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A slew of sector-specific issues — including, surprisingly, the methodical rollout of the Inflation Reduction Act — have recently made for a bumpy ride.

A hiccup?
A speed bump?
A snag?
Whatever you want to call it when investors become harder to reach, suppliers drive a harder bargain, and new hires get delayed, the climate-tech and renewables industries seem to be experiencing it.
Since the year began, the pace of new investment in climate-tech and renewables companies has slowed. High interest rates are starting to make some projects unattractive. And a slew of sector-specific issues — including Silicon Valley Bank’s collapse and, surprisingly, the methodical rollout of the Inflation Reduction Act — are causing leaders across climate-related companies to tap the brakes.
“I do think it’s a softening of the market,” Tim Latimer, the CEO of Fervo Energy, a Houston-based geothermal startup, told me. “Without a doubt, it’s more difficult and it takes longer to close funding rounds today than it did 12 or 24 months ago.”
“There’s definitely been a little bit of a slowdown,” Jorge Vargas, the cofounder and CEO of Aspen Power Partners, a renewables developer, said.
Last quarter, venture-capital investment in climate-tech startups dropped to its lowest level since the spring of 2020, according to Pitchbook data. The total value of deals fell 36% since the previous quarter and is down 51% since 2021’s all-time high.
In raw totals, there were only 279 climate-tech deals completed in the first three months of the year — the lowest level since 2019, according to Pitchbook.
“People made a variety of bets over the past 36 months as capital — which was long overdue — came into climate tech,” Latimer said. “Now people are being a little bit more discerning about which companies and teams are hitting their milestones.”
“It’s nowhere near as pronounced as what we’ve seen in the tech space,” he added.
The industry clearly isn’t in crisis yet. New climate-focused venture funds are still opening. By any measure, climate-tech startups are having an easier time fundraising now than they did in the late 2010s, when less than $2 billion flowed into the space in some quarters, Pitchbook data shows.
Still, the pullback has caused some of the very youngest companies to delay hiring or reduce their headcount, Latimer said. At least one climate-tech unicorn has made a similar move. Last week, Arcadia, a climate-data and software provider last valued at $1.5 billion in December, laid off about 9% of its employees. The company had “almost 700” employees late last year.
“This painful but necessary decision was reached after carefully weighing Arcadia’s market-leading position against the uncertain outlook for the economy,” Gabriel Madway, the company’s vice president of communications, told me in a statement.
But Arcadia is an unusual climate-tech firm in some respects: Founded in 2014, it is nearing its 10th birthday, a de facto make-or-break moment for venture-funded companies. Most climate-tech startups are younger and have spent less of their investment. And the market for climate-curious engineers, programmers, and project managers is still brisk, by all reports. Climate-tech job boards such as Climatebase still show hundreds of open positions.
“Valuations were good enough in ‘21 and ‘22 that people raised fairly sizable [investment] rounds, and people have positioned their company so they have 18 months of runway,” Latimer, the Fervo CEO, said.
If leaders see a slowdown, that “means you would’ve grown 10x and now you’re growing 3x,” he told me. “If you zoom out on a five-year time horizon, it’s nothing. It’s at most a blip.”
Clay Dumas, a partner at the climate-focused fund Lower Carbon Capital, doubted that climate tech was in a serious moment of crisis. “While investors are catching their breath post-[Silicon Valley Bank], the tailwinds for climate tech are only gathering strength,” he told me in an email.
Whatever you want to call it — a blip? a breather? a gurgle? — most executives agreed that companies are dealing with two sector-specific sources of uncertainty beyond the broader, economy-wide fears of a recession. The largest might surprise environmental advocates: It’s President Joe Biden’s flagship climate law, the Inflation Reduction Act.
On paper, the Inflation Reduction Act, or IRA, should be good for anyone in the climate business. Since the act — initially forecast to spend $374 billion on climate — was passed last year, banks have fallen over themselves to publish new and engorged estimates of its impact. The law will pay out more than $800 billion, Credit Suisse analysts insisted in October. No, it will spend $1.2 trillion, and unleash another $3 trillion in private investment, a Goldman Sachs team replied last month.
