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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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Why local governments are getting an earful about “infrasound”
As the data center boom pressures counties, cities, and towns into fights over noise, the trickiest tone local officials are starting to hear complaints about is one they can’t even hear – a low-frequency rumble known as infrasound.
Infrasound is a phenomenon best described as sounds so low, they’re inaudible. These are the sorts of vibrations and pressure at the heart of earthquakes and volcanic activity. Infrasound can be anything from the waves shot out from a sonic boom or an explosion to very minute changes in air pressure around HVAC systems or refrigerators.
Knowing some of these facilities also have the capacity to produce significant audible noise, growing segments of the population’s more tech-skeptical and health-anxious corners are fretting some data centers could be making a lot of infrasound, too. The whizzing of so many large computational machines combined with cooling fans and other large devices creating so many new columns of air flow. Add onto that any rotational onsite power generation – think natural gas turbines, for example – and you get quite a lot of movement that could potentially produce what they say is infrasound.
Some of the virality of this chatter about infrasound and data centers comes from a video about infrasound created by audio engineer and researcher Benn Jordan. Currently sitting at more than 1 million views, this short YouTube film documents claims that some data centers are operating like “acoustic weapons” through infrasound and harming people. Andy Masley, an “effective altruist” writer, has become the chief critic of the Jordan video, getting into a back-and-forth that’s raised the issue to Internet discourse territory.
The Jordan-Masley infrasound debate is honestly a bit of a mess. So I want to be clear: I’m not going to get into the science of whether or not infrasound poses any kind of public health risk in this article. We can get to that later. It’s worth saying that this subject may need more study and that work is ongoing. Also, talking about infrasound at all can make you honestly sound a little wacky (see: this study blaming people seeing ghosts on infrasound). It might also remind you of another panic in the Electric Age: electromagnetic fields, also known as EMFs. Developers of transmission lines and solar projects have long had to deal with people worried about transmission lines and large electrical equipment potentially glowing with invisible, unhealthy radiation.
In late 2024, I wrote about how an RFK Jr. supporter worried about this form of electrical emission was helping lead the fight against a transmission line in New Jersey for offshore wind. Maybe that’s why it didn’t surprise me one bit when the Health and Human Services secretary himself told a U.S. Senate Committee last week that he was asking the Surgeon General’s office to “do either meta reviews” or “base studies” on noise pollution and EMF radiation from data centers “so we can better inform the American public.”
“There’s a range of injuries that are very, very well documented. They’re neurological – very, very grave neurological injuries, cancer risk,” Kennedy Jr. told the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions Committee on April 22 in response to a request from Sen. Josh Hawley of Missouri to study the issue. “The risks, to me, are tremendous.”
There’s also the unfortunate reality that infrasound impacts have previously been a cudgel to slow down renewable energy deployment. Wind turbines create infrasound because of the subharmonic frequencies created when one turbine rotates at a slightly different pace than another, producing a slightly dissonant low frequency noise. Groups like the Heartland Institute proudly list this infrasound as one of the reasons wind energy “menaces man and nature.”
But regardless of merit, this concern is already impacting local government decisions around data center projects, much like how one Michigan county sought to restrict solar energy on the same basis.
In February Adrian Shelley, the Texas director for environmental group Public Citizen, implored the city of Red Rock to study changing their noise ordinance to take into account infrasound. “It has effects on sleep patterns, on stress, on cardiovascular health, and it is potentially a very serious concern,” Shelley said at a February 11 city council discussion on data center rules. “It will not be covered by the city’s noise ordinance, which only deals with audible sound.”
Earlier this month in Calvert County, Maryland, a volunteer for their environmental commission recently told the county government that infrasound needs to be factored into their future data center planning. “It will have significant impacts on our region and the Chesapeake and the Patuxent because infrasound isn’t stopped by walls,” commission member Janette Wysocki, a proud land conservationist, said at an April 15 hearing. “It will keep going, it will move through anything. It’s a very long wavelength. So we need to protect our ecosystem.” Wysocki implored the county to consider whether to adjust its noise regulations.
Around the same time, similar concerns were raised in Lebanon, a small city in east-central Pennsylvania. “It permeates through concrete walls, it permeates through the ground,” Thomas Dompier, an associate professor at Lebanon Valley College, said at an April 16 Lebanon County commission hearing on data centers.
Lastly, last week I explained how Loudon County wants to rethink its noise ordinance to deal with low-frequency “hums” from data centers – a concern echoing those who fret infrasound.
Ethan Bourdeau, executive director of standards at Quiet Parks Intentional and a career acoustician and building standards writer, told me that what makes data centers unique is the “constant drone” of noise that could potentially carry subharmonic frequencies. Bourdeau said cities or counties could possibly factor concerns about infrasound into noise ordinances to address those who are most concerned. One way they could do it is by changing how decibels are weighted in the government’s measurements. A-weighting decibel meters are a common form of sound measurement geared toward perceptible noise. Using different systems, like C-weighting or G-weighting, would avoid ways that A-weighting can filter out sub-hearing frequencies.
