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New data provided exclusively to Heatmap shows just how complicated it is to get money where it needs to go.

By the numbers, a new federal program designed to give low-income communities access to renewable energy looks like a smashing success. According to data provided exclusively to Heatmap, in its first year, the Low-Income Communities Bonus Credit Program steered nearly 50,000 solar projects to low-income communities and tribal lands, which are together expected to produce more than $270 million in annual energy savings.
But those topline numbers don’t say anything about who will actually see the savings, or how much the projects will benefit households that have historically been left behind. In reality, the majority of the projects — about 98% — were allocated funding simply for being located in low-income communities, with no hard requirement to deliver energy or financial savings to low-income residents.
A closer look at the data reveals a more complicated success story. While the program did make some clear strides in bridging the solar inequality gap, other factors — including the language in the law that created it — are also holding it back.
The Low-Income Communities Bonus Credit Program came out of the Inflation Reduction Act in August 2022. Though the goal is to increase solar access for low-income households, it’s not actually a tax credit for low income households. It’s for small wind and solar developers — and beginning in 2025, developers of other types of clean energy — whose projects meet certain criteria.
The law caps the total amount of energy the program can support at 1.8 gigawatts per year, and developers have to apply and get their project approved in order to claim funds. To be eligible, a project must produce less than 5 megawatts of power and fall under one of four categories: It must be located in a low-income community, be built on Indian land, be part of an affordable housing development, or distribute at least half its power (and guaranteed bill savings) to low-income households. The first two categories qualify for a 10% credit; the second two, which stipulate that at least some financial benefits go to low-income residents, qualify for 20%. In both cases, the credit can be stacked on top of the baseline 30% tax credit for clean energy projects that meet labor standards, meaning it could slash the cost of building a small solar or wind farm in half.
Each of these provisions has the potential to address at least some of the barriers disadvantaged communities face in accessing clean energy. Low-income homeowners may not have the money for a down payment for rooftop solar or the credit to find financing, for instance. But by giving developers a tax credit for projects located in low-income communities, solar leasing programs, in which homeowners lease panels from a third party in exchange for energy bill savings, now have an incentive to expand into these neighborhoods, and potentially offer lower lease rates. The program helped fund nearly 48,000 residential solar projects in the first year.
Tribal lands, meanwhile, account for more than 5% of solar generation potential in the U.S., but are still a largely untapped resource, for reasons including lack of representation in utility regulatory processes, complex land ownership structures, and limited tribal staff capacity. The program gives outside developers additional incentive to work through the challenges, and it also earmarks funds for tribe-owned development. Crucially, the IRA also opened the door for tribes, as well as other tax-exempt entities, to utilize clean energy incentives and receive a direct payment equal to the tax credits. The program supported 96 solar projects on tribal lands in the first year.
The third category attempts to overcome the famous “split incentive” problem for low-income renters whose landlords have little reason to spend money on a solar project that primarily benefits tenants. The program helped finance 805 solar projects on low-income residential buildings, where the developers are required to distribute at least 50% of the energy savings equitably among tenants.
Lastly, while renters in some states can subscribe to community solar projects, which offer utility bill credits in exchange for a small subscription fee, the subscriptions can be scooped up by wealthier customers if there’s no low-income requirement. The program sponsored 319 community solar projects where at least half the capacity had to go to low-income residents and offer at least 20% off their bills.
U.S. Deputy Secretary of the Treasury Wally Adeyemo declared the program a success. “These investments are already lowering costs, protecting families from energy price spikes, and creating new opportunities in our clean energy future,” he said.
Despite overwhelming demand during the four-month application period, however, the program ended up with capacity to spare. Although applications totaled more than 7 gigawatts, ultimately, the Department approved just over 49,000 projects equal to about 1.4 gigawatts, or roughly enough to power 200,000 average households. All of it was solar.
The gap between applications and awarded projects has to do with the program’s design. The Treasury divided the 1.8 gigawatt cap between the four categories, setting maximum amounts that could be awarded for each one. Within the four categories, the awards were further divided, with half set aside for applicants that met additional ownership or geographic criteria, such as tribal-owned companies, tax-exempt entities, or projects sited in areas with especially high energy costs relative to incomes.
For example, 200 megawatts were earmarked for Indian lands, with half reserved for applicants meeting those additional criteria, but only 40 megawatts were awarded. The fourth category, meanwhile, which was designed to encourage community solar development, was oversubscribed.
Since tax data is confidential, the Treasury Department could not share much detail about these projects, including where, exactly, they were, who developed them, or who will benefit from them. A map overview shows a concentration of awards across the sunbelt, with Illinois, New York, Maine, Massachusetts, and Puerto Rico also seeing a lot of uptake.

