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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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The president set an August deadline to deliver guidance for companies trying to qualifying for clean energy tax credits. Four months later — and two weeks before new rules are set to kick in — they’re still waiting.
The One Big Beautiful Bill Act included a morass of new rules for companies trying to claim clean energy tax credits. Some of the most restrictive go into effect January 1 — in other words, in about two weeks. And yet the Trump administration has yet to publish guidance clarifying what companies will need to do to comply, leaving them largely in the dark about how future projects will ultimately pencil out.
At a high level, the rules constrain supply chain options for clean energy developers and manufacturers. Any wind, solar, battery, geothermal, nuclear, or other type of clean generation project that starts construction in the new year — as well as any factory that produces parts for these industries in the new year — and wants to claim the tax credits will have to purge their products and facilities of components sourced from “foreign entities of concern.”
Foreign entities of concern, or FEOCs, are companies that are “owned by, controlled by, or subject to the jurisdiction” of foreign adversaries of the United States — namely China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea.
Companies are already subject to rules under the OBBBA that require them to prove that neither they themselves, nor their projects, are influenced or “effectively controlled” by FEOCs. These requirements, too, lack formal guidance from the Treasury, although tax credit experts told me it was somewhat easier to guess at how to comply with them.
Still, this is all a big new costly headache for developers. Before the OBBBA, the only tax credit that came with such constraints was the consumer subsidy for electric vehicles. Companies developing clean energy generation or manufacturing projects in the U.S. could acquire materials, seek out investment, or buy technology licenses from anyone they wanted and still get federal subsidies. Now obtaining the latter two from Chinese entities is effectively banned.
Come January 1, companies will still be able to source materials from China, but only to a degree. Say you’re a battery storage developer that’s trying to qualify for the 48e clean electricity investment tax credit. Starting next year you’ll have to not just ensure but also document that no more than 45% of the value of the material inputs to the project come from a Chinese owned or influenced company. The rules tighten over time, going down to 25% after 2029. (For other types of clean power generation, the starting threshold is 60%.)
All of that would be difficult enough. But the law itself didn’t specify how to calculate that percentage, leaving it up to the Treasury department to provide further instructions. A few days after signing the OBBBA in July, President Trump issued an executive order directing the Secretary of the Treasury to issue guidance for the FEOC restrictions within 45 days of the law’s enactment. That put the due date in mid-August, which came and went with no clarity for clean energy companies.
Storage developers aren’t sure whether they can base their calculations on the value of finished battery cells, for example, or if they’ll also need to consider the origins and values of subcomponents like anodes and cathodes, or even the critical minerals within those parts.
The Treasury Department did not respond to emailed questions about an updated timeline.
“The further upstream you go, the more difficult,” Mike Hall, the CEO of Anza Renewables, a supply chain data and analytics firm, told me. “That’s one of the fears that I’ve heard. You go upstream enough, then it just becomes impossible, at least in the short term.” China currently dominates the supply chain for batteries, controlling more than 95% of global production of key minerals like manganese and graphite and cell components like lithium-iron-phosphate cathodes and anodes.
In the interim, developers are allowed to follow instructions issued by the Biden administration for tallying up the amount of domestic content in a project and apply the same method to calculate the ratio of FEOC-produced materials. But that won’t work for everyone, David Burton, a partner at the law firm Norton Rose Fulbright, told me, since that earlier document only covers wind, solar, and battery generation projects. For companies deploying fuel cells, geothermal power, or renewable natural gas, for instance, “it’s really just, you know, a coin toss as to how the rules are going to work,” he said.
Beckett Woodworth, a manager of federal credits and incentives at the advisory firm Baker Tilly, told me that another point of confusion is whether tariffs must be included in the calculation. Incorporating the cost of tariffs would inflate the value of any products sourced from China, making it much more difficult to meet the prescribed threshold.
All this uncertainty — and the ultimate guidance itself — matters more for some project types than others. Few large-scale wind and solar developers, for instance, will have to contend with the FEOC material restrictions.
That’s because wind and solar farms face another deadline on July 4 of next year. If they start construction before that date, they will have four years to connect to the grid and still be eligible for the investment or production tax credits, known as ITC and PTC. If they start construction after that date, however, they’ll have to race to become operational before 2028 in order to remain eligible. While smaller projects like rooftop and community solar might be able to work within that timeline, it’s likely impossible for utility-scale projects.
