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If the “nuclear renaissance” is here, it’s happening only in certain kinds of places. California and New York aren’t getting new reactors capable of generating massive amounts of always-on, carbon-free power — instead projects are being completed and planned in Tennessee, Georgia, and Idaho. It’s not all red state friendliness to new development and blue state fears of nuclear waste either. It’s really about how electricity markets are organized across the United States.
There’s simply little new nuclear activity in the vast swaths of the country, like much of the Northeast and Midwest, Texas, and California, where electricity markets have been partially or completely “deregulated,” meaning that utilities largely buy electricity from generators and distribute it to consumers in something like a free market. Instead, nuclear projects are popping up in markets, like those in the South and Mountain West, where utilities still control both electricity generation (think power plants) and the distribution of that electricity to customers and where public power companies can still predominate in the market. In these areas, energy companies have the scale, authority, access to investment, and captive customer base necessary to embark on capital intensive projects like nuclear generators.
This is of note because the Department of Energy estimates that in order to decarbonize the power system, some 550 to 770 gigawatts of new clean firm capacity, meaning generators that can be turned on 24/7, will be necessary. While this could include geothermal, solar or wind paired with batteries, or pumped hydro, there’s already some 94 gigawatts of existing nuclear capacity that the Energy Department anticipates could scale to around 300 gigawatts by 2050.
Where that’s been expanded recently is not necessarily the parts of the country that have an aggressive mandate to decarbonize.
Consider Georgia’s Vogtle-3 reactor, the United States’ first new nuclear reactor in years. The end result is a staggering amount of non-carbon-emitting power, but delivered at an eye-wateringly high cost (some $16 billion overbudget) in a market set-up where an investor-owned, vertically integrated utility — Georgia Power, a subsidiary of Southern Company — is able to charge ratepayers for high construction costs. Or Watts Bar Unit 2, a new reactor built by the Tennessee Valley Authority, a government power company with a monopoly on electricity in Tennessee and bordering states (it had its own set of delays — for decades — and cost overruns).
A similar dynamic is at work when it comes to the next generation of nuclear technology. The Carbon Free Power Project is a planned set of small modular reactors at the Idaho National Laboratory that a coalition of Mountain West public utilities have been working on and hope to make operational by the end of the decade.
The dream of small modular reactors is that, by standardizing construction processes and parts and also by literally making the projects smaller, construction costs for nuclear power can be brought down as more projects get completed. That being said, the Carbon Free Power Project has still reported large cost escalations. And it’s doing so with funding from the Department of Energy that could amount to around $1.3 billion of the over $9 billion it’s expected to cost if the project actually starts generating power as scheduled in 2029. Some members of the coalition have already dropped out and the projected price of power generated by the reactors has increased.
That’s not a huge surprise. Cost is really what’s holding back nuclear power.
The great scaling of renewable power across the country has been, its advocates always like to say, a triumph of the market. Wind and solar projects, while expensive to set up, are cheap to operate over time, in part because they have no fuel costs, compared to thermal plants which must acquire and combust coal, oil, or natural gas. In fact, around two thirds of the price of natural gas-generated power comes from the fuel itself, which actually hasn’t been a huge problem for natural gas over the past 15 years since it’s been so cheap.
On the other hand, the vast majority of the costs of nuclear power come from the expense of building its generators, according to an analysis by Brian Potter, a fellow at the Institute for Progress and a contributor to Heatmap. With gargantuan capital requirements and long construction timelines, interest payments on financing can end up doubling the total costs of nuclear plants. When those costs get reflected in the price of nuclear energy on so-called deregulated electricity markets, it becomes uncompetitive.
Regulated markets are a different story, however. Utilities that own power plants have massive cash flows and legally mandated profits that let them borrow huge amounts of money at the lower costs necessary to finance large, capital-intensive construction projects like nuclear plants — and then put the costs directly into ratepayers' bills.
