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Fuel is out. Supply chains are in.

It was not long ago that the combination of “hydrogen” and “automakers” would bring to mind fuel cells, a technology that has already fallen out of favor as buyers flock to electric cars. In its wake, though, green hydrogen is catching the eye of automakers for another reason: It could allow them to decarbonize one of their trickiest supply chains.
In the last two years, major car companies have committed to integrating green or recycled steel, made with hydrogen, into their vehicles. At the forefront of this effort is Volvo, which aims to be the first automaker to use fossil-free steel in its cars. If successful — and, given where the company is in the process, that’s a big if — the Swedish automaker’s efforts could provide a template for how to decarbonize other challenging parts of industrial supply chains.
Steelmaking is responsible for roughly 8% of global energy demand and 2.6 gigatonnes of carbon dioxide emissions per year, a total higher than all of the European Union’s emissions in 2021. Steelmakers use fossil fuels — and especially highly polluting coal — to process iron ore and produce the alloy. At present, there aren’t any surefire paths to reduce these emissions, given how crucial a role steel plays in modern manufacturing.
But green steel has real promise. Hydrogen made using renewable energy can be used to replace coal in steelmaking with near-zero greenhouse gas emissions. The market for green steel is still small, though, in part because there is simply not a lot on offer. In 2019, just 8% of the world’s steel mills had even begun committing to zero-carbon technology, according to the green energy non-profit RMI.
This is largely because the supply of green hydrogen — the ingredient that gives green steel its name and a hot commodity among investors — is itself constrained. Creating the fuel is incredibly energy intensive. To produce 550 million metric tons of green hydrogen annually, the world would need 18 times more solar capacity than it has installed today, according to the Hydrogen Council.
As of 2020, the world demanded 90 million metric tons of hydrogen for refining and industrial applications, which were produced almost entirely by fossil fuels. Of that, just 30,000 metric tons were produced using renewable energy.
For Volvo, the first step of the enormous undertaking of steel decarbonization was to assess the carbon footprint of a car, specifically its first electric vehicle. It found its XC40 Recharge would emit 27 metric tons of carbon dioxide over its lifetime even if it were charged entirely using renewable energy. Of that total, 18% of the materials-related emissions came from the steel used to build the car.
According to Jonas Otterheim, who was until recently the head of climate action for the Swedish automaker (though he is temporarily on leave), this realization drove home that finding suppliers of low- or no-emissions steel would be “critical” to reach the company’s goal of supply chain-wide carbon neutrality by 2040.
Volvo turned to its steel suppliers, namely SSAB, the manufacturer that has long provided the company’s conventional steel. In June 2021, the two partnered to explore developing fossil-free steel for use in its cars as well.
It may seem that substituting green steel for conventional is straightforward, especially given that, per SSAB, “the only difference in the process is that the energy used will be exclusively fossil-free electricity and other fossil-free fuels.” However, with an operation as complicated as auto manufacturing, any material change requires exhaustive testing.
And that’s where Volvo is today. The automaker aims to integrate green steel into its vehicles in 2026, which is when SSAB intends to have its fossil-free plant up and running. In the meantime, Volvo is evaluating “part-by-part” which components of its manufacturing process can safely be replaced with green steel.
“This is [a] very big job over a number of years, before the material can be put into any car,” said Otterheim. The two companies are evaluating whether the switch to green steel will require retooling its plants, which “are built specifically for every car and every material quality we have,” he added.
Otterheim said the deal initially was just exploratory in nature: an opportunity for both companies to explore whether it’s possible to make fossil-free versions of all the different grades of steel that are necessary to build a car, and potentially use it in a concept car.
However, his colleague Stina Klingvall, who is Volvo’s acting head of climate action in Otterheim’s absence, said that things have developed to the point where Volvo is actively starting to prepare to produce components with the new steel.
One promising development has come already from within the Volvo ecosystem. In August 2021, SSAB shipped a batch of green steel made at a pilot plant with renewable electricity and hydrogen to Volvo’s truck-making arm (separate from Volvo Cars), which was then integrated the steel into a dump truck prototype. (SSAB produced this steel under its Hybrit initiative, a collaboration with mining company LKAB and power company Vattenfall.)
One big outstanding question is how much automakers and other green steel buyers will have to pay to use the more sustainable metal.
RMI’s analysis found that hydrogen-based steel production can result in a 20% cost premium, but also that the premium disappears when electricity prices are in the range of $15-$20 per megawatt-hour or lower. This remains out of reach across most of the U.S., though a Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory study found that the country is on track for solar costing $22 per MWh hour on average by 2035 (down from $34 per MWh in 2020).
Meanwhile, Otterheim said that he hopes that Volvo’s work will “help drive down costs'' to be more in line with the status quo for steel, and that it will push more automakers to make commitments of their own. This represents the most crucial knock-on effect of a single company’s dipping a toe into greener materials: peer pressure.
