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How Team Biden learned to stop worrying and love carbon removal.

What does the new American climate policy look like?
Last week, we got a better sense. On Friday, the Biden administration unveiled a massive investment — more than $1.2 billion — that aims to create a new industry in the United States out of whole cloth that will specialize in removing carbon from the atmosphere.
As President Joe Biden’s climate law hits its one-year anniversary, the investment shows the audacity, the potential, and — ultimately — the risks of his approach to climate and economic policy.
If successful, the investment will establish a new sector of the American economy and remake another one, while providing the world with an important tool to fight climate change. If unsuccessful, then the investment could set back an important climate technology and forever link it to the fossil-fuel industry.
The investment’s centerpiece is two large industrial facilities in Louisiana and Texas that will remove more than 1 million tons of carbon from the atmosphere every year. But the program is much broader than those hubs, encompassing more advanced and experimental approaches to carbon removal, or CDR, than the government has previously funded. The government has unleashed old industrial policy tools, such as advanced market guarantees, toward the nascent field.
Although Biden is implementing this policy, the approach will almost certainly outlive his administration. America’s support for carbon removal is strongly, perhaps surprisingly, bipartisan. The new hubs and the other policies announced last week were funded by the bipartisan infrastructure law or by other bipartisan legislation.
Given all that, it’s worth it to spend some time on these investments to better understand how they work and what they might mean for the future of the American economy.
Let’s start here: Yes, we will probably need carbon dioxide removal, or CDR, to meet the world’s and the country’s climate goals.
This wasn’t always clear. When I started as a climate reporter in 2015, carbon removal was taboo, something that only climate deniers and other folks who wanted to delay decarbonization brought up. An influential Princeton study from earlier in the decade had concluded that carbon removal — especially capturing carbon in the ambient air, a strategy called direct air capture, or DAC — would never pencil out financially and that it would always be cheaper to reduce fossil-fuel use rather than suck carbon out of the sky.
But in 2018, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change made a startling announcement: So much carbon dioxide had accumulated in the atmosphere that it would be virtually impossible to keep global warming below 1.5 degrees Celsius without carbon removal.
The IPCC studied global energy models and found that even in optimistic scenarios, humanity would release too much carbon by the middle of the century to keep temperatures from briefly rising by more than 1.5 degrees Celsius. But if we began removing carbon from the atmosphere, then we could avoid locking in that spike in temperatures for the long term. That is, in order to hit the 1.5-degree goal by 2100, humanity must spend much of the 21st century removing carbon from the atmosphere and sequestering it for thousands of years.
We need carbon removal, in other words, not so we can keep burning fossil fuels, but to deal with the fossil-fuel pollution that is already in the atmosphere.
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This change was only possible because CDR’s costs were falling. A few months earlier, a company called Carbon Engineering had announced that it would soon cut direct air capture’s cost to $230 a ton. (DAC was once thought to cost $600 a ton.) This suggested that in a handful of cases — a small handful — it might make financial sense to use DAC instead of decarbonizing a particular activity.
Even so, the numbers involved in this effort are mind-boggling. This year, several thousands tons of carbon will be removed from the atmosphere worldwide, at a cost of $200 to $2,000 a ton, according to one industry expert. Perhaps 100,000 tons of carbon have ever been removed from the atmosphere by a human-run process, according to CDR.fyi, a community-run database.
But by 2050, in order to hit the IPCC’s targets, humanity must remove about 5 billion tons a year at a cost of roughly $100 a ton.
For context, the global shipping industry moves about 11 billion tons of material each year.
In other words, in the next three decades, humanity must perfect the technology of CDR, find a way to pay for it, and massively scale it up to the degree that it captures roughly half of the amount of material that travels via oceanborne trade today. And it must do this while decarbonizing the rest of the energy system — because if we fail to bring fossil-fuel use nearly to zero during this period, then all of this will be for naught.
Q: Well, if we have to store all this carbon for a very long time, why don’t we plant a lot of trees?
A: For a few years in the mid 2010s, trees did seem like the cheapest way to pull carbon out of the atmosphere.
