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A Q&A with Villanova’s Stephen M. Strader on the legacy of Hurricane Andrew, unsustainable development, and why building codes alone aren’t enough.

In around 12 hours, Hurricane Milton is set to make landfall within miles of Tampa Bay, a region that is home to more than 5 million people. Once a sleepy retirement community, the area has seen a major development boom in recent years fueled by Millennials and Gen Zers seeking the perks of coastal living; it was the 11th fastest-growing city of its size in the U.S. as of this spring and has been expected to continue to grow at nearly twice the rate of the rest of the country over the next five years. A third of those residents, including many of the newcomers, live in low-lying neighborhoods now under urgent evacuation notices due to the threat of “unsurvivable” storm surge, which could rise up to 15 feet.
The development boom that has made Tampa Bay so desirable is also why it’s particularly vulnerable. In an analysis of Hurricane Ian — the most expensive storm in Florida’s history, which struck just south of Milton’s projected track in 2022 — the re-insurance company Swiss Re found that if the storm had struck in the 1970s, it would have caused a third to a half as much damage. Simply put: You can’t adapt your way out of a hurricane problem.
If there is anyone to talk to about the vulnerabilities unique to Tampa Bay, it’s Stephen M. Strader, an associate professor and hazard geographer at Villanova University. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
You shared an image on Twitter of the explosive growth in the Tampa Bay area between 1940 and 2024. Why does this make the region vulnerable to a storm like Milton? Is it just about there being more people there?
When we think about disasters, we think of the intersection of three components: a violent event, like what we have with Milton; vulnerability, or what types of people could be in the path, which could be related to racial divides, age, and gender norms; and what a lot of my work focuses on, exposure.
Exposure is just the number of people or things that we care about — businesses, schools, and things like that — that are subject to losses if an event occurs. Florida is a great example of rapid urbanization since the 1900s, and it’s rapid development in a very hazard-prone region.
It can be easy for outsiders to sit back and wonder why anyone would buy a house on the water or on a barrier island near Tampa.
There are a lot of factors that come into play when you think about where we develop and why we develop certain locations. One of the biggest pressures that we see is that it’s desirable land: In the short term, people want to live near the water. It’s beautiful! People don’t think necessarily about the risk that comes with it because they’re too focused on their dream, which is to live near the ocean.
The other side of that is, from an economic standpoint, people see it as an opportunity to have businesses and to build condos. Developers see the land and think, “How much could I buy this for and sell it for with homes on it?” This really started back with Carl Fisher, who was famous for building the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. He was a thrill-seeker, but also a businessman and developer, and he loved to go to South Florida — which is now Miami Beach, and then was swamps and mangroves and not developed at all. And he thought, Hmm, this would be a great place for people to visit for vacations and experiences. He slowly started filling in the wetlands with sand. And that’s the history of Florida's development: It continued because this was very valuable land.
There is a lot of socioeconomic pressure to develop in these areas, but we’re also starting to see it change. Those pressures are lessening because you have insurance industries now and events like this year after year.
There is another issue in Southwest Florida, which is that many of the homes were constructed before building codes were updated, right?
I tend to do a lot more work on the manufactured housing side. Before 1974, all manufactured homes were called mobile homes, and there wasn’t really a standard. Then, in 1974, the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development came in and said, “We need to increase the standards,” and they did.
Fast-forward to 1992 and Hurricane Andrew, and they realized these codes were not strong enough. Many people lived in manufactured homes that were destroyed by Andrew, which was a very windy hurricane. We think hurricanes are wind threats because of Andrew, but hurricanes are water threats, and most deaths occur because of that water. Andrew was the opposite.
Between 1992 and 1994, they updated building codes for manufactured housing, and actually, along the coastline, Florida has some of the strongest codes for manufactured homes in the country. A lot of the areas that will be affected by Milton will have those strong standards. But many homes were also grandfathered in if they were built before that time.
That’s just one type of housing. My guess is that when you have a lot of rapid development since the 1990s — well, I have some questions about structural integrity since building codes can be strong but they might not be followed. And we sometimes don’t know until afterwards. A lot of what is being built are condos or McMansions — it’s basically, How fast can you build them, how cheap can you build them, and how high can you sell them? And they look great until their performance is put into question.
