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The answer depends on where it’s going and what it’s replacing.

President Biden’s decision to pause approving liquified natural gas export terminals until it can better study their climate effects — functionally delaying or even outright preventing their construction — got real political, real fast. Almost immediately, West Virginia Senator Joe Manchin called for a hearing on the president’s decision-making.
“If the Administration has the facts to prove that additional LNG export capacity would hurt Americans, they must make that information public and clear,” he said in a statement last week. “But if this pause is just another political ploy to pander to keep-it-in-the-ground climate activists at the expense of American workers, businesses and our allies in need, I will do everything in my power to end this pause immediately.”
While Senator Manchin is not exactly the administration’s biggest fan lately, he’s also asking some pretty interesting questions. One of the animating ideas of the past few months in climate politics has been the argument that LNG (and maybe even pipeline gas) are in fact far worse for the global climate even than coal, which has long been assumed to be the dirtiest, most carbon-intensive fossil fuel around. That view is based on research by Cornell University scientist Robert Howarth and has been expounded by climate advocates and elected officials alike.
But that research has not yet passed through peer review. Even if it had, Howarth’s past research has gotten criticism from other climate scientists for using some idiosyncratic assumptions that yield more dramatic results.
Make no mistake, meeting the goals of the Paris Agreement and holding global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius over pre-industrial levels requires winding down our use of fossil fuels as quickly as possible. If we meet those goals, the natural gas export terminals delayed by the Biden administration’s decision will likely go dormant well before the end of their expected lifespans. But it’s not the case that in all possible worlds, continuing or even expanding natural gas production and exports would actually be worse for the climate.
The basic physics of coal emissions versus LNG emissions are just part of the equation. When it’s burned, natural gas releases carbon dioxide, the primary source of human-caused climate change, albeit less carbon dioxide than coal. But natural gas is itself mostly methane, CH4, which traps far more heat than CO2 when it leaks from wells, pipelines, and production facilities. (LNG is also much more energy-intensive to extract, produce, and store than regular natural gas, since it has to be cooled to -260 degrees Fahrenheit, sailed across the ocean and then “regasified” and shipped via pipeline on the other side.) While CH4 is more potent than CO2 from a warming perspective, it also breaks down much more quickly in the atmosphere, which means the warming effect doesn’t last as long.
How to think about LNG’s effect on overall emissions, then, largely depends on how much you think each of these factors matters. “Only if we assume high methane leakage rates and a 20-year global warming potential is natural gas worse than coal, and such assumptions are likely unrealistic,” wrote Carnegie Mellon energy systems researcher Paulina Jaramillo in an essay titled, aptly, “Navigating the LNG Dilemma.”
Absolute emissions aren’t even what we should be asking about, Arvind Ravikumar, a professor at the University of Texas and a leading scholar on natural gas and energy policy, told me. “The climate impact of U.S. LNG depends on what it replaces in countries — whether those alternatives have more or less emissions than U.S. LNG.”
When the United States stepped in to replace much of the gas the European Union would otherwise buy from Russia with LNG, Ravikumar explained, it likely reduced overall emissions because of lower methane emissions from the U.S. gas industry. Before the invasion of Ukraine, Russia supplied about 155 billion cubic meters of natural gas to Europe; by 2022, that was down to around 80 billion cubic meters. That’s a lot of energy to replace. In that time, the U.S. more than doubled its LNG exports to Europe, which has guaranteed demand of at least 50 billion cubic meters from the U.S. through 2030.
Had the U.S. not ramped up its LNG exports, boosters argue, these countries might not have had a viable alternative and might have turned to coal, instead. But that won’t be the case in every single possible future scenario. “There’s no right answer,” Ravikumar told me. “It depends on who buys, what time frame, which country, and how are they using LNG.”
There’s at least one clear case study of the coal-to-gas switch working to lower emissions: the United States itself.
In 2007, the U.S. was consuming just over 1 billion tons of coal for electricity; by 2016 that had declined to 679 million, and by 2022 to just under 500 million — in other words, by more than half. In that same time, natural gas use for electricity grew from 7 trillion cubic feet in 2007 to 10 trillion cubic feet in 2016 to 12 trillion cubic feet in 2022.
