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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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Pennsylvania is out, Virginia wants in, and New Jersey is treating it like a piggybank.
The Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative has been quietly accelerating the energy transition in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast since 2005. Lately, however, the noise around the carbon market has gotten louder as many of the compact’s member states have seen rising energy prices dominate their local politics.
What is RGGI, exactly? How does it work? And what does it have to do with the race for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination?
Read on:
The Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative is a cap and trade market with roots in a multistate compact formed in 2005 involving Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, and Vermont.
The goal was to reduce emissions, and the mechanism would be regular auctions for emissions “allowances,” which large carbon-emitting electricity generators would have to purchase at auction. Over time, the total number of allowances in circulation would shrink, making each one more expensive and encouraging companies to reduce their emissions. The cap started at 188 million short tons of carbon and has been dropping steadily ever since, with an eventual target of under 10 million by 2037.
By the time of the first auction in 2008, six states were fully participating — Delaware, New Hampshire, New Jersey, and New York were out; Maryland, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island were in — and together they raised almost $39 million. By the second auction later that year, 10 states — the six from the previous auction, plus New York, New Jersey, New Hampshire, and Delaware — were fully participating.
Membership has grown and shrunk over the years (for reasons we’ll cover below) but the current makeup is the same as it was at the end of 2008.
When carbon pricing schemes were first dreamt up by economists, the basic thinking was that by taxing something bad (carbon emissions) you could reduce taxes on something good (like wages or income). Real existing carbon pricing schemes, however, have tended to put their proceeds toward further decarbonization rather than reducing taxes or other costs.
In the case of the RGGI, the bulk of revenue goes to fund state climate programs. About two-thirds of investments from RGGI revenues in 2023 went to energy efficiency programs, which have received 56% of the system’s cumulative investments. By contrast, 15% of the 2023 investments (and 15% of the all-time investments) went to “direct bill assistance,” i.e. lowering utility bills.
Carbon dioxide emissions from the power sector have fallen by 40% to 50% in the RGGI territory since the program began — faster than in the U.S. as a whole.
That’s in part because the areas covered by RGGI have seen some of the sharpest transitions away from coal-fired power. New England, for instance, saw its last coal plant shut down late last year.
But it’s not always easy to figure out what was the effect of RGGI versus broader shifts in the energy industry. In the emissions-trading system’s early years, allowance prices were very low, and actual emissions fell well below the cap. That was largely due to factors affecting the country as a whole, including sluggish demand growth for electricity. The fracking boom also sent natural gas prices plunging, accelerating the switch from coal to gas and decelerating carbon dioxide emissions from the power sector (although this effect may have been more limited in the RGGI region, much of which has insufficient natural gas pipeline capacity).
That said, RGGI still might have helped tip the scales, Dallas Burtraw, a senior fellow at Resources for the Future, told me.
“It takes only a modest carbon price to really push out coal,” he said, pointing to the experience of RGGI and arguing that it could be replicated in other states. A 2016 paper by Man-Kuen Kim and Taehoo kim published in Energy Economics found “strong evidence that coal to gas switching has been actually accelerated by RGGI implementation.”
That trick doesn’t work as well now as it used to, though. “For the first 10 years or so, the primary margin for achieving emission reductions was substitution from coal to gas,” Burtraw told me. Then renewables prices began to drop “precipitously” in the early 2010s, opening up the opportunity for more thoroughgoing decarbonization beyond just getting rid of coal. “Going forward, I think program advocates would say that now you’re seeing the move from gas to renewables with storage,” he said.
When RGGI went through its regular program review in 2012 (these happen every few years; the third was completed last year), the target had to be wrenched downward to account for the actual path of emissions, which had dropped far more quickly than the cap.
“Soon after the start of RGGI, it became apparent that the number of allowances in the emissions budget was higher than actual emissions. Allowance prices consequently dropped, making it particularly inexpensive to purchase allowances and bank them for use in later periods,” a case study published by the Environmental Defense Fund found. In other words, because there was such a gap between the proscribed cap and actual emissions, generators had been able to squirrel away enough allowances to make future caps ineffective.