“These are reporting and weighting systems where a sound level meter taking background noise receives all the unweighted sound and then you apply all these filters afterwards, like an EQ curve,” Bourdeau said.
So I guess if those most concerned about infrasound have their way, a lot of country commissioners and local elected leaders will be heading to the mixing booth.
And more on the week’s top fights around project development.
1. King County, Washington – The Moss Landing battery backlash is alive and well more than a year after the fiery disaster, fomenting an opposition stampede that threatens to delay a massive energy storage project two dozen miles east of Seattle.
2. Prince Williams County, Virginia – It was a big week for data center troubles. Let’s start with Data Center Alley, which started to show cracks this week as data center developer Compass announced it was pulling out of the controversial Digital Gateway mega-project.
3. Washtenaw County, Michigan – Turning to Michigan, real estate firm Sansone abandoned plans to purchase land owned by Toyota to build a hyperscale data center campus after the local township instituted a 6-month moratoria.
4. Okeechobee County, Florida – The backlash to data centers is killing projects in deep-red Florida too, as this county’s commission decides to kill a 205-acre prospective data center campus led by a state college.
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A conversation with Holly Jean Buck, author of a buzzy story about Bernie Sanders’ proposal for a national data center moratorium.
This week’s conversation is with Holly Jean Buck, an associate professor at the University of Buffalo and former official in the Energy Department’s Office of Fossil Energy and Carbon Management. Buck got into the thicket of the data center siting debate this past week after authoring a polemic epistemology of sorts in Jacobin arguing against a national data center ban. In the piece, she called a moratorium on AI data centers “a massive strategic blunder for the left, and we should think through the global justice implications and follow-on effects.” It argued that environmental and climate activists would be better suited not courting a left-right coalition that doesn’t seem to have shared goals in the long term.
Her article was praised by more Abundance-leaning thinkers like Matthew Yglesias and pilloried by some of the more influential people in the anti-data center organizing space, such as Ben Inskeep of Citizens Action Coalition of Indiana. So I wanted to chat with her about the discourse around her piece. She humbly obliged.
The following conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
So my first question is kind of a broad one and perhaps a suitable polemic to open with: are data center moratoria (bans) “slopulism”?
Haha, oh no. I don’t know if I have a working definition of that term.
“Slopulism” is colloquially known as low-effort or performative populism slop that is focused on emotional gratification and elite resentment instead of substantive policy.
I think, sometimes? Moratoria have been proposed at a lot of different levels in a lot of different forms. With the national moratorium, as written in the AI Data Center Moratorium Act [proposed by Senator Bernie Sanders and Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez], I thought from a rhetorical and textual standpoint it was a pretty amazing document. I just don’t think it’s a great policy proposal, so maybe that’s a little bit closer, but I don’t think people working on that theory of change would see it as slopulism. They’re thinking of this as a negotiating tactic and thinking, how do we leverage this moment and make it clear to the tech industry they don’t have social license?
I wouldn’t personally call it slopulism. I just don’t think it’ll work. I don’t think it's effective but I'm not big on labels.
Personally, I come down sort of where you’re at on the yes-and-no kind of tack. There’s definitely some vibes based stuff going on, which you address in your piece, but historically there’s a pretty long legacy of advocacy campaigns for, well, let’s ban this until we’ve finished regulating it.
You write part of why a moratoria push can be a dead end is that the right and left coalitions pushing to stop data centers have different interests on other issues and that it may not follow that stopping data centers will result in a clean energy buildout, or the social policies to address job displacement.
When you talk about the left-right coalition, help me understand what’s driving the opposition and why you think it’s happening the way it is?
I think there’s a lot of layers here. It’s pretty complex. It’s well established there are left-right coalitions. I don’t think we have a great body of social science research but I think that is a solid working assumption. So I think the people who are a part of this, it’s easy for them to come together and stop a thing that’s happening near them. But I don’t think they’re going to agree on how we build a decarbonized, resilient grid. The people in that coalition are going to have vastly different perspectives on whether we want to decarbonize, what measures are feasible and worth paying for to get there. Same thing when it comes to the thornier questions about AI governance. The solution set is just not something the members of that coalition are going to agree on.
So it feels maybe on the ground like this really cool moment about rising up against these big forces. It’s cool. I get it. I was actually very much on board with that a while ago. And my views on that have shifted. I don’t think it’s going to be productive unless it’s coupled with a lot of very real coalition building work I don’t see happening.
I’ve had conversations with environmental activists about that issue. I did a Q&A with someone from Public Citizen about this particular issue right after the national data center moratoria was introduced with Senator Sanders. I asked, do you have any concerns about pushing for a moratoria on new tech infrastructure when this tool is also used by those trying to stop solar, wind and batteries? Is there any concern that in some communities it’ll go from data centers to renewables?
I wondered reading your piece if this is part of what you’re getting at here, that this backlash doesn’t necessarily seem to be rooted as much in a transition away from fossil fuels or building lots of new renewable energy.
