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If you want to decarbonize concrete, it helps to understand the incredible scale of the problem.

To say that concrete poses a decarbonization challenge would be an understatement. Cement production alone is responsible for somewhere between 5 and 10% of global CO2 emissions [0], roughly two to four times more than aviation, a fact that even the construction industry is finally coming to grips with.
And yet the real problem with decarbonizing concrete isn’t the scale of its emissions, it’s the scale of concrete itself. There is simply a preposterous amount of the stuff. Contemplating concrete is like contemplating the universe — awesome, in the old God-fearing definition of the word.
Before we get into the jaw-dropping amount of concrete we produce every year, it’s worth briefly discussing how the stuff is made, and thus where its emissions come from.
Concrete is formed by mixing together cement (mostly calcium silicates), aggregates (such as sand and gravel), and water into a liquid slurry. The cement reacts with the water, forming a paste that binds the mixture into a single solid mass. Beyond concrete’s high strength and low cost, it’s these liquid beginnings that make concrete so useful. It can easily be formed into any shape and leveled with the help of gravity so you can walk on it or park a car 10 stories up on it. Essentially all modern concrete is also reinforced with steel bars, which provide tensile strength and arrest cracks.
So what about the emissions? Roughly 70-90% of the embodied carbon in concrete comes from manufacturing just the cement [1]. Partly this is because making cement is an energy-intensive process — limestone and clay are put into a kiln and heated around 2500 degrees Fahrenheit. But it’s also because the chemical reaction that turns the limestone into cement (known as calcination) releases CO₂ as a byproduct. Roughly 50-60% of cement’s carbon emissions are due to calcination [2], and thus wouldn’t be addressed by moving to less carbon-intensive electricity sources, like green hydrogen.
Now for the good stuff. Again, the most important thing to understand about concrete is the scale of its production. The world produces somewhere around 4.25 billion metric tons of cement annually (though estimates vary) [3], which works out to about 30 billion tons of concrete produced each year [4].
How much are 30 billion tons?
One way of looking at it is we produce around 4 metric tons, or just under 60 cubic feet (roughly a cube 4 feet on a side), of concrete for each person on the planet each year.
Another way of looking at it is to consider the total amount of mass, full stop, that civilization ingests each year. Estimates here vary quite a bit, but it seems to be in the neighborhood of 100 billion tons [5]. So of the total volume of material that gets extracted and used each year — including all mining, all oil drilling, all agriculture and tree harvesting — around 30% of it by mass goes toward making concrete. The amount of concrete produced each year exceeds the weight of all the biomass we use annually, and all the fossil fuels we use annually.
Total civilization annual material extraction, via Krausmann et al 2018. This is up to 2015, and has now exceeded over 90 Gt/year, with another ~8 Gt/year of recycled material.
Another way of looking at it is that the total mass of all plants on Earth is around 900 billion metric tons. So at current rates of production, it would take about 30 years to produce enough concrete to exceed all the Earth’s plant (dry) biomass.
Because humans have been producing concrete for a while, and because concrete tends to last a long time, we seem to be on the cusp of this happening. Elhacham et al 2020 estimate that total human-created mass (roughly half of which is concrete) reached the total weight of all Earth’s biomass sometime in 2020. Eyeballing their graph, concrete alone will exceed the total weight of all biomass sometime around 2040.
Anthropogenic mass vs biomass during the 20th century, via Elhacham et al 2020
In a pure mass-flow sense, human civilization is basically a machine for producing concrete and gravel (and to a lesser extent bricks and asphalt).
So civilization uses a lot of concrete. Where is it all going?
China, mostly. In recent history, China has been responsible for roughly half the world’s cement production, and by implication, concrete use [6]. The U.S., by comparison, only uses 2%, with Europe using another 5%.
Cement production by region, via Sanjuan et al 2020. Since cement production roughly tracks consumption (see here and here), we can also use this as a rough guide toward where concrete is used. Note that this gives yet another value for total global cement production of 4.65 Gt
Here’s another view from around 2010, showing what this has looked like over time (data after 2010 is a projection).
