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If one were to go looking for a Permian Basin of wind — a wind energy superregion waiting to be born — the actual Permian Basin wouldn’t be a bad place to start.
Wind potential is everywhere in the U.S., off the coasts and in the Mountain West especially, and the Inflation Reduction Act is expected to catalyze 127 gigawatts of onshore wind by 2030, some of which has already been built. It’s Texas, however, that produces more wind power than any other state in the country. And while neighboring New Mexico has fewer turbines, it was one of the country’s leading installers of utility-scale wind in 2021; last month, Pattern Energy announced it had closed financing on SunZia, a long-awaited 3.5 GW wind farm about three hours northwest of the Permian Basin’s New Mexico portion. Once it’s completed, the project will make the state a national leader in installed capacity.
Texas and New Mexico have, respectively, the most and third-most potential wind capacity in the country. While the bulk of jobs created by wind farms come during their construction, turbines still require long-term maintenance and operation — “Jiffy Lube 300 feet in the air,” Andy Swapp, a faculty member at Mesalands Community College’s Wind Energy Technology program in Tucumcarie, New Mexico, called it. According to data from Revelio Labs, a workforce tracking company, more than 20% of wind jobs created in the past year were in Texas.
There’s no comprehensive estimate of how many wind technicians will be necessary to serve America’s wind farms by 2030, but we can make some educated guesses. In 2022, 11,200 Americans worked as wind technicians, with just under half of them in Texas, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, servicing a total of 144 GW of capacity (including a negligible amount of offshore wind) — about 0.08 jobs per megawatt. (Other estimates range from 0.1-10.8 permanent jobs per megawatt.)
By that math, just for the buildout of onshore wind spurred by the IRA — and leaving aside the 30 GW of offshore wind that the Biden administration has pledged to build by 2030 — the U.S. will need nearly 10,000 new wind technicians, a fair chunk of whom will be living, spending, and paying taxes in New Mexico and Texas.
Regardless of how the actual numbers shake out (many technicians travel between sites, almost everyone who I spoke with for this story told me), they raise a thorny question: How can the nascent wind industry nearly double the size of its workforce in a matter of years — especially where the industry is already strong?
In and around the Permian Basin, onshore wind is primed for a breakout. SunZia’s turbines will sit about 200 miles away from New Mexico’s Lea and Eddy counties, which account for 29% of the Permian Basin’s oil production. Slightly northwest of Lea is the Oso Grande Project, with 247 MW of wind power; Sweetwater, Texas, is surrounded by wind projects ranging from around 40 to 420 MW. The Permian Basin itself has plentiful wind — more than 2 GW — but there is broad agreement that much more of the area is ripe for wind projects.
All of these wind farms, of course, will need technicians, along with managers and operations and maintenance personnel. Pattern, a spokesperson told me, will “prioritize local vendors, suppliers and workforce,” and is building out its own GWO — short for Global Wind Organisation training, which has become an industry standard certification for working at heights — with training partners for SunZia, which promises more than 100 full-time jobs.
To work as an entry-level wind technician, the company asks for a one-year college or technical school certificate, or else a similar amount of experience in wind-power or other related training programs, or some combination of the two. Other employers in the area make similar asks, though a handful require just a high school diploma.
When more wind farms arrive, locals in West Texas looking for local training programs will have a handful of options, including a course at Texas Tech, a paid training institution, and a few community colleges with wind training, four of which are west of San Antonio.
As of summer 2023, roughly 200 students were enrolled in Texas State Technical College programs, Jones told me, and around 75% of them are on some form of financial aid to cover the $13,000 tuition for the 20-month course. Texas’s powerhouse for creating technicians doesn’t always serve its own state, or even the wind industry. Jones’s students don’t always go into wind — some even go into oil and gas — and they don’t always stay in Texas.
Texas Tech’s wind energy program is robust, Suhas Pol, the director of the university’s renewable energy programs, told me, but it’s primarily aimed at sending students into project management, development and engineering. As of this year, he estimated around 100 students are majoring in renewables, but he thinks awareness on campus is low. Pol and his fellow administrators have conjectured that “many folks are not aware that there is such a program available,” he said.