I reached out to more than a dozen nonprofits, tribal organizations, and other groups who advocate for or develop clean energy projects benefiting low-income communities to find examples of what the program was actually funding. The first person I was connected with was Richard Best, the director of capital projects and planning for Seattle Public Schools, who got a 10% tax credit for solar arrays on two new schools under construction in low-income neighborhoods. While the school system already planned to put solar on these schools, Best said the tax credits helped offset increased construction costs due to supply chain interruptions, preventing them from having to make compromises on design elements like classroom size.
“It's not insignificant,” he told me. “The solar array at Rainier Beach High School is in excess of a million dollars — just the rooftop solar array. That's $400,000 [in tax credits]. So these are significant dollars that we're receiving, and we're very appreciative.”
Jody Lincoln, an affordable housing development officer for the nonprofit ACTION-Housing in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, got a 10% tax credit to add solar to a former YMCA that the group recently converted to a 74-unit apartment building. The single room occupancy rental units serve men who are coming out of homelessness or incarceration. Lincoln told me the building operates “in the gray,” and that any cost saving measures they can make, including the energy savings from the solar array, enable it to continue to operate as affordable housing. When I asked if they could have built the solar project without access to the IRA’s tax credits, she didn’t hesitate: “No.”
These two examples show the program has potential to deliver benefits to low-income communities, even in cases where the energy savings aren’t going directly to low-income residents.
I also spoke with Alexandra Wyatt, the managing policy director and counsel at the nonprofit solar company Grid Alternatives. She told me Grid partnered with for-profit solar developers, such as the national solar company SunRun, who were approved for the tax credit bonus for rooftop solar lease projects on low-income single-family homes. In these cases, Grid helped pull together other sources of funding like state incentives for projects in disadvantaged communities to pre-pay the leases so that the homeowners could more fully benefit from the energy bill savings.
It’s unlikely that all of the nearly 48,000 residential rooftop solar projects in low-income communities that were approved for the credit in the first year had such virtuous outcomes. It’s also possible that projects installed on wealthier homeowners’ roofs in gentrifying neighborhoods were subsidized. In an email to me, a Treasury spokesperson said the Department recognizes that “simply being in a low-income community does not mean low-income households are being served,” and that it was required by statute to include this category. It was still the agency’s decision, however, to allocate such a large portion of the awards, 700 megawatts, to this category — a decision that some public comments on the program disagreed with.
Wyatt applauded the Treasury and the Department of Energy, which oversees the application process, for doing “an admirable job on a tight timeframe with a challenging program design handed to them by Congress.” She’s especially frustrated by the 1.8 gigawatt cap, which none of the other renewable energy tax credits have, and which changes it into a competitive grant that’s more burdensome both for developers and for the agencies. It adds an element of uncertainty to project finance, she said, since developers have to wait to see if their application for the credit was approved.
Wendolyn Holland, the senior advisor for policy, tax and government relations at the Alliance for Tribal Clean Energy told me there was tons of interest among indigenous communities and tribal clean energy developers in taking advantage of the IRA programs, but it wasn’t really happening. Holland cited challenges for tribes reaching the stage of “commercial readiness” required to apply for federal funding. Tribal developers have also said they are limited by the lack of transmission on tribal lands. When I asked the Treasury about the paltry number of projects on Indian Lands, a spokesperson said it was not for lack of trying. The Department and other federal agencies have conducted webinars and other forms of outreach, they said, through which they’ve heard that many tribes are struggling to access capital for energy projects, and that development on Indian lands has “unique challenges due to the history of allotment of Indian lands and status of some land as federal trust land.”
Holland is optimistic that things will change — in December, Biden issued an executive order committing to making it easier for tribes to access federal funding. The Alliance also recently petitioned the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to address barriers for tribal energy development in its new rules that are supposed to get more transmission built.
The unallocated capacity from 2023 was carried over to the next year’s round of funding, so it wasn’t lost. But a dashboard tracking the second year of the program looks like it's following a similar pattern. While the community solar-oriented category, which was increased to allow for 900 megawatts, is nearly filled up, the tribal Lands category, which kept its 200 megawatt cap, has received applications to develop less than a sixth of that.
Wyatt said that so far, she does think the bonus credit has been successful in spurring good projects that might not otherwise have happened. Still, it will probably take a few years before it will be possible to assess how well it’s working. The good news is, as long as it doesn’t get repealed, the program could run for up to eight more years, leaving plenty of time to improve things. It’s already set to change in one key way. Beginning in 2025, it becomes tech-neutral, meaning that developers of small hydroelectric, geothermal heating or power, or nuclear projects, will be able to apply. (When asked why no wind projects were approved to date, a spokesperson for the Treasury said taxpayer privacy rules meant it couldn’t comment on applications, but they added that wind projects tend to be larger than 5 megawatts and take longer to develop.)
