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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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‘Our entire company was built for this purpose.’
After decades of stagnation, the nuclear industry has drummed up all kinds of ideas meant to revive the prospects for building reactors in the United States. Make the reactors smaller. Micro, even! Cool them with helium or molten salt instead of water. Invite the Koreans or Canadians to come teach us how to construct atomic power stations again.
Yet the startup bold enough to name itself The Nuclear Company launched in 2024 on a simpler thesis: Just go with the large-scale reactors we have built before, and construct them in bulk to bring down costs.
Essentially, do what the Chinese did.
While the U.S. struggled for 15 years to complete its first two Westinghouse AP1000s, the 1.1-gigawatt units designed at the dawn of this century to be America’s flagship nuclear technology, China built four in the same time period. Beijing then reverse-engineered the technology to make its own version with an entirely domestic supply chain. China now has 10 operating Hualong One reactors and at least 37 more on the way. The U.S. ultimately completed its first two AP1000s at Southern Company’s Alvin W. Vogtle Electric Generating Plant in eastern Georgia right around the same time.
The Nuclear Company was formed by hiring former managers who oversaw the Georgia project. Despite the Trump administration’s pledge to finance construction of at least 10 more large nuclear reactors, the only projects that have broken ground are new, first-of-a-kind small modular reactors that skeptics fear will face the same billion-dollar cost overruns that the AP1000s faced at Plant Vogtle — but without the same output of electricity to balance out the expenses.
On Wednesday morning, The Nuclear Company announced its most significant attempt at a Chinese-scale buildout yet. The firm unveiled plans to build 6.6 gigawatts of new, large-scale reactors at a greenfield site in Kentucky, along the Ohio River. Dubbed Prosperity One, the project would be located in Lewis County, on property once assembled for a coal-fired station that was later abandoned. The site sits half a mile from a 765-kilovolt transmission line that connects to PJM Interconnection, the nation’s second-largest and arguably most stressed grid system.
“Our entire company was built for this purpose,” Joe Klecha, The Nuclear Company’s chief nuclear officer and a former manager on the Plant Vogtle buildout, told me. “We recognize that this is different and unique in our country. We believe it’s very much needed.”
The project will begin with two reactors at a time; the Kentucky site has room for up to six. The Nuclear Company is already negotiating potential offtake agreements with electricity buyers to help finance construction, and it expects deals by next year. The company told me it has not yet decided whether it will run the Prosperity One as an independent power provider or sell the facility to a utility or another plant operator. “We are preserving all options and will make that decision as we pull the other partners onboard formally,” Klecha said.
Since its inception, The Nuclear Company has focused on the AP1000 as the most promising design in the U.S. That’s particularly true after the Nuclear Regulatory Commission certified the Vogtle Unit 4 design last week as the permanent, settled schematic for future AP1000s.
But Klecha left open the possibility of another technology. “The AP1000 is our basis for the site at this point, but we’ll continue to evaluate other options as we get through the site characterization,” he said. He expects that process to wrap up in “the first half of next year.”
The company’s options are limited, though. Last month, as I reported, South Korea agreed to help the U.S. build up to six new AP1000s at an as-yet-unspecified site in addition to constructing at least two APR1400s — that is, essentially the Korean version of the American technology. In theory, The Nuclear Company could build APR1400s, too. But it’s highly unlikely, since Westinghouse accused the state-owned Korea Electric Power Corporation of ripping off its technology for the APR1400 in 2022. That led to a yearslong lawsuit and settlement that gave the American company the right to demand royalties and keep Seoul out of markets where Westinghouse aims to compete.
The only other viable option is the ABWR. The world’s first so-called advanced reactor, the ABWR was built with General Electric’s boiling water reactor technology, which is used across about a third of the U.S. fleet. It serves as the second-most popular design after Westinghouse’s pressurized water reactor model. Japan successfully built four ABWRs over a decade from 1996 to 2006, and Taiwan nearly completed two before killing the project in a bid to phase out nuclear power altogether. The NRC certified the ABWR for construction in the U.S., but a project in southern Texas that aimed to build the first in the U.S. was scrapped about a decade ago.
“The ABWR has an impressive pedigree of construction success as well as experience being built to U.S. standards that is hard to find outside of the Vogtle project,” Brett Rampal, a veteran nuclear consultant who advises Deloitte and Veriten, told me. Still, he said, the AP1000 is the leading contender for the Kentucky site.
Rampal said Prosperity One represents a welcome break from how large-scale reactors have been planned in recent years. While most of the industry remains focused on small modular reactors, research I covered last month indicates the technologies could face worse cost problems than large-scale units, and the emerging consensus on building AP1000s focuses on expanding existing nuclear plants.
Indeed, The Nuclear Company’s first major deal was to help Brookfield Asset Management, which owns 51% of Westinghouse, complete a thwarted AP1000 project at the V.C. Summer plant in South Carolina. But other potential sites considered for new AP1000s included expansions of Florida Power & Light’s Turkey Point nuclear plant in Florida, the Tennessee Valley Authority’s Bellefonte nuclear station in Alabama, or even adding another two units to Plant Vogtle.
“A lot of the thoughts around AP1000s and large reactors have always been around existing or already-licensed sites,” Rampal said. “It’s very interesting to see TNC’s first project buck the trend of what folks have been talking about around the large reactor story in this country."
At least one thing is certain about The Nuclear Company’s approach: It will settle on one design. The company is animated by the need to avoid one of the U.S. nuclear industry’s biggest financial mistakes, known simply and derisively as “Whoops.” In 1983, the Washington Public Power Supply System — WPPSS — triggered what was then the largest municipal bond default in U.S. history after its buildout of several different reactor designs at once fell apart in a major boondoggle.
Building different reactors at Prosperity One “really goes against our mission, our vision, and our thesis as a company,” Klecha confirmed.
The key is repeating the same design over and over again so the project managers sort out the fastest, most efficient ways to build and workers hone skills in actually constructing the design. “Six AP1000 units on one site creates the scale and repetition needed to drive down costs and sends a strong signal to the supply chain,” Lin Yuan, the senior advisor at the Nuclear Scaling Initiative, a non-profit collaboration working to create the enabling commercial and policy conditions for safe and secure nuclear energy scaling, told me in an email. “Manufacturers and craft labor need to see a sustained order pipeline to invest in capacity, factory expansion, and training.”
Vogtle Unit 4 came online in 2024 roughly 30% cheaper and faster than Vogtle Unit 3, completed a year earlier. Klecha said that’s the minimum cost reduction The Nuclear Company expects for the first two reactors built at Prosperity One.
“The 30%, I would say, is the floor on the savings from the first unit to the second unit,” he said. “How do we capture those lessons? Obviously, our team’s experience. We have a pretty rigorous ‘lessons learned’ document.”
Soon, he hopes, there will be even more lessons learned — in concrete, rather than on paper.