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An arcane tax policy is about to reshape America’s energy economy.

How do you prove your electricity is clean? This deceptively simple question is at the heart of an all-out war raging among environmental groups, academics, and energy companies over a new tax credit for the production of clean hydrogen.
At stake, most immediately, is billions of dollars in subsidies and the success and integrity of a nascent climate solution. But the question is so foundational to the energy transition that the answer could also reverberate through the U.S. economy for decades to come. And by a fluke — or by the limitations of the current political system — Janet Yellen’s Treasury Department has been tasked with setting the precedent.
“This is not just a hydrogen debate, at its very core,” Nathan Iyer, a senior associate at the clean energy research nonprofit RMI, told me. “This is the first round of a much larger, era-defining question.”
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To see why, it’s crucial to understand what all the hydrogen hubbub is about in the first place.
Hydrogen is a key plank in the Biden administration’s climate strategy, as it has the potential to replace fossil fuels in a number of industries, including steelmaking, shipping, aviation, and fertilizer production. But today, most hydrogen is made from natural gas in a carbon-intensive process, so first it has to become cheaper to make it in cleaner ways.
The Treasury Department got involved because the Inflation Reduction Act, which Biden signed last summer, created a generous tax credit to make these other, cleaner ways of producing hydrogen more competitive. One method, called electrolysis, involves splitting hydrogen off of water molecules using electricity. The process is emissions-free, as long as the electricity comes from a carbon-free source. Companies will be able to earn up to $3 for every kilogram of hydrogen produced this way. But before anyone can claim the credit, the Treasury has to write rules for what counts as clean electricity.
This is a more fraught question than it might sound. If a hydrogen plant wants to use power from the electric grid rather than build its own, dedicated supply, there’s no easy way to trace where the electrons it’s using originated. And the grid is still largely fed by fossil fuels.
The solution is to allow grid-connected projects to “book” clean energy by signing contracts with wind or solar or geothermal plants that serve the grid, and then “claim” the use of that energy to the Treasury. Many industries voluntarily use these sort of “book and claim” deals in order to advertise to customers that they are “powered by clean energy.”
But one influential Princeton study found that hydrogen production from electrolysis is so energy-intensive that in order to be sure that it has a low carbon footprint, these deals should follow three guidelines: The “booked” clean energy should be generated locally, from a recently-built power plant, and matched to the hydrogen facility’s operations on an hourly basis. Otherwise, you might have a hydrogen plant in New Mexico “buying” energy from a wind farm in Texas that’s already been operating for half a decade. Or you might have that same plant buy lots of local solar power, but then keep operating at night. In either case, a natural gas plant will likely have to ramp up to meet the real-time energy demand.
Without these guardrails, the authors warn, the Treasury could end up directing billions of taxpayer dollars to facilities that emit twice as much carbon as those making hydrogen from natural gas today.
Many hydrogen companies want the Treasury to instead adopt more of an “A for effort” kind of approach. They argue that the point of the tax credit is to launch a new industry, and that onerous rules could kill it before it has a chance to get off the ground.
In fact, there’s so much money on the line that the Fuel Cell and Hydrogen Industry Association has been flooding the public with ads in newspapers and on streaming and podcast services delivering a cryptic warning that “additionality” — the requirement to buy energy from new power plants — was threatening to “set America back.” Others, like the energy company NextEra, are lobbying against the hourly requirement.
While companies tussle with environmental groups and others over what’s at stake for hydrogen, the Treasury’s decision will have implications far beyond any one project, company, or even industry. That’s because the emissions risks described in the Princeton paper are not unique to clean hydrogen.
Automotive, paper and pulp, and food and beverage are just a few examples of other industries with large energy needs that use heat from natural gas boilers but could eventually switch to industrial electric heat pumps or thermal batteries. There are also emerging technologies that hardly exist yet, like machines that remove carbon from the atmosphere, that could be essential to curbing climate change, but will consume lots of electricity.
If we don’t decarbonize the grid in tandem, these solutions could do more harm than good. But whether or not it should be the responsibility of individual companies to do that is a question that will keep coming up. Unlike Europe, the U.S. has no national renewable energy standard or other policy working in the background, forcing the grid to get greener over time no matter how much electricity demand grows.
