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I caught up with Brett Christophers, the professor who argued in The New York Times that the Inflation Reduction Act is a gift to a secretive group of financial firms.

To the extent that they’re aware of it, American progressives are generally pretty happy with President Joe Biden’s flagship climate law, the Inflation Reduction Act.
The I.R.A. is slated to cut U.S. greenhouse-gas pollution up to 40% below its all-time high. It’s the centerpiece of Biden’s unprecedented experiment to revive industrial policy with a climate-friendly bent.
But what if it will have a tragic and unforeseen consequence? Earlier this week, Brett Christophers, a geography professor at Uppsala University in Sweden, argued in The New York Times that the I.R.A.’s green subsidies will backfire. The law will “accelerate the growing private ownership of U.S. infrastructure,” he warned, “dismantling” FDR’s legacy and leading to a “wholesale transformation of the national landscape of infrastructure ownership.”
Christophers is particularly worried that the law will enable a group of companies called “alternative asset managers,” who are the subject of his new book, Our Lives in Their Portfolios. These secretive firms own hundreds of billions of dollars’ worth of highways, tunnels, water systems, and power plants worldwide, and Christophers argues that they wield a huge amount of control over our daily lives.
I am sympathetic to his argument — the creeping privatization of America’s roads, tunnels, and water systems is a big problem — but I am far less sure than he is that the I.R.A. will affect that trend. The climate law’s subsidies will mostly go to the energy and industrial sectors, and those parts of the economy are already overwhelmingly privately owned. For the first time ever, the I.R.A. includes “direct pay” subsidies that will allow governments and nonprofits to receive federal money when they build renewables.
I called Christophers to discuss his concerns about the I.R.A, why it might accelerate asset managers’ power, and what a better option might look like. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
So I was trying to make three arguments — and they span not just the book that’s just come out, but another book I’ve been working on about the political economy of the energy transition.
The first thing I was trying to get across in the piece is an argument about the growing influence of a particular set of financial institutions — asset-management institutions.
These are crucially not necessarily the types of asset managers that everyone talks about. Typically, the conversation is all about the BlackRocks, the Vanguards, the State Streets, which are the big holders of large proportions of basically every company that exists. Most of the funds that those big entities manage are passive index funds, which invest in proportion to the scale that companies represent within particular market indices. So if Exxon represents 1% of an index, then 1% of the fund is invested in Exxon, and so on. That's where most of the attention is focused.
What my book’s about is a completely different corner of the asset-management world, which are the active asset managers who increasingly own real assets. The ones I focus on in the book own housing of all shapes and sizes, and then everything that comes under the umbrella of infrastructure — transportation infrastructure, hospitals and schools, municipal water systems, and then all types of energy infrastructure. BlackRock dabbles in this, but the really big players are companies like Brookfield, Macquarie, and Blackstone.
My argument is that, actually, these are the guys that are much more consequential for people’s everyday lives. They determine what sort of condition these infrastructures are in — how much we pay in terms of water rates, or tenants pay in rents, or so on. These are the guys we should be focusing more on, but they’ve been kind of ignored.
Some of them are public, some are private. But even if they’re public, finding out much about what they’re doing is very difficult because all the investments occur through private funds domiciled in the Caymans or Delaware or Luxembourg. It’s a very, very secretive business.
So part of what I’m trying to do is literally just make people aware that these guys are out there and that energy is an important part of what they’re doing. [The asset manager] Brookfield, for example, probably has the fastest growing renewable portfolio in the world right now.
The second argument is that the approach that the world has right now to climate change — which is to put the energy transition in the private sector’s hands, albeit with subsidy and government-support mechanisms — is not working and will not work.
There’s various ways of substantiating that it’s not working. The International Energy Agency says that we need to go from $300 billion of clean-energy investment to $1.3 trillion straight away, and keep it there for the next decade. And it’s increasing now, but only in $50 billion a year chunks, rather than what we need.
