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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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In Providence, at least, climate change is still on the ballot.
Here’s some trivia for you: What was the first state to see its average temperature break the 2-degree Celsius threshold for warming above pre-industrial levels? It wasn’t Alaska, the fastest-warming state, nor was it California or Florida, states with some of the most visible impacts of the extreme weather crisis. It was not Arizona or Texas, either, though “hot” and “warming” are often conflated.
The answer, in fact, is humble Rhode Island, which passed the international benchmark for accelerated climatic impacts back in 2019. It is perhaps less surprising, then, to learn that in the Ocean State’s largest city, Providence, climate change and how to adapt to it have become one of the central talking points in a heated mayoral race, which in the deep-blue city is likely to culminate in the September 9 primary.
There is plenty to worry voters. Providence sits at the head of Narragansett Bay, which has warmed 1.6 degrees Celsius, enough to drive lobsters from the region and convert the local lobstermen into crabbers, fishing for crustaceans they previously considered bycatch. The sea level has risen on Rhode Island’s 400-plus miles of coastline by more than 10 inches since 1930, more than in Venice or Miami, meaning the city floods frequently. Locals hold their breath every hurricane season; a hit from a category 4 or larger storm could tally billions in damages. And as home to the biggest port in the region, Providence is also an unfortunate case study in industrial and fossil-fuel-related pollution affecting historically redlined neighborhoods.
“Since I’ve been in office, we’ve had dramatic, chronic flooding. We’ve had high heat days in the fall that have closed public schools, which is not something that ever happens here in September,” Providence Mayor Brett Smiley told me. “We had some of the highest snowfall in recorded history [in the city]. We’re seeing the effects.”
Smiley, who was elected in 2022, has described investing in infrastructure upgrades for the nearly four-century-old city as one of his “principal responsibilities” as mayor. During his second year in office, he signed an ordinance requiring all of the 122 city-owned buildings to decarbonize by 2040, and that fall published a 10-year plan that introduced air quality, heat, and stormwater management goals, provisions aimed at curbing pollution at the Port of Providence, and would have effectively banned the construction of new gas stations. (A later amendment relaxed the restrictions.) He’s also invested in long-overdue repairs to the city’s hurricane barriers.
This year, Smiley also announced the creation of a Green Revolving Fund to support Providence’s ambitious carbon neutrality goals. “I’ve been in government long enough to know that operating budgets can change as priorities change, and so having a dedicated recurring revenue stream is vital to ensuring that this work continues,” he said.
In the face of federal headwinds, and at a time when the political currency of “climate change,” at least in so many words, is on the downswing, Smiley’s focus on climate issues stands out. That is especially true against the backdrop of a broader state-level reassessment of environmental goals, with Democratic Governor Dan McKee proposing a budget earlier this year that would have slashed climate programs funded by monthly utility charges in the name of affordability. Though Rhode Island lawmakers ultimately rejected that rollback, McKee’s move fits into a larger trend in the region of blue-state politicians in places like Maryland, Massachusetts, and New York curbing or weakening climate ambitions under the pressure of affordability politics. (McKee also faces his own competitive primary.)
“Providence alone can’t solve the climate crisis. But our actions, at least in Rhode Island, are pushing other communities in the state to take action,” Smiley said.
But there are others — including Smiley’s progressive challenger, State Representative David Morales — who say the mayor’s tenure has been a lot of talk and little action, and that he’s neglected Providence’s low-income and frontline communities.
Morales’ campaign did not get back to me for this article, despite requests through multiple channels. But Steve Ahlquist, an independent reporter who follows environmental justice-related issues in Rhode Island, also told me that “over the years, and also in dealing with Mayor Smiley as an incumbent, I’ve had some real difficulty with what I would even call basic honesty out of his administration.” He added that the mayor’s office has a history of downplaying and denying police harassment of unhoused people in particular, including lying about the presence of police officers at a homeless encampment and their involvement in an “illegal search” in 2023.
When I asked the Smiley administration about Ahlquist’s accusations, press secretary Carl Austin Miller Grondin told me the city has a “multi-department approach” for addressing encampments of which “Providence Police are one piece,” though he didn’t address the 2023 incident directly. As for the idea that Smiley represents the status quo, Grondin said the mayor has made “significant investments” in programs for underprivileged groups including affordable housing, eviction prevention, public schools and youth programming, and public safety.
Ahlquist also finds Smiley’s talk about affordability and clean energy false, however. Smiley notably vetoed a rent control ordinance, despite the city having some of the highest rates in the country, and while serving as former Governor Gina Raimondo’s chief of staff between 2016 and 2019, he helped push for the expansion of fossil fuel infrastructure in the form of a $1 billion fracked gas and diesel oil power plant that was ultimately thwarted by community pushback. (Grondin told me “rent control policies do not lower rents” and that the mayor “has instead taken a disciplined, results-driven approach to lowering housing costs.” The power plant project was proposed before Smiley’s tenure in Raimondo’s administration, he added.)