Cement consumption by region, via Altwair 2010
This gets summarized in the oft-repeated statistic that China used more cement in three years than the U.S. did in the entire 20th century.
But since China has a much larger population than the U.S., we can get a more intuitive understanding of this by looking at cement consumption per capita. Here’s per capita consumption sometime around 2015:
Per capita cement consumption by country, via Globbulk
We see that the official numbers from China make it a huge outlier in cement consumption, using around eight times as much per capita as the U.S. However, in per capita terms, some Middle Eastern countries exceed it. Saudi Arabia is higher, and Qatar, which is somewhere over 2,000 kg/capita, is so high it doesn’t even show up on the graph. It’s the combination of China’s huge population and its huge per-capita consumption that make it such an outlier in concrete production.
The official Chinese numbers are so huge, in fact, that some analysts suspect that they’re inflated, either by manipulating the data or by producing construction projects that don’t have actual demand (or both). The graph above also includes a more “realistic” estimate (which is still 3x as high as U.S. per-capita use).
What does all this concrete construction mean in practical terms? Well, China has somewhere around 50-60% of the floor space per capita as the U.S. does, or roughly as much living space per capita as most European countries [7]. This is the result of a massive trend toward urbanization over the last quarter century. Urbanization rates went from around 25% in 1990 to 60% in 2017, a period in which China’s population also increased by 250 million. In other words, in less than 30 years over 550 million moved into Chinese cities, and they all needed somewhere to live. By building enormous numbers of concrete high rises, in under 20 years China quintupled its urban residential floor space and doubled its residential floor space overall.
Residential floor space in China over time, via Pan 2020
Beyond China, we see high per capita rates of cement use in the rest of Southeast Asia, as well as the Middle East [8].
One reason you see this volume of concrete use in lower-income, urbanizing countries is that concrete construction is comparatively labor-intensive to produce. The materials for concrete are extremely cheap, and much of its cost in high-cost labor countries (such as the U.S.) is from the labor to produce it — building and setting up the formwork, laying out the reinforcing, placing the embeds, etc. If you’re a country with a lot of low-cost labor, this is a pretty good trade-off.
In addition to the current largest users of concrete, one trend to keep an eye on long-term is India’s concrete use. If India ever proceeds on a path of mass urbanization similar to China (as some folks speculate it will), we could see a massive uptick in global concrete output — India’s urbanization rate of 34% is around where China was in the late 1990s. A shift in India toward a per capita cement consumption more consistent with the rest of Southeast Asia (say around 600 kg/capita) would increase worldwide cement consumption by about 13%, and it does seem as if India’s cement use is trending upward.
By contrast, one thing clear from this data is that the U.S. actually uses an unusually low amount of concrete. Per capita, it uses as little as any other Western country, and far, far less than some — like, surprisingly, Belgium.
So we’ve seen where it gets used in the world. Can we go deeper and look at specifically what concrete is being used for?
This will vary significantly depending on the region and the local construction tradition. In the U.S., we have roughly the following breakdown (via the Portland Cement Association):
Overall, roughly half of our concrete gets used in buildings — about 26% goes into residential buildings, 2% in public buildings, and 16% into commercial buildings. The other half gets used for infrastructure — streets and highways, water conveyance and treatment tanks, etc. Because most construction in the U.S. is just one- or two-story buildings (mostly wood for residential buildings and steel for commercial ones), concrete in buildings is probably mostly going into foundations, slabs on grade, and concrete over metal deck, though there’s probably a substantial amount going into concrete masonry units as well.
But the U.S. has a somewhat unusual construction tradition, where the vast majority of our residential construction, both single-family homes and multifamily apartments, is built from light-framed wood. In other places, it's much more common to use concrete. For instance, the U.K. uses closer to 80% of its concrete for buildings, with most of that going toward the superstructure, the concrete frame that holds the building up. China, which has urbanized on the back of huge numbers of concrete residential high rises, probably devotes an even larger share of its concrete to residential construction.
Understanding how much concrete the world uses, and where it’s being used, is important if you want to use less of it.
