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What happens when America’s biggest source of clean energy pivots to hydrogen?
After the Inflation Reduction Act was signed into law, and initial excitement about its historic investment in tackling climate change turned to deeper analysis, researchers made an alarming discovery. One of the IRA’s big ticket items, a tax credit for clean hydrogen, risks underwriting a major increase in emissions if not implemented carefully. That finding has erupted into a high-stakes debate over how the Treasury Department should define “clean hydrogen.”
Treasury’s decision, which is expected in the coming weeks, will have many implications, but one that deserves more scrutiny is what it could mean for nuclear power, still the largest and most reliable source of carbon-free energy in the U.S.
Nuclear reactors are uniquely well-suited to power hydrogen production, which in turn holds great promise to clean up some of the hardest parts of the economy to decarbonize.
But there's a trade-off: If any of the existing nuclear fleet pivots to making hydrogen, coal and natural gas plants are likely to fill in for that lost power on the grid. That would drive up emissions in the near term and make it harder for states to achieve their clean energy goals.
The debate boils down to whether it’s more advantageous to use our existing nuclear fleet to kickstart a hydrogen economy — likely sacrificing near-term emission reductions in the process — or to shore up a carbon-free grid.
This is what the Treasury Department must grapple with as it writes the rules for the new tax credit. In an exclusive interview with Heatmap, officials from the Department of Energy, which is advising the Treasury, said they want to see existing nuclear plants qualify. But as Daniel Esposito, a senior policy analyst at the nonprofit Energy Innovation, told me, “There's just a lot of layers to how bad this can get.”
Hydrogen already plays an essential, yet small role in the global economy as an ingredient in the production of fertilizer and oil refining. But as the world looks for alternatives to fossil fuels, hydrogen, which burns without releasing carbon, could play a much bigger role by powering industries that are proving difficult to decarbonize with renewable electricity, like shipping, aviation, and steelmaking. The challenge is that it takes energy to make hydrogen in the first place. Today the vast majority is made in a carbon-intensive process involving natural gas or coal.
There is an alternative method, called electrolysis, which extracts hydrogen from water using electricity and doesn’t directly release emissions. But it’s too expensive to be competitive with the fossil fuel version right now. The tax credit in the Inflation Reduction Act could change that, but to qualify, hydrogen producers would have to prove their electricity is carbon-free, too.
That’s where nuclear power comes in.
There are many reasons nuclear plants are considered a good fit for this process. Electrolyzers, the enabling technology for electrolysis, are still relatively new and expensive. Nuclear reactors could power them 24/7, maximizing production.
Nuclear plants are also well-located. They sit near bodies of water, which is necessary for electrolysis. They’re often adjacent to rail lines that could transport the resulting hydrogen. And many are close to heavy industrial sites that could become customers.
There’s potential for efficiency gains — a lot of nuclear reactors already require a bit of hydrogen for their operations, so they could produce their own instead of shipping it in.
And perhaps most thrillingly, nuclear reactors produce a lot of heat. With a more nascent version of the technology called high temperature electrolysis, that heat could be harnessed to boil water into steam, reducing the amount of energy required to extract hydrogen from it.
Unfortunately, there’s one big drawback. The nation’s existing nuclear plants already run at more than 90% capacity. They supply nearly 20% of total annual electricity generation. They don’t exactly have more energy to give.
Esposito and others warn that the hydrogen tax credit is so lucrative that if the Treasury’s upcoming rules allow existing reactors to qualify as a zero-emissions source of electricity, it would create a perverse incentive for nuclear companies to start diverting their power to hydrogen production. Nuclear plants currently earn about $30 per megawatt-hour from energy markets, but Esposito estimates they could earn $60 to $70 per megawatt-hour by producing hydrogen. Though indirectly, this would almost certainly increase U.S. emissions in the near term.
“You could see a world where all of the U.S. nukes pivot to supplying electrolyzers and just print money that way,” said Esposito. “Then you're pulling off 20% of U.S. power, and fossil fuels would be what fill in for that, because we just can't build clean energy fast enough to replace it.”
