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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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Behind both the Anthropic IPO and the Iran War negotiations sits the energy transition.
When you get down to it, two stories are dominating the American economy at the moment.
The first is the artificial intelligence boom. The second is the Iran war — and the wavering peace talks, and unprecedented energy transformation, that accompany it. Both stories advanced on Monday.
In the morning, the frontier AI lab Anthropic announced that it had confidentially filed with the Securities and Exchange Commission for an initial public offering, a widely anticipated step that could see its shares start trading as early as the fall.
The Iran news was perhaps less bullish. Iran announced this morning that it was suspending negotiations after it traded missile and bomb attacks with the United States through the weekend. Oil prices surged on the news before relaxing somewhat after President Trump personally intervened to keep Israel from bombing Lebanon. Trump claimed peace talks with Iran “are continuing, at a rapid pace.”
Still, oil ended the day higher than where it started. The global Brent crude benchmark rose more than 4.5% to over $95 per barrel. The American benchmark, WTI, rose more than 5% to around $92. While neither benchmark has reached its highs from earlier in the war, the episode seemed to remind investors that an oil crisis is still happening and that talks could fall apart at any time. The Strait of Hormuz remains (mostly) closed.
Taken together, the two stories suggest generally good news — or at least, that’s what investors thought. Most major U.S. stock indices crept up slightly through the day; the S&P 500 closed up a quarter of a percent. (It helped that Nvidia — whose head of sustainability I interviewed for Heatmap’s podcast, Shift Key, last week — also unveiled a new consumer laptop chip this morning, sending its shares surging.)
Viewed from another angle, though, you can see a common energy story in these updates. The Anthropic filing — taken together with last week’s news that “mind-blowing growth” is about to propel the lab behind the Claude AI assistant into its first profitable quarter — is a reminder that surging electricity demand is now a dependable part of our electricity system. Demand will in turn remain strong for anything that can help supply that electricity — solar panels, batteries, wind turbines, and (yes) natural gas paraphernalia.
Meanwhile, who knows what will happen in a week or two, but for now, the Iran-induced oil shortage has caused so much demand destruction in China — and seemed to encourage so much switching to electric vehicles — that it seems almost manageable. The commodity researchers at JP Morgan last week mused that the world may be learning to live with 9% less oil. It helps, of course, that China — and the rest of the world — is drawing down its strategic reserves; price action has remained muted in part because oil investors believe Trump is desperate for a deal. But if East Asia and Europe respond to the oil shortage by permanently deleting at least part of their oil demand, it will be by switching from oil and diesel-burning technologies to power-sipping EVs and batteries.
Behind both of the economy’s biggest stories, in other words, sits the great global transition to electricity.
A climate scientist goes back to the numbers to argue that we’re overestimating the cost of the energy transition.
I’ve long been struck by how hard it is to predict the evolution of our energy system even a few years in advance, never mind 25 or 30 years. I still remember the “peak oil” craze in the mid-2000s, when people were telling me the end of oil was nigh. It sounded convincing right up until it turned out to be wrong.
Let me show you how bad previous predictions have been for the electricity sector.
Each plot below shows predictions of how a particular source of electricity will evolve, as well as what actually happened. The data comes from the Energy Information Administration and covers the U.S. electricity sector.
We’ll start with coal. In the first plot, the black line shows actual U.S. coal-fired electricity generation. The blue lines are predictions made each year since 2008.
In 2008, coal was expected to produce increasing amounts of electricity into the future. Instead, it immediately started to decline. It took until 2023 for the EIA to begin predicting a long-term decline in coal, despite the fact that coal had been declining for 15 years.
Natural gas, by contrast, has generated an increasing share of U.S. electricity. This is largely due to the tidal wave of cheap natural gas from hydraulic fracturing. The predictions, on the other hand, did not anticipate this.
The takeaway here is that predicting the evolution of our energy system is not just difficult in the long run, e.g., 30 years from now, but also that it’s difficult even in the short run.
If we combine coal and gas, the forecasts look better. This reflects the fact that natural gas has largely replaced coal over the years, so that the underestimate for gas helps cancel out the overestimate for coal.
But even for the combined category, the forecasts vary widely.
Moving on to renewables, here’s solar, including both utility and residential solar:
And here’s wind:
For both energy sources, predictions before 2015 were really bad. What changed after that I can’t say — my guess is they got sick of being so wrong.
Across all energy sources, the 2023 and 2025 forecasts differ sharply from the 2026 forecast. The predictions made for those years assume the persistence of Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act, while 2026 predictions assume the reversal of those policies.
The difference between 2025 and 2026 is an estimate of the role that politics plays in the future evolution of our electricity sector. That we cannot confidently predict who will win future elections or what their policies will be is another very good reason why it’s so hard to predict the future of our energy system.
Why is it so hard to predict the energy mix in our electricity system? One big reason is that it is hard to predict the future rate of innovation. We can see this in a plot of the cost of energy:
I’m using levelized cost of energy as my measure of the cost to produce power from each source. I understand the limitations of LCOE, but for an energy developer, LCOE is the number that counts. Yes, wind and solar are intermittent, but that’s a grid problem. All that matters to the developer is which low-LCOE energy source they can build.
