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Why regional transmission organizations as we know them might not survive the data center boom.

As the United States faces its first significant increase in electricity demand in decades, the grid itself is not only aging, but also straining against the financial, logistical, and legal barriers to adding new supply. It’s enough to make you wonder: What’s the point of an electricity market, anyway?
That’s the question some stakeholders in the PJM Interconnection, America’s largest electricity market, started asking loudly and in public in response to the grid operator’s proposal that new large energy users could become “non-capacity backed load,” i.e. be forced to turn off if ever and whenever PJM deems it necessary.
PJM, which covers 13 states from the Mid-Atlantic to the Midwest, has been America’s poster child for the struggle to get new generation online as data center development surges. PJM has warned that it will have “just enough generation to meet its reliability requirement” in 2026 and 2027, and its independent market monitor has said that the costs associated with serving that new and forecast demand have already reached the billions, translating to higher retail electricity rates in several PJM states.
As Heatmap has covered, however, basically no one in the PJM system — transmission owners, power producers, and data center developers — was happy with the details of PJM’s plan to deal with the situation. In public comments on the proposed rule, many brought up a central conflict between utilities’ historic duty to serve and the realities of the modern power market. More specifically, electricity markets like PJM are supposed to deal with wholesale electricity sales, not the kind of core questions of who gets served and when, which are left to the states.
On the power producer side, major East Coast supplier Talen Energy wrote, “The NCBL proposal exceeds PJM’s authority by establishing a regime where PJM holds the power to withhold electric service unlawfully from certain categories of large load.” The utility Exelon added that owners of transmission “have a responsibility to serve all customers—large, small, and in between. We are obligated to provide both retail and wholesale electric service safely and reliably.” And last but far from least, Microsoft, which has made itself into a leader in artificial intelligence, argued, “A PJM rule curtailing non-capacity-backed load would not only unlawfully intrude on state authority, but it would also fundamentally undercut the very purpose of PJM’s capacity market.”
This is just one small piece of a debate that’s been heating up for years, however, as more market participants, activists, and scholars question whether the markets that govern much of the U.S. electric grid are delivering power as cheaply and abundantly as they were promised to. Some have even suggested letting PJM utilities build their own power plants again, effectively reversing the market structure of the past few decades.
But questioning whether all load must be served would be an even bigger change.
The “obligation to serve all load has been a core tenet of electricity policy,” Rob Gramlich, the president of Grid Strategies LLC, told me. “I don’t recall ever seeing that be questioned or challenged in any fundamental way” — an illustration of how dire things have become.
The U.S. electricity system was designed for abundance. Utilities would serve any user, and the per-user costs of developing the fixed infrastructure necessary to serve them would drop as more users signed up.
But the planned rush of data center investments threatens to stick all ratepayers with the cost of new transmission and generation that is overwhelmingly from one class of customer. There is already a brewing local backlash to new data centers, and electricity prices have been rising faster than inflation. New data center load could also have climate consequences if utilities decide to leave aging coal online and build out new natural gas-fired power plants over and above their pre-data center boom (and pre-Trump) plans.
“AI has dramatically raised the stakes, along with enhancing worries that heightened demand will mean more burning of fossil fuels,” law professors Alexandra Klass of the University of Michigan and Dave Owen at the University of California write in a preprint paper to be published next year.
In an interview, Klass told me, “There are huge economic and climate implications if we build a whole lot of gas and keep coal on, and then demand is lower because the chips are better,” referring to the possibility that data centers and large language models could become dramatically more energy efficient, rendering the additional fossil fuel-powered supply unnecessary. Even if the projects are not fully built out or utilized, the country could face a situation where “ratepayers have already paid for [grid infrastructure], whether it’s through those wholesale markets or through their utilities in traditionally regulated states,” she said.
The core tension between AI development and the power grid, Klass and Owen argue, is the “duty to serve,” or “universal service” principle that has underlain modern electricity markets for over a century.