And that’s because at root, renewable energy — the ownership and operation of renewable-energy-generating facilities — is actually just not a great business in terms of profitability. Their revenues and profits are very volatile because of the volatility of electricity prices. And if you talk to not only renewable developers, but also the people that finance new solar and wind facilities — the banks that put up the $300 million to buy the turbines — then you hear that the volatility of [electricity] pricing exerts a very kind of chilling effect on investment.
So when everyone obsesses about the fact that renewables are now cheaper than conventional generation, they’re looking at the wrong metric. Price is not what we should be looking at, profit is. And these businesses are just not very profitable.
So then the third argument is that of all the private-sector actors, asset managers are the very worst to rely on. They are particularly inappropriate owners of essential infrastructure that society relies on.
To cut a long story short, a basic reason is that the investment that Macquarie and Brookfield undertake is through investment vehicles that have a fixed-term life.
Yeah. When they buy these infrastructure assets, the only thing they’re thinking about is how they can sell them quickly, so that they can return the capital to the pension fund that gave them the money to invest in the first place. Because of the way the industry works, they’re disincentivized to carry out long-term capital expenditure — there’s inherent short-termism.
I was trying to compress all these things into the piece, which I obviously failed to do, but to the extent that it gets people talking about these problems, then I feel like I’ve succeeded.
That’s a good question. My basic answer is that the word “‘accelerate” is a very important one. As you’re no doubt aware, specifically in the energy realm, in energy-generating facilities, it’s not like privatization is a new thing there, right?
This has been going on for a long time. I guess it comes back to a strong belief I have, which is that the ongoing and accelerated privatization of these types of assets is generally not a good thing.
I would say two things to that. The first is that, we’ve obviously been at an important conjuncture in the U.S. for the last couple years, where the existing [renewable and EV] credits were being wound down. At the same time, there were proposals for a Green New Deal on the national level. So it felt like there was a possibility — arguably even the last possibility — of a different political economy of energy. So in a way, the IRA hammered the nail in the coffin of a substantially different future.
Second, in many other countries, energy has been more publicly owned than it is in the U.S. And the experience of other sectors and other parts of the world shows that the more you concentrate ownership in the hands of private entities, the more that those players increase their capacity to dictate the terms of what’s going on in the sector. They can influence — if not decide — the way that markets are constructed in the sector. You only have to look at the work of the legal scholar Shelly Welton, who has shown how regional wholesale power markets in the U.S. are still dominated by fossil fuels. What we think of as neutral mechanisms of market operation, the algorithms that award capacity and so on, are shaped by particular interests.
I hear that. But I think it’s important to distinguish what I think from another high-profile criticism of the IRA. I very rarely look at Twitter because I don’t find it healthy, but one thing that I see there all the time is this blanket critique of the derisking of investment. [Derisking is a term for when the government takes on some downside risk from private companies in order to persuade them to make investments in something “good,” like renewables or EVs. -Robinson]
That’s not my position at all. Give me a choice between derisking and not derisking, and from a climate perspective, I would always choose derisking. I would much rather the investment happens and Blackrock makes a killing than the investment doesn’t happen and we get stuck with fossil fuels.
To me, that’s not the choice. I think the blanket critique of derisking is naive in the sense that it either magically assumes we’re going to get state ownership of energy, or that the investment will happen anyway without the derisking. My whole book coming out next year is a critique of that argument, because the investment won’t happen. It absolutely won’t happen if you don’t derisk because of the profit constraints. You absolutely need that derisking.
My argument is that even with all of the support from various tax credits, and even with the historic — and amazing — reduction in [renewable] technology costs over the last 20 years, the private sector is still failing. That’s my argument. That’s why I believe we’re not going to reach where we need to be as long as we stick with this capital-centric model. But if you assume that we’re stuck with a private-sector-led model, then absolutely the IRA is a good thing, absolutely it is. You need that subsidization; I don’t disagree with that at all. Does that make sense?
Exactly.
You’ll get that, and I think you’ll get a modest amount of public-sector involvement, but in the big scheme of things I think it’ll be trivial. I think it will still amount to a transition that’s so much slower than we need.
For sure. If it wasn’t for direct pay, it would’ve been a nonstarter. I totally believe that.
