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To manage the clean energy transition, it may have to get into the leveraged buyout game.

The United States produces more natural gas and crude oil than any other country ― it isn’t even a contest. But these “molecules of U.S. freedom” aren’t free: They’re extracted and transported through a network of rigs, drills, pumps, and pipes that are, increasingly, controlled and operated by myriad private equity companies. As a society, we have a strong interest in winding down these climate-polluting assets in a swift yet orderly fashion. But as businesses, their private equity owners don’t.
Over the past decade, pressure from shareholders and activists has succeeded in pushing many fossil fuel majors to consider how best to reduce their emissions. (Although that, too, has come at a cost.) But rather than winding down or cleaning up their most polluting and least profitable assets, many have instead simply divested. Coal companies in West Virginia have sold off their mines to undercapitalized vulture firms, which rely on continued coal sales to (in theory) pay for expensive environmental remediation costs. The same is happening in the oil and gas industry, where private equity firms have rolled up many of the drilling sites and pipelines, the capillaries and veins of the country’s energy infrastructure.
Shielded from the scrutiny of public markets, private equity funds have thus become some of the country’s top methane emitters by asset ownership in the natural gas sector. These opaque owners, capitalizing on other companies’ disinterest in holding high-emitting assets, are betting that fossil fuel infrastructure will keep paying out for quite some time; recent massive increases in expected energy demand have only juiced this trend toward industry consolidation.
Private equity firms and private debt funds, with their short-term profit horizons, concealed balance sheets, and seeming imperviousness to tighter financial regulation and shareholder activism, work well with fossil fuel assets, particularly those sold at fire-sale prices by publicly traded fossil fuel majors. Despite those assets’ long-term market value instability, their near-term cash flow prospects are what matter.
But what’s been good for fossil fuel majors’ balance sheets has been bad for the planet. Many of these buyout firms — well-capitalized private equity funds and scrappy vulture funds, alike — are not budgeting anywhere near enough for environmental remediation. One company, Diversified Energy Co, has been purchasing the rights to operate almost-depleted natural gas wellheads at scale, extending many of their lifespans by decades; far too few wellheads are closed each year to stem the methane spewing unimpeded into the atmosphere.
Rather than accept a situation where utilities and fossil fuel majors toss their liabilities to unaccountable vulture funds, sustainability-conscious investors and shareholder groups have begun screening transactions for responsible asset phaseout plans. But the lack of a binding set of transition standards has revealed a huge coordination problem: What counts as a responsible phaseout, particularly when private asset owners get to decide? The federal government has put down guidelines, but not its foot. A disorganized drawdown of assets under a patchy regulatory framework, without a doubt, leaves vulnerable communities on the hook for the financial, environmental, and health damages.
Progressive analysts have long argued that nationalizing fossil fuel assets and folding them into a state holding company is the best solution to sidestep this particular problem. The federal government is well staffed with energy and electricity experts who, operating under a public mandate to preserve grid reliability, can phase out fossil fuel assets on a unified, coherent timeline responsive to community needs while continuing to operate those assets as the “peaker” or “reserve” capacity required to ensure grid stability. A series of climate shocks has even convinced conservative leaders in Texas of the importance of public power for grid resilience, achieved through state ownership of “peaker” gas plants. This course of action is far worse than investments in, say, battery capacity ― California, for instance, is now reaping the benefits of massive battery deployment, which reduces the state’s need for gas ― but the logic behind building public reserve capacity is sound.
What advocates of a state holding company-type model do not often discuss is how exactly a government goes about acquiring all these soon-to-be-stranded fossil fuel assets. As just one example, a recent proposal from the Roosevelt Institute suggests that a state holding company should be “free to engage in debt financing, make equity investments, and acquire assets.” Sure, proposals like these are meant to buttress the case for why nationalization is a far better way to achieve a managed phaseout than surrendering that process to yield-seeking investors, not to detail the financial mechanics of a buyout. But still: this is vague!
