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“Do you ever think about electric cars?”

Between solar roofs, home batteries, and electric vehicles, Tesla could potentially “do more to fight climate change than any other company — perhaps any other entity — in the world,” Walter Isaacson muses in his much-anticipated biography of Elon Musk, out Tuesday.
But while the central character is at times painted as a heroic visionary (Isaacson’s previous subjects have included Steve Jobs, Einstein, and Leonardo da Vinci), the biography also makes it clear that Tesla’s mercurial CEO isn’t always the easiest to work with — or, in the blunter words of Bill Gates, he can be “super mean.” Here are some of the most surprising moments about climate and energy shared in Isaacson’s Elon Musk:
On Musk’s EV passion:
When Elon went with [Peter] Nicholson’s daughter, Christie, to a party one evening, his first question was “Do you ever think about electric cars?” As he later admitted, it was not the world’s best come-on line.
On education:
Musk also focused on electric cars. He and [his friend Robin] Ren would grab lunch from one of the food trucks and sit on the campus lawn, where Musk would read academic papers on batteries. California had just passed a requirement mandating that 10 percent of vehicles by 2003 had to be electric. “I want to go make that happen,” Musk said.
Musk also became convinced that solar power, which in 1994 was just taking off, was the best path toward sustainable energy. His senior paper was titled “The Importance of Being Solar.” He was motivated not just by the dangers of climate change but also by the fact that fossil fuel reserves would start to dwindle. “Society will soon have no option but to focus on renewable power sources,” he wrote. His final page showed a “power station of the future,” involving a satellite with mirrors that would concentrate sunlight onto solar panels and send the resulting electricity back to Earth via a microwave beam. The professor gave him a grade of 98, saying it was a “very interesting and well written paper, except the last figure that comes out of the blue.”
On investing in batteries:
Eager to keep the conversation going, [Tesla co-founder JB] Straubel changed the topic to his idea for building an electric vehicle using lithium-ion batteries. “I was looking for funding and being rather shameless,” he says. Musk expressed surprise when Straubel explained how good the batteries had become. “I was going to work on high-density energy storage at Stanford,” Musk told him. “I was trying to think of what would have the most effect on the world, and energy storage along with electric vehicles were high on my list.” His eyes lit up as he processed Straubel’s calculations. “Count me in,” he said, committing to provide $10,000 in funding.
On building the Gigafactory:
The idea that Musk proposed in 2013 was audacious: build a gigantic battery factory in the U.S. […] There was one problem, Straubel recalls. “We had no clue how to build a battery factory.”
So Musk and Straubel decided to pursue a partnership with their battery supplier, Panasonic […] Musk and Straubel were invited to Japan by Panasonic’s new young president Kazuhiro Tsuga. “It was a come-to-Jesus session where we had to make him truly commit that we were going to build the insane Gigafactory together,” Straubel says.
The dinner was a formal, multicourse affair at a traditional low-table Japanese restaurant. Straubel was fearful about how Musk would behave. “Elon can be so much hell and brimstone in meetings and just unpredictable as all get out,” he says. “But I’ve also seen him flip a switch and suddenly be this incredibly effective, charismatic, high-emotional-intelligence business person, when he has to do it.” At the Panasonic dinner, the charming Musk appeared. He sketched out his vision for moving the world to electric vehicles and why the two companies should do it together. “I was mildly shocked and impressed, because, whoa, this is not like how Elon usually was on other days,” says Straubel. “He’s a person who’s all over the map, and you don’t know what he’s going to say or do. And then, all of a sudden, he pulls it all together.”
On the origins of SolarCity:
“I want to start a new business,” Musk’s cousin Lyndon Rive said as they were driving in an RV to Burning Man, the annual art-and-tech rave in the Nevada desert, at the end of the summer of 2004. “One that can help humanity and address climate change.” “Get into the solar industry,” Musk replied. Lyndon recalls that the answer felt like “my marching orders.” With his brother Peter, he started work on creating a company that would become SolarCity. “Elon provided most of the initial funding,” Peter recalls. “He gave us one clear piece of guidance: get to a scale that would have an impact as fast as possible.”