U.S. greenhouse gas emissions have dropped more than 15% since 2007 to even below their 1992 levels, according to the Environmental Protection Agency and the Rhodium Group. The drop in emissions has been going on since 2010, which the EPA attributes, in part, to "the growing use of natural gas and renewables to generate electricity in place of more carbon-intensive fuels.”
As climatologist Zeke Hausfather put it in an earlier commentary on an earlier Howarth paper, “While it isn’t responsible for the majority of emissions reductions, natural gas replacing coal is the largest single driver.”
Much of the conceptual infrastructure on which climate policy operates relies on estimating what the world will be like in the future — not just figuring out the effects of different levels of greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere, but also figuring out different likely pathways for the evolution of those emissions over time.
This works in both directions — asking how specific projects either reduce or lower emissions, and asking about what an energy system would look like in a world where emissions have been reduced enough to avoid certain levels of temperature increases. And that’s really where the rubber meets the road.
In a scenario where the world hits its Paris Agreement goals, there would not be the coal-to-gas switching envisioned by LNG advocates precisely because there would be very little coal still being used to generate electricity. The fear, then, is that LNG terminals would either become stranded assets, capital investments that wind up becoming liabilities; or that, once they’re in operation, the companies behind them would use their political and economic leverage — not to mention just the power of inertia — to keep enough natural gas in the global energy system to be profitable.
“Either you’re building and planning to shut it down early,” Hausfather told me, “or you’re building something that’s going to be inconsistent with the world we’re aiming to have under our climate targets.”
In a Paris-compliant world, almost 90% of the world’s coal reserves and over half of the natural gas and oil reserves will stay in the ground, according to researchers from University College London. They estimate that in order to meet the Paris targets, gas production would “see rapid decline” from 2020 to 2050 and would be eliminated as a fuel for electricity generation by 2040, with accompanying “low utilization rates of infrastructure, and limited prospect for future additional liquefaction capacity” for exports.
In other words, in a world that comes in under 1.5 degrees of warming, the emissions reductions from coal-to-gas switching peter out after 2035; with 2 degrees of warming it’s around 2040 to 2045 — in any case, beyond the planned life of the export terminals that the Biden administration’s decision affects.
But how much LNG export capacity the United States builds up in the next decade is only a tiny part of the overall emissions picture now, in 2035, or in 2050. “This is the issue with regulating at a project level in general,” energy consultant Sean Smillie told me. “The decision of any given project in the scheme of global emissions is small. For me, that points to the fact that we’re trying to regulate climate change — which is a systemic issue — at the project level, and that’s a very hard thing to do.”
The biggest question is just how energy systems overseas evolve — and what role LNG exports play in that determination. The European Union is about to decide whether to reduce its net collective emissions 90% from 1990 levels by 2040, on their way to zero by 2050, which would signal a sharp reduction in demand coming from that part of the world. Meanwhile, for U.S. LNG export projects currently in the permitting pipeline, Asian countries are contracted to receive a much bigger share, according to a Public Citizen analysis. Bloomberg reports that those buyers have started looking elsewhere — including to Russia.
But what if we don’t hit our Paris Agreement targets, as the United Nations and Bill Gates agree we’re increasingly unlikely to do? What if developing countries prioritize cheap, available energy (like India’s growing coal production) over climate goals? In that case, Ravikumar argues, then LNG export capacity turns from a potential “stranded asset” into an insurance policy.
“The way to think about LNG in the longer term is the insurance against a 3 [degrees of warming] world,” Ravikumar told me. If we fail at taking quick action to change our systems from carbon-polluting to zero-carbon energy, we might still be doing some coal-to-gas switching by 2050.
“It’s hard to say for certain that we will or not need the LNG export terminals by 2050 and 2060,” Elan Sykes, an energy policy analyst at the Progressive Policy Institute and an opponent of the Biden administration’s decision, told me. “Absent aggressive foreign policy measures [like] a Green Marshall Plan for worldwide clean energy, it’s hard to imagine a world where LNG doesn’t provide” some value, whether from continuing to help reduce emissions or simply maintaining a reliable supply of energy, he said.