One thing is for sure, despite the heavy administrative burden of screening tens of thousands of applications, the agencies involved are clearly committed to implementing the program.
“I’m definitely pleased that they managed to get the program up and running as quickly as they did,” Wyatt told me. “I mean, it's kind of lightning speed for the IRS.”
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The “35x35” electrification pledge and an AI pledge are on the table.
World leaders are flocking to the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya, Turkey, this weekend for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP31. The U.S., of course, will once again not attend, as President Trump not only withdrew the country from the Paris Agreement but also from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the umbrella group that organizes the annual conferences. Still, 194 other governments will be there, putting their heads together on how to move another few inches toward a safer future.
This year, as with the last several convenings, the meeting arrives against a backdrop of geopolitical instability, worsening climate impacts, and growing concern about energy security and affordability. While conflicts like the Iran war in some ways bolster the case for the energy transition by surfacing the risks of fossil fuel dependence, prioritizing energy security can manifest as countries turning inward and showing less willingness to work for the global good.
Perhaps the biggest item on this year’s agenda is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035, up from about 23% today. That would mean switching from gas-powered cars to electric vehicles and from burning fuels for heat to electric heat pumps. It would not necessarily mean generating all of the electricity to power those devices from clean sources, although countries have committed to triple renewable energy capacity during previous COPs. Turkey itself does not have a plan to phase out fossil fuels, and its use of coal and natural gas-fired power plants has been growing alongside renewables.
It’s not yet clear whether Turkey will encourage countries to sign onto the pledge outside of the main negotiations or try to get it into the final decision text of the conference. In a twist, the conference has two countries sharing the presidency this year, with Turkey playing host and overseeing the “action agenda” — the announcements, commitments, and dealmaking that happen outside the official negotiations — and its co-chair, Australia, mediating the formal talks.
In addition to the electrification goal, Turkey is also inviting countries to sign an artificial intelligence pledge declaring a “shared ambition to make AI part of the climate solution — sustainably powered, efficiently designed, transparently measured and available to all.” The pledge has no teeth, however, as it explicitly states that it creates “no new obligations” and notes that it should be implemented according to national priorities and circumstances.
Although there will be no big agreement like there was in Paris in 2015, the two weeks of talks will end, per usual, with a consensus document that summarizes the outcomes of the negotiations. The final text from last year’s conference in Belém, Brazil, set a new goal to triple finance for climate adaptation by 2035. Countries also agreed to create a “Just Transition Mechanism,” a program to help fossil fuel-based economies navigate the socioeconomic consequences of shifting to clean energy. But the final text at COP30 did not ultimately mention the creation of a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels, despite more than 80 countries supporting the idea, and didn’t, in fact, mention “fossil fuels” at all.
Much of the work this year will be about building on those outcomes. The climate adaptation finance goal, for example, is still fuzzy, as the parties did not agree on a baseline year from which to triple the funding, or define what types of finance count toward the goal, meaning it’s unclear what the actual target amount for 2035 is. The Just Transition Mechanism is similarly skeletal — negotiators will need to hammer out how to operationalize it into something useful. Countries are also supposed to make progress on the Global Goal on Adaptation, an as-yet ill-defined goal first established in the Paris Agreement that negotiators are still working out how to implement.
Then there’s the overarching theme of finance. As I’ve written in the past, every annual climate conference is ultimately a fight over money — specifically how much developed countries are sending to developing countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects.
To date, countries have agreed to mobilize $1.3 trillion annually in climate finance from all sources for developing countries by 2035, with $300 specifically coming from developed countries. Climate finance reached record levels in 2024, the most recent year with comprehensive data, with total global flows hitting $2 trillion and funding from developed to developing countries reaching $136.7 billion.
But progress is uneven. Only 2% of global investment in renewable energy over the past two decades went to Africa, said Brian Mukhaya, a senior manager on the Clean Air Task Force’s Africa team, during a recent media briefing. Finance challenges may also collide with the conference’s electrification goal. More than 550 million people in sub-Saharan Africa lack access to electricity, Mukhaya said, and the continent will need seven to eight times current investment levels to achieve universal electricity access by 2030. Also, while the rising cost of capital is becoming an impediment to building clean energy projects everywhere in the world, the problem is acute in Africa, where the average cost of capital for power-sector investments is three to five times higher than in Europe and North America.