You can see that the price of wind and solar plummeted in the early 2010s, reflecting enormous innovation in the production of renewable energy. That was not predicted by most mainstream forecasts, as confirmed by predictions of wind and solar above.
There has also been a lot of innovation in fossil fuel production, most importantly fracking and horizontal drilling. These technologies drove down the cost of natural gas in the late 2000s and changed the economics of electricity generation almost overnight. Coal plants that had looked like safe long-term investments suddenly faced a cheaper competitor.
Yet this, too, was largely missed. In the late 2000s, many utilities were still trying to build coal plants, unable to see that coal was entering a precipitous decline. TXU Corp., for instance, tried to build 11 new coal plants in Texas in the mid-aughts. Though it was the state’s largest utility at the time, it ultimately got bought out by private equity, who compromised with environmental groups and agreed to build just three of the original 11 proposed plants, two of which are still in operation.
Meanwhile, the restructured TXU declared bankruptcy in 2014, after natural gas prices collapsed.
All of this goes to show that coal was not beaten by a single technology. It was beaten by a sequence of technologies that forecasters failed to anticipate.
Based on economics, coal is now a stone-cold loser. Its remaining advantage is not cost, nor is it speed of construction or flexibility. It is politics. The Trump Administration is forcing coal-fired plants to stay open, and recent reporting suggests these interventions are raising costs for consumers.
In the competition between solar, wind, and natural gas, solar and wind are the cheapest. The combination of low costs and short construction times with the price volatility of natural gas gives wind and solar a huge market advantage, explaining their exponential growth.
Yes, solar and wind are coming for natural gas.
The LCOE plot also shows the profound disadvantage nuclear faces. Nuclear energy costs nearly $200 per megawatt-hour, around four times the cost of wind and solar. And it takes a decade or two to get it online. Without government mandates or heavy policy support, I would say there is little likelihood we will see a nuclear renaissance.
Much of the debate in climate policy centers on the cost, difficulty, and timeline for phasing out fossil fuels in order to achieve net zero. You constantly hear pundits and analysts throwing around eye-popping numbers, confidently claiming, e.g., that “it will cost XXX trillions of dollars to reach net zero in our economy by 2050.”

But if the forecasting failures of the past 20 years have taught us anything, it’s this: We simply have no idea how much decarbonization will cost.
You should treat numbers like McKinsey’s estimate above as guesses. They could be right, but historically speaking, they probably aren’t.
To summarize, here are the reasons why the true cost of reaching net zero remains so uncertain:
Overall, the uncertainty in these long-term forecasts is enormous. And if history is any guide, the errors are not random. They usually point in the same direction — they overestimate the cost of the energy transition.
One reason is that traditional forecasting models tend to assume slow, steady technological progress. But energy technologies do not always improve that way. Solar, wind, batteries, and fracking all show that costs can change fast when conditions line up. Most models, which assume gradual change, will miss these breaks.
Another problem is that fossil fuels are often treated as stable, low-risk alternatives. They are not. Their prices can swing wildly, and their supply chains are exposed to wars, political instability, and global market shocks. Those costs are real and hard to predict, so they are left out of these estimates.
That is the central point: Estimates of the cost of the energy transition should be treated as conditional guesses built on assumptions about technology, fuel prices, politics, and geopolitics, all of which have repeatedly surprised us.
The lesson of the past 20 years is not that the energy transition will be easy or hard — we really don’t know. Anyone claiming to know the cost decades in advance should be treated with skepticism.
Editor’s note: A version of this article originally appeared in the author’s newsletter, The Climate Brink, and has been repurposed for Heatmap.
Current conditions: The Atlantic hurricane season officially began today, in what’s expected to be a relatively mild year • A powerful storm with winds of up to 80 miles per hour is walloping broad swaths of millions of Australians • Temperatures in Oman are approaching 120 degrees Fahrenheit.

The United States’ offshore wind industry is, at this very moment, booming — at least in terms of the turbine arrays finally coming online in recent weeks. But there are no new projects underway as President Donald Trump pulls out all the stops to kill the industry in what I have previously called a death by a thousand cuts. That’s despite the fact that demand for electricity is soaring in the U.S. Luckily for Americans, our nation’s aging network of power grids overlaps with our northern neighbor’s. And Canada is now looking at a potential offshore wind boom. Last summer, Nova Scotia started laying the groundwork for offshore wind projects. Now Ming Yang, the world’s third-largest manufacturer of wind turbines, is considering investing in a project off Canada’s Pacific coast. The proposed project in the Hecate Strait off British Columbia would add up to 2 gigawatts of offshore wind capacity to Canada’s portfolio, according to Renewables Now. It’s part of Ming Yang’s broader push into Western markets, as my colleague Matthew Zeitlin reported last October.