But Constellation Energy, the country’s largest owner of nuclear plants, with big plans to produce hydrogen, argues that letting its reactors qualify under the tax credit rules isn’t about printing money, but about making clean hydrogen cheap enough that customers actually buy it.
“By lowering the cost of the hydrogen, the tax credit is going to increase the ability of manufacturers and other hydrogen users to decarbonize their operations,” Mason Emnett, senior vice president of public policy at Constellation, told me. “Without that support, there's just not going to be a market for clean hydrogen.”
Top Department of Energy officials seem to agree. “We're very hopeful that [the tax credit] will be applicable to existing reactors,” Dr. Kathryn Huff, assistant secretary of the Office of Nuclear Energy, told me in an interview.
The Department of Energy has long been excited by the synergies between nuclear plants and hydrogen production. In fact, just a few years ago, the agency saw hydrogen as a new market that could save the nation’s nuclear plants, which were shutting down left and right as they struggled to compete with the cheap natural gas of the fracking boom.
But today, natural gas prices are up. There’s a bevy of new government grants and subsidies from the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law and the Inflation Reduction Act to keep nuclear plants open. Now hydrogen looks more like a great business opportunity than a savior for the industry.
Last September, not long after the Inflation Reduction Act was signed, Morgan Stanley issued a report noting that Constellation was poised to unlock new opportunities for its nuclear plants and “attractive returns for hydrogen facilities,” according to S&PGlobal. If the company dedicated just 5% of its capacity to hydrogen production, the report said, it could increase its annual earnings before taxes by $300 to $350 million.
Constellation made its first big move in February, announcing plans to build a $900 million hydrogen production facility in the Midwest that will use 250 MW of its existing capacity. That’s only about 1% of the company’s total nuclear fleet. But to Esposito, it’s a worrisome sign.
“It’s very likely we’d see many other similar announcements,” he told me. “And crucially, as these clean energy resources switch from powering the grid to producing hydrogen, we’d be losing our cheapest existing sources of clean electricity.”
It’s also concerning to climate advocates in Illinois, where Constellation owns six nuclear plants. The state has an ambitious clean energy goal, and is counting on those reactors to be a source of always-available, carbon-free electricity as it shuts down coal plants and builds more renewables.
“Even if it's small, that's still headed in the wrong direction in a world where we are fighting as hard as we can to quickly decarbonize the power sector,” said JC Kibbey, a clean energy advocate with the Natural Resources Defense Council in Illinois.
Constellation doesn’t see that as the company’s problem. Emnett said that much of its nuclear generation is already contracted out to local utilities for the benefit of customers for the next several years, meaning it can’t be “diverted” to hydrogen, at least until those contracts are up. The rest is theirs to sell to whomever wants to buy it. “There's no diversion of electricity,” he said. “There's electricity that is available for use, and we can sell electricity to power a shopping center or we can sell electricity to power an electrolyzer for hydrogen production.”
Constellation also makes the case that if one of its reactors are powering a hydrogen plant on-site, without using the grid at all, there should be no question that the process is carbon-free.
But Rachel Fakhry, a senior climate and clean energy advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council, said it doesn’t matter whether a hydrogen facility is connected directly to a clean power source or whether it gets power through the grid. The issue is when no new, clean resources have been built to support this big new source of demand. In either case, less nuclear power will be flowing to other customers, and more coal or gas-fired generation will ramp up to fill in the gap. Electrolysis is so energy-intensive that those indirect emissions would be higher than emissions from current hydrogen production using natural gas. “Treasury must account for those induced emissions,” Fakhry said.
Many climate and energy policy experts agree that the resulting hydrogen should not be subsidized, or considered “clean.”
The law itself sends mixed messages to the Treasury about what Congress intended. It says the Department must account for “lifecycle” greenhouse gas emissions from hydrogen production, but it also includes a clause that explicitly permits existing nuclear plant operators to claim the tax credit.