At COP31, negotiators will try to make progress on questions such as what form climate finance should take (grants, concessional loans, private finance, etc), how it can be more effectively distributed, and what it should be used for.
Another question hanging over this year’s conference is whether the final text will acknowledge the likelihood of surpassing 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, the more ambitious target laid out in the Paris Agreement. Last year’s decision text contained a tacit admission, with countries resolving to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.” Doing so requires a more serious discussion of carbon removal strategies than delegates have engaged in to date.
With the world seemingly careening past the 1.5 degrees target, the annual climate talks have lost some of their luster. Critics increasingly call for a new approach. Ani Dasgupta, the president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, for example, wants the COPs to center more on accountability and holding countries to their commitments. He also recommends developing a new decision-making process that does not allow a handful of countries to block decisions. Since the substance of the negotiations is becoming more and more about how to finance the transition, he argues the conference should also broaden its tent to bring in finance ministers and central banks.
“Where we are today is different from 1992 when COPs were set up,” he said during a recent press call. “The world is different. The broader needs are different. We are at a different place in the transition. And we actually haven't reformed the system.”
Progressive candidate Jane Kim declared victory in the race for California Insurance Commissioner.
Few political wonks outside of California were likely paying much attention to the Golden State on Tuesday night, as Democrats’ anticipated blue wave crested. But the state did have one close, consequential race on the ballot: insurance commissioner. On Friday, Bernie Sanders-endorsed progressive Jane Kim won the race to lead the California Department of Insurance, which oversees the state’s $452 billion insurance market.
Kim declared victory over the more moderate State Senator Ben Allen, who was backed by the California Democratic Party, after reaching a nearly six-point lead on Friday. In a brief speech before supporters, Kim said Allen called to congratulate her that morning. (A spokesman for the Allen campaign confirmed the call to The Orange County Register.) Kim ran on a proposal for a state-run, single-payer insurance program that would cover homeowners against wildfire damage — though the plan would ultimately need approval from both the California legislature and Governor-elect Xavier Becerra.
The idea is that homeowners would automatically receive public coverage for wildfire-related losses, with payouts capped at roughly what it costs to rebuild a typical California home. Policyholders would keep their regular private insurance for other risks such as theft, burst pipes, or an ordinary kitchen fire. Kim says Californians wouldn’t pay more overall, since the money for the program would come from the share of premiums that already goes toward wildfire coverage, though each household’s bill would partly depend on its own wildfire risk.
“It would be nonprofit, and so any excess capital would stay in the state of California and would be used to drive down risk,” Kim told my colleague Matthew Zeitlin a few weeks ago. “That’s the most important piece about this actually, is that it would create another revenue stream for mitigation.”
The insurance commissioner job has taken on an increasing sense of urgency as wildfires — intensified by climate change — continue ripping through communities in California. Mounting losses from hotter, drier conditions combined with decades of new construction in the wildland-urban interface have squeezed insurers’ profits, leading many to drop policyholders in high-risk areas or simply stop writing new policies in the state altogether.
California’s homeowners insurance premiums climbed 84% between December 2020 and March of this year, according to Stanford researchers. Meanwhile, a growing number of residents have been pushed onto the state’s FAIR Plan, which my colleague Matthew described as “the barebones insurer of last resort.” The share of California’s single-family homes covered by the plan has nearly tripled over that same period, from under 2% to about 5%, as homeowners in even low- and moderate-risk wildfire areas increasingly find themselves with few alternatives.
The insurance crunch has become yet another front in California’s broader affordability crisis, alongside persistently high housing, electricity, and gasoline costs. Kim’s victory suggests frustrated voters are increasingly willing to support more radical solutions that once seemed politically out of reach. And while Kim doesn’t have a background in the insurance industry, she’s no stranger to public office. The former civil rights attorney served on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2011 to 2019 before becoming a regional director for Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign.
But throughout her run for the Insurance office, critics have continually questioned how, exactly, her plan would work. No state has attempted a public disaster insurance program like this before; critics argue there’s no relevant model to work off of, no white paper laying out the details, and no price tag attached to the idea. Kim herself acknowledges that there’s plenty of uncertainty surrounding the plan. “This is a concept and a proposal, and could look quite different by the time it works its way through the process,” she told Matthew. In other words, the program that eventually emerges from negotiations with lawmakers — if one does — could end up looking considerably different from what Kim campaigned on.
Her opponent, Allen, who chairs the state senate’s Energy, Utilities and Communications Committee, argued that creating a public wildfire insurance program would impose a significant financial burden on the state. The California Earthquake Authority, an agency that sells earthquake insurance and administers the state’s Wildfire Fund, examined the potential costs of such a program this spring, estimating it would require roughly $25 billion upfront to have a 75% chance of staying solvent for 20 years. But Kim points out in her policy brief that buying reinsurance — essentially insurance for the insurer — could cut that to about $6 billion.