No matter the topline number, just about everyone agrees the law will ultimately transform companies that work on climate change.
But for now, companies find themselves in a limbo where the law has been passed, and their suppliers and customers know the climate economy is about to boom — but the money hasn’t started to flow.
Although the Department of the Treasury and the IRS have set up programs for electric vehicles, they have yet to publish guidelines for some of the law’s most important tax credits, including those meant to boost the clean hydrogen industry or support renewables projects in low-income areas. The Department of Energy and the Environmental Protection Agency, which oversee some of the law’s largest targeted programs, are still setting up those opportunities or inviting organizations to apply for them.
That is making it hard for companies that will benefit from those programs to prepare for the future. “Not knowing when the incentives will hit the market makes it hard to do planning,” Andy Frank, the CEO of the home-weatherization company Sealed, told me. This could leave startups and companies less well staffed and less ready to take advantage of the IRA’s programs when they actually launch.
“If the whole goal of the IRA is to unlock private capital, the longer there is uncertainty as to what things will look like, then the longer private capital will sit on the sidelines,” Frank said. “On the other hand, if they announce rules tomorrow that are really crappy … then private capital will also sit on the side lines.”
The outlook was slightly different in renewables world, Vargas, the CEO of the renewable developer Aspen Power, said.
“We speak about a windfall, and everyone is excited, but it hasn’t trickled into the economics of projects. This stuff is barely scraping by,” Vargas, who used to lead Morgan Stanley’s solar financing office, said.
“The cost of building projects has increased because of [the] IRA,” he said. “After all the adders were announced — all the vendors, all the construction, they raised their prices. It’s just a passthrough.”
Latimer, the Fervo CEO, was more upbeat.
“We know that the IRA will be a generationally defining investment opportunity for anyone working in the clean energy sector,” he said. “But for specific technologies, for how fast and how quickly and how much capital they’ll need to scale up, we don’t know yet. The whole industry is waiting for more guidance on the law interpretation.”
At the same time, parts of the broader climate industry are just getting over a Silicon Valley Bank-shaped speed bump.
Silicon Valley Bank, or SVB, collapsed in March after suffering a run fueled by panicky investors. The bank was “an integral part of the early-stage climate tech community,” Gabriel Kra, a climate-focused venture capitalist, told me at the time. But the bank was particularly important for financing community solar projects, a type of large-scale solar farm that collectively benefits a pool of individuals, companies, or nonprofits. The bank said that it had financed 62% of all community-solar projects nationwide.
“Three to five years ago, SVB was one of the only shops in town,” Jeff Cramer, the president and chief executive of the Coalition for Community Solar, told me. “Now there are more banks that are comfortable with community solar.”
Still, the bank’s collapse problem set back Vargas’s company, Aspen Power. In early March, Aspen Power was in the final stages of closing a new lending arrangement with SVB. It also kept one of its cash accounts there.
Then SVB fell apart. “We thought, ‘Oh my God, we’re so screwed,’” Vargas told me, although he added that the firm had cash at another bank and was never in serious danger of missing payroll. Within days, the federal government stepped in to guarantee SVB’s depositors, and Aspen Power eventually opened a new lending facility with another bank.
The entire episode “slowed us down about three weeks,” he said.
“If you add in the SVB collapse and you add in uncertainty around [the IRA’s] business credits … there’s a bit of a hold” across the community solar industry, Cramer said. “It doesn’t mean that there’s uncertainty in those projects generally. It’s simply a matter of timeline that when it makes sense for those projects to energize.”
“If you go out three, four, years, I don’t think it will change the amount of [solar] capacity or number of customers overall,” he said.
A bit of a hold — a three-week delay — these things might seem like a hiccup, but they can be more destabilizing for companies that depend on a steady flow of new renewable projects coming online. The question for climate-tech and renewables companies — and the American economy — is whether the past month’s wobbles are the start of something more serious, or whether they’ll be forgotten by the summer. Dumas, the climate-focused venture capitalist, was optimistic.