“Due to the scarcity of these materials over the short-term period, other premium car makers are also starting to act to secure volumes for their supply,” Otterheim said. “The race for such materials is naturally good, creating an even stronger signal to other steel suppliers to follow.”
Volvo may have made the first green steel purchase commitment, but several automaker competitors have followed suit, including BMW and General Motors. While the pool of customers for steel is a big one (and includes the renewables industry), transportation is a particularly big fish in that pool, responsible for 12% of global steel consumption, per the World Steel Association.
When it comes to urging heavy industry to decarbonize, there is strength in numbers. Materials like steel, cement, and chemicals are integral parts of countless other supply chains, which means it’s hard for a single customer to have much sway. As a consequence, heavy industrial companies lack the incentive to innovate, said former New York Times journalist Justin Gillis, who recently published a book on how to push for climate action. There are few market signals “that clean products are going to be favored,” he said.
But some companies are trying to change that dynamic. The First Movers Coalition was formed last year explicitly to create markets for nascent sectors like green steel and carbon dioxide removal. With a market cap of $8.5 trillion between the more than 50 companies involved, their collective pledges to procure climate-friendly products despite the higher price tag offers market certainty. When Ford joined the coalition in May, the company pledged that at least 10% of its steel and aluminum would have near-zero carbon emissions by 2030.
Ultimately, companies that have committed to cleaning up their supply chains have a choice of how to decide to define that supply chain, and how much pressure to put on their suppliers with hard-to-abate emissions.
“How many steps back in the supply chain do you go? The further back you go, the less responsibility any one consumer-facing company can have,” Gillis said. “I do think these companies can play a role by sending market pressure, but they need to be willing to pay a price premium for cleaner supplies or materials.”
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Editor's note: This article was updated at 12:23 pm ET to clarify part of the steelmaking process.
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The two economic booms resemble each other somewhat. But data centers have a far more dire PR problem.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
In Pennsylvania, the governor required data center developers to comply with new restrictions. Texas began its mandatory audit for grid-connected data centers. And Nebraska limited tax incentives for data centers and started a new task force.
In Wisconsin’s governor race, candidates began posturing over who will treat data centers the toughest; in Michigan’s Senate race, the GOP candidate Mike Rogers called for a statewide moratorium on them. A Politico analysis found that of the more than 100 campaign ads mentioning data centers this election, none have put the technology in a positive light.
It makes sense, then, that when Heatmap published its most recent polling on data centers — finding that 75% of Americans oppose their local development — it seemed to blow up. But there’s one aspect of that polling that I want to discuss here, because I think it has been underacknowledged.
It’s this: According to our polling, data centers are about as unpopular in urban areas as rural areas. They’re slightly less unpopular in the suburbs.
The differences in disapproval, to be clear, aren’t enormous. Local data center development is 63 points underwater in rural areas and 60 points underwater in urban areas. That’s close enough to our poll’s 2.3% margin of error that it may just be noise. Even in the suburbs, data center development is 58 points underwater — a small distinction.
But it represents a big shift from the political geography of recent decades, where cities and rural areas have tended to disagree profoundly over policy. Since the 2000 election or so, cities have elected Democrats, rural areas have picked Republicans, and then the parties have fought over the suburbs.
Data centers, however, appear to unite these two partisan bases against some of the country’s largest companies — and some of our political systems’ odder ducks. Heatmap’s polling earlier this year found that AI YIMBYs tend to be urban, largely Trump-voting men who are optimistic about technology. And in March, the Republican pollster Echelon Insights found that some of data centers’ biggest fans were MAGA Republicans with graduate degrees living in cities.
These results help explain why Republicans have suddenly turned on a dime against data centers: Their base has rejected it. As a political reporter friend put it to me, after looking at our data, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a trend that’s uniting college-educated and non-college-educated Americans.
In trying to understand this transition, I’ve tried to think about other technologies that have undergone similar investment booms in recent American history. One oft-made comparison is fracking, which expanded quickly across the country in the 2010s. Many commentators — myself included — have suggested that data centers may follow fracking’s example, where blue states ban a new type of economic activity and red states welcome it. The red (and sometimes purple) states then get to reap much of the resulting economic growth — and the tax receipts — while everyone has to deal with the emissions. The revelation that data centers are driving a new natural gas boom only deepens the link.
But there’s one big problem with that analogy: Fracking was never this unpopular. While fracking has rarely commanded a large majority of support among the mass public, its popular nadir came in spring 2020, when 60% of Americans told Pew that they opposed an expansion of fracking. (Its popularity began to recover after President Biden took office — a classic case of thermostatic public opinion.)
In every poll that we could find at Heatmap, too, expanding fracking always commanded a majority of Republican support. Throughout the 2010s and 2020s, rank-and-file Republicans have wanted to “drill, baby, drill.” But they don’t seem to want to “compute, baby, compute.” And that means — among other things — energy and climate analysts like me need to find another analogy.
Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”