“The duty to serve — to meet need at pretty much all times — worked for utilities because they got to pass through their costs, and it largely worked for consumers because they didn’t have to deal very often with unpredictable blackouts,” Owen told me.
“Once you knew how to build transmission lines and build power plants,” Klass added, “there was no sense that you couldn’t continue to build to serve all customers. “We could build power plants, and the regulatory regime came up in a context where we could always build enough to meet demand.”
How and why goes back to the earliest days of electrification.
As the power industry developed in the late 19th and early 20th century, the regulated utility model emerged where monopoly utilities would build both power plants and the transmission and distribution infrastructure necessary to serve that power to customers. So that they would be able to achieve the economies of scale required to serve said customers efficiently and affordably, regulators allowed them to establish monopolies over certain service territories, with the requirement that they would serve any and everyone in them.
With a secure base of ratepayers, utilities could raise money from investors to build infrastructure, which could then be put into a “rate base” and recouped from ratepayers over time at a fixed return. In exchange, the utilities accepted regulation from state governments over their pricing and future development trajectories.
That vertically integrated system began to crack, however, as ratepayers revolted over high costs from capital investments by utilities, especially from nuclear power plants. Following the deregulation of industries such as trucking and air travel, federal regulators began to try to break up the distribution and generation portions of the electricity industry. In 1999, after some states and regions had already begun to restructure their electricity markets, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission encouraged the creation of regional transmission organizations like PJM.
Today some 35 state electricity markets are partially or entirely restructured, with Texas operating its own, isolated electricity market beyond the reach of federal regulation. In PJM and other RTOs, electricity is (more or less) sold competitively on a wholesale basis by independent power producers to utilities, who then serve customers.
But the system as it’s constructed now may, critics argue, expose retail customers to unacceptable cost increases — and greenhouse gas emissions — as it attempts to grapple with serving new data center load.
Klass and Owen, for their part, point to other markets as models for how electricity could work that don’t involve the same assumptions of plentiful supply that electricity markets historically have, such as those governing natural gas or even Western water rights.
Interruptions of natural gas service became more common starting in the 1970s, when some natural gas services were underpriced thanks to price caps, leading to an imbalance between supply and demand. In response, regulators “established a national policy of curtailment based on end use,” Klass and Owen write, with residential users getting priority “because of their essential heating needs, followed by firm industrial and commercial customers, and finally, interruptible customers.” Natural gas was deregulated in the late 1970s and 1980s, with curtailment becoming more market-based, which also allowed natural gas customers to trade capacity with each other.
Western water rights, meanwhile, are notoriously opaque and contested — but, importantly, they are based on scarcity, and thus may provide lessons in an era of limited electricity supply. The “prior appropriation” system water markets use is, “at its core, a set of mechanisms for allocating shortage,” the authors write. Water users have “senior” and “junior” rights, with senior users “entitled to have their rights fulfilled before the holders of newer, or more ’junior,’ water rights.” These rights can be transferred, and junior users have found ways to work with what water they can get, with the authors citing extensive conservation efforts in Southern California compared to the San Francisco Bay area, which tends to have more senior rights.
With these models in mind, Klass and Owen propose a system called “demand side connect-and-manage,” whereby new loads would not necessarily get transmission and generation service at all times, and where utilities could curtail users and electricity customers would have the ability “to use trading to hedge against the risk of curtailments.”
“We can connect you now before we build a whole lot of new generation, but when we need to, we’re going to curtail you,” Klass said, describing her and Owen’s proposal.
Tyler Norris, a Duke University researcher who has published concept-defining work on data center flexibility, called the paper “one of the most important contributions yet toward the re-examination of basic assumptions of U.S. electricity law that’s urgently needed as hyperscale load growth pushes our existing regulatory system beyond its limits.”
