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Inside Climeworks’ big experiment to wrest carbon from the air

In the spring of 2021, the world’s leading authority on energy published a “roadmap” for preventing the most catastrophic climate change scenarios. One of its conclusions was particularly daunting. Getting energy-related emissions down to net zero by 2050, the International Energy Agency said, would require “huge leaps in innovation.”
Existing technologies would be mostly sufficient to carry us down the carbon curve over the next decade. But after that, nearly half of the remaining work would have to come from solutions that, for all intents and purposes, did not exist yet. Some would only require retooling existing industries, like developing electric long-haul trucks and carbon-free steel. But others would have to be built from almost nothing and brought to market in record time.
What will it take to rapidly develop new solutions, especially those that involve costly physical infrastructure and which have essentially no commercial value today?
That’s the challenge facing Climeworks, the Swiss company developing machines to wrest carbon dioxide molecules directly from the air. In September 2021, a few months after the IEA’s landmark report came out, Climeworks switched on its first commercial-scale “direct air capture” facility, a feat of engineering it dubbed “Orca,” in Iceland.
The technology behind Orca is one of the top candidates to clean up the carbon already blanketing the Earth. It could also be used to balance out any stubborn, residual sources of greenhouse gases in the future, such as from agriculture or air travel, providing the “net” in net-zero. If we manage to scale up technologies like Orca to the point where we remove more carbon than we release, we could even begin cooling the planet.
As the largest carbon removal plant operating in the world, Orca is either trivial or one of the most important climate projects built in the last decade, depending on how you look at it. It was designed to capture approximately 4,000 metric tons of carbon from the air per year, which, as one climate scientist, David Ho, put it, is the equivalent of rolling back the clock on just 3 seconds of global emissions. But the learnings gleaned from Orca could surpass any quantitative assessment of its impact. How well do these “direct air capture” machines work in the real world? How much does it really cost to run them? And can they get better?
The company — and its funders — are betting they can. Climeworks has made major deals with banks, insurers, and other companies trying to go green to eventually remove carbon from the atmosphere on their behalf. Last year, the company raised $650 million in equity that will “unlock the next phase of its growth,” scaling the technology “up to multi-million-ton capacity … as carbon removal becomes a trillion-dollar market.” And just last month, the U.S. Department of Energy selected Climeworks, along with another carbon removal company, Heirloom, to receive up to $600 million to build a direct air capture “hub” in Louisiana, with the goal of removing one million tons of carbon annually.
Two years after powering up Orca, Climeworks has yet to reveal how effective the technology has proven to be. But in extensive interviews, top executives painted a picture of innovation in progress.
Chief marketing officer Julie Gosalvez told me that Orca is small and climatically insignificant on purpose. The goal is not to make a dent in climate change — yet — but to maximize learning at minimal cost. “You want to learn when you're small, right?” Gosalvez said. “It’s really de-risking the technology. It’s not like Tesla doing EVs when we have been building cars for 70 years and the margin of learning and risk is much smaller. It’s completely new.”
From the ground, Orca looks sort of like a warehouse or a server farm with a massive air conditioning system out back. The plant consists of eight shipping container-sized boxes arranged in a U-shape around a central building, each one equipped with an array of fans. When the plant is running, which is more or less all the time, the fans suck air into the containers where it makes contact with a porous filter known as a “sorbent” which attracts CO2 molecules.

When the filters become totally saturated with CO2, the vents on the containers snap shut, and the containers are heated to more than 212 degrees Fahrenheit. This releases the CO2, which is then delivered through a pipe to a secondary process called “liquefaction,” where it is compressed into a liquid. Finally, the liquid CO2 is piped into basalt rock formations underground, where it slowly mineralizes into stone. The process requires a little bit of electricity and a lot of heat, all of which comes from a carbon-free source — a geothermal power plant nearby.
A day at Orca begins with the morning huddle. The total number on the team is often in flux, but it typically has a staff of about 15 people, Climeworks’ head of operations Benjamin Keusch told me. Ten work in a virtual control room 1,600 miles away in Zurich, taking turns monitoring the plant on a laptop and managing its operations remotely. The remainder work on site, taking orders from the control room, repairing equipment, and helping to run tests.
