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Can solar plus storage fix one of the thorniest problems of the energy transition?

To talk about renewable energy these days is to talk about power lines. “No transition without transmission” has become something of a mantra among a legion of energy wonks. And following the passage of the Inflation Reduction Act, which contains a massive pot of subsidies for non-carbon-emitting power but little in the way of delivering it, legislative and regulatory attention has turned to getting that power from where it’s sunny and windy to where it’s needed.
Hardly a day goes by in which some industry group or environmental nonprofit isn’t assaulting the inboxes of climate journalists like myself with another study or white paper stressing the need for more transmission. But I’ve also recently noticed a newer group of advocates popping up: the battery stans.
Now, virtually everyone in the renewable energy space loves talking about the massive growth and potential of batteries to store power generated by renewables for when it’s needed most. Here the Inflation Reduction Act’s honeypot of subsidies and the long economic trends are working together. The price of batteries really is falling dramatically, and their deployment has been ramped up.
For most people, batteries are a complement to transmission upgrades. But to a much smaller group, the falling prices of solar and batteries may obviate the need for transmission expansion entirely.
Let’s start with the more mild case. As Duncan Campbell, Vice President at Scale Microgrids told me, “If you go deep on power grid expansion modeling studies, they all assume an enormous build-out of transmission well beyond what we’ve done in the past and I think demonstrated to be well beyond the current institutional capacity.” In other words, you can pencil in as much transmission build-out as you want, but the chances we’ll actually do it seem at least short of certain. “It’s quite reasonable to suggest when doing something super ambitious that it’s a good idea to have a diversified approach,” he said.
That diversified approach, for Campbell, includes storage and generation both on the transmission part of the grid — like utility-scale storage paired with solar arrays — and on the distribution side of the grid, like rooftop solar and garage batteries. The latter two examples can also work together as a “virtual power plant” to modulate consumption based on when power is most expensive or cheap and even sometimes send power back to the grid at times of stress.
“At the end of the day it seems undeniably prudent to think about what solutions are going to complement large-scale transmission build-out if we want to meet these goals. Otherwise it’s a concentrated approach that carries a lot of risks,” Campbell told me. “Technologically, VPPs and DER [distributed energy resources] can help. Especially in those worst situations.”
This balanced approach would not actually face much opposition from advocates for a substantial transmission build-out, even if sometimes this “debate” — especially on Twitter, I’m sorry, especially on X — can get polarized and contentious.
“They’re complementary, not competitive,” Ric O’Connell, the executive director of GridLab, told me. “Transmission moves energy around in space, storage moves around in time. You need both.”
O’Connell pointed out that storage in some cases could be thought of a transmission asset, something analogous to the wires and poles that move electricity, where power could be moved on very short time frames to help out with extremely high levels of demand, a lack of generation, or transmission congestion. We’ve seen this already in Texas, where storage has helped take the bite out of extremely high demand recently, and in California, where it has helped alleviate the rapid disappearance of solar power every evening.
“The shorter duration storage stuff is working to address congestion and streamline transmission operations. In that sense you can put it in the same category as a grid enhancing technology,” O’Connell said.
While nearly everyone I talked to was eager to say that storage and transmission could complement each other, even if some leaned on transmission more and others were more bullish on storage and distributed energy, there was one person who actually did represent a clear and polarizing view: Casey Handmer.
Handmer is a Cal Tech trained physicist who used to write software for the Jet Propulsion Laboratory and founded Terraform Industries, an early stage start up that’s looking to develop the “Terraformer,” a solar-powered factory that would create synthetic natural gas. Immodestly, he “aims to displace the majority of fossil hydrocarbon production by 2035.”
More modestly, he describes himself as “effectively a puffed up blogger who runs a pre-revenue (i.e. default dead) startup in an area peripheral (at best) to grid issues,” but is nonetheless, again, immodestly “pretty confident that my analysis is correct,” he told me in an email.
“My views on this matter are unconventional, even controversial. Arguably this is my spiciest hot take on the future of energy,” he wrote on his blog.
He thinks that the falling price of solar and batteries will make large-scale transmission investments unnecessary.