While electricity may not be literally drying up, he told me, “when you are supply side constrained while demand is growing, you have this challenge of, how do you allocate scarcity?”
Unlike the PJM proposals, “Our paper was very focused on state law,” Klass told me. “And that was intentional, because I think this is trickier at the federal level,” she told me.
Some states are already embracing similar ideas. Ohio regulators, for instance, established a data center tariff that tries to protect customers from higher costs by forcing data centers to make minimum payments regardless of their actual electricity use. Texas also passed a law that would allow for some curtailment of large loads and reforms of the interconnection process to avoid filling up the interconnection queue with speculative projects that could result in infrastructure costs but not real electricity demand.
Klass and Owen write that their idea may be more of “a temporary bridging strategy, primarily for periods when peak demand outstrips supply or at least threatens to do so.”
Even those who don’t think the principles underlying electricity markets need to be rethought see the need — at least in the short term — for new options for large new power users who may not get all the power they want all of the time.
“Some non-firm options are necessary in the short term,” Gramlich told me, referring to ideas like Klass and Owen’s, Norris’s, and PJM’s. “Some of them are going to have some legal infirmities and jurisdictional problems. But I think no matter what, we’re going to see some non-firm options. A lot of customers, a lot of these large loads, are very interested, even if it’s a temporary way to get connected while they try to get the firm service later.”
If electricity markets have worked for over one hundred years on the principle that more customers could bring down costs for everyone, going forward, we may have to get more choosy — or pay the price.
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Automakers aren’t sure what to do with their EVs in the age of Trump.
The Los Angeles Auto Show over the years has been the launchpad for lots of new electric vehicles and a place for carmakers to declare their EV ambitions. It’s a fitting stage given California’s status not only as the home of American car culture, but also as the United States’ biggest EV market by far.
At the 2025 show, which had its media day on Thursday, electrification was more off to the side than front-and-center, however. The new breed of affordable models that could give many more drivers access to the electric car market — such as the Nissan Leaf and Chevy Bolt revivals and the upcoming Toyota C-HR electric — could be found on the show floor, waiting to be discovered by the car fans who would descend on the L.A. Convention Center in the days to come.
But fanfare over the electric future was decidedly tamped down. The atmosphere reflected the uneasy state of EVs in America in this first year of the new Trump administration. During Kia’s press conference to start the day, for example, the EV9 three-row electric crossover lingered at the edge of the stage while brand bigwigs revealed a redesign of its petroleum-powered cousin, the best-selling Telluride, whose climate credentials go only as far as a 30-miles-per-gallon hybrid version.
Hyundai has been perhaps the most successful brand outside of Tesla in selling America on EVs, but its L.A. presentation pushed battery power into niche corners of the car world, the racetrack and the trail. One of its two attractions was the North American reveal of the limited-edition Ioniq 6N, the powered-up sports car version of the Ioniq 6 electric sedan, which the brand revealed at this very show three years ago.
This 641-horsepower battery-powered beast was an inevitability, given that Hyundai’s high-performance “N” division has built limited-edition racing versions of many of the carmakers’ stock vehicles, and its muscular version of the Ioniq 5 hatchback has been one of the best-regarded performance-focused EVs yet to hit the car market. Like its predecessor, Ioniq 6N is a test case in how to make electric power appeal to car enthusiasts who crave stick shifts and snarling V8s, so Hyundai built in simulated gear shifts and sounds to simulate the sensations of pushing a combustion car to its limits.
More compelling — and curious — was the Crater, the kind of otherworldly angular tank that Tesla’s Cybertruck wishes it were. A concept car rather than a vehicle ready to go into real production, the Crater is meant to signify the vision of Hyundai’s XRT sub-brand that makes off-roading versions of the brand’s vehicles, combustion ones included.