Fakhry argued this should not be interpreted to mean nuclear companies are entitled to the credit. She said one way existing plants could qualify is if they are modified to increase their power output.
Some experts see a middle ground. Adam Stein, director of the Nuclear Energy Innovation program at the Breakthrough Institute, said those induced emissions are not the full picture.
He cited a number of other factors to consider, like the fact that one of the main obstacles to building new sources of clean energy right now is a clogged electric grid. If diverting some nuclear power to hydrogen frees up some room on the grid, that could be a good thing. “The question does not become, in my view, whether nuclear power plants should be eligible for this,” he said. “It’s at what point in the sliding scale of percentage of the tax credit they should be eligible for.” The tax credit is tiered, such that companies can earn different amounts depending on the carbon intensity of their production process.
In a sense, the debate is also about short-term and long-term priorities.
When I asked Huff, the assistant secretary in the Office of Nuclear Energy, whether she felt there were any risks of pairing nuclear and hydrogen, she only noted the shortcomings of not doing so. “I think there are risks in terms of whether or not we can successfully scale up a hydrogen economy,” she said. “There is this risk that it never materializes.”
Her colleague Jason Tokey, the team lead for reactor optimization and modernization chimed in. “As a country, we're not seeking to just decarbonize the power grid, we're seeking to decarbonize the entire economy,” he said. “Clean hydrogen has a critical role to play in that economy-wide decarbonization, and using clean energy sources like nuclear to produce hydrogen really enables that.”
The agency is also excited about the prospect of innovations that could help decarbonize both the grid and the rest of the economy. There are already hours of the day in some places where nuclear plants aren’t needed because there’s so much solar power being produced, said Huff. She said the “operational vision” is to have nuclear operators learn how to switch back and forth between serving the grid and offloading their power into hydrogen when it’s not needed, which will enable more renewable resources to come online. “It is absolutely imperative that we make sure nuclear plants can flex with the grid.”
Emnett said Constellation is planning to test this out at Nine Mile Point, a nuclear plant in upstate New York that received $5.8 million from the DOE for a hydrogen production pilot project.
“We are excited about the possibility of creating flexibility for nuclear plants,” he said. “You can start to think about a system where nuclear with flexible hydrogen production is pairing with variable wind and solar and batteries in a decarbonized future world. And so we're at a point now where we're proving out those capabilities.”
But without the tax credit, he said, “there's just not any conversation, there's no ability to explore the innovation, because we never get out of the gate.”
Whether that gate should be swung open or shut is now in the hands of the U.S. Department of Treasury.
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Current conditions: Bosnia’s capital of Sarajevo is blanketed in a layer of toxic smog • Temperatures in Perth, in Western Australia, could hit 106 degrees Fahrenheit this weekend • It is cloudy in Washington, D.C., where lawmakers are scrambling to prevent a government shutdown.
The weather has gotten so weird that the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is holding internal talks about how to adjust its models to produce more accurate forecasts, the Financial Timesreported. Current models are based on temperature swings observed over one part of the Pacific Ocean that have for years correlated consistently with specific weather phenomena across the globe, but climate change seems to be disrupting that cause and effect pattern, making it harder to predict things like La Niña and El Niño. Many forecasters had expected La Niña to appear by now and help cool things down, but that has yet to happen. “It’s concerning when this region we’ve studied and written all these papers on is not related to all the impacts you’d see with [La Niña],” NOAA’s Michelle L’Heureux told the FT. “That’s when you start going ‘uh-oh’ there may be an issue here we need to resolve.”
There is quite a lot of news coming out of the Department of Energy as the year (and the Biden administration) comes to an end. A few recent updates:
Walmart, the world’s largest retailer, does not expect to meet its 2025 or 2030 emissions targets, and is putting the blame on policy, infrastructure, and technology limitations. The company previously pledged to cut its emissions by 35% by next year, and 65% by the end of the decade. Emissions in 2023 were up 4% year-over-year.