Actually thinking through the specifics suggests that, interestingly enough, a comprehensive state-led buyout program could work a lot like an existing private equity transaction, for two key reasons.
Before we get there, we should separate private equity’s deserved reputation as an opaque asset owner from the way the industry works. Private equity’s calling card, the “leveraged buyout,” is little more than the act of raising debt to 1) purchase equity in and, therefore, ownership over an asset, and 2) refinance the asset’s liabilities. To do so, private equity funds work with banks or, more commonly these days, private debt or private credit funds, to raise debt that is generally backed by the combined assets of the purchaser firm and purchased asset.
But leveraged buyouts themselves are technically something that any financial institution could do. Take the federal government, the country’s most liquid debt issuer, whose debt anchors the global economy and backstops private financial institutions. It could raise debt (leverage) to finance a buyout of fossil fuel assets at interest rates far lower than private investors could. And because private credit funds, like other institutional investors, already buy loads of government bonds to match their liabilities and hedge their risks, this kind of nationwide leveraged buyout ― which would require substantial new debt issuance ― could actually help stabilize the financial system against potential shocks from within notoriously inscrutable private markets. The government can do exactly what private equity does, only a lot better, and with wider benefits.
The government has already planted the seeds of a leveraged buyout program across the country’s coal ash heaps. The Loan Programs Office, thanks to the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law and the Inflation Reduction Act, now offers far-below-market-rate loan guarantees to developers, including state governments and utility companies, seeking to repurpose fossil fuel assets through its Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment program. This program’s authority allows borrowers to use their financing for “refinancing outstanding indebtedness directly associated with eligible Energy Infrastructure.” All policymakers have to do now is scrap the program’s 2026 end date and, ideally, endow a federal institution with the power to borrow from this authority to purchase and refinance fossil fuel assets, rather than leave that task solely in the hands of state governments and utilities, with their varying capacities for and interest in coordinating a coherent phaseout plan. And now that interest rates are poised to fall, this refinancing becomes much cheaper.
That’s reason number one. Reason number two has to do with private equity funds’ ability to shield the assets in their portfolio from valuation volatility on publicly traded stock markets. Private equity funds need not publicize how much their portfolios are worth, except at infrequent intervals and when they sell assets. But thanks to private equity’s reputation as a high-return investment, fund investors pay a premium for the illiquidity of not always knowing the value of their assets. Purchase assets, juice returns, sell, and repeat ― this is the conventional private equity playbook.
But macroeconomic conditions today are such that private equity companies are now struggling to sell their portfolios. High interest rates have made leveraged buyouts of new assets and refinancing debts on unsold assets much more costly, and have tempered rapid asset value growth. As this once-frenetic industry slows down, funds are anxious to get assets off their books ― hence the recent wave of consolidation.
This is an opportune moment for the Feds to step in. It’s not just that the government’s capacity for undertaking leveraged buyouts is the greatest; more importantly, it never needs to sell. The valuation volatility that first prompts fossil fuel majors to divest from dying, dangerous assets yet incentivizes private equity funds to pump as much as they can out of them to resell them later at a profit is simply not something the federal government needs to worry about. A state holding company can siphon distressed assets off public markets and shut down the “merry-go-round” of asset sales and resales.
Objections to government intervention here are likely premised on the fact that, well, it’s the government. But the government would still be purchasing assets from private owners on financial markets, just like any market actor would. Today’s uncoordinated constellation of private fossil fuel firms and funds, on the other hand, cannot manage a coordinated phaseout, especially not under binding profitability constraints ― which the federal government does not share.
Local communities can’t finance phaseouts or cleanups themselves, and leaving hundreds of billions of dollars worth of stranded assets in the hands of under-regulated private firms will only accelerate climate catastrophe. The government must use the financial techniques that private equity funds have already pioneered to bring them to heel, in service of public goals.
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A small but growing share of counties are targeting data centers, solar farms, and battery storage systems at the same time.
I’ve got an update for you on the data center backlash — and what it could mean for the governor’s race in Wisconsin, one of the country’s most important state-level battles in the upcoming midterms.