Although Hyundai barely said the “e” word during its presentation, Crater is meant to at least suggest an all-electric version of a supremely rugged vehicle that would compete with the likes of the Jeep Wrangler and Ford Bronco. The concept has no tailpipe or engine, and the pixelated lights are taken from those used on the Ioniq series. Yet even this is uncertain: Having been burned by the back-and-forth of regime change in America, with Biden-era EV incentives disappearing just as the Korean brands were adjusting their production lines to meet the rules, the carmakers are wondering how hard to push battery power here.
Even the all-electric car brands didn’t arrive with sound and fury to show off all-new cars that would invigorate the EV market. Instead, they are doing the slow and steady work that legacy car companies have been doing for years, hoping to build long-term stability by filling out their vehicle lineups with more subtly different versions at more price points.
The Rivian R2 sat at the edge of the brand’s small display, giving many people their first in-person look at what could be the make-or-break vehicle for the EV startup. Its quiet presence was a subtle reminder that the smaller SUV is coming next year at a promised price of around $45,000, which would provide a (more) affordable option for drivers who’ve lusted after the brand’s $70,000-plus initial slate of electric SUVs and pickup trucks.
Likewise, Lucid took the mic after Hyundai to introduce a somewhat more attainable version of its electric SUV. The Gravity Touring edition brings the vehicle’s starting price from six figures down to $80,000, thanks in part to a smaller battery pack that still delivers more than 300 miles of range thanks to the carmaker’s hyper-focus on aerodynamics and efficiency. The price is still high, but this is a compelling vehicle: Gravity is a spacious three-row vehicle that goes 0 to 60 miles per hour in four seconds and recharges its battery at blazing speed thanks to 1,000-volt architecture that can add a claimed 200 miles in 15 minutes.
Car show stories come with a big caveat: These events don’t have the status they did in the heyday of old media, when new vehicles greeted the world for the first time in front of the assembled reporters. Tesla has always hosted its own vehicle events rather than share the stage, and these days, lots of brands have followed suit. Rivan revealed the R2 and R3 on its own turn last year, which is why the R2 could loom, unheralded, in a quiet corner of the show floor in Los Angeles.
Yet what the car industry chooses to show and say in front of the car media is still a telling indicator. What the companies said and didn’t say on Thursday suggests an industry that’s clearly struggling to navigate the electrification transition in America. Kia has been at the forefront of building great EVs for the States; its trumpeting of a hybrid Telluride is welcome, but 10 years out of date. The absence of EV hype in press events reveals an industry putting the brakes on the big talking points and preparing to lean back toward fossil fuels to maintain their profitability through this era of American EV limbo.
The Paris Agreement goal of limiting warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius is now all but impossible. Limiting — and eventually reversing — the damage will take some thought.
For the second year in a row, the United Nations climate conference ended without a consensus declaration that tackling global warming requires transitioning away from fossil fuels. The final agreement at COP30 did, however, touch on another uncomfortable subject: Countries resolved to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.”
In the 2015 Paris Agreement, 197 nations pledged to try to prevent average temperature rise of more than 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial temperatures. Now 10 years later, scientists say that exceeding that level has become inevitable. It may be possible to turn the thermostat back down after this “overshoot” occurs, though — a possibility this year’s COP agreement appears to endorse.
The idea demands a far meatier discussion than world leaders have had to date, according to Oliver Geden, a senior fellow at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs, and a key contributor to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s scientific reports. If limiting warming to 1.5 degrees now requires surpassing that level and coming back to it later, and if this is something that countries actually want to attempt, there are a lot of implications to think through.
Geden and Andy Reisinger, an associate professor at Australian National University and another IPCC author, published an article last week spelling out what it would mean for policymakers to take this concept of “temporary overshoot” seriously. For example, the final agreement from COP30 encourages Parties to align their nationally determined contributions towards global net zero by or around mid-century.” Net zero, in this case, means cutting CO2 emissions as far as possible, and then cancelling out any residuals with efforts to remove carbon from the atmosphere.