The price declines in battery and solar will continue, allowing people and businesses to throw up solar wherever, pair it with batteries, to the point where solar is “5-15x” overbuilt. That would mean that solar wouldn’t need to be backed up by any kind of “clean firm” power, i.e. a source that can produce carbon-free electricity at any time, like nuclear power, pumped-hydro, green hydrogen, or natural gas with carbon capture and storage.
While extreme, his views are not so, so, so far off from other renewables maximalists, who view solar and battery price declines as essentially inexorable. If they’re right, resource adequacy issues (i.e. that it’s much more sunny in some places than others) could be overcome by just building more cheap solar and installing more batteries.
“Adding 12 hours of storage to the entire U.S. grid would not happen overnight, but on current trends would cost around $500 billion and pay for itself within a few years. This is a shorter timescale than the required manufacturing ramp, meaning it could be entirely privately funded. By contrast, upgrading the U.S. transmission grid could cost $7 trillion over 20 years,” Handmer wrote in July.
As for the case that transmission is needed to get solar power from where it’s sunnier (like southern Europe or the American Southwest) to where it isn’t (Northern Europe, the rest of America), Handmer argues this isn’t really a problem.
“Solar resource quality doesn't matter that much. Solar resource is much more evenly distributed than, say, oil,” he told me. “Almost all humans live close to where their grandparents were able to grow food to live, and crops only grow in places that are roughly equally sunny.” He also argued that “solar is about 1000x more productive in terms of energy produced per unit land used than agriculture,” so building it will be economically compelling in huge swathes of the world.
As he acknowledges, his view is pretty lonely. He seems to yada-yada away what developments in battery technology would be needed to make this all work (although presumably ever-cheapening solar could just charge more lithium-ion batteries). One estimate suggests that to have “the greatest impact on electricity cost and firm generation,” battery storage would have to extend out to 100 hours — about 25X more than they do now.
This is where I say what you’re already thinking. This combination of technofuturism, contrarianism, work experience in the space industry and comfort with back-of-the-envelope math to make strong assertions makes Handmer sound like — and I mean this in the most value-neutral, descriptive way possible — another proponent of the rooftop solar, home battery, electric car future: Elon Musk. (Handmer used to work at the Musk-inspired Hyperloop One).
When I asked him why he’s an admitted outlier on this, he chalked it up to “anchoring bias in the climate space ... before solar and batteries got cheap, analyses showed that increasing the size of the grid was the best way to counter wind intermittency. But when the assumptions and data change, the results change too. The future of electricity is local. As a physicist, I was trained to take unusual observations to their utmost conclusion.”
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At this point, I think it’s clear that AI data centers are unpopular.
You probably know it, at least. I was preparing talk about data center opposition on a podcast today and I took the opportunity to dive back into our data, so I certainly know it. At this point, we’ve written about results from our polling that show Americans overwhelmingly oppose local data center construction, that majorities of Americans now support a national data center moratorium, and that the only group of Americans who feels more optimistic than pessimistic about artificial intelligence is … men older than 65 years old.
So I got curious: Given all that, who actually supports AI data centers?
One question from our recent Heatmap Pro poll, conducted by Embold Research, helps give us a sense. This is the profile of someone our data says would support a data center built in their local area:
A few facets stand out. These data center YIMBYs are more likely to be men, and more likely to be 2024 Trump voters, but they’re not locked into one age demographic or voting cohort. A third are Harris supporters, and roughly a third are women. Data center YIMBYs are more likely to be older than 50, but the majority isn’t overwhelming.
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Perhaps more surprising: The group has many more people who voted third-party in the 2024 election (8%) than the general population (just under 2%), although that response could also include people who didn’t vote. (Alas, the data can’t quite confirm how many in this group are libertarian.)
What’s perhaps most interesting: This group overwhelmingly believes that artificial intelligence will make their lives better. And in heartening news for climate advocates, they are even more likely to support a given data center project if it is powered by renewables.
I was going to joke that the profile is essentially a newly retired engineering dad — except that, to my surprise, these data center YIMBYs are far less gender imbalanced than the American engineering profession. (They’re also less gender-imbalanced than American Tesla owners.) So I’ll leave it at that.
Five takeaways from the latest Lazard Levelized Cost of Energy report.
It’s all getting more expensive.
