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Delaying congestion pricing is one of the worst climate policy decisions made by any Democrat in recent memory.

If it holds, then Governor Kathy Hochul’s decision today to delay congestion pricing indefinitely in New York will be a generational setback for climate policy in the United States.
It is one of the worst climate policy decisions made by a Democrat at any level of government in recent memory.
It is worse than the Mountain Valley pipeline, the 300-mile gas pipeline that Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia got approved in 2022 in exchange for supporting the Inflation Reduction Act.
And it is worse than the Willow project in Alaska, the oil mega-project that President Joe Biden okayed last year under pressure from that state’s local and indigenous leaders.
It is so bad because it will set back the development of climate-friendly cities and rapid transit infrastructure in the United States for years if not decades. And it will deter other American cities from implementing the kind of time-saving, pollution-averting, anti-gridlock measure that the country desperately needs.
There is nothing good to be said for this decision. It is bad politics, bad economics, bad governance, and bad for the climate.
Let us briefly count the ways that it is destructive.
It is stupid coalition politics. Hochul has alienated her allies, including environmental groups, state budget hawks, and transit advocates. Bill McKibben, the longtime New Yorker writer who has become one of the country’s most famous climate activists, called Hochul’s decision “one of the most aggressive anti-environmental actions ever undertaken by a Democratic governor.”
In exchange, Hochul has delighted her Republican adversaries, who can praise her wise decision-making in the weeks to come — and therefore brandish their own bipartisan bonafides — but continue to campaign against congestion pricing through November. Congestion pricing is unpopular now, but in her fecklessness, Hochul has guaranteed that it will be a live issue in November.
It is nonsense budget politics. Hochul says that she has delayed congestion pricing because she is worried about the city’s recovery from the pandemic, but regardless of her reasons, she has now left a $1 billion hole in the transit authority’s budget. The New York Times reports that she wants to fill that hole by raising taxes on the state’s businesses.
But that means that she has taken a tax formerly charged to some New York residents and businesses — but which would also fall on New Jersey and Connecticut residents and businesses — and shifted it entirely to in-state entities. She has, in essence, cut taxes on out-of-state residents and raised taxes on New York businesses and consumers.
And instead of taxing the right to use roads in downtown Manhattan, which are a limited public resource, she will instead tax all business activity in the state. What good will that do for New York’s economy?
Those political and financial flaws might be forgiven if her decision was good for the planet. But don’t worry: It’s also bad climate politics.
Cars, SUVs, and trucks belch more climate pollution into the atmosphere than any other single economic activity in the U.S. Nearly 20% of America’s annual carbon pollution comes from individuals and families driving their private vehicles around on roads and highways. This is a far larger share of national pollution than is generated by more famous climate villains, such as air travel.
We have good ways of dealing with all that carbon pollution. In suburbs, small towns, and rural America, the best way to deal with that tailpipe pollution is to gradually transition from gasoline-burning cars to electric vehicles. In some places, the country can also experiment with using experimental, climate-friendly liquid fuels.
But in cities, people have better and cheaper options than getting EVs. We can stop requiring people to drive everywhere and encourage them to walk, bike, and take public transit instead. That will require, at times, treating the use of roads in city centers as the limited public resource that it is — which means charging cars and trucks to enter the most crowded downtown areas of certain cities at certain times of the day.
That’s what congestion pricing is: a way of encouraging cities to grow in pro-climate, pro-environmental ways. Such a policy has already been successfully implemented in London, Singapore, and other congested cities. Even as an urban car owner, I long wanted the city where I lived for a decade — Washington, D.C. — to adopt a similar policy. After all, when Stockholm started its congestion fee, the rate of asthma attacks among its children dropped by half.
So I looked forward to the start of congestion pricing in New York City, America’s biggest, densest, and most transit-friendly city. New York was bushwhacking a trail for everyone else to follow: If congestion policy was a success there, then other American cities could experiment with it in some form.
By pausing that trial before it has even begun, Hochul has essentially frozen our ability to experiment with congestion pricing anywhere else in the country. By shuttering the policy in New York, she has poisoned pro-climate urban politics everywhere. Now people will say: You saw what happened when New York tried to do congestion pricing. Do you really want to try that here?