“Profit motive, national security, cultural and corporate attitudes, plus more than a trillion dollars in government spending and AI-boosted discovery are all accelerating adoption of new products and technologies that [will] win,” he told me. “They’re better, faster, closer, [and] cheaper, on top of being lower carbon.”
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Facing down a sea change, the automaker has staked its next EV bet on a compact, sporty pickup.
“Full fathom five, your father lies,” the invisible spirit Ariel sings early in The Tempest, as a handsome and grieving prince listens, rapt. The song tells of a shipwrecked skeleton transforming into something else — its eyes have become pearls, and its bones pink coral — as it undergoes, yes, a “sea change.” It is the first time that phrase appears in the English language.
Ford is now facing its own kind of sea change. Over the past decade, the automaker has doubled down on its most profitable and exciting vehicles — pickups, SUVs, and the Mustang muscle car — and dropped from its line-up the cheap, boring cars that once made it famous. It embraced, then backed off, the transition to electric vehicles, in part because it failed to make money from them; and it began to reckon with the surge of cheaper, cleaner, and “far superior” EVs from Chinese producers that are transforming global auto markets around the world.
Locked into its aging but reliable line-up, yet unable to innovate at the low end, Ford might seem like the epitome of a company facing disruptive innovation. No wonder its stock has traded flat from where it was five years ago — even as the broader market has surged by more than 70%.
Its solution is an EV skunkworks, run by Tesla alumni, where it can develop a new “universal EV platform” to undergird future vehicles. Today, we got a peek at the first car to emerge from that secret shop: an all-electric compact pickup that will hit the roads by the end of next year. Its name? The Ford Fathom.
We know very little about the Fathom, as our correspondent Andrew Moseman wrote today. It will retail for just over $28,000, and even with mandatory delivery costs and other add-ons will stick to this side of $30,000. That makes it only a smidge more expensive than the gas-burning Ford Maverick, a sporty, compact, and popular pickup that starts around $27,000.
Ford promises that the Fathom will have as much seating capacity as Toyota’s RAV4, America’s best-selling car that isn’t a truck. (Ford’s own F-150, of course, holds the true No. 1 spot.) Those dimensions suggest the Fathom will sport a four-door crew cab, like the Maverick, making it more acceptable to families with kids — or young professionals who want to give their friends rides on the weekend. It will also have a frunk.
Beyond that, though, we don’t know much. We don’t know its range, for instance, and its price point shouldn’t inspire too much confidence on that front. Nor do we know, frankly, whether Ford can pull it off: When the automaker announced its first electric truck, the F-150 Lightning, in 2021, it claimed a price point of less than $40,000. Eighteen months of inflation later, it actually sold them for closer to $55,000 — and it still lost money on every EV that it made. Fixing the latter problem is part of why the skunkworks exists in the first place, and Ford now has an additional half-decade of experience making EVs. But consumers hoping for a miraculously priced electric pickup from the Blue Oval have been burned before.
If the Fathom disappoints, though, then consumers will soon have other options. The American car market is about to be deluged with sporty, compact pickup trucks — a welcome change from just a few years ago, when the segment was almost entirely dominated by mid-size and half-ton models. The Jeff Bezos-backed startup Slate will start delivering two-door, all-electric pickups starting at $25,000 at the end of this year. The automaker Stellantis, which owns the Dodge and Jeep brands, says it wants to bring another compact pickup — it’s almost more of a ute — called the Rampage to North America soon.
That’s welcome news for me — I love these little trucks — but I’m a little worried I’ll be outside my pickup-buying years by the time they actually make it to market. In the meantime, I’ll keep you posted on other updates about the Fathom. Will “sea nymphs hourly ring its knell”? No, but it will have Apple CarPlay and Android Auto.
The company confirmed its plans to market research company Cleanview.
The data center buildout has hit a new inflection point. It has long been true that artificial intelligence is fueling climate change by driving up power demand; more recently, tech companies have started directly financing new natural gas plants in their quest for AI glory. Now one is backing the biggest fossil fuel-fired power plant ever to exist in the United States — exclusively to power an AI data center complex.