I think that’s fair. I guess I would put it a slightly different way. I think I’m comparing it to a counterfactual under which we — by which I mean globally, but also within the U.S. — build renewables at something closer to the rate that is needed. So the IRA amounts, politically, within the U.S. context, to a degree of success, but it’s a degree of success within a framework that is failing.
I totally understand that. I think it comes down to what one’s counterfactual is. If your counterfactual is what was genuinely politically feasible in the U.S. context, then I can totally see that the IRA constitutes a significant success.
If your counterfactual is — and this may sound completely stupid — a situation in which we make really significant, genuine progress on changing what I see as the failing macro approach to the energy transition, then it doesn’t constitute success.
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Batteries can only get so small so fast. But there’s more than one way to get weight out of an electric car.
Batteries are the bugaboo. We know that. Electric cars are, at some level, just giant batteries on wheels, and building those big units cheaply enough is the key to making EVs truly cost-competitive with fossil fuel-burning trucks and cars and SUVs.
But that isn’t the end of the story. As automakers struggle to lower the cost to build their vehicles amid a turbulent time for EVs in America, they’re looking for any way to shave off a little expense. The target of late? Plain old wires.
Last month, when General Motors had to brace its investors for billions in losses related to curtailing its EV efforts and shifting factories back to combustion, it outlined cost-saving measures meant to get things moving in the right direction. While much of the focus was on using battery chemistries like lithium ion phosphate, otherwise known as LFP, that are cheaper to build, CEO Mary Barra noted that the engineers on every one of the company’s EVs were working “to take out costs beyond the battery,” of which cutting wiring will be a part.
They are not alone in this obsession. Coming into a do-or-die year with the arrival of the R2 SUV, Rivian said it had figured out how to cut two miles of wires out of the design, a coup that also cuts 44 pounds from the vehicle’s weight (this is still a 5,000-pound EV, but every bit counts). Ford has become obsessed with figuring out smarter and cheaper ways for its money-hemorrhaging EV division to build cars; the company admitted, after tearing down a Tesla Model 3 to look inside, that its Mustang Mach-E EV had a mile of extra and possibly unnecessary wiring compared to its rival.
A bunch of wires sounds like an awfully mundane concern for cars so sophisticated. But while every foot adds cost and weight, the obsession with stripping out wiring is about something deeper — the broad move to redefine how cars are designed and built.
It so happens that the age of the electric vehicle is also the age of the software-defined car. Although automobiles were born as purely mechanical devices, code has been creeping in for decades, and software is needed to manage the computerized fuel injection systems and on-board diagnostic systems that explain why your Check Engine light is illuminated. Tesla took this idea to extremes when it routed the driver’s entire user interface through a giant central touchscreen. This was the car built like a phone, enabling software updates and new features to be rolled out years after someone bought the car.
As Tesla ruled the EV industry in the 2010s, the smartphone-on-wheels philosophy spread. But it requires a lot of computing infrastructure to run a car on software, which adds complexity and weight. That’s why carmakers have spent so much time in the past couple of years talking about wires. Their challenge (among many) is to simplify an EV’s production without sacrificing any of its capability.
Consider what Rivian is attempting to do with the R2. As InsideEVs explains, electric cars have exploded in their need for electronic control units, the embedded computing brains that control various systems. Some models now need more than 100 to manage all the software-defined components. Rivian managed to sink the number to just seven, and thus shave even more cost off the R2, through a “zonal” scheme where the ECUs control all the systems located in their particular region of the vehicle.
Compared to an older, centralized system that connects all the components via long wires, the savings are remarkable. As Rivian chief executive RJ Scaringe posted on X: “The R2 harness improves massively over the R1 Gen 2 harness. Building on the backbone of our network architecture and zonal ECUs, we focused on ease of install in the plant and overall simplification through integrated design — less wires, less clips and far fewer splices!”
Legacy automakers, meanwhile, are racing to catch up. Even those that have built decent-selling quality EVs to date have not come close to matching the software sophistication of Tesla and Rivian. But they have begun to see the light — not just about fancy iPads in the cockpit, but also about how the software-defined vehicle can help them to run their factories in a simpler and cheaper way.