Last week, I wrote about how the Republican congressman and Wisconsin gubernatorial candidate Tom Tiffany was trying to turn the data center issue into a kind of trojan horse for slowing down renewables. Tiffany claimed to be anti-data-center, but he was really looking to apply new and stricter rules to clean energy development, as well.
Over the weekend, Tiffany said the quiet part loud. “David Crowley wants to cover our farmland with industrial-scale wind, solar, and data centers,” he posted on X. (He also started calling his opponent “Data Center David Crowley.”) Tiffany vowed to “protect Wisconsin farmland,” picking up on the idea — already used by the Trump administration to stymie solar development — that renewables threaten the integrity of agricultural land.
Now Crowley isn’t nearly as pro-data-center as Tiffany claims, although he has said the computing facilities should run on 100% clean energy. Yet Tiffany's accusation made me curious: How many local governments now see data centers and renewables as a package deal — and a farmland-threatening incursion that should be blocked? Back in March, my colleague Jael Holzman has covered how data centers are turning Americans against renewables. Are we seeing that on the ground?
Our market intelligence service Heatmap Pro tracks local laws affecting clean energy, batteries, and data centers. I asked the Pro team to look at how many local governments have now banned all three types of infrastructure — communities with what you might call a “none of the above” policy.
There’s mostly good news in the results for renewables advocates. The number of towns and counties that have blocked data centers, solar, and batteries remains small. As of late last week, 21 counties across the country have an active restriction or moratorium on solar, batteries, and data centers combined.
Another 10 counties have banned either data centers and solar, or data centers and batteries, but not all three. Six cities or municipalities have placed combined restrictions on the technologies nationwide.
The bad news: The number is growing fast. Most of these “none-of-the-above” restrictions were passed in 2026, and the overwhelming majority are in the rural Midwest and Great Plains. Kansas, Iowa, and Indiana account for most of the moratoriums or restrictive laws.
Not all of the restrictions are new. Although most of these multi-technology restrictions get passed at the same time, a handful of counties blocked solar and batteries first, then tacked on data centers later. Dickinson County, Kansas, for instance, has long blocked solar and batteries. But this spring, as the data center boom came along, the county’s leaders extended that moratorium to apply to data centers and all forms of energy development — including natural gas.
Overall, the scale of the trend remains small. Less than 10% of data center restrictions nationwide also target clean energy. That’s good news for renewable developers because the number of data center ordinances is surging. More than 530 data center restrictions are now on the books nationwide, and most restrictions have come in the past 12 months.
And what about the Wisconsin election? As of right now, only one county in America’s Dairyland has restricted data centers and batteries together. None have restricted solar, wind, and batteries. But Tiffany does seem to be tapping into a much larger zeitgeist. When you look at the stated reasons why communities nationwide are adopting these policies, farmland protection ranks high on the list. When it comes to permitting politics, in other words, farmland looks like the next frontier.
There are lots of reasons why that might seem like a good idea, but I urge you to learn from my mistakes.
All I wanted was to drive an electric car to the solar eclipse. But after the third consecutive charging port RFID reader wouldn’t accept my credit card and finding that the employees inside the attached Spanish hotel restaurant mostly didn’t speak English, I began to feel as though, just maybe, this hadn’t been my best idea.
Opting for an EV as a rental car can be an attractive proposition. For a longtime electric driver like me, it’s the opportunity to avoid car emissions even when on holiday, and to try out the experience in another country. For others, it could be a way to save money while on vacation in countries with even more expensive gasoline than America’s, or perhaps to try out electric driving before taking the plunge on buying an EV back home.
My advice, though? Don’t — at least not yet. The reason is that road-tripping on vacation is not only different from the driving you do back home, it’s also the worst kind for using an EV, especially for a newbie. The experience might lead you to believe, incorrectly, that the EV experience is just like this.
