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Inside Climeworks’ big experiment to wrest carbon from the air

In the spring of 2021, the world’s leading authority on energy published a “roadmap” for preventing the most catastrophic climate change scenarios. One of its conclusions was particularly daunting. Getting energy-related emissions down to net zero by 2050, the International Energy Agency said, would require “huge leaps in innovation.”
Existing technologies would be mostly sufficient to carry us down the carbon curve over the next decade. But after that, nearly half of the remaining work would have to come from solutions that, for all intents and purposes, did not exist yet. Some would only require retooling existing industries, like developing electric long-haul trucks and carbon-free steel. But others would have to be built from almost nothing and brought to market in record time.
What will it take to rapidly develop new solutions, especially those that involve costly physical infrastructure and which have essentially no commercial value today?
That’s the challenge facing Climeworks, the Swiss company developing machines to wrest carbon dioxide molecules directly from the air. In September 2021, a few months after the IEA’s landmark report came out, Climeworks switched on its first commercial-scale “direct air capture” facility, a feat of engineering it dubbed “Orca,” in Iceland.
The technology behind Orca is one of the top candidates to clean up the carbon already blanketing the Earth. It could also be used to balance out any stubborn, residual sources of greenhouse gases in the future, such as from agriculture or air travel, providing the “net” in net-zero. If we manage to scale up technologies like Orca to the point where we remove more carbon than we release, we could even begin cooling the planet.
As the largest carbon removal plant operating in the world, Orca is either trivial or one of the most important climate projects built in the last decade, depending on how you look at it. It was designed to capture approximately 4,000 metric tons of carbon from the air per year, which, as one climate scientist, David Ho, put it, is the equivalent of rolling back the clock on just 3 seconds of global emissions. But the learnings gleaned from Orca could surpass any quantitative assessment of its impact. How well do these “direct air capture” machines work in the real world? How much does it really cost to run them? And can they get better?
The company — and its funders — are betting they can. Climeworks has made major deals with banks, insurers, and other companies trying to go green to eventually remove carbon from the atmosphere on their behalf. Last year, the company raised $650 million in equity that will “unlock the next phase of its growth,” scaling the technology “up to multi-million-ton capacity … as carbon removal becomes a trillion-dollar market.” And just last month, the U.S. Department of Energy selected Climeworks, along with another carbon removal company, Heirloom, to receive up to $600 million to build a direct air capture “hub” in Louisiana, with the goal of removing one million tons of carbon annually.
Two years after powering up Orca, Climeworks has yet to reveal how effective the technology has proven to be. But in extensive interviews, top executives painted a picture of innovation in progress.
Chief marketing officer Julie Gosalvez told me that Orca is small and climatically insignificant on purpose. The goal is not to make a dent in climate change — yet — but to maximize learning at minimal cost. “You want to learn when you're small, right?” Gosalvez said. “It’s really de-risking the technology. It’s not like Tesla doing EVs when we have been building cars for 70 years and the margin of learning and risk is much smaller. It’s completely new.”
From the ground, Orca looks sort of like a warehouse or a server farm with a massive air conditioning system out back. The plant consists of eight shipping container-sized boxes arranged in a U-shape around a central building, each one equipped with an array of fans. When the plant is running, which is more or less all the time, the fans suck air into the containers where it makes contact with a porous filter known as a “sorbent” which attracts CO2 molecules.

When the filters become totally saturated with CO2, the vents on the containers snap shut, and the containers are heated to more than 212 degrees Fahrenheit. This releases the CO2, which is then delivered through a pipe to a secondary process called “liquefaction,” where it is compressed into a liquid. Finally, the liquid CO2 is piped into basalt rock formations underground, where it slowly mineralizes into stone. The process requires a little bit of electricity and a lot of heat, all of which comes from a carbon-free source — a geothermal power plant nearby.
A day at Orca begins with the morning huddle. The total number on the team is often in flux, but it typically has a staff of about 15 people, Climeworks’ head of operations Benjamin Keusch told me. Ten work in a virtual control room 1,600 miles away in Zurich, taking turns monitoring the plant on a laptop and managing its operations remotely. The remainder work on site, taking orders from the control room, repairing equipment, and helping to run tests.
During the huddle, the team discusses any maintenance that needs to be done. If there’s an issue, the control room will shut down part of the plant while the on-site workers investigate. So far, they’ve dealt with snow piling up around the plant that had to be shoveled, broken and corroded equipment that had to be replaced, and sediment build-up that had to be removed.