Legacy industries are unlikely to switch to electricity voluntarily, let alone build clean power sources while they do it. These shifts will require subsidies that make them profitable or regulations that obligate them. And designing those subsidies and regulations will require making the same call that the Treasury is being asked to make right now.
“In that broader sense, these clean hydrogen rules are a real opportunity,” said Gernot Wagner, a climate economist at Columbia Business School. “It's important to get this right.”
The decision could also have international trade implications. Europe has already finalized its own rules for what constitutes clean hydrogen, and they essentially mirror the three guidelines recommended by the Princeton paper, but phase them in to give companies time to figure out how to comply. A weaker set of rules in the U.S. could tarnish the reputation of U.S. hydrogen in global markets.
“We are going to want to have a single global market,” said Jason Grumet, the CEO of the trade group American Clean Power during a panel on Monday about the tax credit debate. His organization wants the Treasury to adopt similar rules to Europe, but phase them in much more slowly. He argued that some companies would still choose to follow Europe’s timeline in order to have access to that market.
The market in question is not just a market for clean hydrogen, per se. The stuff isn’t an end in itself but a building block for decarbonizing a wide range of other products: clean steel, carbon-free fertilizer, replacements for jet fuel, to name a few.
That won’t just matter for exports to Europe, but business opportunities at home. The Biden administration’s “Buy Clean” initiative requires the government to prioritize buying “low-carbon, made in America construction materials.” But if the foundation of these “clean” products is built on faulty carbon accounting it could undermine the whole program.
“Over time, there will be increasing incentives to use low-carbon materials and products because of policies like Buy Clean,” said Rebecca Dell, senior director of the industry program at the Climateworks Foundation. “But the further down the supply chain you go, the harder it is to enforce regulations on the inputs and processes at the top. So it’s worth getting [the hydrogen tax credit] right on its own merits.”
The tax credit rules could also set off a negative feedback loop within the power sector itself. The Environmental Protection Agency recently proposed new regulations to reduce emissions from power plants, including the option to let them burn a blend of natural gas and hydrogen. But if making hydrogen requires burning a lot of natural gas in the first place, the benefits could cancel out.
A senior spokesperson for the Treasury did not respond to a question about whether the department was considering any of these broader implications in devising the rules, instead replying that it was “engaging with a range of stakeholders, the Department of Energy, and other federal partners” and “focused on providing clarity to businesses as soon as possible and ensuring this incentive advances the goals of increasing energy security and combating climate change.”
Wagner, of Columbia, compared the situation to the federal renewable fuel standard, a subsidy for ethanol that Congress created ostensibly to reduce emissions from transportation. But recent analyses have found the policy has done more harm than good for the climate. Nonetheless, the EPA recently re-upped the policy for three more years. Once a policy is in place, it’s pretty hard to tighten it later, Wagner told me.
“What we are trying to do by getting the rules for clean hydrogen right from the beginning is to avoid a reckoning later.”
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A bipartisan group of senators proposed major reforms to the country’s environmental laws last month in an effort to speed up the federal approval process for energy projects of all kinds. If it passes, one of the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act’s biggest changes would be transforming the U.S. court system’s role in federal environmental reviews.
The bill would constrain who can challenge federal environmental decisions in court, which courts can hear those challenges, what plaintiffs can argue in those cases, and what remedies are available when the plaintiffs win. In particular, it would become a lot more difficult — though not impossible — for outside groups to stop construction on a project or vacate a permit if they deemed it to be environmentally risky.
Part of the motivation for the bill, at least among Democrats, is the idea that the National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA, has become a significant obstacle to building clean energy projects and the infrastructure required to connect them to the grid. The bill includes a number of changes to NEPA that would expedite environmental reviews and prevent legal challenges under NEPA from dragging out project timelines.
But the bill’s restrictions on judicial remedies may be the most significant change, several legal experts told me. “My perhaps overly simplistic view, perhaps a really cynical view, is that the remaining 100 pages of the bill devoted to NEPA are all going to be irrelevant in light of that remedy provision,” said Matthew Littleton, a lawyer who previously served as deputy assistant attorney general at the U.S. Department of Justice’s Environment and Natural Resources Division under the Biden administration.
NEPA is an information-gathering statute. It says that when the federal government makes certain decisions, such as issuing permits or regulatory rules, it must consult with all of the agencies with relevant expertise, invite public comment, and, if the decision could have significant effects on the environment, conduct a wide-ranging assessment of those effects that includes comparisons to alternative actions.
