You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
That’s not an exaggeration, at least by one calculation.

In late March, the board that oversees New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority cast a final vote to implement congestion pricing. If the plan survives some last-ditch lawsuits, drivers will soon have to cough up $15 to travel into Lower Manhattan during rush hours. The MTA will get billions every year to make capital improvements, the air will be markedly cleaner, the streets notably less congested, and a proposal that was first pitched by former Mayor Michael Bloomberg 17 years ago will have finally been realized.
“I often wonder what our system would have been like if we passed it back in 2008,” MTA board member Haeda Mihaltses, a veteran of the Bloomberg administration, mused just before she cast her vote in favor.
The price of nearly two decades of procrastination over doing something to alleviate the most densely-populated, traffic-snarled place in North America is, indeed, unfathomably high. There’s the billions of dollars of mass transit infrastructure we missed out on, the billions spent on health care from breathing in dirty air.
And then there’s the most precious resource of all. According to one calculation from transport economist and congestion pricing advocate Charles Komanoff, the plan the MTA adopted last month will save drivers, bus passengers, and subway riders a combined 225,000 hours every single day. Here’s a fun thought experiment: If New York had adopted this plan back in 2008, we could have saved ourselves a combined 1,314,000,000 hours, or 150,000 years.
How could implementing something so obviously necessary and routine — anyone who has paid to camp in a National Park or drive on the New Jersey Turnpike understands the concept — take so long? What does it say about how we govern? And what can we learn from it?
“I think it is fair to say that whatever roadblock congestion pricing could have hit, it hit,” Rachael Fauss, a policy director and MTA researcher for the good government group Reinvent Albany, told me. “It was the worst case scenario of timelines if you were to project out: What are the things that could delay this?”
Some of the delays were deliberate: It’s hard enough for lawmakers to summon the courage to raise taxes on millionaires and billionaires, so charging drivers money for something that used to be “free,” to fund a transit agency that often conjures delayed trains and decades-long boondoggles in the public’s imagination, was always going to require a fortitude that is in chronically short supply in Albany. When then-New York Governor Andrew Cuomo pushed to pass congestion pricing in 2019, he and his fellow lawmakers wrote into the actual bill that the tolling scheme couldn’t be announced for a year and a half — until after the 2020 election. The same politicians who were supposedly brave enough to vote congestion pricing into law didn’t want anything to do with putting that law into practice.
Then there were the bureaucratic delays. The COVID pandemic, of course, redirected much of the government and forced the MTA into survival mode as subway ridership dropped 90%; suddenly the agency’s most important work was to coordinate lifesaving bailouts from the federal and state governments. Then the Trump administration slow-walked the answer to a key question: Because the congestion pricing plan involved placing tolls on roads built with federal funding, the state needed a sign-off from the federal Department of Transportation. But was congestion pricing the kind of massive infrastructure project that, under the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969, required an exhaustive Environmental Impact Statement? Could it pass NEPA review with a less thorough Environmental Assessment? Or, given that nothing was actually being built up or torn down, could it be exempt from these reviews altogether?
Two years after the congestion pricing law passed, and months after the plan was supposed to go into effect in early 2021, the newly installed Biden administration finally asked for the middle option, an Environmental Assessment, which the MTA initially said could be done in a matter of months. In actuality, that timeline stretched to 16 months and produced a 4,000-page behemoth that some experts noted was more comprehensive than the average EIS.
Seemingly nothing escaped the MTA’s scrutiny — it even looked at how congestion pricing would affect traffic in the Philadelphia suburbs (not all that much). The results were not exactly shocking: Tolling vehicles entering Lower Manhattan below 60th Street would result in up to 20% fewer vehicles in the Central Business District, improving air quality while also generating $1 billion in revenue for public transit, which could then be used to secure up to $15 billion in bonds. After more than 50 public meetings and 25,000 written comments (60% in favor of the plan), the Biden administration produced a “finding of no significant impact,” meaning that congestion pricing wouldn’t negatively affect the economy, the environment, or the roads.
There was at least one notable benefit that came from doing such a comprehensive, time-intensive review: The MTA found that congestion pricing could cause an increase in truck traffic to the South Bronx for drivers looking to toll shop, which in turn prompted the agency to allocate $200 million to alleviate pollution in some of New York City’s poorest neighborhoods, which have shamefully high asthma rates that mostly affect Black and Latine New Yorkers. “Is it congestion pricing’s job to remedy those problems? Maybe not,” Fauss, of Reinvent Albany, said. “But is it a really important way to correct some past wrongs? Yeah, absolutely.”
