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Biden’s “energy communities” aren’t where you think they are.

It takes about 45 minutes to circumnavigate Odessa, Texas. There’s a highway — 338, known locally as “The Loop” — that encircles the city of 113,000 people in West Texas. Drive along it and you’ll be treated to a nearly unending parade of oil derricks jabbing their way into the underlying Permian Basin, just as they have for roughly the past century. You’d be forgiven for calling Odessa an “energy community.”
You’d also be wrong, according to the Federal Government. On June 7, the Department of the Treasury published an updated list of energy communities. Included in that list were San Francisco, Barnstable County (which covers all of Cape Cod), and, in total, about 50% of the land area of the United States. Conspicuously absent were famously oily localities such as Odessa, Midland, and Oklahoma City.
So how did San Francisco — where sea lions outnumber oil wells — become an energy community instead of Odessa?
To understand the new guidance, it’s worth exploring why the federal government is concerned about energy communities in the first place. Scattered across the U.S. are hundreds of towns that depend on coal, oil, and gas production for their livelihoods. Towns like these — often located next to coal mines or on top of oil reserves — stand to lose vital jobs and tax revenues should the country transition from fossil fuels to clean energy. In the eyes of lawmakers, this presents an unacceptable risk to both local economies and to any hope of durable support for climate action.
The Inflation Reduction Act sought to remedy that by making any clean energy project located in one of these communities eligible for a 10% tax credit, on top of whatever other tax credits it was already collecting. This bonus, it was hoped, could allow clean energy to replace some of the economic activity lost to the eventual decline of fossil fuels.
What followed, however, is a case study in the importance of defining terms.
The IRA defined an energy community as any one of the following:
It’s this third category where things get sticky. Treasury was charged with interpreting these rules, and by its methodology, fossil fuel employment in the United States represents 0.41% of the workforce, or more than double the level specified in the IRA. That means that a city could have a fossil fuel workforce far smaller, proportionally, than the national average and still qualify as an energy community.
But the issues don’t stop there, according to Daniel Raimi. Raimi directs the Equity in the Energy Transition Initiative at Resources for the Future, a DC-based think tank. He’s been warning about the flaws in the energy communities framework since 2022. He told me there are two main problems with how the government defines an energy community.
First, MSAs and NMSAs are a crude tool for capturing geographic variation. In some parts of the country, their boundaries roughly track city limits. But in other parts — Alaska, for example — they can be the size of Germany. That means that two towns 700 miles apart with little in common economically could nevertheless count themselves as part of the same basic geographic unit.
Second, hitching the definition of an energy community to the national unemployment rate exposes it to wild fluctuations. Areas where the local unemployment is close to the national rate could gain and lose their status as an energy community from year to year, depending on which side of the threshold they find themselves. Moreover, said Raimi, “Since so many places exceed 0.17% fossil fuel employment, a relatively small change in national unemployment has a big effect on the map.”
That dynamic was on display this year. As national unemployment fell by 0.01% in 2023 compared to 2022, large swaths of the country — such as western Wyoming and eastern Mississippi — lost their status, while other regions — such as northern Idaho and northern Arkansas — suddenly qualified. On net, an area the size of New Mexico got added to the map of energy communities this year. Meanwhile, much of the nation’s oil country — including Texas and Oklahoma’s Permian Basin, Colorado’s Denver-Julesburg Basin, and large part of North Dakota’s Bakken Formation — was excluded.
I spoke with a Treasury official, who agreed to speak only on background and acknowledged Raimi’s concerns but stressed that the Department was merely executing the letter of the law. Given the specificity of the statute, they pointed out, there was little Treasury could do to more accurately target the benefits. The Department did issue a rule last year clarifying that any clean energy project that qualified for the tax credit when it began construction would retain that tax credit even if the location subsequently lost its status as an energy community, insulating it from year-to-year changes.