But the scale of the carbon problem exceeds what biology alone can fix. Since 1850, humanity has pumped 2.5 trillion tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. This is nearly twice the total biomass of all life on Earth. Only geology can deal with such a massive (literally) problem. To truly undo climate change, we must put carbon back into geological storage. Plus, even if you sopped up a lot of carbon with trees, they might burn down. Then you’d be back where you started.
Yet CDR isn’t just a logistical problem.
Fossil fuel companies have long used the rhetoric of carbon removal — and its relative, carbon capture and storage, which sucks up climate pollution from a smokestack or industrial process — as an excuse to keep drilling for oil and gas. At the same time, they’ve resisted any federal regulation that would require them to actually capture carbon when they burn fossil fuels.
What’s more, the infrastructure and the expertise best-suited for carbon removal is largely in the same places that have fossil-fuel industries today. (Think of the Gulf Coast or North Dakota.) Some people who live in those places want to see decarbonization end the fossil-fuel industry forever — not transform it into something different, like a carbon management industry.
And although the technology to inject captured carbon dioxide into the ground is decades-old, concentrated CO2 can be dangerous if mishandled.
It’s not hard to imagine a world where the promise of CDR allows oil and gas companies to keep drilling and polluting, but where a lack of any binding regulation — and local pushback whenever a CDR facility is announced — means that very little carbon actually gets removed from the atmosphere. In that world, no matter how powerful CDR is technologically, the politics of CDR would make climate change worse.
Which brings us to the Biden administration’s strategy for scaling up the CDR industry. It has three components:
1. Build massive direct air capture facilities around the country.
2. A slew of new programs to boost alternative (and maybe less energy-intensive) approaches to CDR.
3. A new “Responsible Carbon Management” guideline.
In short, the administration is seeking to scale up the most straightforward carbon-removal technology, financially support other promising approaches, and then ensure it all happens in an above-board way.
The marquee announcement here are the carbon capture hubs, which were widely covered last week. The Energy Department will spend $1.2 billion on large-scale facilities in Louisiana and Texas that will use industrial processes to cleanse carbon from the ambient air. Each will remove about one million tons of carbon a year when complete.
Project Cypress, the Louisiana hub, will be run by the federal contractor Battelle in conjunction with Climeworks, a Swiss DAC company, and Heirloom, which stores carbon dioxide in concrete.
The boringly named South Texas DAC Hub will be run by Occidental Petroleum, an oil company, in conjunction with the DAC company Carbon Engineering and Worley, an engineering firm.
These are going to be the charismatic megaprojects of the CDR industry. They are meant to create clusters of expertise and infrastructure, concentrated in a geographic core, that will give rise to more innovation. You can think of them as little Silicon Valleys — or, more pointedly, little Shenzens — of carbon removal.
As goes these hubs, so goes CDR. If the hubs have an accident, or take too long to build, then the industry will struggle; if they succeed, it will have a running start. Therefore, the Energy Department has made a big fuss about how these projects should help local residents: When selecting these projects, it took the unusual step of ranking these projects’ “community benefits” as highly as their more technical aspects.
Last week, an Energy Department official was quick to point out to me that these projects have merely been selected and that neither has received any money yet. Next, the department and these hubs will negotiate binding contracts that will seek to lock in community benefits for locals. Only then will the funds flow.
What’s more interesting, though, is what’s not here. In the infrastructure law, Congress required that the Energy Department establish four DAC hubs. Only two have been announced. That’s because officials realized last year that fewer than four places nationwide had the expertise and understanding of DAC necessary to erect a massive million-ton facility on demand.
So the department set up a kind of starter DAC hub program — a series of grants that will allow cities, nonprofits, universities and companies to study the feasibility of establishing a DAC hub in their town. It gave out more than a dozen of these grants last week to companies and universities in Utah, California, Illinois, Kentucky, and more.
Officials clearly hope that these starter grants may produce more than two full-fledged DAC hub projects, which Congress can then fund at the same level as the Texas and Louisiana facilities.
Even those starter projects will specialize in DAC, though, which means that each approach will use industrial machinery to capture carbon from the ambient air and inject it underground.
But removing carbon doesn’t necessarily require DAC. It may be possible to remove carbon passively by using certain kinds of rock, for instance, or by growing lots and lots of algae. These approaches will probably use less energy than DAC, and they may even remove more carbon than DAC, but they will be harder to measure and verify, and there will be more uncertainty about exactly how much carbon you’re taking out of the atmosphere.