The MTA’s thoroughness may help protect it from the bad faith lawsuits that have been filed to try and shut down the license plate readers before they go live on June 15. But we’re in the midst of a climate crisis. Why should a 54-year-old law designed to prevent overeager developers from doing things like demolishing neighborhoods to build highways discourage cities and states from enacting dynamic, flexible solutions to cut pollution created by those highways — and fund public transit at the same time? And why should a review of a plan that requires no concrete, no demolition — no actual infrastructure — take three years?
The biggest hurdle congestion pricing had to overcome might have been psychological. Let’s call it "car brain": Even though 85% of commuters who travel into the Central Business District take mass transit, for years, lawmakers and congestion pricing opponents have argued (and in the case of the current New York City Mayor Eric Adams, still argue) that charging people to drive into Lower Manhattan was a kind of attack on the middle class. In a city where valuable street real estate has been converted into free parking, congestion pricing was portrayed as profaning the sacred rights of "regular" New Yorkers — never mind the fact that just 2% of New York’s working poor will end up paying the tolls. Driving your car wherever you please, it turns out, is quite expensive.
“Elected officials are facing the world from the front seat of a car, whether they’re driving or being driven,” Danny Pearlstein, the policy and communications director at Riders Alliance, one of the most forceful proponents of congestion pricing, told me. Pearlstein added that “bureaucrats who drive to work” probably contributed to the Biden administration’s slow-walking of the approval process, or so he suspects. “They were very cautious about doing something that alters not just, you know, air patterns, or patterns of inequity, but actual commutes,” Pearlstein said.
As a reporter who has covered congestion pricing for nearly a decade, I have learned never to underestimate the power of “car brain” on public policy. As a New Yorker who lives steps from the entrance of the Williamsburg Bridge on the Lower East Side, who watches mothers push strollers through oceans of hot, heavy steel boxes belching poisonous gasses driven by people on a hair trigger, and who has seen our leaders pretend that this is New York, that we are too exceptional to change, I cannot help but go about my day, doing my best to tune out the incessant honking, feeling like the dog engulfed in flames: “This is fine.”
That it took transportation advocates, regional planners, and forward-looking politicians nearly 20 years to enact congestion pricing in New York City — the U.S. municipality perhaps most amenable to it because of its housing density and excellent mass transit system — reveals the daunting task of weaning Americans off the automobile. More than three-quarters of us drive our own personal cars to our jobs.
“The only thing that’s going to change the fact that the overwhelming majority of Americans drive to work is not permitting reforms to programs like congestion pricing. It’s permitting reforms to allow dense housing development in metropolitan areas across the country,” Pearlstein said.
“It’s a little bit like a Marxian analysis,” he mused. The crisis must come to a head in order to overthrow the status quo. “In order to adopt congestion pricing, you first have to exacerbate congestion significantly by condensing your built environment.”
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Even though he is partially responsible for them.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
Welcome to August — which, as the political commentator Josh Barro once observed, is the year’s “stupidest news month.” Because Congress goes on recess around this time of year, and so many other Americans go on vacation, “the quantity of serious news structurally declines,” and we journalists have to turn to sillier stories in order to fill the space.
I couldn’t help but think of that post today. As my colleague Matthew Zeitlin covered last week, oil companies recently had a blowout quarter. Last week, Chevron reported its best quarterly earnings result ever, while Exxon announced its largest profit in four years. None of this was a surprise: The Iran war and the Strait of Hormuz’s closure sent oil prices soaring around the world in the spring, making the supermajors’ domestic refinery business especially profitable. Despite its big result, Exxon actually underperformed Wall Street’s expectations — that’s how expected all of this was.
Still, though — the oil companies benefited from a supply shock that was hurting everyone else in the economy. Although this kind of volatility is part and parcel of the commodities business — it is part of what makes commodities so enticing to investors — it is, at the very least, not a good look. And in times like these, progressive policymakers will sometimes call for a windfall profits tax, a one-time levy on large and unexpected profits arising from a situation outside a company’s control. (Centrists and conservatives tend to prefer making different reforms to the tax system that tax “supernormal” profits.)
