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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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On Palisades’ progress, Taliban minerals, and New York’s climate superfund
Current conditions: Tropical Depression Five is barreling northwest from the Caribbean to Houston • In the Pacific, Hurricane Karina has strengthened into a Category 4 storm, but it’s unlikely to make landfall anywhere • The surface temperature of the Yellow Sea is nearly 85 degrees Fahrenheit, fueling storms across South Korea.
President Donald Trump is among the few politicians in America willing to stand 10-toes-down in defense of the need to build out more data centers. In a post Monday on Truth Social, the president admonished communities that reject data centers as misguided and foolish. “The only reason that communities throughout the U.S.A. should not want data centers is if they want to end up being backwards and poor,” Trump wrote. “If they want to be successful and rich, with far lower taxes and jobs all over the place, let data reign.” Still, he said “plenty of other places” want them. “If we kill the Golden Goose, you will only have yourselves to blame,” he wrote. “China could not be happier with this anti data center movement.” It’s not a popular stance. Heatmap Pro’s latest polling shows that three-quarters of Americans now oppose data centers built in their backyards.
The U.S. District Court for the Northern District of New York struck down the state’s Climate Change Superfund Act on Monday, ruling that the 2024 law is invalid under the federal Clean Air Act. The law set up a cost recovery scheme whereby fossil fuel companies would pay into a fund used to finance climate change adaptation-related infrastructure projects. The state’s argument rested in part on the Trump administration’s decision earlier this year to rescind the Environmental Protection Agency’s endangerment finding on greenhouse gases, which gave the agency authority to regulate climate pollution. That move “cannot be reconciled” with the administration’s argument that the CAA preempts New York’s law, the state said. Judge Brenda K. Sannes dismissed that reasoning in her decision, citing the Supreme Court’s ruling in American Electric Power v. Connecticut from 2011, which, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo put it, “established companies’ protection from federal public nuisance claims over greenhouse gas emissions. That decision sprang from the Court’s earlier 2007 decision that the Clean Air Act covers greenhouse gas emissions — which the EPA is now contesting.”
The case was one of at least four the Trump administration has pursued against states attempting to make fossil fuel companies cover the costs of adapting to climate change. Judges have already ruled against its attempts to prevent Hawaii and Michigan from suing fossil fuel companies, however a case against a similar superfund law in Vermont is still pending. “New York’s law would have expropriated $75 billion from energy companies around the world during an energy emergency and in direct defiance of American foreign policy and federal law,” Adam Gustafson, principal deputy assistant attorney general of the Justice Department’s Energy and Natural Resources Division and the administration’s lead attorney in this case, said in a statement. “We will continue to fight for affordable, reliable energy for all Americans.”
A sign of how much an industry is really booming is whether startups begin popping up to provide ancillary services. Here’s a prime example of the artificial intelligence buildout’s energy boom: The AI energy software provider Verse told Heatmap exclusively for this newsletter that it now has 30 gigawatts of power under its platform’s management. The company’s flagship product, Aria, is an intelligence platform for data center companies that brings utility bills, contracts, power purchase agreements, and live power usage data under one dashboard. The company also helps manage on-site assets such as batteries. “You can't solve for speed, cost, risk, and carbon while your supply contracts, your load, and your flexible assets sit in separate silos,” Seyed Madaeni, Verse’s chief executive and co-founder, said in a statement.
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When Holtec International starts the Palisades nuclear plant back up, the facility in western Michigan will be the first in the nation to return to life after a permanent shutdown. Once complete, the Palisades restart will set off a series of other projects, including some to repower defunct nuclear plants in Pennsylvania and Iowa. That makes each milestone in the Palisades project notable — but the one it reached Monday is particularly promising. Holtec started loading fuel into the reactor, setting the stage for it to return to service potentially before the end of the year, months before the official March 2027 start date. “Loading fuel into the Palisades reactor is an important milestone and a reflection of the tremendous effort of the men and women who have brought this plant to this point,” Fadi Diya, Holtec’s chief nuclear officer, said in a statement. Palisades’ completion won’t just kick off more restarts. Holtec also plans to build its first two 300-megawatt small modular reactors at the site. Based on the industry’s standard pressurized water technology, the company has received hundreds of millions from the Department of Energy to support its construction.

