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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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The industry has gotten excited before, to no avail. Will it stick this time?
Over a decade ago, when the global price of silicon-based photovoltaic modules was roughly five times what it is today, the solar industry and media were already hyping up the next big thing: perovskites, a class of materials defined by their specific cube-like crystal structure. The technology promised to boost photovoltaic efficiency while driving down costs, and the industry was atwitter.
“All the cool solar-cell scientists are working on perovskites photovoltaics,” IEEE Spectrum proclaimed in a 2014 article. In the same piece, Oxford Photovoltaics predicted that it would have commercially available cells within four years. The Wall Street Journal profiled the tech that same year, and in 2015, The Guardian declared that perovskites could be “game changing.” The excitement centered around the potential for higher output at lower costs: Perovskite cells were seeing rapid efficiency gains, could be made from cheap materials, and were remarkably thin and lightweight. When the question of durability came up, it was often as an afterthought. But that has turned out to be the technology’s biggest obstacle.
“What the industry came to understand very quickly is that, yes, you could see higher efficiency, but that material is going to degrade pretty quickly,” Laureen Sanderson, chief communication officer at the perovskite startup Cubic PV, told me. “A lot of the efficiency records that you were seeing were records that were achieved on very small scale devices in a laboratory environment, potentially measured in the dark.” Not ideal for a technology designed to soak up the sun on a large scale.
It’s true that perovskite cells tend to break down rapidly on contact with moisture, heat, and light, a problem scientists have been slowly chipping away at in the lab. That fragility largely arises because perovskites are made of electrically charged ions held together mostly by the attraction between positive and negative charges, much like magnets snapping together. That’s an intrinsically looser structure than the covalent bonds in silicon, which fuse the atoms together via shared electrons. As a result, the ions in perovskites migrate when exposed to the elements, accumulating in places where they react with surrounding materials to form unwanted byproducts that gradually break down the cell’s structure.
But while durability has been its fatal flaw, efficiency is perovskite’s superpower. Silicon’s efficiency tops out at 29.4%, a fundamental physics limitation that no amount of engineering can overcome. But because perovskites can be tuned to absorb different wavelengths of light beyond what silicon can capture, stacking a thin perovskite cell atop a conventional silicon cell lets the combined device make use of more sunlight than either material could alone. In July, one of these silicon-perovskite tandem cells — the industry’s dominant architecture — set a new 35.5% efficiency record.
So while this new tech still doesn’t match the stability of conventional panels, it’s getting much better. Tandem cells hold up increasingly well when exposed to heat, light, and moisture in the lab, and early outdoor trials are starting to produce promising real-world performance data. With headlines about perovskites starting to roll in once more, scientists say there’s good reason to believe that, this time around, the hype might actually be justified.
“Over the better part of a decade, there’s been lots of, for want of a better word, device engineering to engineer the material to just be much more stable,” Sam Stranks, an energy materials professor at the University of Cambridge and co-founder of perovskite startup Swift Solar, told me. That includes swapping out an unstable chemical building block in perovskites called methylammonium with a more stable one called formamidinium, improving the connection point that binds the perovskite layer to the electrode layer, and improving the packaging of perovskite cells to seal them off from air and moisture.
“There’s still work to be done to really get it to the point where you could put it up on a rooftop for 25 years and you know it will last. But the trajectory is very promising,” Stranks said.
Scientists have managed to extend perovskite durability from mere hours to the point where cells and modules are now passing industry-standard tests that suggest they could survive outdoors for five to 10 years. That’s still a ways away from the standard 25-year warranties for silicon solar panels, which typically guarantee that a module will retain 85% to 90% of its original output by year 25. And because these latest perovskites simply haven’t been around that long, scientists have yet to test these more ambitious durability claims in the real world.
Industry experts say there’s no reason continued incremental improvements can’t get perovskites to that 25-year standard relatively soon, however. “If you look at silicon, it’s been 70 years of trial and error,” Scott Wharton, CEO of perovskite startup Tandem PV, told me. “Seventy years of constant tweaking and improvement, whereas perovskites have only had about 12.”
Wharton said that Tandem’s testing indicates its panels will degrade at a rate of less than 1% per year. Furthermore, he predicts perovskites will become the dominant solar technology by 2033, a more ambitious timeline than others in the industry typically project. But as he sees it, seven years is roughly enough time to build and deploy two generations of perovskite factories — the kind of iterative ramp-up he says new technologies typically need to achieve market dominance.