The air is more humid and sulfurous at the site in Iceland than in Switzerland, where Climeworks had built an earlier, smaller-scale model, so the team is also learning how to optimize the technology for different weather. Within all this troubleshooting, there’s additional trade-offs to explore and lessons to learn. If a part keeps breaking, does it make more sense to plan to replace it periodically, or to redesign it? How do supply chain constraints play into that calculus?
The company is also performing tests regularly, said Keusch. For example, the team has tested new component designs at Orca that it now plans to incorporate into Climeworks’ next project from the start. (Last year, the company began construction on “Mammoth,” a new plant that will be nine times larger than Orca, on a neighboring site.) At a summit that Climeworks hosted in June, co-founder Jan Wurzbacher said the company believes that over the next decade, it will be able to make its direct air capture system twice as small and cut its energy consumption in half.
“In innovation lingo, the jargon is we haven’t converged on a dominant design,” Gregory Nemet, a professor at the University of Wisconsin who studies technological development, told me. For example, in the wind industry, turbines with three blades, upwind design, and a horizontal axis, are now standard. “There were lots of other experiments before that convergence happened in the late 1980s,” he said. “So that’s kind of where we are with direct air capture. There’s lots of different ways that are being tried right now, even within a company like Climeworks."
Although Climeworks was willing to tell me about the goings-on at Orca over the last two years, the company declined to share how much carbon it has captured or how much energy, on average, the process has used.
Gosalvez told me that the plant’s performance has improved month after month, and that more detailed information was shared with investors. But she was hesitant to make the data public, concerned that it could be misinterpreted, because tests and maintenance at Orca require the plant to shut down regularly.
“Expectations are not in line with the stage of the technology development we are at. People expect this to be turnkey,” she said. “What does success look like? Is it the absolute numbers, or the learnings and ability to scale?”
Danny Cullenward, a climate economist and consultant who has studied the integrity of various carbon removal methods, did not find the company’s reluctance to share data especially concerning. “For these earliest demonstration facilities, you might expect people to hit roadblocks or to have to shut the plant down for a couple of weeks, or do all sorts of things that are going to make it hard to transparently report the efficiency of your process, the number of tons you’re getting at different times,” he told me.
But he acknowledged that there was an inherent tension to the stance, because ultimately, Climeworks’ business model — and the technology’s effectiveness as a climate solution — depend entirely on the ability to make precise, transparent, carbon accounting claims.
Nemet was also of two minds about it. Carbon removal needs to go from almost nothing today to something like a billion tons of carbon removed per year in just three decades, he said. That’s a pace on the upper end of what’s been observed historically with other technologies, like solar panels. So it’s important to understand whether Climeworks’ tech has any chance of meeting the moment. Especially since the company faces competition from a number of others developing direct air capture technologies, like Heirloom and Occidental Petroleum, that may be able to do it cheaper, or faster.
However, Nemet was also sympathetic to the position the company was in. “It’s relatively incremental how these technologies develop,” he said. “I have heard this criticism that this is not a real technology because we haven’t built it at scale, so we shouldn’t depend on it. Or that one of these plants not doing the removal that it said it would do shows that it doesn’t work and that we therefore shouldn’t plan on having it available. To me, that’s a pretty high bar to cross with a climate mitigation technology that could be really useful.”
More data on Orca is coming. Climeworks recently announced that it will work with the company Puro.Earth to certify every ton of CO2 that it removes from the atmosphere and stores underground, in order to sell carbon credits based on this service. The credits will be listed on a public registry.
But even if Orca eventually runs at full capacity, Climeworks will never be able to sell 4,000 carbon credits per year from the plant. Gosalvez clarified that 4,000 tons is the amount of carbon the plant is designed to suck up annually, but the more important number is the amount of “net” carbon removal it can produce. “That might be the first bit of education you need to get out there,” she said, “because it really invites everyone to look at what are the key drivers to be paid attention to.”
She walked me through a chart that illustrated the various ways in which some of Orca’s potential to remove carbon can be lost. First, there’s the question of availability — how often does the plant have to shut down due to maintenance or power shortages? Climeworks aims to limit those losses to 10%. Next, there’s the recovery stage, where the CO2 is separated from the sorbent, purified, and liquified. Gosalvez said it’s basically impossible to do this without losing some CO2. At best, the company hopes to limit that to 5%.