Modelers are good at figuring out what the energy mix of a 1.5, 2, or 3-degree world would look like. They’re less good at predicting how that energy mix will evolve over time in the world we actually live in — and it’s in that world that the Biden administration will have to decide whether more LNG exports will serve the public interest.
The job isn’t just to make decisions for an ideal world. As Hausfather told me, it’s “aiming at the best versus mitigating the worst.”
With reporting by Emily Pontecorvo.
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Plus more venture capital musings on Day 4 of New York Climate Week.
It’s another hectic and productive Climate Week in New York City, full of discussions on topics ranging from electrification, to permitting reform (the latest: it’s going to wait until after the midterms), to energy security amid soaring oil and gas prices, to, inevitably, the ways the data center buildout is both helping and hurting climate tech companies and emissions targets alike.
As usual, cadres of venture capitalists descended on Midtown Manhattan, bringing with them the particular brand of optimism that venture inherently requires. They touted the potential synergies between cleantech and the artificial intelligence boom, bemoaned the persistent “missing middle” funding gap, and debated ways to talk about climate without actually saying the word climate. Through it all, a few core themes emerged.
The first was the inescapable truth that the American economy is being hugely buoyed by AI right now. At our Heatmap House event on Wednesday, I asked Gabriel Kra, co-founder of early-stage climate tech investment firm Prelude Ventures, about the successful IPOs of geothermal company Fervo and nuclear energy company X-Energy. I wondered aloud whether their ability to reach that milestone said less about broad cleantech enthusiasm than it did about their hyperscaler customer base and its desperation for clean, firm power.
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He was nonplussed. “So wait, you’re asking if the current IPOs are reflective of the current economic environment?” he joked (sort of). “It’s likely that this country is in a zero growth or recessionary environment without the capital expenditures and the economic growth being driven by those same hyperscalers. And those hyperscalers are driving the largest change in the demand for energy, the largest change in the demand for electricity that we have seen in like a century.”
Point taken.
Dawn Lippert, founder of the philanthropically funded nonprofit investment firm Elemental Impact and its offshoot venture fund, Earthshot Ventures, likewise emphasized the opportunity to ride AI’s momentum to deploy cleantech in and around data centers. Elemental recently launched the Data Center Innovation Initiative, a partnership between climate tech startups, philanthropic organizations, and four hyperscalers — Google, Microsoft, Amazon, and Meta — to fund and pilot solutions such as low-carbon building materials, energy efficiency infrastructure, cooling solutions, and energy storage.
“We all feel a little bit used by data centers,” Lippert told me onstage at Heatmap House. “We thought, how can you actually use data centers to do the things that we need to do as society? And pulling forward clean energy technologies and sustainable technologies is one of the most interesting ways that they can be a real service to society.”
But she admitted that the data center story has essentially bifurcated the climate tech industry into the haves and have-nots. “We certainly see this as a tale of two sectors.” She told me. On the other, less fortunate, side of the equation, she listed companies working on lowering emissions in the food and agriculture supply chain. While she didn’t name names, that could mean everything from alternative protein startups to companies working to curb cattle’s methane emissions or developing alternatives to synthetic fertilizers.
Nature-based solutions are also faring poorly in the current environment, Lippert told me. That could include carbon removal companies pursuing everything from reforestation to enhanced rock weathering. “I think we need much more catalytic capital to make sure that companies and really good innovations can weather this storm that we have,” she told me, referring to those being left behind as AI sucks all of the attention and money out of the room.
Another theme that emerged was pushback to the notion that backing infrastructure-intensive climate tech solutions is necessarily incompatible with traditional venture timelines — or that taking longer when needed somehow makes those investments less worthwhile.
“I am proving you can have exits of very substantial fund returners in less than 10 years,” Katie Rae, CEO of the MIT-affiliated VC Engine Ventures, told me onstage at Heatmap House. “So I don’t know, do I need a longer timeline than software needs? Looks like I don’t.” She currently sits on the board of a number of prominent climate tech startups, including long-duration storage company Form Energy and Commonwealth Fusion Systems. Many in the industry are speculating that both could go public in the next few years, potentially putting them just within the 10-year mark from Engine Ventures’ first seed check to exit.