Walmart
“While we continue to work toward our aspirational target of zero operational emissions by 2040, progress will not be linear … and depends not only on our own initiatives but also on factors beyond our control,” Walmart’s statement said. “These factors include energy policy and infrastructure in Walmart markets around the world, availability of more cost-effective low-GWP refrigeration and HVAC solutions, and timely emergence of cost-effective technologies for low-carbon heavy tractor transportation (which does not appear likely until the 2030s).”
BlackRock yesterday said it is writing down the value of its Global Renewable Power Fund III following the failure of Northvolt and SolarZero, two companies the fund had invested in. Its net internal rate of return was -0.3% at the end of the third quarter, way down from 11.5% in the second quarter, according toBloomberg. Sectors like EV charging, transmission, and renewable energy generation and storage have been “particularly challenged,” executives said, and some other renewables companies in the portfolio have yet to get in the black, meaning their valuations may be “more subjective and sensitive to evolving dynamics in the industry.”
Flies may be more vulnerable to climate change than bees are, according to a new study published in the Journal of Melittology. The fly haters among us might shrug at the finding, but the researchers insist flies are essential pollinators that help bolster ecosystem biodiversity and agriculture. “It’s time we gave flies some more recognition for their role as pollinators,” said lead author Margarita López-Uribe, who is the Lorenzo Langstroth Early Career Associate Professor of Entomology at Penn State. The study found bees can tolerate higher temperatures than flies, so flies are at greater risk of decline as global temperatures rise. “In alpine and subarctic environments, flies are the primary pollinator,” López-Uribe said. “This study shows us that we have entire regions that could lose their primary pollinator as the climate warms, which could be catastrophic for those ecosystems.”
“No one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded.” –Heatmap’s Jeva Lange writes about the challenges facing climate cinema, and why 2024 might be the year the climate movie grew up.
Whether you agree probably depends on how you define “climate movie” to begin with.
Climate change is the greatest story of our time — but our time doesn’t seem to invent many great stories about climate change. Maybe it’s due to the enormity and urgency of the subject matter: Climate is “important,” and therefore conscripted to the humorless realms of journalism and documentary. Or maybe it’s because of a misunderstanding on the part of producers and storytellers, rooted in an outdated belief that climate change still needs to be explained to an audience, when in reality they don’t need convincing. Maybe there’s just not a great way to have a character mention climate change and not have it feel super cringe.
Whatever the reason, between 2016 and 2020, less than 3% of film and TV scripts used climate-related keywords during their runtime, according to an analysis by media researchers at the University of Southern California. (The situation isn’t as bad in literature, where cli-fi has been going strong since at least 2013.) At least on the surface, this on-screen avoidance of climate change continued in 2024. One of the biggest movies of the summer, Twisters, had an extreme weather angle sitting right there, but its director, Lee Isaac Chung, went out of his way to ensure the film didn’t have a climate change “message.”
I have a slightly different take on the situation, though — that 2024 was actuallyfull of climate movies, and, I’d argue, that they’re getting much closer to the kinds of stories a climate-concerned individual should want on screen.
That’s because for the most part, when movies and TV shows have tackled the topic of climate change in the past, it’s been with the sort of “simplistic anger-stoking and pathos-wringing” that The New Yorker’s Richard Brody identified in 2022’s Don’t Look Up, the Adam McKay satire that became the primary touchpoint for scripted climate stories. At least it was kind of funny: More overt climate stories like last year’s Foe, starring Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal, and Extrapolations, the Apple TV+ show in which Meryl Streep voices a whale, are so self-righteous as to be unwatchable (not to mention, no fun).
But what if we widened our lens and weren’t so prescriptive? Then maybe Furiosa, this spring’s Mad Max prequel, becomes a climate change movie. The film is set during a “near future” ecological collapse, and it certainly makes you think about water scarcity and our overreliance on a finite extracted resource — but it also makes you think about how badass the Octoboss’ kite is. The same goes for Dune: Part Two, which made over $82 million in its opening weekend and is also a recognizable environmental allegory featuring some cool worms. Even Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, a flop that most people have already memory-holed, revisitedThe Day After Tomorrow’s question of, “What if New York City got really, really, really cold?”