Finally, the company also takes into account “gray emissions,” or the carbon footprint associated with the business, like the materials, the construction, and the eventual decommissioning of the plant and restoration of the site to its former state. If one of Climeworks’ plants ever uses energy from fossil fuels (which the company has said it does not plan to do) it would incorporate any emissions from that energy. Climeworks aims to limit gray emissions to 15%.
In the end, Orca’s net annual carbon removal capacity — the amount Climeworks can sell to customers — is really closer to 3,000 tons. Gosalvez hopes other carbon removal companies adopt the same approach. “Ultimately what counts is your net impact on the planet and the atmosphere,” she said.
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Despite being a first-of-its-kind demonstration plant — and an active research site — Orca is also a commercial project. In fact, Gosalvez told me that Orca’s entire estimated capacity for carbon removal, over the 12 years that the plant is expected to run, sold out shortly after it began operating. The company is now selling carbon removal services from its yet-to-be-built Mammoth plant.
In January, Climeworks announced that Orca had officially fulfilled orders from Microsoft, Stripe, and Shopify. Those companies have collectively asked Climeworks to remove more than 16,000 tons of carbon, according to the deal-tracking site cdr.fyi, but it’s unclear what portion of that was delivered. The achievement was verified by a third party, but the total amount removed was not made public.
Climeworks has also not disclosed how much it has charged companies per ton of carbon, a metric that will eventually be an important indicator of whether the technology can scale to a climate-relevant level. But it has provided rough estimates of how much it expects each ton of carbon removal to cost as the technology scales — expectations which seem to have shifted after two years of operating Orca.
In 2021, Climeworks co-founder Jan Wurzbacher said the company aimed to get the cost down to $200 to $300 per ton removed by the end of the decade, with steeper declines in subsequent years. But at the summit in June, he presented a new cost curve chart showing that the price was currently more than $1,000, and that by the end of the decade, it would fall to somewhere between $400 to $700. The range was so large because the cost of labor, energy, and storing the CO2 varied widely by location, he said. The company aims to get the price down to $100 to $300 per ton by 2050, when the technology has significantly matured.
Critics of carbon removal technologies often point to the vast sums flowing into direct air capture tech like Orca, which are unlikely to make a meaningful difference in climate change for decades to come. During a time when worsening disasters make action feel increasingly urgent, many are skeptical of the value of investing limited funds and political energy into these future solutions. Carbon removal won’t make much of a difference if the world doesn’t deploy the tools already available to reduce emissions as rapidly as possible — and there’s certainly not enough money or effort going into that yet.
But we’ll never have the option to fully halt climate change, let alone begin reversing it, if we don’t develop solutions like Orca. In September, the International Energy Agency released an update to its seminal net-zero report. The new analysis said that in the last two years, the world had, in fact, made significant progress on innovation. Now, some 65% of emission reductions after 2030 could be accounted for with technologies that had reached market uptake. It even included a line about the launch of Orca, noting that Climeworks’ direct air capture technology had moved from the prototype to the demonstration stage.
But it cautioned that DAC needs “to be scaled up dramatically to play the role envisaged,” in the net zero scenario. Climeworks’ experience with Orca offers a glimpse of how much work is yet to be done.
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Members of the nation’s largest grid couldn’t agree on a recommendation for how to deal with the surge of incoming demand.
The members of PJM Interconnection, the country’s largest electricity market, held an advisory vote Wednesday to help decide how the grid operator should handle the tidal wave of incoming demand from data centers. Twelve proposals were put forward by data center companies, transmission companies, power companies, utilities, state legislators, advocates, PJM’s market monitor, and PJM itself.
None of them passed.
“There was no winner here,” PJM chief executive Manu Asthana told the meeting following the announcement of the vote tallies. There was, however, “a lot of information in these votes,” he added. “We’re going to study them closely.”
The PJM board was always going to make the final decision on what it would submit to federal regulators, and will try to get something to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission by the end of the year, Asthana said — just before he plans to step down as CEO.
“PJM opened this conversation about the integration of large loads and greatly appreciates our stakeholders for their contributions to this effort. The stakeholder process produced many thoughtful proposals, some of which were introduced late in the process and require additional development,” a PJM spokesperson said in a statement. “This vote is advisory to PJM’s independent Board. The Board can and does expect to act on large load additions to the system and will make its decision known in the next few weeks.”