During the huddle, the team discusses any maintenance that needs to be done. If there’s an issue, the control room will shut down part of the plant while the on-site workers investigate. So far, they’ve dealt with snow piling up around the plant that had to be shoveled, broken and corroded equipment that had to be replaced, and sediment build-up that had to be removed.

The air is more humid and sulfurous at the site in Iceland than in Switzerland, where Climeworks had built an earlier, smaller-scale model, so the team is also learning how to optimize the technology for different weather. Within all this troubleshooting, there’s additional trade-offs to explore and lessons to learn. If a part keeps breaking, does it make more sense to plan to replace it periodically, or to redesign it? How do supply chain constraints play into that calculus?
The company is also performing tests regularly, said Keusch. For example, the team has tested new component designs at Orca that it now plans to incorporate into Climeworks’ next project from the start. (Last year, the company began construction on “Mammoth,” a new plant that will be nine times larger than Orca, on a neighboring site.) At a summit that Climeworks hosted in June, co-founder Jan Wurzbacher said the company believes that over the next decade, it will be able to make its direct air capture system twice as small and cut its energy consumption in half.
“In innovation lingo, the jargon is we haven’t converged on a dominant design,” Gregory Nemet, a professor at the University of Wisconsin who studies technological development, told me. For example, in the wind industry, turbines with three blades, upwind design, and a horizontal axis, are now standard. “There were lots of other experiments before that convergence happened in the late 1980s,” he said. “So that’s kind of where we are with direct air capture. There’s lots of different ways that are being tried right now, even within a company like Climeworks."
Although Climeworks was willing to tell me about the goings-on at Orca over the last two years, the company declined to share how much carbon it has captured or how much energy, on average, the process has used.
Gosalvez told me that the plant’s performance has improved month after month, and that more detailed information was shared with investors. But she was hesitant to make the data public, concerned that it could be misinterpreted, because tests and maintenance at Orca require the plant to shut down regularly.
“Expectations are not in line with the stage of the technology development we are at. People expect this to be turnkey,” she said. “What does success look like? Is it the absolute numbers, or the learnings and ability to scale?”
Danny Cullenward, a climate economist and consultant who has studied the integrity of various carbon removal methods, did not find the company’s reluctance to share data especially concerning. “For these earliest demonstration facilities, you might expect people to hit roadblocks or to have to shut the plant down for a couple of weeks, or do all sorts of things that are going to make it hard to transparently report the efficiency of your process, the number of tons you’re getting at different times,” he told me.
But he acknowledged that there was an inherent tension to the stance, because ultimately, Climeworks’ business model — and the technology’s effectiveness as a climate solution — depend entirely on the ability to make precise, transparent, carbon accounting claims.
Nemet was also of two minds about it. Carbon removal needs to go from almost nothing today to something like a billion tons of carbon removed per year in just three decades, he said. That’s a pace on the upper end of what’s been observed historically with other technologies, like solar panels. So it’s important to understand whether Climeworks’ tech has any chance of meeting the moment. Especially since the company faces competition from a number of others developing direct air capture technologies, like Heirloom and Occidental Petroleum, that may be able to do it cheaper, or faster.
However, Nemet was also sympathetic to the position the company was in. “It’s relatively incremental how these technologies develop,” he said. “I have heard this criticism that this is not a real technology because we haven’t built it at scale, so we shouldn’t depend on it. Or that one of these plants not doing the removal that it said it would do shows that it doesn’t work and that we therefore shouldn’t plan on having it available. To me, that’s a pretty high bar to cross with a climate mitigation technology that could be really useful.”
More data on Orca is coming. Climeworks recently announced that it will work with the company Puro.Earth to certify every ton of CO2 that it removes from the atmosphere and stores underground, in order to sell carbon credits based on this service. The credits will be listed on a public registry.
But even if Orca eventually runs at full capacity, Climeworks will never be able to sell 4,000 carbon credits per year from the plant. Gosalvez clarified that 4,000 tons is the amount of carbon the plant is designed to suck up annually, but the more important number is the amount of “net” carbon removal it can produce. “That might be the first bit of education you need to get out there,” she said, “because it really invites everyone to look at what are the key drivers to be paid attention to.”