On buying SolarCity:
When Musk announced the deal in June 2016, he called it a “no-brainer” that was “legally and morally correct.” The acquisition fit with his original “master plan” for Tesla, which he had written in 2006: “The overarching purpose of Tesla Motors is to help expedite the move from a mine-and-burn hydrocarbon economy towards a solar electric economy.”
On hating SolarCity:
The solar roof project caused enormous friction between Musk and his cousins. In August 2016, around the time he was teasing the new product, Peter Rive invited Musk to inspect a version that the company had installed on a customer’s roof. It was a standing-seam metal roof, meaning the solar cells were embedded in sheets of metal rather than tiles. When Musk drove up, Peter and fifteen people were standing in front of the house. “But as often happened,” Peter recalled, “Elon showed up late and then sat in the car looking at his phone while we all just waited very nervously for him to get out.” When he did, it was clear that he was furious. “This is shit,” Musk explained. “Total fucking shit. Horrible. What were you thinking?”
On really, really hating SolarCity:
There were four versions [of solar roofs], including those that looked like French slate and Tuscan barrel tiles, along with a house that featured the metal roof that Musk hated. When Musk visited two days before the scheduled event and saw the metal version, he erupted. “What part of ‘I fucking hate this product’ don’t you understand?” One of the engineers pushed back, saying it looked okay to him and that it was the easiest to install. Musk pulled Peter aside and told him, “I don’t think this guy should be on the team.” Peter fired the engineer and had the metal roof removed before the public event.
On cutting solar roof installation time:
[…] Musk clambered up a ladder to the peak of the roof, where he stood precariously. He was not happy. There were too many fasteners, he said. Each had to be nailed down, adding time to the installation process. “Instead of two nails for each foot, try it with only one,” he ordered. “If the house has a hurricane, the whole neighborhood is fucked up, so who cares? One nail is going to be fine.” Someone protested that could lead to leaks. “Don’t worry about making it as waterproof as a submarine,” he said. “My house in California used to leak. Somewhere between sieve and submarine should be okay.” For a moment he laughed before returning to his dark intensity.
On talking climate with Bill Gates:
“Hey, I’d love to come see you and talk about philanthropy and climate,” Bill Gates said to Musk when they happened to be at the same meeting in early 2022. Musk’s stock sales had led him, for tax reasons, to put $5.7 billion into a charitable fund he had established. Gates, who was then spending most of his time on philanthropy, had many suggestions he wanted to make. They’d had friendly interactions a few times in the past, including when Gates brought his son Rory to SpaceX. [...] Gates argued that batteries would never be able to power large semitrucks and that solar energy would not be a major part of solving the climate problem. “I showed him the numbers,” Gates says. “It’s an area where I clearly knew something that he didn’t.” He also gave Musk a hard time on Mars. “I’m not a Mars person,” Gates later told me. “He’s overboard on Mars. I let him explain his Mars thinking to me, which is kind of bizarre thinking. It’s this crazy thing where maybe there’s a nuclear war on Earth and so the people on Mars are there and they’ll come back down and, you know, be alive after we all kill each other.”
On dismissing climate philanthropy:
At the end of the tour, [Gates and Musk’s] conversation turned to philanthropy. Musk expressed his view that most of it was “bullshit.” There was only a twenty-cent impact for every dollar put in, he estimated. He could do more good for climate change by investing in Tesla.
On Bill Gates’ betrayal:
There was one contentious issue that [Bill Gates and Elon Musk] had to address. Gates had shorted Tesla stock, placing a big bet that it would go down in value […] Short-sellers occupied [Musk’s] innermost circle of hell. Gates said he was sorry, but that did not placate Musk. “I apologized to him,” Gates says. “Once he heard I’d shorted the stock, he was super mean to me, but he’s super mean to so many people, so you can’t take it too personally.”
[...] When I asked Gates why he had shorted Tesla, he explained that he had calculated that the supply of electric cars would get ahead of demand, causing prices to fall. I nodded but still had the same question: Why had he shorted the stock? Gates looked at me as if I had not understood what he just explained and then replied as if the answer was obvious: he thought that by shorting Tesla he could make money. That way of thinking was alien to Musk. He believed in the mission of moving the world to electric vehicles, and he put all of his available money toward that goal, even when it did not seem like a safe investment. “How can someone say they are passionate about fighting climate change and then do something that reduced the overall investment in the company doing the most?” he asked me a few days after Gates’s visit. “It’s pure hypocrisy. Why make money on the failure of a sustainable energy car company?”