In the past, when national Democrats have approved new pipelines or oil projects, they have argued that those projects will not affect the country’s carbon pollution because only demand for fossil fuels, and not the supply of them, drives carbon emissions. But what makes congestion pricing so powerful is that demand is precisely what it targets. Congestion pricing makes buses run faster, pays for the subway system, and pushes people and businesses to consider the social cost of their driving before they get in the car.
Congestion pricing, if implemented widely, can actually conserve fossil fuels and cut carbon emissions. Now Hochul has halted its progress everywhere.
She has made, in other words, a local mistake with national and even global consequences. It is such a foolhardy error that it instantly recasts Kathy Hochul’s climate record as governor.
Hochul has previously been seen as a center-left governor playing a difficult but moderate environmental hand. But is that really her record? She has struggled to build wind farms off the coast of New York, even though it is essential to decarbonizing the state’s power grid. She has so far failed to pass the NY HEAT Act, which would help the state transition away from using fossil fuels to heat its buildings. She has even failed to pass little climate measures that would fund the state’s more modest climate goals.
I would compare her to Senator Joe Manchin, the fossil-fuel-friendly West Virginia lawmaker who repeatedly refused to vote for Biden’s climate policy — except at least Manchin put his political reputation on the line when it mattered and ultimately negotiated, and voted for, the Inflation Reduction Act. At least Manchin has many qualities to recommend him: He was canny, risk-taking, proud, and courageous when it counted. Hochul is just a loser.
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Governor Kathy Hochul says the state won’t approve new artificial intelligence data centers for one year.
We have our first state-level data center moratorium.
New York Governor Kathy Hochul has paused data center development in the state for one year, signing an executive order on Tuesday that prevents the state from approving permits for new large-scale computing facilities.
The order targets what Hochul called “hyperscale data centers,” which she defined as those that can consume 50 megawatts of electricity or more.
“New York will lead the way in creating the strongest standards in the nation for data center development, ensuring that when companies succeed because of New York, New Yorkers succeed too,” the governor said.
The state will spend the next year finalizing a program to make sure data centers either build their own power generation or pay a higher rate for electricity. It will also help local governments negotiate “community benefits” with data center developers, and it will require projects to complete a more stringent form of environmental review.
Practically speaking, the moratorium doesn’t affect many projects, Heatmap Pro data suggests. Of the eight large-scale data center projects recently proposed in New York state, three have already been canceled, and one was approved last year. The developer behind a potentially million-acre campus — which would have consumed as much as 1,000 megawatts of power — in the upper Hudson Valley canceled the project last month after the town imposed its own moratorium.
In fact, most of the towns or counties where an AI data center would be most attractive in New York have already banned or restricted the projects in some way, our data shows. Eight municipalities in New York have banned data center development outright, while three have passed a restrictive ordinance of some kind.
If anything, the new moratorium is more lenient than developers might have expected. Last month, the New York state legislature passed a bill that would have blocked approvals for data centers larger than 20 megawatts for a year. Hochul is sidestepping that legislation by issuing this executive order.
Perhaps the most important context: Hochul faces a re-election campaign this fall. The order reminds me of when she paused New York City’s congestion pricing program just before it would have gone into effect in June 2024 — which was, if I may be blunt, another election year. I was sharply critical of her decision then and considered it among the worst climate policy betrayals of the Biden era; everything I’ve learned since suggests that the tolling plan really was in peril. But lo, several months later — a few weeks into November, as it happens — Hochul and state lawmakers revived the scheme. The policy finally began in 2025 and has been a roaring success.
To be clear, I don’t think Hochul will reverse this one-year moratorium in December. But I suspect that it’s unlikely to get extended beyond its initial 12 months, in part because so many towns and cities have already passed their own restrictions. (Or perhaps that makes its eventual extension more likely.) Whether other Democratic-run states follow her lead, though — especially those where more data centers are likely to get built — is another question.
Microsoft says it bought nearly 3,500 acres of land near Cheyenne from the family of Wyoming Senator Cynthia Lummis.
The family of one of Congress’ biggest Big Tech boosters has reportedly sold thousands of acres of land to Microsoft for a new data center.