Depending on the decision at hand, the government may have to do some of this analysis under other environmental laws, such as the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act, but those requirements are narrower. NEPA fills in the gaps. While a Clean Air Act analysis may look at whether a project complies with federal pollution limits, a NEPA analysis would assess the broader effects of the pollution on local communities and surrounding wildlife, and consider whether locating the project elsewhere could accomplish the same goals with reduced risk.
While NEPA can inform an agency’s decision, the law does not require the agency to act on that information. If a NEPA review of an oil leasing program turns up substantial risks, for example, the government can still move forward with it unchanged. If an environmental group sues the government for not considering all of the relevant impacts, or studying enough alternatives, or getting some aspect of the analysis wrong, however, the court can vacate the agency’s decision, or at least issue an injunction on the lease sale while the agency addresses the issue.
A Supreme Court decision last year already significantly narrowed NEPA, giving agencies more discretion to decide how much environmental analysis they need to do on a project’s upstream and downstream effects. Experts expected the ruling to make it much harder for outside groups to win an injunction on a project or vacate a permit.
The new bill would go much farther. If communities or other stakeholders sue the government for violating NEPA and win, the courts could no longer issue an injunction or vacate the government’s decision. The bill would leave the courts with a single remedy: forcing the agency to address whatever gap in its analysis the lawsuit revealed.
To Littleton, this change would make NEPA more or less irrelevant. Today, he explained, agencies and developers face the risk that if they do not do a thorough job complying with NEPA, the courts could suspend their decisions, vacate their permits, or pause construction on their projects. It’s hard to know how big of a role that risk plays in agency decision-making, but if it disappears, so too does the incentive for anyone to spend time on a NEPA analysis.
Agencies are under-resourced and have a lot on their plates, Littleton said. “If at the end of the day you know a court is not going to stop you, even if you completely ignore the statute, you’re going to take the action as quickly as you can, consistent with your other obligations.” In other words, the worst that could happen is that a federal court tells the relevant agency to go back and do some more paperwork while construction continues.
The bill would make the same changes to the National Historic Preservation Act, a similar procedural law that requires agencies to study a decision’s effects on properties of cultural or historic significance. “If Congress has decided that NEPA and the NHPA have outlived their usefulness or do more harm than good, people should be willing to own that and say it and explain why that’s so,” Littleton said. “And if it’s not so, then maybe they need to figure out how to have a far narrower NEPA or NHPA review, but something where it actually matters if you don't do it.”
To be clear, none of this means there will be no way to stop a project from being built or to vacate its permits. Outside groups can still challenge agency actions under the Administrative Procedure Act, Alex Mechanick, an assistant professor at Johns Hopkins and a former senior counselor in the Office of Management and Budget under the Biden administration, told me. The APA is a larger umbrella law that says agencies cannot violate the Constitution or federal regulations or act arbitrarily or capriciously.
“Arbitrary and capricious action is already unlawful under the APA and could lead to agency action being vacated or enjoined regardless of BAAJA,” Mechanick said. A court might find that an agency violated the APA if a decision had undeniably worse environmental costs than benefits, if a less damaging option offered the same benefits, or if the agency simply chose not to analyze a relevant aspect of the decision. If the Interior Department was considering a new oil and gas leasing plan and didn’t consider effects on local wildlife, a court might deem that arbitrary and capricious. If the agency studied those effects, found significant risks, and then ignored them entirely with no explanation, that could also constitute a violation of the APA.
Littleton didn’t disagree with Mechanick’s assessment. If the bill passes, he said, the NEPA process may become the mechanism agencies use to comply with the APA rather than an end in itself.
The bill makes a more far-reaching change to legal challenges under the Clean Water Act. That law requires developers to secure a Section 404 permit when their project involves placing dredged materials into a body of water or wetland. It asks the Army Corps of Engineers to collect public comments, analyze the environmental impacts, and evaluate alternatives — much like NEPA. In this case, however, the analysis is not just procedural. Depending on what it reveals, the Corps may be legally required to deny the permit.
As with NEPA and the NHPA, the Senate bill would remove a federal court’s ability to vacate a Section 404 permit if it finds a deficiency in the Army Corps’ analysis. But the bill also specifically prevents vacatur for challenges under the APA. In either case, there is an exception for if the court finds that the “activities authorized under the permit would present an imminent and substantial danger to human health or the environment.”