“For large-scale projects, if you don’t get started by next July, you’re not going to hit the ITC deadline anyway,” Hall told me. That means most wind and solar developers only really have to worry about complying with the FEOC rules for the next six months.
Many wind and solar developers will already have their hands full come January 1, and may not even try to add more during that six-month period. Everyone I spoke to told me that companies have been racing to safe harbor as many projects as possible before the rules take effect in the new year. According to a safe harbor provision published by the Treasury in August, developers can claim they “started construction” this year as long as they completed “physical work of a significant nature” before January 1. That could include paving a road at a project site or simply placing an order for a major piece of equipment, like a transformer.
“The industry will have a backlog of safe harbored projects to work on,” Burton said. “It’s going to take a while to work through that backlog and actually have this be a problem.” He shared a research note with me from Roth Capital Partners, an investment bank, which forecast that utility-scale solar would continue to grow year-on-year in 2026 and 2027, largely due to the volume of safe-harbored projects. (This prediction was also based on the assertion that there was “potential for a relaxing of the Trump permitting chokehold,” a reference to the administration’s effective moratorium on solar projects requiring federal approvals.)
The picture is a little different for other types of generation and for clean energy manufacturing, because tax credits for those projects extend for several more years. In the energy research firm Wood Mackenzie’s latest U.S. Energy Storage Monitor report, it wrote that storage installations could drop by 10% in 2027 due to uncertainty over the pending FEOC regulations. “Projects that are not safe harbored in 2025 are at risk if additional FEOC-compliant supply does not materialize in the near-term,” the report says.
Hall said that ultimately, the FEOC rules would probably be a bigger issue for manufacturing projects than for power generation, since many U.S. solar and battery factories have some amount of Chinese ownership or licensing deals with Chinese companies. A number of U.S. solar manufacturers have already started to sell their Chinese ownership stakes, according to the trade magazine Solar Power World. And that’s without knowing exactly what the rules will compel them to do.
The biggest open question in all this is whether the Trump administration will use the FEOC guidance as another opportunity to shut down the clean energy industries it doesn’t like. It’s possible to write a version of the rules that make the tax credits impossible to claim, Burton told me, but he’s optimistic that won’t happen. The subsidies’ Republican defenders in Congress, including Senators Chuck Grassley and Susan Collins, would “have a fit,” he said. “So I don't think they're gonna be vindictive about it.”
On vulnerable batteries, Canada’s about face, and France’s double down
Current conditions: New York City is digging out from upward of six inches of snow • Storm Emilia is deluging Spain with as much as 10 inches of rain • South Africa and Southern Australia are both at high risk of wildfires.
Last month, I told you about China’s latest attempt at fusion diplomacy, uniting more than 10 countries including France and the United Kingdom in an alliance to work together on the holy grail energy source. Over the weekend, The New York Times published a sweeping feature on China’s domestic fusion efforts, highlighting just how much Beijing is outspending the West on making the technology long mocked as “the energy source of tomorrow that always will be” a reality today. China went from spending nothing on fusion energy in 2021 to making investments this year that outmatch the rest of the world’s efforts combined. Consider this point of comparison: The Chinese government and private investors poured $2.1 billion into a new state-owned fusion company just the summer. That investment alone, the Times noted, is two and half times the U.S. Department of Energy’s annual fusion budget.
Still, the race between the two countries is heating up. Cumulative investment in fusion energy soared 30% between June and September to $15 billion, up from a little over $11 billion, according to a report by the European Union’s F4E Fusion Observatory written up by NucNet. That fusion is, as Heatmap's Katie Brigham has written, “finally, possibly, almost” arriving at the same time that data centers to power artificial intelligence are driving up electricity demand is fortuitous. Or, it would be, if AI doesn’t end up proving to be inflated by hype. On Friday, Wall Street showed jitters over the possibility that the bubble may burst, sending shares of companies such as Oracle and Nvidia plunging. It begs the question Katie raised in another story in September: What if we get fusion, but we don’t need it?
The South Korean battery manufacturer SK On canceled its partnership to work on electric vehicles with the Ford Motor Company, throwing the fate of the two companies’ three factories in the American Southeast into jeopardy. The announcement, E&E News reported, also casts doubt over the $9.6 billion loan the Biden administration gave the joint venture, known as Blue Oval SK. The collaboration came as American automakers teamed up with Korean battery companies to hasten the establishment of an EV supply chain. General Motors inked a deal with LG Energy Solution and Ford with SK On. But as sales of EVs flatline — due in part to President Donald Trump axing the federal tax credit for purchases of new electric vehicles — the nascent supply networks are withering on the vine. Ford isn’t down for the count, however. In August, as I wrote in the newsletter at the time, the company unveiled what it billed as its “Model T moment” for EVs, a whole new assembly line structure meant to scale up and iron out production of battery-powered cars.