Commerce can, at times, be the ultimate salve. Raw materials flowed from the U.S. to British factories even after the American Revolution and the War of 1812. Japanese and German automobiles dominate American roads decades after those nations’ defeats in World War II. As memories of war fade, Americans buy nearly $200 billion in Vietnamese goods each year, helping to transform the Southeast Asian country into a top manufacturing hub. Now the Taliban is making its pitch to Washington’s wallet. The Islamist group now leading Afghanistan said it would “absolutely” welcome U.S. investments in the rural, mountainous, and underdeveloped Central Asian country’s mining, infrastructure, or agriculture industries. “Relations between Afghanistan and the United States should not be assessed through the lens of the past 20 years of war, but rather on the basis of future co-operation,” Taliban foreign minister Amir Khan Muttaqi told the Financial Times at his office in Kabul. “Our economic policy is open.”
Meanwhile, from China to the U.S., lithium producers are posting what Bloomberg called “bumper profits.” Demand for energy storage is soaring, especially as countries seek to insulate themselves from the effects of the Iran War energy shock. As a result, Chinese companies such as Tianqi Lithium and Ganfeng Lithium Group reported their strongest net income in three years during the first six months of 2026. North Carolina-based Albemarle said global lithium demand had grown 45% compared to a year earlier. Australia’s PLS Group, meanwhile, “swung a $377 million profit in the 12 months to June 30 from a loss the year before,” the newswire reported.
You don’t need to be an expert in emerging markets to recognize the potential for solar. Countries that haven’t yet extended grid networks into rural areas can electrify villages using panels that are increasingly cheap and flooding into places such as sub-Saharan Africa, as I told you last week. You won’t need deep connections in those countries to start investing in that renewable energy potential, either. The startup Odyssey Energy Solutions, as my colleague Katie Brigham put it, “acts as a middleman between local installers and global capital providers that want exposure to developing markets but typically wouldn’t take the risk of financing small companies in unfamiliar environments.” This morning, the company told Katie exclusively, it’s announcing that it has raised another $74 million to fund its buildout.
Across the Global South, distributed energy is “leapfrogging a centralized grid,” Odyssey’s cofounder told Heatmap.
As old and increasingly strained as the U.S. electric grid is, Americans can still mostly count on it to keep the lights on. The average U.S. resident experiences just a few hours of power outages each year thanks to the country’s sprawling electricity distribution system. But that level of reliability is far from standard globally. Across parts of Africa, Asia, and South America, grids can be fragmented, undersupplied, and unreliable, forcing businesses to turn to expensive diesel generators for backup power — or even as their primary source of electricity when the grid can’t reliably reach them.
But as energy demand surges across the Global South, diesel prices rise with the ongoing Strait of Hormuz closure, and costs for solar and batteries continue to fall, the economics of energy in emerging markets are rapidly shifting. Commercial and industrial customers are increasingly turning to distributed solar as a reliable, affordable supplement — or alternative — to a conventional grid connection. The problem is that the small and midsize local companies capable of building these projects often lack the cash to purchase panels and batteries upfront. Equipment suppliers, meanwhile are often reluctant to extend them credit because they see the small businesses as too risky.
Odyssey Energy Solutions is built to solve that disconnect. Founded in 2017, the startup acts as a middleman between local installers and global capital providers that want exposure to developing markets but typically wouldn’t take the risk of financing small companies in unfamiliar environments. After raising a $15 million Series A in 2023, the company announced on Tuesday that it has closed a $74 million fundraising round — $27 million of equity, $47 million of debt — to expand its financing and procurement platform, deepen its presence in core markets such as Nigeria and India, and widen its business in Mexico and adjacent Latin American countries.
“It’s the same story as cell phones leapfrogging landlines,” Emily McAteer, Odyssey’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “It’s distributed energy leapfrogging a centralized grid.”