The arguments against the RGGI have been relatively constant and will be familiar to anyone following debates over energy and climate policy: RGGI raises prices for consumers, its opponents say. It pushes out reliable and cheaper energy sources, and thereby threatens jobs in fossil fuel generation and infrastructure. Also the particulars of how a state joins or exits the group have often come up for debate.
Three states have proved troublesome, including one original member and two later joiners: New Jersey, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. All three states are sizable energy consumers, and Virginia and Pennsylvania have substantial fossil fuel infrastructure and production.
New Jersey quickly expressed its discontent. In 2011, New Jersey’s Republican Governor Chris Christie decided to take the state out of the market, saying that it was unnecessary and costly. Democrat Phil Murphy, Christie’s successor, brought it back in 2020 as part of a broader agenda to decarbonize New Jersey’s economy.
Pennsylvania attempted to join next, in 2019, but ran into legal hurdles almost immediately. Governor Tom Wolf, a Democrat, issued an executive order in 2019 to set up carbon trading in the state, and state regulators got to work drawing up rules to allow Pennsylvania to link up with RGGI, formally joining in 2022.
But the following year, a Pennsylvania court ruled that the state was not able to participate because the regulatory work ordered by Wolf had been approved by the legislature. The case worked its way up to the state’s highest court last spring, but got tossed in January after Governor Josh Shapiro, a Democrat, made a budget deal with the state legislature late last year removing Pennsylvania from RGGI once and for all — more on that below.
Virginia was the last new state to join in 2020, under Democratic Governor Ralph Northam, who said that by joining, Virginia was “sending a powerful signal that our commonwealth is committed to fighting climate change and securing a clean energy future.” A year later, however, Northam lost the governorship to Republican Glenn Youngkin, who removed Virginia from RGGI at the end of 2023.
Youngkin described the exit — technically a choice made by state regulators — as a “commonsense decision by the Air Board to repeal RGGI protects Virginians from the failed program that is not only a regressive tax on families and businesses across the Commonwealth, but also does nothing to reduce pollution.”
Pennsylvania fits uneasily into the Northeastern–blue hue of the RGGI’s core states. It’s larger than any state in the system besides New York, right down the center politically, and is a substantial producer and exporter of electricity, much of it coming from fossil fuels (and nuclear power). It also has lower electricity costs than its neighbors to the east.
Pennsylvania’s governor, Josh Shapiro, is widely expected to run for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2028, and has put reining in electricity costs at the center of his messaging of late. He sued PJM, the mid-Atlantic electricity market at the end of 2024, and won a settlement to cap costs in the system’s capacity auctions. He also helped negotiate a “statement of principles” with the White House in order to potentially get those caps extended. And earlier this month, he met with utility executives “to discuss steps they can take to lower utility costs and protect consumers,” Will Simons, a spokesperson for the governor, said.
Pennsylvania’s permanent and undisputed inclusion in the RGGI system would be a coup. Unlike its neighbor RGGI states, including Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, and New York, Pennsylvania still has a meaningful coal industry, meaning that its emissions could potentially fall substantially with a modest carbon price. It would also provide some relief to the rest of the system by notching significant emissions reductions at lower cost, meaning that electricity prices would likely be minimally affected or even go down, according to research done in 2023 by Burtraw, Angela Pachon, and Maya Domeshek.
“Pennsylvania is the source of a lot of low-cost emission reductions precisely because it still retains that coal-to-gas margin,” Burtraw said. “It looks the way the Northeastern states looked 15 years ago.”
But alas, it won’t happen. As part of a budget deal with Republicans reached late last year, Pennsylvania exited RGGI. That Shapiro would be willing to sacrifice RGGI isn’t shocking considering his record — when he ran for governor in 2021, he often put more emphasis on investing in clean energy than restricting fossil fuels. As governor, he has pushed for regulatory reforms, and even a Pennsylvania-specific cap and trade program, but Senate Republicans made RGGI exit the price of any energy policy talks.
