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Which is why it’s great that so many Americans are now leasing EVs.

The new way to buy an electric car is not to buy one at all.
Just three years ago, four out of five EV drivers had financed their car or paid in cash, while only 21% had leased the EV, according to data from TransUnion. But by the second quarter of this year, leasing had become the top choice: 48.7% of people leased their new electric vehicle versus 34.7 percent who financed and 16.6% who paid in cash.
That’s a sea change in the way people shop for EVs, and it could be great news for the electric car market — just think of all the gently used cars that will flood the market when those leases end.
There are numerous factors behind leasing’s ascendance, starting with money matters. Electric cars still cost more than fossil fuel-burners, but the monthly payment on a lease is almost always less than what you’d pay per month to finance the full cost of a vehicle. In that way, leasing brings EVs within reach for budget-minded drivers — Joseph Yoon, consumer insights analyst at Edmunds, recently told me there are great leasing deals aplenty on EVs because dealers want to move them off the lots.
A tweak to the federal tax credits helped, too. It got more complicated to buy an EV outright this year after the government restricted the benefits to vehicles with a minimum amount of domestic manufacturing. But the same rules don’t apply to leased vehicles, giving those who lease an EV the option to get a discount on a car that wouldn’t necessarily be eligible if they financed it.
There are other hypotheses about the rising popularity of the lease. A bigwig at one of the credit bureaus told InsideEVs that leasing reflects buyers’ comfort with the subscription model that has taken over our economy at large. The data also shows that the total number of first-time lessees has actually declined a little since 2019, which suggests to me that perhaps a lot of people who always lease their vehicles decided over the past few years that it was time to go for an EV.
Leasing is also simply an attractive choice given the current state of electric vehicle offerings. Most of today’s most popular models haven’t been on the road long enough to tell us much about how they’ll age — or what might go wrong when they’re eight or 10 or 12 years old. Lease-holders don’t have to worry about any of that. They need not worry about the battery range inevitably fading, either.
For this reason I’ve begun, from time to time, to second-guess my own decision to buy my EV. Rather than watching its battery diminish as the years go by, I could have leased it, returned it after three years, and gotten into a cool new EV that didn’t exist when I bought mine. Then again, I’m closing in on the last monthly payment rather than being locked into the cycle of forever payments that comes with leasing. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
The jump in leasing is having a clear impact on the shape of the electric vehicle market, where carmakers in the U.S., in particular, are still having trouble putting out affordable EVs that buyers want. Luxury buyers, on the other hand, have always favored leases as a way to keep themselves in a shiny, new-ish car, and to avoid the unpleasant experience of owning an out-of-warranty BMW, Mercedes-Benz, or Audi. Around 90% of those three companies’ EVs are leased, a number that has helped the Germany luxury brands get a foothold in the electric car market (especially considering the staggering MSRPs of most of their electric offerings).
And then there’s what happens to all those leased vehicles. Once a typical three-year agreement expires, its driver must give back the vehicle to the dealership, presumably in the undamaged, low-mileage condition that’s specified in the terms of the lease. From there, the vehicle goes on to start its second life as someone else’s brand new used car — which is why it’s good news that lots of people are leasing EVs.
While leasing is one way to work around the high sticker prices of EVs, buying used is another. Used vehicles have long been a better deal because somebody else suffered the financial penalty of buying a new car and seeing its value plummet the moment they drove it off the lot. (In fact, what you’re really paying for when you lease a car is the severe depreciation it undergoes during its first few years of life. The dealership has to get that money from lease customers because they’ll get much less for the vehicle when it returns from its lease as a three-year-old and they resell it as a used car.)
The used EV market, though, hasn’t been particularly robust to date. For one thing, there just aren’t that many vehicles on the market since EV sales really only took off in the past few years. Further limiting supply are the plummeting prices of used EVs, which appear to be depreciating much faster than gasoline cars or hybrids. Since owners would recoup so little from selling their EVs, more of them are hanging onto their cars.
That’s why the rise in leased EVs could be good news for everyone else. In a few years, all of those electric vehicles will return to the lot where many will become gently used, certified pre-owned cars that sell for much less than new vehicles. And though the fate of the federal tax credits after this year’s election are uncertain, used EVs currently also qualify for a tax break.
Used electric vehicles have their own set of concerns. Their drivers won’t enjoy the full driving range that the battery offered when new. They’ll be responsible for the longer-term repairs if they want to keep the car running indefinitely. But used EVs with 80% or 90% of their original range are plenty useful, and given those prices and tax breaks, they’re a steal, too. And with a lot of leased EVs soon to enter the secondary market, you might even be able to find one.
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Most Americans still say they would oppose a data center being built near where they live, but the facilities’ standing has improved among Republicans, a new Heatmap Pro poll finds.