“These larger utilities have a larger balance sheet, they can carry a larger project on their books without it being a huge percentage of their net debt at any point in time,” Adam Stein, the director of the Nuclear Energy Innovation program at the Breakthrough Institute, told me. The Tennessee Valley Authority also has a large capacity to carry debt, while public power companies “have experience and expertise internally in how to engage in the DOE grant process,” Stein said.
Critics of deregulation and advocates for nuclear power argue that the way those markets work does not properly value power that is not variable, like wind and solar, and can keep their fuel stored on site, unlike gas, which relies on pipelines. Despite the unique role it can play on the grid, nuclear power still has to compete on the same playing field as other assets which are intermittent or rely on getting fuel, Stein explained.
But utilities that control both generation and distribution aren’t immune from market forces, even if they can withstand them better. One reason why deregulation took hold in much of the county is precisely because there was so much backlash to utilities’ nuclear power plant projects that were more expensive than projected and assumed more electricity demand than there actually was.
“The ratepayers were paying a lot for the nuclear plants, and they were unhappy with it,” Meredith Angwin, an energy analyst and critic of deregulation, told me. “Cost per megawatt of nuclear plants, it’s just rising. There’s a learning curve that makes things less expensive — with nuclear it goes the other way.” Figuring out exactly why this happened — and how to reverse it — has been the great challenge of the nuclear industry and energy policy experts.
Many advocates for increased use of nuclear power see new construction techniques, plant designs, and more well-tailored regulation as the answer to these rising costs.
And while there have been large declines in the cost of renewables over the past decade, wind and solar projects have run into cost issues recently thanks to economy-wide inflation and specific issues with supply chains.
Offshore wind in the United States, which currently has a few dozen megawatts of capacity that the Biden administration wants to scale up to 30 gigawatts, is facing a crisis of high costs, with wind developers demanding more money to complete projects and even threatening to cancel them altogether, lest they get access to more subsidies. It’s a story we’ve heard before.
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Europe’s heat wave has finally ended — and good riddance. The continent recorded at least 1,300 excess deaths over the past week, according to the World Health Organization. Mortuaries in Paris and other cities were overwhelmed.
North America will now get its turn with summertime heat: At the end of this week, New York, Philadelphia, and other cities down the East Coast — including several where World Cup knock-out games will be played — could see their hottest temperatures since 2012.
As I wrote last week, these bouts of extreme heat are caused by climate change. Severe and record-breaking heat waves are one of anthropogenic global warming’s clearest and most indisputable symptoms.
But as I also wrote last week, Europe and North America have very different ways of dealing with extreme heat. Most Americans have air conditioners, but they remain rare in Europe — and especially in northwestern Europe, including France, Germany, and the United Kingdom.
Since last week, I have read countless explanations about why Europeans don’t have air conditioning at the same rates as Americans — or even Canadians. Perhaps Americans and Europeans have a different relationship to suffering, goes one theory, or maybe the European left has managed to politicize air conditioning in a way that the American left has never tried to do. The cultural divide here is more real than I once would have thought: In Paris, the deputy mayor chided Americans for even asking about Europe’s AC use; she argued air conditioning “contributes and aggravates” to air pollution and climate change. In Florida, meanwhile, we name elementary schools after the inventor of mechanical refrigeration.
Throughout all of this, I’ve assumed that Europeans would purchase air conditioning as the warming climate demands it. Much like the Pacific Northwest, where AC adoption lagged the rest of the United States for decades, much of Western Europe used to enjoy a climate where AC was unnecessary. That changed in Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia after the 2021 heat dome. Now that summertime highs are rising in Europe, too, it seemed obvious that people would go out and buy window unit air conditioners — and where they can’t buy them because of local laws, they’ll push for reform.
It had not occurred to me, though, that a simpler obstacle might be blocking Europe’s adoption of AC. Jonas Nahm, a professor of industrial strategy at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, wrote in with a question: What if it’s the windows?