Virginia may be ready to return to the fold.
“For me, this is about cost savings,” newly installed governor Abigail Spanberger said in her inaugural address. “RGGI generated hundreds of millions of dollars for Virginia — dollars that went directly to flood mitigation, energy efficiency programs, and lowering bills for families who need help most.” Furthermore, “withdrawing from RGGI did not lower energy costs,” she said. “In fact, the opposite happened — it just took money out of Virginia’s pocket,” referring to lost gains from RGGI auctions. (Research by Burtraw, Maya Domeshek, and Karen Palmer found that RGGI participation was the “lowest-cost way” of achieving the state’s statutory emissions reductions goals and that the funded investment investments in efficiency will likely drive down household costs.)
Virginia’s newly elected Attorney General Jay Jones also reversed the position of his Republican predecessor, signing on to litigation against Youngkin’s withdrawal from the program, arguing that the governor lacked the legal authority to withdraw from the program in the first place —the inverse of Pennsylvania’s legal tangle over RGGI.
New Jersey, too, has a new governor, Democrat Mikie Sherrill. In a set of executive orders, signed before she had even finished her inaugural address, Sherrill directed New Jersey economic, environment, and utility regulatory officials to “confer about the use of Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative … proceeds for ratepayer relief,” and “include an explanation of how they intend to address ratepayer relief in the 2026-2028 RGGI Strategic Funding Plan.”
Ratepayers are already due to receive RGGI funding under New Jersey’s current strategic funding plan, as are environmental protection and energy efficiency programs, renewable and transmission investments, and a grab-bag of other climate related projects. New Jersey utility regulators last fall made a $430 million distribution to ratepayers in the form of two $50 bill credits, with additional $25 a month credits for low-income ratepayers.
The evolution of RGGI — and its use by New Jersey to reduce electricity bills in particular — shows how carbon mitigation programs have had to adapt to political realities.
“In the political context of the moment, I think it’s totally fair,” Burtraw told me of Sherrill’s plan. “It’s the worst good idea of what you can do with the carbon proceeds. Everybody in the room can come up with better ideas: Oh, we should be doing this investment, or we should be doing energy efficiency, or we should subsidize renewables. Show me that those ideas are a higher value use for that money and I’m all in. But we could at least be doing this.”
What remains to be seen is whether other states pick up the torch from Sherrill and start using RGGI as a way to more directly combat electricity price hikes. Her actions “could create ripple effects for other states that may face similar concerns,” Olivia Windorf, U.S. policy fellow at the Center for Climate and Energy Solutions, told me.
While RGGI tends to be in the news in the individual states only when there’s some controversy about entering or exiting the program, “the focus on electricity prices and affordability is putting a new spotlight on it,” Windorf said.
More aggressive or creative uses of the proceeds would put RGGI closer to the center of debates around affordability. “I think it will help address affordability concerns in a way that's really tangible,” Windorf said. “So it’s not abstract how carbon markets and RGGI can help through this time of load growth and energy transition. It can be a tool rather than a burden.”
The Army Corps of Engineers is out to protect “the beauty of the Nation’s natural landscape.”
A new Trump administration policy is indefinitely delaying necessary water permits for solar and wind projects across the country, including those located entirely on private land.
The Army Corps of Engineers published a brief notice to its website in September stating that Adam Telle, the Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works, had directed the agency to consider whether it should weigh a project’s “energy density” – as in the ratio of acres used for a project compared to its power generation capacity – when issuing permits and approvals. The notice ended on a vague note, stating that the Corps would also consider whether the projects “denigrate the aesthetics of America’s natural landscape.”
Prioritizing the amount of energy generation per acre will naturally benefit fossil fuel projects and diminish renewable energy, which requires larger amounts of land to provide the same level of power. The Department of the Interior used this same tactic earlier in the year to delay permits.
Now we know the full extent of the delays wrought by that notice thanks to a copy of the Army Corps’ formal guidance on issuing permits under the Clean Water Act or approvals related to the Rivers and Harbors Act, a 1899 law governing discharges into navigable waters. That guidance was made public for the first time in a lawsuit filed in December by renewable trade associations against Trump’s actions to delay, pause, or deny renewables permits.