How those companies approach the software-defined car will define them in the years to come. By 2028, GM hopes to have finished its next-gen software platform that “will unite every major system from propulsion to infotainment and safety on a single, high-speed compute core,” according to Barra. The hope is that this approach not only cuts down on wiring and simplifies manufacturing, but also makes Chevys and Cadillacs more easily updatable and better-equipped for the self-driving future.
In that sense, it’s not about the wires. It’s about all the trends that have come to dominate electric vehicles — affordability, functionality, and autonomy — colliding head-on.
Europeans have been “snow farming” for ages. Now the U.S. is finally starting to catch on.
February 2015 was the snowiest month in Boston’s history. Over 28 days, the city received a debilitating 64.8 inches of snow; plows ran around the clock, eventually covering a distance equivalent to “almost 12 trips around the Equator.” Much of that plowed snow ended up in the city’s Seaport District, piled into a massive 75-foot-tall mountain that didn’t melt until July.
The Seaport District slush pile was one of 11 such “snow farms” established around Boston that winter, a cutesy term for a place that is essentially a dumpsite for snow plows. But though Bostonians reviled the pile — “Our nightmare is finally over!” the Massachusetts governor tweeted once it melted, an event that occasioned multiple headlines — the science behind snow farming might be the key to the continuation of the Winter Olympics in a warming world.
The number of cities capable of hosting the Winter Games is shrinking due to climate change. Of 93 currently viable host locations, only 52 will still have reliable winter conditions by the 2050s, researchers found back in 2024. In fact, over the 70 years since Cortina d’Ampezzo first hosted the Olympic Games in 1956, February temperatures in the Dolomites have warmed by 6.4 degrees Fahrenheit, according to Climate Central, a nonprofit climate research and communications group. Italian organizers are expected to produce more than 3 million cubic yards of artificial snow this year to make up for Mother Nature’s shortfall.
But just a few miles down the road from Bormio — the Olympic venue for the men’s Alpine skiing events as well as the debut of ski mountaineering next week — is the satellite venue of Santa Caterina di Valfurva, which hasn’t struggled nearly as much this year when it comes to usable snow. That’s because it is one of several European ski areas that have begun using snow farming to their advantage.
Like Ruka in Finland and Saas-Fee in Switzerland, Santa Caterina plows its snow each spring into what is essentially a more intentional version of the Great Boston Snow Pile. Using patented tarps and siding created by a Finnish company called Snow Secure, the facilities cover the snow … and then wait. As spring turns to summer, the pile shrinks, not because it’s melting but because it’s becoming denser, reducing the air between the individual snowflakes. In combination with the pile’s reduced surface area, this makes the snow cold and insulated enough that not even a sunny day will cause significant melt-off. (Neil DeGrasse Tyson once likened the phenomenon to trying to cook an entire potato with a lighter; successfully raising the inner temperature of a dense snowball, much less a gigantic snow pile, requires more heat.)
Shockingly little snow melts during storage. Snow Secure reports a melt rate of 8% to 20% on piles that can be 50,000 cubic meters in size, or the equivalent of about 20 Olympic swimming pools. When autumn eventually returns, ski areas can uncover their piles of farmed snow and spread it across a desired slope or trail using snowcats, specialized groomers that break up and evenly distribute the surface. For Santa Caterina, the goal was to store enough to make a nearly 2-mile-long cross-country trail — no need to wait for the first significant snowfall of the season, which creeps later and later every year.
“In many places, November used to be more like a winter month,” Antti Lauslahti, the CEO of Snow Secure, told me. “Now it’s more like a late-autumn month; it’s quite warm and unpredictable. Having that extra few weeks is significant. When you cannot open by Thanksgiving or Christmas, you can lose 20% to 30% of the annual turnover.”
Though the concept of snow farming is not new — Lauslahti told me the idea stems from the Finnish tradition of storing snow over the summer beneath wood chips, once a cheap byproduct of the local logging industry — the company's polystyrene mat technology, which helps to reduce summer melt, is. Now that the technique is patented, Snow Secure has begun expanding into North America with a small team. The venture could prove lucrative: Researchers expect that by the end of the century, as many as 80% of the downhill ski areas in the U.S. will be forced to wait until after Christmas to open, potentially resulting in economic losses of up to $2 billion.