Late Monday night, the city council in Cheyenne, Wyoming approved a measure necessary for Microsoft to connect a new data center campus to city services, including water access. The council’s action annexes almost 3,500 acres that was owned by relatives of the state’s junior senator, Cynthia Lummis. A Microsoft representative testified to the council that the company acquired the land on June 26.
Honestly, it’s a surprise that the land annexation — reportedly one of the largest single additions of land to the city’s control in its history — was even approved. Just last week I confirmed local reports that officials had traced rare bacteria in the city’s municipal wastewater system to another data center project overseen by a subcontractor for Meta. This incident led the city to ban data center developers indefinitely from disposing wastewater from closed-loop cooling systems into the municipal wastewater system.
The land annexation was approved in the wee hours of the night by a 7-3 vote, after a nearly eight-hour marathon session of the city council that also included other much smaller land swaps for the Microsoft project. The state representative for the area where the property sits, Republican Ann Lucas, testified against the measure. Many Cheyenne residents who spoke in opposition to the project referenced the Meta-linked incident, and a handful of neighbors of the future data center complex got together to testify against it.
“I oppose this annexation, but I understand that Senator Lummis has a right to request it, just like she did for the land that my house is on,” testified Peggy Gates, who lives in a residential community called Sweetgrass that is adjacent to the property. “My sincere question to the city council is, why is it necessary for this annexation and rezoning vote to be completed tonight?”
Patrick Collins, Cheyenne’s mayor, told her the city faced a choice: either move forward with an annexation that would put the property under its control and let it connect to municipal services, or Microsoft would have to go its own way under solely county control.
“It’s a good question,” Collins replied from the dais. “I would guess if we postponed it for three months, people would say we should postpone it longer. At some point we just have to vote and say yes or no and give the people who want to develop that piece of property clearer direction of whether they can be in the city or not in the city. They already own the land. They’re either going to do it in the city or outside the city. We’re trying to give them direction as to how they should make their plan. Should they drill [water] wells or use city water and sewer?”
How much money the Lummis family may make from the data center land deal has not yet been made public, nor have the ways in which the senator or her family could profit. The family has reportedly held much of this land going back to the 1940s, and it now sits in the name of companies such as Arp and Hammond Hardware, Old Horse Pasture Inc., and Lummis Livestock Company LLC.
As far as I can tell, this is the first major data center deal ever involving a sitting member of the U.S. Congress. Lummis is also the “crypto queen” of the Senate, known as a policy thought leader in all things technology, artificial intelligence, and the digitization of human existence. She’s recently waded into the data center debate: In mid-June, after Microsoft disclosed its intent to acquire the Lummis properties, the senator introduced a bill requiring the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to quickly craft new regulations making it easier for data centers using 100 megawatts or more to connect to the existing electrical grid.
Lummis announced in December that she will not be seeking re-election. Her office did not respond to requests for comment.
Microsoft told me in a statement that the senator’s connection to this land played no role in selecting this site for their project: “This expansion reflects our continued long-term investment in Cheyenne and builds on more than a decade of growth in the region. Senator Lummis’ political standing had nothing to do with our decision to continue growing in Cheyenne,” the company said.
“Geologic hydrogen” companies make up a hefty portion of the latest Activate Fellowship class, announced Tuesday morning — a reliable harbinger of investments to come.
The hype around clean hydrogen has come in waves, with investors and policymakers betting that the versatile molecule could help decarbonize everything from fertilizer production to long-haul shipping and heavy industry. Different production methods have come in and out of vogue: Around 2020 it was using carbon capture and storage, then electrolysis powered by clean electricity and subsidized by generous tax credits in the Inflation Reduction Act. More recently, venture capitalists have poured money into the search for naturally occurring deposits hidden underground.
So far, none of these approaches has delivered cheap, low-carbon at any kind of scale. Yet enthusiasm for this latest frontier — so-called geologic hydrogen — has continued to build.
Much of that excitement stems from an even newer concept, alternately known as engineered geologic hydrogen or engineered mineral hydrogen. This is the idea that if naturally occurring hydrogen deposits — which require a precise mixture of geologic conditions — prove too rare or difficult to find, scientists can engineer those subsurface conditions themselves, producing this valuable molecule straight from the earth wherever the right iron-rich rocks are found. Essentially, the approach trades exploration risk for engineering risk.