Scientists now estimate that if the world achieves that balance by 2050, we’ll pass 1.5 and bring warming to a peak of about 1.7 degrees above pre-industrial levels. At that point, the planet will not begin to cool on its own. Ensuring that an “overshoot” of 1.5 degrees is temporary, then, requires removing even more carbon from the atmosphere than is being emitted — it requires achieving “net-negative” emissions.
Suffice it to say, you will not find the words “net negative” in any COP agreements. “If 1.5 degrees C is to remain the core temperature goal, then net zero can no longer be seen as an end point but only as a transition point in climate policy,” Geden and Reisinger wrote. The two stress that this wouldn’t prevent all of the harms of going past that level of warming, but it would reduce risk, depending on the magnitude and duration of the overshoot.
I spoke to Geden on Thursday, while the UN climate conference was still underway in Belém, Brazil, about what policymakers are missing about overshoot and the 1.5 degree goal. Our conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
I’ve had scientists tell me they don’t like the term “overshoot” because the 1.5 degree boundary is arbitrary. How do you think about it?
You can apply the concept of overshoot to any level. You could also apply it to 2 degrees or 1.6 or 1.7. It’s just saying that there is a defined level you care about, and it’s about exceeding that level and returning to it later. That is the basic concept, and then 1.5 is the logical application right now in terms of where climate policy is. That return idea is not very well represented, but that’s how it has been used in the IPCC for quite some time — exceedance and return.
What was the impetus for writing the article with Reisinger and what was your main message?
We wanted to explain the concept of overshoot because it seems that it’s now being discussed more. The UN secretary general started using it in a speech to the World Meteorological Association two weeks before Belém, and now has continuously done so. It also led to some irritation because people interpret it as, He just called 1.5 off, although he usually says, “Science tells us you can come back to it.”
These overshoot trajectories and pathways for 1.5 degrees have been around since at least the Special Report on 1.5 Degrees in 2018, and then increasingly dominated the modeling of 1.5. But we feel that the broader climate policy community never quite got the point that it is baked into these trajectories whenever scientists say 1.5 is still possible. But then this element of, what does this now mean? Who has to do what? How is it possible to get temperature down? That’s even more obscure, in a way, in the political debate, because it means net-zero CO2 is not enough. Net-zero CO2 would halt temperature increase. To get it down, you need to go net negative. And then the obvious question, politically, would be, who’s going to do that?
In the paper, you write that the amount of net-negative emissions required to reduce global average temperatures by just 0.1 degrees is about equal to five years of current annual emissions, or 100x our current annual carbon removal, which is mostly from planting trees. Given that, is it realistic to talk about reversing warming?
That’s not for me to say. If you think about the trajectory — how would, let’s say, a temperature trajectory in the 21st century look? What you would get now is a peak warming level above 1.5. Then really the question is, what happens afterwards? If everybody only talks about going to net-zero CO2 then we should assume it’s that new peak temperature level, and then we just stay there. But if you want to say the world needs to go back down to 1.5 by the end of the century then we have to talk about net-negative levels, and we still may find out that it’s not realistic.
This kind of circumvents the conversation of how good we look on getting to net zero. We all assume that’s doable. I also assume that’s doable. But you cannot forget the fact that right now, our emissions are still rising.
One of the policy implications you write about in the piece is that if Europe were to set a target to go net negative, its carbon pricing scheme could go from a source of income to a financial burden. Can you explain that?
If you have carbon pricing and you have emitters, you can finance carbon dioxide removal through the revenues from carbon pricing. But if you want to go net negative, you need more removals than you have emissions. The question is, who’s going to pay for it? You would always have residual emitters, but if you want to go deeply into net negative, you will run out of revenue sources to finance these removals.