Just days after New York State delayed its carbon-cutting plan and loosened the rules on how it counts greenhouse gases, California mounted its own retreat on climate goals. On Friday, Bloomberg reported that the California Air Resources Board had voted to give as much as $4 billion of free allowances to oil refiners and other industrial polluters to make compliance with the state’s 13-year-old carbon market easier. At least New York Governor Kathy Hochul “had the decency” to signal publicly that she intended to roll back the state’s climate law, said Danny Cullenward, an economist and lawyer who wrote a book on climate policy. “Here in California we do the same in private and call it climate leadership,” Cullenward wrote of California Governor Gavin Newsom and CARB Chair Lauren Sanchez in a post on Bluesky.
Kudos to the Trump administration, then, for being so open about its plans to render the SEC something that might more appropriately serve as an acronym for Salting the Earth of Climate disclosures. Last month, I told you that the Securities and Exchange Commission was reviewing a Biden-era rule requiring companies to disclose the risk climate change posed to their businesses. On Friday, the agency formally proposed eliminating the regulation. “SEC disclosure obligations should comply with the Commission’s statutory authority, be guided by materiality as the North Star, avoid the practical effect of dictating corporate behavior, and be imposed only when the expected benefits justify the likely costs and burdens,” SEC Chairman Paul S. Atkins said in a statement.
Rehlko isn’t a household name, but it used to be: The 106-year-old firm was previously called Kohler Energy. But since spinning out from the titan of American manufacturing of kitchen sinks and bathroom toilets, Rehlko has honed its business as a leading producer and installer of generators and the infrastructure to house the diesel-, gas-, or hydrogen-fired power sources. Now, I can report exclusively for this newsletter, the company is preparing to expand its factory in Wisconsin as its backlog of orders for generators to power data centers stretches beyond 13 months. In an interview on Friday, Rehlko CEO Brian Melka told me that this facility is part of a plan “to increase the size and the output of the business about four to five times, or 400% to 500%, over the next five or six years.” The Wisconsin plant is specifically designed to assemble the company’s “e-frame” product, a generator enclosure that looks like a shipping container and includes the wiring and fire suppression tools needed to safely house one of Rehlko’s proprietary generators, which provide off-grid back-up power to data centers, hospitals, and other large power users. In addition to beefing up its capacity to manufacture more generators and enclosures, the company is expanding its engineering team for larger projects in which Rehlko uses another firm’s gas turbines for full-time power generation.
“We want to maintain that competitive edge, not only to be able to deliver the product faster but also to deliver the entire solution faster,” Melka said. “This is going to significantly increase our capacity as we go into 2027 with this new facility to be able to build many more fully enclosed units. The demand keeps pushing out. We essentially sold out the capacity for that building for 2027 and 2028 before we even signed the lease.”
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Unlike Russia, France, Japan, and China, the U.S. doesn’t recycle its nuclear waste. That is, until now. Roughly half a dozen companies are competing to be the first to create a beachhead for a new recycling industry in the U.S. Now one of those startups, Curio, has kicked off the pre-application process for a Nuclear Regulatory Commission permit. It’s just an inaugural step: Submitting a letter of intent to the agency to establish a docket and start providing documents to the regulator. But Curio plans to build a plant that could process up to 4,000 metric tons of used commercial light water reactor fuel per year. “The initiation of this application process marks a key and decisive moment for Curio and our nation as we commercially deploy what will be the world’s most advanced and capable used nuclear fuel recycling facility based on our game-changing NuCycle technology,” Curio CEO Ed McGinnis said in a statement, referring to the brand of the company’s reprocessing technology that was recently validated by four of the Department of Energy’s national laboratories.
South Korea, meanwhile, wants to start enriching and reprocessing its own fuel, and has garnered support from the Trump administration to do so. In the meantime, the democratic world’s most competent builder of civilian nuclear plants is doing what it does best and starting construction on a new reactor. On Friday, World Nuclear News reported that crews had poured the first concrete for Shin Hanul nuclear plant’s fourth reactor.
In January, I told you when Century Aluminum overhauled its plans to build the first new aluminum smelter in the U.S. to include an investment from an Emirati company. At the time, the Energy Department hailed the deal as a sign that Trump’s tariffs were working. On Friday, Mining.com published a feature building off a report from the advocacy group Industrious Labs that examined the recent push for new aluminum smelting in the U.S. The analysis concluded that, while 50% tariffs bolstered the sector, “access to industrial-scale electricity — and increasingly industrial-scale clean electricity — is the pain point,” said Annie Sartor, senior campaigns director at Industrious Labs. “Aluminum producers are being scooped by data centers and hyperscalers. They can simply pay more for the power.”
Among the more exciting concepts for supplying the market with cheap, clean, and affordable hydrogen is finding the stuff in naturally-formed underground reservoirs, allowing oil and gas drillers to do their thing for a green fuel. Now Oman, the Arab world’s diplomatic equivalent of Switzerland, is making progress in drilling the first wells for natural hydrogen. HyTerra, the Australian startup exploring for hydrogen in the country, told the Oman Observer that the successful pilot well boded well for tapping “one of the best source rock systems” for natural hydrogen yet discovered in the world. Given the latest heat wave in the country, the value of a fossil fuel replacement is likely becoming more obvious.