The economics just make sense, he told me. Because perovskites are more efficient, they will produce more power per unit — which means less land, hardware, wiring, and labor needed to achieve the same total energy output, driving down costs at every step of the process. Why wouldn’t everyone jump onboard immediately? “All of our customers have said that once we’ve proven it out, they’re going to move,” Wharton told me. “They’re going to move 100% to tandems because of the power of the efficiency gains.”
Others are somewhat more measured regarding how long this may take. Stranks predicted it would be about five years before perovskites with multi-decade warranties even begin hitting the market, while Sanderson estimated they’ll gain real commercial traction by 2029, with perovskites making up a “significant portion of the market” throughout the 2030s.
While the date of that tipping point remains up for debate, the industry appears to have largely settled the question of materials. At least for now, the preferred configuration is to pair a lead-based perovskite cell with silicon rather than build an all-perovskite cell, which would likely face even greater durability challenges. That’s because such a cell would also need a tin-based perovskite layer to capture lower-energy light like silicon does, but tin degrades even faster than lead. In other words, it’s easier to keep silicon — a proven, durable material — in the mix by building so-called “tandem cells” for the foreseeable future.
But there’s still plenty that remains unknown. Every startup’s exact chemistry is proprietary, and there’s no clearly dominant formula yet. There’s also no industry consensus on the architecture best poised to address perovskite’s stability challenge, either, with leading players typically taking one of two different approaches.
Stranks’ Swift Solar team is pursuing what’s known as a “two-terminal” tandem architecture, in which a manufacturer builds the perovskite layer directly on top of the silicon layer, with the two cells functioning as a single unit. That’s opposed to a “four-terminal” design, where companies build two independent perovskite and silicon cells and then mechanically stack them on top of each other rather than fusing them together.
Two-terminal is the more widely studied approach, pursued by other industry leaders such as Oxford PV — the same company that once predicted commercialization by 2018 — along with Chinese solar giants LONGi and JinkoSolar. Proponents argue that using fewer material layers means less light lost, which translates into greater efficiency and lower costs. In a blog post last year, Swift Solar’s team also argued that the four-terminal designs rely on laser cutting, which it says can create more entry points for degradation.
Two-terminal isn’t just the leading theoretical contender, it’s the first architecture to officially make it to market. Oxford PV’s finally executed its long-delayed commercial launch in 2024, shipping its modules to an undisclosed U.S. customer for use in a utility-scale solar project. It was the world’s first commercial sale of perovskite panels, which Oxford claimed could produce up to 20% more energy than standard silicon modules.
But newer market entrants such as Cubic PV and Tandem PV are bullish on the four-terminal approach. For one, while two-terminal designs use fewer materials, they are more difficult to manufacture. Building a perovskite layer directly onto silicon’s rough surface is more technically difficult than coating it onto smooth glass, as Cubic and Tandem do. And because four-terminal companies manufacture the perovskite and silicon cells separately, they can swap in whatever silicon cell is cheapest or most efficient at any given moment, rather than being locked into a single supplier’s tech.
That flexibility could prove important as the market moves beyond early adopters. For now, Stranks said, customers buying tandem modules are probably doing so for strategic testing purposes — placing small, one-off orders to trial the tech themselves. An installer today can’t simply go buy perovskites on the open market by consulting a public pricing list or product catalogue the way they can with silicon panels. “But it’s not too far away before that would be the case,” he explained.
For its part, Swift is moving … swiftly, acquiring the manufacturing assets and IP of the bankrupt Swiss silicon cell maker Meyer Burger this spring. The company plans to use those assets first to build a U.S.-based gigawatt-scale silicon cell and module factory to meet demand for domestically manufactured solar cells, eventually adding silicon-perovskite tandem module production to that same facility.
Tandem PV is also pushing ahead with plans to begin selling to customers by the end of this year “in a volume that would be big enough to hit bankability goals,” Wharton told me. It also plans to bring a gigawatt-scale factory online by 2028. The company is targeting the independent power producers who build, own, and operate most utility-scale solar projects today. And like Oxford, Swift, and Cubic, Tandem is focused primarily on the utility-scale solar market — by far the biggest opportunity for perovskite technology.
Cubic scrapped plans in 2024 to build a facility producing silicon wafers — the raw material used to make solar cells — amid collapsing wafer prices globally and surging construction costs domestically. While Sanderson says the company remains interested in building its own factory, it has no timeline for doing so. But in the meantime, it’s also interested in licensing its IP to other perovskite companies.