Do you know about Europe’s superior windows? Unlike the United States, where most of our windows hang on a sash and open vertically, the dominant form of window in Germany, Austria, France, Italy, and the rest of the Blue Banana are tilt-turn windows. This distinctive form of fenestration has a dual-action hinge, meaning it can tilt, opening at the top to let in light or air; and turn, swinging fully open on its hinges.
Tilt-turn windows are superior in most respects to our American sash windows or casements. Because they close more securely, they provide better protection against the elements; because you can swing them into a room and access both sides of a pane, they are easier to clean; and because you can tilt them from the bottom and crack them open at the top, they can ventilate a room without creating a draft. They are also ubiquitous in western Europe. Asked once what Germany meant to her, Germany’s former Chancellor Angela Merkel replied: “I think of well-sealed windows. No other country can make such well-sealed and nice windows.”
They are superior in all respects, I would say — except for one. When Americans in older buildings want to get an air conditioner, we go and buy a window unit, then we slide up the sash window and install it. But tilt-turn windows are not so accommodating. Those who have them must instead go and buy a portable AC unit that sits entirely inside a room, snake its hose out the top of the window, and then either purchase a fabric barrier or jerry-rig towels to seal off the crevices.
If you can’t buy a window unit, in other words, then your air conditioning options narrow. You either have to install an unsightly portable AC unit. Or you have to retrofit your entire home and install mini-splits — a far more expensive renovation that may not even be possible in historic or rental buildings.
Can windows alone explain Europe’s differing approach to air conditioning? It certainly explains a gap I’ve noticed in the discourse, where some Europeans seem to see air conditioning as an exorbitant luxury and Americans see it as, well, just another $250 purchase. It matters, too, that most Europeans heat their homes with radiators, meaning there is no forced-air ductwork system that a central air system can piggyback on. (Of course, my 100-year-old apartment building has radiators, too — but we have sash windows, and therefore window units.)
As it happens, I’ve lived in a home in the United States that had tilt-turn windows. An old German landlord of mine installed them in about half the house. We had window units too, but we stuck them in the few rooms that still had sash windows.
But of course, maybe what you don't have always seems more exotic to you. Not so long ago, I found myself in a smoky Berlin bar talking with a German about how much I liked and respected their windows. My companion was confused and asked me what windows were like in America, and I pantomimed opening a sash window and sticking my head out the bottom.
He was thrilled. Wait, he replied, just like in the movies?
I promise tomorrow's newsletter will not be about windows or air conditioning.
Monday’s Supreme Court decision will give Trump sweeping powers over the agency he already effectively controls.
The Supreme Court on Monday morning effectively OK-ed the firing of commissioners at independent agencies with no showing of cause, overturning a 90-plus-year-old precedent and granting the president seemingly vast powers to reshape the federal regulatory state. That likely includes agencies crucial to energy planning and governance, including the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission and the Nuclear Regulatory Commission (though not, notably, the Federal Reserve Board of Governors).
Harvard Law School professor Ari Peskoe argued in an amicus brief for the case alongside a bipartisan gaggle of 11 former FERC commissioners that deciding in the president’s favor on this case “would bulldoze the structural supports that Congress built into ratemaking commissions to protect its price-setting power from abuse,” protections that “foster regulatory stability for industries investing in essential infrastructure.”
So what’s left of that stability following the Supreme Court’s decision? “It’s been 3+ hours and the President has yet to fire a FERC Commissioner. So no immediate effect,” Peskoe told me in an email.
The case stemmed from Trump’s firing of Rebecca Slaughter, a member of the Federal Trade Commission, because her presence on the Commission would, he said, be “inconsistent with my Administration’s priorities.” Slaughter sued to be reinstated under a precedent established in the 1935 case Humphrey’s Executor v. the United States, in which the Supreme Court ruled that the Constitution did not give the president “illimitable power of removal” over government officials. On Monday, the court disagreed, deciding instead that the President should have wide discretion over the composition of agencies like the FTC, which “unquestionably exercises executive power and must therefore be controlled by the Chief Executive,” Chief Justice John Roberts wrote in his opinion for the majority.