That company is Amazon, according to the market research company Cleanview, which reported on Friday that the tech giant is building an AI data center campus in Texas powered by an up to 7.65-gigawatt off-grid natural gas plant.
That’s larger than any other power plant in the country — fossil or otherwise. The next biggest plant is the Grand Coulee hydroelectric plant in Washington State, at 7 gigawatts, followed by Arizona’s 4-gigawatt Palo Verde nuclear plant, and the West Count Energy Center, a 3.7-gigawatt natural gas plant in Florida.
The new power plant’s developer, Pacifico Energy, announced in January that it had secured permits from Texas regulators for the project, dubbed “GW Ranch.” The site is also permitted for up to 750 megawatts of solar and 1.8 gigawatts of battery energy storage.
It was not clear who the customer for all this energy would be until earlier this week, when Cleanview uncovered construction permits Amazon filed showing that the company owned the GW Ranch site. The company confirmed to Cleanview that it acquired the site and planned to buy power from Pacifico’s plant.
Not only will this natural gas plant be larger than the one in Florida, it will also use far less efficient technology. Pacifico’s permit says it plans to build 35 “simple cycle” generating units, which are typically installed in rarely-used peaker power plants and waste a lot more fuel potential than the modern “combined cycle” natural gas plants that serve as baseload power for the grid today. These more efficient turbines are essentially on backorder for years, and power-hungry developers have increasingly turned to the simpler versions as a quick fix as they race to bring facilities online.
According to its permit, the GW Ranch plant is allowed to emit as much as 33 million tons of CO2 per year. That’s twice as much as the most-polluting power plant in the country, the James H. Miller Jr. coal plant in Alabama, emitted in 2023, the most recent year for which data is available.
In a statement to Cleanview, an Amazon spokesperson said the company “believes in paying the full costs of powering our operations,” and that this Texas project “does just that: it’s powered by new on-site generation that won’t raise electricity costs for Texas families and designed to transition to grid-connected service as interconnection timelines allow.”
Some researchers disagree on that point, however. In an opinion piece for Utility Dive, Energy Innovation director Jeffrey Rissman and senior fellow Eric Gimon argue that the proliferation of off-grid natural gas generation for data centers will increase costs for regular people more than if the data centers connected to the grid, because they will be competing with utility companies for gas supply. “Data centers can buy gas in bulk and sign long-term contracts (as we’ve seen in Texas, Pennsylvania and New Mexico), giving them access to cheap gas, even if this unfairly drives up prices for everyone else,” they write.
Jane Flegal, a senior fellow at the Searchlight Institute, has also argued that building off-grid natural gas plants to serve data centers locks in emissions for decades because the plants don’t face competitive pressure from other resources. When a new natural gas plant is hooked up to the grid, by contrast, there’s a far greater chance that cheaper, cleaner resources will displace its generation over time.
The Rhodium Group recently developed a scoring system to help investors differentiate between projects that are likely to accelerate the energy transition, those that will have little effect one way or the other, and those that will actively slow it down. They used it to assess options for powering data centers, and found that off grid natural gas plants scored the worst, falling at the bottom of the latter category.
Regardless, Amazon still, somehow, asserts that it is committed to achieve net zero emissions by 2040.
The smoke pouring into Seattle from Spokane is particularly bad, but there’s also no such thing as good smoke.
I wrote this story from inside a cloud of smoke. Owing to some funky meteorology in the Seattle area this week — a pressure ridge paired with a thermal trough — the region’s usual westerly winds reversed, causing smoke from the fires burning in the eastern half of the state to pour through the mountain passes and river valleys of the Cascades and pool over the populous Puget Sound lowlands, where I live.
Though it’s cleared up some today, I’m still running my air purifier on full blast because I know what’s in the lingering smoke. Unlike the still blazing wildfires in Ontario that are burning through mostly uninhabited forests, the smoke in the Seattle area this week came to us partially from Spokane, where the Old Trails fire razed at least 700 buildings and homes last weekend. That means that beyond the usual organic matter associated with wildfire smoke, the pollution that has hung over Seattle has likely also contained particles and chemicals from burned plastics, batteries, cars, and household appliances.