The scale of the industry is particularly important to keep in mind. For instance, you often see enthusiasm for the idea of replacing concrete buildings with mass timber ones. But assuming you could substitute all the world’s concrete for an equal volume of wood [9], you’d need to more than triple the total annual volume of global wood harvested [10], which puts a somewhat different spin on the issue.
Most other materials would have emissions as bad or worse than concrete if they were used on the same scale.
Consider, for instance, railway ties. In the U.S., these are still largely made out of wood, but in many places they have been replaced with concrete ties. And some places are considering changing from concrete ties to plastic composite rail ties instead. It’s hard to know the exact embodied emissions without a lot of specific details about the materials and supply chains used, but can we ballpark how much a plastic tie uses compared to a concrete one?
Per the Inventory of Carbon and Energy database, concrete varies between 150 and 400 kg of embodied CO2 per cubic meter, depending on the properties of the mix, with an “average” value of about 250. Plastics mostly have embodied emissions of about 3-4 kg of CO2 per kg of plastic, or about 3,500 kg per cubic meter (assuming a density of about 1,000 kg per cubic meter). So per unit volume, plastic has somewhere around 10 times the embodied emissions of concrete.
We can also do a more direct comparison. Consider a beam spanning around 20 feet and supporting a vertical load of 21,000 pounds per linear foot. The lightest U.S. standard steel section that will span this distance is a W16x26, which weighs about 236 kg and will have embodied carbon emissions of around 354 kg.
A concrete beam of the same depth, supporting the same load and spanning the same distance, will be 10.5 inches wide by 16 inches deep, with three #10 steel bars running along the bottom. This beam will have about 190 kg of embodied emissions from the concrete, and about another 230 kg of embodied emissions from the steel rebar. This is about 20% more than the steel beam, but in the same ballpark — and over half the “concrete” emissions are actually due to the embedded reinforcing steel.
This is arguably a nonrepresentative example (most concrete, such as in columns or slabs, will have a much lower ratio of steel), but the basic logic holds: Concrete is unusual in its total volume of use, not how emissions-heavy it is as a material. Most material substitutes that aren’t wood, recycled materials, or industrial byproducts that can be had for “free” won’t necessarily be much better when used at the same scale. In some ways, it’s surprising that the carbon emissions from concrete are as low as they are.
Of course, this calculus is likely to change over time — as electricity sources change over to lower carbon ones, you’re likely to see the embodied emissions of materials drop along with it. And since cement releases CO2 as part of the chemical process of producing it, concrete will look increasingly worse compared to other materials over time.
One potential option is to find ways of changing the cement production process to be less carbon-intensive. The easiest option is to just replace manufactured Portland Cement with some other cementitious material. Industrial byproducts such as blast furnace slag, silica fume, and fly ash, often have cementitious properties and don’t have a “carbon penalty” (since they’d be produced regardless.) Materials like these can potentially eliminate large volumes of cement in a concrete mix, and they’re a key part of current low-carbon concrete strategies — even “normal” concrete mixes tend to utilize these to some degree. But the total volume of these materials is limited by the extent of various industrial processes. And for things like fly ash (which is a byproduct from coal plants) and slag (which is a byproduct from CO2-emitting blast furnaces), we can expect production to decline over time.
Another option is to take advantage of the fact that concrete will naturally absorb CO2 over time, a process known as carbonation. Even normal concrete will absorb roughly 30% of the CO2 emitted during the production process over the course of its life. Companies like Carbicrete, Carboncure, Carbonbuilt, and Solida all offer methods of concrete production that allow the concrete to absorb CO₂ during the production process, substantially reducing embodied emissions. Interestingly, these producers mostly claim that their concrete is actually cheaper than conventional concretes, which would obviously be a massive tailwind for the technology’s adoption.
It’s not obvious what the best path forward is for addressing concrete carbon emissions (like with most things, I suspect it’ll end up being a mix of different solutions), but understanding the parameters of the problem is necessary for solving it.