Allen, on the other hand, pitched a series of reforms to the existing market, including speeding up rate reviews, rewarding homeowners and communities for wildfire mitigation, expanding financing for home-hardening projects, and discouraging development in high-risk areas.
Voters opted instead for the insurance revolution. But Kim argues that her plan isn’t totally without precedent. On the campaign trail, she frequently pointed to New Zealand, where the government’s Natural Hazards Commission provides homeowners with public coverage for disasters including earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis — though notably not ordinary wildfires. And while France and Spain also operate state-backed disaster insurance programs, these don’t cover wildfires either, a far more common occurrence in California than the comparably rare disasters these programs were built around abroad.
Ultimately, Kim’s ambitious plan will require a champion in the legislature to go anywhere. But in the meantime, there are other issues she could get to work on. On the campaign trail, she said she wants to push insurers to fund a disaster mitigation program run by the Department of Insurance, require companies selling auto policies in a region to also offer homeowners coverage there, and impose minimum loss ratios compelling home insurers to pay at least 65% of premiums in claims and auto insurers at least 70%. It’s unclear, however, whether Kim can implement either of the latter two proposals without new legislation.
Kim will also immediately face the question of what to do with outgoing Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara’s Sustainable Insurance Strategy reform package. Designed to entice insurers back to California, these new rules allow companies to set premiums using forward-looking risk models rather than relying on historical losses, and to pass a portion of their rising reinsurance costs onto policyholders. In exchange, insurers are required to write more policies in wildfire-prone areas.
Kim has criticized this approach, arguing that insurers have exploited loopholes to raise premiums on lower-risk customers while continuing to underserve high-risk communities, all without doing enough to address the underlying factors driving wildfire risk.
That leaves Kim in a tricky situation. Until she is able to secure legislative backing for some version of her proposed public insurance program, she’ll have to decide whether to scrap or simply build on the existing reforms. She hasn’t yet laid out any plan for doing so. But whatever direction she takes could ultimately reshape California’s insurance market well before a new state insurer gets off the ground.
They only ticked up by 5% this week.
Beyond the repudiation of Donald Trump, if there was one message voters sent on election night, it was that they really don’t like data centers.
Democrats who ran against rampant data center development won at both the gubernatorial level (Amy Acton in Ohio, Gina Hinojosa in Texas) and the senatorial level (Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan, Annie Andrews in South Carolina). The Wall Street Journal counted 125 Democrats nationwide who “targeted their opponents over data centers.”
“Data centers are the midterms’ other big loser,” according to Politico. “The Results Are In: Voters Hate Data Centers,” from Wired.
Commentators didn’t just notice that many anti-data-center candidates won, but that a number of local data center moratoria passed as well. “In nearly every case, it’'s about 67-80% opposing data centers. True in California, Ohio, everywhere,” Brad Carson, head of the artificial intelligence policy group Americans for Responsible Innovation tweeted. Added Democratic strategist David Shor on X, “Voters sided against data centers in 40 of 41 ballot measures, with basically no correlation to how red a county was.”
But as far as new legislation and ordinances go, November 3 was just another Tuesday in the long-running local campaign against data center development, Heatmap Pro data shows.
“Forty is a lot in one day,” Owen Curtin, a data analyst with our intelligence platform Heatmap Pro, admitted, but “in terms of the rate at which county governments are enacting legislation and the overwhelming public support for them, it’s not new.”
There have been over 830 restrictive measures passed this year, according to analysis from Heatmap Pro, which breaks down to just over 80 per month. The numbers picked up substantially in the summer and fall.

June 15 to 21 was the busiest week of the year for passing data center laws, at 35, and June the month with the most laws passed overall, with 133. Another95 restrictive laws were passed in July, followed by 86 in October.
Of the 40 ballot measures passed this week, only one applied at the county level (Morgan County, Illinois), where a great deal of data center permitting occurs. “While many municipalities permit data centers, a significant portion are permitted by county governments. Not all counties have the legal authority to pursue ballot measures, which is why most November 2 measures were at the municipal level,” Curtin explained.
“While the overwhelming support for local data center ballot measures is indicative of public sentiment (largely anti-data center), it doesn’t necessarily correlate with the regulatory landscape,” he went on. And here’s a fun fact: “There are over 19,000 municipalities in the U.S., so 40 bans are only 0.2% of all municipalities,” Curtain added. “If 40 municipalities banned data centers every day, it would take 475 days to ban data centers across the entire U.S.”