By next academic year, the university is planning to launch a course that offers additional qualifications for students who want to expand on their associates’ degrees, Pol added. Still, he thinks the field as a whole suffers from a lack of faculty to teach students — because so few people enter the industry, not enough can teach others how to join.
Adrian Cadena’s career path is pretty typical of wind technicians in the U.S., at least according to the BLS. Cadena, a former paramedic in San Antonio, was exhausted by the COVID-19 pandemic. While on a road trip in Texas, he wound up pulling over and walking into the middle of a wind farm, where he took out a cell phone and called his wife. “I said, ‘I think I’m done with medicine,’” Cadena told me. “My wife said, ‘I think you’ve lost your mind.’”
While working at a local hospital, Cadena completed a wind training program at a community college. At a clean energy career fair, he landed a job in safety at a small firm based near Houston. That firm paid for his GWOs. Soon after, an opportunity came up at Vestas Wind Systems — one of the industry’s giants — to work as a traveling safety contractor. Then last summer, the call came from another contractor to serve as a project manager on the safety side for Vineyard Wind, one of the country’s first large-scale offshore wind farms, which began delivering electricity just this week.
The federal government is also considering laying its own paths, as evidenced by the launch of the American Climate Corps in September; its first cohort could start as soon as this summer. Other roads leading to wind farms can pass through union-based apprenticeships, although those generally create “well-rounded electricians,” not necessarily wind specialists, according to Bo Delp, executive director of the Texas Climate Jobs Project.
Still, people who understand electronics are in high demand. Many job openings on Indeed across Texas this summer noted that a certification or degree in wind energy is preferred, while experience with mechanics and electronics is typically required, even for entry-level positions. George Jackiewicz, a safety coordinator currently based in Long Island who has worked around the country, told me that “if you’ve got common sense, some mechanical skills, a little bit of electrical, you can get in with zero experience.”
Companies, he explained, will train their own workers, including through their own apprenticeships. In conjunction with Vestas, Sky Climber Renewables runs TOP Technicians. The program finishes out three weeks of training with an assignment at a Vestas wind project. As Jones said, in earlier times “you just came in off the street, they gave you an electrical test and an aptitude test. If you could pass both of those, they could find a place for you. Now there’s more to it.”
In New Mexico, three institutions teach future wind technicians, but only Mesalands has a dedicated wind program and turbine, graduating roughly 20 students each semester, Andy Swapp told me. Unlike TSTC, Mesalands doesn’t give students their GWO certifications, though climbing towers is part of the curriculum.
While TSTC’s Jones doesn’t have much of a recruiting operation, Swapp runs a full-court press, including online ads and trips to high schools for “kid wind” competitions to design turbines, on top of word-of-mouth recruiting from previous students.
“The hardest part of this job is filling the classroom,” Swapp said. “I think if we could fill our classroom every semester, we could meet the need.”
In Lea County, 180 miles away from Mesalands, wind training is scarce, said Jennifer Grassham, president and CEO of the local economic development corporation. She thinks it has to do with demand — too few projects nearby to spur the need for trained technicians.
Meanwhile, a well-coordinated economic engine brings people into oil and gas in Hobbs, the county’s largest city, with 5,808 residents employed in the industry. New recruits can easily find training through company-sponsored programs (the industry norm, according to Grassham); New Mexico Junior College, located conveniently in town; or even the city’s technical high school, which offers “very specific oil and gas training,” Grassham explained.
Individuals interested in entering the field can also easily get a certification ahead of time. One method is to take an online course for around $600 from the University of Texas’s Petroleum Extension, which includes about a week’s worth of work.
“To get a job on a rig is fairly easy,” John Scannell, PETEX’s operations manager, said. “The companies that hire for those jobs, they don’t expect a lot of existing knowledge, so I know a lot of the drilling companies will hire people if they just take our basic overview of working on a rig.”
Lea County’s economic development council is thinking about wind and solar development, Grassham noted, but conversations about the workforce haven’t begun. If more wind farms like SunZia pop up offering hundreds of jobs, that might spur those conversations. “I think we still respond to supply and demand,” she said. “If there was a density around the demand for wind-related job training, the junior college would stand up a wind program almost overnight.”