The surge in data center development — actual and planned — has thrown the 13-state PJM Interconnection into a crisis, with utility bills rising across the network due to the billions of dollars in payments required to cover the additional costs.
Those rising bills have led to cries of frustration from across the PJM member states — and from inside the house.
“The current supply of capacity in PJM is not adequate to meet the demand from large data center loads and will not be adequate in the foreseeable future,” PJM’s independent market monitor wrote in a memo earlier this month. “Customers are already bearing billions of dollars in higher costs as a direct result of existing and forecast data center load,” it said in a quarterly report released just a few days letter, pegging the added charges to ensure that generators will be available in times of grid stress due to data center development at over $16 billion.
PJM’s initial proposal to deal with the data center swell would have created a category for new large sources of demand on the system to interconnect without the backing of capacity; in return, they’d agree to have their power supply curtailed when demand got too high. The proposal provoked outrage from just about everyone involved in PJM, including data center developers and analysts who were open to flexibility in general, who said that the grid operator was overstepping its responsibilities.
PJM’s subsequent proposal would allow for voluntary participation in a curtailment program, but was lambasted by environmental groups like Evergreen Collaborative for not having “any semblance of ambition.” PJM’s own market monitor said that voluntary schemes to curtail power “are not equivalent to new generation,” and that instead data centers should “be required to bring their own new generation” — essentially to match their own demand with new supply.
A coalition of environmental groups, including the Natural Resources Defence Council and state legislators in PJM, said in their proposal that data centers should be required to bring their own capacity — crucially counting demand response (being paid to curtail power) as a source of capacity.
“The growth of data centers is colliding with the reality of the power grid,” Tom Rutigliano, who works on grid issues for the Natural Resources Defense Council, said in a statement. “PJM members weren’t able to see past their commercial interests and solve a critical reliability threat. Now the board will need to stand up and make some hard decisions.”
Those decisions will come without any consensus from members about what to do next.
“Just because none of these passed doesn’t mean that the board will not act,” David Mills, the chairman of PJM’s board of managers, said at the conclusion of the meeting. “We will make our best efforts to put something together that will address the issues.”
California energy companies are asking for permission to take in more revenue. Consumer advocates are having none of it.
There’s a seemingly obvious solution to expensive electricity bills: Cut utility profits.
Investor-owned utilities have to deliver profits to their shareholders to be able to raise capital for grid projects. That profit comes in the form of a markup you and I pay on our electricity bills. State regulators decide how much that mark-up is. What if they made it lower?
A growing body of evidence suggests they should at least consider it. In principle, the rate of return on equity, or ROE, that regulators allow utilities to charge should reflect the risk that equity investors are taking by putting their money in those utilities, but that relationship seems to have gotten out of whack. Among the first to draw attention to the issue was a 2019 paper by Carnegie Mellon researchers which found that since the 1990s, the average “risk premium” exhibited by utility ROEs as compared to relatively risk-free U.S. Treasury bonds has grown from 3% to nearly 8%.
“An error or bias of merely one percentage point in the allowed return would imply tens of billions of dollars in additional cost for ratepayers in the form of higher retail power prices,” the authors wrote.
Subsequent research reproduced and built on those findings, showing that a generous ROE creates a perverse incentive for utilities to increase their capital investments, leading to excess costs for consumers of $3 billion to $11 billion per year. Now, the ex-chief economist of a major U.S. utility company, Mark Ellis, is putting his own analysis out there, arguing that unreasonably high ROEs are costing U.S. energy customers $50 billion per year, or over $300 per household.
Not only does this hurt consumers, it also makes the energy transition more expensive and less politically palatable.
That’s what environmental and consumer advocates are worried about in California, where the Public Utility Commission is currently considering requests by the state’s four largest energy companies to raise each of their ROE. Utilities in the state have reported record profits amid a worsening affordability crisis. On Friday, the commission signaled that it would instead lower the companies’ ROE — although not nearly as much as advocates have recommended. A final decision is expected in December.
“It’s a joke,” Ellis, the former utility executive, told me of the commission proceedings. “If you read the proposed decision, they don’t address any of the facts or evidence in the case at all.” His own analysis, which he submitted to the California commission on behalf of the Sierra Club, proposes that an average ROE of 6%, down from about 10%, would be justified and has the potential to save California energy customers more than $6 billion per year.