She walked me through a chart that illustrated the various ways in which some of Orca’s potential to remove carbon can be lost. First, there’s the question of availability — how often does the plant have to shut down due to maintenance or power shortages? Climeworks aims to limit those losses to 10%. Next, there’s the recovery stage, where the CO2 is separated from the sorbent, purified, and liquified. Gosalvez said it’s basically impossible to do this without losing some CO2. At best, the company hopes to limit that to 5%.
Finally, the company also takes into account “gray emissions,” or the carbon footprint associated with the business, like the materials, the construction, and the eventual decommissioning of the plant and restoration of the site to its former state. If one of Climeworks’ plants ever uses energy from fossil fuels (which the company has said it does not plan to do) it would incorporate any emissions from that energy. Climeworks aims to limit gray emissions to 15%.
In the end, Orca’s net annual carbon removal capacity — the amount Climeworks can sell to customers — is really closer to 3,000 tons. Gosalvez hopes other carbon removal companies adopt the same approach. “Ultimately what counts is your net impact on the planet and the atmosphere,” she said.
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Despite being a first-of-its-kind demonstration plant — and an active research site — Orca is also a commercial project. In fact, Gosalvez told me that Orca’s entire estimated capacity for carbon removal, over the 12 years that the plant is expected to run, sold out shortly after it began operating. The company is now selling carbon removal services from its yet-to-be-built Mammoth plant.
In January, Climeworks announced that Orca had officially fulfilled orders from Microsoft, Stripe, and Shopify. Those companies have collectively asked Climeworks to remove more than 16,000 tons of carbon, according to the deal-tracking site cdr.fyi, but it’s unclear what portion of that was delivered. The achievement was verified by a third party, but the total amount removed was not made public.
Climeworks has also not disclosed how much it has charged companies per ton of carbon, a metric that will eventually be an important indicator of whether the technology can scale to a climate-relevant level. But it has provided rough estimates of how much it expects each ton of carbon removal to cost as the technology scales — expectations which seem to have shifted after two years of operating Orca.
In 2021, Climeworks co-founder Jan Wurzbacher said the company aimed to get the cost down to $200 to $300 per ton removed by the end of the decade, with steeper declines in subsequent years. But at the summit in June, he presented a new cost curve chart showing that the price was currently more than $1,000, and that by the end of the decade, it would fall to somewhere between $400 to $700. The range was so large because the cost of labor, energy, and storing the CO2 varied widely by location, he said. The company aims to get the price down to $100 to $300 per ton by 2050, when the technology has significantly matured.
Critics of carbon removal technologies often point to the vast sums flowing into direct air capture tech like Orca, which are unlikely to make a meaningful difference in climate change for decades to come. During a time when worsening disasters make action feel increasingly urgent, many are skeptical of the value of investing limited funds and political energy into these future solutions. Carbon removal won’t make much of a difference if the world doesn’t deploy the tools already available to reduce emissions as rapidly as possible — and there’s certainly not enough money or effort going into that yet.
But we’ll never have the option to fully halt climate change, let alone begin reversing it, if we don’t develop solutions like Orca. In September, the International Energy Agency released an update to its seminal net-zero report. The new analysis said that in the last two years, the world had, in fact, made significant progress on innovation. Now, some 65% of emission reductions after 2030 could be accounted for with technologies that had reached market uptake. It even included a line about the launch of Orca, noting that Climeworks’ direct air capture technology had moved from the prototype to the demonstration stage.
But it cautioned that DAC needs “to be scaled up dramatically to play the role envisaged,” in the net zero scenario. Climeworks’ experience with Orca offers a glimpse of how much work is yet to be done.
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And data centers might be collateral damage.
After derailing gigawatts of renewable power with a permitting freeze, the Trump administration is expanding its war on renewable energy, retaining one of country music’s biggest stars in a PR offensive against utility-scale projects on “prime farmland.”