At an event I moderated on Monday at fusion company Thea Energy’s New Jersey headquarters, investors in the four-year-old startup told the audience they’re perfectly willing to wait until the mid-2030s for Thea to put its first fusion electrons on the grid. “The thing that we came up against when we were underwriting Thea is something that you hear all the time with fusion,” Pete Mathias, a general partner at the early-stage firm Reveille VC, told me. “Oh, it’s going to take 10, 15, years. And oh, it’s going to take a billion dollars. Well, yeah, I mean, so did DoorDash. They raised $2.5 billion dollars to bring food to your doorstep.”
You could practically hear his eyes rolling at the comparable triviality. “So when you look on a relative basis what the mission of this company is, the scale of the opportunity, the durability of the product, the kilowatt-hour cost of energy — it’s a much more investable case.”
This year’s biggest energy IPOs, Fervo and X-Energy, also challenge the notion that profitability must precede public market success. “If you told me a geothermal company that had not produced commercial electricity and a nuclear company that had not produced any commercial electricity were about to be multi-billion-dollar public companies [...] and tried to raise money from me five or 10 years ago, based on that premise, I would have said you’re crazy,” Kra told me.
In fact, both companies have stated in SEC filings that they expect to continue racking up losses for years, as any fusion company thinking about going public anytime soon would likely do, as well. But much like Fervo and X-Energy’s earliest backers, public market investors bought into the company’s forward-looking vision. “And why could they believe that story?” Kra asked. “They had customers who were willing to pay them money for their product,” he said. Simple as that. Fervo’s early customers include Southern California Edison and Google, while X-Energy plans to sell power to chemical producer Dow and Amazon.
Back at Thea’s event, Mathias threw additional cold water on the idea that traditional venture timelines and the intimidating cost of big infrastructure buildouts should dictate the viability of companies with the potential to fundamentally reshape society. “I thought Climate Week is all about, 100 years from now Planet Earth is on fire,” he said to the crowd. “What is the cost of that? It seems pretty high.”
A few other tidbits of note:
The bipartisan proposal from the House Science Committee comes with the backing of the Fusion Industry Association.
The nuclear fusion industry has been asking for a $10 billion investment from the U.S. government. Now, there’s a bipartisan coalition in Congress ready to give it to them.
On Thursday, Californians Zoe Lofgren, ranking member of the House Science Committee, and Jay Obernolte, chair of the body’s Subcommittee on Research and Technology, introduced the American Leadership in Fusion Act, which would pump some $10 billion into the industry to commercialize the frontier nuclear energy technology.
The $10 billion number was not pulled out of a hat (or a stellarator). The Fusion Industry Association called for a “one-time $10 billion injection of U.S. public capital into efforts and partnerships with the private fusion industry” late last year, a figure the group said was based on analyses from the National Academies of Science and a Department of Energy advisory committee.
“Fusion is the future, and this bipartisan bill is a major step in capitalizing on the promise of its emission-free power,” Lofgren said in a statement. “This bill will unleash a new era of fusion energy development in the United States.”
At our Heatmap House event at New York Climate Week on Wednesday, Commonwealth Fusion Systems CEO Bob Mumgaard acknowledged that $10 billion is a lot of money, but “you have to say what gets the job done. It’s a disservice to lowball what is needed. It’s this very important thing — it’s an entire new industry. Let’s treat it as such.”
The fusion industry hasn’t necessarily been hurting for private capital. In July, the FIA reported that 56 companies had raised almost $4.5 billion in the past year. CFS alone announced $1 billion of new funding in July, bringing its total investment up to $4 billion. Of the over $14 billion the industry has raised, almost a third has gone to CFS.
Whether this federal funding ever materializes remains to be seen. A Department of Energy official poured cold water on the $10 billion figure in July, telling the industry that the figure wasn’t plausible, according to Politico.
Obernolte and Lofgren’s bill would split the $10 billion into several pots all aimed at commercializing fusion technology, which has been the subject of university and scientific consortium research for decades.