Insurance companies are starting to see this and ask, “How do we retrofit structures?” Structure-wise, though, I think Tampa is in a decent spot. The problem is, the water is so powerful that it’s not going to matter.
What kinds of conversations do you think Floridians should be having about development or potential redevelopment after Milton?
I’m a huge proponent of resisting the urge to build right back — the reason being that’s how you get repetitive losses. The hard part is, with a lot of insurance, if you have it, you only get provisions to build back the way you were. You don’t have the ability to improve. So what I end up telling people is, sometimes these disasters provide an opportunity to assess what we need to do from a planning standpoint. This is unsustainable development, and not just because of hurricanes, but because of rising sea levels and the stress on the environment. And unfortunately, a lot of these developments were built on top of wetlands and marshes and mangroves that used to protect the island areas as natural barriers.
The hard part is that people’s emotions are very strong after disasters, and they immediately want to return to how things were. That’s why you see people picking up the pieces the day after a storm, sometimes even when they’re injured. So we have to resist the urge as a group, and say, maybe this isn’t the time to think about rebuilding here.
Many wetland restoration projects in Florida are doing that very thing: reclaiming the environments that protected people inland. But on the other side you have developers and builders and local economies that rely on people coming to these areas, and that pressures people to come right back. Then you end up with a situation of repetitive losses and that’s why FEMA has been losing money over the years — it’s not so much that we’re putting money toward disasters but that we’re not getting value out of it, because it’s so much more likely for there to be impacts because of that exposure growth. Look at what happened after Helene and what’s going to happen with Milton: We’re splitting resources between the two. But we’re doing the best with the tools we have when there’s pressure on both sides, and considerations both economic and safety.
Is there anything else people should know about the geography of Tampa or the development risk there?
This storm is going to be different than other storms, and that’s because of the direction and intensity of it. The one thing we have to remember is that all that development — and everybody, for the most part, who isn’t 100 years old — has not experienced a hurricane of this magnitude in their life. That means everyone has the cognitive bias to say, “I’ve been through hurricanes before and was fine.” That is probably not going to be the case with this event; no one has been through this before.
What’s worrisome to me is that the trajectory of the hurricane is changing. A subtle shift north or south by 20 miles could mean a big difference for the Tampa region — if you have the right side of the hurricane push water into the Bay, it’s no different than 10 people jumping into a hot tub. The water level goes up and forces all that water into a smaller region, which is going to lead to more storm surge in Tampa Bay, Clearwater, and the St. Pete area. I don’t want to call it a “perfect storm,” but if you push all that water in there, you’re going to flood people in a way that hurricanes they’ve been through before never got close to. And I worry, if it goes south, about Fort Myers and the areas that were hit hard by Hurricane Ian. So it’s multilayered.
The good news that I’ll bring up is that we’re reeling from Helene, which means people have it in their brains about how bad this can be, which is probably causing more people to evacuate than normal. We have a problem with disaster amnesia in places where a hurricane hasn’t happened in a long time so “it’s not going to happen again.” And we forget. I remember Hurricane Katrina and what it did to New Orleans. It still has effects, but the students I’m teaching now weren’t even alive when it hit. These memories are short, and many people in Florida today weren’t there 30 years ago or 20 years ago. The only good thing to come out of Helene is that people are now aware of what can happen.
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Plus, Google and Amazon report on what hyperscaling has done to their emissions.
There’s an interesting new report out today from the progressive think tank Groundwork Collaborative that makes a case for how Democrats can harness the artificial intelligence and data center boom to help the power grid — while also cutting costs for electricity customers.
But first, some news. We’ve known for some time now that artificial intelligence is transforming America’s biggest technology companies, turning them into major energy consumers and even quasi-industrial firms. Now we have even more evidence that it’s driving up their carbon emissions, too.
Google and Amazon released their annual sustainability reports yesterday, and both show huge surges in their energy use and climate pollution. Google’s greenhouse gas pollution grew by 18% last year, its largest year-over-year jump on record, and its energy use leapt by 37%. The company’s energy use rose by more than a quarter last year; it now uses roughly 3.5 times as much energy as it did before the pandemic.
Amazon’s climate pollution, meanwhile, increased by more than 16%, surging by the equivalent of more than 10 million metric tons of carbon dioxide. Emissions from its purchased electricity increased 34% since last year. If you feel like you’re seeing more Rivian-made Amazon delivery vans on the road, you’re not wrong: The company claims it deployed an additional 21,000 last year.