One of the big problems is, conceptually, a government can say, Okay, your factory does not have a license to produce anymore, and you can force it to close down. But you cannot force any entity to remove CO2 for you. So how can a government guarantee that these removals are really going to happen? Would the acceleration of this carbon dioxide removal actually work? Which methods do we prefer? Do we have enough geological storage? It’s all unresolved. This paper is not a call to Europe to say hey, just make a promise. [It’s saying,] can you please really think about it? Can we please stop assuming somebody is going to organize all this to go net negative and then it magically happens? You need to make a serious plan. And you may find out that it’s too hard to do.
Another question is, how will other actors react? I think that’s part of the reluctance to talk about going net negative. The mental model right now of being a frontrunner is going down to the net zero line and then waiting there for the others to come. But if you enter net negative territory, it becomes basically bottomless. So every developing country could, reasonably so, demand ever higher levels of you. In the European Union, where you have 27 member states, even there, you would get into distributional challenges because some member states may ask others to go net negative because they are disadvantaged.
Also, which sectors would be forced to go net negative, which ones can stay net positive? Agriculture, at least as long as you have livestock, will be net positive. Then you have a country like Ireland, with 30% of the emissions coming from agriculture. They will stay a net-positive country, probably, and then others would have to go net negative. So you can imagine what kind of tensions you would get in.
I know you’re not in Belém, but from what you’ve read and from what you’re hearing, do you think that overshoot and all of these questions that you raise are being discussed more there? Do you get the sense that they are making their way into the conversation more?
A bit. The talk you hear is only just about 1.5 and 1.5-aligned, and it makes you wonder what governments or NGOs think, how this is going to happen. In the text presented by the Brazilian government, overshoot is mentioned, and “limiting or minimizing magnitude and duration of overshoot.” But it does not talk about what that actually means.
The whole 1.5 conversation, I think it’s hard for governments to understand. At the same they’re getting told, “if you just look at the pledges, you will end up at 2.6 or 2.7 or 2.8 by the end of the century, you have to do more.” Of course they all have to do more, but to really get to 1.5 they have to do more than they can imagine. If the world does not want to cross 1.5, never ever, it would need to be at net-zero CO2 in 2030, between 2030 and 2035. And if you go later, then you have to go net negative. It’s actually quite easy, but it seems to be uncomfortable knowledge. And then the way we communicate the challenge — governments, scientists, media — it’s not very straightforward.
All these temperature targets are special in the sense that they set an absolute target. Usually policymakers, governments, set relative targets, like 0.7% of national GDP for overseas development aid — you can miss that every year, but then you can say, next year we’re going to meet it. That logic does not apply here. Once you are there, you are there. Then it’s not enough to say that next year we are going to put more effort into it. You just then can limit the extra damage.
Current conditions: Thunderstorms are rolling through eastern Texas today into Arkansas, Louisiana, and Mississippi • More than 11,000 people in seven Malaysian states say they’re affected by heavy flooding • America’s two most populous overseas territories at opposite sides of the planet are experiencing diverging rip tides, with a dangerously powerful undertow in Guam but a weak pull this week in Puerto Rico.

The final resolution that concluded the United Nations climate summit in Brazil made no mention of fossil fuels, in what The New York Times called “a victory for oil producers like Saudi Arabia and Russia.” But the so-called COP30 confab in the northeastern Amazonian city of Belém made some notable progress. This was the first conference to seriously broach the effects of mining the metals needed for the energy transition, as I wrote here last week. The event had other firsts, as the Financial Times noted: It was the first completely spurned by the U.S. administration, “the first since the world hit 1.5 degrees Celsius of global warming for an entire calendar year,” and — it turned out — “the first with a venue plagued by extreme heat, flooding — even a fire that brought the talks to a standstill for much of their second-last day.” But, FT columnist Pilita Clark continued, Brazil’s turn at the yearly summit “still managed something these huge annual gatherings should have done years ago: a shift away from showy pledges to tackling the real world complexities of cutting carbon emissions.”