The biggest chunk, almost $4 billion, would be devoted to building test facilities to work on materials and fuel. Another $2 billion would be put into the existing “milestone-based development program,” established by 2020’s Energy Act and expanded in the 2022 CHIPS and Science Act, which links funding to preset scientific and business targets. CFS has won funding through this program, as have seven other companies including Thea Energy and Tokamak Energy. Another $3 billion in the bill would go to a new demonstration program, analogous to the existing Advanced Reactor Demonstration Program for fission projects, which would probably involve fewer awards for bigger projects that require substantial cost sharing.
While it’s unlikely that this bill could become law this Congress, considering that the House of Representatives has left town to campaign for the midterms, fusion legislation typically garners bipartisan support. The ADVANCE Act, which included regulatory language easing fusion’s regulatory pathway, was signed into law in 2024 after passing the Senate in an 88-2 vote. It is unlikely, Democratic committee staff acknowledged, that the bill get a vote this Congress, but it could start momentum towards a bipartisan fusion bill in a future Congress.
Science Committee staff have been working on the American Leadership in Fusion Act since earlier this year, soliciting advice from national labs, universities, and companies working on fusion technology. The bill has won the endorsement of fusion industry heavyweights like CFS, the Fusion Industry Association, and several energy policy nonprofits and universities, including the Clean Air Task Force and ClearPath Action.
And it’s not crazy to expect the administration to take an interest in the bill, either, considering the latter’s bipartisan backing and alignment with the former’s own stated goals, a senior Democratic committee staffer told me.
Earlier this year, the Department of Energy released a Fusion Science and Technology Roadmap, which “aims to usher a burgeoning U.S. fusion industry toward maturity on the most rapid, credible timeline” including through “leveraging public and private sector investments.”
Third Way’s head of climate and energy argues that both sides have lost voters’ trust, with serious consequences for our infrastructure.
In September 2024, then-presidential candidate Donald Trump told a crowd in Wilmington: “We will cut your energy prices in half … Mark it down, and you can get very angry at me if we don't do it.” He gave himself one year from when he’d take office.
Two years later, rates are up. And we’re angry.
Utilities requested $18.6 billion in rate increases in the first half of 2026, including a record $9.2 billion in the second quarter alone. Gas prices are hovering close to $4.50 a gallon, almost a full dollar more than this time last year. Diesel prices are even worse, recently passing $6.50 a gallon, up by over 50% from one year ago.
In the past two years, electricity prices have increased by over 10%. In the past five years, it’s over 36%.
President Trump’s failure to lower costs has tanked his approval ratings, currently just 34% overall and 33% on his handling of the economy. But he’s not alone. Incumbent politicians across the country — along with utilities, energy-intensive businesses, and tech companies — have found themselves swept up in the backlash.
Those feelings of blame and distrust have emanated throughout our democracy. Just 27% of Americans trust national institutions, according to a June Gallup poll, a single point above the all-time low. Just 17% trust the federal government to do what's right. Nearly seven in 10 people fear that institutional leaders are deliberately misleading them.
Looking at our energy infrastructure, I understand the feeling. Government and industry have chronically neglected our electricity delivery system, offering impossible-to-fulfill slogans rather than real solutions.
Over the past four years, this has created what I’m calling the Energy Trust Gap. It results from the toxic collision of an aging, neglected, and overstressed grid; rising prices; and voter frustration with policymakers, regulators, and industries that overpromise and underdeliver.
This is not merely a Trump problem, though it is true that the president’s chaotic tariff strategy, his impossibly stupid war in Iran, and his senseless energy obstruction have dramatically widened this rift.
Instead of deploying more energy to the grid, the Trump administration has blocked renewables when Americans need them most. It paid TotalEnergies $928 million and Invenergy $765 million to abandon offshore wind leases — $1.7 billion of public money not to build power. Through the Pentagon, it has halted over 28 gigawatts of onshore wind projects in 21 states, and attempted to suspend five fully permitted projects already under construction. Thankfully, all five won injunctions and resumed development by February. Still, the industry's trade association estimated that the cancellations and delays would add $45 billion in East Coast energy costs over a decade.