Even when the demand arrives, workers may still face challenges. Some wind industry workers I spoke to for this story told me they struggled to secure raises, even with years of training and experience. “We really have to take a step back and think about how this transition is going to happen in a way that produces a more resilient economy,” Delp said. “If we build this transition on the backs of workers, we are going to be dealing with the political and economic consequences of that for decades.”
But presuming the industry can train enough people and keep them happy, every person I spoke to emphasized the same thing: Wind jobs are good jobs, especially if working at heights is a thrill and not a deterrent.
Jackiewicz — skeptical that the labor force as a whole will meet the moment at the pace required — is still a booster. “This is the only place I know that where someone without a high school education can earn six digits a year,” he said. “People I meet, I encourage them — ‘hey if you’ve got common sense, you can make a lot of money.’ I would recommend it as long as it’s here. Clean money, dirty hands.”
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The CEO of Cleveland-Cliffs cast doubt on a new mill funded in part by $500 million in federal grants. What does that say about corporate commitments to decarbonization?
American steelmaker Cleveland-Cliffs cast doubt last week on the country’s most important green steel project. Chief executive Lourenco Goncalves suggested in an interview that the company was considering passing up $500 million of federal grants to build a new hydrogen-powered mill at its Middletown Works facility in Ohio, blaming fears that there won’t be buyers for the lower-carbon product, which he claimed could cost 40% more to produce than steel made by conventional methods. Cleveland-Cliffs later issued a short press release walking back Goncalves’s comments and reaffirming its commitment to the “transformational” project.
It’s, of course, possible that Goncalves was just expressing personal concerns that do not reflect the company’s official position. But either way, those doubts were not only real, but revealing about our prospects for decarbonization by mid-century.
First, the episode is a stark indictment of the many attempts to create demand for cleaner products by conjuring up corporate ambition on climate change. The entire rationale for cajoling corporations to quantify the emissions in their supply chains, known as Scope 3 emissions, has been to pressure them into sourcing greener inputs. The steel sector produces 7% to 9% of emissions globally: if it were a country, it would be the world’s third-biggest emitter after the United States and China. And steel represents the biggest single source of Scope 3 emissions for many companies in other industries — on the order of 40% to 45% for auto companies and as high as 85% for construction, for example. This makes steel a litmus test for whether Scope 3 footprinting and corporate commitments to green their supply chains are delivering as promised.
Worse, these types of steel buyers have ostensibly already been organized to show demand for green inputs. Before he stepped down as President Biden’s special envoy for climate, one of John Kerry’s cornerstone initiatives was the First Mover’s Coalition, an effort to secure advanced purchasing commitments from corporate buyers for green steel and other industrial materials. The fact that the coalition’s members – many of which are major steel buyers like Ford and General Motors – were not publically jumping all over the outputs of Cleveland-Cliffs’s heavily subsidized project is itself troubling. After all, while the green premium on steel may be significant, the material is typically a relatively cheap input into much more expensive, high value-added products.
Goncalves’s comments also underscore how uncomfortable incumbent industries perceive the jump to new, low-carbon products to be. Assume that the new Cleveland-Cliffs mill does in fact pencil out at the cost originally expected and that it has a reasonable prospect of finding offtakers. The company still says it has to invest $1.1 billion to complete the project. It is not really enough, in the logic of the market, for that investment to be profitable: It has to compete against the opportunity cost of alternative investments, including manufacturing conventional steel. Even if both outputs would find buyers, conventional steel may still be more profitable.
Now imagine the company is looking at the larger direction of the industry. If they don’t do this project, they may well forestall a shift to cleaner steel and be able to keep the sector chugging along more profitably for a little longer. Complete the project, and they may bring about changes that, while maybe inevitable, are uncomfortable for the industry. After all, Cleveland-Cliffs and U.S. Steel produce the vast majority of American primary steel; they are steel production in the United States – and so they get to shape its transformation.