The American public’s backlash against data centers may finally be starting to slow down, although the facilities remain staggeringly unpopular, a new poll finds.
Seventy-one percent of Americans said they would oppose a data center being built near where they live, according to a new Heatmap Pro poll conducted by Embold Research earlier this month.
That is an abysmal finding for technology companies and would-be developers of the computing facilities. But it actually represents an improvement from previous polling, and it suggests one of the fastest shifts in public opinion in recent memory may be tapering off.
That shift has been swift. As recently as September of last year, about 43% of Americans said they would support a data center being built near where they live, and Americans broadly appeared to be evenly split on the infrastructure, according to Heatmap Pro polling. Eleven months later, 75% of Americans told the same poll that they would oppose a nearby data center — a 32 point shift. That monumental turnaround helped make data centers a defining issue in this election cycle.
That backlash has transformed the economics of the data center boom, the largest infrastructure buildout in recent U.S. history. The overwhelming majority of data center projects now face some degree of community opposition, Heatmap Pro reporting suggests. More than $260 billion in proposed data centers have been canceled this year after meeting local opposition. The artificial intelligence company Anthropic even flagged the infrastructure slowdown on Monday when it filed for its initial public offering, which is widely expected to be among the largest ever.
Now our new survey shows that Americans’ rejection of the enormous computing facilities may itself be slowing. The small observed drop, which only slightly exceeds the survey’s margin of error, was driven by a four-point decline in the share of Americans who said they would “strongly oppose” the technology.

While Americans of all parties improved their view of data centers, the change was most pronounced among Republicans. In August, 23% of GOP voters said that they would support a data center being built near where they live. In the new poll, conducted after weeks of favorable campaigning by President Trump, 34% of Republicans said they would support a data center slated for their area, while the share of Republicans who said they would oppose it fell from 66% to 58%. Data centers’ standing among independents improved by nine points during the same period.
Democrats remain largely unified against the infrastructure, and data centers’ improvement among that group was just outside the margin of error.
While Americans of every age, race, gender, and partisan ID remain more opposed to local data center development than in favor of it, their standing has also improved among men since the summer. In August, 21% of men said they would support a data center being built near where they live. Now, 28% of men would support one.
Will America be the land of opportunity for AtkinsRéalis’ tried-and-true CANDU?
Unruffled by President Trump’s taunts of turning Canada into the 51st state, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney has vowed to regain leverage over Washington by remaking his nation as an “energy superpower.” Instead of building pipelines from the oil fields of Alberta to American refineries, Ottawa will run them to its West Coast ports to sell crude directly to Asia. Rather than importing electricity from offshore wind farms in the American Northeast, Nova Scotia will build its own turbines and sell the power back to energy-starved New England as the Trump administration thwarts the region’s own buildout.
But Canada’s path to reviving its nuclear industry may run — counterintuitively — through the United States.
Last week, Montreal-based AtkinsRéalis inked a deal with utility Hoosier Energy and the Indiana government to explore building up to 6 gigawatts of reactors in the state. The agreement is only a memorandum of understanding to kick off a study examining potential sites across the state. But it marks the first real effort to export Canada’s unique pressurized heavy-water reactors, called CANDUs, to the U.S., and highlights how America’s domestic nuclear industry has atrophied to the point that foreign developers of large-scale units are racing to establish a beachhead in the world’s largest atomic power market.
“If the Americans had created the CANDU, everyone in the world would know about it,” Joe St. Julian, the American-born president of AtkinsRéalis, told me. “There’s just a cultural difference in the way that the Canadians go about things and the way the Americans do.”
Pronounced “CAN-do,” the upbeat acronym stands for Canada Deuterium Uranium and evokes the government’s post-war, can-do spirit, mustered to help protect its sovereignty during the bipolarity of the Cold War. Developed in the 1950s by Canadian government scientists and now used across the country’s entire nuclear fleet, CANDUs rely on deuterium, a version of hydrogen with an extra neutron, as their “heavy water” coolant to sustain their chains of split atoms. Uranium powers virtually all commercial nuclear reactors, but CANDUs are distinct in that they can run on the raw stuff, rather than enriched uranium. That’s their real advantage: By forgoing the costly and heavily scrutinized enrichment process, Canada can tap its vast resources of mined uranium without facing the bottleneck of the expensive enrichment facilities or attracting the intensive oversight of global regulators monitoring for the production of atomic weapons.
The 17 reactors that provide 15% of Canada’s electricity today are all CANDUs. India’s fleet largely borrowed the technology, and Argentina, China, Romania, and South Korea have all imported their own CANDUs. But the buildout largely stopped in the last century. Canada built its last CANDU in Romania in 2007. The last Canadian CANDU — Unit 4 of the Darlington nuclear plant in Ontario — came online in 1993.
