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A little-known grant program in the Inflation Reduction Act is spurring almost every state to make a climate plan.

To date, less than half of all states have set forth targets to reduce their greenhouse gas emissions. Within two years, almost all of them will have official climate goals. Even Texas, even West Virginia, even Wyoming.
It’s already been a big year for climate action in states where the issue has been a nonstarter politically. The Inflation Reduction Act, the historic climate package that Biden signed last year, has brought billions of dollars in investment and tens of thousands of new jobs in clean energy manufacturing to places like Georgia. But that state’s governor, Brian Kemp, has managed to champion the economic opportunity without mentioning climate change. Now, his administration is gearing up for its first-ever climate plan.
That’s thanks to a program in the IRA that has flown mostly under the radar called the Climate Pollution Reduction Grants. It earmarked $3 million each for all 50 states, plus Washington, D.C. and Puerto Rico, to produce a comprehensive climate action plan.
The grants are noncompetitive, and states could access the funding simply by opting in. All but four — South Dakota, Kentucky, Florida, and Iowa — said yes, please.
By taking the money, the states agreed to produce an inventory of their greenhouse gas emissions and a list of actions they might take to reduce them, due to the Environmental Protection Agency by March. This is already a meaningful change — many states don’t regularly track or publish data about where their emissions are coming from. Then, in 2025, recipients will have to follow up with a much more detailed plan that includes projections of future emissions if the plan is followed, an analysis of benefits for disadvantaged communities, and workforce planning needs. Their plans will also have to include greenhouse gas reduction goals in line with the Biden administration’s commitment to reduce emissions 50% from 2005 levels by 2030.
For many states, that extra funding could go a long way. While some like California and New York have hundreds of staffers working on emission reduction plans, others may have a dozen or fewer. They haven’t had the capacity to do the data collection, modeling, and community engagement work that emissions inventorying, climate goal-setting, and action planning require. Now, fiscally constrained state environmental agencies will be able to hire extra staff and consultants. That extra support can also help states develop strategies to unlock more federal funding from the dozens of other programs in the IRA.
“A lot of the federal policy conversation is shaped by what happens in states,” Justin Balik, the state program director for the advocacy group Evergreen Action, which fought for this program to be included in the IRA, told me. “And so we saw this opportunity to continue to cement this role that states can play in continuing to drive the ball forward.”
Balik pointed out the funding is especially meaningful in states like Wisconsin, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania, where the governors in office want to be climate champions and have already made substantial climate plans but are hamstrung by conservative legislatures unwilling to fund them.
North Carolina, for example, recently completed a report modeling pathways it could take to achieve Gov. Roy Cooper’s goal of cutting emissions in half by 2030, and reaching net-zero by 2050. Bailey Recktenwald, the climate change policy advisor for the North Carolina governor’s office, told me that the state will use the new grant to do additional analysis of the solutions identified in that report, weighing factors like environmental justice, to determine “which of these recommendations we’ve already put together will get the most bang for our buck.”
Of course, a plan is meaningless without the willpower and funding to act on it, and there’s no requirement for states to fulfill their plans or achieve their goals. A number of states that accepted the planning grants, including Montana and New Hampshire, have made climate action plans in the past, only to let them sit on a shelf. And this could all be moot if a Republican wins in 2024 and shifts priorities at the EPA.
But the EPA’s program dangles a carrot for states to treat the planning process as a starting point — additional funding. Once they’ve submitted their priority plans, states can apply for a second round of grants for implementation. Unlike the planning grants, these are competitive. The EPA has $4.6 billion to hand out in chunks of between $2 million and $500 million for projects that reduce emissions.
That could mean — almost literally — anything. The grants could go toward a one-off project, like replacing a coal plant, or installing carbon capture on a cement plant. They could go toward programs designed to achieve sector-wide goals, like rebates for electric vehicles. Or they could be used for regional partnerships. States in the Northeast, for instance, could go in together on a program to subsidize the beleaguered offshore wind industry. Or they could work together to fund interstate transmission lines that will free up more room for renewables on the grid.