While there have been a few early adopters of snow farming in Wisconsin, Utah, and Idaho, the number of ski areas in the United States using the technique remains surprisingly low, especially given its many other upsides. In the States, the most common snow management system is the creation of artificial snow, which is typically water- and energy-intensive. Snow farming not only avoids those costs — which can also have large environmental tolls, particularly in the water-strapped West — but the super-dense snow farming produces is “really ideal” for something like the Race Centre at Canada’s Sun Peaks Resort, where top athletes train. Downhill racers “want that packed, harder, faster snow,” Christina Antoniak, the area’s director of brand and communications, told me of the success of the inaugural season of snow farming at Sun Peaks. “That’s exactly what stored snow produced for that facility.”
The returns are greatest for small ski areas, which are also the most vulnerable to climate change. While the technology is an investment — Antoniak ballparked that Sun Peaks spent around $185,000 on Snow Secure’s siding — the money goes further at a smaller park. At somewhere like Park City Mountain in Utah, stored snow would cover only a small portion of the area’s 140 miles of skiable routes. But it can make a major difference for an area down the road like the Soldier Hollow Nordic Center, which has a more modest 20 miles of cross-country trails.
In fact, the 2025-2026 winter season will be the Nordic Center’s first using Snow Secure’s technology. Luke Bodensteiner, the area’s general manager and chief of sport, told me that alpine ski areas are “all very curious to see how our project goes. There is a lot of attention on what we do, and if it works out satisfactorily, we might see them move into it.”
Ensuring a reliable start to the ski season is no small thing for a local economy; jobs and travel plans rely on an area being open when it says it will be. But for the Soldier Hollow Nordic Center, the stakes are even higher: The area is one of the planned host venues of the 2034 Salt Lake City Winter Games. “Based on historical weather patterns, our goal is to be able to make all the snow that we need for the entire Olympic trail system in two weeks,” Bodensteiner said, adding, “We envision having four or five of these snow piles around the venue in the summer before the Olympic Games, just to guarantee — in a worst case scenario — that we’ve got snow on the venue.”
Antoniak, at Canada’s Sun Peaks, also told me that their area has been a bit of a “guinea pig” when it comes to snow farming. “A lot of ski areas have had their eyes on Sun Peaks and how [snow farming is] working here,” she told me. “And we’re happy to have those conversations with them, because this is something that gives the entire industry some more resiliency.”
Of course, the physics behind snow farming has a downside, too. The same science saving winter sports is also why that giant, dirty pile of plowed snow outside your building isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Current conditions: A train of three storms is set to pummel Southern California with flooding rain and up to 9 inches mountain snow • Cyclone Gezani just killed at least four people in Mozambique after leaving close to 60 dead in Madagascar • Temperatures in the southern Indian state of Kerala are on track to eclipse 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
What a difference two years makes. In April 2024, New York announced plans to open a fifth offshore wind solicitation, this time with a faster timeline and $200 million from the state to support the establishment of a turbine supply chain. Seven months later, at least four developers, including Germany’s RWE and the Danish wind giant Orsted, submitted bids. But as the Trump administration launched a war against offshore wind, developers withdrew their bids. On Friday, Albany formally canceled the auction. In a statement, the state government said the reversal was due to “federal actions disrupting the offshore wind market and instilling significant uncertainty into offshore wind project development.” That doesn’t mean offshore wind is kaput. As I wrote last week, Orsted’s projects are back on track after its most recent court victory against the White House’s stop-work orders. Equinor's Empire Wind, as Heatmap’s Jael Holzman wrote last month, is cruising to completion. If numbers developers shared with Canary Media are to be believed, the few offshore wind turbines already spinning on the East Coast actually churned out power more than half the time during the recent cold snap, reaching capacity factors typically associated with natural gas plants. That would be a big success. But that success may need the political winds to shift before it can be translated into more projects.

