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Thea Riofrancos, a professor of political science at Providence College, discusses her new book, Extraction, and the global consequences of our growing need for lithium.

We cannot hope to halt or even slow dangerous climate change without remaking our energy systems, and we cannot remake our energy systems without environmentally damaging projects like lithium mines.
This is the perplexing paradox at the heart of Extraction: The Frontiers of Green Capitalism, a new book by political scientist and climate activist Thea Riofrancos, coming out September 23, from Norton.
Riofrancos, a professor at Providence College, has spent much of her academic career studying mining and oil production in Latin America. In Extraction, she traces the lithium boom of the past five or so years, as the aims of the Global North and Global South began to resemble an inverted mirror. Countries in the latter group that have long been sites of mineral extraction — with little economic benefit — are now seeking to manufacture the more lucrative high tech products further down the supply chain. Meanwhile, after decades of offshoring, Europe and the U.S. suddenly want to bring mining back home in pursuit of “green dominance,” she writes. All of this is happening against the backdrop of China’s geopolitical rise, the war in Ukraine, the COVID-19 pandemic, and worsening effects of climate change.
The book also spends time with the indigenous communities and environmental defenders fighting the lithium industry in Chile, Portugal, and the American West. Riofrancos doesn’t shy away from difficult questions, such as whether there is such a thing as a “right place” for a lithium mine. But she’s optimistic that there’s a better path than the one we’re on now. “The energy transition has presented a fork in the road for the entire economic and social order,” she writes. Down one road, we entrench existing power structures. Down the other, we capitalize on the energy transition to create a more just society.
Green capitalism, Riofrancos argues, is an oxymoron. While we can’t avoid extraction, we can reduce the need for it, for example through better public transit, smaller EV batteries, and minerals recycling, she concludes.
This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.
Are there notable differences between lithium and the extraction of other natural resources?
Yes and no. Whether it’s copper or lithium or gold or cobalt — and even I would include hydrocarbons in this, to a degree — whether we look at the economics, the way that they have boom and bust cycles, the fact that governments, even neoliberal governments, tend to take a pretty concerted interest in extractive sectors within their jurisdiction, environmental concerns and direct forms of violence that are meted out at environmental defenders — no, it’s not different. Which should raise alarm bells because a lot of those dynamics are not positive.
What’s different, though, is that precisely because mining companies and host governments claim that the extraction of lithium is urgent and essential for the energy transition, what ends up happening is that these big claims are made — like, “We are now a sustainable mining company because we’re extracting lithium,” or, “This is part of our green industrial policy.” This toxic and dirty extractive sector is now greenified because of its role in the energy transition. On the one hand, that’s greenwashing. On the other, it’s an opening. When companies make those claims, it’s something to hold them accountable to.
I was somewhat surprised by the issues you describe with the way lithium mining is regulated in Chile — the companies do their own environmental monitoring, there’s a lack of transparent data, the brine they mine in the Atacama is not considered water under Chilean law, etc. It seems like the state could change a lot of this. Why hasn’t it?
States in the Global South, although not exclusively there, lack geological and hydrological data about their own territory. In ways that we can trace to colonialism and neocolonialism in terms of who controls the territory and who has knowledge about it, the actors that have the basic data about deposits, how they interact with water sources, all of that, are the companies. And so to even regulate these companies better, you first need to set up independent and objective sources of data collection — and that’s something that any state might struggle with, but especially in the Global South, given the kind of legacy under which these companies operated, with little oversight of the state.
The [U.S. Geological Survey] doesn’t exist everywhere in the world. Not every state has a surveying agency with that level of expertise. And even in the U.S., the USGS actually has quite partial knowledge of what’s here. And there are many examples of companies in the U.S. hiding proprietary knowledge from the government.
What about after Gabriel Boric became president in Chile, in 2022, and created this new public-private partnership between the mining giant SQM and the government. Wouldn’t that have given the Chilean government more visibility and more control?
I think in some ways he’s made strides. He has set aside many salt flats for conservation. A right wing government wouldn’t have done that. He also is inserting the state, via the state-owned copper company Codelco, entering into public-private partnerships with companies, including SQM. If all goes according to plan, that will help the state learn more about lithium extraction, or maybe even set up their own lithium company, which was the initial goal of this government.
