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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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BAAJA would likely help speed up the U.S. transmission buildout, but there’s a chance we’re undercounting the benefits.
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As you may have seen, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo and I got the first look at the Rhodium Group’s analysis of what the bipartisan permitting bill will do to emissions.
You can read our story at Heatmap. The upshot is that the bill’s most significant provisions are likely neutral for climate change in a worst-case scenario — and could, in more optimistic scenarios, help reduce emissions. (Those scenarios aren’t about how the bill will be interpreted, to be clear, but about what might happen in the broader energy economy — with economic growth, for instance, or oil prices — that will feed back into the emissions math.)
I won’t give away much more about our story, but there is one irony I want to note about the Rhodium study and the broader morass of American electricity policy. One of the Rhodium study’s big findings is that BAAJA will help expand the transmission system. Power lines are essential for decarbonization because they move electricity from the country’s sunniest and windiest places to its cities, towns, and suburbs.
BAAJA will help transmission both because the law affirmatively expands the power grid and because the bill’s changes to environmental review law could help power lines. Today, for instance, it takes twice as long on average to conduct a federal environmental impact study for transmission lines as it does for pipelines, according to Rhodium data. All in all, the Rhodium analysis estimates BAAJA could increase the amount of new transmission capacity added per year by 167% to 262% nationwide, compared to the average rate over the past decade.
Which is very interesting. But it’s worth noting that the Rhodium analysis may — emphasis on may — undercount the bill’s transmission benefits. This is because the Rhodium authors did not have time to conduct a full network study of the U.S. transmission system, which would take into effect the grid’s physical footprint, power flows, and existing bottlenecks. Instead, they looked at power supply and demand within the context of the broader U.S. energy system.
That’s a reasonable decision; indeed, it was probably the only decision they could make. Because of how energy system models work, a more fulsome analysis might have taken weeks to complete, not to mention a very large amount of money and computational power. When the National Renewable Energy Lab studied how quickly Los Angeles could switch to 100% renewable energy earlier this decade, for instance, it ran such a study, modeling every transmission line and substation in LA. Its supercomputer wound up churning through more than 100 million simulations; the research effort took three years. If the Rhodium analysts had done even a fraction as much work to examine what BAAJA would mean for the country’s power grid, then they would have of course finished their analysis well after the window to vote on BAAJA would have closed.
One of the ironies here is that while the LA 100 study was particularly exhaustive, we actually require clean energy projects to conduct similar studies all the time. Right now, one of the primary reasons it takes so long to hook up a new power plant to the grid is that it has to undergo an interconnection study in many parts of the country. In those regions, a new solar farm or battery project can’t connect to the grid until operators study its effect on grid congestion everywhere else.
As it happens, BAAJA aims to fix this process, allowing power plants to join the grid in batches.
I want to note the irony that a process we mandate for the power sector is actually too slow to deliver speedy policy analysis to legislators. If Rhodium had tried to study BAAJA the way we make power plants study the grid, then it never would have delivered its verdict in time. If you think Congress is slow, in other words, you should meet the electricity sector.
Current conditions: The Pineapple Express, an atmospheric river originating in the Pacific near Hawaii, is arriving in the Southwest laden with heavy rain that’s set to flood the region • Indonesia has the worst air quality in the world as forest fires rage along Sumatra’s southern coast • A cross-country storm will soak much of the United States on Tuesday’s Election Day.
The Senate’s grand compromise to simplify federal permitting on energy projects would likely drop emissions slightly as the benefits to accelerating deployments of clean energy infrastructure outweigh the boost the legislation could give to fossil fuels. Even under the worst-case scenario, emissions remain on the same trajectory as today. That’s according to a hotly anticipated new analysis by the Rhodium Group, the consultancy whose U.S. emissions estimates are among the most widely cited in American politics. The report, shared first with my colleague Emily Pontecorvo, found that provisions in the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act largely counteract each other on climate. The bill makes building transmission lines much easier, a key step to patching more renewables onto the grid. But it also makes new gas pipelines simpler to permit, clearing the way for a buildout of the infrastructure for the fossil fuel already dominating U.S. electricity and heating systems. Still, under the best-case scenario, the legislation could cut U.S. economy-wide emissions by 5% below where they would otherwise go in 2040. The bill could also slash energy bills by $78 per year and support construction of more than 200 gigawatts of clean energy capacity, as compared to a world where it didn’t pass. The Rhodium report is at least the second analysis yet to find that the bill could modestly lower emissions. The first, as I reported last week, came from the think tank Resources for the Future, which saw a slight drop in power-sector emissions relative to a world without BAAJA.