Prime Minister Mark Carney has scrapped Canada’s carbon tax, inked major oil and gas deals, and pumped the brakes on a scheme to boost electric vehicle sales. Now the leader of the Liberal Party is facing blowback from allies and sustainability-minded executives who say the reversals put Canada’s net-zero goals out of reach. The former environment minister, Steven Guilbeault, quit the cabinet in protest, as have two founding members of the federal government’s Net Zero Advisory Body. “From a climate-science standpoint, this risks undermining the urgency of emissions reduction,” Paul Polman, the former chief executive of home-goods giant Unilever and a campaigner for sustainable capitalism, told the Financial Times. “Betting heavily on unproven massive-scale CCS [carbon capture and storage] and a cleaner-oil narrative while accelerating production ... seems like a gamble with global emissions targets, and with the credibility of net zero by 2050. Gambling with firm science does not seem smart to me.”
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Utility-scale battery storage systems are facing increased risk of cyberattack from hackers working either for governments or criminal groups. That’s according to a white paper from the consultancies Brattle Group and Dragos. Battery deployments are expected to grow by as much as 45% in the next five years, raising the need for new protections against digital meddling. “Battery storage systems are being used across the grid to enable the deployment of variable demand sources such as solar and wind,” Phil Tonkin, field chief technology officer at Dragos, told Utility Dive’s sister publication Cybersecurity Dive. “This growing dependence makes them an attractive target.” Even relatively small-scale attacks can have devastating consequences. A single outage involving a 100-megawatt system for four hours in the U.S. would cost up to $1.2 million in revenue, the report found. A large-scale cyber attack that takes out 3,000 megawatts for a day would take a $39 million toll on the economy. Dragos is currently tracking as many as 18 groups that “are known to pose a threat to the electrical grid.”
Canada may be taking a U turn on climate policy, but France just updated its National Low-Carbon Strategy with an end date for using fossil fuels. The document “foresees the end of oil use between 2040 and 2045,” France24 reported, with natural gas phasing out by 2050. France is far ahead of most developed countries toward decarbonizing its power system since the nation has generated the majority of its electricity from nuclear reactors since the late 20th century. Under the plan, the French government expected electricity consumption to increase as heat pumps replace furnaces and electric vehicles swap in for diesel cars. Renewables are expected to cover the increase in electricity production.
Conspiracy theorists who think condensation trails from airplanes are some kind of population-control chemical may have their hands full with the paranoia fodder that geoengineering efforts represent. But actual scientists at Leipzig University have made a discovery about contrails’ effect on warming. The researchers found that “hidden” contrails within naturally forming cirrus clouds — previously not factored into assessments — contribute up to 10% of the warming all contrails cause. “We now know that not only the visible contrails we see in the sky but also those that form within clouds need to be taken into account when assessing the impact of aviation on the climate,” Torsten Seelig, the study's lead author, said in a statement.
The seminal global climate agreement changed the world, just not in the way we thought it would.
Ten years ago today, the world’s countries adopted the Paris Agreement, the first global treaty to combat climate change. For the first time ever, and after decades of failure, the world’s countries agreed to a single international climate treaty — one that applied to developed and developing countries alike.
Since then, international climate diplomacy has played out on what is, more or less, the Paris Agreement’s calendar. The quasi-quinquennial rhythm of countries setting goals, reviewing them, and then making new ones has held since 2015. A global pandemic has killed millions of people; Russia has invaded Ukraine; coups and revolutions have begun and ended — and the United States has joined and left and rejoined the treaty, then left again — yet its basic framework has remained.
Perhaps you can tell: I am not among those who believe that the treaty has been a failure, although it would be difficult — in this politically arid moment — to call it a complete success. Yet the ensuing decade has seen real progress in limiting global temperature rise. When negotiators gathered to finalize the agreement, it seemed likely that global average temperatures could rise by 4 degrees Celsius by 2100, as compared to their pre-industrial level. Today, a rise from 2.5 to 3 degrees Celsius seems more likely.