The United States last imposed a windfall profits tax on oil companies in the 1970s, but other countries still use them today: The U.K. implemented one after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine drove up gas prices in 2022, as did a handful of European countries. More recently, Senator Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island and Representative Ro Khanna of California proposed a windfall tax after gasoline prices shot up in March.
I wouldn’t have counted President Trump among Whitehouse’s and Khanna’s number. Yet speaking to reporters from the Oval Office today, Trump said the oil companies were “making too much money” from the Strait of Hormuz closure.
“Chevron, too much money. ExxonMobil, too much money,” the president said. “When you look at one company where they made 12 times what they made the year before, they ought to give some of that back to the public … And they better cut the retail price, the consumer price.”
He noted that many reporters looked “surprised” he was saying it, but reiterated he “wasn’t happy.”
Now, the president hasn’t quite called for a windfall profits tax — he seems to have something more voluntary in mind. Yet given Trump’s fealty to the industry in virtually every other context, his comments are striking and make his political judgement around the war all the more perplexing. The president chose to go to war with Iran — and the almost certain outcome of that conflict, in any world, was going to be higher oil prices. If anything, the war has moved crude less than analysts would have thought. What was Trump expecting here?
I don’t expect these remarks to usher in some new era of Trumpian policy or politics — this is probably just another silly August story. But they reflect how much the politics of energy have changed since President Trump took office in January 2025. Americans know it, Democrats know it, and President Trump knows it too.
Data centers are a big test for the nascent industry. But they also can’t fill the orderbooks.
For the last few years, there’s been just one story dominating the economy, Silicon Valley, and much of the climate tech world too: artificial intelligence. It has consumed investor’s time and money, leaving relatively little for the rest of the startup ecosystem. But for companies that can hitch themselves to the AI boom and tie their value proposition to the data center buildout, this narrow funding focus can be a tailwind.
The most obvious beneficiaries so far have largely fallen into two camps: startups using AI to build cheaper, better products or those developing technologies to cleanly power data centers themselves. But what about the companies actually manufacturing the physical materials behind these facilities? The data center buildout is ultimately an investment in the physical economy, which largely means an investment in concrete — the most widely used man-made material on Earth.
Cement, the key ingredient that binds concrete together, accounts for 8% of global CO2 emissions, and is a major driver of hyperscaler’s scope 3 emissions. Microsoft and Google’s recent sustainability reports, for example, reveal that their largest emissions category isn’t electricity but “capital goods,” which includes the embodied carbon in their physical assets and infrastructure such as the concrete, steel, server racks, and silicon used to build data centers.
Cement is a big part of that picture because producing it typically requires burning limestone in kilns at extremely high temperatures, a process that both uses large amounts of fossil fuels and releases CO2 through the underlying chemical reaction itself. So if hyperscalers are serious about decarbonization, one might expect them to be pretty interested in startups such as Brimstone, Sublime Systems, and Fortera, each of which is pursuing a different approach to reducing cement’s carbon footprint.
And they are interested. But that alone won’t fill these company’s orderbooks or offset the headwinds generated by the Trump administration rescinding previously obligated grants. That challenge has only been compounded by climate tech’s broader fall from favor as investors chase flashier, more explicitly AI-centric bets.
Still, Cory Waltrip, Sublime’s VP of business development, told me that data centers make a fantastic beachhead market for the company’s low-carbon cement, which it produces through an electrochemical process that eliminates the need for high-temperature kilns. Hyperscalers, he said, have both the market power and financial runway to think long-term about “the way that they’re signing agreements” and “how you can structure those agreements.” Of course, “the balance sheet and the amount of capital that they allocate towards sustainability commitments” doesn’t hurt either.
Last May, Microsoft signed an offtake agreement with Sublime to purchase up to 622,500 metric tons of cement from the company’s future demonstration plant in Holyoke, Massachusetts, as well as a yet-to-be-sited full-scale facility. The deal is unique because it doesn’t require Microsoft to actually use Sublime’s cement in its data centers. Since cement is expensive and impractical to ship long distances, what Microsoft really purchased is the cement’s so-called “environmental attributes,” allowing Sublime to sell the physical product to local customers while Microsoft gets to claim the associated emissions reductions.