If overhauling national permitting rules to make building green energy infrastructure easier doesn’t work to lower emissions, traditional negotiations in favor of regulations that can deliver cuts looks no more promising. Two weeks of United Nations-led talks in Armenia ended Saturday without a settled approach to meeting 2030 deadlines for preserving more nature. “We don’t need to spend more to close the biodiversity funding gap, we need to spend better,” Marina Von Weissenberg, a Finnish senior ministerial advisor, said in a statement. “Governments have a real opportunity here to reshape public spending with future generations in mind, but they can’t do it alone. International coordination is key to giving governments the confidence to lead change.”
Last week, my colleague Katie Brigham published a detailed feature highlighting China’s tightening grip over the global supply chain for electrolyzers, the technology that zaps water with electricity to separate the molecule’s hydrogen from its oxygen and harvest the former as fuel. Keen readers of this newsletter recognize the story. Even before the Iran War, China had beefed up its public support for green hydrogen and related technologies. After the conflict constricted the flow of oil through the Strait of Hormuz, the People’s Republic redoubled its efforts. Quite literally. New data from the National Energy Administration shows that investments into the hydrogen industry doubled in the first nine months of this year, according to Hydrogen Insight.
Fermi America went public in a gangbusters initial public offering last year as the company, with a board of directors including former Texas governor and U.S. Secretary of Energy Rick Perry, pledged to build the world’s largest data center and power the facility with gas and four large-scale Westinghouse AP1000 nuclear reactors. In April, the chief executive and chief financial officer quit. The board room drama continued into the next month. The company’s stock recovered somewhat over the summer as investors bet on a turnaround pegged to a series of deals with companies looking to lease space on its future servers. But fresh chaos enveloped the startup Friday when The Texas Tribune reported that Perry had failed to earn enough support from the board of directors to win reelection to his seat.
In a statement posted to X on Friday evening, Fermi said that neither Perry nor investor Jeffrey Stein had been removed from the company’s board. “In fact, both Governor Perry and Jeffrey Stein received a majority of the votes cast by shareholders,” the statement read. “Let’s be clear: Governor Perry and Mr. Stein remain members of Fermi’s Board of Directors and will continue serving until their successors are duly elected. Both remain eligible for reelection.”
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If you thought the fine particulate matter from last year’s catastrophic Los Angeles firestorm was bad, you weren’t thinking imaginatively enough about just how dangerous all that airborne material could be. A new study published in the journal Science Advances suggests that upward of 7 million people were exposed to high levels of airborne lead and other toxic metals released when homes and vehicles caught flame. The January 2025 Eaton inferno that destroyed more than 9,400 buildings and killed 19 people spewed 80 times the normal concentration of lead found in the atmosphere through a plume that settled over 70% of the Los Angeles metropolitan area. “I can envision that in the future we have these evacuation zones for smoke exposure as well,” Haroula Baliaka, the study’s lead author, who was a PhD candidate at Caltech last year, told Bloomberg. “Unfortunately, this is not a one-time event. It’s a new reality and we need to adapt to it and we need to do it sooner rather than later.”
The findings come a week after a study published in JAMA Pediatrics showed a link between wildfire smoke exposure during pregnancy and autism diagnoses in children. The research from Rutgers University examined 893,212 mother-child pairs enrolled in Medicaid, with children born between 2007 and 2014. Each increase of 0.75 micrograms per cubic meter in average concentrations of wildfire-related air pollution during pregnancy was associated with a 30% higher risk of a subsequent autism diagnosis. Exposure in the second and third trimesters had the highest risk. “Wildfire smoke can travel far beyond the communities where fires are burning, and exposure may occur even when smoke is not visible,” Stefania Papatheodorou, an epidemiologist at the Rutgers School of Public Health and lead author of the study, said in a press release. “Our findings highlight the importance of awareness of wildfire events and their potential effects on air quality during pregnancy.”
The United Kingdom is building out more than 10 gigawatts of offshore wind as London looks to shore up its electricity supplies amid the global energy shock. But Chancellor of the Exchequer John Healey said he would veto any offshore wind projects that don’t lower bills. While clean power is “how we break the grip of international gas prices on our bills,” he said the infrastructure “has to come at the right pace, in the right places, with the grid to carry it.” The statement fueled what The Guardian called “concerns that the government is moving away from the pro-renewables agenda.”