I’ll just point out two things to show how this is difficult. According to indigenous communities and environmental activists that have been organizing around this, they were excluded from the initial moment where that memorandum of understanding between SQM and Codelco was signed, and so they felt like it was a reenactment of historic injuries by a government that they had cautiously supported or thought would be different. Now they’re back at the negotiating table and indigenous communities are being consulted again. But there was a critical moment where the MOU was signed and indigenous communities were not present, and actually learned about it from the media. These historic patterns are really hard to change because companies hold a lot of power.
Even a progressive government is balancing indigenous rights and ecological protection with a desire to not lose market share. Argentina is starting to catch up with Chile — is Chile still going to remain the number two producer globally? Does it need to change its regulations to attract more companies? This is the kind of double bind that Global South societies find themselves in.
You write about this tension between expanding extraction and minimizing environmental and community impacts. Do you believe there are actually ways to minimize these impacts?
Absolutely. You can do anything better. I believe in human ingenuity and science and figuring out how to improve processes. There are ways to extract using less water, using a smaller land footprint, using fewer polluting energy sources. One of the reasons emissions from mining are not insignificant is a lot of it happens off-grid, and for now, that means diesel generators or gasoline-powered mining vehicles, let alone the cargo ships that are shipping the stuff around the world. So we could think about localizing or regionalizing supply chains.
The question is, how do we get companies to change their practices? They might do it if a regulator tells them they have to, if civil society puts so much pressure on them that it just becomes reputational harm if they don’t do it, if perhaps activist shareholders ask or tell the company to change its practices.
But the company, if it’s a shareholder-owned company, has one main obligation, which is to maximize the value of their shares. Changing your technological setup and your physical plant arrangement is costly, and it may not immediately produce more profits. And so you have to think about, what are the crude economic dynamics that keep companies on a particular technological path in terms of how they do their physical operations? And then think, using the power of policy, of economics, of consumer pressure, whatever it is, how to get them to make a decision that may not be in their immediate shareholder interest.
One theme in the book is that countries in the West are making a case for domestic mining by arguing that it will be greener than mining in the Global South. Is there any evidence for that? What’s the logic?
This was honestly one of the most surprising things in my research as someone that primarily has worked in Latin America. I heard some rumblings — and this was in 2019, before the pandemic — of EU officials wanting to onshore. It confused me because mining is toxic, it’s low value-added. And what I learned is that it had come to a point where Western policymakers saw the whole supply chain as a domain of geostrategic power.
And then, probably some people really feel this way, and other people are using it as nice rhetoric, but Western policymakers also started to come to the idea that it would be more “responsible” to mine in the West. This is in no small part due to the fact that the mining industry has deservedly gotten a lot of negative coverage for, in some cases, outright killing people. In other cases, you have an avalanche that destroys a village. You have water contamination. There are issues around forced labor, how the Uyghurs are treated in China. So there was a lot of bad press on the industry. I think they thought, We can solve a few problems at once. We can increase our geopolitical power by having domestic supply chains for the most important 21st century technologies, and we can also make the claim to consumers, regulators, and the media that this is better if you care about responsible, ethical, green mining.
The reality is, of course, more complex than that. Our mining law in the U.S. that governs hard rock mining on public lands is from 1872, which tells you everything you need to know. It’s extremely out of date with the modern mining industry and the scale of harm that mining poses, and it also literally was implemented during the westward expansion and dispossession of indigenous peoples to serve that end.
In fact, countries in Latin America tend to have better — on paper — governance of mining than the U.S., though they may not have the state capacity to always implement it. In Europe, there’s even more dependence on imports. A lot of the European countries have almost no regulations on the books for basic things like, how do you deal with mining waste? And so in the Global North, what we have to fight for is a mining governance regime and a set of legal codes and regulations that is up to date.
This book is pretty critical of the way communities have been treated in the lithium boom so far. What are some of the ways community engagement can be done better?
We see better outcomes when communities are organized, when they actually identify as a community, have some meetings, maybe set up a group to coordinate themselves. Like, who’s going to go to the public hearing? Who’s going to contact a lawyer? Who’s going to contact the water expert? Because communities need a lot of outside help. The companies have lawyers, they have experts, they probably have friends in government. A lot of lawyers and experts that companies hire used to work for the government, and they know these processes inside out, and so the community needs to be as or more organized. They’re already on the losing end of a power imbalance.