What’s driving this surge? The AI boom, of course. “Our AI infrastructure buildout is currently accelerating faster than the grid is decarbonizing,” Kate Brandt, Google’s chief sustainability officer, said in a statement.
What to do about it? That’s what Groundwork’s report is about.
“How do we bring down costs now? How do we bring down costs in the long term? And how can we make those two things mutually reinforcing?” Grayson Flood, the report’s author and a former policy adviser to Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, told me. “We wanted to be pretty direct about addressing what we see as a broken incentive structure within the system, particularly for interregional transmission.”
The report outlines a few novel ideas about how to lower prices immediately, in part to get through a coming multi-year “crunch,” during which the power grid in some regions will be maximally constrained while utilities work to bring new power plants online:
The report also imagines several policy ideas to help build out the grid. One of them is a Grid Trust Fund, a new federal bank account funded through an excise tax on data centers and other large electricity loads.
The government has often turned to funds like these to support infrastructure that creates a natural monopoly at national scale, Flood said. “The interstate highway is the most notorious example, but you can look at airports, you can look at seaports — they have these types of trust funds. There’s a lot of precedent for this in the tax code, and they tend to be financed with excise taxes on some sort of corresponding usage of the infrastructure.”
Under his scheme, the new excise tax would fall on big power users like data centers or crypto miners that don’t generate many permanent local jobs — in other words, aluminum smelters, steel mills, and semiconductor fabs would be exempt from it. But even just taxing electricity for large loads at 1 or 1.5 cents per kilowatt-hour, he said, could throw off more than $100 billion in a decade. That money could then be used to fund new transmission projects, technical assistance for utilities, ratepayer relief, or economic development.
That trust fund would be partly overseen by a National Power Authority, a new government corporation modeled on the Tennessee Valley Authority or the Energy Department’s existing power marketing administrations. This authority would have limited powers and would be partly inspired by Texas’ successful effort to centrally plan transmission lines in order to expand its electricity market.
The new authority would plan and develop interregional transmission, linking far-flung regions of the country to create new power markets. It would also have the power to build new 24/7 zero-carbon electricity power plants with high up-front capital costs, such as new geothermal projects, offshore wind farms, or nuclear plants.
“People talk about the power grid as a platform,” Flood said. But “right now, the grid is not functioning as a backbone and platform, it’s functioning as a bottleneck.”
The goal of the report, he said, is to ask: “How do we build [the power grid] as a backbone to support the growth of private markets, whether that’s in renewable energy generation, or an AI data center, or a new hospital that’s showing up?”
It’s an interesting document. Many energy wonks have proposed plans to shift some of the costs of expanding the electricity system out of the ratebase — that is, out of customers’ power bills — and onto the tax base, which is funded in a more progressive way. (I recently argued for a national, publicly funded grid buildout in The New York Times.) The new Groundwork report, in essence, tries to reframe those ideas for an era of populist politics — and one in which Americans are suspicious of data centers, as Heatmap’s polling has shown.
In its fusion of populist and pro-growth attitudes, this new set of proposals reminds me of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s attempt to freeze the rent for some tenants while passing major supply-side reforms allowing new housing construction. That effort has won Mamdani praise from many housing advocates in New York (even as some remain dubious about his de facto rent freeze). Whether that kind of politics works at a national level remains to be seen.
The bill is part of a package now sitting on Governor Mikie Sherrill’s desk.
Data center politics are continuing to evolve rapidly, and almost always in the direction of increasing costs and restrictions for data center development.
In New Jersey, which has become ground zero for the political backlash to high electricity prices, a gaggle of bills relating to data centers and electricity prices just hit the desk of newly elected Governor Mikie Sherrill, including a large load tariff bill, a water and energy reporting bill, and a bill to scale back tax credits available to data center projects.
All of these pieces of legislation are consistent with national and local trends (federal regulators are encouraging regional electricity markets to come up with large load tariffs, for example), with tax credits getting an especially close look in statehouses across the country.
Thirty-eight states have “ dedicated tax incentives for data centers,” according to an April study by the National Conference on State Legislatures. These often include exemptions from sales taxes for data center equipment like servers and routers, or property tax abatements for newly constructed data centers.