But federal policy has a strong pro-DAC bias. That’s not only because of the DAC hubs, but also because of the Inflation Reduction Act: Biden’s climate law pays companies $180 for each ton of carbon that they remove from the atmosphere, but it is written such that it can essentially only be used for DAC.
The department is trying to diversify away from DAC within the bounds that Congress has given. Last week, it announced that it would soon sponsor small pilot programs that use alternative technologies, including rock mineralization, biomass, and ocean-based processes. It will also fund efforts to measure and verify those techniques so as to make sure they remove a dependable amount of carbon from the atmosphere.
The Energy Department also announced that it will create a new pilot purchase program for carbon removal efforts, providing an “early market commitment” to carbon-removal companies in the same way that it provided one to COVID vaccine makers. This program, which will have an initial budget of $35 million, will use federal expertise to identify which CDR techniques are the most viable and promising, allowing a DOE purchase contract to function as a de facto stamp of approval. (Heatmap first covered the existence of this program earlier this month.)
Finally, the department will launch a separate prize for commercial DAC providers with the goal of cutting its costs down to $100 a ton.
These programs have the unfortunate name “Carbon Negative Shot,” which is meant to evoke a “moonshot” but sounds more like an overpriced product for deer hunters. We will not dwell on it any longer.
All these efforts will turn the Department of Energy into the world’s biggest public buyer and supporter of carbon removal. That lays the groundwork for the final aspect of its strategy that launched last week: a “Responsible Carbon Management Initiative.”
This is a nonbinding list of principles that any carbon-management project will have to follow: These include engaging respectfully with communities before setting up a project, consulting with local tribes, developing the local workforce and ensuring good jobs, and monitoring local air and water quality. (The department is seeking public comment on what, exactly, these principles should be.)
Eventually, the Energy Department hopes to use these principles to provide “technical assistance” to projects that meet the guidelines. It will also recognize developers that have demonstrated they meet the principles.
In other words, the initiative could, over time, become a kind of soft standards-setting body for the industry — a way to distinguish good carbon-removal projects from the bad (and hopefully eliminate the bad in the first place). It will help that the same department publishing these guidelines will also be where all the funding is coming from.
Will all this work? I don’t know. But the scale of the effort is meaningful in itself, because it shows how the Biden administration approaches the task of erecting an industry de novo. If there’s such a thing as Bidenomics, this is what it looks like: a place-based development strategy that admires industrial clustering, supports domestic supply and demand, and applies an optimistic approach to regulation.
You can also see the risk of Biden’s approach. Decarbonization requires technical expertise and real-world know-how; in America, most of that expertise resides in the private sector. Occidental, an oil company that describes itself (optimistically) as a carbon management company, will operate one of the DAC hubs. Although it is prohibited by law from doing anything really egregious — like using the carbon that it’s capturing to drill for more oil — the Biden team cannot ensure that its heart or actions will remain pure. Occidental will be a good carbon-removal team player only so long as it benefits its bottom line.
Yet I don’t want to overstate the importance of this investment either. The vast majority of the Biden administration’s climate investment is going to cutting emissions: If anything, the Biden administration is spending too little on carbon removal, not too much. By my estimate, these programs, including the DAC hubs, will amount for 2% of the roughly $173 billion that the bipartisan infrastructure law devotes to climate or environmental projects. And when you include the Inflation Reduction Act’s climate spending — which is where most federal climate spending is in the first place — the programs discussed here drop to perhaps one percent of total climate spending, although that will depend on how many facilities use the DAC tax credit.
That is a small price for a big prize. If this funding “works,” then these investments will represent the beginning of a new industry — a carbon management industry capable of pulling millions of tons of pollution out of the sky. But even if they fail, then we’ll have learned something too: that carbon removal — and especially DAC — may in fact be unworkable, and that we should not comfort ourselves in the years to come with the hope of cleaning up the atmosphere.
“Our responsibility is to do what we can, learn what we can, improve the solutions, and pass them on. It is our responsibility to leave the people of the future a free hand,” the physicist Richard Feynman once wrote. A couple billion seems a worthy price for learning if that hand is free or not.