In a way, none of this is about what companies can do, because I presume that companies are responsive to pressure. Multinationals, insofar as they’re shareholder-owned, their main goal is to maximize value, and that’s it. It’s that simple. And so in order to get them to behave differently towards communities, outside forces need to take a role. The first outside force is the community itself. A second is, how involved is the government? And how objective and public-serving is the government? Where governments take a more objective role and help protect the baseline rights of communities, make sure that those rights are not being violated by companies, help distribute more culturally sensitive and appropriate information about the mine, we could get better outcomes that way.
You had activists tell you, “I support lithium mining, but this is the wrong place for it.” Do you think there is such a thing as a right or wrong place, or even a better or worse place for a lithium mine?
This was honestly the most vexing question that I had to contemplate in my own research. I often think about how these communities are called NIMBYs, and there’s two reasons that’s a really inappropriate term. First of all, the “my backyard” — not every person has private property, or that’s not their stake in the matter. It’s not about, this is going to decrease the value of my property, or this is going to disrupt my ocean view. It’s about the land that they have a deep relationship with.
The second thing is, I don’t think most of the people that call these communities NIMBYs would really want to live next to a large-scale mine, either. They are just enormous scars on the landscape. I understand that they are necessary, to some degree, to provide for the technologies that we enjoy, including life-saving and planet-saving technology. Even in my perfect world, where everyone is riding an electric bus or bike or walking around, some lithium is still needed in the near term. In the future, we could conceivably enter into a circular economy, but we don’t have the level of feedstock for that yet.
So the question remains, where are we going to mine? I don’t have an easy answer to that, but I will say that in the entire process of land use planning, the corporation is the protagonist. In the U.S., a place that I think most political scientists would say has more state capacity than a country in Africa or Latin America, we do not use that capacity to proactively plan land use. I think it would make sense to really rearrange the process such that governments plan with substantial community input, and then corporations, if we want to have private corporations doing this, get the ability to compete for contracts. I know that would be a big lift to change that policy dynamic, but I think we need to have the conversation.
You write a lot about this difficult dance between supply and demand in mining. What are you seeing right now in how the lithium industry is reacting to Trump’s dismantling of EV policy?
With Trump, it’s particularly interesting and bizarre because on the list of fast-tracked mines, you have several lithium mines and some lithium processing along with other “critical minerals.” He really wants to expand mining, to the point that the Pentagon is now the No. 1 investor in our only rare earth mine in the U.S. They bought 15% of MP Materials’ shares, the company that manages the Mountain Pass mine. And so Trump is fast-tracking mines, he’s sending huge amounts of public money to financially underwrite these mining companies. But yet, he’s destroying demand for rare earths. He loves to talk about AI and military tech — that’s a small slice of demand. It’s really about wind turbines and electric vehicle motors. That’s really where the demand is. With lithium, it’s even clearer.
That all seems like a recipe for prices to crash.
The thing is, they already had crashed because of a supply glut. But at the same time, the market will likely pick back up because we’re seeing so much action elsewhere in the world. It’s very easy to focus on the U.S., especially because the U.S. government is such a basket case right now. But if we zoom out, there’s been a bunch of recent reporting, including in Heatmap, on how rapidly the energy transition is going in other parts of the world, with China playing an enormous role not only on the trade side, but also in foreign direct investment, in setting up solar and EV manufacturing hubs in the Global South.
And so I think that Trump can dismantle EVs as much as he wants in the U.S., and that’s a shame given that transportation is our most polluting sector. I mean, that pains me as a climate activist. But the world is bigger than the U.S.
The last thing I’ll say — and this is another interesting contradiction — in the Big, Beautiful Bill, it’s not across the board against all green technologies. There’s this distinction that conservatives increasingly like to make called “clean, firm power.” So they put nuclear, geothermal, and battery storage in that. Now, battery storage, what is that made of? Lithium. So in a weird way, they like lithium mining, they like batteries for storage, they just don’t like electric vehicles. We’re still going to have lithium demand in the U.S., and lots of individual people will still buy electric cars, and blue states will still procure them for their public fleets. He’s not going to kill the market. He’s just going to slow its growth, primarily by making it less affordable for working and middle class people.