The outlook for domestic wafer production has improved in recent years, though, after the Biden administration provided stronger financial incentives for producing wafers in the U.S. The Trump administration has kept these in place, though it’s made domestic content requirements stricter and more complex overall.
There’s also another new policy variable in the mix: Section 232 tariffs on cheap silicon wafers from China. Going into effect this December, the tariffs could benefit producers like Swift and Cubic, which plan to manufacture silicon cells domestically, while potentially raising costs for companies like Tandem that hope to simply source the cheapest, most efficient silicon available on the market.
At any rate, perovskites give the U.S. a chance to secure a domestic supply chain for the next wave of solar tech. Because while Chinese perovskite producers are setting efficiency records, Wharton told me that they tend to be quieter on the question of durability. That could easily give a Western producer with a credible, multi-decade warranty the opportunity to jump to the front of the pack.
And that may happen sooner than you’d expect. “This always follows the same pattern,” Wharton said of technology breakthroughs generally. “You have a bunch of early entrepreneurs who overhype things, and then everybody goes, Yeah, that was a bunch of BS. And then it actually gets real, and then people go, It’s real, but it’s going to take forever. But then it doesn’t take forever because economics always wins.”
On Duane Arnold, Germany’s far-right win, and Israel’s Falklands play
Current conditions: After decades without a major storm, Hawaii is set to be brushed by its second hurricane this season as Hurricane Lowell comes within 100 miles of the state’s western islands • Typhoon Krovanh is stalling over Okinawa, Japan, and weakening back into a tropical depression • Eastward in the Pacific, Hurricane Marie battered Southern California with 10-foot waves.
On Labor Day, I took a long drive through southern New England and filled the tank of my typically very efficient Honda Accord. The price at the pump made me grateful for work. Gas prices hit a record high for America’s end-of-summer holiday, reaching an average of $4.14, according to the AAA motor club. The national average has never been above $4 for Labor Day weekend, and the new figure easily bested the previous peak of $3.82, set on September 3, 2012. I was too irritated to write down the exact price I paid on Interstate 95 in Connecticut, but it was somewhere closer to $4.30.
The new high came as Iran set up what The Independent called a “potential clash with the U.S. Navy” over a new exclusion zone the Islamic Republic threatened to enforce in the Strait of Hormuz. In response, the price of crude ticked upward. Murban crude, the benchmark for barrels coming out of the United Arab Emirates, spiked more than 3% to nearly $107. Europe’s Brent crude rose nearly 1% to $97 per barrel. West Texas Intermediate, the U.S. measure, rose by more than 1% to about $93. Never fear, for the Russians are — despite sanctions — bringing more supply online. Rosneft shipped the first crude from its Vostok Oil project, which Russia believes holds around 7 billion tons of low-sulfur crude. Per Oil Price, the “project reinforces Russia’s energy pivot toward Asia and the Arctic, with the Northern Sea Route becoming increasingly important for future exports.”
The Department of Energy has unveiled a $1.9 billion loan to restart Iowa’s lone, shuttered nuclear station, the Duane Arnold Energy Center. This morning, the agency’s Office of Energy Dominance Financing said it had already closed the deal with NextEra Energy, the station’s owner. The funding comes as little surprise. The Trump administration is pushing hard to bring more nuclear generation online. One of the first Biden-era spending packages the current administration approved to go out after taking office was a $1.5 billion loan to fund the restart of the first reactor expected to ever begin operations again after a permanent closure, the Palisades nuclear station in Michigan. That plant, as I told you in July, has reached a “watershed moment” and could come back online before its contract to sell electricity kicks in early next year. “Returning 615 megawatts of reliable baseload generation will drive down electricity costs, while supporting thousands of American jobs,” James Danly, the deputy secretary of energy, said in a statement. The head of the financing office, Gregory Beard, called Duane Arnold, which closed in 2020, “exactly the kind of investment that will help restore American nuclear leadership.”
The company behind Palisades, meanwhile, just took a major step toward debuting on the stock market. Early this morning, Holtec Nuclear Corporation, as the company previously called Holtec International will now be known, announced plans to raise more than $1 billion when it starts trading on the Nasdaq. Holtec has not yet given a specific date for its IPO. And just now, another nuclear startup announced an initial fundraising round. Bluecore Energy, one of the firms competing to commercialize offshore floating nuclear in the U.S., pulled in a $50 million seed round led by the venture firm Silverton Partners.
The U.S. Export-Import Bank has issued a letter of interest expressing its willingness to invest up to $750 million into Project Dynamo, a rare earth processing facility in Louisiana.