In her dissent on the decision, which split 6-3 along the usual partisan lines, Justice Sonia Sotomayor listed FERC and the NRC as among the “dozens of independent commissions are now likely to become purely executive agencies, shifting tremendous power over broad swaths of American life into the President’s hands.”
Agencies like FERC tend not to be as explicitly politicized or partisan as, say, the Environmental Protection Agency, which is led by a single administrator who serves at the pleasure of the president, or the National Labor Relations Board or Federal Election Commission, which oversee areas of law and policy with stark partisan and ideological stakes. This is partly because FERC justifies decisions on electricity and natural gas policy with reference to “technical expertise,” Peskoe’s fellow Harvard Law School professor and former Obama White House official Jody Freeman told me. (If you have any doubt about this, go read through some 1,000-page-plus FERC orders.
FERC also tends to be more collegial than most other independent agencies. Meetings often include encomia to the agency’s chair for being consensus-oriented, and to its staff, who serve commissioners from both parties. Its recent “show cause” orders directing regional electricity markets to prove they’re taking steps to speed up grid interconnection for large new sources of demand garnered a 5-0 majority, with both Democrats on the Commission voting along with their Republican colleagues.
And FERC chairs do occasionally defy the presidents who have appointed them, most notably in Donald Trump’s first term, when then-Chair Neil Chatterjee dismissed Secretary of Energy Rick Perry’s request to support coal and nuclear power plants able to store fuel on site, thus propping up struggling electricity generators.
Interestingly, Chatterjee, who signed the amicus brief to the court, was relatively relaxed about Monday’s decision’s implications for his former agency about. He observed to me in an email, “given that the commission just voted 5-0 on the WH’s biggest priority before FERC I don’t see it being an issue in the near term.”
In other words, FERC and this White House, at least, already see eye to eye.
But that’s no coincidence. Since the beginning of this term, the White House has set out to rein in and control independent agencies, FERC among them. Though Trump initially tapped sitting Republican Commissioner Mark Christie to lead the commission, he ultimately declined to re-nominate Christie for a second five-year term, leading to Christie’s exit from the commission last August.
In his place, the president installed Laura Swett, who has allowed little daylight between the commission’s and the White House’s positions. Both have attempted to keep the focus on balancing the buildout of data centers to serve artificial intelligence while keeping a lid on consumer electricity prices.
While it’s not foreordained that FERC chairs will agree with the presidents that appointed them, even if they’re both members of the same party, Monday’s decision makes disagreement more dangerous for current and future FERC chairs to consider.
“There’s a bigger risk that they’ll have to ultimately yield to political pressure because they’ll have this very overt threat that they’ll be fired,” Freeman told me. “We’re going to see decisions that look more political, that look less expertly driven, and they probably will wax and wane with every new administration, which undermines stability.”
A longtime energy analyst argues that there are no solutions to the hyperscale problem, only tradeoffs.
Sam Altman, Dario Amodei, and Elon Musk need sign-off from fewer than a dozen board members to commit their companies to multibillion-dollar moves. The power plants that supply their data centers need sign-off from 13 states (plus D.C.), thousands of generators, millions of customers, and a federal regulator whose ratemaking standard predates the personal computer in order to build anything new.
Everyone in tech knows about the CEOs of the foundational artificial intelligence labs. Only energy nerds know the names of the people running our grid operators. That anonymity is a feature, not a bug. Grid operators generally think in decades, not years. But right now, they’re telling the U.S. that it has years, not decades, to figure out its own new path forward.
For decades, this process sufficed for energy generators (and regulators) grown accustomed to gradual, predictable load growth. But over the past several years, the scale and speed of increasing energy demand has overwhelmed the supply -side’s ability to respond. The resulting strain on the grid has reverberated through every rung of the supply chain, delaying development timelines, increasing costs, and elevating energy from political conversations to dinner table discussions.