Note: A version of this article originally appeared in the author’s newsletter, Construction Physics, and has been repurposed for Heatmap.
[0] - This figure varies depending on the source. Chatham House provides a frequently cited estimate of 8%. We can also ballpark it — roughly 0.93 pounds of CO₂ gets emitted for each pound of cement produced, around 4.25 billion tons of cement are produced annually, which gets ~3.95 billion tons of CO₂, and total annual CO₂ emissions are in the neighborhood of 46 billion tons, getting us a bit less than 9%.
[1] - Per Circular Ecology, ~70-90% of emissions are from the cement production process, depending on the type of concrete and what the rest of the supply chain looks like.
[2] - This seems to vary depending on where the cement is being made — in Myanmar, for instance, it’s around 46%.
[3] - Another number where the sources often don’t agree with each other, see here, here, and here for estimates on annual cement production.
[4] - Concrete is roughly 10-15% cement by weight, depending on the strength of the mix, what other cementitious materials are being used, etc. An average value of 12.5% yields 34 billion tons, which we’ll knock down to account for other uses of cement (masonry mortar, grout, gypsum overlay, etc.) This roughly tracks with estimates from PCA (“4 tons of concrete produced each year for every person on Earth”), and from the now-defunct Cement Sustainability Initiative, which estimated 25 billion tons of concrete against 3.125 billion tons of cement in 2015.
[5] - See here, here, and here for an estimate of total civilization mass flow. This doesn’t (I believe) include waste byproducts, which can be substantial — for instance, it doesn’t include the ~46 billion tons of CO₂ emitted each year, or the 16 billion tons of mine tailings, or the 140 billion tons of agriculture byproducts (though this last number is difficult to verify and seems high).
[6] - We see something similar with cement as we do with other bulky, low-value materials, in that it's made in lots of distributed manufacturing facilities relatively close to where it’s used. See here for a map of cement plants in the U.S. around 2001, for instance.
[7] - For China’s total floor space, see here (most sources seem to agree with these numbers). For U.S. floor space, see my Every Building In America article. For per-capita living space in Europe, see here.
[8] - The often high rates of cement use by middle-income countries have led some folks to develop a U-shaped cement consumption theory of industrial development — that countries start out using a small amount of cement, use more as they get richer and build up their physical infrastructure, and then eventually transition to using lower volumes of cement again. The Globbulk paper spends considerable time debunking this.
[9] - It’s not actually obvious to me what the substitution ratio would be. In strength-governed cases, you’d need proportionally more timber than concrete, but in other cases (such as replacing concrete walls with light-framed stud walls), you’d probably use less. Obviously, you can’t substitute all concrete for wood, but you can probably switch out more than you think — there’s no reason you couldn’t use wood foundations instead of concrete ones in many cases, for instance.
[10] - 30 billion tons of concrete is roughly 12.5 billion cubic meters, and total annual wood products produced is currently around 5.5 billion cubic meters.
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Alternative proteins have floundered in the U.S., but investors are leaning in elsewhere.
Vegans and vegetarians rejoiced throughout the 2010s as food scientists got better and better at engineering plant and fungi-based proteins to mimic the texture, taste, and look of meat. Tests showed that even some meat enthusiasts couldn’t tell the difference. By the end of the decade, “fake meat” was booming. Burger King added it to the menu. Investment in the sector topped out at $5.6 billion in 2021.
Those heady days are now over — at least in the U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. champions a “carnivore diet,” price-conscious Americans are prioritizing affordable calories, and many consumers insist the real thing still simply tastes better. Investment in alternative proteins has fallen each year since 2021, with the industry raising a comparably meager $881 million in 2025.
In China, however, the industry is just starting to pick up steam. Early-stage startups have been popping up ever since the country’s Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs included “future foods” such as lab-grown meat and plant-based eggs in its 2021 – 2025 five-year plan, indicating that these modern proteins will play a role in helping to secure the country’s domestic food supply chain.