The plant is the flagship refinery of Alcara Resources, where the Vancouver-based company behind the project, plans to process heavy rare earths such as dysprosium and terbium from its Carina mine in Goiás, Brazil. Compared to the light rare earths produced at California’s Mountain Pass mine, the only U.S. rare earths mine, heavy rare earths are more difficult to refine. The infrastructure is particularly risky given its high cost and the relatively small volumes of heavy rare earths that are needed. “The potential support from EXIM would provide a pathway to bring these capabilities together at industrial scale,” Ramón Barúa, Aclara’s chief executive, said in a press release. “Our objective is to establish a secure, traceable, and sustainable supply chain capable of serving U.S. and allied industries across some of the most critical sectors of the global economy.”Meanwhile, Africa is set for its largest initial public offering in the history of any stock exchange on the continent. Alika Dangote, Africa’s richest man, is looking to raise at least $1.6 billion by listing his oil refinery business on the Nigerian stock exchange. “We’re targeting 10 million shareholders from all over Africa and maybe other parts of the world,” Dangote told the Financial Times. “If you can afford 10 shares, you buy 10. If you can afford one million, you buy one million.”
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For the first time since democracy returned to Germany after World War II, a far-right party is set to assume control of one of the republic’s states. In Sunday’s elections, Alternative für Deutschland won the race to control Saxony-Anhalt, bringing the party to power in one of five former East German states. The national party’s manifesto calls for a “180-degree U-turn in energy policy.” The statewide party in Saxony-Anhalt pledges a “wind power moratorium,” though an analysis by the German investigative site Correctiv — translated into English by the anti-fossil fuels publication DeSmog — cautioned that the party has limited powers since turbine permits are regulated at the federal level. In 2024, Saxony-Anhalt bested the national average by generating about 60% of its power from renewables. Before Germany’s other parties embraced calling the country’s nuclear phaseout a mistake, the AfD, at least on the national level, was among atomic energy’s only high-profile defenders in the country. Still, the AfD’s most significant electoral victory to date sent shockwaves through Germany, where anxiety over the Nazi era has stirred intense debates over whether the party itself has a legal right to compete in elections where right-wing extremists are barred. The party’s defenders, including Elon Musk, counter that the AfD is a legitimate conservative movement addressing issues Germany’s mainstream parties have ignored or obscured.
Across the border in the country exporting lots of nuclear power into Germany every day, France is putting up nearly $1.2 billion to support farmers suffering losses from this summer’s brutal heat waves and wildfires. The funds, according to Bloomberg, will compensate farmers whose crops died off during the drought and heat. “This is new money, not recycled,” Agriculture Minister Annie Genevard said Friday in a press conference, pledging a “massive effort” from the government amid heated debates over the 2027 budget and preparations for next year’s presidential election, which could vault the far-right Marine Le Pen to office.”
You may have been barbecuing and drinking Surfsides on your day off. But on Monday, Ilya Espino de Marotta took over as the new head of the Panama Canal Authority, becoming the first woman to lead the agency overseeing the waterway. The Panamanian engineer has her work cut out for her. She arrives at the helm after a summer of drought that left water levels in the 50-mile pass between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans impassably low. In an interview with The Wall Street Journal, she said she is simultaneously taking on major infrastructure upgrades while managing an influx of shipping as cargo haulers veer away from the Persian Gulf amid the ongoing war. “We are developing a new lake, the Río Indio project. It will be able to accumulate enough water to provide 10 to 15 additional transits per day or about the same volume consumed by drinking water,” she said when asked about water levels. “This project should be ready in 2031.”
In more inflammatory Latin American geopolitics, Israel’s controversial national security minister, Itamar Ben-Gvir, has publicly urged Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to recognize Argentina’s claim to the Falkland Islands. Buenos Aires has long claimed the oil-rich archipelago, which has no documented history of indigenous habitation prior to the British setting up the most permanent settlement ever established. In repeated elections since Britain defeated Argentina following its invasion in 1982, the population of fewer than 4,000 predominantly British people has voted almost unanimously to remain under the Union Jack. Now that the United Kingdom is building the infrastructure to begin drilling for oil offshore starting in 2032 — under a project led by investors with strong ties to Israel, mind you — Argentinian President Javier Milei is working his strong relationships with other right-wing leaders, including President Donald Trump, to gain recognition of what his country calls Las Malvinas. “It’s time for the State of Israel to publicly recognize that the Malvinas Islands are Argentine territory under occupation, which the British violently stole from the Argentine people. The British are not content with merely occupying the territory; they also carry out oil drilling there and steal the money from the Argentine people,” Ben-Gvir wrote in a Spanish-language post on X. “I call upon Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to recognize Argentina’s sovereignty over the Malvinas Islands and to impose sanctions on Great Britain as long as the occupation continues.”