Meanwhile, the U.S. midterms aren’t the only election this week. In Sunday’s runoff election, Bulgaria’s pro-Russian acting President Iliana Iotova appeared to eke out a victory over the former prime minister Andrei Gyurov, a pro-Western banker. Her win unites the government with her close ally, Prime Minister Rumen Radev, ensuring stronger support for the leader’s two signature energy policies. One, a plan to build a pair of Westinghouse AP1000s at the Kozloduy nuclear plant, is scheduled to advance to the next planning stage next year. The other, the easing of sanctions on Russian uranium to ensure a supply of fuel for the plant’s existing reactors, looks likely to continue under Iotova’s friendly diplomacy with the Kremlin.
William Nordhaus, the pioneering Yale University economist who won the Nobel Prize in 2018 for integrating climate change into macroeconomic analysis, has died at 85 following a battle with an aggressive form of brain cancer. His nephew, Ted Nordhaus of the Breakthrough Institute, referred to his father, Robert Nordhaus, as “the original environmental lawyer and Bill as the original environmental economist,” he wrote in a blog post after his uncle’s passing. “It is safe to say that the Nordhaus brothers were doing environmental law and economics, respectively, long before either label existed. Not bad for two kids who grew up in the intellectual hotbed of Albuquerque, New Mexico, population 40,000, during and after the second world war.” Their legacies are something of the Nordhaus family brand: Pragmatism. May his memory be a blessing.
Even in the worst-case scenario, BAAJA wouldn’t increase emissions, an analysis by the Rhodium Group concludes.
The bipartisan permitting reform bill is likely to slightly cut greenhouse gas emissions and lower electricity bills by 2040 — or at worst leave emissions on the same trajectory that they are on today — as compared to the status quo, according to a new analysis of many of its provisions by the Rhodium Group, an independent research firm.
The analysis examines the policies in the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act, or BAAJA, that would have the most-clear cut effects on climate pollution and the energy system. It is the most comprehensive account of the bill’s effects on emissions so far, although it does not examine all of its provisions.
The bill is hard to analyze because — unlike recent partisan energy bills, such as the Inflation Reduction Act or President Trump’s tax and spending bill — its effects on the climate are more ambiguous and often seem to counteract each other. BAAJA will make it easier to build not only long-distance transmission lines, which are essential for clean energy, but also natural gas pipelines, which can expand fossil fuel production.
Yet the climate benefits likely outweigh or balance out the harms, at least among the studied policies, the report finds. In the best case scenario, the bill could cut U.S. economy-wide emissions by 4%, reduce energy bills by $78 per year, and drive more than 200 gigawatts of new clean energy capacity by 2040, compared to status quo policy. In a worst case scenario, greenhouse gas emissions would remain unchanged on their current trajectory.
The results should be viewed as more directionally instructive than a precise accounting of the legislation, Ben King, an energy and climate director at Rhodium, told me.
“We don’t see emissions increasing because of the bill,” King said. “This bill should drive some emission reductions, it should drive some more clean energy on the grid, and it should drive electricity bills down. And given the complexity of the bill, that’s what we can say at this point.”
The analysis does not look at the bill’s permitting certainty provisions, which Democrats initially sought to stop President Trump’s war on wind but have become one of its thorniest sections. Rhodium’s modeling is also a crude tool for assessing transmission policy, since the model can look only at economic inputs such as supply and demand, and not the physical reality of the U.S. grid, such as where transmission lines run or where the bottlenecks are.
It is the second analysis to find that the bill could modestly lower carbon pollution. A more limited report focusing only on the power grid, published last week by the think tank Resources for the Future, found the legislation could cut electricity emissions by 6% while reducing electricity system costs by $350 billion through 2050.
The effects of the bill may sound small, but BAAJA is not a climate bill. It’s not engineered to reduce reliance on fossil fuels or boost clean energy technologies. Its overarching purpose is to address various federal bottlenecks that bog down America’s ability to build stuff, whether that’s a pipeline or a highway or a power line or a solar farm. So it’s not entirely surprising that it’s not expected to have a dramatic effect on emissions.