Mechanick called this a “timing rule,” since the court’s options will depend on how far along the project is. The agency either has enough time to act before harm is imminent, or it doesn’t. “I don’t understand why you should have to wait until the harm is imminent to enjoin the agency,” he said, “but I suppose the idea is that this is a lighter touch remedy until it’s really a do-or-die moment.”
On Korea’s Westinghouse wishes, a lithium deal, and British heat pumps
Current conditions: New York City’s temperature is set to rise as high as 80 degrees Fahrenheit this week before plunging as the coldest weather so far this season blows into the Northeast • Temperatures in Denver have been above 80 degrees for the past 11 days straight • Nearly 200,000 households, mostly in Florida, are still without electricity after Hurricane Isaias.
In theory, news of President Donald Trump’s deal with Russia to pump millions of tons of diesel into the global market should have eased oil prices. Instead, all three major crude benchmarks spiked Monday by nearly 1.5%. Only West Texas Intermediate, the U.S. metric that has largely evaded the worst knock-on effects of conflict in the Middle East, remained below $100 per barrel. The hike came as the Houthi attacks on Saudi Arabia over the weekend weighed heavily on investors’ minds, eclipsing whatever impact the diesel deal could have had.
Speaking at an industry summit in Riyadh, from which executives from Western oil majors bowed out at the last minute following missile strikes on the airport in the Saudi capital, the head of the country’s state oil company warned that not even Saudi Arabia had the capacity to protect all the supply routes off its coasts for getting hydrocarbons from the region to the world. “No nation, even one as capable and confident as ours, can safeguard them alone,” Aramco CEO Amin Nasser said, according to Arab News.
TotalEnergies took more than $1 billion from the Trump administration to kill off its offshore wind projects. But don’t take that as a sign the French energy behemoth is abandoning American renewables. The company’s joint venture with private equity giant KKR announced a deal to add 700 megawatts of solar to its portfolio of 1.4 gigawatts. The $1.2 billion acquisition includes three utility-scale solar farms in Texas and Ohio that are expected to reach commercial operation in the first quarter of next year.

South Korea is in a bind. The Korea Electric Power Corporation, through its subsidiary Korea Hydro & Nuclear Power, represents the most competent financier and builder of nuclear reactors anywhere in the democratic world, having constructed the United Arab Emirates’ debut atomic power stations relatively on time and on budget compared to U.S., French, and British projects. But the leading Korean reactor, the APR1400, allegedly borrowed from the American nuclear champion Westinghouse’s pressurized water reactor design. A yearslong legal feud ended last year with a settlement that bars the Koreans from bidding on projects in Europe or North America. In a deal this month with the Trump administration to stave off tariffs, Seoul has agreed to help finance and construct six Westinghouse AP1000s and two of its own APR1400s in the U.S., giving the Americans a leg up on nuclear construction and the Koreans a foothold in North America.
In South Korea, where the Westinghouse settlement has widely been considered unfair, the government is signaling other plans to gain more leverage. For starters, KEPCO’s chief executive Kim Dong-cheol said the claim that the settlement requires the company to pay Westinghouse $2 billion per nuclear plant to use its technology was misunderstood. “It is true that $2 billion is the ceiling, but it does not mean we will pay all of it,” he said. But the more eyebrow-raising detail in his interview with the financial newspaper Business Korea is that KEPCO is considering a plan to acquire an equity stake of between 5% and 10% in Westinghouse. Rumors of a potential deal to buy part of Westinghouse have been circulating in the Korean press for weeks now. Anything seems to be on the table these days, but when I have asked multiple sources on the U.S. side about it, all of them shrugged off the possibility to me.
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When The New York Times ran a glowing profile of the lithium startup EnergyX back in 2021, industry sources at the time mocked the coverage to me as too credulous — a sign of how unsophisticated the popular American press was at writing about critical minerals at the time. The Wall Street Journal glazed the firm’s chief executive, Teague Egan, in its own profile three years later. So it was with light surprise and amusement that I read Reuters reporter Ernest Scheyder’s latest story about the company: EnergyX just signed a $2 billion binding offtake to supply the commodities giant Trafigura with the battery metal from Chile and the U.S. It’s one of the largest deals ever tied to direct lithium extraction, the technology EnergyX is trying to commercialize, which uses less water than standard methods of mining the metal. The 10-year contract comes amid growing demand from the stationary battery storage market as the grid and data centers eat what unsteady sales of electric vehicles has left on the plate.