“26% of the world’s meat is consumed by China, and about 50% of the world’s seafood,” Albert Tseng, co-founder of the venture firm Dao Foods, which backs Chinese companies developing climate-friendly proteins, told me. And yet the average Chinese consumer still only eats about half as much meat as the typical American, meaning that as the country gets richer, those numbers are only poised to grow. “The history of the world is essentially that as incomes rise, demand for protein also rises,” Tseng said.
But letting the protein patterns of the past dictate the future will have serious implications for the climate. Livestock production accounts for roughly 14% to 18% of global greenhouse gas emissions from things like methane releases and land-use changes. Yet it can seem unthinkable for many consumers to cut back on the foods they love, which is why some of the alternate protein sector’s most well-known companies are aiming to replicate the taste, look, and feel of meat.
That strategy isn’t going to fly in China though, Tseng told me. His goal is to slowly woo Chinese consumers away from meat and dairy with alluring plant-based, fungi-based, and lab-grown alternatives — ideally without customers even realizing what’s happening. For example, one of Dao’s portfolio companies, ZhongGu Mycelium, embeds the “superfood” mycelium — the root-like structure of fungi — into flour, boosting the protein-content and nutritional value of everyday products like dumplings and buns.
“We’re trying to actually crowd out demand for other proteins by infusing staple foods with the superfood ingredients that are more familiar, but also satiate people and provide the nutrition they need,” Tseng explained.
Tseng, a Canadian of Chinese descent, founded Dao Foods in 2018, with the idea that a regionally focused platform would allow him and his portfolio companies to develop deeper insights into the Chinese consumer. One lesson so far: In China, highlighting the health benefits and novelty of new proteins in their own right tends to resonate more than replicating the experience of eating meat or dairy. Dao Foods’ portfolio companies are making everything from coconut milk tea to rice proteins and plant-based hot pot broth — products designed to fit seamlessly into the country’s existing culinary culture without necessarily taking the place of meat.
“Direct replacement is probably not a sound commercial pathway,” Tseng said. Designer proteins command a higher price and are thus largely enjoyed by people explicitly trying to reduce their meat intake, whether for climate, health, or animal welfare reasons. But that conscious consumer segment concerned about the environment or animal rights is essentially nonexistent in China, Tseng told me. Rather, meat is viewed as a sign of status for the country’s growing upper and middle classes.
That cultural mismatch may be part of the reason Beyond Meat floundered when it entered China amidst the COVID lockdowns of 2020, a year after going public with a nearly $4 billion valuation. It finally exited the market early last year, and today its market capitalization is less than $400 million — a roughly 90% decline. Impossible Foods has long planned to launch in China too — the founder told Bloomberg in 2019 that it was “the most important country for our mission” — but that has yet to happen. Impossible CEO Peter McGuinness said last summer that the company was still years away from profitability.
China definitely hasn’t given up on the sector yet — it’s barely even gotten started. The country is now in the process of finalizing its five-year plan for 2026 – 2030, and “future foods” are expected to remain a part of the roadmap. Tseng noted that local mayors who implement the national government’s dictates are already competing to attract alternative protein companies to their regions, betting they’ll become drivers of regional GDP just as solar panel and electric vehicle manufacturers have been. “We’ve moved two or three companies now from one region of China to another because they’ve been interested in developing an area of expertise in sustainable food or future foods,” he told me.
So far, these regional enticements have largely come in the form of non-cash incentives. For example, ZhongGu Mycelium, is moving from Mongolia to the Western China municipality of Chengdu, where it will establish a new mycelium research and development facility and production hub. The move was a no-brainer given that “they were being offered a new factory space predominantly rent free for the first three years,” Tseng told me. Not only that, but the local government is “connecting them with the local business environment and food companies in that area. They’re providing some tax incentives, and they’re providing connections to the local university for research support.”
The U.S. can’t offer this level of state support even in the best of times. And with the current meat-loving administration in office, the likelihood of the alternative proteins market receiving any degree of federal backing is essentially nil. We simply aren’t hearing much these days from some names that were making waves just five years ago.