In Virginia, which last year elected Sherrill’s former House colleague Abigail Spanberger as governor, the sales tax exemption has become a hot issue of political contestation, as powerful Virginia State Senator Louise Lucas has come out in opposition to it. A budget deal recently reached in the state’s General Assembly included a tax on data center electricity consumption, while the data center tax exemption question will be kicked to a working group for now, according to the Virginia Mercury.
The New Jersey bill currently on the governor’s desk targets a tax credit program called Next New Jersey, which has some $500 million to disburse for tax credits. Half of that has been allocated for a CoreWeave data center project on the site of an existing laboratory, State Senator Joseph Cryan told me. The remaining $250 million would be used to bolster a number of existing state programs.
“The reason for eliminating it was, frankly, because people are outraged over the amount of money CoreWeave got,” Cryan said.
CoreWeave did not respond to a request for comment. A Sherill spokesperson didn’t comment on the record about when or whether the bills would be signed.
New Jersey and Virginia’s examination of tax credits comes after another state with a Democratic governor, Illinois, paused tax incentives for data centers that had been worth almost $1 billion in the first five years of this decade.
The turn against tax incentives for data centers comes as the public is increasingly wary of the latter and their perceived effect on electricity prices. This turn in sentiment has forced governors — like, say, Indiana Governor Mike Braun — to pivot away from their typical cheerleading for new businesses.
“States are very focused on attracting industries of the future, attracting jobs for their residents, attracting business,” Justin Balik, a former economic development official in New Jersey and vice president for states at the climate group Evergreen Action, told me. But, he asked, “Does the economic development strategy for a state reflect its other policy priorities?”
New Jersey itself is an example of how quickly the politics of economic development can turn. When the bill establishing the Next New Jersey program passed in 2024, then-Governor Phil Murphy trumpeted the bill for “capitalizing on this moment to ensure we establish ourselves as a frontrunner in generative AI innovation.”
“AI has already started to revolutionize our everyday lives, and New Jersey is capitalizing on this moment to ensure we establish ourselves as a frontrunner in generative AI innovation,” Murphy said in a statement typical of the more boosterist era of, uhhh, two years ago. “AI will be a transformative industry that will change lives and grow our economy and New Jersey is ready to take the lead.”
That was in July 2024. Now it’s July 2026. Electricity bills in New Jersey have gone up from $108 per month in May 2024 to $140 this past May, according to the Heatmap-MIT Electricity Price Hub, while rates have gone up some 38%. And while it’s often difficult to attribute electricity rate hikes directly to data center development — or even determine whether data centers raise rates at all — New Jersey, which is part of the PJM Interconnection electricity market, is almost certainly seeing hikes due to data center construction. PJM has struggled to bring on new generation or adequate transmission, and its own market monitor said in March that “data center load growth is the primary reason for recent and expected capacity market conditions, including total forecast load growth, the tight supply and demand balance, and high prices.”
The conditions have forced lawmakers to reconsider their typical bias toward economic development, Balik told me. “I think we’re seeing a moment where there’s a reckoning with the energy affordability conversation,” he said, “Where folks are rightly saying, hey, we care about clean energy in some cases, and in a lot of cases we care about energy affordability. Does our economic development strategy match those priorities, or are these two things at odds with each other?”
Cryan, the state senator, put it more bluntly: “The reason for doing it was to show the public that we hear their outrage and can do something about it,” he said. “The governor and the legislature have heard the voices of the people of New Jersey.”
What the heck is “surficial mineralization”?
According to one of the world’s leading carbon removal buyers, the sector’s future lies in piles of industrial waste.
When Frontier, the Stripe-led coalition of carbon removal supporters, announced its latest $915 million funding commitment, it took the opportunity to lay out the five technologies it views as most promising. I was familiar with four of them — ocean alkalinity enhancement, biomass carbon removal and storage, enhanced rock weathering, and direct air capture. Heatmap has covered them all. But the name on the very top of the list stumped me: surficial mineralization.
It sounds technical, and like all methods of carbon removal, it is — sort of. The idea is to take advantage of the tailings ponds and slag heaps left behind by the mining and steelmaking industries. These piles of calcium- or magnesium-rich debris naturally capture and store carbon from the air — not enough to change the trajectory of our warming planet without any human intervention, but managed well, they could one day capture carbon at a significant scale.