Still, Raimi worries that the current approach will prevent government support from reaching the communities that need it most. “Because they’re not carefully targeted, they are unlikely to receive lots of new investment from this tax credit,” Raimi told me.
And it could get expensive. With roughly half of the country qualifying for the bonus, said Raimi, “I think we’re going to be spending tens of billions of dollars in places where we don’t need to spend that money.” (The Treasury official downplayed concerns over the program’s costliness.)
What would a more precise approach look like? For starters, abandon the MSAs and NMSAs. “County level makes a lot of sense,” Raimi said. “Everybody knows what a county is, and developers and government officials can easily understand whether or not they’re going to be eligible for the credit.”
Beyond that, Raimi wishes public policy would focus more on future impacts. “We know that to get to a net-zero emissions future, we need to use less of all the fossil fuels,” he said. “The places that heavily rely on them — like the Bakken, like the Permian, like parts of Oklahoma — they’re going to need a long time to build new economic sectors. Now is the time to start trying to do that.”
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Strip away the restaurant and the hype, and Tesla Diner is an 80-plug fast-charging station plunked right in the middle of a former charging dessert.
They were projecting Spaceballs onto the wall the first time I pulled into the Tesla Diner. To kill time while my car charged outside, I stepped into the retrofuturist Los Angeles luncheonette and spent six dollars on an oversized chocolate chip cookie. It came in a “Cyberbox,” a cardboard container meant to mimic the shape of the Cybertruck. My wife got a good laugh out of this burger box of Elon’s dreams. Now the carton sits on the kitchen counter, concealing toddler ephemera.
One taste of the Tesla Diner was plenty. But I have returned there, and it wasn’t for the wagyu beef. It’s because a strategically located mega-station is exactly what the world needs more of.
It’d be easy to argue the diner, like the Cybertruck, has been a flop. Musk’s direct involvement with the Trump administration — and the diner’s aesthetic mirroring of his particular id, right down to the movie selections and the Optimus robots handing out popcorn — made the place a target for derision and ongoing protest since its debut a year ago. The restaurant has been a bit of a disaster, too.
Yet Tesla Diner was the most successful Supercharging station in the world in the past year, delivering nearly 1,600 charging sessions per day. And though plenty of people stopped by just to post the notorious joint on social media, its achievement may have less to do with food, Instagram, or politics, and more to do with putting a bunch of plugs where the people are. The times I’ve stopped by, after all, I didn’t need an overpriced carton of fried pickles. I just needed electricity, immediately.
Strip away the restaurant and the hype, and Tesla Diner is an 80-plug fast-charging station plunked right in the middle of Hollywood. This had been a charging desert, a giant hole in the map of red dots around Greater L.A. Besides creating a bizarre new tourist attraction on Santa Monica Boulevard, the diner gave an enormous population of drivers a place to charge a Tesla — or just about any other new EV, now that most brands have moved to the NACS charging standard.
It’s an interesting case study in where, and what, charging stations should be as the nation continues to build out its various networks. Fast-charging stations tend to be built in particular kinds of places. Large outdoor malls and garages are overrepresented on charging maps because they offer plenty of parking spaces to lease and plenty of room to put in electrical infrastructure. Urban areas that don’t have those places, and instead have smaller strip malls and reasonably sized parking lots, are comparatively harder to wire up. That helps to explain the L.A. situation. This is perhaps America’s biggest electric car market, with a plethora of fast-charging stations on the affluent West side and outlying communities. Yet a huge swath of the city (all the way from the 405 to the 5) had practically nothing from Tesla for years, up until Musk decided to buy a parcel of land to build an edgelord’s drive-in.
Now that lots of charging stations exist along major highways to allow for long-distance travel, the next frontier of charging depots is the heart of the city, a place that’s been easy to overlook so far. Most of the drivers who’ve been affluent enough to become EV early adopters could charge at home and didn’t need urban fast-chargers to get around the city. But such charging depots could unlock new segments of American drivers, especially as EV prices begin to come down.