It was one of the first deals in the cement industry to decouple the physical product from its environmental benefits. But that good news was quickly overshadowed. Just eight days later, Energy Secretary Chris Wright announced the cancellation of 24 awards from the DOE’s Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations, including a $87 million grant for Sublime and a $189 million grant for Brimstone. That sent Sublime into a tailspin: In December, it paused plans for its demo plant, and in March it laid off roughly two-thirds of its workforce. The company has since filed a suit in the court of federal claims, alleging that the DOE breached its contract with Sublime, but a resolution could take years.
All the cement-hungry data centers in the world would struggle to make up for the loss of that federal funding. Hyperscalers want to buy low-carbon cement from companies that already have a credible pathway to commercial production, not foot the bill for a first-of-a-kind plant.
So Sublime is now pursuing “alternative scale up plans” that don’t involve the Holyoke facility, with Microsoft remaining “a committed customer,” Waltrip said. The most promising option involves co-locating with existing but underutilized standard cement plants in North America or Europe. Doing so could reduce capital costs by roughly 20% to 40%, Waltrip told me. “We can use all of the existing crushing, grinding, finishing, and storage equipment that an existing cement plant already has.”
Building in Europe — something Sublime has yet to commit to but is certainly considering — could also open the door to other non-dilutive public financing, such as the bloc’s roughly €40 billion EU Innovation Fund, which regularly backs industrial decarbonization projects such as low-carbon cement.
In the meantime, the company also says it’s made significant process improvements that could drastically change the scale at which it builds plants. While former CEO Leah Ellis described Sublime’s future commercial facility as a “megaton-scale plant,” Sublime now thinks it could economically produce the material in 50,000 to 250,000 metric tons-per-year facilities. These smaller plants would be far easier to finance without relying on large government grants, Waltrip told me.
Sublime is exploring multiple other undisclosed data center engagements as well, as Waltrip revealed that “we’ve completed materials testing with at least one hyperscaler. We’ve completed a concrete demonstration pour with another hyperscaler,” and “we’ve negotiated or are in the process of negotiating commercial agreements with other hyperscalers beyond Microsoft.”
The company also conducted a small test pour of its low-carbon concrete last year with STACK Infrastructure, a data center developer that leases out its facilities. But while the material has exceeded performance standards, STACK is unlikely to become a customer anytime soon. “If we had a commercial plant ready to go, I think we would be having no issues with finding customers for that product,” Waltrip told me. The challenge is that developers outside the major hyperscalers typically lack the financial flexibility to sign long-term offtake agreements for a product that may not reach meaningful scale until the mid-2030s.
So for now, Google, Microsoft, Meta, and Amazon remain the most sought-after buyers.
Brimstone, another low-carbon cement company, also landed a major hyperscaler deal last year. The company, which still uses kilns but replaces limestone with carbon-free calcium silicate rocks in its production process, agreed to supply Amazon with an undisclosed amount of cement and supplementary cementitious materials, which can partially replace cement in concrete. CEO Cody Finke told me he couldn’t share any additional details, including the volume of materials reserved or when he expects deliveries to begin, though he readily acknowledges the impact of the data center boom.
“There’s no question that the data center buildout has increased the demand for these materials,” Finke told me. Early last year, the company announced that it’s also figured out how to adapt its process to produce alumina — the refined material that smelters turn into aluminum. Data centers also use this metal throughout their operations in structural panels, server racks, and cooling systems. Eventually, the company says it will be able to make additional critical minerals and materials including steel, magnesium, and titanium.
For now though, Brimstone is working to complete construction of its demo plant in Reno, Nevada, which the company recently said it expects to be operational in 2028. Finke was somewhat more cautious, however, telling me only that it should come online by “the end of the decade.” The company’s first full-scale plant, the location of which it’s yet to announce, is slated to begin operations around 2034, producing 350,000 metric tons of alumina and an undisclosed amount of cement and other materials.
But like Sublime, Brimstone also lost a major source of federal support when the Trump administration rescinded its $189 million DOE grant, which was intended to finance construction of the demo plant. Finke, however, insisted this hasn’t altered the company’s timeline because Brimstone, having netted over $80 million to date, “had effectively raised the money that we needed, regardless of the grant.”