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Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”
Current conditions: A sleepy Atlantic hurricane season just snapped to attention as two tropical storms started forming near the Caribbean and off Africa’s coast • Southern California is bracing for a week of triple-digit temperatures • The Hawk Fire has forced 42,000 people to evacuate an area near Reno, Nevada.
The Environmental Protection Agency plans to repeal a federal rule requiring states to publicize and solicit comments on applications for air pollution permits for various industrial facilities, including new data centers and power plants that provide the electricity they need. The move, The New York Times cautioned, “could prevent residents from raising concerns about — or even learning about — data centers before permits are approved and construction starts.” Three-quarters of Americans now oppose data centers built near their homes, according to the latest polling from Heatmap Pro. That’s up from less than half last year.
The Trump administration’s effort to curb public input comes as local opposition to data centers reaches an intensity that frequently draws comparisons to a moral panic. In a post on X last week, one commentator compared the backlash to a 2004 newspaper clip in which a pregnant woman photographed smoking a cigarette complains that the sound of jackhammers from construction on her block posed a risk to her unborn child. A video circulating on Facebook this week showed the former mayor of the Upstate New York town of Massena, where census data shows one in four residents lives below the poverty line, pleading with residents to consider the benefits of data centers. “They’re data centers. They’re being built somewhere. Communities are accepting these things,” he said, urging residents holding protest signs to listen with an open mind to experts about how a proposed facility would be built. “I know for a fact we have aging infrastructure. It’s just going to get worse. How do you fix that? We’re losing people left and right in this community. Look at the number of boarded-up houses. Look at the number of businesses that are going out of business … You can’t afford the time it’s going to take to research for three years when these things are being built today.”
As you may recall, the Trump administration last week imposed harsh water cuts on the three states in the Lower Basin of the Colorado River: Arizona, California, and Nevada. This week, Nevada Governor Joe Lombardo, a Republican, announced litigation filed in federal district court challenging the Department of the Interior’s plan, arguing that the cuts unfairly harm downstream states like his. The lawsuit makes Nevada the first of the three states to launch what E&E News called a “legal war” against the policy. Under the Trump administration’s proposed plan, southern Nevada could lose more than 70% of what Lombardo called its “already meager Colorado River allocation,” even though Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Wyoming “are not required to contribute a drop.” The governor, who is up for reelection, continued: “This isn’t about political posturing; this is a matter of survival for a community that represents about two-thirds of our state’s citizens and the lion’s share of its economy.”
Between 2010 and 2024, the United States imported about 59 terawatt-hours of electricity per year from Canada, and exported roughly 13 terawatt-hours back north across the border. America’s appetite for Canadian electricity is only likely to increase as our northern neighbors build more nuclear reactors, hydroelectric dams, and offshore turbines in areas such near the Northeast, among (I say, haughtily clearing my throat as a fourth-generation New Yorker) the most densely populated and culturally powerful parts of the entire U.S. Now that’s under threat as Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney plays hardball with President Donald Trump in floundering trade talks. After summoning home its trade negotiators over the weekend, Ottawa announced retaliatory tariffs against the U.S. on Tuesday, slapping levies of up to 50% on about $20 billion in goods. On Monday, Ontario Premier Doug Ford said his province could cut off electricity and critical mineral exports to the U.S. “We power 1.5 million homes and businesses,” Ford told the Associated Press. “Everything’s on the table. I’ll do whatever it takes.” While the BBC reported that “squeezing the U.S. on energy is not a current countermeasure,” it also said that such a response “hasn’t been ruled out.” In statements to Utility Dive, the grid operators in New York and New England said new tariffs would not affect reliability, though the latter region cautioned that it could face problems during extreme weather events.
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European buyers of liquified natural gas paid $22.83 for a million British thermal units at the start of this week, more than double the price a year ago and the highest since 2023, according to the Financial Times. The surge came as Iran struck an oil tanker trying to cross the Strait of Hormuz, damaging its engine room and halting the ship. Trump said Tuesday that all underwater mines the Iranian military had laid were now cleared from the waterway. Tehran is set to begin talks with neutral Oman on a route for fully reopening the strait, the Oman Observer reported.
