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The CEO of Cleveland-Cliffs cast doubt on a new mill funded in part by $500 million in federal grants. What does that say about corporate commitments to decarbonization?

American steelmaker Cleveland-Cliffs cast doubt last week on the country’s most important green steel project. Chief executive Lourenco Goncalves suggested in an interview that the company was considering passing up $500 million of federal grants to build a new hydrogen-powered mill at its Middletown Works facility in Ohio, blaming fears that there won’t be buyers for the lower-carbon product, which he claimed could cost 40% more to produce than steel made by conventional methods. Cleveland-Cliffs later issued a short press release walking back Goncalves’s comments and reaffirming its commitment to the “transformational” project.
It’s, of course, possible that Goncalves was just expressing personal concerns that do not reflect the company’s official position. But either way, those doubts were not only real, but revealing about our prospects for decarbonization by mid-century.
First, the episode is a stark indictment of the many attempts to create demand for cleaner products by conjuring up corporate ambition on climate change. The entire rationale for cajoling corporations to quantify the emissions in their supply chains, known as Scope 3 emissions, has been to pressure them into sourcing greener inputs. The steel sector produces 7% to 9% of emissions globally: if it were a country, it would be the world’s third-biggest emitter after the United States and China. And steel represents the biggest single source of Scope 3 emissions for many companies in other industries — on the order of 40% to 45% for auto companies and as high as 85% for construction, for example. This makes steel a litmus test for whether Scope 3 footprinting and corporate commitments to green their supply chains are delivering as promised.
Worse, these types of steel buyers have ostensibly already been organized to show demand for green inputs. Before he stepped down as President Biden’s special envoy for climate, one of John Kerry’s cornerstone initiatives was the First Mover’s Coalition, an effort to secure advanced purchasing commitments from corporate buyers for green steel and other industrial materials. The fact that the coalition’s members – many of which are major steel buyers like Ford and General Motors – were not publically jumping all over the outputs of Cleveland-Cliffs’s heavily subsidized project is itself troubling. After all, while the green premium on steel may be significant, the material is typically a relatively cheap input into much more expensive, high value-added products.
Goncalves’s comments also underscore how uncomfortable incumbent industries perceive the jump to new, low-carbon products to be. Assume that the new Cleveland-Cliffs mill does in fact pencil out at the cost originally expected and that it has a reasonable prospect of finding offtakers. The company still says it has to invest $1.1 billion to complete the project. It is not really enough, in the logic of the market, for that investment to be profitable: It has to compete against the opportunity cost of alternative investments, including manufacturing conventional steel. Even if both outputs would find buyers, conventional steel may still be more profitable.
Now imagine the company is looking at the larger direction of the industry. If they don’t do this project, they may well forestall a shift to cleaner steel and be able to keep the sector chugging along more profitably for a little longer. Complete the project, and they may bring about changes that, while maybe inevitable, are uncomfortable for the industry. After all, Cleveland-Cliffs and U.S. Steel produce the vast majority of American primary steel; they are steel production in the United States – and so they get to shape its transformation.
This behavior is similar to that of the American car industry. U.S. automakers have largely conceded that electric vehicles will eventually overtake their combustion-engine counterparts, but they are still clinging to the better margins that gas-powered SUVs provide. The short-term profits are hard to pass up, even if it means getting farther behind EV first-movers like Tesla, BYD, and Hyundai. Once the technology pathway to a sector’s transition becomes clear — even when it feels inevitable — incumbents may still have an extremely hard time ripping off the bandaid.
It’s as if decarbonization is a massive marshmallow test for corporate America, and it’s failing.
There are essentially two ways out of this dilemma.
The first is that society will need to rely on new entrants to each sector to disrupt the status quo. Companies developing entirely novel steelmaking technologies like Boston Metals become more important to the steel transition than Cleveland-Cliffs, just as Tesla has been to the American EV market. Sublime Systems may be vital for green cement, just as Fervo Energy may be for enhanced geothermal. The problem with this approach is that it is extremely expensive to build projects in heavy industries like steel, so most pathways assume that even technology developed outside of the incumbents will get deployed by them (Sublime just this week announced a tie-up with cement giant Holcim).
This leads to option two: comprehensive industrial policy. Cleveland-Cliffs may want to see not only that one green project pencils out, but that strategic opportunities and risks favor going green. This might means measures like implementing a U.S. carbon border adjustment mechanism (CBAM) to prevent foreign competitors from dumping dirty steel, the government guaranteeing offtake using public procurement programs like Buy Clean and Contracts for Difference, and ultimately policy sticks like carbon pricing that send a long-term signal favoring clean products over polluting ones, instead of relying on corporate social responsibility for a demand signal.
To decarbonize the economy, we will probably have to rely both on more robust industrial policy and the sector disruption from new entrants. While the story of this Cleveland-Cliffs project is far from over, the company’s apparent hesitancy, like that of U.S. automakers, may be teaching us a lesson that we have to learn quickly if we want to see decarbonization any time soon.