The administration recently onboarded John Rich – one half of the stadium-packing American musical duo Big & Rich – to be Trump’s “special envoy for American landowners.” Rich entered activism around landowner rights last January when he backed opponents fighting a large Tennessee Valley Authority transmission project routed through his home county of Cheatham, Tennessee. This led to him joining the Trump team, where he’s fashioning himself as a go-to guy and cheerleader for anyone who wants Trump to help stop a solar or wind farm they don’t want built.
Rich’s first fight on behalf of the Trump team? Battling solar projects in upstate New York. Over the weekend, Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins, EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin, and the freshly-annointed Rich wrote New York Governor Kathy Hochul grilling her on the state’s definition of “prime farmland” and claiming “the absence of a clear plan” for disposing of solar panels after projects are decommissioned. The letter resulted from Rich’s conversations with a prominent anti-solar Substack author in upstate New York, Alexandra Fasulo, and it references a specific Repsol project under development in Glen, New York, that she is fighting in state court.
“Only 8 weeks ago, I decided to start posting my written content from Facebook and Substack to X. It didn’t take long before John Rich and I connected,” Fasulo wrote in a blog on Monday. “John and I spoke on the phone a few times. We texted and I began to share my research with him. Many meetings later… and the US Department of Agriculture, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and John Rich put their heads together.” In her post Fasulo signaled more is coming. “If you read the letter slowly, you’ll get the gist of what the feds are trying to do here. For legal purposes, I am not going to explain that in writing. Read between the lines,” she said. “This lays the foundation for battling destruction at the hands of solar and wind complexes, battery storage, and so much more. Have a little faith and patience. There is A LOT to come.”
Trump is pivoting to farmland fights because there are few battlegrounds left for the federal government to fire upon. He has totally undermined large-scale renewable energy development in the ocean – I mean, look at offshore wind. He’s wrecked progress in the desert, where large solar farms on federal lands remain trapped in bureaucratic permitting delays. Some facilities are now getting through, like Primergy Power’s Purple Sage Energy Center south of Pahrump, Nevada, which got its permits last month. Yet other large projects are petering out; permitting on at least three large solar proposals – Smith Blythe’s Desert Energy Charger Project and Intersect Power’s Perkins Renewable Energy Project in California and Balanced Rock Power’s Samantha Solar effort in Nevada – has been paused or canceled outright since the start of the year.
The president’s turn to fighting projects on farmland also makes sense from a political standpoint. He’s facing an enormous backlash to a buildout of hyperscale data centers he supported, many of which are sited on acreage suitable for agriculture. Republicans running statewide in must-watch midterms battlegrounds – Texas and Iowa, for example – will have to navigate this rocky terrain where something their president supported is deeply unpopular. By bringing Rich aboard and letting him wail on renewable energy in the public square, it’ll be a signal that the Big Man is still listening to rural MAGA voters wary of industrial development.
In media interviews, Rich has claimed Trump created this new, unpaid special envoy position after the country star turned down an offer to sit on the TVA. “I said [to Trump], ‘if I serve with the TVA I cannot disparage the TVA, and I fully intend on keeping my right to disparage them intact.’” He said, ‘You know what, I respect that. So what do you want to do?’ And I said, ‘Man, give me a position where I’ve got some authority and I can work with the highest agencies in the land to protect landowners. Can you create something like that for me?’”
That’s at least the public story for how the president created the “special envoy” role, which Rich has described in ways that are equal parts citizen-government liaison and culture warrior. It’s now clear from his many posts on X that he’ll be heavily involved in messaging against the construction of new renewable energy facilities, carbon pipelines and, potentially, hyperscale data centers.
“[I’ll] go out, find these egregious situations where landowners are being infringed upon and I can go in, work with USDA, EPA, Secretary of the Interior, HUD, the Energy Department, and then all the way of course [to] the Oval Office – to throw up a defense against American landowners,” Rich told Atkisson. He added that data centers will also be a focus of his in government, and there are “two or three” projects out there where he wanted to intervene.
“The president wants to see the data centers built, but he also wants the farm and ranchland to be preserved. We have to have food security for America. We have to.”
Rich and Fasulo then joined Rollins and other administration officials at a press conference Thursday in Washington, D.C. Fasulo spoke at length against New York solar and wind development. Pressed on how data centers square with farmland protection, Rollins spoke about the anxiety in rural America around hyperscalers.