“I think it’s really a natural evolution,” Sophie Broun, CEO of the seed-stage engineered hydrogen company Anning Corporation, told me. “It’s the evolution that we’ve seen play out from oil and gas — conventional to unconventional — from geothermal to [enhanced geothermal systems], and now we’re seeing it in geologic hydrogen.”
Broun is a member of the new class of Activate Fellows announced on Tuesday morning. The two-year fellowship provides early-stage founders with funding for research and development, as well as a network of fellow founders, mentors, investors, and corporate partners. It’s helped seed cohorts of companies that have gone on to form brand new industries, from clean cement startups Brimstone and Sublime Systems to thermal energy players Antora Energy and Electrified Thermal Solutions.
Dan Recht, Activate’s chief fellowship officer, thinks that the nascent geologic hydrogen industry — which includes both natural and engineered deposits — is next. “This process of seeing these up and coming sectors and industries is routine for us at Activate,” he told me. “At the end of our selection process we now have a pretty good sense of, oh, the U.S. is going to have a geologic hydrogen industry.”
Of the 50 fellows selected this year, nine work in energy. Of those nine, three are hydrogen companies: geologic hydrogen startups Anning and Hydrify, as well as Brint Tech, which is developing hydrogen leak detectors. Anning is squarely an engineered hydrogen company, aiming to stimulate the production of the molecule underground using an undisclosed technology, while Hydrify is building tools to better locate where natural hydrogen deposits already exist.
Like Broun, Recht sees a clear parallel with the geothermal industry, where Fervo Energy is manipulating the subsurface to create the conditions necessary for geothermal power production and Zanskar is using artificial intelligence models to identify previously overlooked conventional geothermal resources. Anning could become the Fervo of hydrogen, while Hydrify could be its Zanskar, he told me. The parallels also extend beyond the companies themselves: The drilling techniques that underpin geothermal development — largely adapted from the oil and gas industry — stand to be just as critical to unlocking geologic hydrogen, which could give this emerging tech a similar bipartisan appeal.
Natural hydrogen company Koloma is by far the best capitalized startup in this space, having raised around $400 million from big-name backers such as Breakthrough Energy Ventures, Amazon’s Climate Pledge Fund, and Khosla Ventures. That said, it has yet to publish any results indicating it’s discovered commercially significant new deposits. That relative silence from the industry’s biggest player has helped fuel the dreams of the even-more-nascent engineered players such as Anning, Vema Hydrogen, Addis Energy, GeoKiln and Eden GeoPower, who think they can achieve quicker, more consistent breakthroughs.
“By being able to deploy the engineered solution, we’re able to be repeatable and scalable, and ultimately, that’s what customers and infrastructure providers need,” Broun told me. Being able to produce hydrogen closer to where it’s actually used could slash transportation costs, often one of the most expensive parts of the hydrogen value chain as the gas typically must be compressed or liquified before transport. “Being able to place that engineered system at a location that’s much more within your control, I think that that is a far stronger or more appealing business case in many cases,” she explained.
Anning raised a pre-seed round last year, and is now raising a $6 million seed round, which would put it more or less on par with other early players in the engineered hydrogen subsector. Vema has raised the most thus far, bringing in an oversubscribed $13 million seed round last February from a group of climate-focused investors including Extantia Capital and Propeller, and is now raising its Series A.
Vema drills its wells into iron-rich rock formations known as ophiolites, then injects water and a proprietary catalyst to trigger serpentinization, a natural geochemical reaction between water and iron minerals that produces hydrogen gas. While this process would typically unfold over millions of years, Vema says it’s aiming to speed up that reaction by a factor of 10,000 to generate commercial quantities of hydrogen on a human timeframe. The resulting hydrogen gas would then flow back to the surface through the well, where it would be purified before its delivery to customers.
The company’s senior vice president of operations, Colin McCulley, told me he expects that it can all be done for less than $1 per kilogram, the so-called “magic number where you start to compete with petroleum-derived hydrogen.” And Vema’s CEO, Pierre Levin, told TechCrunch that once the startup dials in its tech, the price will eventually drop to less than 50 cents per kilogram, making it definitively the cheapest form of hydrogen yet developed.