In November 2016, I rode a ferry from Rhode Island to see North America’s first-ever offshore wind turbines. The five-turbine Block Island wind farm, located just off the vacation enclave, seemed magnificently novel a decade ago. This past weekend I rode the ferry with my family to Block Island — the first time I had come near these waters since then. When I stood on the port side pointing out what looked like pinwheels in the distance, I was struck by the vast array of turbines that preceded it: Revolution Wind. On a sunny day, most of the blades in sight were spinning. That wasn’t a given. Regular Heatmap readers know the saga of that project well: Trump tried to kill Revolution Wind repeatedly, the developer fought back, and now it’s roaring. Back when the U.S. turned away from nuclear power following the 1979 Three Mile Island accident, a lot of nuclear engineers headed to South Korea to help that country build what’s now the democratic world’s most competitive atomic power industry. Offshore wind workers may consider a similar pathway. Last week, Renewables Now reported that Seoul plans to designate 25 gigawatts of preliminary offshore wind zones by 2031, with the potential to support up to 45 gigawatts of turbines by 2040.
Talking with National Grid’s Matthew Satterwhite about his new report with S&P Global.
This week’s conversation is with Matthew Satterwhite, head of U.S. policy for National Grid. This week National Grid released a report in collaboration with S&P Global I found noteworthy amidst the data center backlash, asserting that building new transmission lines can potentially reduce consumer costs. I reached out asking if we could chat about how this argument leans into the fight over hyperscale infrastructure. I found our conversation illuminating and educational.
The following Q&A was lightly edited for clarity.
Why did you make this report?
It’s all focused on our customers. We’re always looking to find ways to make sure we can provide our service in the most affordable way possible, the most efficient way possible, and we always think of transmission, but it’s fallen out of favor recently. There’s so much demand with large loads, data centers, advanced manufacturing, reshoring. There’s such a need, and a lot of the debate has been focused on what we need on the generation side. We think transmission is an answer, as well.
We focused on what we have control over — since we’re in deregulated states, the only generation we’re doing is to help states reach their renewable goals. It’s a real page-turner. We really get to the core of everything.
Can we lower customer bills with transmission? This report actually showed us that’s a good investment and helps with the resource adequacy and the constraint problems we have in the Northeast. You can bring cheaper electricity in.
With respect to concerns for everyday consumers, how much do you feel like new transmission might alleviate ordinary Americans’ concerns about rising energy prices?
When you look at the demand that’s coming, the projection is that by 2035, we’ll have to add 45 gigawatts, currently. We’re on that path right now. Transmission alone isn’t going to meet that, but the question is, how do we temper that down? What do we do as National Grid to help alleviate the need for all that demand? Can we get that somewhere else rather than in the region by building generation? It's a different version of all of the above. It’s not a generation single answer or a transmission single answer. We think transmission is a big part of that.
This also allows you to bring in cleaner energy from other places. The more robust the network is, you can have energy in different places and bring that in. It replaces the need for some of the generation to be built and pays for itself by creating a cheaper return for customers adding this.
How much of the data center backlash is affecting your transmission project planning calculus? How is it changing what lines are built in the country?
We’re focused on how we can provide the cheapest service for our customers and physics. It’s science and long-term planning. We don’t have the luxury — we can’t follow, this month we’re thinking something, someone got mad, and so we’re thinking something else. We study a lot of science and physics to figure out how to build the grid.
Do you feel like the average Joe Schmoe American sees transmission as making their life less expensive and making their electricity more reliable?
I think there’s frustration and a lack of understanding about the industry overall. There’s fear of the unknown. Are data centers really driving everything that’s happening? That’s where I think, with reports like this, the benefit of it will be that people will read this and see there’s other things we can do to address the load that we need, something different than building a bunch of generation plants.
How do the question marks around whether data centers get built affect transmission planning? How much harder is the backlash making your job?
It’s a science question. Do we do a bunch of work and then nothing happens? That’s why states put their policies out. There’s multiple studies you go through with a region and with a utility. I think that’s one reason why you see states slowing down, to make sure the policy is in check so people don’t do work they don’t need to do. It’s about having the policy to make sure, if you’re studying something, you’re doing it with a purpose.