I admit, I had high hopes. Europe as a whole is far ahead of the United States in EV adoption, and its denser built environment means fewer long, open expanses between the kinds of cities that would have charging stations. Spain isn’t nearly as far along with EVs as the Scandinavian or the low countries, where electric cars are already a majority of cars on the road, or nearly there. But it is ahead of the U.S. So I figured driving around the country to see the total solar eclipse in a Peugeot E-5008 electric SUV would be a manageable task.
The first problem is time. Here in California, I’ve come to terms with the fact that driving long distances in an EV adds minutes. There’s simply no way to replicate the five-minute pump-and-go gas station stop, but when it comes to dealing with the slog of freeway travel from L.A. to the Bay Area, for example, I’ve come to enjoy taking a longer charging stop to breathe as opposed to making the best possible time on a car trip. On vacation, though, there’s no time to lose.
And it’s not just charging itself that takes time. Unless you rent a Tesla and enjoy the seamless experience of its Superchargers, you’re stuck with the same annoyances that have vexed so many EV early adopters in the U.S.: busted chargers, hit-or-miss credit card readers, and juggling a variety of phone apps to interact with all the various brands of charging stations one might encounter. It’s also, frankly, just mentally taxing to think about all this in a new country and a new car, the very opposite of what most people seek on holiday.
Driving abroad intensifies these grievances. In just five days of driving around Spain, I racked up five new phone apps dedicated to charging the car on different networks. (Electromaps! Movilidad! PowerGo! EnelEnergy! Zunder!). Sometimes this was out of desperation: I parked, plugged, and scanned multiple credit cards that the machine would not accept, finding pay-by-phone to be the only way to activate the machine. Of course, signing up for a new app is a 10-minute process that involves typing in endless fields of personal information just to add a few kilowatt-hours to one’s car battery. Not great when you’re already running behind, and doubly problematic if you had no or little cell service abroad and couldn’t download the necessary app at that moment. (Death to walled-off apps.)
Those chargers that did work typically ran far below their stated capacity, in the range of 70 kilowatts to 90 kilowatts of charging speed as opposed to the 180 kilowatts or 350 kilowatts they were rated to deliver. And when plugs are scarce, you have to take what you can get in terms of speed and amenities. I was overjoyed to find one that worked without much hassle in Basque Country — even though I had to ask one of the gas station employees to move her Volkswagen Passat that was ICEing a charger, and encountered an industrial stench from nearby petroleum production so strong I nearly vomited when I got out of the car.
The EV culture can be different, too. I’d hoped to charge at the plugs located in the parking garage of my hotel in Bilbao, Spain, but arrived home too late after eclipse traveling and found the lot full and locked. The nearby underground structure had plenty of charging spaces, but those were bring-your-own-cable chargers — something common in Europe that’s only now coming to the United States.
Despite the difficulties, the trip went off. We saw the spiritual experience of the eclipse through the cloudless skies of Burgos; we traveled around northern Spain without once having to buy gasoline at European prices. And while an inconvenient experience like this might be enough to dissuade someone from ever taking a chance on EVs again, it shouldn’t.
There’s a dichotomy in the electric car experience I’ve talked about ad nauseum. As detractors say, taking long road trips can be kind of annoying, and those annoyances run deeper in unfamiliar territory. But most of us don’t drive like we’re on vacation most of the time. We do our driving close to home, where electric cars are a better and more convenient experience if you can do much of your charging at home or work. Public charging still takes time. But in your own city and state, you already know the nearby ones you like and have all the necessary apps downloaded and filled out.
A more seamless time is coming, when charging stations are abundant everywhere and a simple, idiot-proof interface for plugging in is the standard. Until then, you’ll probably have a more relaxing vacation burning fossil fuels. Just don’t let that stop you from buying an EV.
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Moke sideswiped Hawaii yesterday just weeks after a weakened Hurricane Lala became the first major storm to hit the Big Island in decades • On the western fringe of the United States’ Pacific borders, Typhoon Saudel struck Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands over the weekend, bringing heavy rain and flooding • Temperatures in Khorramshahr, on Iran’s border with Iraq, are topping 118 degrees Fahrenheit, rendering the southwestern port city the hottest place on Earth.