This behavior is similar to that of the American car industry. U.S. automakers have largely conceded that electric vehicles will eventually overtake their combustion-engine counterparts, but they are still clinging to the better margins that gas-powered SUVs provide. The short-term profits are hard to pass up, even if it means getting farther behind EV first-movers like Tesla, BYD, and Hyundai. Once the technology pathway to a sector’s transition becomes clear — even when it feels inevitable — incumbents may still have an extremely hard time ripping off the bandaid.
It’s as if decarbonization is a massive marshmallow test for corporate America, and it’s failing.
There are essentially two ways out of this dilemma.
The first is that society will need to rely on new entrants to each sector to disrupt the status quo. Companies developing entirely novel steelmaking technologies like Boston Metals become more important to the steel transition than Cleveland-Cliffs, just as Tesla has been to the American EV market. Sublime Systems may be vital for green cement, just as Fervo Energy may be for enhanced geothermal. The problem with this approach is that it is extremely expensive to build projects in heavy industries like steel, so most pathways assume that even technology developed outside of the incumbents will get deployed by them (Sublime just this week announced a tie-up with cement giant Holcim).
This leads to option two: comprehensive industrial policy. Cleveland-Cliffs may want to see not only that one green project pencils out, but that strategic opportunities and risks favor going green. This might means measures like implementing a U.S. carbon border adjustment mechanism (CBAM) to prevent foreign competitors from dumping dirty steel, the government guaranteeing offtake using public procurement programs like Buy Clean and Contracts for Difference, and ultimately policy sticks like carbon pricing that send a long-term signal favoring clean products over polluting ones, instead of relying on corporate social responsibility for a demand signal.
To decarbonize the economy, we will probably have to rely both on more robust industrial policy and the sector disruption from new entrants. While the story of this Cleveland-Cliffs project is far from over, the company’s apparent hesitancy, like that of U.S. automakers, may be teaching us a lesson that we have to learn quickly if we want to see decarbonization any time soon.
On major nuclear news, the Doomsday Glacier, and Canada’s emissions
Current conditions: Cleanup efforts have begun in Italy’s washed out Emilia-Romagna region • Endangered freshwater dolphins are washing ashore at Brazil’s Lake Tefe as water levels recede due to drought • The Colorado Rockies could see some snow this weekend.
We’ll start with some breaking news today: Pennsylvania’s Three Mile Island nuclear plant, the site of an infamous 1979 partial reactor meltdown, will be revived by 2028 as part of a plan to provide power for Microsoft’s data centers. Constellation Energy, the plant’s owner and the largest nuclear operator in the country, announced the news today. Microsoft agreed to buy all of the plant’s power for 20 years – enough energy to power 800,000 homes.
If approved, this decision “would mark a bold advance in the tech industry’s quest to find enough electric power to support its boom in artificial intelligence,” The Washington Post reported. “The symbolism is enormous,” Joseph Dominguez, chief executive of Constellation, toldThe New York Times. “This was the site of the industry’s greatest failure, and now it can be a place of rebirth.”
“Now, THIS is additional clean supply,” said Heatmap Shift Key co-host Jesse Jenkins. “Bravo. It is remarkable to see a handful of nuclear reactors shuttered in the last decade due to poor revenues contemplating restart now. Palisades, now TMI. Who is next? Maybe it was unwise to let these plants close in the fist place eh?”
The World Bank Group yesterday announced it delivered a record $42.6 billion in climate finance in fiscal year 2024 (which ran from July to June), a 10% increase year-over-year. Climate financing made up 44% of the group’s total lending, which is awfully close to its goal, set at COP28, of 45% for fiscal year 2025. However this remains “well short of the trillions of dollars in additional resources needed annually to finance the clean energy transition in emerging markets and developing countries,” notedReuters.
Carbon removal startup Equatic announced it has started manufacturing its “oxygen-selective anode,” which has the potential to pave the way for a two-for-one climate solution: commercial hydrogen production and carbon removal. Equatic wants to use seawater electrolysis – sending an electrical current through seawater – to sequester carbon dioxide from the air in the ocean while also producing hydrogen. But as Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo reported, electrolysis tends to turn the salt in the water into the toxic and corrosive gas chlorine, which makes commercializing such a process challenging. So Equatic set out to find the right combination of catalysts to make an anode – a sheet of conductive, positively-charged metal – that, when used in electrolysis, would screen out the salt and not allow it to react. Using ARPA-E funding, they landed on a design that produced less than one part per million of chlorine (lower than the amount in drinking water) and performed reliably for more than 20,000 hours of testing.