Recktenwald told me one opportunity for North Carolina might be to create incentives to cut emissions from trucks and buses. Cooper had hoped to enact clean truck regulations this year, which a number of other states have adopted, but the legislature prohibited him from doing so. “Now we’re looking for other creative ways to still move that industry and market forward,” Recktenwald said.
The grants’ flexibility leaves room for a range of outcomes — for better and for worse. The think tank RMI is encouraging states and the EPA to consider the timescales required to cut emissions from different sources. “When states are awarded money, it should be based upon how quickly they can move — how relevant a state’s suggested plan of action is to its unique situation,” Drew Veysey, a senior associate at RMI, told me.
It would be more effective for states with a lot of coal plants to use the funding to replace them than to create incentive programs for electric vehicles or heat pumps, for example. When you shut down a coal plant and replace it with clean power, those emissions stop immediately. But if a state starts encouraging the adoption of EVs, it will still have millions of previously sold gas cars driving around for the next 15 years or more. Scientific modeling efforts agree that most, if not all coal plants will have to shut down in the next decade in order to achieve Biden’s 2030 goal.
That may not be on the table in a coal-reliant state like West Virginia or Wyoming; states where climate change is still controversial are already being careful in their public messaging around the program. Montana’s Department of Environmental Quality, for one, has stressed that it’s looking at “non-regulatory, innovative, voluntary” approaches for the program. The Tennessee Department of Environment and Conservation created a video about the program that doesn’t once mention climate change. Good luck trying to avoid it forever, though — the program is literally titled “climate pollution reduction grants.”
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There has been no new nuclear construction in the U.S. since Vogtle, but the workers are still plenty busy.
The Trump administration wants to have 10 new large nuclear reactors under construction by 2030 — an ambitious goal under any circumstances. It looks downright zany, though, when you consider that the workforce that should be driving steel into the ground, pouring concrete, and laying down wires for nuclear plants is instead building and linking up data centers.
This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Thousands of people, from construction laborers to pipefitters to electricians, worked on the two new reactors at the Plant Vogtle in Georgia, which were intended to be the start of a sequence of projects, erecting new Westinghouse AP1000 reactors across Georgia and South Carolina. Instead, years of delays and cost overruns resulted in two long-delayed reactors 35 miles southeast of Augusta, Georgia — and nothing else.
“We had challenges as we were building a new supply chain for a new technology and then workforce,” John Williams, an executive at Southern Nuclear Operating Company, which owns over 45% of Plant Vogtle, said in a webinar hosted by the environmental group Resources for the Future in October.
“It had been 30 years since we had built a new nuclear plant from scratch in the United States. Our workforce didn’t have that muscle memory that they have in other parts of the world, where they have been building on a more regular frequency.”
That workforce “hasn’t been building nuclear plants” since heavy construction stopped at Vogtle in 2023, he noted — but they have been busy “building data centers and car manufacturing in Georgia.”
Williams said that it would take another “six to 10” AP1000 projects for costs to come down far enough to make nuclear construction routine. “If we were currently building the next AP1000s, we would be farther down that road,” he said. “But we’ve stopped again.”
J.R. Richardson, business manager and financial secretary of the International Brotherhood of Electric Workers Local 1579, based in Augusta, Georgia, told me his union “had 2,000 electricians on that job,” referring to Vogtle. “So now we have a skill set with electricians that did that project. If you wait 20 or 30 years, that skill set is not going to be there anymore.”
Richardson pointed to the potential revitalization of the failed V.C. Summer nuclear project in South Carolina, saying that his union had already been reached out to about it starting up again. Until then, he said, he had 350 electricians working on a Meta data center project between Augusta and Atlanta.
“They’re all basically the same,” he told me of the data center projects. “They’re like cookie cutter homes, but it’s on a bigger scale.”