Though a federal appeals court recently ruled against it, the administration was also using emergency authority to keep 11 fossil units at seven plants running at a cost of roughly $1.5 million per day. The evidence is quite weak that these units are necessary to maintain grid stability or meet unexpected demand. Some are producing substantially less power than they can, or have even been taken offline.
But the Energy Trust Gap has not been created by Republicans alone. Here is the part my side needs to sit with.
In 2022, then-President Biden promised that the Inflation Reduction Act would “bring down family energy bills by an average of $500 a year.” The White House projected that, alongside the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, the IRA would cut electricity rates by up to 9% by 2030. Advocates promised the law would create “more than 9 million good jobs.”
The Trump administration undid some of the efforts to fulfill these promises before they could bear fruit. But others were flimsy from the start.
An accompanying report on the 9 million jobs figure acknowledged, in a footnote, that “not all of the jobs created will be net new employment,” but rather would constitute workers hired away from elsewhere to remedy a tight labor market. It also clarified that “job” was less accurate than “job-year equivalent,” a technical measure of labor volume rather than individual people holding durable positions.
These caveats never made it into the president’s public comments, including at events I helped host.
We expected the government to spur private sector demand and create jobs across the country. We assumed the public would see the benefits and credit our clean energy policies. But voters didn’t see an IRA-driven jobs boom in their communities, didn’t feel its impact in reducing costs amid a crisis, and didn’t see it improving their lives.
Yes, there were jobs. But in an economy as large as the United States, the public simply doesn’t distinguish “clean energy jobs” from other sectors.
The promise of a national electric charging network to enable EV ownership didn’t pan out, either. Congress made $4.4 billion available for chargers in 2022; four years later, states had opened only around 150 public charging stations, a flop for a program designed to fund about 1,600 stations on the path to phasing out gas vehicles. Same story with home heating. The American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy found that in all four high-electricity-price states it modeled, the average gas household's bills increased after electrification.
When heating homes already accounts for more than 40% of residential energy consumption, you cannot credibly advocate for more expensive options.
These functional failures were also messaging failures. By 2024, 40% of registered voters hadn’t heard anything about the IRA. Governors got more credit for new renewable energy and green manufacturing facilities than President Biden did, according to a post-mortem on the law led by the University of Michigan’s Alexander Gazmararian. The Biden administration placed a big political bet on actions that were misbranded, inadequately promoted, and ultimately undeliverable before November 2024 — the only timeframe that mattered.
Let me be clear: The Energy Trust Gap will cost Democrats elections.
As policymakers head into November’s midterm elections, they are being called upon to answer for the proliferation of data centers and the skyrocketing cost of electricity. In this moment, Democrats could seize momentum from Republicans. But many are still ignoring the lessons of the past four years.
A large number of voters believe clean energy advocates are exaggerating the affordability of renewable energy. If candidates argue that the transition to clean energy is a guaranteed outcome, and that Biden’s climate law worked, they will lose.
Reality is breaking through in some places: Officials are concerned about the cost-of-living crisis, explicitly acknowledging the trade-offs that come with climate policy and prioritizing affordability for ratepayers above all else. In March, for example, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey signed an executive order to bring more energy and energy storage to the Bay State, calling for an “all-of-the-above approach to energy, including “solar, wind, gas, nuclear and hydro.” In New York, Governor Kathy Hochul has been honest that the state cannot meet its 2030 climate targets “without imposing new and additional crushing costs,” citing state estimates of more than $4,000 a year for upstate households burning oil and gas.
“Something has to give,” she said.
That honesty is critical. Policymakers, clean energy and climate advocates, and industry cannot fix the issues plaguing our energy system without regaining some credibility.
Here’s where I would start:
This is the uncomfortable but necessary path to closing the Energy Trust Gap. The alternative is more broken promises and putting our ambitions for energy, the economy, national security, and climate completely out of reach.
If policymakers can’t be straightforward about the trade-offs and deliver on their solutions, we’ll doom ourselves to policy whipsawing and another energy crisis.
Then another. Then another. Then another.