That’s the conclusion of the investment bank Lazard’s latest report on the levelized cost of energy, one of the most closely watched and cited energy reports of the year.
Levelized cost of energy measures the dollars per megawatt-hour a power plant needs to earn in revenue to break even over the course of its lifetime in present-value terms.
What makes LCOE so alluring is that it’s a way to compare any type of generator, whether it requires a large upfront investment but has few operating costs, like a utility-scale solar project, or whether its expenses are largely fuel costs incurred in the future, like a combined cycle natural gas plant. This is also why LCOE has its critics, who point out that a solar panel that only runs during certain times of day has a different value to the electricity system than a natural gas plant that can ramp up and down quickly or a nuclear plant that provides steady baseload power.
Anyway, here’s what we can learn from this year’s Lazard report.
Curves that were once gently sloping downward are starting to look like incipient U’s. While longterm LCOE falls are still dramatic and impressive for some technologies — utility solar has fallen from $359 per megawatt-hour in 2009 to $69 in 2026 — the short term rises are worrisome. That $69 per megawatt hour represents a nearly 10% increase from 2025, when utility-scale solar had a LCOE of $58. And it’s not just renewables — the LCOE for a combined cycle natural gas plant rose from $78 per megawatt-hour to $90 in the past year. Gas plant LCOE got as low as $60 in 2021. That’s a 50% price hike in just five years.
Lazard attributed the increase in solar and wind LCOE to “higher capital costs, sustained interest rates, tariff pass-through and supply chain repricing.” These technologies are also the most “sensitive” to subsidies by way of the tax code, with federal tax tax credits taking the low end cost of utility solar to as low as $16 per megawatt hour. To the extent those tax credits are no longer available or weren’t accessible due to strict eligibility rules, that could be a source of future upward pressure on costs.
That being said, renewables “maintain their relative cost advantage despite facing the same cost pressures affecting the rest of the generation stack,” the Lazard analysts concluded.
Natural gas, meanwhile, is seeing prices spiral upward on huge and growing customer demand.
“Continuous upward revisions to demand projections have driven a sharp increase in announced new-build gas generation despite a 15-year high LCOE and historically long development lead times,” according to Lazard.
The report hints at what LCOE is not always able to capture, namely that generators like gas have attributes besides low cost that make them attractive. “New gas combined cycle plants offer the lowest-cost dispatchable power in high-demand and low-cost-gas environments,” the analysts point out.
Anyone building a new combined cycle gas plant, however, will have to deal with the high cost and low availability for turbines, which is “extending development timelines well beyond historical norms.” That provides an opening for renewables that can be deployed quickly and cheaply, like solar and accompanied by battery storage.
In 2019, the low end of LCOE for onshore end was $28 per megawatt-hour, according to Lazard’s figures, and the high end was $54. In 2026, however, the low end costs sits a bit higher at $37 per megawatt-hour, but the high end cost rose to $99. There’s a similar story for utility solar: in 2019, the spread between low and high was a snug $8 per megawatt-hour, while this year it’s ballooned to $58.
The broadening range is “likely reflecting that some project developers have been better able to mitigate broader cost pressures across supply chain and project-level economics than others,” the Lazard analysts wrote.
The Lazard report doesn’t just look at the discounted cost of individual generators over their lifetimes. It also tries to figure how much they cost on certain grids. One way of doing this is to look at what Lazard calls the “cost of firming intermittency” or “levelized firming costs.” This is essentially looking at what it costs to bring solar, solar and storage, and wind and storage onto actual grids considering their ability to perform when the grid is most stressed.
This measure tries to refine LCOE to give a sense of how various forms of energy generation compare to gas plants in real world circumstances, not just as a financial construct. This is not a perfect, real-world comparison — gas capacity needs to be “firmed” as well, as it’s not always entirely available at times of peak need — but at least it gives an idea of how these resources actually function in a real-world grid.
Even with firming costs, “renewables remain broadly cost-competitive,” the report concludes.
Not surprisingly, some of the most dramatic costs are in America’s most troubled electricity market, PJM Interconnection. The unsubsidized cost of firming intermittency for solar and storage is $167 per megawatt-hour, compared to $150 in Texas or $115 in California. That’s also compared to a $129 per megawatt-hour at the high end for conventional combined cycle gas plants in PJM.