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We’re about to see what happens when big ideas become companies.
Before I covered energy and climate change, I was a technology journalist. And I remember 2011, 2012, and 2013 as a time of tremendous change.
Over the course of a few years, a procession of tech startups — including Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and Yelp — transitioned from being secretive industry darlings to normal publicly traded companies. All at once, social media companies that had once seemed cool and somewhat elusive turned into some of the biggest and most boring members of the Fortune 500. These companies didn’t become any less interesting to Wall Street, of course, and Facebook soon cemented itself as a profit titan. But the era when a social media startup could seem alluring, potent, and even darkly glamorous had concluded. With a shuffling of ownership papers, the avant garde became the old guard.
I wonder if the same thing is about to happen to the artificial intelligence business. For the past four years, AI startups have been among the most mysterious firms in the American economy. Their decisions reshape power grids and contort geopolitics, yet there has remained something strikingly informal about these organizations. Just as with the social media companies of the early 2010s, you can learn a lot about ChatGPT and Claude by following the right podcasts, newsletters, and X accounts — OpenAI and Anthropic employees disclose a tremendous amount of useful information in their efforts to out-hype each other.
But soon these startups will become … well, normal companies, too. Earlier this week, OpenAI confidentially filed with the Securities and Exchange Commission to offer its stock to the public. It revealed the filing on Monday because it expected the news to leak; executives cautioned that they might delay the offering because “there are things we want to do that are likely easier as a private company.” Earlier this month, Anthropic also filed with the SEC to go public as soon as the fall.
And of course SpaceX will conduct its IPO later this week — and it will likely be the largest public offering of all time.
These offerings might seem like they have little to do with the world of climate and energy. In fact, they matter to our part of the world quite a lot. That’s not only because they will generate a new surge of philanthropic and venture capital for decarbonization causes, as my colleague Katie Brigham wrote earlier this week.
It’s also because they mark a potential market-changing moment for climate-friendly companies that have, thus far, benefited from the AI boom. A number of low-carbon electricity firms — such as NextEra, Fervo, and T1 Energy — have surged as investors bet that electricity will become scarce in the AI era. That expectation, I should clarify, has been good for everyone in the power business, including coal and natural gas plant owners, but it has seriously helped the tranche of clean energy startups that initially planned to profit from the Inflation Reduction Act. Yet have AI-loving investors flocked to these energy startups because they could not buy equity from the frontier AI labs themselves? We’ll soon find out.
Meanwhile, I don’t think it’s set in yet how much SpaceX, in search of a pre-IPO narrative diversion, has reframed itself as a company that manufactures orbiting data centers. It has also signed big deals allowing Anthropic and Google to use its existing (and terrestrial) data centers. That’s partly to draft off the AI boom, too, of course — SpaceX absorbed Elon Musk’s xAI in February— but it’s also a response to the difficulty of getting a U.S. power grid hookup and the darkening permitting environment for data centers.
I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that I remember the early 2010s as a boom time for IPOs. So I was shocked to look back and discover that each year in that period only saw one or two major internet companies conduct initial stock sales. That era did not come anywhere close to the current fervor; this year, we’ll see as many as three era-defining companies go live within months of each other. We’re in a mind-bending moment — and we shouldn’t forget that.
Seattle practiced responding to a heat dome during the international soccer tournament. It didn’t go well.
Welcome to Seattle! If you’re one of the 750,000 visitors in town to watch the 2026 North American FIFA World Cup, you’re going to love it here. For one thing, you’ve arrived just in time for the city to suspend its interminable construction for the games. That’s a plus! Be sure to check out our newly pedestrianized Pike Place Market and stroll along the waterfront to “Seattle Stadium” (or sound like a local and call it “Qwest”). You might even get a little chilly from the wind off the bay — you can thank our “temperate, oceanic climate” for that. It’s what makes Seattle the safest place in the United States to attend (or play in) a World Cup game, per researchers at Queen’s University Belfast — at least, from the perspective of extreme heat.