The British government plans to cut hundreds of millions of dollars from the national program to upgrade boilers in England and Wales, providing £9,000, or nearly $12,000, to finance the switch to heat pumps. The cuts, which the Financial Times reported Monday had drawn a backlash against the ruling Labour Party, are part of a broader bid by Prime Minister Andy Burnham to slash £2 billion in the budget to make way for more military spending. The reductions began in June under former Prime Minister Keir Starmer with a study to identify potential cuts. Starmer singled out the Department of Energy Security and Net Zero, particularly after the agency received a 16% annual increase to fund projects such as the nuclear buildout at Sizewell C, carbon capture infrastructure, and insulation to make homes more energy efficient.
The move is sure to ripple across the climate policy world. Roughly a week ago, Daniel Aldana Cohen, an assistant professor at the University of California at Berkeley, was extolling the benefits of ramping up U.S. production of heat pumps in response to soaring heating prices this winter due to the fossil fuel supply crunch. “Every year that we don’t do a wartime mobilization on heat pumps, we’re ruining people’s lives,” the early advocate of a Green New Deal wrote in a post on X. “Heat pumps will always outperform heating oil, cut costs, add summer AC. And would be fantastic for labor, small businesses, worker co-ops.”
As quickly as a spark of atmospheric electricity strikes, the Ford F-150 Lightning disappeared, with the final model of the all-electric pickup truck rolling off the assembly line last year. Now, Bloomberg reports, “it has become one of the most coveted cars in America and a glowing ember in the red-hot market for used electric vehicles.” The price of a used Lightning is 50% to 60% of the sticker price, which one expert told the newswire “is really a sweet spot.”
What 700 math problems say about the AI economy’s biggest open question
This is Heatmap Daily, an evening news digest written by our executive editor. Subscribe here.
Happy Monday and welcome back.
It’s been a big weekend: I’m fairly certain Saturday Night Live mentioned Heatmap’s data center polling in one of its Weekend Update segments over the weekend. Watch here.
There are 22 days to the midterm elections here in the United States. We’ll soon enter that pre-election wormhole where only national politics can break through. So today I wanted to look at a story that might, on its face, seem like it has nothing to do with climate or energy. And warning: It’s a little bit of a weird one.
Last week, OpenAI released what it described as the solution to more than 700 open problems in mathematics. Many of the problems, such as the Quasi-Riemann hypothesis, had gone unsolved for decades. Some of the solutions came with proofs written in the programming language Lean.
The release made a stir in part because OpenAI had reached the solutions by using an internal model — that is, a version of ChatGPT not yet open to the general public. In a statement, the Association for Human Mathematics lambasted OpenAI for using an internal model to do research, violating what it described as a precept of AI-driven math research. (I’ve since seen speculation that OpenAI may not have even meant to solve the problems, but gave them to the internal model as a test … and then got the answers.) It’s also not clear whether all of OpenAI’s 700 solutions are correct — in many cases the proofs are so intricate that mathematicians are still wrapping their heads around them.
“There are some sad stories related to their users getting scooped [and] conflicts of interest,” Levent Alpöge, a mathematician at Anthropic, posted on X. “It’s obviously the most significant moment in mathematical history.”
On Friday night, the UCLA mathematician Terence Tao gave a pre-planned lecture at Caltech about what he called “Math 2.0”; it considered the revolution the field had seemingly undergone in the previous few days. (He posted the slides to his blog over the weekend, and I’m using them to summarize his talk here.) For most of math’s history, he said, the field operated under “proof scarcity,” in which finding a solution to an open math problem and confirming it as true was “difficult and rare,” requiring “significant human expertise.”
But AI, it has turned out, is well suited to solving math problems. This is partly because math, like the large language models themselves, is entirely conceptual, so confirming a proof as true requires no recourse to the physical. But it’s also because math’s solutions are “objectively verifiable”: “There is broad consensus on what constitutes a correct and complete proof of a given problem,” and thanks to the existence of proof programming languages like Lean, they can even be checked by computer.
The end result is that math is now entering a world of “proof abundance,” he said.
