader consensus at the moment on the best way to make nuclear less of a luxury choice compared to other generating sources. Billions of dollars have flooded into companies promising to commercialize small modular reactors that generate 300 megawatts or less. The concept is a bet on what Komanoff calls the economies of duplication, meaning that if customers need more individual reactors, developers can ride that repetition to lower prices. But the paper suggests that the way developers have historically reduced nuclear costs — through economies of scale — achieves the same per-kilowatt savings with one gigawatt-sized, water-cooled reactor as 20 smaller reactors would net.
Some small and microreactor developers say that using alternative coolants — molten salt, liquid sodium, high-temperature gases such as helium — could further raise the efficiency of their technologies, allowing them to make up for whatever they lose on economies of scale. But large, traditional reactors such as the AP1000 are “a proven technology” that, unlike next-generation reactors with far less operating experience, won’t have to overcome “teething problems” to reach maximum efficiency levels, Komanoff told me.
There are other options to the AP1000, such as the ABWR that the parent companies of GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy built in Japan and Taiwan in the 1990s. One was planned for Texas, but abandoned a decade ago amid declining interest in nuclear power post-Fukushima. The technology is approved by the NRC, but GE-Hitachi has since turned its attention to its 300-megawatt BWRX-300. Given that no ABWR was built in the U.S., James Boucher, the former Deloitte nuclear consultant who co-authored the paper, said the AP1000 is the reactor best positioned to replicate the country’s successful buildout of the 1980s.
“We have two AP1000s. They're fully built. They’re operating. They’re doing, as far as I can tell, quite well. And they are like these reactors in our sample,” Boucher told me. “If we wanted to build 20, 30, 50 more AP1000s, I think we’d have a good shot.”
The Nuclear Company, a startup developer that hired much of the team behind the Vogtle buildout in a bid to become the go-to project manager for future AP1000s, called Komanoff’s report “promising because it demonstrates how cost can come down when we don’t focus on building first-of-a-kind projects.”
“There was a 30% overnight capital cost reduction just moving from Unit 3 to Unit 4 on the Vogtle project — there is no reason we can’t continue down the learning curve on the next AP1000s built in this country,” Joe Klecha, The Nuclear Company’s chief nuclear officer and president, told me after reviewing the report I sent him. “Especially with our mix of experience building these reactors and advancements in technology we’re leveraging to scale, achieving below $10,000 per kilowatt is just the beginning for us. We believe we can execute safer, faster, and at lower cost than we’ve achieved in the past.”
Back in the 1980s, the military-like regimentation common at nuclear plants and construction sites wasn’t yet as ingrained in the industry. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission had replaced the Atomic Energy Commission, which was seen as too deferential to the companies it oversaw, and spent the decade tightening rules on constructing and operating nuclear plants. New accident scenarios were being discovered, requiring new plants and existing ones up for relicensing to change operating protocols, upgrade equipment, and conduct additional research.
Komanoff was among those pushing for the changes. In reports he authored on behalf of Greenpeace, an arch opponent of nuclear power, he dissected the fiscal woes atomic energy developers faced, making the economic case for shutting down electrical stations that his fellow activists battled on ecological or moral grounds. Eventually, Komanoff moved on to advocating for a carbon tax as the fairest and clearest way to guide the economy away from fossil fuels and toward decarbonization. While serving as director of the Carbon Tax Center, which he co-founded, he noticed a trend among nuclear plants: They were getting better at operating.
The regulatory changes that followed Three Mile Island succeeded in raising the operating efficiencies of nuclear plants. In the 1970s, reactors had a capacity factor — a measure of how frequently a generating source actually produces electricity — of about 50%. Yet by 1991, that number had risen to 70%, putting atomic energy on par with the most efficient fossil fuel and hydroelectric plants. In 2002, that national average hit 90%. In 2019, it rose to 94%. When the final reactor at Indian Point, the nuclear station that served Komanoff’s native New York City, closed in 2021 due to political opposition to its relicensing, it had just set a world record for an uninterrupted 753-day run of electricity production.