Consider, for example, that a few of the bluest counties in the country accounted for a disproportionate share of EV sales during the early part of the EV era, an unsurprising finding given the charged politics around electric cars. But those areas are not yet saturated. Many more residents would likely be interested in electrifying if they could afford the up-front cost of an EV and felt confident they could charge it — but may not have the option or the budget to install home charging infrastructure. That group needs lots of plugs close to where they live. If there’s a dearth of existing locations in which to install those chargers, then the solution may be to mimic what Musk has done with the diner: build a giant charging depot from scratch and give the people… something to do.
These issues are especially salient as stations scale up. Most urban and suburban depots to date have reached a maximum of around 20 plugs. Colossal depots with dozens of plugs had been limited to those on busy highway routes like L.A. to Las Vegas or San Francisco — at least until the diner popped up.
No, charging stations aren’t gas stations. We’re not headed toward a future with fast-charging plugs on every corner, in part because the ability to charge at home and at work negates the need for everyone to rely on public refueling. But until every house and apartment building has available plugs, we need a few more silly diners to remind people there’s plenty of juice out there.
On Yucca Mountain, Europe’s inverter boom, and Romanian offshore wind
Current conditions: The wildfires in Spain and France are burning so hot they’re creating rare pyrocumulonimbus clouds • Hurricane Genevieve has strengthened into the first Category 5 storm of 2026 as the monster cyclone rampages across the open Pacific with no immediate destination to make landfall • A tornado in Wisconsin toppled power lines, cutting off electricity to nearly 350,000 people.

The back-to-back record heat waves that roasted Western Europe last month killed thousands in France and Germany. The heat also dried out forests, turning woodlands on opposite sides of the Pyrenees into tinderboxes that are now ablaze in some of the worst wildfires the European Union has faced in modern history. With another heat wave now looming, firefighters are racing to contain the flames as hundreds of thousands evacuate in France and Spain. “We need to realize that we’re facing a totally unprecedented fire,” President Emmanuel Macron of France told reporters Monday during a visit to the fire department of Bordeaux. “The situation we’re facing today is the hardest we’ve ever recorded, the hardest since World War II.” In Spain’s Valencia region, the flames are detonating buried ordinances leftover from the Spanish Civil War in the early 1930s, Reuters reported.
The other week, I told you when PJM Interconnection once again hit its price cap at its latest capacity auction — and still came up short of the generation needed to meet demand in 2028. On Monday, the board of the nation’s largest grid operator said in a public letter it would hold another emergency auction to find nearly 7 gigawatts of power generation to make up for the shortfall. “The board believes this reliability threat requires decisive action,” the letter stated. The move comes just weeks after PJM shattered its peak demand record after underestimating just how much electricity the grid could need during a recent heat wave in the American Northeast. It’s yet another sign of the mounting stress on the system covering 13 states as everyone from governors to the grid operator itself strive for reforms, as my colleague Matthew Zeitlin has written.
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Nuclear waste is a political paradox. Critics of atomic energy say that the radioactive waste produced during fission cancel out the benefits of using the most efficient source of carbon-free power humanity has yet harnessed. In the 1980s, the federal government took control of nuclear waste and set about building the world’s first permanent repository to store spent fuel underground for centuries. Yucca Mountain in Nevada was designated as the debut location for such a facility. Opponents in the Silver State fought back, imagining that Washington was subjecting Nevada to dangers akin to the atomic bomb tests that once took place in its deserts. In 2010 — in a move that nonpartisan Government Accountability Office later pegged as an entirely political, rather than technical, motive — President Barack Obama halted work on a project the then-Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid wanted kiboshed. The problem is that federal law dictates Yucca Mountain be completed as the first nuclear waste repository before other sites can be considered. No one in Congress has stepped up to make the change. As a result, the U.S. — operator of the world’s largest nuclear fleet and wannabe exporter to countries who want to get into the atomic energy game — has had no clear long-term plan for dealing with nuclear waste in 16 years.