PJM is notorious for its inability to bring on new resources quickly and its strict standards for accrediting the contribution of storage and renewables to grid stability.
While the Lazard authors explicitly caution that it doesn’t measure what the“total system costs are for 1 MWh of incremental electricity” and can’t say “the optimal mix of renewables, conventional generation and storage,” it does conclude that “firming costs and dispatchability are increasingly critical for comparing resources on a more complex grid.”
In short, no matter what ends up on the grid, grid planners will have to think carefully about how to make sure it’s reliable and works in concert with what’s already there.
Timber companies think of them as pests, but new research indicates that stands of the slender tree can act as barriers against raging flames.
Colorado’s Aspen Acres Fire is named after a quiet RV campground located high in the San Isabel Mountains, about a five-hour drive due southeast of the state’s better-known Aspen. Both places, however, are named after the iconic deciduous tree known for its golden leaves in the fall. While the start of monsoon season may yet prevent the Aspen Acres Fire — the seventh-largest in Colorado’s history — from joining Utah’s Babylon Fire as the second 100,000-acre “megafire” of the season, the conflagration has been aided in its rampage not by aspens, but rather by dead, downed, and blighted ponderosa pines, spruce, and Douglas firs. The wildfire has now burned over 98,000 acres and nearly 300 homes, and is only 36% contained due to steep terrain that has hampered firefighting efforts, along with extreme drought conditions and beetle infestations that have greatly degraded the forest health of the region.
But what about its aspens? Though the extent of the damage at the campground remains unknown, according to a recent study of Populus tremuloides, Colorado’s iconic golden trees could be one of the keys to more wildfire-resistant forests in the future.
Flavie Pelletier, a recent PhD graduate of McGill University’s Natural Resource Sciences program, told me she first became interested in aspens while working as a tree planter in British Columbia. “The historical assumption on aspen is that stands are very good at stopping fire progression. But the paradox is that if you take an aspen by itself, it’s going to burn at high severity,” Pelletier, who published her findings in Forest Ecology and Management, told me.
By creating near-real-time maps of fires using satellites and comparing them against the Canadian Forest Service’s newly available maps of dominant tree species in the boreal, Pelletier and her colleagues discovered that aspen were almost two and a half times more common at the perimeter of a burned area than inside it. The finding suggests that despite the flammability of a single aspen with its thin bark, stands of aspen act as a kind of barrier when wildfire ran up against them, likely because they lack the flammable resins of conifers and their high foliage helps force running crown fires back toward the ground. Pine and spruce, by contrast, showed a near-zero or even negative effect.
When aspen stands did burn, Pelletier found they did so more slowly: A tree cover of 50% aspen burned at about 224 hectares per day, compared to 717 hectares per day in areas where aspen made up less than 10% of the cover. That’s the equivalent of about 1,000 FIFA-regulation soccer pitches per day in places where aspen are sparser — like Aspen Acres.
Even more surprising, though, was that the pattern held true in the early season, when the trees are still twiggy and have yet to grow their moisture-filled leaves, and despite the severity of fire weather. “Aspen still showed resilience even when the fire weather was very intense, [like in 2023, when] we had all the fires,” Pelletier said.
But she was also the first to admit that seasons are getting more extreme, and that there’s no guarantee the pattern will hold for the next 10 or 20 years.
Pelletier was reluctant to make a policy recommendation based on her research, noting that she’s not a forest manager. But in Alberta and British Columbia, timber companies spray hundreds of thousands of acres of timber with glyphosate, an herbicide, to kill off aspens because the trees outcompete the more commercially valuable conifers. Her findings are “a big argument to stop the spreading of herbicides because you’re increasing the risk of fire in your forest by removing aspen,” Pelletier said.
Despite her hesitation, Pelletier is explicit in her paper about one thing: that aspens “should be encouraged — specifically around key landscape positions, such as population centers” — given that they are a proven means of hardening the wildland-urban interface against wildfires. It might be too late for the idyllically named Aspen Acres, of course; any of the aspens that once drew tourists to the area are likely now ash.
But this not be Colorado’s last fire, either.