Utilities, of course, disagree, and have brought their own analysis and warnings about the risks of lowering their ROE. Regulators are left to sort through it all to figure out the magic number — one large enough to appeal to investors, but not so large as to throw ratepayers under the bus.
How does the ROE work its way into your bill? Let’s say your local utility, The Electric Company, has a regulated return on equity of 10%, and it plans to spend $100 million to build new substations. Utilities typically finance these kinds of capital projects with a mix of debt (loans they will have to pay interest on) and equity (shares sold to investors). Then they recover that money from ratepayers over the course of decades. If The Electric Company raises half of the capital, or $50 million, via equity, an ROE of 10% means it will be able to charge ratepayers $5 million on top of the cost of the project. That additional $5 million is factored into the per-killowatt-hour rates that customers pay. The profit can then be reinvested into future projects, issued to shareholders as dividends, paid out to executives as bonuses — the list goes on.
The energy research group RMI, which agrees that the average utility ROE is much too high, estimates the surcharge currently makes up between 15% and 20%% of the average customer’s utility bill. “Setting ROEs at the right level is necessary to bring forward a rapid, just, and equitable transition,” RMI wrote.
Utilities, however, say the “right level” is likely higher, not lower. They warn that in reality, lowering their ROE would trigger a cascade of negative effects — credit downgrades, higher borrowing costs, lower stock prices, investors taking their money elsewhere — that would push energy rates up, not down. These effects would also make it more difficult for utilities to invest in projects to clean up and expand the electric grid.
Timothy Winter, the portfolio manager of a utility-focused fund at the investment firm Gabelli, told me this “virtuous cycle” runs in both directions. Higher ROEs lead to a lower cost of capital, which leads to more investment, better reliability, and lower rates, he argued. Winter said that if California regulators reduced utility ROEs to 6%, investors would flee the state.
Between growing wildfire risk and the bankruptcy of California’s largest utility, PG&E, California energy providers are too exposed to warrant such low returns, he said. As a comparison, he noted that U.S. Treasury bonds, which are generally viewed as risk-free, yield about 4%. “If it’s a 6% return with an equity risk, they’re not going to do it,” he said of investors.
I probed Winter a bit more on this. Is that really true given that utilities are still, in many ways, the opposite of risky investments? They have captive customers, stable income, and are seeing skyrocketing growth in demand for their product.
This caused him to spiral down into an investor’s worst nightmare scenario. “Yes, there is a risk,” he said. “If a regulator is willing to give a 6% return and they used to give 11%, how do I know they’re not going to decide, okay, rates keep going up, next rate case it’s going to be 4%?” After that, he said, how can investors be sure the government won’t end up taking over the utility altogether?
Travis Miller, a senior equity analyst at Morningstar, was more measured. He hesitated to tell me whether a 6% ROE would hurt utilities’ ability to raise capital. “What usually happens” when regulators lower the ROE, he said, “is the utilities just decide not to invest very much, so then they don’t have to raise capital.” He would expect the California utilities to “invest to maintain reliability and that’s about it,” meaning that “a lot of new data center build that is planned in California would have to go elsewhere.”
Return on equity also isn’t the only thing investors look at, Miller added. They consider the overall regulatory environment. Is it predictable? Is it transparent? He said there have been cases where regulators cut a utility’s ROE but the overall regulatory environment remained strong, and other instances where the cut to ROE was “another sign of a deteriorating relationship” — a phrase that brings to mind Winter’s panic about government takeovers. (I should note, advocates for public takeovers of utilities cite this whole dynamic around the need to woo investors and the perverse incentives it creates as a key justification for their cause. Publicly-owned utilities — which serve about 1 in 7 electricity customers in the U.S., including in large cities like Sacramento, Los Angeles, and Seattle — don’t charge an ROE.)
When I spoke to Ellis about his proposal, I fired off all of the utility arguments I could think of. Won’t utilities stop building stuff and making the investments we need them to make if they can’t earn as much? “They have a legal obligation to continue to invest,” he said. But will they be able to raise equity? They don’t necessarily need to raise new equity, he responded, suggesting that utilities could reinvest more of their profits rather than distributing the money as dividends. This is not how utilities traditionally operate, he admitted, but it’s an option.
Prior to taking up the consumer cause, Ellis spent 15 years in leadership and executive roles at Sempra Energy, the parent company of San Diego Gas and Electric and SoCal Gas — two of the companies that petitioned for higher ROE. “I know how they think about this issue,” he told me, asserting that the arguments the companies make to regulators do not match how they think about ROE internally.