That is, perhaps surprisingly, a problem for math’s practitioners, and it will mandate a new intellectual regime for the discipline. Mathematicians have often used open problems as “lighthouses,” Tao wrote, “not destinations to be reached … but useful guides to explore the mathematical landscape.” Mathematicians often learn more in the solving than in the solution, in other words. But if mathematicians can now generate shortcuts to math problems without knowing how they got there, or even how the problem works, then actual human mathematical understanding will suffer. (One way to understand this is that mathematicians are now dealing with the same problem that math teachers have faced since the invention of the pocket calculator: How do you confirm students actually understand the material? Except the world’s most elite mathematicians themselves are the students in question.)
This disconnect can pose its own AI alignment problems, Tao said, analogizing math to pharmaceuticals. Suppose an advanced AI found what appears to be a cure for cancer that can pass a stage 3 clinical trial: “After a large amount of compute, it produces a cocktail of previously unknown chemicals which it claims, when mixed and injected into a patient, will kill all their cancer cells,” he said. It even generates a programmatic proof of the cocktail’s effectiveness.
“Before injecting this cocktail into your bloodstream,” he asked, “would you find it reassuring to know that there is at least one human cancer expert who understands — even partially — the mechanism behind this cure?” If not, you can see mathematicians’ problem, confronted by a surfeit of proofs that seem to work, but nobody who can explain how or why they do.
Now, Tao’s analogy is somewhat peculiar because something like this actually does happen all the time in medicine: Doctors still don’t fully understand how many drugs work, including acetaminophen, SSRIs, and lithium. (That said, those compounds were identified by trial and error, not by a mechanical superintelligence.) But the broader situation that Tao is painting — as well as the crisis posed by OpenAI’s 700 proofs — get at a significant question with economic importance far beyond just math: Will AI solve the economy’s secular attention shortage or worsen it?
This question has greater import than it may seem — but let me qualify what I mean by “attention shortage.” Writing in 1971, the economist Herber Simon observed the sudden superabundance of information that had exploded in every economic domain. There were more facts, data, news articles, and opportunities than any individual or organization knew what to do with. He pointed out that this newfound “wealth” of information implied an insufficiency of something else: attention.
“What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients,” he wrote in Designing Organizations for an Information-Rich World. “Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it.”
He wrote this, of course, well before the advent of internet, smartphones, sensors, or networked cameras — all of which have worsened the problem. But in the ensuing half century, the economy has learned to deal (or at least intermittently manage) this secular scarcity of attention. Much of what we now call knowledge work is devoted to filtering, siphoning, processing, and otherwise attending to the information superabundance.
AI is, in theory, supposed to help address this same set of problems. AI is commodified attention — or, at least, that is its promise. (The most important machine learning paper of the past decade, after all, is entitled “Attention Is All You Need.”) Many AI products, such as Meta’s Muse, now want you to believe that by ceding control of your email, your calendar, your restaurant reservations, and your digital life to AI, you will gain an attentional edge. The AI will do the grunt-work of attending to boring things for you, and you will feel less overwhelmed. If this vision comes true, the economy’s mismatch of information and attention will prove to be a short-lived historical blip.
But the past week of math news and Tao’s “Math 2.0” regime suggest a different scenario is more likely, at least in the immediate near term. By allowing far faster and more automated information production, AI will create a new, more vicious, and even more abstract form of information overload. Every profession and intellectual discipline will be overwhelmed with new papers, ideas, observations, proofs, or choices. Yet the human understanding required to convert this new information into useful action will become even more scarce. In such a world, AI will not solve the economy’s attention shortage, but worsen it.
I’m not sure which world would be worse for humanity, to be candid. One world suggests the eventual automation of all human effort. But in Tao’s world, many of us might still have jobs — they will just involve even more filtering, sorting, and processing of an ever-deepening pile of automated idea generation than we do today.
And what is the connection to climate and energy? One easy connection might be to the permitting process: If you think a new transit line (at the local level) or transmission line (at the state or federal level) could be overwhelmed with procedural concerns 10 years ago, wait until you see what happens when information itself can be mechanically produced. But that is only one example of a more general problem. Soon, if not already, any process of providing input to an important policy question — on energy, decarbonization, or anything else — will be overwhelmed with facially high-quality analysis. It will be left to policy officials and elected leaders to sort through it.