To be clear, though the segue from nuclear construction to data center construction may hold back the nuclear industry, it has been great for workers, especially unionized electrical and construction workers.
“If an IBEW electrician says they're going hungry, something’s wrong with them,” Richardson said.
Meta’s Northwest Louisiana data center project will require 700 or 800 electricians sitewide, Richardson told me. He estimated that of the IBEW’s 875,000 members, about a tenth were working on data centers, and about 30% of his local were on a single data center job.
When I asked him whether that workforce could be reassembled for future nuclear plants, he said that the “majority” of the workforce likes working on nuclear projects, even if they’re currently doing data center work. “A lot of IBEW electricians look at the longevity of the job,” Richardson told me — and nuclear plants famously take a long, long time to build.
America isn’t building any new nuclear power plants right now (though it will soon if Rick Perry gets his way), but the question of how to balance a workforce between energy construction and data center projects is a pressing one across the country.
It’s not just nuclear developers that have to think about data centers when it comes to recruiting workers — it’s renewables developers, as well.
“We don’t see people leaving the workforce,” said Adam Sokolski, director of regulatory and economic affairs at EDF Renewables North America. “We do see some competition.”
He pointed specifically to Ohio, where he said, “You have a strong concentration of solar happening at the same time as a strong concentration of data center work and manufacturing expansion. There’s something in the water there.”
Sokolski told me that for EDF’s renewable projects, in order to secure workers, he and the company have to “communicate real early where we know we’re going to do a project and start talking to labor in those areas. We’re trying to give them a market signal as a way to say, We’re going to be here in two years.”
Solar and data center projects have lots of overlapping personnel needs, Sokolski said. There are operating engineers “working excavators and bulldozers and graders” or pounding posts into place. And then, of course, there are electricians, who Sokolski said were “a big, big piece of the puzzle — everything from picking up the solar panel off from the pallet to installing it on the racking system, wiring it together to the substations, the inverters to the communication systems, ultimately up to the high voltage step-up transformers and onto the grid.”
On the other hand, explained Kevin Pranis, marketing manager of the Great Lakes regional organizing committee of the Laborers’ International Union of North America, a data center is like a “fancy, very nice warehouse.” This means that when a data center project starts up, “you basically have pretty much all building trades” working on it. “You’ve got site and civil work, and you’re doing a big concrete foundation, and then you’re erecting iron and putting a building around it.”
Data centers also have more mechanical systems than the average building, “so you have more electricians and more plumbers and pipefitters” on site, as well.
Individual projects may face competition for workers, but Pranis framed the larger issue differently: Renewable energy projects are often built to support data centers. “If we get a data center, that means we probably also get a wind or solar project, and batteries,” he said.
While the data center boom is putting upward pressure on labor demand, Pranis told me that in some parts of the country, like the Upper Midwest, it’s helping to compensate for a slump in commercial real estate, which is one of the bread and butter industries for his construction union.
Data centers, Pranis said, aren’t the best projects for his members to work on. They really like doing manufacturing work. But, he added, it’s “a nice large load and it’s a nice big building, and there’s some number of good jobs.”
A conversation with Dustin Mulvaney of San Jose State University
This week’s conversation is a follow up with Dustin Mulvaney, a professor of environmental studies at San Jose State University. As you may recall we spoke with Mulvaney in the immediate aftermath of the Moss Landing battery fire disaster, which occurred near his university’s campus. Mulvaney told us the blaze created a true-blue PR crisis for the energy storage industry in California and predicted it would cause a wave of local moratoria on development. Eight months after our conversation, it’s clear as day how right he was. So I wanted to check back in with him to see how the state’s development landscape looks now and what the future may hold with the Moss Landing dust settled.
Help my readers get a state of play – where are we now in terms of the post-Moss Landing resistance landscape?