That’s worth bragging about. Extreme heat has been a concern at almost every subsequent World Cup going back to the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, including the 2022 tournament in Qatar, which FIFA had to reschedule to the winter. The 2026 World Cup could get dicey, too. Of the 104 scheduled matches in 16 host cities in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico over the next month, at least half have a 50% chance or greater of being played in temperatures of 82 degrees Fahrenheit or higher, according to research by Climate Central — that being the threshold at which player performance begins to suffer, with athletes slowing down, getting sick, and making poorer decisions because of the heat. The odds of there being impairing heat during the World Cup final in New York on July 19 are basically a coin flip, and 17% higher than they otherwise would have been due to climate change-induced warming.
All of that is just part of what makes Seattle’s host city status so appealing. There is only about a 3% chance of performance-impairing heat during its two mid-June fixtures, rising to 6% later in the month and into July.
Unless, of course, there’s another heat dome.
In 2021, temperatures in Seattle peaked at 108 degrees on June 28, which this year will fall between when the city hosts Egypt vs. Iran and a Round of 32 match. Needless to say, 108 degrees is not just perspiration-inducing; it is well beyond the 89.6-degree wet-bulb globe temperature threshold at which FIFA considers postponing matches. While the possibility of another heat dome in the next few weeks is admittedly an edge case — before 2021, Seattle had only touched 100 degrees three times in 126 years of recorded-keeping— it’s still a realistic enough possibility that last spring, the National Weather Service’s Seattle office ran a tabletop exercise with its local partners to game out just that.
“Before 2021, heat [in Seattle] was just another hazard alongside fire and smoke and those sorts of things,” Reid Wolcott, the warning coordination meteorologist with the NWS Seattle, who helped lead the two-day-long run-through, told me. The heat dome “really highlighted that heat is a powerful hazard that can cause significant loss of life.”
After more than 400 people died in Washington alone, the NWS dedicated considerable time and resources to its heat preparedness and messaging in the Pacific Northwest. Beginning in 2022, the National Integrated Heat Health Information System began offering technical support for heat tabletop exercises in communities around the country. Seattle was supposed to participate in 2024 but “due to some logistical reasons, we ended up delaying it until 2025,” Wolcott said. “And because of that, we were like, We’re well on our way into World Cup planning, here.”
The idea of the “Heat Dome Cup” exercise was to kill two birds with one stone — to test the Seattle area’s response four years after the heat dome, as well as its ability to respond to a weather crisis when thousands of visitors are in the city for the World Cup. Participants included representatives from surrounding cities such as Bellevue, Everett, and Portland, Oregon; county-level offices including from climate, emergency management, and public health; the University of Washington; and the Port Gamble S’Klallam Tribe.
The results of the exercise were both encouraging and not: For every core capability tested, from “threat/hazard identification” to “communication” and “community resilience,” the after-action report found that Seattle “performed with some challenges.” There was “limited local data” on the compounding hazards of heat, cooling center efficiency, and — particularly alarming — the local healthcare system’s ability to respond during such an event. “Prehospital triage, surge planning, and better integration with public health systems are urgently needed,” the report found. Because paramedics attempt to bring down a heat stroke patients’ temperature before transporting them to a hospital — a laborious process often involving filling a home bathtub with ice, setting the patient in it, and waiting — the emergency response during heat events is slow, and can quickly back up and overwhelm the system.
Heat Dome Cup partners directed my questions about King County’s readiness to handle extreme heat during the World Cup to the public health office, which told me no one was available for an interview.
Carlos Martinez, a senior climate scientist with the climate and energy program at the Union of Concerned Scientists who did not participate in the exercise, told me that after reading the report, he hopes that “there’s a recognition and awareness of the fact that there’s a lot of work that needs to be done.” He also flagged an observation from the exercise regarding the development of stronger workplace protections during the World Cup.
“That sometimes can be neglected,” he went on. “You have folks in construction, food service, retail, landscaping, and sanitation who work a full day outside during these events. What are the protocols that are out there to ensure that they are protected from heat-related illnesses?”
I put the question to Hollie Stark, the communications coordinator for the Office of Emergency Management in Seattle. (While Stark’s office participated in the exercise, Stark did not.) She told me that Washington’s Department of Labor & Industries offers recommendations for how employers can protect their workers from heat and smoke, including running trainings and publishing posters and pocket cards in multiple languages that promote offering adequate water, shade, and breaks. “We’re thinking about maybe bars and places that might be hosting [FIFA viewing parties] that don’t have access to AC but might have an influx of people,” she said as a hypothetical, “and we’re encouraging them to listen to those recommendations.”