Today the company has about 6,000 commercial and industrial solar installers on its platform across more than 50 countries, and has facilitated over $3.6 billion in financing for distributed energy projects. Odyssey is planning to use its latest funding to expand beyond solar into other offerings, including financing batteries for electric two- and three-wheelers such as motorcycles and rickshaws, common modes of transit in many of its markets.
Whether it’s solar or motorcycles, Odyssey’s model works much the same way: The company places equipment orders on behalf of installers, letting them pay off the cost over time, after their own customers pay them first. While Odyssey places many small orders rather than large bulk orders with suppliers, its high transaction volume gives it significant purchasing power, allowing it to negotiate far better prices than a small business could. That lets Odyssey earn a margin on the equipment it sells while still offering installers a better deal than they would be able to secure independently.
For the installer, McAteer explained, it’s a pretty straightforward process, “You come to Odyssey’s procurement platform; you upload [the materials you need]. We come back, give you some options and good pricing on the [photovoltaic panels], the inverters, the batteries. You buy from us; you put a little bit down — a small deposit — and then the rest of the payment is due once you’ve gone and built your system, you’ve commissioned, and you’ve been paid by your client.”
Fronting that equipment cost requires significant debt on Odyssey’s own balance sheet. But because installers repay Odyssey once their projects are built, debt is a cheaper way to secure that working capital than equity, which is why it makes up the bulk of this latest funding round. McAteer says the company expects to raise another $50 million in debt over the next six months specifically to fund the extended payment terms it offers installers.
Working with thousands of these small and medium sized businesses also gives Odyssey another valuable asset: a wealth of data on their projects and performance over time. In 2021, the company acquired remote monitoring and controls startup Ferntech, giving it visibility into things like a solar project’s energy output and how customers are using that power. The data then feeds into Odyssey’s underwriting tools, giving prospective investors and lenders a way to evaluate which installers are creditworthy.
That matters because while Odyssey can help small businesses get equipment, these installers still require longer-term institutional capital from the likes of banks or development finance institutions to build their projects and support their ongoing operations. By giving capital providers a window into which installers are reliable and what projects perform well, Odyssey helps derisk the fragmented distributed energy market.
The company’s timing is certainly fortuitous. In Nigeria, one of Odyssey’s primary markets, the cost of diesel has risen over 93% in a matter of months this year due to supply disruptions in the Middle East. That’s thrown the country’s energy markets into disarray, as the country spends roughly three times as much on power from backup diesel generators as it does on grid electricity.
“There is more diesel generator capacity than there are power plants connected to the grid,” McAteer said of Nigeria. “So you already have distributed energy resources — just not renewable resources — powering the grid.” The near doubling of diesel prices has made solar and storage more compelling than ever for the country and the continent as a whole. Governments in many African countries are already offering cash incentives to distributed energy developers once their projects are up and running as part of a broader electrification push backed by a $30 billion joint commitment between the World Bank and the African Development Bank.
India, another core market for Odyssey, has also set ambitious clean electricity goals, aiming to install 500 gigawatts of non-fossil capacity by 2030, while also requiring solar cells to be manufactured domestically. At the same time, the country’s booming data center buildout is poised to drive up electricity demand, putting strain on an already unreliable grid that also depends on backup diesel power. Together, these trends are fueling a solar surge in the country — a wave that Odyssey wants to capture. India is now on track to become the world’s second largest solar market by annual installations this year, according to BloombergNEF — overtaking the U.S. and trailing only China.
“Pretty much in any market where we work, there’s just a lot happening that’s all converging around distributed energy as the future,” McAteer told me. If she’s right, some of the nations with the world’s weakest grids could be the ones best positioned to build what comes next.
A bill awaiting Governor Gavin Newsom’s signature would require utilities to at least offer to subsidize home electrification.
Going into this final stretch of the summer, I’m keeping an eye on California. Today is the last day for the state legislature to pass bills as part of its 2026 session, and lawmakers have already sent some interesting clean energy proposals to Governor Gavin Newsom’s desk.
On Friday, the legislature passed the Home Energy Choice Act, a bill supporting the transition to all-electric homes in the state, which builds on a growing set of policies and programs I’ve been writing about called “non-pipeline alternatives.”