The company is currently conducting pilot testing in Quebec, home to the well-mapped Thetford Mines ophiolite deposits. But while Vema has yet to release any early results from this pilot, it’s already laying the groundwork for rapid commercialization. Late last year, Vema signed a conditional 10-year offtake agreement with the off-grid data center power startup Verne to supply up to 36,000 metric tons per year of hydrogen, with delivery expected to begin “as soon as 2028.” Then last week, the startup inked a nonbinding memorandum of understanding with Montreal-based sustainable aviation fuels developer SAF + International Group to supply 4,000 tons of hydrogen annually, also beginning “in approximately 2028.” The group will make that fuel at a facility co-located with Vema’s planned Quebec production site to minimize transport costs.
A report shared with me last month from the Cleantech Group, a San Francisco-based market intelligence and advisory firm, cast some doubts on that timeline, however. It called the 2028 target “over aggressive,” given that Vema will need to build a first of its kind facility to fulfill its deals with Verne and SAF + International Group.
“This is the Earth. This isn’t like your lab space where you can exactly control the pressure and temperature and conditions that exist downhole,” Diana Rasner, author of the report and the firm’s group lead for materials and chemicals, told me. “You’re going into territory you can’t see, or that you don’t know how it behaves day to day, let alone like on the scale of what you would think hydrogen production needs to be.”
Even McCulley admits that it’s a stretch, telling me that, “If we have realistic complexity in our project, it will be difficult to deliver on this timeline.” But he thinks the ambition is essential to demonstrate near-term demand and secure commitments for larger projects down the road. He expects the industry to really hit its stride between 2035 and 2040, by which point he says Vema could be looking at a fourth or fifth large-scale commercial project at costs competitive with fossil fuel-derived hydrogen.
But Vema is now facing competition from startups pursuing markedly different approaches to the same problem. Because heat is a natural accelerant of serpentinization, a company called GeoKiln is forgoing chemical catalysts altogether in favor of underground electric heaters designed to stimulate and speed up hydrogen production. Meanwhile, Eden GeoPower plans to apply high voltage electricity to fracture surrounding rocks, which also releases heat and exposes fresh reactive rock surfaces.
Then there’s Addis Energy, which is betting that ammonia production offers a stronger commercial proposition. Hydrogen is often an intermediate molecule in the process of producing ammonia, which is widely used in fertilizers and has become newly interesting for low-carbon shipping fuel. Addis aims to skip that conversion step entirely by injecting water, its own proprietary catalyst, plus a nitrogen-containing compound into the subsurface, triggering a chemical reaction that directly produces ammonia — a molecule that’s simple to transport using existing shipping infrastructure.
Eden raised a $12 million seed round in 2023, backed by a mix of oil and gas industry investors and sustainability-focused funds, while Addis raised a $8.3 million seed round late last year led by climate tech VC At One Ventures.
But investing in the space, Rasner told me, isn’t something everyone in the VC community is comfortable with these days. “It’s not to say that they didn’t believe in it,” she said of investors who did eventually pull the trigger. But it certainly wasn’t an easy decision. As promises of affordable, low-carbon hydrogen production have come and gone, there’s an undeniable aura of uncertainty around the industry, a feeling that has only grown stronger since the Trump administration curtailed clean hydrogen subsidies and froze funding for the previous Biden administration’s hydrogen hubs initiative.
With natural hydrogen players such as Koloma yet to deliver on their early momentum, Rasner told me many would-be backers are approaching the sector with a general attitude best summarized as, “You’re going to be able to do the thing that a lot of the big names in this space haven’t been able to prove out yet, but on your own terms? What’s the catch?”
Recht, however, naturally has a more optimistic outlook. The subsurface has long supplied the minerals that underpin our modern economy, and now it’s increasingly being tapped for geothermal energy as well. In his view, it’s only natural that it might be able to deliver the long-promised hydrogen economy.
“It turns out we’re really good at digging stuff up out of the ground cheaply. If you look at what has humanity decided to do with the past century, it’s to get good at that.”