During our interview, Ellis described the current state of utility regulation of ROE in California as “reprehensible,” “egregious,” “heartbreaking,” and “a huge injustice.”
In the analysis he submitted to the utility commission, Ellis not only makes the case that the average U.S. utility’s ROE is much higher than is necessary to attract capital, but also that the potential impacts to consumers of lowering it — i.e. the potential to hurt a utility’s credit rating and increase its cost of debt — would be outweighed by customer savings.
He argues that to justify their requests for higher ROEs, the utilities use forecasts from biased sources, cherry-pick and manipulate data, and make economically impossible assumptions, like that earnings will grow faster than GDP.
Stephen Jarvis, an assistant professor at the London School of Economics who has conducted research on ROE rates, has reached similar conclusions about them being excessively high. Nonetheless, he told me he sympathized with the challenge regulators face. He said there was no “right” answer for how to calculate the appropriate ROE. “Depending on the assumptions that you use, you can come up with quite different numbers for what a fair rate of return should be,” he said.
The sentiment echoes the preliminary decision the California Public Utilities Commission issued last week, when it observed that all of the proposals submitted in the proceeding were “dependent on subjective inputs and assumptions.”
Ellis said the decision contained a “smoking gun,” however, proving that the commission didn’t really do its job. Changes in ROE are supposed to reflect changes to a company’s risk profile, he said. The risk profile for Southern California Edison, which is facing lawsuits related to the Eaton Fire and already paying out hundreds of millions of dollars to survivors, has certainly changed in a different way than its peers. Regardless, the commission made the exact same recommendation for each utility to reduce ROE by 0.35%. “The Commission clearly is not looking at the evidence.”
There is likely some truth to that. “It’s more art than science,” Cliff Rechtschaffen, who served for six years on the California Public Utilities Commission, told me when I asked how the people in those seats attempt to calibrate ROE. He acknowledged there was a self-reinforcing element to the process — regulators look at where investors might go if the rate of return is too low, and use that to determine what the rate should be. “But the rates of return that are set in other jurisdictions are, in turn, influenced by the national utility market, which includes your own utility market,” he said.
Similarly, regulators rely on market analysts, investment advisors, investment bankers, and so on, who have an inherent interest in building up the market and ensuring healthy rates of return, he said. “That makes it harder to discern and do true price discovery.”
Rechtschaffen said he was glad that environmental and consumer advocates were bringing greater scrutiny to ROE, adding that it was the “right time” to do so. “Particularly in this environment where utilities have forecast that they’re going to be spending tens of billions of dollars on capital upgrades, do we need the same rates of return that we’ve seen?”
On ravenous data centers, treasured aluminum trash, and the drilling slump
Current conditions: The West Coast’s parade of storms continues with downpours along the California shoreline, threatening mudslides • Up to 10 inches of rain is headed for the Ozarks • Temperatures climbed beyond 50 degrees Fahrenheit in Greenland this week before beginning a downward slide.
The Department of Energy’s Loan Programs Office just announced a $1 billion loan to finance Microsoft’s restart of the functional Unit 1 reactor at the Three Mile Island nuclear plant. The funding will go to Constellation, the station’s owner, and cover the majority of the estimated $1.6 billion restart cost. If successful, it’ll likely be the nation’s second-ever reactor restart, assuming Holtec International’s revival of the Palisades nuclear plant goes as planned in the next few months. While the Trump administration has rebranded several loans brokered under its predecessor, this marks the first completely new deal sanctioned by the Trump-era LPO, a sign of Energy Secretary Chris Wright’s recent pledge to focus funding on nuclear projects. It’s also the first-ever LPO loan to reach conditional commitment and financial close on the same day.
“Constellation’s restart of a nuclear power plant in Pennsylvania will provide affordable, reliable, and secure energy to Americans across the Mid-Atlantic region,” Wright said in a statement. “It will also help ensure America has the energy it needs to grow its domestic manufacturing base and win the AI race.” Constellation’s stock soared in after-hours trading in response to the news. Holtec’s historic first restart in Michigan got the green light from regulators to come back online in July, as I reported in this newsletter at the time. But already another company is lining up to turn its defunct reactor back on: As I reported here in August, utility giant NextEra wants to revive its Duane Arnold nuclear station in Iowa. The push to restart older reactors reflects a growing need for electricity long before new reactors can come online. Meanwhile, next-generation reactors are plowing ahead. The nuclear startup Valar Atomics claimed this week to achieve criticality long before the July 4 deadline set in an Energy Department competition.