But how can the average person be sure whether their wildfire smoke is the bad kind or the worse kind? (At least assuming that well-adjusted people do not obsessively watch the animations on AirNow.Gov, as I do.) I turned to Coty Jen, an associate professor of chemical engineering, and Albert Presto, a research professor of mechanical engineering, both of Carnegie Mellon University, to learn more about the chemistry of wildfire smoke.
“There is no safe smoke,” Jen said, setting me straight immediately. “It’s all bad. It will piss your body off.”
While it’s true that some smoke is more toxic than other smoke, what you might call the “all natural, organic” variety will still spike hospital emission rates and exacerbate pre-existing respiratory diseases, even if it is mostly burning trees.
Under ideal conditions, when cellulose or lignin — the main structural components of trees and plants as well as leaf litter and soil, the largest sources of carbon during a forest fire — heat up and combust, the chemical reaction creates carbon dioxide, water, heat, and light. But wildfires don’t burn cleanly, and the chemical reactions often stall midway through that process due to things like oxygen availability and temperature variation, producing intermediate products like carbon monoxide or partially broken-down bits of carbon, often called soot. The tiniest of these particles can be smaller than 2.5 micrometers across — 30 or more could fit across the width of a human hair — and are measured collectively as PM2.5, a catch-all term that refers to the size of the particle rather than what it is. What’s important, though, is that these particles are small enough to penetrate deep into our lungs and potentially enter our bloodstream, factors that add to the known mortality associated with PM2.5 exposure.
Different kinds of forests create different emissions — heavy duff, or leaf litter, which is common in pine forests, creates some of the densest smoke conditions. Wetter fuels also burn “dirtier,” creating more pollution. Different topographies also impact air quality in myriad ways; it’s no surprise that some of the worst pollution from the Spokane wildfires pooled in mountain valleys as a warm overhead layer of air trapped the particles near the ground.
Even “natural” wildfires can be extra toxic; burning eucalyptus, which grows in Southern California, is not something you want to inhale. Pine smoke can cause mutations in bacterial DNA, a common lab test for a substance’s potential to cause cancer. Wildfires that smolder are worse than those that burn fast; researchers have found that PM2.5 can be up to 70 times higher when fuels aren’t actively on fire. “You can even see this if you’ve ever built a fire yourself,” Presto explained. “There’s a period where everything is big and flaming, and then, if you’re burning a log, it eventually goes down to smoldering. The emissions are different.”
In the case of something like a house burning down in a wildfire, however, it’s not only cellulose and lignin combusting. “We’re good at engineering materials that are extremely robust, but when they burn, they release very exotic compounds,” Jen said. She pointed to the common plastic PVC, which is used for everything from exterior siding to plumbing and window frames. When it combusts, PVC releases chlorine, “which is very bad for you,” Jen told me. “It’s like how bleach is bad for you — it’s a pretty nasty chlorine compound. PVC isn’t releasing bleach, but it is releasing radical chlorine molecules that produce some crazy compounds.”
If you’re following a smoke event at home, the answer is “not really.” PM2.5 is measured in micrograms per cubic meter, which tells us how much small stuff is floating around, but not what that small stuff is. “It is pretty difficult to measure all the different compounds that wildfires, or broadly any pollution, will emit,” Jen said. “The easiest way to quantify it is to literally suck air onto a filter and measure how heavy it got.”
Measuring what exactly is in that mass requires instruments that cost in the ballpark of half a million dollars, which is not financially feasible at every air monitoring station, Jen went on. But while there are certainly academic applications for that kind of knowledge, a person trying to decide whether or not to go for their run in wildfire smoke doesn’t need that level of granularity.
“Some smoke is definitely more dangerous,” Jen said. “But as innocent bystanders, it’s not like we can pick and choose what smoke floats over to us. You just have to live with it, so the best mentality is to treat all smoke as bad.”