With water levels in reservoirs across the American West at record lows, the Trump administration has directed Arizona, California, and Nevada to cut back on how much water they use from the Colorado River over the next two years. On Friday, the Department of the Interior imposed the reductions via a series of documents detailing a two-year and a 10-year plan to salvage the supplies from the drought-stricken river fed by snowmelt from Colorado’s stretch of the Rocky Mountains. As climate change has shifted snow patterns, levels on the river have dropped. Yet the seven states that depend on the water — the aforementioned three in the Lower Basin, and Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming in the Upper Basin — could not come to agreement among themselves on how to divvy up the dwindling supply. Instead, the Interior Department came up with a proposal that forced the Lower Basin states to pare back first. As you may recall, Arizona’s Democratic governor called the cuts “draconian” when the administration released its proposal in early August. The plan, which imposes short-term cuts while leaving a larger split for later, sets the stage for what E&E News predicted would be “a behemoth legal fight.”
When the Department of Energy announced a review last year of droves of grants the Biden administration had given for clean industrial projects, the nation’s leading green steel project appeared on the chopping block. Cleveland-Cliffs, the steel giant based in Vice President JD Vance’s hometown in Ohio, said it was renegotiating the $500 million grant that was supposed to fund construction of a modern, integrated mill that could increase U.S. steel production and allow the country to compete with China in selling lower-carbon material to Europe. More than a year later, the deal has finally been renegotiated. As expected, the money will now go instead toward upgrading a coal-fired blast furnace at the Middletown Works plant, Canary Media reported on Friday. Never mind the fact that Congress promulgated the money specifically for lower-carbon steel, making the shift “possibly illegal,” as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo reported last year.
Congestion costs on PJM Interconnection skyrocketed 43% to $6 billion during the first half of this year, up from $2.1 billion during the same period of 2025. That’s according to the grid’s independent watchdog, which last week warned that bottlenecks on high-voltage transmission lines during high-stress events such as storms or heat waves were now what Reuters put bluntly as “the single biggest driver of the increase in soaring wholesale electricity costs.” Across the U.S., July’s electricity bills were, in the frank words of Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin, “higher than ever.”
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Last week, the uranium miner Ur-Energy sent the first shipment from its mine in Wyoming, World Nuclear News reported Friday. That same day, the American subsidiary of the European uranium giant Urenco broke ground on its latest facility in the U.S., NucNet reported. Downstream, meanwhile, Standard Nuclear — a fuel manufacturer specializing in extra-expensive but extra-safe ceramic-coated fuel pellets called TRISO, which I have written about previously— just cut another deal with a major vendor.
I have a confession. Nearly a decade ago, I sat at my sister’s kitchen counter in Massachusetts after she gave birth to my niece, trying to write about the latest technology to come out from Tesla. Not yet burdened by its billionaire chief executive’s political baggage, the company was largely seen at the time as subverting preconceptions about the popularity of electric vehicles. Tesla’s erstwhile absorption of Musk’s former solar manufacturer, Solar City, only cemented the company’s status as an industry leader in producing and deploying panels domestically. The conventional wisdom, at least among some industry analysts at the time, was that any bet against Tesla was an ill-advised gamble against the lucky Mr. Musk. So, I wrote about it as a breakthrough. But the solar-generating roof tiles the company unveiled that fall when I was in New England turned out to be little more than a passing fantasy. Now Electrek has reported that the company plans to discontinue the product.

Say what you will about Spain’s solar records or America’s gas surge, nothing quite matches the enormous surge of power that is a new hydroelectric station. This week, Tanzania christened its largest-ever hydroelectric station, the Julius Nyerere Hydropower Dam, named for the country’s revolutionary first prime minister after independence. Mwananchi, the country’s largest newspaper, said the plant’s launch “opened a new chapter in Tanzania’s energy sector.”