A couple things are going on. Monterey Bay is surrounded by Monterey County and Santa Cruz County and both are considering ordinances around battery storage. That’s different than a ban – important. You can have an ordinance that helps facilitate storage. Some people here are very focused on climate change issues and the grid, because here in Santa Cruz County we’re at a terminal point where there really is no renewable energy, so we have to have battery storage. And like, in Santa Cruz County the ordinance would be for unincorporated areas – I’m not sure how materially that would impact things. There’s one storage project in Watsonville near Moss Landing, and the ordinance wouldn’t even impact that. Even in Monterey County, the idea is to issue a moratorium and again, that’s in unincorporated areas, too.
It’s important to say how important battery storage is going to be for the coastal areas. That’s where you see the opposition, but all of our renewables are trapped in southern California and we have a bottleneck that moves power up and down the state. If California doesn’t get offshore wind or wind from Wyoming into the northern part of the state, we’re relying on batteries to get that part of the grid decarbonized.
In the areas of California where batteries are being opposed, who is supporting them and fighting against the protests? I mean, aside from the developers and an occasional climate activist.
The state has been strongly supporting the industry. Lawmakers in the state have been really behind energy storage and keeping things headed in that direction of more deployment. Other than that, I think you’re right to point out there’s not local advocates saying, “We need more battery storage.” It tends to come from Sacramento. I’m not sure you’d see local folks in energy siting usually, but I think it’s also because we are still actually deploying battery storage in some areas of the state. If we were having even more trouble, maybe we’d have more advocacy for development in response.
Has the Moss Landing incident impacted renewable energy development in California? I’ve seen some references to fears about that incident crop up in fights over solar in Imperial County, for example, which I know has been coveted for development.
Everywhere there’s batteries, people are pointing at Moss Landing and asking how people will deal with fires. I don’t know how powerful the arguments are in California, but I see it in almost every single renewable project that has a battery.
Okay, then what do you think the next phase of this is? Are we just going to be trapped in a battery fire fear cycle, or do you think this backlash will evolve?
We’re starting to see it play out here with the state opt-in process where developers can seek state approval to build without local approval. As this situation after Moss Landing has played out, more battery developers have wound up in the opt-in process. So what we’ll see is more battery developers try to get permission from the state as opposed to local officials.
There are some trade-offs with that. But there are benefits in having more resources to help make the decisions. The state will have more expertise in emergency response, for example, whereas every local jurisdiction has to educate themselves. But no matter what I think they’ll be pursuing the opt-in process – there’s nothing local governments can really do to stop them with that.
Part of what we’re seeing though is, you have to have a community benefit agreement in place for the project to advance under the California Environmental Quality Act. The state has been pretty strict about that, and that’s the one thing local folks could still do – influence whether a developer can get a community benefits agreement with representatives on the ground. That’s the one strategy local folks who want to push back on a battery could use, block those agreements. Other than that, I think some counties here in California may not have much resistance. They need the revenue and see these as economic opportunities.
I can’t help but hear optimism in your tone of voice here. It seems like in spite of the disaster, development is still moving forward. Do you think California is doing a better or worse job than other states at deploying battery storage and handling the trade offs?
Oh, better. I think the opt-in process looks like a nice balance between taking local authority away over things and the better decision-making that can be brought in. The state creating that program is one way to help encourage renewables and avoid a backlash, honestly, while staying on track with its decarbonization goals.
The week’s most important fights around renewable energy.
1. Nantucket, Massachusetts – A federal court for the first time has granted the Trump administration legal permission to rescind permits given to renewable energy projects.
2. Harvey County, Kansas – The sleeper election result of 2025 happened in the town of Halstead, Kansas, where voters backed a moratorium on battery storage.
3. Cheboygan County, Michigan – A group of landowners is waging a new legal challenge against Michigan’s permitting primacy law, which gives renewables developers a shot at circumventing local restrictions.
4. Klamath County, Oregon – It’s not all bad news today, as this rural Oregon county blessed a very large solar project with permits.
5. Muscatine County, Iowa – To quote DJ Khaled, another one: This county is also advancing a solar farm, eliding a handful of upset neighbors.