Two 2024 animated films with climate themes could even compete against each other at the Academy Awards next year. Dreamworks Animation’s The Wild Robot, one of the centerpiece films at this fall’s inaugural Climate Film Festival, is set in a world where sea levels have risen to submerge the Golden Gate Bridge, and it impresses on its audience the importance of protecting the natural world. And in Gints Zilbalodis’ Flow, one of my favorite films of the year, a cat must band together with other animals to survive a flood.
Flow also raises the question of whether a project can unintentionally be a climate movie. Zilbalodis told me that making a point about environmental catastrophe wasn’t his intention — “I can’t really start with the message, I have to start with the character,” he said — and to him, the water is a visual metaphor in an allegory about overcoming your fears.
But watching the movie in a year when more than a thousand people worldwide have died in floods, and with images of inundated towns in North Carolina still fresh in mind, it’s actually climate change itself that makes one watch Flow as a movie about climate change. (I’m not the only one with this interpretation, either: Zilbalodis told me he’d been asked by one young audience member if the flood depicted in his film is “the future.”)
Perhaps this is how we should also consider Chung’s comments about Twisters. While nobody in the film says the words “climate change” or “global warming,” the characters note that storms are becoming exceptional — “we've never seen tornadoes like this before,” one says. Despite the director’s stated intention not to make the movie “about” climate change, it becomes a climate movie by virtue of what its audiences have experienced in their own lives.
Still, there’s that niggling question: Do movies like these, which approach climate themes slant-wise, really count? To help me decide, I turned to Sam Read, the executive director of the Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, an advocacy consortium that encourages environmental awareness both on set and on screen. He told me that to qualify something as a “climate” movie or TV show, some research groups look to see if climate change exists in the world of the story or whether the characters acknowledge it. Other groups consider climate in tiers, such as whether a project has a climate premise, theme, or simply a moment.
The Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, however, has no hard rules. “We want to make sure that we support creatives in integrating these stories in whatever way works for them,” Read told me.
Read also confirmed my belief that there seemed to be an uptick in movies this year that were “not about climate change but still deal with things that feel very climate-related, like resource extraction.” There was even more progress on this front in television, he pointed out: True Detective: Night Country wove in themes of environmentalism, pollution, mining, and Indigenous stewardship; the Max comedy Hacks featured an episode about climate change this season; and Industry involved a storyline about taking a clean energy company public, with some of the characters even attending COP. Even Doctor Odyssey, a cruise ship medical drama that airs on USA, worked climate change into its script, albeit in ridiculous ways. (Also worth mentioning: The Netflix dating show Love is Blind cast Taylor Krause, who works on decarbonizing heavy industry at RMI.)
We can certainly do more. As many critics before me have written, it’s still important to draw a connection between things like environmental catastrophes and the real-world human causes of global warming. But the difference between something being “a climate movie” and propaganda — however true its message, or however well-intentioned — is thin. Besides, no one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded; we want to be moved and distracted and entertained.
I’ve done my fair share of complaining over the past few years about how climate storytelling needs to grow up. But lately I’ve been coming around to the idea that it’s not the words “climate change” appearing in a script that we need to be so focused on. As 2024’s slate of films has proven to me — or, perhaps, as this year’s extreme weather events have thrown into relief — there are climate movies everywhere.
Keep ‘em coming.
They might not be worried now, but Democrats made the same mistake earlier this year.
Permitting reform is dead in the 118th Congress.
It died earlier this week, although you could be forgiven for missing it. On Tuesday, bipartisan talks among lawmakers fell apart over a bid to rewrite parts of the National Environmental Policy Act. The changes — pushed for by Representative Bruce Westerman, chairman of the House Natural Resources Committee — would have made it harder for outside groups to sue to block energy projects under NEPA, a 1970 law that governs the country’s process for environmental decisionmaking.