Two years ago, Canada sought to restart its reactor buildout by commissioning its first American-designed unit. Construction began last year on the world’s first BWRX-300, a small modular reactor that uses enriched uranium as fuel. The U.S. plans to build the second version of the same reactor at the Tennessee Valley Authority’s Clinch River site. Whether it can deliver the cost savings SMRs promise remains an open question, given that nuclear developers have historically improved economics by making reactors bigger, not smaller.
But Chris Keefer, a Toronto physician-cum-nuclear advocate who hosts the in-depth energy podcast Decouple, told me he believes Canada’s real error is in benching the CANDU. While Ontario’s government-owned utility “got their backs slapped endlessly for having the courage to go first” in building the inaugural SMR on the continent, “they’re idiots to be investing $21 billion of Canadian ratepayers’ money to prop up an American company with American technology,” he said, colorfully characterizing the move as a massive error and “the result of dis-coordinated decision-making.” (Converted from loonies to U.S. dollars, that figure is about $14.9 billion.)
While Keefer added that he opposes the trade war between Washington and Ottawa, he also recognizes it as a potential opening. “Part of me loves it and this deglobalization moment we’re in, where strategic autonomy and national interest matter,” he said.
The Carney administration has yet to set clear rules on what kind of reactor technology it will support domestically, but it could, in theory, limit access to federal subsidies for provinces and utilities that opt for non-CANDU technologies. For now, however, there appears to be quiet agreement between the U.S. and Canada on bringing the technology south. St. Julian said the Canadian Ministry of Energy has been “very supportive” in talks about providing financing for CANDU exports to the U.S. AtkinsRéalis is also in talks with the U.S. Department of Energy, though a source familiar with that agency’s thinking cast doubt over the possibility that the Trump administration would ultimately fund a Canadian project in the U.S.
None of this was a part of AtkinsRéalis’ long game, St. Julian told me. “The U.S. had four or five of its own reactor technologies,” he said. “Why would it build a foreign technology?” But shortly after Trump returned to office, “We looked at it and realized the U.S. is down to a single large reactor technology: Westinghouse. The other three or four are no longer in business.”
That was the opening AtkinsRéalis needed. “The U.S. made clear it had the aspiration to build 300 new nuclear power stations,” St. Julian went on. “Between Westinghouse and new technologies coming online with SMRs, we said they couldn’t possibly reach their aspiration no matter how optimistic they are about the capacity and supply chain of first-of-a-kind technologies.”
So the company applied to the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission for approval of the CANDU. In June, AtkinsRéalis sent the regulator a formal heads-up about its plans to file an application this past summer, and it expects to complete its second topical report for the NRC by the end of this month.
The CANDUs aren’t the only foreign reactors making a play in the U.S., though. Last month, South Korea unveiled a deal with the Trump administration to fund construction of up to six AP1000s and two APR1400s.
The CANDU does have some drawbacks that the APR1400 doesn’t. The same characteristics that let its reactors sustain fission using raw uranium also cause wear and tear that requires a significant refurbishment every 35 years. (Canada is already funding a campaign of repairs domestically.) And while a typical refueling outage for a light water reactor lasts up to two months and renovations ahead of a relicensing can take up to a year, the refurbishment process for a CANDU can take the unit offline for two years or more.
AtkinsRéalis declined to comment on its internal estimates of the cost of such a refurbishment, which is — among industry experts — widely criticized as costly. But St. Julian said the company guarantees at least two refurbishments in a CANDU’s lifetime, giving each unit a 105-year lifespan. Amortizing the costs over more than a century of electricity production, not to mention the company’s experience building units all over the world, means a CANDU is “a lot less expensive” than rival technologies, he said.
“The APR1400’s biggest advantage is the Korean industrial ecosystem,” Nana Menya Ayensu, a non-resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council who worked on energy policy in the Biden White House, told me. “But the CANDU has lots of advantages that are specific to the technology in terms of not needing enriched fuel.”
Keefer highlighted another upside he’s acutely aware of due to his day job as an emergency-room doctor: CANDUs are particularly well-suited to batch-producing “enormous amounts” of medical isotopes, such as cobalt-60, used in cancer chemotherapy and the sterilization of surgical instruments, among other uses.
The technology is certainly attracting attention. Last month, Argentina and Romania agreed to work together on more CANDU projects. Weeks later, as I reported, Poland’s state-backed nuclear developer approved a tender for a second nuclear power station, for which it’s considering the CANDU. Last week, Turkey signed an agreement with Carney to cooperate on civilian nuclear energy, putting the CANDU in contention for the country’s second atomic power station.
And earlier this month, Atlas Atomics, a startup backed by Ohio’s Republican gubernatorial candidate Vivek Ramaswamy, raised $400 million in a Series A to commercialize its own pressurized heavy water reactor, in what Keefer dubbed in his newsletter the “AmeriCANDU.”