In a 2026 Science Advances study that attributed more than 24,000 deaths per year to wildfire smoke in the U.S., researchers found no safe threshold for PM2.5 exposure. Every 0.1 microgram per cubic meter increase in a county’s average annual PM2.5 from smoke was associated with nearly 5,600 excess deaths nationwide, even though most counties saw only trace amounts of smoke — about 0.4 micrograms per cubic meter a year. While it’s “orange sky” days, when the pollution spikes into triple-digit AQI numbers, that get the most media attention, even low exposure that you can’t smell or even see can be affecting your health.
PM2.5 is just one component of wildfire smoke — the other is gases, including benzene and formaldehyde. Many gases chemically transform as they move from where the fire is to where you inhale them. “The atmosphere is extremely oxidizing — it likes to add oxygen molecules onto compounds,” Jen said.
Some of those compounds react faster than others, “so it depends how downwind you are,” Jen went on. That’s why people closer to a wildfire — maybe a day or less downwind — get the distinctive campfire smell, mainly from the “young” vapors and volatile organic compounds. But for people on the East Coast who were subject to the Ontario smoke several weeks ago, the smoke had to travel several days to reach places like Pittsburgh and New York, and by then the sharper-smelling compounds had transformed into new pollutants like ozone.
The AQI only measures a few specific gases that are considered “criteria pollutants” under the Clean Air Act, which means, as Presto told me, “during these fires, you could emit a whole bunch of different other gases that don’t have an AQI number.”
Instead, you can look at the PM2.5 number to get the gist of how prevalent wildfire gases are. “If your PM 2.5 is high, it’s impossible for the bad gasses to be low,” Jen said. “The way we think about it is, there’s a bunch of junk on the particle, and if the same junk’s not also in the gas, it will evaporate off the particle into the gas. They always exist together.”
You might notice by now that I’ve written little about the actual AQI number, that score that appears on your weather app and runs from zero to 500 (or, confusingly, even higher). That’s because while the AQI is a great communication tool, it doesn’t offer us much in the way of the science of wildfire smoke.
The AQI measures five different pollutants — PM2.5, ozone, carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and nitrogen dioxide — with the EPA setting specific concentration thresholds for each one, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo has explained. “If local concentrations of any one of them tick up above those protective standards, the AQI will jump from green to a more alarming color,” she wrote. “The higher the level of pollution is, the higher the AQI and the darker the color will be.”
If you want to impress your friends, though, you ought to zero in specifically on the PM2.5 concentration — again, because the prevalence of the tiniest particulates is a good indicator of all the other gunk you can assume is in the air, too. (You can find the specific PM2.5 concentration usually by clicking for more information about the AQI on your weather app or checking IQ Air’s widget.) For example, at the time of this writing, my local PM2.5 concentration is 50 micrograms per cubic meter, more than triple the World Health Organization’s 15 micrograms per cubic meter threshold for 24-hour exposure. (The EPA’s 24-hour threshold is much more lenient, at 35 micrograms per cubic meter.)
When I asked Jen how she stays sane knowing all she knows about smoke exposure, she laughed. “I have just generally become more terrified of all campfires and all barbecues, but people already think I’m weird, so I might as well add to it,” she told me.
In all seriousness, though, she told me the answer is air filters, and her confidence in their ability to work. When wildfire smoke rolled through Pittsburgh, she had two running that she moved from room-to-room with her family, as well as a whole-house air filter. “We were getting PM2.5 concentrations in our house of about 80 micrograms per cubic meter when it was 150 outside,” she said. “But with the air filter on, we could drop that down to less than eight.”
Jen pointed out, though, that many people do not run their air filters properly. Filters are rated at their highest blower level, “so for them to be effective, you need to crank them to their highest setting to get all the air through,” she said. Most people keep their filters on auto or low because they’re so loud — myself included, until I learned otherwise.
Additionally, while an air filter is a rather large appliance, it really ought to be placed in the center of your room to be the most efficient, rather than up against a wall. (Again, my bad.) “When these wildfire events happen, the most effective place for the air filter is where you are, and you have to run it loud, which kind of sucks,” Jen said. “But it is better than breathing in gross air.”