On rejection:
Gates followed up in mid-April, sending Musk the promised paper on philanthropy options that he had personally written [...] “Sorry,” Musk shot back instantly. “I cannot take your philanthropy on climate seriously when you have a massive short position against Tesla, the company doing the most to solve climate change.” When angry, Musk can get mean, especially on Twitter. He tweeted a picture of Gates in a golf shirt with a bulging belly that made him look almost pregnant. “In case u need to lose a boner fast,” Musk’s comment read.
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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.
On Greenland’s rare earths, Baker Hughes’ geothermal bet, China’s green H2
Current conditions: A sprawling heat dome stretching from the Midwest to the East Coast is raising temperatures for more than 200 million Americans upward of 100 degrees Fahrenheit this week • Three firefighters died battling wildfires along the Colorado-Utah border on Saturday, while winds fanned the flames of the Cottonwood Fire in southwest Utah into the largest blaze in the U.S. right now • Back-to-back tropical storms Mekkhala and Higos battered Japan’s coast over the weekend, leaving at least one dead in a landslide.
For much of the past decade, Japan looked primed for offshore wind development for the same reasons the American industry first took root in the Northeast: It’s coastal, densely populated, and — with its nuclear power stations either shut down or idled — it’s more reliant on fossil fuels that it doesn’t locally produce than ever before. But building turbines off Japan’s shores has proven tricky as project costs ballooned. On Friday, Norway’s Equinor announced its decision to close its offshore wind division in Japan, after failing to win any leases at repeated auctions over the past eight years. “This decision reflects a reassessment of Equinor’s strategic direction, with a strengthened focus on integrated power markets,” the company said in a statement on its Japanese website.
The move comes two years after Denmark’s Orsted exited Japan. Last August, a consortium led by the industrial giant Mitsubishi pulled out of Japan’s first three offshore wind projects citing what Reuters described as concerns of surging costs. Last October, as I told you at the time, the newly elected government of Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi postponed a key procedural step for setting government funding levels for offshore wind projects. Instead, as you may recall, Takaichi has put a heavy focus on restarting the nuclear reactors mothballed after the 2011 Fukushima disaster and even expanding the fleet.

For much of the 20th century, the geopolitical relevance of the world’s largest island stemmed from its central location as a kind of poker table situated right where Washington, Brussels, and Moscow meet. More recently, it’s been about Greenland’s untapped mineral riches. As polar ice recedes, the autonomous Danish territory has opened previously inaccessible deposits of rare earths and copper to prospecting. For Greenland, whose population of fewer than 60,000 is roughly 85% Indigenous, mining has offered an opportunity to diversify its economy beyond just fishing, augmenting an expanding tourism sector with some heavy industry. In 2017, when I visited local political officials in Nuuk, the capital, sustainability-minded liberals pined for an alternative development approach that took advantage of Greenland’s unique and pristine wilderness to, for example, build out a biomedical industry that draws upon research into the survival traits that allow life to thrive in harsh polar environments. At the time, the populists pitching industrialism as a fast track to independence seemed, to me at least, destined to win the argument. But the green techno-optimists may yet get the chance to prove their approach.
Last week, regulators in Nuuk formally rejected an Australian mining company’s bid to renew its exploration license for one of the most advanced rare earths projects in Greenland. The Western Australia-based Energy Transition Minerals had been locked in litigation with the Greenlandic government over whether its project could safely extract rare earths such as neodymium, praseodymium, and terbium for magnets and batteries without producing uranium as a byproduct. A previous government in Greenland had banned uranium mining in 2021, effectively halting ETM’s Kvanefjeld project. But the company had told investors in February that it “remains confident in the merits” of its position in negotiations with Greenland and “resolute in our intention to develop Kvanefjeld responsibly and in accordance with international best practice.” Just last week, the company published data showing that it had identified 10 new rare earth deposits “with uranium levels recorded below regulatory thresholds.” If it factored into negotiations at all, it wasn’t enough to change the outcome. Following the rejection on Friday, the company told Reuters: “Greenland has positioned itself as open for business. This decision creates a different impression.” In a sign of how the political winds may be shifting, the headline on Sunday’s front-page story in Sermitsiaq, one of Greenland’s only national newspapers, warned of the “environmental bombs” coming just from future American military bases on the island.