The reason it’s a priority for Senate climate champions is that many of its provisions are important precursors to decarbonizing the U.S. economy more quickly. By enabling faster expansion of the power grid, the bill would put the country in a much better position to transition to clean energy. After Joe Biden’s big climate bill, the Inflation Reduction Act, passed in 2022, Princeton University researchers found that the country’s slow buildout of transmission lines would be a major obstacle to gleaning the law’s benefits. Unless the country more than doubled the rate of transmission expansion, they wrote, more than 80% of the IRA’s emission reduction potential by 2030 would be lost.
BAAJA could nearly triple the build rate of high-voltage transmission, the Rhodium Group found, from an average of about 0.7 terawatt-miles added per year over the past decade to an average annual pace of 1.9 to 2.6 terawatt-miles through 2040. Because Republicans and President Trump have repealed so many of the IRA’s provisions, this won’t drive as much clean energy as the Princeton researchers expected, but Rhodium estimates that by 2040, BAAJA would help between 17 and 249 gigawatts of clean resources get built compared to a world without it.
The growing grid is the main reason why the bill cuts energy costs, because it enables more lower-cost resources to connect to the grid. The bill’s requirement that data centers pay the full cost of connecting to the grid also puts downward pressure on electricity rates.
“If your goal is to do climate policy in the future, this is an important down payment to making progress there,” King said.
The authors studied the bill’s provisions under a range of economic assumptions, including a “best case” scenario in which clean energy gets cheaper and easily outcompetes natural gas, and a “worst case” scenario where natural gas prices collapse and the inexpensive fuel keeps dominating the U.S. energy system.

The authors limited their analysis to the bill’s provisions that speed up transmission line and natural gas pipeline permitting. They assumed that when you make it easier to approve transmission lines, the lines get cheaper to build and get built more quickly. The same goes for gas pipelines. Then they looked at how the energy system would respond. Would we build more power plants? Would there be more natural gas production? Where will that gas go?
The caveats, aside from omitting the bill’s “project certainty” provisions, are that they did not account for policies that support geothermal energy, virtual power plants, advanced transmission technologies, or the ways in which the bill would reduce congestion on the grid — all of which could result in fewer emissions. At the same time, the modeling assumes that all of the data centers that get built between now and 2040 connect to the grid, even though today, many data centers are planning to run on inefficient off-grid natural gas plants. That means this modeling likely underestimates emissions from data centers. (Although the authors did a separate exercise that went deeper into data centers, which I’ll explain shortly.)
The report also limited its analysis to the United States. While the modeling found that liquified natural gas exports would increase by 8% to 15% under BAAJA, the authors did not account for how those exports could affect the energy mix or emissions in the rest of the world.
They found that the bill’s changes to the Clean Water Act and the National Environmental Policy Act would enable more gas pipeline development, which, in isolation, would increase emissions relative to a world without BAAJA. More pipelines means more production of oil and natural gas, which means higher methane and CO2 emissions throughout the fossil supply chain. Under a worst case scenario, they estimate a 4% increase in the amount of new gas capacity, although gas-fired generation as a whole increases by less than 1% in 2040. Even then, emissions would simply be flat compared to current expectations.
“On net, the emissions increases that we see there are outweighed by the emissions benefits that come from the transmission provisions of the bill,” King said.
The report also studied how BAAJA might affect data center emissions. Its “base case” scenario — which includes all the analysis I’ve shared with you so far — assumes data centers will make up about 17% of electricity demand by 2040. That figure already supposes huge growth in data center energy consumption, because data centers only use about 5% of U.S. electricity today.
But what if data center demand grows even faster than that? The authors modeled two additional scenarios to see what would happen if data center electricity demand instead accounted for more than a quarter of U.S. electricity demand in 2040.
While BAAJA would make it easier for data centers to connect to the grid, it also includes ratepayer protection provisions that would make it more expensive to do so — roughly 10% more for a 1 gigawatt data center, Rhodium estimates. Determining whether that will drive developers on-grid or off-grid was beyond the scope of the analysis, so the modelers looked at the two extremes — a world where all additional data center demand hooks up to the grid and one where none of it does.
For the on-grid scenario, whether or not that additional demand is met with mostly gas plants or cleaner sources largely depends on the price of fossil versus clean generation. But even if most of the demand was met by natural gas plants on the grid, emissions would still be 30% lower than if it was met by natural gas plants off the grid, Rhodium found.
Editor’s note: This article originally misstated the scope and timing of electricity systems savings in the Resources for the Future study. It has been corrected in this version.