“That debate is raging right now,” she said. “I think that the importance of private property rights, the importance of preserving American farmland, the importance of ensuring we’re going to have another 250 years of freedom is paramount. Does that mean it is completely incompatible with data centers? I don’t think so and I know President Trump doesn’t think so. But what it does mean is that we have to be extremely intentional. There should be plenty of land in this country where data centers can be built that will not be on prime, important farmland. That’s my take on that.”
When Rich joined the federal government is unclear. The Agriculture Department formally announced Rich joined the administration on June 10, but Rich first disclosed Trump “made an offer for a position” in a subscriber-only post made to X on July 24, 2025. He then provided updates in similarly paywalled statements, revealing the Trump appointment to his subscribers in April. Then in May, he told subscribers that he’d completed federal onboarding. “I’m really looking forward to pushing bad guys off of good guys’ land:) You’ll be seeing the official announcement soon, but I wanted you to know 1st!”
What’s clear, however, is that Rich has other targets too. As Rich was brought into federal service, he began routinely sharing a URL – “usda.gov/lawfare” – and directed aggrieved landowners to report potential misdeeds around land seizure. A review of his back-and-forth communications on social media indicate several potential fights he may wade into. Wind energy projects in Kansas. Solar development in rural Virginia. An aluminum smelter in Oklahoma. Carbon capture proposals in Louisiana.
Prior to formally joining the administration, Rich got involved in a conflict over eminent domain and transmission for data centers in Coweta County, Georgia, which had gone viral on right-wing social media. On May 12, Rich said he “just had a great phone call” with Rep. Brian Jack, the GOP congressman who represents the transmission battleground in question. “I will be speaking more on the matter soon,” he tweeted, declaring the power lines threatened “not only homes, but cattle farms and row crops.” Rich also says he facilitated federal engagement between the USDA and Casey Murph, a rancher in Navajo County, Arizona, who claims the state prematurely ended a land lease he held so Orsted can build a solar project.
It’s also apparent Rich will be the first major Trump administration official to publicly root for more counties to indefinitely ban solar and wind development. “The best way for farm and ranch land to be protected from wind/solar projects is for the county to pass a moratorium on those energy sources, disallowing them to ever be built in the county,” Rich told an X follower on May 16.
No one can predict how harmful it’ll be to have one of country music’s most famous artists turning into a spokesperson against renewable energy. But I doubt even paying Katie Miller to say nice things about solar will be able to overcome newly-empowered activism from a Nashville legend.
And more of the week’s top news around project fights.
1. Kansas City, Missouri – Data centers are so toxic that politicians are using them as boogeymen in totally unrelated policy discussions.
2. Ingham County, Michigan – We have our first major anti-data center candidate in a Democratic congressional primary.
3. Nueces County, Texas - The Longhorn State is on a bull run towards data center hostility.
4. Pulaski County, Arkansas - We have yet another municipal employee losing their job over helping a data center.
5. Marathon County, Wisconsin - Yet again rural residents are poised to lose against state permitting primacy laws benefiting renewable energy.
This week’s conversation is with Grant Gutierrez, head of community impacts at carbon management company Carbon Direct. This week Carbon Direct published a white paper Gutierrez authored on opposition around data centers he’s studied. His research reinforces much of what Heatmap Pro has uncovered, but I was particularly intrigued by a topline finding – that transparency is the most common thread in the 46 data center fights he looked into. Was he seeing what I’ve been seeing? So I asked him to hop onto a Zoom call and let me know his thoughts.
The following conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
If you were to explain the findings in your white paper to someone at a bar… how would you put it?
What I would say is that we were really interested in the kinds of concerns communities were articulating as they were opposing or resisting data center development in the U.S. To answer and explore those questions, we developed our own data center cancellation tracker where we looked for cases where we could find a strong correlation between cancelation or withdrawal status and opposition. Then we did high-level analyses of the demographics surrounding those data centers, using standard best practices from environmental justice methodologies and pulling sociodemographic and environmental burden characters from EPA’s EJScreen tool. We were mostly looking at public records. Press materials. City council meeting minutes. Things you wouldn’t have to dig too hard to find.