“A lot of these companies were ahead of consumer demand,” Kim Odhner, the co-founder of the sustainable food venture firm Unovis Asset Management, told me. When he started Unovis in 2018, companies such as Impossible Foods and Beyond Meat — an early Unovis investment — were gaining serious momentum. The firm has thus far weathered the downturn with its broad portfolio of meat and dairy alternatives — which includes an investment in Dao Foods, where it serves as a founding partner and shareholder. But as Odhner told me, “One of the most important lessons is that the whole build it and they will come mentality is very dangerous.” Many of the sector’s anticipated customers — in the U.S. and Europe at least — have yet to show up.
As Odhner prepares to raise a third fund with Unovis, he’s focusing on supporting growth-stage startups with proven technologies and minimal regulatory risk. That mainly includes businesses producing protein-rich ingredients for established food companies to incorporate into their existing product lines. It would be “very difficult,” he told me, for Unovis to raise money for an early-stage alternative protein fund today.
Like Tseng, Odhner thinks the best approach for the industry is to make inroads at the margins. “I don’t see any time in the near future — even in the distant future — where we’re going to be replacing center-of-the-plate steak with a cultivated meat equivalent,” Odhner told me.
Either way, Tseng and Odhner agree that there’s still real potential — and real money — in the sector. In China at least, Tseng thinks alternative proteins could follow in the footsteps of other clean energy industries such as solar panel and EVs that have taken root in the country despite many of their breakthrough innovations originating elsewhere. Drawing a parallel to the rise of Chinese EVs, he said that while outsiders perceived the industry as taking off overnight, its growth was actually a decades-long journey marked by plenty of missteps.
“But then at some point, it hit a tipping point,” Tseng told me. “And then the Chinese government signaled, investors poured in and supported these companies, and then you get BYD.”
Except for those related to the FIFA World Cup.
The Federal Emergency Management Agency has suspended all of its training and education programs for emergency managers across the country — except for those “directly supporting the 2026 FIFA World Cup.”
FEMA’s National Training and Education Division offers nearly 300 courses for local first responders and emergency managers, while FEMA’s National Disaster and Emergency Management University (formerly called the Emergency Management Institute) acts as the central training organization for emergency management in the United States. Since funding for the Department of Homeland Security lapsed on February 14, FEMA has instructed NTED partners to “cease course delivery operations,” according to communication reviewed by Heatmap. The NDEMU website and independent study materials have also been taken down.
The decision to remove NDEMU materials and freeze NTED courses not related to the World Cup has left emergency management students around the country in the lurch, with some just a few credits shy of certifications that would allow them to seek jobs. Mid-career employees have likewise been unable to meet their continuing training requirements, with courses pending “rescheduling” at a later date.
In states like California, where all public employees are sworn in as disaster service workers, jurisdictions have been left without the resources to train their employees. Additionally, certain preparedness grants require proof that emergency departments are compliant with frameworks such as the National Incident Management System and the Incident Command System. “The federal government says we need to be compliant with this, and they give us a way to do that, and then they take it away,” Laura Maskell, the emergency training and exercise coordinator for the city of San Jose, told me.
Depending on how long the DHS shutdown lasts, the training freeze is likely to exacerbate already dire staffing shortages at many municipal offices around the country. Emergency managers often juggle multiple jobs, ranging from local hazard and mitigation planning to public communication and IT. They also serve as the point people for everything from cybersecurity attacks to spectator safety to extreme-weather disaster response, and staying up to date on the latest procedures and technologies is critical enough to require ongoing education to maintain certification.
Training can be extensive. Becoming a certified emergency manager requires 100 hours of general management and 100 hours of emergency management courses — many of which students complete independently, online, while working other jobs — nearly all of which are currently suspended. The courses are utilized by many other first responders and law enforcement groups, too, from firefighters to university campus safety officers.
Emergency management officials and students I spoke with told me they see FEMA’s decision as capricious — “an intentional choice the government has made to further disrupt emergency management,” as a student who wanted to remain anonymous to protect their FEMA-funded employer from backlash told me — given that FEMA materials were not removed or trainings canceled during previous shutdowns. (Materials were unavailable during the most recent full-government shutdown in 2025.) In the past, FEMA has processed certifications once its offices have reopened; the exception for World Cup-related training adds to the feeling that the decision to remove materials is punitive.