In general, the people I spoke with in Seattle who were involved in the exercise acknowledged that messaging and communication were the areas the city struggled with the most. “That has definitely been the single biggest thing — trying to make sure that we’re all singing from the same sheet of music,” Wolcott told me. “Because we weren’t prior to 2021.”
One of the biggest hurdles has been figuring out exactly how to communicate potential extreme heat warnings to the thousands of visitors traveling to Seattle. During my conversations with officials involved in the Heat Dome Cup, officials pointed me to myriad preparedness websites, real-time risk tools, opt-in alert systems, and health and safety resources for out-of-town visitors, which left me — a local fluent in English — feeling even more confused.
Language itself is one thing — on that front, Stark told me her office has already pre-scripted messaging for extreme heat translated into Spanish and the eight threshold languages of King County — Vietnamese, Somali, Russian, Chinese, Korean, Amharic, Arabic, and Ukrainian — as well as seven additional World Cup spectator-specific languages — Arabic, Farsi, Dutch, French, Bosnian, Serbian, and Croatian. But one of the threats of having a heat dome during a major sporting event is that “you have a lot of visitors coming from all different parts of the world,” Wolcott said. “Some come from locations where they are probably more acclimated to heat than we are, but some may be coming from areas that are cooler climates than ours.” Proper acclimation can take weeks, if not an entire season — far longer than most spectators will be in town.
But perhaps the biggest takeaway is that a heat dome isn’t required for people to be under heat stress, even in a place as temperate as Seattle. Wolcott told me the NWS’s seasonal outlook for the summer in the region indicates above-average temperatures, and while that “does increase the risk of a heat event occurring, it has nothing to do with the actual magnitude of it. You could have a 2021-level event, or you could have 30 smaller events, and there is no way to tell exactly what’s going to happen.”
Indeed, even fairly moderate temperatures can sneak up on spectators. While FIFA is in charge of making decisions that impact their athletes’ health, Shel Winkley, the senior engagement specialist and meteorologist at Climate Central, pointed out that “fans are still sitting in the sun in the heat, and if they’re fans like me, they’re not drinking water during [the FIFA-mandated in-game] cooling breaks.” Spectators get to the stadium early, stand in long lines in the sun, sit in crowded stadiums with potentially no shade — and essentially endure an entire day of heat, even if the temperatures seemed manageable when they walked out their hotel door.
At this point, there is nothing to indicate Seattle’s worst-case scenario will come true. (Stark also mentioned that a true worst-case scenario more likely involves the Big One than extreme heat, but we won’t go there.) But “just because historically the odds are low” for a heat dome in the Seattle area “doesn’t mean that they’re zero,” Winkley said.
Martinez, the climate scientist with UCS, stressed to me that while the Heat Dome Cup was an engaging thought experiment, bringing together 30 distinct partners for two whole days, he fears that a gutted NWS and Federal Emergency Management Agency might lack the funding or personnel to act on the weaknesses the exercise exposed. “If you have this one exercise but no follow-through, that can risk eroding trust by those populations who gave time out of their day to come and speak to the federal government about the importance of this issue,” he told me. “We shouldn’t just do this for well-renowned events. This should be an evergreen thing.”
But Wolcott, the lead on the Heat Dome Cup, sounded to me like he was at the end of a long marathon when I spoke to him. “I’ve been planning for [the World Cup] for three years now. I’m ready for it to be over,” he told me, laughing.
“We are always doing this; it was just one exercise that we did last May,” he added. “I’m just looking forward to late July at this point.”
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Cristina is inching north toward landfall in Central America, threatening floods, landslides, and winds of up to 73 miles per hour • Washington, D.C., is poised for rain for the rest of the week as temperatures rise to nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit by Friday • By contrast, Cartersville, Georgia, where the solar manufacturer Qcells just started up its factory, is looking at a two-day break of sunshine from an otherwise gray and wet forecast.