Finke isn’t relying on the goodwill of hyperscalers either, even though many do appear willing to pay a green premium in order to align with their ambitious, if flailing, decarbonization agendas. “To be frank, I don’t think that it’s that important to the transition whether or not those climate policies exist, because the companies that really matter are going to be cheaper anyway,” he told me.
Brimstone, he argues, is one of those companies. By co-producing multiple products at once, each can effectively offset the cost of the others, and Finke expects even the cement produced at the Reno demo plant to sell at standard market rates. Ultimately, while he sees growth in the data center industry as a tailwind, he doesn’t think Brimstone depends on that market, noting these facilities still only account for a small sliver of global cement demand. The company’s primary customers, he said, will ultimately be traditional buyers: concrete producers purchasing cement and aluminum smelters buying alumina.
Yet data centers willing to negotiate multi-year contracts still represent uniquely valuable first customers in an industry where such agreements are exceedingly rare. Instead, producers typically sell cement into a merchant spot market, where buyers purchase from whatever supplier meets their myriad requirements at the time. But that leaves low-carbon materials startups in a bind, Fortera’s CEO Ryan Gilliam told me. “When you’re trying to bring a new technology to market like us, you typically use offtake agreements to get project financing to justify building up big projects,” he explained. Potential investors simply want to see demonstrated future demand.
Fortera, which has raised about $150 million and has an operational pilot plant in California, captures the CO2 emitted from conventional cement production and converts it into a mineral form that then becomes part of the cement itself. Last year, it secured a strategic investment from Microsoft’s Climate Innovation Fund to help finance its first commercial-scale facility, expected to produce 400,000 tons of cement per year. In return, the tech giant secured the right to procure Fortera’s low-carbon cement and its associated environmental attribute certificates — more of a reservation than the binding offtake contract it signed with Sublime.
Just one plant of this size “would meet all the hyperscalers’ needs easily,” Gilliam told me, underlining Finke’s point that data centers will by no means represent a cement company’s largest buyer long-term. “Most hyperscalers, you’re talking maybe upwards of 100,000 tons a year of requirements around cement, and that might even be at the upper end,” Gilliam explained. By comparison, standard cement plants typically produce about a million tons of product annually.
So while Gilliam and others are happy to ride the AI boom, they also recognize that data centers are likely more valuable as an early market signal than a long-term source of demand. Even now, it remains unclear whether the boom is even a net positive for the sector as a whole.
“The number of AI startups and the amount of money that’s been diverted into that space definitely changed the pool of investors that you can go to right now,” Gilliam told me. And that’s the core paradox. The data center boom has become one of the clean cement industry’s most promising early markets and one of its fiercest competitors for capital. Welcome to the AI economy.
The energy developer is backing off after a Heatmap report.
Clearway says it is backing off its plans to build a data center and gas power plant on federal land, days after Heatmap revealed the energy developer’s proposal.
Last week, I reported that Clearway asked the Trump administration’s Bureau of Land Management to swap a five year-old application for a solar farm’s permits with “a proposed data center and natural gas facility.” Clearway’s chief development officer John Woody had written in a letter to BLM dated April 3 that the swap was “the result of a shift in our internal development priorities” and intended “to better align with the goals of our Administration.” He also noted the plans were in “exploratory early stages.”
This news fit a trend. I obtained Clearway’s letter right after reporting on a different solar project on federal land that was being swapped for a data center. But it turns out, the company’s internal thinking continued to shift: on Friday, they reached out to me saying they are now nixing the data center and gas plant, after concluding it wasn’t the right call for their business.
“Since our initial filing, we’ve evaluated how to make the best use of this public land in a way that serves its intended purpose: the public interest. As a clean energy developer and operator, our focus in Nevada remains solar and battery storage,” Clearway said in a statement it provided to me from an unnamed spokesperson. “We are in the process of amending our application to reflect the state’s growing demand for low-cost, reliable energy.”
In addition, Clearway on Monday sent a letter to BLM formally alerting the agency it has no plans to build the data center, which it also provided to me.
When I first broke news of Clearway’s plans, I said it was an apparent aberration – they oversaw relatively few fossil projects and had never worked in data centers. I chalked this pivot up to yet another energy developer changing its tune with the winds of national politics. Now that the company is apparently sticking to its guns, I’m mostly just left wondering what happened here – and relieved some still remain committed to zero-emissions power in the booming business of electrons.