Natural gas companies are constantly replacing and expanding the pipelines that deliver gas to people’s homes, but these kinds of investments are starting to look less prudent in states that are trying to transition off of fossil fuels. Utilities recover the costs of pipelines over decades through the rates their customers pay; but as people start to electrify their homes, there will be fewer customers to absorb those expenses, risking ballooning energy bills. Non-pipeline alternative programs typically require utilities to consider options for deferring or even avoiding these investments.
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Several states have created pilot programs that enable utilities to take the money they would have spent replacing an aging pipeline and instead use it to help customers go electric. Two years ago, California lawmakers authorized such a pilot focused on decarbonizing entire neighborhoods, but the implementation has been slow. The deadline for utilities to submit proposals for the first round of pilot projects isn’t until next April.
The Home Energy Choice Act would complement that program. Whereas the pilots are designed to work around replacing gas mains, the larger pipes that run down the middle of streets, the new bill would target gas service lines, the smaller pipes that connect individual homes to the mains.
In some ways, the new bill is more aggressive than the existing pilot program. In the case of the pilots, the utility has to get 67% of a neighborhood onboard before seeking approval from the utility commission to decarbonize. The new program would set no such threshold. Every time a utility identifies a service line that needs to be replaced, it will have to offer the customer at the end of the line a financial incentive to electrify instead. If Governor Newsom signs the bill, it will be the first law in the country to require investor-owned utilities to offer their customers non-pipeline alternatives.
Still, it’s entirely up to the customer whether or not to accept the incentive, so it’s unclear how effective it will be. The bill doesn’t specify how much money the utility has to offer, punting that decision to the state’s regulators. But it does say the incentive has to be lower than the average cost of a service line replacement so that it creates net savings for the utility — and therefore for the utility’s ratepayers. Service line replacements average $35,000 to $55,000 in California, according to an evaluation of the Home Energy Choice Act by University of California, Los Angeles, researchers. Earthjustice and the Natural Resources Defense Council, the environmental groups that backed the bill, propose a base incentive of $15,000 per home, with a bump to $20,000 for homes in disadvantaged communities.
While that might sound substantial, it’s not going to be enough, in many cases, to cover the entire cost of heat pumps, an electric water heater, an electric or induction stove, and an electric clothes dryer. The UCLA study pins average costs for whole-home electrification in California at upwards of $25,000.
Homeowners will be able to combine the incentive with other state subsidies, but that can get complicated. One of the biggest challenges with these kinds of programs is that planning a whole-home electrification project is essentially a full time job.
Last fall, I wrote about an incentive program run by the utility Con Edison in New York State called Electric Advantage. It’s similar to California’s neighborhood pilots, in that it targets gas mains instead of service lines. If all the homeowners served by a main agree to go electric, ConEd will cover 100% of the cost of replacing their gas-powered appliances with electric versions, plus installing insulation and air sealing. My story was about Julie Liu, a contractor the utility hires to manage these projects. Liu fronts the cost of the retrofit and handles all of the scheduling and coordination between electricians, plumbers, insulation specialists, and other building professionals. She braids together various incentives to get the job done for as little money as possible. And what I learned in writing about her is that she was basically one of a kind — ConEd hadn’t been able to find anyone else to do what she did.
That leads me to one of my big questions about this California bill: Will the gas companies manage the retrofits themselves, contract with third parties like Liu, or just give the money directly to homeowners? The bill doesn't specify, so that’s something utility regulators will have to work out if Newsom signs it into law.
I also wonder about relying on utilities to sell the idea of electrification to customers, especially since not all natural gas companies in California offer electricity service. How hard will they try to lose business? The bill does contain some safeguards to ensure the companies make a concerted effort, such as requiring that they notify customers of the climate and health benefits of going electric and of additional incentives they might be eligible for. The UCLA report recommends that regulators create additional incentives to get utilities on board, such as giving them a generous rate of return on the cost of the program.
Despite these questions, the bill looks well-suited for this moment of concerns about energy affordability, with its focus on reducing capital spending and maintaining customer choice. Newsom has until September 30 to veto it or sign it into law.