Gradually, Komanoff came to see nuclear power as a vital tool for decarbonization. But, ensconced in the climate movement through his carbon tax advocacy, he found it easier to stay mum on his conversion, lest he ruffle the feathers of fellow activists who remained stalwart anti-nuclearists. After all, he thought, if a carbon tax passes, nuclear plants will benefit, so why bother speaking up specifically for atomic energy? Indian Point’s early shutdown, however, caused Komanoff pangs of regret.
“It just forced me to confront the consequences of not advocating for nuclear power,” he said. “I felt the way I imagined I would feel if a climbing partner — I used to be a sort of mountaineer — had died because of some negligence on my part. I really took personal responsibility because I imagined that — and maybe I’m just in a complete fantasy about my shamanistic power — as someone who had argued 40 years ago for shutting Indian Point, that if I had gone public say ‘Don’t do it,’ that I might have been able to begin turning the tide.”
While $8,200 per kilowatt is half of what Vogtle cost, it’s still nearly four times the cost of building a new natural gas-burning power plant with combined-cycle turbines, which itself rose to $2,157 per kilowatt last year from less than $1,500 in 2023. But the “regulatory churn” that kept the price of nuclear high, Komanoff said, is unlikely to return for new nuclear plants using proven designs such as the AP1000.
“Part of my optimism about nuclear being less subject to regulatory churn going forward is because it’s not a whipping boy,” he said. “It’s really hard to overstate the aura of incompetence that surrounded the nuclear power sector in the United States in the ‘70s into the ‘80s. But when you’ve got plants that are averaging 90% or higher capacity factors, things change.”
Current conditions: Oman’s Ayn Athum Waterfalls burst to life this week as rain battered the Gulf nation’s southwestern Dhofar governorate • Severe monsoon flooding has deluged parts of the American Southwest, including Navajo Nation, where at least three people have died • Tropical Storm Dujuan is barreling toward Japan, where it threatens flooding and landslides in Tokyo and Chiba.
When the Houthis stormed Yemen’s Red Sea coast last week, the Iran-backed rebels gained new ground from which to attack boats passing through the vital shipping lane, extending Tehran’s reach from the Persian Gulf’s hotly contested Strait of Hormuz to the waterway on the opposite side of the Arabian peninsula. In response, oil prices surged. But the price per barrel of crude is slipping again as the United States has rebuked Saudi Arabia’s requests for help routing the militants, instead seeking a deal that keeps the Bab al-Mandab Strait open to American and Israeli ships. Over the weekend, U.S. diplomats met with Houthi officials in neutral Oman, Reuters reported. Following the talks, the Times of Israel reported that Houthis promised not to attack any Israeli or commercial ships of any kind, only those linked to Saudi Arabia, which has funded the Yemeni government’s campaign against the rebels.
Satellite images published by the investigative site Hunterbrook showed workers building a bypass on Saudi Arabia’s East-West Pipeline, its main conduit for circumventing oil exports around the Strait of Hormuz, to get around the pumping station damaged by a Houthi attack. But the promise of free movement through the Red Sea sent the price of oil down by between 1% and 4% on Thursday.
Just yesterday, I told you that the Trump administration had moved to drastically change how the government interprets the Endangered Species Act to only consider deaths of protected animals illegal if the creatures were intentionally targeted. Such a shift would exclude the vast majority of deaths linked to energy companies, such as when birds land in toxic oil ponds or collide with wind turbines. Whether federal enforcement ultimately reflects that interpretation depends on the outcome of a forthcoming lawsuit. Already, Earthjustice has vowed to file litigation challenging the Trump administration’s legal memo directing federal agencies on its new view of the nation’s bedrock conservation law. “The government’s new legal position is a prescription for extinction. It says that as long as you claim you didn’t mean to kill an endangered species, the law can’t and won’t stop you,” Earthjustice attorney Ben Levitan said in a press release. “That’s ridiculous — and a totally illegal, active misreading of the Endangered Species Act. We’ll see the Trump administration in court about this.”