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There is a heat wave in Europe, the world’s fastest warming continent. And so, as you may have heard, a perennial topic of online climate discourse has returned: Why don’t more Europeans have air conditioning?
I’m partially convinced this is psy op, or at least a figment of how social media organizes attention. I have a hypothesis that various “For You” page algorithms, especially that of the social network X, began to reward content that performed unusually well across national borders a few years ago. Since then, the amount of America vs. Europe content has surged. (Of course, writers have been comparing American and European lifestyles for much longer than that.)
Suffice it to say, though: It’s a fraught topic. I’ve assumed that as extreme heat gets worse as the climate changes, Europeans will simply get on with it and install AC, much as Americans in the Pacific Northwest have done. Yet there are cultural and regulatory obstacles to AC’s growth in Europe.
I’m sure I’ll write about it in the future, but for now I want to get a grip on the facts themselves. And so as a Friday special, I present to you — the facts about European AC, as I understand it:
Thanks so much for reading, and talk soon.
The movement against data centers is raising up a raison d'etre of the anti-renewables movement: protecting would-be farmland.
Farm owners and operators across the U.S. are winning national headlines almost every week for rejecting big dollar offers from data center developers. In Hanover County, Virginia, protestors are chanting “Grow Tomatoes, Not Data Centers.” In Pennsylvania and elsewhere, Republican legislators are mulling proposals to block the sale of so-called “prime farmland” for data center development. In Texas, the fight over data center development has engulfed the race for the state’s ag commissioner seat. In the Midwest, where agriculture reigns supreme, statewide races and congressional campaigns are slowly but surely being defined by the issue. Like in Nebraska where Austin Ahlman, an independent candidate running for Congress in Nebraska’s first district, told me he believes the data center backlash is reflective of a populist politics that broadly criticize elites and top-down control of the economy: “I think sometimes people misunderstand the anxieties of rural Americans when it comes to these data centers because a lot of their fears are about control long term.”
Unlike the farmland backlash around renewable energy development, the loudest critics are on the anti-monopolist left. On Wednesday, the prominent opposition group Food and Water Watch signaled farmland could soon be a watchword in the national data center debate – in a fashion analogous to what we’ve seen with renewable energy. The organization’s blog post entitled “The AI Data Center Boom Is Coming for Farmers” declared data centers verboten because of the threat they posed to “small and midsized family farmers.” Mitch Jones, deputy director of the campaign outfit, said he believes the threat to farmland is “a compelling reason to oppose data center development” but that his organization’s fight is primarily focused on protecting small business owners and an anti-monopoly sentiment.
“If data centers are coming into their areas, this puts even more pressure on them. It drives up the cost of their electricity, just as it does anyone else. It competes with them for water for crops, and it affects the value of their land in a perverse way,” Jones told me.
None of this should be surprising. An agricultural workforce has always been a good barometer for figuring out if a community will accept new infrastructure of any kind. We’ve seen as much time and time again with renewable energy, carbon capture, fossil energy and mining, just to name a few industries.
This same rule is true with data centers. In April, county commissioners in Kosciusko County, Indiana, unanimously rejected a Prologis data center; nearly 90% of acreage in Kosciusko County is being actively farmed, according to the Heatmap Pro database. Linn County, Iowa, in February enacted a rule severely restricting data center development in unincorporated areas; almost three-fourths of the land is used by the ag sector. A potential Amazon facility is causing heartburn in Clinton County, Ohio; nearly all land in the county is used for farming and utility-scale solar development has a recent history of conflict with landowners.
To be candid, I’m struck by the similarity in the backlash over siting data centers on farmland – a resemblance so close that some counties are starting to restrict renewable energy and data center development on farmland at the same time. This week, Eau Claire County, Wisconsin created a new “farmland preservation plan” discouraging utility-scale solar energy and data centers on any potential farmland. (More than 40% of land in this county is currently being used for farmland, according to Heatmap Pro.)
Jones at Food and Water Watch said his organization taking on the “protect farmland” mantle had nothing to do with the success this argument has had against renewable energy. “That thought never entered my head,” he told me, adding that if communities respond to the data center backlash by taking steps that short-circuit solar and wind too, that’s “a coincidence.”
I kept pressing. What if the pivot to farmland protection leads to more communities restricting renewable energy along with the data centers? “If you’re looking for a reason to oppose solar and wind, you can come up with that without having to attach data centers to it,” Jones said. “We’ve seen rural communities oppose solar and wind before data centers blew up across the country. It’s nothing new.”
And more of the week’s top news around project fights.
1. Virginia Beach, Virginia – The right-wing interest group lawsuit against Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind is now dead, concluding one of the wackier tales of the Trump 2.0 energy era.
2. Box Elder County, Utah – Call it the Box Elder County massacre.
3. Davidson County, Tennessee – We have the latest updates in the Nashville Zoo data center drama and they’re a doozy and a half.
4. Clark County, Ohio – Yet another utility-scale solar farm is in the Ohio state permitting graveyard.