The COP30 statement “does not spell out the implications or required response as bluntly as many want to see,” Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo wrote, “It does, however, introduce an important new concept that could become a key part of the negotiations in the future. For the first time, the text references a resolve to ‘limit both the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.’ This not only acknowledges that it’s possible to bring temperatures back down after warming surpasses 1.5 degrees, but that the level at which temperatures peak, and the length of time we remain at that peak before the world begins to cool, are just as important. The statement implies the need for a much larger conversation about carbon removal that has been nearly absent from the annual COPs, but which scientists say that countries must have if they are serious about the Paris Agreement goals.”
The U.S. Export-Import Bank plans to invest $100 billion in overseas energy projects to promote President Donald Trump’s global energy dominance. The first tranche of funding will go to projects in Egypt, Pakistan, and Europe. In his first interview since taking office in September, the federal lender’s newly-appointed chair, John Jovanovic, told the FT the administration was focusing the bank on “efforts to secure U.S. and allied supply chains for critical minerals, nuclear energy, and liquified natural gas to counter western reliance on China and Russia.” In short, Jovanovic said, the Ex-Im Bank is “back in a big way, and it’s open for business.”
Wyoming Governor Mark Gordon last week announced $4 million in state matching funds to study building a second coal-fired unit at the Dry Fork Station power plant in Gillette. The move, Cowboy State Daily reported, “could be the first step toward building a new coal-fired power plant” in the sparsely populated state’s third-largest city. “This is clear proof that coal is not dead and a reminder that Wyoming’s strength has always come from our ability to innovate without abandoning our values,” Gordon, a Republican, said in a statement. If built, the plant would be the first new coal-fired unit to open in the U.S. since 2013.
The Trump administration is trying to keep existing coal plants open. But it’s running into the problem that their equipment keeps breaking down, as Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote. The trend toward coal isn’t unique to Trump’s America. Coal demand is rising globally.
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Oregon Governor Tina Kotek ordered state agencies last week to speed up the government’s performance on permitting, energy efficiency, electrification, and low-carbon fuel. In a speech, the Democrat said her administration would pursue the cheapest pathway to the state’s 2040 target of decarbonizing electricity, E&E News reported. “We’re talking about what we really need to meet our [climate] goals in an affordable way… where we’re not getting help from the federal government,” Kotek said Wednesday at a press conference.
Democratic states are largely in a moment of flux on climate policy. California eased permitting restrictions and passed a series of bills on energy and emissions, as Emily laid out at the time. As I reported here last week, Pennsylvania took the opposite approach and withdrew from the multi-state cap-and-trade market under pressure to contain costs. New York, meanwhile, has required a federal judge to intervene to force its government to enforce climate regulations. It's all part of the emerging tension between Democrats' affordability campaigns and the party's desire to cut planet-heating pollution, as Heatmap's Robinson Meyer wrote.
Regular readers of this newsletter scarcely need reminding of two basic realities about the American oil and gas industry right now: Trump is opening virtually everywhere he can to production, but drilling has largely remained flat. But the market is looking good to the British developer Harbour Energy. In an interview with The Wall Street Journal, Linda Cook, the company’s chief executive, said Harbour Energy is exploring a potential acquisition or merger with rivals in the U.S. offshore and onshore drilling business as a way to enter “the biggest market in the world” where the London-headquartered firm isn’t already present. In a sign of confidence in Trump’s as-yet-unrealized promise to “drill, baby, drill,” Harbour Energy has widened its scope from its past inquiries into only U.S. offshore assets to also look at onshore drilling.
Beyond COP30, Brazil has at least one more first. The country’s National Nuclear Energy Commission approved construction of Latin America’s first nuclear waste repository, set to start next year, World Nuclear News reported. While Brazil is one of the only nations in the region with atomic energy, the country has just two reactors. Despite approaching nuclear power more hesitantly than neighboring Argentina, breaking ground on the first storage site would signal a significant step forward for the nascent industry in South America.