Morales, 27, is a Democratic Socialist and has won the backing of Vermont’s Independent Senator Bernie Sanders. His scrappy campaign against an establishment incumbent Democrat has earned him comparisons to New York City’s young, charismatic Mayor Zohran Mamdani. Unlike Mamdani, however, Morales has made climate central to his campaign.
Morales has gone after Smiley particularly hard on environmental justice issues, sensing a weak spot in his record. “Industrial facilities near the Port of Providence have polluted our neighborhoods for decades,” his issues page reads. “David will require them to contribute more toward the city services and infrastructure our communities deserve.”
A nearly two-mile stretch of Allens Avenue, which flanks the port, is home to asphalt plants, scrap metal recyclers, oil and gas companies, and petroleum storage tanks with a history of leaks, spills, dumps, and other forms of contamination. Locals complain that even just driving along the avenue is enough to make you sick, with 11 identified polluters within a mile radius of National Grid’s newest LNG plant. Traffic to and from the port adds to the odor — and health impacts — in the neighboring communities of South Providence and Washington Park, which have some of the highest hospitalization rates in southern New England. Notably, South Providence’s population is 90% people of color; Washington Park’s is above 60%.
Smiley bristled at Morales’ plan to tax polluters. “Many of my opponent’s proposals — which continue to evolve, by the way — are illegal or not allowed, and he leaves some of those details out, and sometimes changes his position,” he told me. Ahlquist, who issued a rare endorsement of Morales last spring, contends that “we know for a fact it is not illegal” to tax polluters at a different rate. (In truth, it’s a bit of a legal gray area; Providence’s tax code allows it to adopt a classification system with different rates for industrial properties, but whether that classification can be used to single out specific polluters on Allens Avenue is murkier.)
In an interview with Ahlquist, Morales has also proposed buying out the Rhode Island Recycled Metals property — where some of the worst contamination has originated — and pursuing “brownfield mediation” in the area. “I find it shameful that Public Street, one of the few shoreline access points around the Port of Providence, is not a very welcoming environment,” he said. On the adaptation side, he’s proposed passing a green energy bond to invest in renewable energy and upgrade the sewage system with an eye on future flooding.
A week ago, it might have seemed as though Morales had progressive momentum on his side. But after the upset of Democratic Socialist Francesca Hong in Wisconsin on Tuesday night and the narrow victory by progressive up-and-comer Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan the week before, the narrative is now more complicated. Meanwhile, the first primary poll shows Smiley with a 4-point edge — within the margin of error, but still likely to have the Morales campaign in a state of jitters.
Climate adaptation can sometimes fall under a variation of the refrain parodied in urban infrastructure circles: One more study would fix this. That’s especially true in Rhode Island, where study after study has highlighted the problems Morales and Smiley are circling, and yet here they still are, at the center of yet another mayoral race.
“One of the things that frustrates me is when you write a plan and then put it on the bookshelf, and that’s the end of it,” Smiley told me, sounding genuinely irked as we spoke on the phone. “That’s not how I do plans.” He told me stormwater infrastructure would be a major focus of his administration if he’s elected to another term, while he hopes his decarbonization roadmap and the green revolving fund will outlast his mayoralty, whenever and however it may end.
Morales has been stymied before, too. Ahlquist recalled watching the young legislator in the State House at the end of a legislative session, when, in the waning hours, he was told by leadership that a bill he’d been working on wasn’t going to get through. “David, when he’s in public, he’s very controlled, very managed,” Ahlquist said. But from his vantage point, Ahlquist could see Morales had started to cry.
“It’s midnight, the last days of session, and I just saw something raw in him then,” Ahlquist said. “It was like, Wow, this is a guy who really gives a shit.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to include responses from the Smiley campaign.
Chatting about win-win solutions with the Abundance Institute’s Ryan Norris.
This week’s conversation is with Ryan Norris, senior fellow for energy policy at the Abundance Institute. The libertarian-leaning institute — whose name cleverly shortens to AI — is a new-ish entity with increasing relevance in energy and tech spaces. As Norris and I discussed, it’s starting to help shape policy on data center development and the generation that’ll power it all, especially in Republican circles. Norris himself previously worked with Americans for Prosperity, a right-wing political organization. I reached out to him and asked if we could chat because I wanted to know more about the institute’s work within the energy space. He wound up saying a lot more than I expected. So let’s dive into it.
The following conversation was lightly edited and abridged for clarity.
So let’s start with what you’re working on. What’s on your desk these days?
Here at Abundance, we sit at the juncture of emerging technology and the energy they need to bring that new technology to bear to impact life positively. We are always in a constant state of learning and researching what the latest thoughts and feelings are around certain policies, particularly around AI and data centers, and then energy technology. How do they feel about nuclear? Geothermal? Solar and battery arrays?