How significant, exactly? While there’s been very little action in the space to date, Frontier says surficial mineralization has the potential to remove over 10 gigatons of carbon from the atmosphere per year — as much or more than any other pathway — at an eventual cost of $80 to $120 per ton. That would put it among the cheapest approaches on Frontier’s list, in part because those heaps of industrial waste alone could absorb anywhere from a gigaton to 4 gigatons of carbon before there’s a need to mine rocks solely for carbon removal purposes.
“The beauty of surficial mineralization is twofold,” Hannah Bebbington Valori, who heads the Frontier coalition, told me. “One, we are working with an abundant source of highly reactive rock, and so there is a significant opportunity for carbon dioxide drawdown. And two, it is carbonating in place, and so sufficient mineralization technologies can be considered closed system approaches, and have generally more straightforward measurement reporting and verification infrastructure.”
At a chemical level, the process resembles other carbon removal pathways Frontier champions, such as enhanced rock weathering and ocean alkalinity enhancement. All three rely on alkaline minerals reacting with moisture and ambient carbon dioxide to form stable carbonate compounds that permanently lock away the gas. The difference is exactly where this reaction takes place: While surficial mineralization contains it to waste piles at industrial sites, the other approaches disperse the reaction across open, difficult-to-monitor systems such as farmland soils and the ocean.
That makes measurement, reporting, and verification — known as MRV — far more challenging and expensive for ocean- and soil-based systems, as scientists must track carbon uptake across ecologically complex environments where countless biological and chemical processes are unfolding simultaneously. These intersecting processes makes it difficult to demonstrate that human intervention was responsible for any given ton of carbon removed, as opposed to natural variability. MRV for these pathways thus relies heavily on modeling, which can never provide the same level of certainty as direct measurement.
Surficial mineralization, however, can be measured much more directly. On-site sensors continuously monitor CO2 concentrations above mine tailings or steel slag, providing a real-time signal of how quickly and to what degree the materials are drawing down carbon. Scientists can then validate these measurements in the lab by comparing physical samples of the material taken before and after the reaction, quantifying exactly how much solid carbonate formed as a result of various engineered interventions. The primary tool for this is X-ray diffraction — a well-established geological technique that identifies a sample’s mineral composition like a chemical fingerprint, making it possible to directly measure how much carbon the material locked away.
Don’t mistake the relative simplicity of the MRV framework for evidence that surficial mineralization is a proven carbon removal pathway — the reality is far from it. While mineralization may look simpler than, say, direct air capture, which typically uses giant fans and specialized sorbents to pull CO2 from the air, there are very few companies working in this space today. All are extremely early stage, and the time and capital required to secure feedstock partnerships, gain site access, and acquire necessary industrial equipment remain significant barriers to getting these projects off the ground.
Why is this heavy equipment needed in the first place? Because these waste piles won’t do much carbon capture work if they’re simply left untouched. That’s because the minerals at the pile’s surface will begin to slowly carbonate, eventually becoming fully saturated and acting as a seal that blocks carbon from reaching the reactive minerals below. As yet there’s no consensus on how to most quickly and cost-effectively break through this natural process to maximize carbon uptake — companies are testing a range of approaches, from crushing and spreading material to maximize air exposure (similar to enhanced rock weathering) to actively churning piles of waste to constantly reveal fresh reactive surfaces.
“Understanding exactly what is the best system to use to maximize your carbon removal efficiency and minimize your cost — this is what we need real-world deployment to do, and to understand,” Bebbington Valori told me.
One of the seed-stage startups Frontier has supported with a small pre-purchase agreement, Arca, spun out of the University of British Columbia to commercialize its approach to carbon removal from mine tailings. The company’s focus is ultramafic waste — magnesium- and iron-rich rock that locks away carbon dioxide as stable magnesium carbonate. “My pathway for interest on that was knowing that there was already about 2 billion tons of ultramafic mine waste sitting on the surface of the Earth in Canada alone,” Greg Dipple, Arca’s co-founder and head of science, told me.
Arca proposes to increase the surface area available for carbon capture in two ways. The first is by using customized robots to continuously till and churn tailings piles, constantly exposing fresh feedstock to the air to maximize carbon uptake before the next layer of tailings is deposited on top. That strategy, Dipple told me, “can give us a five- to 10-fold increase in the rate of CO2 capture” at active mine sites.