The loudest creaks and groans are coming from PJM Interconnection, North America’s largest grid operator. Residential bills in the PJM service area are climbing at a dizzying pace. Recent capacity auctions have ended with record prices, which PJM’s own market monitor blames on the explosive growth in data center power demand. Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro has attempted to pressure PJM to lower its capacity price cap. Even Secretary of Energy Chris Wright has called on the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to develop new procedures to help get data centers online faster.
David Mills, PJM’s CEO, published a 70-page report in May acknowledging that current market rules cannot keep pace with AI-driven load growth. And yet he also refused to recommend a path forward, leaving the decision to “state regulators and legislatures, to FERC, to consumers.”
The most essential grid infrastructure, he explained, “is not a price curve or a performance obligation — it is legitimacy.” In other words, what’s broken isn’t a parameter inside the capacity market, but rather the capacity market itself, along with the political conditions under which it operates. PJM calls this the “credibility trap”: high prices accurately signal that new investment is needed, but when those prices become politically untenable, government intervenes and investment stalls.
The fix, Mills writes, “requires structural choices, not just parameter adjustments.”
Mills is speaking to a deeper issue with the grid than its ability to respond to shifting market dynamics, which is that hyperscalers and grid operators are built to solve two different kinds of problems. Hyperscalers solve engineering problems with specifiable objectives, known constraints, verifiable outcomes. Engineering problems reward concentrated authority and unilateral decision-making.
Grid operators, on the other hand, solve coordination problems. The information they rely on to do so is dispersed across millions of stakeholders, continuously revised and often contradictory, and operators’ preferences are not so much known as they are revealed through deliberation. FERC’s standard for wholesale rates is not whether those rates are objectively “correct,” but rather whether the market settled on those rates through fair competition. The process does not just determine the answer, it essentially is the answer.
This construction is the category error driving the current AI-grid collision. The electricity grid is not an engineering problem with coordination problems attached. It is a coordination problem with engineering problems embedded in it. Treat it as the former and you lose all the information that gets generated in the process of market-based price discovery. You also lose all the buy-in that occurs when real people are faced with real trade-offs and have to make hard, binding choices.
Mills did lay out three possible structural paths in his May letter:
These pathways are not equivalent — unlike with an engineering problem, there are no cut-and-dried solutions here. There are only trade-offs and questions about who bears their consequences. Path C is likely the better answer, while Path A is more expedient. The gap between them is the work PJM’s constituents have to manage over the coming years. PJM may choose the wrong path, or arrive at the right one too late.
The alternative is not hypothetical. If hyperscalers aren’t willing to wait for PJM customers to decide which path they want to take (and recent history suggests they are not) they will build behind-the-meter generation, sign bespoke deals with regulated utilities, and restart dormant nuclear plants. America would be left with two grids, one for compute, one for everything else. The first will be reliable and expensive. The second will be cheaper, fragile, and stranded with the costs of the system the first walked away from. The market would lose the dispatch signal, the error-correcting price mechanism, and the legitimacy of the system that has reliably powered the Mid-Atlantic for two decades.
Economist Friedrich Hayek described the limits of humans’ planning capabilities better than anyone in his 1974 Nobel Prize lecture, using the metaphor of the craftsman shaping his handiwork versus the gardener cultivating growth. The craftsman thinks they can make a perfect tool but repeatedly runs up against the boundaries of their own knowledge, whereas the gardener learns to manage new information as it arises, tending not to the product itself but rather to the conditions that produce it.
Hyperscalers are not bad actors. They have legitimate interests and the political capital to help shape the grid’s future. But we should resist the Newtonian urge to meet unexpected, swiftly moving demand with equally swift supply. Markets and physical systems both tend toward equilibrium, but the former finds it through deliberation, not collision. Instead of trying to unilaterally craft a better grid, hyperscalers might find a better path if they work with the practitioners who already know how to garden.