A lot of what I’m working on is Project Gigawatt, a body of policy that fits into permitting, generation, the grid, transmission, and then market and demand. Policies that we believe will generate more, transmit more, and as much of a free market approach as possible. Knowing that a lot of states have regulated utilities, when the state utility can’t produce what the state can potentially actually generate or would need to in order to accommodate large loads, we think there needs to be other opportunities to either bring that power or purchase it in a different way.
When it comes to this policy set, how are you taking into account the intensifying backlash to data center and AI infrastructure, as well as the energy attached to it?
As everyone can sense, things are moving rapidly, and there is a natural inclination to question how fast we’re going. I think these concerns need to be addressed seriously and respectfully. You can’t just say negative things about people who care about water quality or impacts to their local economies. Those are valid. I’ve lived through those. I come from a rural place in Arkansas that had oil and gas plays. And I’ve seen there needs to be conversations with people living in those areas too.
We cannot discount the backlash. When you take the legitimate concerns and pair them with the opportunities coming, I think there’s actually a chance to set up win-win solutions. It shouldn’t be a win-lose scenario here. They have skepticism about AI in the short and long term — that’s a natural inclination and not a negative, per se. But educating people and policymakers about data centers, that’s important.
What is your approach to the rise in land use regulation around data centers and energy infrastructure, moratoria and restrictive ordinances?
As much as possible, you want the infrastructure and cost allocation to be borne by the business causing it. That’s the motivation behind a lot of colocation partnerships happening right now, like the Kilby project in Texas, with natural gas powering a Microsoft hyperscale.
To us, it’s about setting up the opportunity for private property owners to sell to those hyperscalers and those generating the energy. Setting up situations where you’re not stopping people from benefiting. A lot of the “bring your own power” concept, we really like that. Maybe having it where power purchase agreements are more in the mix, things along those lines. That’s where I see things.
The energy increases to our utility bills, people are concerned about it, and that’s a bread and butter issue. That’s the approach: We know we need grid upgrades and want to have the most cost effective versions of those as possible, but you want those needing the power paying for it and not putting it on the backs of residents.
I’m curious, what’s you and your organization’s approach to the rise of gas infrastructure built for AI and the potential impacts that could have on climate change?
I don’t discount the issue of climate change.
Let’s say we’re not able to decarbonize enough to reverse the effects of warmth. We know we’ll have to create energy. We know we have other options for energy that need to be in the mix — more nuclear, which now even some of those who are climate-minded understand is an abundant energy source. I’m also interested in new technologies in geothermal where it can be viable in more places than we thought. You can drill down and tap hot rocks, a basin of water, turn a turbine, and that’s more acceptable for those who care about the climate. And states are looking at it, including my state of Arkansas. I bring these up because I also care about sources that provide firm, consistently available power.
We attended the American Legislative Exchange Council, and one of the things we do, we’re voting members on the energy, environment, and agriculture task force. We’re pro letting the market decide what they need. So we took opposite stances from what people typically consider normal standards on the center-right about banning “net-zero” for local governments. It did pass as model legislation but if we believe “all of the above” is the approach, we also want to be principally correct to ourselves that it doesn’t mean banning wind or solar where it’s viable.
My last question: What’s your thought on the future of politics around AI infrastructure and energy generation for it?
There’s definitely headwinds to those in that industry. I think the sense is, they understood what they wanted and didn’t see any barriers to the way they’d go about it. That’s causing ripple effects in our politics at the local level, including here in Arkansas, where I live in Pulaski County. I think it’ll stay important particularly as it connects to affordability concerns around energy. We know we need more energy, but we want it at the lowest cost possible to the residential side. If people are feeling like data centers are driving the demand for the energy and aren’t on the hook for it, that’s going to position them to be more negative towards the technology.
But we have to expand the conversation. There are folks out there talking about 3D printing for homes, using proprietary cement mixes to build homes in a few weeks when they took months. Agriculture is using robotics in lieu of pesticides and herbicides. Advanced manufacturing is improving the quality of medical equipment. No one completely understands the end goal of new energy to fuel the data centers and AI to get us where there’s a net benefit to them.
Plus more of the week’s biggest development fights.
1. Shelby County, Alabama — The Trump administration’s widening effort to intervene in rural energy project fights is facing an early test: What happens if companies don’t take it seriously?
2. Ozaukee County, Wisconsin — Speaking of walls, we just saw the political power of the data center resistance hit one in the Badger State.
3. Everywhere in Texas — Texas Governor Greg Abbott is getting a lot of love for his data center standards, with major developers rolling out press statements claiming they’ll comply.
4. Herkimer County, New York — Something weird is going on in upstate New York with a monastery, a wind farm, and the Trump administration. I’m not sure what to make of it yet.