The Trump administration is trying to change that. The Department of Energy has floated plans for nuclear innovation campuses where cutting-edge recycling companies could test out new technologies to reprocess waste into medical isotopes and fresh fuel. But E&E News reported Monday that the administration is poised to press Congress to update federal law to allow the U.S. to finally move on from Yucca Mountain. A leaked document the newswire obtained outlines the administration’s plans to instead press states to take on waste repositories and recycling facilities, in line with the Energy Department’s campus idea. That may not be easy. Even Texas, whose government has sought to roll out the red carpet for nuclear developers recently unsuccessfully sued federal regulators to the Supreme Court to block construction of a waste storage facility.
Last month, the Supreme Court ruled 6-3 in favor of President Donald Trump’s right to fire commissioners from previously independent agencies such as the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, which oversees pipelines and the grid. On Monday, E&E News published a feature examining the implications for FERC at a particularly sensitive time in its history, when a once-sleepy agency is increasingly facing scrutiny over the health of the U.S. grid. Experts were mixed on the effects. Ari Peskoe, the director of the Electricity Law Initiative at Harvard University, called Trump “a loose cannon” with “no justification for firing any FERC Commissioner.” Commissioner David LaCerte, a Republican, cheered the Supreme Court for overturning what he said was an unlawful restriction put in place a century ago that limited the White House’s ability to fire any commissioners for anything beyond poor performance. “If a commissioner is going to buckle under that pressure and compromise their integrity because they are afraid of being fired, well, they probably didn’t deserve to be in this job in the first place,” he said during the FERC meeting. But fellow Republican Mark Christie, who previously served as FERC chair and whom Matthew dubbed “the most interesting man” on the commission, said that while he agrees with the court’s decision, open requisitions remain as to what it would mean in practice. “If FERC is now completely under the supervision of the president, is the executive branch going to say how to decide a rate case?” said Christie. “That to me is the single biggest question.”
The Department of Transportation, meanwhile, is gutting funding for public transit, walkways, and bike lanes. In a letter outlining the agency’s spending priorities to the Senate, Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy proposed eliminating the Highway Trust Fund’s mass transit account and slashing funding for infrastructure that provides for the safety of pedestrians and bicyclists, bike lanes, and grants for electric vehicle charging infrastructure. That’s not all: Smart Cities Dive reported that a competitive grant program to fund solutions to traffic safety would scrap options that include public transit improvements and tolling from even being considered.
China produces most of the world’s inverters for solar panels. It’s increasingly a problem. Last year, Reuters reported that the U.S. had found “killswitch” devices in some inverters, suggesting that Beijing could — in theory — remotely disable solar panels when demand is high on the grid, or try to cause frequency problems like those that triggered the great Iberian blackout of 2025. At the start of this month, I told you the Federal Communications Commission was weighing a ban on Chinese inverters. If you share the Trump administration’s concerns, there’s good news: China’s command over the global inverter market peaked in 2024, according to new data from the research division at PV Tech. Europe, meanwhile, has emerged as a major manufacturer, hitting over 100 gigawatts of factory capacity this year. The U.S. is now at 40 gigawatts, while India is at 20 gigawatts. You’d be reasonable to wonder if these are just Chinese companies setting up shop in Europe. But you’d be wrong. “What distinguishes Europe’s inverter manufacturing expansion from other sectors, particularly solar modules, is the composition of its manufacturing base,” analyst Mollie McCorkindale wrote in the magazine. “As of 2026, over 90% of Europe’s 100-gigawatt manufacturing capacity comes from European-headquartered companies.”
Everyone knows the U.S. is veering away from offshore wind, and diligent readers of this newsletter (for whom I feel such affection) may recall that Japan is on a parallel trajectory. Elsewhere, however, offshore wind is booming. Romania, whose coastline makes up a single-digit percentage of its mostly landlocked borders, is the latest country to make big plans for seaward turbines. Bucharest is now targeting nearly 12 gigawatts of offshore wind, Renewables Now reported.