At the start of 2023, South Korea’s biggest solar manufacturer, Qcells, began construction on a sweeping new factory northwest of Atlanta in Cartersville, Georgia. Betting that U.S. tariffs on Chinese solar panels were here to stay, the company gambled on bringing most of the supply chain under one roof. On Tuesday, Qcells started producing solar cells at the plant, marking what it called “a major milestone toward completing the country’s only vertically integrated solar manufacturing plant.” The firm expects to reach full production by the third quarter of this year. The factory’s module assembly line, meanwhile, is now at full capacity, building 16,700 panels per day. “Producing the first solar cells at Cartersville is a milestone for Qcells and for American manufacturing,” Andy Park, the global chief executive of Qcells, said in a statement. “As our ingot, wafer, and cell lines reach full capacity, we’ll be making the major components of a solar panel right here in Georgia.”
The U.S. could be seeing the start of a small solar boom. Last year alone, at least 30 new utility-scale solar factories came online, as Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo reported last month.
Over the weekend, as I told you on Monday, a federal court blocked the Trump administration’s rules for using the soon-to-expire tax writeoffs for investing in or producing electricity from solar panels and wind turbines. But with just 24 days to go until the tax credits officially end, few developers are likely to move quickly enough to benefit from the ruling. “Practically speaking, I don’t think this is likely to have much impact on the market or behavior in the coming weeks,” Heather Cooper, a tax lawyer at McDermott Will & Schulte, told E&E News. “The deadline is less than four weeks away.”
Investments into electrical grids are on track to surpass $650 billion globally this year, according to new data from the consultancy Rystad Energy. That’s up 5% from last year and more than double the investments recorded in 2020, PV Magazine reported. The high cost comes as long lead times and pricy components for transformers, high-voltage circuit breakers, and switchgears strain and stall upgrades and expansions to power systems all over the world. The soaring growth of wind and solar is propelling grid investments, which are needed to patch more intermittent and often far-flung renewables onto the system. In 2010, wind and solar made up just 2% of global generation. By 2040, Rystad expects them to make up nearly half the mix.
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Everyone recognizes Canada as a major oil producer, metal miner, and hydroelectricity generator. But did you know the Canucks are not just a serious player in nuclear power, but actually have their own domestically-designed reactor that can run on raw uranium? Get this, it even has a catchy name: the CANDU. Pronounced CAN-do and short for Canada Deuterium Uranium, the pressurized heavy water reactors are among the only commercial designs in the world that can run on unenriched, natural uranium. The advantage, especially for a country like Canada with vast uranium deposits, is that they’re faster to build, cheaper to fuel, and free of the international scrutiny that comes with enriching uranium. The downside is that they break down faster than the light water reactors that make up the entirety of the U.S. fleet. But Canada is demonstrating that isn’t a big problem. On Monday, the Bruce nuclear power station brought its Unit 3 reactor back online, completing refurbishments seven months early and $107 million under budget, NucNet reported. You don’t need to know a lot about the American or European nuclear industries to know “early and under budget” aren’t words typically associated with any recent or ongoing projects.
The best-proven way to make truly green steel involves turning iron ore into direct reduced iron through a process that, when powered by green hydrogen instead of natural gas, significantly slashes any carbon emissions associated with its production. Assuming it’s finished off in an electric arc furnace, it’s green steel — and even greener if that final process was powered by renewables or nuclear. Yet despite some high-profile projects, green hydrogen has remained too expensive in the West, even as China’s industry starts to boom. That could be changing. On Tuesday, the German steelmaker Salzgitter inked its first major offtake agreement for green hydrogen from the supplier EWE, Hydrogen Insight reported. One of Germany’s largest steel producers, Salzgitter will buy roughly 10,000 metric tons of hydrogen per year from the electrolyzer plant EWE is building in Emden, near the Dutch border.
Meanwhile in America, U.S. Steel unveiled plans to invest up to $2.5 billion into upgrading the Mon Valley Works, southeast of Pittsburgh. The renovations come after Japanese steel giant Nippon’s takeover of the iconic American firm last year. To win President Donald Trump’s blessing, Nippon gave the federal government a “golden share” in the company. As Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote last year, that could ultimately give a future administration leverage to press U.S. Steel to green its operations.

If you’re booking a flight right now, you might not yet be feeling the difference. But U.S. production of jet fuel has reached record highs as refiners scramble to respond to soaring prices following the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. By the start of May, the four-week average estimate of fuel production surpassed 2 million barrels per day for the first time on record, according to new analysis by the Energy Information Administration. But with domestic inventories still relatively high, much of that increased production is being exported.