When those talks died, they also killed a separate deal over permitting struck earlier this year between Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia and Senator John Barrasso of Wyoming. That deal, as I detailed last week, would have loosened some federal rules around oil and gas drilling in exchange for a new, quasi-mandatory scheme to build huge amounts of long-distance transmission.
Rest in peace, I suppose. Even if lawmakers could not agree on NEPA changes, I think Republicans made a mistake by not moving forward with the Manchin-Barrasso deal. (I still believe that the standalone deal could have passed the Senate and the House if put to a vote.) At this point, I do not think we will see another shot at bipartisan permitting reform until at least late 2026, when the federal highway law will need fresh funding.
But it is difficult to get too upset about this failure because larger mistakes have since compounded the initial one. On Wednesday, Republican Speaker Mike Johnson’s bipartisan deal to fund the government — which is, after all, a much more fundamental task of governance than rewriting some federal permitting laws — fell apart, seemingly because Donald Trump and Elon Musk decided they didn’t like it. If I can indulge in the subjunctive for a moment: That breakdown might have likely killed any potential permitting deal, too. So even in a world where lawmakers somehow did strike a deal earlier this week, it might already be dead. (As I write this, the House GOP has reportedly reached a new deal to fund the government through March, which has weakened or removed provisions governing pharmacy benefit managers and limiting American investments in China.)
The facile reading of this situation is that Republicans now hold the advantage. The Trump administration will soon be able to implement some of the fossil fuel provisions in the Manchin-Barrasso deal through the administrative state. Trump will likely expand onshore and offshore drilling, will lease the government’s best acreage to oil and gas companies, and will approve as many liquified natural gas export terminals as possible. His administration will do so, however, without the enhanced legal protection that the deal would have provided — and while those protections are not a must-have, especially with a friendly Supreme Court, their absence will still allow environmental groups to try to run down the clock on some of Trump’s more ambitious initiatives.
Republicans believe that they will be able to get parts of permitting reform done in a partisan reconciliation bill next year. These efforts seem quite likely to run aground, at least as long as something like the current rules governing reconciliation bills hold. I have heard some crazy proposals on this topic — what if skipping a permitting fight somehow became a revenue-raiser for the federal government? — but even they do not touch the deep structure of NEPA in the way a bipartisan compromise could. As Westerman toldPolitico’s Josh Siegel: “We need 60 votes in the Senate to get real permitting reform … People are just going to have to come to an agreement on what permitting reform is.” In any case, Manchin and the Democrats already tried to reform the permitting system via a partisan reconciliation bill and found it essentially impossible.
Even if reconciliation fails, Republicans say, they will still be in a better negotiating position next year than this year because the party will control a few more Senate votes. But will they? The GOP will just have come off a difficult fight over tax reform. Twelve or 24 months from now, demands on the country’s electricity grid are likely to be higher than they are today, and the risk of blackouts will be higher than before. The lack of a robust transmission network will hinder the ability to build a massive new AI infrastructure, as some of Trump’s tech industry backers hope. But 12 or 24 months from now, too, Democrats — furious at Trump — are not going to be in a dealmaking mood, and Republicans have relatively few ways to bring them to the table.
In any case, savvy Republicans should have realized that it is important to get supply-side economic reforms done as early in a president’s four-year term as possible. Such changes take time to filter through the system and turn into real projects and real economic activity; passing the law as early as possible means that the president’s party can enjoy them and campaign on them.
All of it starts to seem more and more familiar. When Manchin and Barrasso unveiled their compromise earlier this year, Democrats didn’t act quickly on it. They felt confident that the window for a deal wouldn’t close — and they looked forward to a potential trifecta, when they would be able to get even more done (and reject some of Manchin’s fossil fuel-friendly compromises).
Democrats, I think, wound up regretting the cavalier attitude that they brought to permitting reform before Trump’s win. But now the GOP is acting the same way: It is rejecting compromises, believing that it will be able to strike a better deal on permitting issues during its forthcoming trifecta. That was a mistake when Democrats did it. I think it will be a mistake for Republicans, too.