St. Julian said the new competition shows the unique value of the CANDU. “The difference is, we’ve been doing it for 70 years, and we spent tens of millions of dollars to perfect this technology; they’re just starting,” he said. Then he cracked a half smile. “They have the benefit of being a second movement,” he added. “But, man, we have a big head start.”
Plus, one big opportunity for climate change.
Anthropic is worried about its ability to power data centers.
While much of the company’s more-than-330-page filing for its planned initial public offering focuses on the mundane (executive compensation) and the extraordinary (“existential risks” are mentioned three times), considerable space is devoted to the problems of power.
The word “energy” appears 14 times in the section of the document laying out risks to Anthropic’s business, while “climate” or “climate change” is mentioned four times.
The overarching concern the company has is that it might not get enough power for data centers running its large language models. “Delays in securing energy, water, and other critical services for these facilities could further slow the pace at which newly commissioned compute becomes available for use,” is one representative sample from its risk factors section. The document later notes that “our business may face increased scrutiny related to these activities … including from the investment community and the local communities in which we operate,” in a later section on environmental, social, and governance standards.
Anthropic is also concerned with the pace of the energy infrastructure build-out more generally, noting “the construction of the generation and transmission infrastructure on which we depend is itself capital-intensive and exposed to labor shortages, supply chain disruptions, permitting delays, changes in interest rates, tariffs, other cost overruns, and financing constraints.” These concerns will be familiar to anyone following the debate in Washington, D.C., over permitting reform, which is also centered on making transmission easier and cheaper to build.
Later in the document, Anthropic writes that electricity policy is both highly varied across the country — “Grid-tied electrical supply, for instance, is subject to the jurisdiction of federal and state energy regulators, regional grid operators, and public utility commissions” — and also evolving, noting specifically that “environmental standards applicable to power generation continue to evolve, including as a result of changing governmental priorities and shifting public and political views regarding climate change and the appropriate treatment of various power generation sources.”
The risk of these policies is that they could result in “failure to secure access to adequate electrical power,” which could then “adversely affect our cost structure and limit our ability to scale our compute infrastructure, develop and deploy our models, and service our customers.”
Anthropic also acknowledges energy can be quite expensive, writing that costs are “largely outside of our control” and can “rise sharply during periods of peak demand or constrained supply, and such increases in energy costs could adversely affect our results of operations.”
Anthropic is the charter member of an industry group, along with Nvidia and Google, to promote and enable demand flexibility, which would reduce peak demand — and thus bring down electricity prices and alleviate the need for additional new infrastructure — by having data centers draw down their power usage when demand was at its highest. The company notes that it has also signed on to “voluntary commitments to offset the impact of our data center energy consumption on local communities and electricity ratepayers.” Already, the document says, “these commitments have increased, and we expect will continue to increase, our operating costs.”
And while the document has little to say about climate change per se and even less about sustainability and renewables, it does note that “the physical effects of climate change may increase our operating costs over time, as higher average temperatures can increase the power consumption and water usage required to cool equipment at the facilities on which we depend.”
Climate change also acts as an amplifier for potential disasters that could affect the company. “The impact of climate change may increase these risks,” the company says of “war, terrorist attacks, and other acts of political violence, or any significant natural disaster, such as an earthquake, fire, hurricane, tornado, flood, or significant power outage.”
Specifically, Anthropic calls out climate-related risk specific to the Bay Area, where it is headquartered. Or, as it bloodlessly describes it, “a region known for seismic activity and increasingly for the threat of fires.”
Otherwise, climate change and sustainability policy is largely seen as a regulatory and cost burden. For example, “regulations relating to [environmental, social, and governance] matters, including environmental sustainability and climate change, are under consideration, being adopted, or being rolled back or revised, which may impact our necessary disclosures and increase compliance costs,” and “sustainability initiatives, goals, or commitments could be difficult to achieve or costly to implement.”
It notes a variety of California, European Union, and United Kingdom climate disclosure laws “will require the dedication of significant time and resources” while also observing that “across the United States ... enacted or proposed ‘anti-ESG’ policies or legislation or have issued related legal opinions,” which could “expose any sustainability, employment, governance, or other corporate practices we adopt to the risk of litigation, antitrust investigations or challenges by federal or state authorities, and result in injunctions, penalties, and reputational harm.”
The document is far less detailed about what Anthropic and its products could do to alleviate or prevent climate change and its effects. This is not surprising for a regulatory filing concerned with disclosing corporate information and outlining risks to investors — but the filing is also supposed to explain the business opportunities it sees as well. In that regard, climate is relegated to a laundry list of potential scientific projects Anthropic’s products could be helpful with. “Claude is also being applied to pressing global problems in scientific research, drug discovery, education, and climate analysis,” it writes.
If its S-1 is any indication, there will be a lot of work to do.