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So far, no one’s really picking up the slack.

I resent my go-to charging depot.
Don’t get me wrong: I was psyched when Tesla opened a Supercharger in the parking lot of a nearby In-N-Out burger. The other local Supercharger is located in a garage that charges for parking by the hour. Plus, it’s fun to grab a neapolitan shake while your vehicle gets juice. The problem is that everybody in Southern California loves In-N-Out, so reaching the chargers at dinnertime means navigating through the unruly drive-thru line. This sucks, especially when the battery is nearly depleted and the burger faithful won’t get out of the way.
More than a year ago, salvation was promised in the form of a new Supercharger at a nearby mall, one where I already frequent the Petco. But construction has mysteriously stalled. I stare at the charging map and repeatedly refresh, waiting for the station to come online.
I shouldn’t be surprised at Supercharger deployment being stuck, of course. Earlier this year, in a move nominally intended to keep Tesla nimble and innovative, Elon Musk laid off the team responsible for the Supercharger network at a moment when they were perhaps the most useful people at the company.
While the rest of Tesla sputtered with the rollout of the Cybertruck and reversed course on what to do next, the Supercharger team was preparing for a future in which drivers in EVs from basically all the other car brands could stop at Tesla’s fast-chargers and give the company their money. Instead of leaning into this advantage, Tesla has done the opposite. The Supercharger network is growing, but deployment has proceeded at a slower pace than during the same period in 2023. Before the mass layoff, Tesla was opening more than 30 new Supercharger sites per week; that number dipped to about 15 afterward.
The slowdown matters to a lot of people on the road. Despite Tesla’s recent sales slowdown, its cars make up the vast majority of EVs in America. Deprioritizing the Supercharger network is an annoyance for all those drivers, who may have a harder time taking a road trip to Big Bend National Park, Branson, or Aunt Betty’s house in the boondocks if promised charging depots stay in limbo.
Fewer new Superchargers will make existing stations more congested, too, and that’s before vehicles from other car companies begin to arrive en masse. On a road trip to Lake Tahoe last week I saw my first Rivian plugged into a Tesla station. Ford EVs are starting to get their adapters. Next year, carmakers will begin to build their EVs with Tesla’s North American Charging Standard plug, which will greatly increase congestion at existing Superchargers, especially on popular highway routes.
Whether future EV road trips are convenient or frustrating depends in large part on whether the rest of the industry can pick up the slack should Tesla continue to slow down Supercharger deployment. The track record of competitors like Electrify America and EVgo isn’t inspiring, as their stations have, to date, tended to be rarer, smaller, and more prone to mechanical failure.
Other car companies have pledged to build their own charging depots, which would ease some of the strain. Hope for a better charging future, however, lies largely with the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure program, which came out of the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law of 2021 and allocated $5 billion to build fast-charging stations along designated highway corridors across the country — see a map of them here.
That money is slowly rolling out in tranches to the states, which had the responsibility of putting forth plans for where they’d build plugs with the money. The result is a patchwork, state-by-state agenda for upgrading the American charging network, but the work is underway. Ohio began construction of the first NEVI-funded charger last October, and you can see where Alabama and Virginia, for example, plan to put theirs. Crucially, much of the funding has already been dispersed. If an EV-unfriendly new president takes office in January, the ball is already rolling.
What’s unclear is whether all these charging depots can match the standard of excellence the Supercharger team created before Musk blew it to bits. Take Alabama’s chargers, which will mostly be built at existing Love’s gas stations. The new stations meet the bare minimum required for NEVI, which is that they have four plugs each capable of delivering 150 kilowatts of power. Tesla’s newest batch of Superchargers deliver 250 kilowatts; Electrify America has some that reach 350. The 20-odd Superchargers already in Alabama offer at least six to eight plugs, with many stations hosting 12 or 16.
Every plug counts. Every time a new station fills in a spot on the nation’s charging map, drivers will be a little more confident that an EV will be able to take them anywhere they need to go. But if the Biden dollars dispersed through NEVI are going to take the place of Tesla’s Supercharger outfit, then the states need to do more than the bare minimum.
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There is a heat wave in Europe, the world’s fastest warming continent. And so, as you may have heard, a perennial topic of online climate discourse has returned: Why don’t more Europeans have air conditioning?
I’m partially convinced this is psy op, or at least a figment of how social media organizes attention. I have a hypothesis that various “For You” page algorithms, especially that of the social network X, began to reward content that performed unusually well across national borders a few years ago. Since then, the amount of America vs. Europe content has surged. (Of course, writers have been comparing American and European lifestyles for much longer than that.)