The company’s San Francisco facility will be able to produce 4,000 of these anodes per year to start, and is expected to operate at full capacity by the end of 2024. It will produce the anodes for Equatic’s first demonstration-scale project, a new plant in Singapore designed to remove 10 metric tons of CO2 and produce 300 kilograms of hydrogen per day — 100 times larger than the pilot version. Equatic also has plans to build an even bigger plant in Quebec that can remove 300 tons per day. That’s about three times the capacity of Climeworks’ Mammoth plant, the world’s largest direct air capture plant operating today.
Scientists who spent six years examining the Thwaites Glacier in Antarctica warned this week that the outlook for the glacier is “grim.” Thwaites, often referred to as the “Doomsday Glacier,” is massive, spanning an area equal to the state of Florida. It has been retreating for nearly a century, but this melting has accelerated significantly over the last 30 years and the new research suggests it is set to worsen. Within 200 years, the glacier could collapse, raising sea levels worldwide. CNN succinctly summarized why this matters:
“Thwaites holds enough water to increase sea levels by more than 2 feet. But because it also acts like a cork, holding back the vast Antarctic ice sheet, its collapse could ultimately lead to around 10 feet of sea level rise, devastating coastal communities from Miami and London to Bangladesh and the Pacific Islands.”
Dr. Ted Scambos, U.S. science coordinator of the International Thwaites Glacier Collaboration and glaciologist at the University of Colorado, said “immediate and sustained climate intervention will have a positive effect, but a delayed one.”
ITGC
A sweeping new report from the World Resources Institute paints a bleak picture of what 996 of the world’s biggest cities will feel like in a world that is 1.5 degrees Celsius warmer than pre-industrial records, and compares that to a scenario in which temperatures warm by 3 degrees Celsius. Here are some stats:
The report also looks at what warmer temperatures mean for mosquito-borne diseases. Some, like dengue, Zika, and West Nile, will become more common. But malaria could actually decline “as temperatures in many places become warmer than what is optimal for malaria-transmitting mosquitos.”
Canada’s carbon emissions dropped last year for the first time since the pandemic, falling 0.8% between 2022 and 2023.
It’s tough out there for an electric truck.
Rivian’s R1T was the showpiece that launched the company; I was blown away the moment I saw its concept version at a car show in the 2010s. But the truck’s sales are down 38% over last year as the R1S SUV becomes the brand’s signature vehicle. Ford has found some footing with the F-150 Lightning, but is lowering expectations for the vehicle as Detroit faces fierce headwinds trying to convince its legion of truck drivers to go electric — and backtracks toward plug-in hybrids. The category leader in sales, the Tesla Cybertruck, exists primarily to inspire TikTok derision, which would be easier to swallow if its sales, while rising, didn’t pale in comparison to the Model Y and 3.
There are practical reasons for sluggish truck sales — the SUV shape is more useful than a pickup truck for the kinds of people currently buying EVs. There are political reasons, of course. Even with Donald Trump’s softening his EV hatred thanks to support from Elon Musk, lots of pickup drivers remain electric-averse. There are financial reasons, since many of the electric truck offerings to date are staggeringly expensive. Above these concerns floats a broader, more all-consuming problem: Maybe it’s just not the right time to make an all-electric truck, at least not the monstrous kind America buys.
Lucid’s CEO recently remarked on this idea in response to drawings of a theoretical Lucid pickup circulating on the internet. Despite America’s insatiable appetite for pickups, the company is absolutely not making a truck right now, he said.
His rationale boils down to the conundrum for today’s EVs: Vehicles of all stripes have been getting bigger as American drivers choose crossovers, SUVs, and trucks. Since those are the shapes Americans want, and want to pay extra for, those are the kinds of EVs carmakers want to sell. But a larger EV is a less efficient one. It takes lots of energy to move a heavy vehicle, which means they need huge batteries just to achieve a normal driving range.