Wildfires in France and Spain — and a dire El Niño forecast — point to another era of public attention on disaster.
Wildfires and the Return of Climate Politics
Enormous wildfires are still burning in France and Spain. “We're facing a completely unprecedented fire,” French President Emmanuel Macron said on Monday, comparing the situation to World War II. The main fire in Gironde, a southwestern department along the Atlantic coast, have consumed more than 100,000 acres and forced roughly 200,000 people to evacuate.
There’s little sign the fires are under control in either country. In France, the blazes created a pyrocumulonimbus cloud — a towering, thundering “fire storm” that sometimes forms in the western United States but is not often observed in western Europe. Some fires have come within several miles of Bordeaux, the country’s sixth-largest metropolitan area and a longtime center of the wine industry. In Spain, enormous wildfires near Madrid, Ávila, and Toledo have killed one and displaced roughly another 79,000 people.
Firefighters are working fast, in part because a heatwave is forecast for the continent later this week. But of course it is hot — it is high summer in the Northern Hemisphere, and we are having a particularly hot year. 2026 now looks likely to be the world’s second-warmest year ever, and it has a better than one-third chance of being the warmest.
In the near term, expect more climate-addled disasters. The Pacific Ocean has slipped into its El Niño phase, which will likely spin off more extreme storms, droughts, heat waves, and wildfires. Recent modeling suggests it could be the most intense El Niño ever measured. Writing for his newsletter “The Climate Brink,” the climate researcher (and Heatmap contributor) Zeke Hausfather recently warned: “It looks like this year’s El Niño is not only very likely to be the strongest event since reliable records began — it may end up the strongest by a truly mind-blowing margin.”
How do we know this next El Niño will be bad? The most intense El Niño on record occurred from late 2015 to 2016, when sea surface temperatures in a benchmark region of the Pacific Ocean were 2.75 degrees Celsius warmer than normal. (That’s nearly 5 degrees Fahrenheit.) Those searing sea temperatures released huge amounts of heat into the atmosphere and eventually made 2016 the warmest year ever recorded. Today, a decade later, 2016 remains the fourth warmest year on record, coming in only under 2024, 2023, and 2025, per NOAA data.
But as Zeke writes, the middle 80% of modeled outcomes for this year’s El Niño are already projected to match or exceed that 2016 anomaly. The median forecast for this year’s event, in other words, would shatter the previous record. “The models are forecasting something outside the envelope of anything we have ever observed,” he writes. The National Weather Service agrees that there is an 81% chance of an event forming “that would rank among the largest El Niño events in the historical record going back to 1950,” and it says odds are better than 97% that the anomaly will stick around through spring 2027.
Scientists and activists once hoped that when global warming’s effects became unignorable, the public would take action. But disasters haven’t produced durable climate concern, and public attention has dissipated with every news cycle — and become ever more pessimistic. There are moments, however, when successive extremes can keep climate change more prominently in the public conversation. The years that followed the last mega-El Niño in 2016 made up one such period. If we are headed for another now, then experts should be ready with ideas not only for slowing and reversing the growth of heat-trapping emissions, but also for adapting our societies and infrastructure for our warming world. It’s clear we are going to need them.
This will be a big week for understanding the U.S. energy economy’s most important trend. A handful of tech companies driving the artificial intelligence boom — namely, Microsoft, Meta and Amazon — will report their quarterly earnings on Wednesday and Thursday. These companies are behind some of the country’s largest AI data center projects and therefore some of its most sizable planned power plants — clean and otherwise.
Last week, when Alphabet boosted its capital expenditure for this year by another $15 billion, the market rebelled and sent its shares tumbling. If investors’ interest in financing mega-scale data center projects is waning, then it could affect the electricity economy for years to come. In any case, we’ll know more soon. Rivian will also report its earnings this week.