“My understanding is these websites are pretty low maintenance,” Maskell said. She added, “Outside of a specific review cycle, I was not aware that there was any active maintenance or upkeep on these websites. So for them to take these down, allegedly because of the DHS shutdown, that doesn’t make sense to me.”
San Jose’s 6,800 city employees are required to take two to four designated FEMA courses, which Maskell said her team no longer has access to. “We don’t have another way” to train employees “that is readily available to get them that information in a cost-effective, standardized, most importantly up-to-the-federal-requirements way,” she added. Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, which falls within San Jose’s jurisdiction, is a World Cup site, and Maskell confirmed that in-person training specific to sports and special events has proceeded uninterrupted.
Depriving emergency managers and first responders of training seems at odds with the safe streets emphasis of the Trump administration. But FEMA has been in crisis since the DOGE cuts of early 2025, which were executed by a series of administrators who believe the agency shouldn’t exist; another 10,000 employees may be cut this spring. (Sure to deepen the chaos at the agency, Trump fired Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem earlier Thursday. FEMA did not respond to a request for comment on this story.) The White House says it wants to shift responsibility for disaster planning and response back to the states — a goal that nevertheless underscores the importance of keeping training and resources accessible, even if the website isn’t being actively updated during the DHS shutdown.
Trainings that remain caught up in the politics of the shutdown include courses at the Center for Homeland Defense and Security, the Rural Domestic Preparedness Consortium, and others. The National Domestic Preparedness Consortium, which is also affected, offers training for extreme weather disasters — education that is especially critical heading into flood and tornado season, with wildfire and hurricane season around the corner. Courses like the National Disaster Preparedness Training Center’s offering of “Evacuation Planning Strategies and Solutions” in San Francisco, one of the World Cup host cities, fall under the exemption and are expected to be held as planned.
Noem had blamed Democrats for holding up $625 million in FEMA grants for FIFA World Cup host cities, funds that would go toward security and planning. Democrats have pushed back on that line, pointing out that World Cup security funding was approved last summer and the agency missed the anticipated January award date for the grant program ahead of the DHS shutdown. Democrats have said they will not fund the department until they reach an agreement on Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s use of deadly force and detention against U.S. citizens and migrant communities. (The House is scheduled to vote Thursday afternoon on a potential DHS funding package; a scheduled Senate vote earlier in the day failed to advance.)
The federal government estimates that as many as 10 million international visitors will travel to the U.S. for the World Cup, which begins in 98 days. “Training and education scheduled for the 11 U.S. World Cup host cities,” the DHS told its partners, “will continue as planned.”
The administration has begun shuffling projects forward as court challenges against the freeze heat up.
The Trump administration really wants you to think it’s thawing the freeze on renewable energy projects. Whether this is a genuine face turn or a play to curry favor with the courts and Congress, however, is less clear.
In the face of pressures such as surging energy demand from artificial intelligence and lobbying from prominent figures on the right, including the wife of Trump’s deputy chief of staff, the Bureau of Land Management has unlocked environmental permitting processes in recent weeks for a substantial number of renewable energy projects. Public documents, media reports, and official agency correspondence with stakeholders on the ground all show projects that had ground to a halt now lurching forward.
What has gone relatively unnoticed in all this is that the Trump administration has used this momentum to argue against a lawsuit filed by renewable energy groups challenging Trump’s permitting freeze. In January, for instance, Heatmap was first to report that the administration had lifted its ban on eagle take permits for wind projects. As we predicted at the time, after easing that restriction, Trump’s Justice Department has argued that the judge in the permitting freeze case should reject calls for an injunction. “Arguments against the so-called Eagle Permit Ban are perhaps the easiest to reject. [The Fish and Wildlife Service] has lifted the temporary pause on the issuance of Eagle take permits,” DOJ lawyers argued in a legal brief in February.