Of all the ways to build up, shore up, and clean up America’s grid, geothermal energy is easily among the most elegant, narratively speaking. We already quietly operate the world’s largest geothermal power plant. The new generation of companies racing to build new power stations require the very same battle-hardened drilling equipment, technologies, and workers that sustained the fracking boom and turned the U.S. into a top global producer of oil and gas. Many of the best-mapped hot rocks are located out west, where the federal government owns vast tracts of land, meaning the strong bipartisan consensus in support of geothermal energy development can, in fact, translate into faster approvals for projects. It’s a bet that one of the nation’s largest oilfield services providers is now making. Last week, Baker Hughes inked a deal with the geothermal developer Mantle Reach Power to support construction of as much as 500 megawatts of new generating capacity. As part of the deal, Baker Hughes will provide its drilling technologies, in a move the company said would “de-risk and deliver” on the promises of geothermal power. “Geothermal is a clean power solution that is proving to be a vital contributor to advancing sustainable energy development, with incredible potential to enhance U.S. energy security, support digital infrastructure, and ensure energy remains accessible and affordable,” Baker Hughes CEO Lorenzo Simonelli said in a statement.
Meanwhile, federal regulators just approved the environmental review of a new conventional geothermal project. Once complete, Ormat Technologies’ Pearl geothermal project in Nevada’s Esmeralda County will generate up to 60 megawatts of power. It’s just the latest approval of what Think Geo Energy called a series of approvals for Ormat’s proposed expansion in Nevada.
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Even before the Iran War, momentum was gathering in China for a green hydrogen buildout. The “most important low-carbon policy for 2025,” according to the analyst Jian Wu, was China’s decision to start subsidizing green hydrogen-related applications from central government coffers for the first time as Beijing sought to wean off fossil fuel imports and make use of solar and wind farms that had grown so abundant that the country’s grid operators recently phased out key incentives for renewables. Since the war, Beijing has turned its attention to shoring up its domestic fuel supplies, whether by increasing its domestic drilling, chemically-processing coal, or zapping water with enough renewable electricity to cleanly separate out the hydrogen molecules. Now it’s placing a big bet on the latter. China just put out a new five-year plan for the energy sector with a goal to install more than 2 million metric tons of annual capacity to produce green hydrogen by the end of the decade, Hydrogen Insight reported. That would more than double the existing capacity.
Overall, the document raises the target for China to generate half its electricity from non-fossil sources by 2030. But its goals for the wind and solar sectors represent a significant slowdown from the recent pace of development, indicating the government’s interest in diversifying its carbon-free electricity sector.
At present, I see three guarantees in my life: Death, taxes, and the likelihood that another Chinese nuclear plant will make significant enough progress to merit telling you about it. Readers hoping to understand the stakes of America’s incipient nuclear renaissance are wise to keep track of how successfully China’s state-owned reactor developers have been building their own domestically-sourced version of the flagship U.S. reactor design. I can’t keep track of how many times we have covered Chinese reactor milestones. But add this to the list: Last week, World Nuclear News reported, the second of six Hualong One reactors at the Taipingling nuclear power plant in Guangdong province started up, sustaining a chain reaction for the first time. The speed with which China General Nuclear completed the domestically-supplied reactor — the design for which is largely cribbed from the Westinghouse AP1000 — highlights the strategy American atomic energy advocates are increasingly promoting. A nonprofit called the Nuclear Scaling Initiative launched in 2024 to propound the idea of focusing on reactors that can be built identically over and over.
Investors debate the right way to bet on the nuclear revival, and the growing list of startups debuting on the stock market through reverse merger deals that require less scrutiny than traditional initial public offerings provides ample grist for disagreement. But here’s a surefire wrong way: Selling $1.5 million of call option contracts for your employer’s stock on the day of a major announcement that you are playing a pivotal role in overseeing. Yet that’s exactly what the Department of Justice accuses Casey Muggleston, a former engineering manager in charge of relicensing the shuttered Three Mile Island power plant, of doing on the very day his employer, Constellation, announced a landmark deal with Microsoft to reopen the facility to supply its data centers with electricity. If convicted, Muggleston could face a maximum of 25 years in prison, according to ABC27, a TV news station in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
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.