The spike in European LNG prices serves as a reminder of the benefits for the U.S. of becoming the world’s top producer of natural gas and exporter of the version that’s super-chilled to a liquid state for more efficient transportation. LNG, as my colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote in February, “is the ultimate bogeyman” for many progressives and climate activists. But the American industry, transformed by the fracking revolution over the past two decades, had more than enough supply to help Europe stay warm and keep the lights on in 2022, when Russia started throttling the pipelines selling gas to Ukraine’s allies after the start of the war. “The world is going to keep needing natural gas at least until 2050, and likely well beyond that,” John Hebert, a senior policy adviser at the advocacy group Third Way who is pushing for Democrats to embrace LNG, told Matthew. “The focus, in our view, should be much more on how we reduce emissions from the oil and gas value chain and less on actually trying to phase out these fuels entirely.”

When I visited the Netherlands’ lone nuclear power station in 2022, the single-reactor plant, called Borssele, stood alone next to a demolition site dismantling the power station. But soon the country plans to finally expand its atomic power sector. On Tuesday, NucNet reported that the Dutch nuclear energy agency had signed contracts with France’s EDF and the U.S.-based Westinghouse Electric Company for design studies on at least two new reactors. The advancing plans are a sign of how quickly things are changing in the region. At the end of my visit six years ago, I stood atop a high berm — classic Dutch engineering to reclaim the land and keep the floodwaters at bay — at the end of the facility and caught a glimpse at northern Belgium. Back then, Brussels was shutting down its own nuclear fleet. Now, as I reported earlier this year, the country has nationalized its reactors and plans to revive its industry.
Wildfire smoke is nasty stuff. That’s not news to anyone living in the American West, but we in the Northeast learned the hard way just how harmful it is when Canadian smoke poured into our cities this summer and in 2023. But that smoke can have a benefit, at least when rain carries it into soil: It acts as a fertilizer. A new study found that smoke-rain events can deliver large bursts of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium as black soot in the air mixes with water droplets. “It’s important to remember that what goes up must come down,” Alexandra Ponette-González, an urban ecologist at the University of Utah and Natural History Museum of Utah and the lead author of the paper, said in a statement. “There’s so much focus on what goes up and how that affects human health. We’re interested in everything that falls out of the atmosphere and lands on ecosystems, and what that means for our environment.”
The singer’s music spanned genre and generating technology — and asked how to live in a world on fire.
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Even as state-level Republicans have started talking about the data center boom more skeptically, the Trump administration keeps hugging it.
The Environmental Protection Agency will ditch a federal rule requiring states to publicize air pollution permits for major new industrial sites, including data centers and off-grid power plants, The New York Times reports. Those are some of the permits that we used in our recent reporting to, for instance, make sense of the scale of the coming gargantuan gas buildout. This policy might make sense as realpolitik in a more subdued development environment, but I don’t understand it when trust in any type of project is so low — and when even a majority of Republicans have turned on local data center development.
We badly need insight into the scale of artificial intelligence energy use right now, but this policy could make things even more uncertain. It reveals, too, just how much President Trump has fallen out of touch with the public.
I was planning on writing about a different topic today — and then Dolly Parton died. The country legend was 80 years old. Her nephew announced her death on social media in a sad, sweet, and lovely video.
What can I say? She was among the most admired living Americans. So voluminous and impressive was her legacy that I don’t even have to stretch much to find an energy or climate angle in it. How many other musicians were born in a home without heat or electricity — but would be eulogized upon their death by the public utility from their Tennessee Mountain Home?
Her music spanned genres and generating technologies. Some of our readers may appreciate her trio with Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt of Neil Young’s environmentalist classic “After the Gold Rush”; others, her takes on lighting — or liquid combustion. But most will enjoy the lead single off her final album, where the studiously apolitical singer confronted the prospect of a burning world: “Now I ain’t one for speaking out much / But that don’t mean I don’t stay in touch,” she sang. “Liar, liar the world’s on fire / What we gonna do when it all burns down?”
In a fluke, the next tropical cyclone to form in the Atlantic basic will — according to the World Meteorological Organization’s 2026 list — be named Dolly. Let’s hope it puts on a show but doesn’t find any islands in its stream.