I think in the absence of systematic research, it’s one of these things where people can see it the way they want, through their own lens.
I’ve been following this in a few different places in the country, especially through online Facebook groups, and there is a noticeable overlap between some of those Facebook groups and the content and many of the anti-renewable groups I follow. Some of the themes remind me of this piece I wrote about para-environmentalism. There’s a lot of places where it dips into conspiracy and fears about new technology, electro-magnetic radiation, sorts of places where a data center is mundane but can take on creepy, supernatural overtones in some of these groups. Before I was studying para-environmentalism more generally I was thinking we really need this left-right coalition to rise up against these companies. Now I’m much more cautious about where it’ll lead.
I know Twitter isn’t real life, but the discourse around your work – those who have criticized it – are saying, why can’t we do both? Why can’t we go after the data center sector without potentially heading towards that form of politics you’re afraid of?
I don’t think it's the moratoria necessarily but the left-right blocking approach.
There’s a couple things I want to make discernments about. I want to make a discernment between people who want to stop a data center and a moratorium that’s more of a blanket, larger regional or national thing. I do think there are data centers being sited in really bad places, under really bad agreements. They shouldn’t move forward.
There’s bad data centers and there’s okay data centers and we need to be discerning between them. There’s also normal processes in this country for siting large facilities, whether they’re county level zoning commissions and something else.
But to your question of why can’t we do both, we could have a viable left-right anti-tech organizing that makes real demand for how we go about the lithium and AI age if people were investing in the social infrastructure necessary to make that happen. We’re very far from it because the framing of stopping a thing… We need people who are convening real conversations about what to do. I think they’re focused on stopping a thing.
I don’t know if they’re focused on whether we need universal basic income, a public wealth fund or something else, in a way that’s across the aisle. That would be a whole movement building infrastructure and it’s one we need if we’re going to decarbonize.
But that’s not what I am seeing – I’m seeing NGOs funded by wealthy and non-transparent donor-advised funds focused on some parts of the country and not others. We’re not getting to having those conversations happening or even having a shared media reality.
Can you go a bit deeper on how a situation where there is a national moratoria results in equity concerns? How are those less fortunate hurt by that?
There are three things I am concerned about. The first thing is that people who are better organized because they have more resources say we need a national moratoria which pushes development to regions with weaker organizing. Maybe they have weaker environmental and social regulations. I’m concerned about that because there’s a huge history of that happening across different regions and industries.
The second thing I am concerned about is driving up the cost of computation in ways that would make AI less affordable and accessible for people who may be able to use it for a variety of things. I realize that’s controversial for the segment of the population who thinks AI is useless but I think it’s tremendously valuable and I want a world where everybody has access to these capabilities and I think it’s made less likely by making computation less expensive.
The third thing, which I didn’t have room in my piece to address, is to what extent this moment is about the data centers. This is a new focus for the climate movement, which is understandable because there’s been a sideshift away from climate and the Trump administration has put everything in such a dire place that they need wins to hold on to. I’m worried about whether that displaces energy and funding away from other environmental issues. Are we taking space away from other priority areas? I’m not saying we know about those things but these are concerns we need to focus on. And if they’re not concerns, that’s good news. But we should think of them.
On that note, on the bigger question, do you believe artificial intelligence and these data centers are a net positive or a net negative for the effort to solve for climate change?
I think it’s too soon to say what the net effect will be and that net effect will be indirect. We can count the carbon emissions from these and say, great we have a whole new industrial sector to contend with among all these other industries we’re trying to decarbonize. And it’s bad from that point of view.
Then you have efficiencies that AI might discover. I have no clue about the extent of that.
Then you have AI impacting the information ecosystem, what they want to believe and what they want to do. Maybe the greatest impacts of AI will be it causes people to take climate more seriously. Or ways through social media that convince people it is a hoax.
It’s hard to measure all these factors and speculations against each other. So I have no idea what the net effect will be on climate and I don’t believe anyone who says they know what it’ll be at this point.
But the data centers – from your perspective, is this boom helping or hurting?
I think it’s definitely a setback. But if I look at the whole picture of climate change I think this is more tractable than some of the challenges we have with decarbonization. Number one, we know how to decarbonize data centers. It’s a lot harder than something like cement where we don’t know how to stop the emissions themselves. I think agriculture is really challenging to decarbonize – it’s mixed up in what people eat and land use. Data centers is a problem. But it seems tractable because of that.
We also have all these people working on this. All of these climate professionals who’ve pivoted to framing their work into being about AI. I think we have the knowledge and the personnel to do it. If I compare data centers to other parts of decarbonization, it’s not on the top of my list of things I’m worried about. But it is tough – we knew we had this many tonnes to deal with and now we’re adding things. It’s a challenge but I want to have perspective about the challenge.
Can I close on a fun question?
Sure.
What’s the last song you listened to?
Oh, gee. It was some terrible ‘80s song because my kind is really into that kind of music right now. The one that sticks out is “Sunglasses At Night,” which is always playing in the Buffalo airport.