On February 26, E&E News first reported on Interior’s permitting freeze melting, citing three unnamed career agency officials who said that “at least 20 commercial-scale” solar projects would advance forward. Those projects include each of the seven segments of the Esmeralda mega-project that Heatmap was first to report was killed last fall. E&E News also reported that Jove Solar in Arizona, the Redonda and Bajada solar projects in California and three Nevada solar projects – Boulder Solar III, Dry Lake East and Libra Solar – will proceed in some fashion. Libra Solar received its final environmental approval in December but hasn’t gotten its formal right-of-way for construction.
Since then, Heatmap has learned of four other projects on the list, all in Nevada: Mosey Energy Center, Kawich Energy Center, Purple Sage Energy Center and Rock Valley Energy Center.
Things also seem to be moving on the transmission front in ways that will benefit solar. BLM posted the final environmental impact statement for upgrades to NextEra’s GridLance West transmission project in Nevada, which is expected to connect to solar facilities. And NV Energy’s Greenlink North transmission line is now scheduled to receive a final federal decision in June.
On wind, the administration silently advanced the Lucky Star transmission line in Wyoming, which we’ve covered as a bellwether for the state of the permitting process. We were first to report that BLM sent local officials in Wyoming a draft environmental review document a year ago signaling that the transmission line would be approved — then the whole thing inexplicably ground to a halt. Now things are moving forward again. In early February, BLM posted the final environmental review for Lucky Star online without any public notice or press release.
There are certainly reasons why Trump would allow renewables development to move forward at this juncture.
The president is under incredible pressure to get as much energy as possible onto the electric grid to power AI data centers without causing undue harm to consumers’ pocketbooks. According to the Wall Street Journal, the oil industry is urging him to move renewables permitting forward so Democrats come back to the table on a permitting deal.
Then there’s the MAGAverse’s sudden love affair with solar energy. Katie Miller, wife of White House deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller, has suddenly become a pro-solar advocate at the same time as a PR campaign funded by members of American Clean Power claims to be doing paid media partnerships with her. (Miller has denied being paid by ACP or the campaign.) Former Trump senior adviser Kellyanne Conway is now touting polls about solar’s popularity for “energy security” reasons, and Trump pollster Tony Fabrizio just dropped a First Solar-funded survey showing that roughly half of Trump voters support solar farms.
This timing is also conspicuously coincidental. One day before the E&E News story, the Justice Department was granted an extension until March 16 to file updated rebuttals in the freeze case before any oral arguments or rulings on injunctions. In other court filings submitted by the Justice Department, BLM career staff acknowledge they’ve met with people behind multiple solar projects referenced in the lawsuit since it was filed. It wouldn’t be surprising if a big set of solar projects got their permitting process unlocked right around that March 16 deadline.
Kevin Emmerich, co-founder of Western environmental group Basin & Range Watch, told me it’s important to recognize that not all of these projects are getting final approvals; some of this stuff is more piecemeal or procedural. As an advocate who wants more responsible stewardship of public lands and is opposed to lots of this, Emmerich is actually quite troubled by the way Trump is going back on the pause. That is especially true after the Supreme Court’s 2025 ruling in the Seven Counties case, which limited the scope of environmental reviews, not to mention Trump-era changes in regulation and agency leadership.
“They put a lot of scrutiny on these projects, and for a while there we didn’t think they were going to move, period,” Emmerich told me. “We’re actually a little bit bummed out about this because some of these we identified as having really big environmental impacts. We’re seeing this as a perfect storm for those of us worried about public land being taken over by energy because the weakening of NEPA is going to be good for a lot of these people, a lot of these developers.”
BLM would not tell me why this thaw is happening now. When reached for comment, the agency replied with an unsigned statement that the Interior Department “is actively reviewing permitting for large-scale onshore solar projects” through a “comprehensive” process with “consistent standards” – an allusion to the web of review criteria renewable energy developers called a de facto freeze on permits. “This comprehensive review process ensures that projects — whether on federal, state, or private lands — receive appropriate oversight whenever federal resources, permits, or consultations are involved.”