The toll wind turbines take on migratory birds is a favorite talking point of the energy source’s opponents. But relief from the responsibility to avoid killing birds would be cold comfort to the wind industry as developers wait for the Trump administration to follow a court ruling requiring it to continue processing applications for turbines. As my colleague Jael Holzman wrote yesterday, the administration has continued delaying. At least one other legal fight within the offshore wind industry has, meanwhile, come to a conclusion. Vineyard Wind and its turbine supplier GE Vernova, announced an “amicable settlement” this week that resolves “all outstanding litigation,” the New Bedford Light reported. The developer sued the supplier in April, accusing GE Vernova of an $800 million breach of contract following a blade failure in 2024.

The U.S. needs more long-term energy storage, and few technologies are better tested by time than using excess electricity to pump water into a reservoir, where it can be released downhill and run through turbines to generate huge bursts of power when it’s needed. Back when the U.S. had lots of nuclear power, pumped hydro plants harvested the unused electrons during the night. With solar now producing more electricity during the day in some parts of the country than the grid demands, pumped hydro is seeing a potential renewal. But the U.S. hasn’t built any pumped hydro facilities since the 1990s. A project that looked likely to break that dry spell is now on pause as the Trump administration heeds opponents’ concerns and orders a new study on its environmental impact.
The Federal Energy Regulatory Commission has delayed its decision on whether to license the $3 billion project to add a pumped hydro facility to the Seminoe Reservoir, a lightning bolt-shaped waterway in southern Wyoming. The Bureau of Land Management said it will conduct a supplemental environmental impact statement and open the door to more public comments and input from local officials. “This feels like a small victory,” CiCi Oliver, a fly-fishing shop owner who opposed the project over its potential disruptions to the ecology of the reservoir, told WyoFile this week.
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At the start of the Iran War, some interpreters of President Donald Trump’s supposed four-dimensional geopolitical chess moves suggested that shutting down the Strait of Hormuz was an intentional move to show China’s vulnerable underbelly: Beijing’s dependence on oil imports. And yet, China’s vast oil stockpiles and refining capacity, plus its array of alternative energy sources, allowed the country to slash oil purchases by 23% in the first six months of the war compared to the same period last year, according to a New York Times analysis of customs data. “This is a power that nobody thought China had,” said Erica Downs, a senior research scholar at Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy. “Going forward, it’s going to be really interesting to see: What does China do with this newfound power?” The heaviest answer to that question now weighing on Western officials involves China considering the ramifications of a potential invasion of Taiwan to be less worrying than before.
That’s especially true because Taiwan, by contrast, is more vulnerable to losing access to oil and gas imports than ever before. After completing its decades-long mission last year to shut down the nuclear fleet that powered the island’s 20th century transformation into the world’s premiere chipmaker, Taiwan’s ruling Democratic Progressive Party — which advocates for the republic’s continued de facto independence — left the nation dependent on imported liquified natural gas and crude for the vast majority of its energy. Now, according to Nikkei, the government is hastening its efforts to potentially bring at least one nuclear station back online.
Yet another state is considering a moratorium on data centers — one close to the epicenter of the artificial intelligence boom. Maryland, which shares a grid and a border with northern Virginia’s data center megacluster, could see a ban come into effect as early as next year if state legislators pass a bill in the next session. Governor Wes Moore, a Democrat, said he “will absolutely sign” a statewide ban “if it’s coming from local legislators.” Speaking to Punchbowl News, he suggested that any moratorium would come with loopholes for projects that meet high standards. “I believe local jurisdictions should have a say. There are certain local jurisdictions who want it,” he said. “I just need them to understand I have very strict guidelines for what is actually going to get state approval.”
A startup founded by members of the team of U.S. government scientists that first achieved net-energy gain from a fusion reaction has hit a new milestone that should raise the eyebrows of even skeptics of the so-called holy grail of clean power. Less than two months after publicizing its roadmap to commercial fusion, Inertia Enterprises ran a simulation demonstrating that its first commercial plant will be capable of producing 25 times more energy than the laser needed to trigger the reaction, the company told my colleague Katie Brigham in an exclusive.