Over the next five years, American demand for electricity is set to grow by the equivalent of 15 times the peak demand of the entirety of New York City. That’s according to the latest annual forecast from the consultancy Grid Strategies. The growth — roughly sixfold what was forecast in 2022 — comes overwhelmingly from data centers, as shown by which regions expect the largest growth:

“The fact that these facilities are city-sized is a huge deal,” John Wilson, Grid Strategies’ vice president and the report’s lead author, told Canary Media. “That has huge implications if these facilities get canceled, or they get built and don’t have long service lives.” Mounting political opposition to data centers could make deals less certain. A Heatmap Pro survey in September found just 44% of Americans would welcome a data center opening nearby. And last week I wrote about how progressives in Congress are rallying around a crackdown on data centers.
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The contrast couldn’t be starker. In Washington, President Donald Trump rolled out the red carpet for Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, offering an opulent welcome to the White House and lashing out at reporters who asked about September 11 or the killing of journalist Jamal Khashoggi. In Belém, Brazil, meanwhile, former Vice President Al Gore tore into the team of delegates Saudi Arabia sent to the United Nations climate summit for “flexing its muscles” in negotiations about how to shift away from oil and gas. “Saudi Arabia appears to be determined to veto the effort to solve the climate crisis, only to protect their lavish income from selling the fossil fuels that are the principal cause of the climate crisis,” Gore told the Financial Times. “I hope that the rest of the world will stand up to this obscene greed and recklessness on the part of the kingdom.”
But the Trump meeting could yield some progress on clean energy. Among the top issues the White House listed in its read-out of the summit was the push to export American atomic energy technology to Saudi Arabia as the country looks to follow the United Arab Emirates in embracing nuclear power.
Facing growing needs for domestic sources of metal for the energy transition, the European Union is seeing its trash as treasure. On Tuesday, the European Commission proposed restricting exports of aluminum scrap amid what The Wall Street Journal called “concerns that rising outflows of the resource could leave Europe short of a critical input for its decarbonization efforts.” Speaking at the European Aluminum Summit, EU trade chief Maros Sefcovic referred to the exports as “leakage.” The proposal wouldn’t fully block sales of aluminum scrap overseas, but would adopt a “balanced” measure that ensures sufficient supplies and competitive prices in the single market. “Scrap is a strategic commodity given its important contribution to circularity and decarbonization, as production from secondary materials releases less emissions and is less energy intensive, as well as to our strategic autonomy,” Sefcovic said. The measure is set to be adopted by spring 2026.
In the U.S., the Biden administration made what Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin last year called a “big bet” on aluminum. The Trump administration slapped steep new tariffs on imported aluminum, though as our colleague Katie Brigham wrote, “aluminum producers rely on imports of these same materials to build their own plants. Tariffs on these vital construction materials — plus exorbitant levies on all goods from China — will make building new production facilities significantly costlier.”

The average number of active rigs per month that are drilling for oil and natural gas in the continental United States fell steadily over the past year. As of last month, the U.S. had 517 rigs in operation, down from a peak of 750 in the end of 2022. The number of oil-pumping rigs dropped 33% to 397 rigs, while gas-pumping rigs slid 23% to 120 rigs over the same period from December 2022 to October 2025. While the Energy Information Administration said the declining rig count “reflects operators’ responses to declining crude oil and natural gas prices,” the federal research agency said it’s also “improvement in drilling efficiencies,” meaning companies are getting more fuel out of existing wells.
It’s been a pattern in recent research on sustainability. Scientists look at methods that Indigenous groups have maintained as traditions only to find that approaches that have sustained throughout centuries or millennia are finding new value now. A study by the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa’s Hawaiʻi Institute of Marine Biology found that Native Hawaiian aquaculture systems — essentially fish ponds known as loko iʻa — effectively shielded fish populations from the negative impacts of climate change, demonstrating resilience and bolstering local food security. “Our study is one of the first in academic literature to compare the temperatures between loko iʻa and the surrounding bay and how these temperature differences may be reflected in potential fish productivity,” lead author Annie Innes-Gold, a recent PhD graduate from the university, said in a press release. “We found that although rising water temperature may lead to declines in fish populations, loko iʻa fish populations were more resilient.”