And for a document that is often described as non-binding, or even as hortatory, Paris has had a surprisingly material influence on global politics in the ensuing years. During the negotiations, the small-island states — the three dozen or so countries most affected by near-term sea-level rise — successfully got the final text to recognize a “stretch goal” of limiting warming to just 1.5 degrees above pre-industrial levels. They also tasked the United Nations’ advisory scientific body to prepare a special report on the virtues of avoiding 1.5 degrees of warming. When that report was released in 2018, it catalyzed a new wave of global climate action, spawning the European Green Deal — and eventually the U.S. Inflation Reduction Act.
Yet there is at least one way that Paris did not go as imagined.
Cast your mind back to Paris 10 years ago, right as diplomats filed in and began to applaud the final text’s completion. “This is a tremendous victory for all of our citizens — not for any one country or any one bloc, but for everybody here who has worked so hard to bring us across the finish line,” John Kerry, then the U.S. secretary of state, declared to his fellow diplomats.
It was a strange kind of victory. After decades in which western liberals had attempted to secure a globally binding climate treaty — an agreement that would limit each country’s greenhouse gas emissions — the world finally won a non-binding alternative. Under the Paris Agreement, each country would pledge to cut its emissions by as much as it could manage. Countries would then meet regularly to review these pledges, encourage each other to get more ambitious, and gradually ratchet the world into a lower-carbon future.
Kerry was reasonably direct about how such a mechanism would work: capital markets. “We are sending literally a critical message to the global marketplace,” he said. “Many of us here know that it won’t be governments that actually make the decision or find the product, the new technology, the saving grace of this challenge. It will be the genius of the American spirit.”
He was right, in a way: The Paris Agreement did send a signal to the global marketplace— and it did so in part because governments did shape policy and investment outcomes, not because they resisted doing so. But it did not reveal the genius of the American spirit, per se.
In the years running up to and following the Paris Agreement, China rolled out a series of important policies to boost its new energy sectors — a roadmap encouraging “new energy vehicle” sales in 2012, billions of consumer subsidies beginning in 2014, and a domestic content mandate for electric-vehicle batteries in 2015. These programs — along with canny decisions made by Chinese entrepreneurs and engineers, and no small amount of demand pull from companies and policies in the West — have transformed the world’s approach to decarbonization. They have begun to change even what decarbonization means — in the United States, in the western democracies, and around the world.
Ten years ago, Kerry could assume that any eventual solution to climate change would be geopolitically neutral, if not advantageous to the United States. But in 2025, to a degree that commentators still hesitate to describe, the climate story has become the China story. Across a range of sectors, how a country approaches its near-term decarbonization goals depends on how it understands and relates to the Chinese government and Chinese companies.
Consider the power sector, which generates just under a third of all greenhouse gas emissions globally. For many countries, the best way to cut carbon pollution — and to add more power generation to the grid — will be to build new utility-scale solar and battery projects. That will all but require working with Chinese firms, which dominate 80% of the solar supply chain. (They command up to 98% market share for some pieces of equipment, according to the International Energy Agency.)
It is much the same story in the grid-scale battery industry. China produces more than three-quarters of the world’s batteries, and it refines most of the minerals that go into those batteries. Its batteries are at least 20% cheaper than those made in Europe or North America. Most of the world’s top battery firms are Chinese — in part because they have more experience than anyone else; the country’s firms have manufactured 70% of all lithium-ion batteries ever produced. Nearly two dozen countries have bought at least $500 million in Chinese-made batteries this year, according to the think tank Ember.
What if a country wants to build wind turbines, not batteries? Even then, it will have to work to buy non-Chinese products. Although European and American firms have long led among turbine makers, six of the top 10 wind turbine manufacturers are now in mainland China, according to BloombergNEF. And for the first time since analysts’ rankings began in 2013, none of the world’s top three turbine makers are North American or European.
Transportation generates another 13% of global climate emissions. If a country wants to tackle that sector, then it will find itself (again) working with China — which made more than 70% of the world’s EVs in 2024. Thanks to the country’s sprawling battery and electronics-making ecosystem, its home-grown automakers — BYD, Geely, Xiaomi, and others — can produce more affordable, innovative, and desirable EVs at greater scale and at lower cost than automakers anywhere else. “The competitive reality is that the Chinese are the 700-pound gorilla in the EV industry,” Jim Farley, the CEO of Ford, said recently. As the scholar Ilaria Mazzocco put it in a recent report: “Chinese companies are ubiquitous in the value chain for EVs and battery components, meaning that for most countries, climate policy is now at least in part linked to policy toward China, and more specifically trade with China.”