The kinds of communities we saw successfully resisting data centers tracked across the demographic middle of the United States – slightly more middle income, slightly more white than a majority of the American community, but mostly what you’d consider the average American community.
What is the intended audience of this paper and what are you hoping to communicate?
I think it’s important for data center developers and the capital behind them is that they need to move their engagement to early stage, responsible design. A second audience is regulators, city councils, and local zoning commissions about how to engage with developers and advocate for the right disclosure requirements from industry.
The key topline message is that developers who treat community engagement as a permitting formality instead of a critical early stage input are burdening communities, breaking trust. This is resulting in reputational risk for developers, stranded assets, losing capital – and the loss of future opportunities as developers want to build 21st century infrastructure.
Walk me through what you saw evaluating these projects. What’s the development pattern that leads to such opposition?
We saw five key themes. Some of them you might expect – concerns around natural resources, water impacts, electricity rates, land. The rural character came up quite consistently. And then there was a lack of transparency through the use of NDAs.
The NDA example I was surprised to see was the most consistent in all of our case studies. Communities are largely concerned with the process that unfolds as much as the impacts. That’s a very important signal that transcends political lines. Communities want to be heard, involved in the process. They want large infrastructural development with impacts to listen to their concerns. When those decisions are made behind NDAs or with no transparency or equitable engagement, communities quickly mobilize and organize at a hyperlocal level and are successful in opposing these data centers.
I know there are a number of companies out there – without naming names – that are putting responsible development principles forward. The ones we advocate for across our business, whether we’re working in carbon removal or other things. I see companies leading and saying, if we’re involved in this infrastructure, we are not going to sign an NDA. Those who are pushing forward renewable energy commitments, community benefit agreements, and local public-private partnerships are leading with transparency and equity in their engagements.
How any of this carries in the broader industry is yet to be seen.
In your report you point to various ways opposition can crop up to a project. One of those ways was due to the presence of co-located gas – you note that gas power at a data center engendered environmental opponents, which then strengthened those fighting a data center. Can you elaborate on whether you think a new gas power presence is making it harder to get a data center built?
The case you’re pointing to, that’s the Ballico case where on top of the data center there was a 3,500 megawatt co-located gas plant. That quickly led to major community concerns and a partnership with the Southern Environmental Law Center, which became the legal anchor for thinking through the opposition here and commissioned the technical evidence, and provided the legal [support] there.
You see a broad coalition coalesce around not only the data center concern but the climate concerns that arise. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a repeated concern around the expansion of fossil energy and combustion sources going hand in hand with community opposition and organizing on data centers. But that remains to be seen.
What in your research have you seen when you compare opposition to data centers and campaigns against, let’s say, fossil fuels? Or mining? Or renewables?
What I think about with data centers is they’re the highways of the 21st century. As we know through the highway projects in the U.S., there were major disproportionate impacts on communities of color. I think there’s potential for data centers if they follow that playbook to have that same impact.
When it comes to comparing these, that’s something I have not done yet. But I think there’s a few things happening. I think the scale and scope of the buildout is taking the American public by surprise. Articulation around impacts to natural resources and electricity prices in a heightened political climate and a difficult economy. It’s also the existential problem AI introduces, which is the role AI plays in society. This is unique compared to other kinds of extraction, which feed technologies already at play.
How do you feel about the fact that so many of us in energy, environment and climate are now talking about data centers all the time?
Never in my career, working in carbon removal and nature based solutions, I never thought data centers would be a major focus in my career as an environmental justice advocate and social scientist.
Data centers are probably emerging to be one of the biggest environmental justice problems of our time so while it’s not something I planned to work on, I am emboldened to see the response from the nonprofit community and others trying to wrap their heads around this. What is the right kind of information? What does the public need to know? How do we advocate for our communities and build the world we would like to build?
While data centers are moving fast, I’m encouraged to see communities organizing and advocating for their own needs as well. Over the next few years, the story will tell itself.
Last question – what was the last song you listened to?
DtMF by Bad Bunny.