Suffice it to say, though: It’s a fraught topic. I’ve assumed that as extreme heat gets worse as the climate changes, Europeans will simply get on with it and install AC, much as Americans in the Pacific Northwest have done. Yet there are cultural and regulatory obstacles to AC’s growth in Europe.
I’m sure I’ll write about it in the future, but for now I want to get a grip on the facts themselves. And so as a Friday special, I present to you — the facts about European AC, as I understand it:
Thanks so much for reading, and talk soon.
The movement against data centers is raising up a raison d'etre of the anti-renewables movement: protecting would-be farmland.
Farm owners and operators across the U.S. are winning national headlines almost every week for rejecting big dollar offers from data center developers. In Hanover County, Virginia, protestors are chanting “Grow Tomatoes, Not Data Centers.” In Pennsylvania and elsewhere, Republican legislators are mulling proposals to block the sale of so-called “prime farmland” for data center development. In Texas, the fight over data center development has engulfed the race for the state’s ag commissioner seat. In the Midwest, where agriculture reigns supreme, statewide races and congressional campaigns are slowly but surely being defined by the issue. Like in Nebraska where Austin Ahlman, an independent candidate running for Congress in Nebraska’s first district, told me he believes the data center backlash is reflective of a populist politics that broadly criticize elites and top-down control of the economy: “I think sometimes people misunderstand the anxieties of rural Americans when it comes to these data centers because a lot of their fears are about control long term.”
Unlike the farmland backlash around renewable energy development, the loudest critics are on the anti-monopolist left. On Wednesday, the prominent opposition group Food and Water Watch signaled farmland could soon be a watchword in the national data center debate – in a fashion analogous to what we’ve seen with renewable energy. The organization’s blog post entitled “The AI Data Center Boom Is Coming for Farmers” declared data centers verboten because of the threat they posed to “small and midsized family farmers.” Mitch Jones, deputy director of the campaign outfit, said he believes the threat to farmland is “a compelling reason to oppose data center development” but that his organization’s fight is primarily focused on protecting small business owners and an anti-monopoly sentiment.
“If data centers are coming into their areas, this puts even more pressure on them. It drives up the cost of their electricity, just as it does anyone else. It competes with them for water for crops, and it affects the value of their land in a perverse way,” Jones told me.
None of this should be surprising. An agricultural workforce has always been a good barometer for figuring out if a community will accept new infrastructure of any kind. We’ve seen as much time and time again with renewable energy, carbon capture, fossil energy and mining, just to name a few industries.
This same rule is true with data centers. In April, county commissioners in Kosciusko County, Indiana, unanimously rejected a Prologis data center; nearly 90% of acreage in Kosciusko County is being actively farmed, according to the Heatmap Pro database. Linn County, Iowa, in February enacted a rule severely restricting data center development in unincorporated areas; almost three-fourths of the land is used by the ag sector. A potential Amazon facility is causing heartburn in Clinton County, Ohio; nearly all land in the county is used for farming and utility-scale solar development has a recent history of conflict with landowners.
To be candid, I’m struck by the similarity in the backlash over siting data centers on farmland – a resemblance so close that some counties are starting to restrict renewable energy and data center development on farmland at the same time. This week, Eau Claire County, Wisconsin created a new “farmland preservation plan” discouraging utility-scale solar energy and data centers on any potential farmland. (More than 40% of land in this county is currently being used for farmland, according to Heatmap Pro.)
Jones at Food and Water Watch said his organization taking on the “protect farmland” mantle had nothing to do with the success this argument has had against renewable energy. “That thought never entered my head,” he told me, adding that if communities respond to the data center backlash by taking steps that short-circuit solar and wind too, that’s “a coincidence.”
I kept pressing. What if the pivot to farmland protection leads to more communities restricting renewable energy along with the data centers? “If you’re looking for a reason to oppose solar and wind, you can come up with that without having to attach data centers to it,” Jones said. “We’ve seen rural communities oppose solar and wind before data centers blew up across the country. It’s nothing new.”
And more of the week’s top news around project fights.
1. Virginia Beach, Virginia – The right-wing interest group lawsuit against Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind is now dead, concluding one of the wackier tales of the Trump 2.0 energy era.
2. Box Elder County, Utah – Call it the Box Elder County massacre.
3. Davidson County, Tennessee – We have the latest updates in the Nashville Zoo data center drama and they’re a doozy and a half.
4. Clark County, Ohio – Yet another utility-scale solar farm is in the Ohio state permitting graveyard.