The guidance submitted in court by the trade groups states that the Corps will scrutinize the potential energy generation per acre of any permit request from an energy project developer, as well as whether an “alternative energy generation source can deliver the same amount of generation” while making less of an impact on the “aquatic environment.” The Corps is now also prioritizing permit applications for projects “that would generate the most annual potential energy generation per acre over projects with low potential generation per acre.”
Lastly, the Corps will also scrutinize “whether activities related to the projects denigrate the beauty of the Nation’s natural landscape” when deciding whether to issue these permits. That last factor – aesthetics – is in fact a part of the Army Corps’ permitting regulations, but I have not seen any previous administration halt renewable energy permits because officials think solar farms and wind turbines are an eyesore.
Jennifer Neumann, a former career Justice Department attorney who oversaw the agency’s water-related casework with the Army Corps for a decade, told me she had never seen the Corps cite aesthetics in this way. The issue has “never really been litigated,” she said. “I have never seen a situation where the Corps has applied [this].”
The renewable energy industry’s amended complaint in the lawsuit, which is slowly proceeding in federal court, claims the Corps’ guidance will lead to “many costly project redesigns” and delays, “resulting in contract penalties, cost hikes, and deferred revenue.” Other projects “may never get their Corps individual permits and thus will need to be canceled altogether.”
In addition, executives for the trade associations submitted a sworn declaration laying out how they’re being harmed by the Corps guidance, as well as a host of other federal actions against the renewable energy sector. To illustrate those harms they laid out an example: French energy developer ENGIE, they said, was required to “re-engineer” its Empire Prairie wind and solar farm in Missouri because the guidance “effectively precludes” it from getting a permit from the Army Corps. This cost ENGIE millions of dollars, per the declaration, and extended the construction timeline while ultimately also making the project less efficient.
Notably, Empire Prairie is located entirely on private land. It isn’t entirely clear from the declaration why the project had to be redesigned, and there is scant publicly available information about it aside from a basic website. The area where Empire Prairie is being built, however, is tricky for development; segments of the project are located in counties – DeKalb and Andrew – that have 88 and 99 opposition risk scores, respectively, per Heatmap Pro.
Renewable energy developers require these water permits from the Army Corps when their construction zone includes more than half an acre of federally designated wetlands or bodies of water protected under the Rivers and Harbors Act. Neumann told me that developers with impacts of half an acre or less may skirt the need for a permit application if their project qualifies for what’s known as a “nationwide permit,” which only requires verification from the Corps that a company complies with the requirements.
Even the simple verification process for Corps permits has been short-circuited by other actions from the administration. Developers are currently unable to access a crucial database overseen by the Fish and Wildlife Service to determine whether their projects impacts species protected under the Endangered Species Act, which in turn effectively “prevents wind and solar developers from (among other things) obtaining Corps nationwide permits for their projects,” according to the declaration from trade group executives.
But hey, look on the bright side. At least the Trump administration is in the initial phases of trying to pare back federal wetlands protections. So there’s a chance that eliminating federal environmental protections might benefit some solar and wind companies out there. How many? It’s quite unclear given the ever-changing nature of wetlands designations and opaque data available on how many projects are being built within those areas.
Dane County, Wisconsin – The QTS data center project we’ve been tracking closely is now dead, after town staff in the host community of DeForest declared its plans “unfeasible.”
Marathon County, Wisconsin – Elsewhere in Wisconsin, this county just voted to lobby the state’s association of counties to fight for more local control over renewable energy development.
Huntington County, Indiana – Meanwhile in Indiana, we have yet another loud-and-proud county banning data centers.
DeKalb County, Georgia – This populous Atlanta-adjacent county is also on the precipice of a data center moratorium, but is waiting for pending state legislation before making a move.
New York – Multiple localities in the Empire State are yet again clamping down on battery storage. Let’s go over the damage for the battery bros.