As I noted earlier this month, Lucid has been counterculturally hyper-focused on making efficient vehicles that can maximize range. Its Air sedans achieve an industry-leading 4 miles per kilowatt-hour of electricity, which lets the cars claim more than 400 miles per charge despite having a battery of average size. The excellent but heavyweight R1T is only about half as efficient. You can buy one with 420 miles of range, but doing so requires an enormous and expensive battery pack.
Weight alone is not the only issue. Pickup owners — even those who never stray from the smooth pavement of the suburbs — want their vehicles to be able to tow a boat or tackle the Rubicon trail. Towing with an EV dings the driving range that’s already low because of the vehicle’s heft. Knowing that, Lucid CTO and CEO Peter Rawlinson estimated the minimum battery size threshold for a workable electric pickup at 150 kilowatt-hours — nearly double the size of the 84-kilowatt hour battery that powers the simplest Lucid Air, and well past the 118-kilowatt hour pack in the long range Grand Touring edition. Given the cost of today’s batteries and their physical limitations, it’s simply difficult to make the math work for the kind of megavehicle that full-size pickups have become.
Downsizing the truck would help, of course. It’d be much easier, and cheaper, to fully electrify something the size and weight of the Chevy S-10. However, the chorus of car enthusiasts and compact truck fans calling for the pickup to return to its reasonably sized roots has been drowned out by all the money Detroit is making on monster trucks. Don’t pin your hopes there.
But just because the full-size EV pickup is in a tough spot now doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way. The battery calculus will change as technologies improve and economies of scale emerge. At some point, it might be possible to squeeze 150 or 200 kilowatt-hours of juice into a not-gargantuan battery pack, and to build it for less than a small fortune, at which point the fully electric F-150 or Silverado becomes a far more attractive proposition.
The more immediate solution, though, is the ongoing rise of the hybrid. Trucks make terrific hybrids. The hybrid version of the current Ford F-150 has plenty of power and driving range for serious work or play, and also gets 25 miles per gallon in the city compared to 18-20 mpg for combustion-only trucks. If that doesn’t sound like a lot, remember that when it comes to cutting fossil fuels consumption and emissions, improving gas-guzzlers by a little can be more powerful than improving already-efficient cars by a lot. (With mpg, it’s better to go from bad to decent than from good to great. It’s a bad statistic.)
Crucially for the potential to cut the carbon emissions of America’s truck fleet, conventional hybrids are less weighed down by a feeling of foreignness and political baggage. There was a time when vehicles like the Prius were the peak of conspicuous car consumption for lefty greens. Now a slew of vehicles, including trucks, come in hybrid configurations (and some cars, like the Toyota Camry, have ditched combustion-only models altogether). A hybrid is just a car, one you can pump gas into and drive without thinking too much about the partisan implications of its powertrain.
The idea of plug-in hybrid full-size trucks is alluring, too. Owners could live out the fantasy of driving a weekend warrior 4x4 — and enjoy the in-group signaling that comes with pickup ownership — all while using electricity for the local driving that makes up most of their actual transportation needs. Perhaps someday we could even get Heatmap’s dream vehicle, a plug-in hybrid version of the reasonably sized Ford Maverick.
Trucks are good candidates for unusual hybrid configurations, too. This week, some American reviewers tested, and loved, the BYD Shark, a Chinese-made pickup on sale in Mexico but not here. The Shark’s hybrid setup is a range extender, meaning that although the gas engine can drive the front wheels in some situations, it exists primarily to charge a generator that powers electric motors, and those motors push the vehicle. Its battery pack can hold enough energy for an estimated 60 miles of electric driving.
The Shark won’t swim to America, given the ongoing tariffs battle. But it doesn’t have to. For 2025, Ram has promised us the Ramcharger extended-range pickup that puts this tech into a truck Americans can buy. Heatmap’s Jesse Jenkins called it an “ideal near-term product to satisfy some of the trickiest American market segments to electrify: namely the uniquely American demand for full-size pickups and massive SUVs.”
Indeed, if truck shoppers give this new kind of electrified vehicle a chance, they’re going to like what they find.