That insight — that climate policy is now linked to policy toward China — will apply more and more, even when countries wish to tackle the remaining third of emissions that come from energy-related sources. Earlier this year, China approved a plan to build roughly 100 low-carbon industrial parks by 2030, where its firms will develop new ways to capture carbon, make steel, and refine chemicals without carbon pollution. (The Trump administration revoked funding for similar low-carbon projects in the U.S. earlier this year.) At the same time, China is building more conventional nuclear reactors than the rest of the world combined, and it may be pulling ahead of the United States in the race to develop commercial fusion.
This wasn’t inevitable. It happened because Chinese politicians, executives, and engineers decided to make it happen — choices owing as much to the government’s focus on energy security as to its concern for the global environmental commons. But it was also the result of American business leaders and politicians squandering this country’s leadership in climate technologies — and especially the result of choices made by Trump administration officials, who at nearly every opportunity have regarded batteries and electric vehicles as a technological sideshow to the more profitable oil and gas sector.
It was the Trump administration, after all, that licensed and then eventually gave U.S.-funded research on flow batteries to a Chinese company in 2017. It was the Trump administration that gutted fuel economy and clean car rules in 2018 and 2019, setting the American car industry back compared to its Chinese and European competitors. And it was the Trump administration and congressional Republicans that killed electric vehicle tax credits earlier this year, further choking off investment.
For progressives, this all might suggest a pleasant parable: China embraced the energy transition, and America didn’t, and now America is paying for it. Nowadays, commentators often invoke China’s clean energy dominance to inspire awe at its accomplishments. And how can you not, in truth, be impressed? China’s industrial miracle — its move to the frontier of global technological development — is the most important story of the past quarter century. The scale of the Chinese consumer market and the success of Chinese industrial policy (or, at least, its success so far) has wrenched world history in new directions. And Chinese companies have done humanity a great service by bringing down the cost of solar panels, batteries, and EVs on the supply side, even if they did so at first with demand-side assistance from policies in California or Europe.
But climate advocates in North America and Europe cannot be completely sanguine about what this development means globally. For environmentalists and other western liberals who have worked in decarbonization for decades, it will in particular require some rhetorical and political adjustment. We cannot pretend that we are playing by the 1990s’ rules, nor that environmental activism is but one part of a post-1970s progressive coalition, which is free to make demands and ignore inconvenient trade-offs. Basic questions of decarbonization policy now have patent geopolitical significance, which environmental groups attempt to side-step at their own peril.
Yet it isn’t only Americans or Europeans who must answer these questions. China’s dominance of decarbonization technology means that for the time being, every country on Earth must address this dynamic. When the scholar Mazzocco looked at how six countries around the world are approaching Chinese EVs, she found an uneven landscape, she told me on a recent podcast. Costa Rica, which has long embraced climate policy, has welcomed Chinese-made EVs; Brazil opened its doors to them but has now begun to close it.
Most major countries have some form of domestic automaking industry; no country will be able to sit back and passively allow Chinese exports to drive their local automakers out of business. At the same time, China’s manufacturing primacy is already making conventional export-driven growth less attractive for countries. And that will only be the beginning of the dilemmas to come. As long as going green requires buying and integrating Chinese technologies into critical infrastructure, environmental policymakers will be wagering decarbonization’s success on some of the world’s highest stakes geopolitical bets.
Environmentalists have long insisted climate change is a national security issue, but are we ready to think and act like it is? Do Western anxieties about a large and globalized war — either a Chinese invasion of Taiwan, a Russian invasion of the EU, or both — reflect a reasonable response to a real and growing menace, or an elite panic driven by our declining economic primacy? If China were to invade Taiwan, what would that mean for climate and energy policy — not only in the West, but around the world? Would American or European environmentalists even get a vote on that question — and if they do, how would they balance emissions reduction against other goals? If the unthinkable happens, we will all be called to account.
A decade ago, I remember watching the live stream of the world’s diplomats applauding their own success in Paris and realizing that I would be seeing that video in documentaries and news reels for the rest of my life. How will I see it then? I wondered. Would it strike me as the naivete of a simpler time, an era when liberal internationalism still seemed possible? Or would it really reflect a turning point, the moment when the world took the climate challenge seriously, pragmatically, and began to decarbonize in earnest? A decade later, I still don’t know. Perhaps the answer is both.