It successfully demonstrated this approach in an 18-month pilot project with Australian mining giant BHP at an active mine in the country's Northern Goldfields region where Arca says it increased the tailings’ mineralization rate by an order of magnitude. But the startup plans to push the efficacy of its tech further through what it calls “mineral activation.” This technique uses industrial-scale microwaves to heat the minerals rapidly enough to drive off the water that’s chemically bound within their crystal structure. This essentially blows apart the minerals from the inside out, exposing fresh magnesium-rich surfaces primed to react with carbon dioxide. The expected result is faster mineralization and more carbon captured per ton of mine tailings — but the startup has yet to test it in the field.
“Essentially we’re making microwave popcorn out of silicate minerals,” Dipple explained. “The microwaves cause the release of that water in the same way that when you make popcorn, you’re essentially boiling the water out of the center of the kernel, and that’s what blows the kernel up and creates this high surface area.” The idea is to eventually integrate this step into the mine’s tailings processing stream, with minerals moving through the giant microwave before they’re deposited at the storage facility.
Dipple told me that mineral activation will be a core part of Arca’s future projects, including those intended to fulfill the company’s 10-year carbon removal offtake agreement with Microsoft. Signed last October, the deal calls for Arca to deliver nearly 300,000 metric tons of carbon removal to the software giant.
While no other startup in the space has landed an offtake agreement of that scale, several have secured early backing from Frontier through pre-purchase agreements. One of them, Karbonetiq, is working to capture carbon from steel slag, the calcium-rich byproduct of steel production that accumulates in large piles at processing sites. Like the magnesium-rich minerals in mine tailings, calcium compounds in steel slag naturally react with moisture and carbon dioxide to form a stable calcium carbonate — a.k.a. limestone — permanently locking up the CO2.
Unlike mine tailings however, slag doesn’t begin as a fine powder. Instead, the molten byproducts poured off from high-temperature steel furnaces cool into chunks the size of large rocks, leaving only their outer surfaces exposed to the air and able to react with CO2. Karbonetiq’s strategy is essentially to crush and disperse those rocks to increase their reactive surface area. As the company’s commercial vice president, Luke Rondel, explained, “We crush [the slag] down so you get smaller particle sizes. We then spread that out in a field of material, and we till that material with a tractor and plow, which is just turning over new surfaces.”
Each pathway has its advantages — while Arca’s magnesium-rich mine tailings are the most abundant feedstock, Rondel told me that the calcium-based reactions in slag happen significantly faster. For its part, Frontier hopes to test and evaluate a range of approaches at its new Surficial Mineralization Hub in Quebec, which it announced at the end of April. Located at a former asbestos mine, the hub will give participating startups access to “10,000 tons of serpentinite tailings and space for pilot scale testing,” Bebbington Valori told me, as well as local labs with specialized equipment.
This should eliminate some of the hurdles facing the nascent sector, chief among them being access to the right kinds of reactive rocks. Small startups “really need to either partner with large academic labs or with large mining companies to get access to that feedstock,” Bebbington Valori told me — a difficult and expensive proposition for a company that’s just getting off the ground.
While Frontier has yet to announce the cohort of participating startups, both Arca and Karbonetiq told me they hope to test their technology there, with the latter planning what would be one of its first mine tailings pilots through the program. Ultimately the goal is to generate the proof points needed to give both the startups and Frontier a clearer roadmap for which approaches can realistically scale — and what kind of support they’ll need to get there.
It certainly won’t be a straightforward process — bringing new technology into old-school industries never is — and the economics will only start to pencil if their operations reach meaningful scale. In theory, mining companies could benefit from hosting surficial mineralization projects, whether through site access fees, outsourcing elements of waste management, or even critical minerals recovery. Miners could even develop and scale the technology themselves, if they so desire. But the sector has historically been reluctant to adopt new tech. “The classic quote is, in mining you always want to be No. 2, you don’t want to be the first one,” Dipple told me. “You don’t want to put up a $2 billion plant that doesn’t work.”
So like nearly everything in the carbon removal space, early execution is falling to the startups that aren’t afraid of a little risk. “They’re watching for sure,” Dipple said of the mining industry at large. “But they want to be No. 2. We’re going to have to be No. 1.”