President Donald Trump’s “drill, baby, drill” isn’t moving American oil extractors, whose output is set to contract this year amid a global glut keeping prices low. But production of natural gas is set to hit a record high in 2026, and continue upward next year. The Energy Information Administration’s latest short-term energy outlook expects natural gas production to surge 2% this year to 120.8 billion cubic feet per day, from 118 billion in 2025 — then surge again next year to 122.3 billion cubic feet. Roughly 69% of the increased output is set to come from Appalachia, Louisiana’s Haynesville area, and the Texas Permian regions. Still, a lot of that gas is flowing to liquified natural gas exports, which Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin explained could raise prices.
The U.S. nuclear industry has yet to prove that microreactors can pencil out without the economies of scale that a big traditional reactor achieves. But two of the leading contenders in the race to commercialize the technology just crossed major milestones. On Friday, Amazon-backed X-energy received a license from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission to begin commercial production of reactor fuel high-assay low-enriched uranium, the rare but potent material that’s enriched up to four times higher than traditional reactor fuel. Due to its higher enrichment levels, HALEU, pronounced HAY-loo, requires facilities rated to the NRC’s Category II levels. While the U.S. has Category I facilities that handle low-enriched uranium and Category III facilities that manage the high-grade stuff made for the military, the country has not had a Category II site in operation. Once completed, the X-energy facility will be the first, in addition to being the first new commercial fuel producer licensed by the NRC in more than half a century.
On Sunday, the U.S. government airlifted a reactor for the first time. The Department of Defense transported one of Valar Atomics’ 5-megawatt microreactors via a C-17 from March Air Reserve Base in California to Hill Air Force Base in Utah. From there, the California-based startup’s reactor will go to the Utah Rafael Energy Lab in Orangeville, Utah, for testing. In a series of posts on X, Isaiah Taylor, Valar’s founder, called the event “a groundbreaking unlock for the American warfighters.” His company’s reactor, he said, “can power 5,000 homes or sustain a brigade-scale” forward operating base.
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After years of attempting to sort out new allocations from the dwindling Colorado River, negotiators from states and the federal government disbanded Friday without a plan for supplying the 40 million people who depend on its waters. Upper-basin states Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, and New Mexico have so far resisted cutting water usage when lower-basin states California, Arizona, and Nevada are, as The Guardian put it, “responsible for creating the deficit” between supply and demand. But the lower-basin states said they had already agreed to substantial cuts and wanted the northern states to share in the burden. The disagreement has created an impasse for months; negotiators blew through deadlines in November and January to come up with a solution. Calling for “unprecedented cuts” that he himself described as “unbelievably harsh,” Brad Udall, senior water and climate research scientist at Colorado State University’s Colorado Water Center, said: “Mother Nature is not going to bail us out.”
In a statement Friday, Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum described “negotiations efforts” as “productive” and said his agency would step in to provide guidelines to the states by October.
Europe’s “regulatory rigidity risks undermining the momentum of the hydrogen economy. That, at least, is the assessment of French President Emmanuel Macron, whose government has pumped tens of billions of euros into the clean-burning fuel and promoted the concept of “pink hydrogen” made with nuclear electricity as the solution that will make energy technology take off. Speaking at what Hydrogen Insight called “a high-level gathering of CEOs and European political leaders,” Macron, who is term-limited in next year’s presidential election, said European rules are “a crazy thing.” Green hydrogen, the version of the fuel made with renewable electricity, remains dogged by high prices that the chief executive of the Spanish oil company Repsol said recently will only come down once electricity rates decrease. The Dutch government, meanwhile, just announced plans to pump 8 billion euros, roughly $9.4 billion, into green hydrogen.
Kazakhstan is bringing back its tigers. The vast Central Asian nation’s tiger reintroduction program achieved record results in reforesting an area across the Ili River Delta and Southern Balkhash region, planting more than 37,000 seedlings and cuttings on an area spanning nearly 24 acres. The government planted roughly 30,000 narrow-leaf oleaster seedlings, 5,000 willow cuttings, and about 2,000 turanga trees, once called a “relic” of the Kazakh desert. Once the forests come back, the government plans to eventually reintroduce tigers, which died out in the 1950s.