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You’ve probably noticed — even Trump has noticed — but the reason why is as complicated as the grid itself.

You’re not imagining things: Electricity prices are surging.
Electricity rates, which have increased steadily since the pandemic, are now on a serious upward tear. Over the past 12 months, power prices have increased more than twice as fast as inflation, according to recent government data. They will likely keep rising in years to come as new data centers and factories connect to the power grid.
That surge is a major problem for the economy — and for President Trump. On the campaign trail, Trump vowed to cut Americans’ electricity bills in half within his first year in office. “Your electric bill — including cars, air conditioning, heating, everything, your total electric bill — will be 50% less. We’re going to cut it in half,” he said.
Now Trump has mysteriously stopped talking about that pledge, and on Tuesday he blamed renewables for rising electricity rates. Even Trump’s Secretary of Energy Chris Wright has acknowledged that costs are doing the opposite of what the president has promised.
Trump’s promise to cut electricity rates in half was always ridiculous. But while his administration is likely making the electricity crisis worse, the roots of our current power shock did not begin in January.
Why has electricity gotten so much more expensive over the past five years? The answer, despite what the president might say, isn’t renewables. It has far more to do with the part of the power grid you’re most familiar with: the poles and wires outside your window.
Before we begin, a warning: Electricity prices are weird.
In most of the U.S. economy, markets set prices for goods and services in response to supply and demand. But electricity prices emerge from a complicated mix of regulation, fuel costs, and wholesale auction. In general, electricity rates need to cover the costs of running the electricity system — and that turns out to be a complicated task.
You can split costs associated with the electricity system into three broad segments. The biggest and traditionally the most expensive part of the grid is generation — the power plants and the fuels needed to run them. The second category is transmission, which moves electricity across long distances and delivers it to local substations. The final category is distribution, the poles and wires that get electricity the “the last mile” to homes and businesses. (You can think of transmission as the highways for electricity and distribution as the local roads.)
In some states, especially those in the Southeast and Mountain West, monopoly electricity companies run the entire power grid — generation, transmission, and distribution. A quasi-judicial body of state officials regulates what this monopoly can do and what it can charge consumers. These monopoly utilities are supposed to make long-term decisions in partnership with these state commissions, and they must get their permission before they can raise electricity rates. But when fuel costs go up for their power plants — such as when natural gas or oil prices spike — they can often “pass through” those costs directly to consumers.
In other states, such as California or those in the Mid-Atlantic, electricity bills are split in two. The “generation” part of the bill is set through regulated electricity auctions that feature many different power plants and power companies. The market, in other words, sets generation costs. But the local power grid — the infrastructure that delivers electricity to customers — cannot be handled by a market, so it is managed by utilities that cover a particular service area. These local “transmission and distribution” utilities must get state regulators’ approval when they raise rates for their part of the bill.
The biggest driver of the power grid’s rising costs is … the power grid itself.
Historically, generation — building new power plants, and buying the fuel to run them — has driven the lion’s share of electricity rates. But since the pandemic, the cost of building the distribution system has ballooned.
Electricity costs are “now becoming a wires story and less of an electrons story,” Madalsa Singh, an economist at the University of California Santa Barbara, told me. In 2023, distribution made up nearly half of all utility spending, up from 37% in 2019, according to a recent Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory report.

Where are these higher costs coming from? When you look under the hood, the possibly surprising answer is: the poles and wires themselves. Utilities spent roughly $6 billion more on “overhead poles, towers, and conductors” in 2023 than in 2019, according to the Lawrence Berkeley report. Spending on underground power lines — which are especially important out West to avoid sparking a wildfire — increased by about $4 billion over the same period.
Spending on transformers also surged. Transformers, which connect different circuits on the grid and keep the flow of electricity constant, are a crucial piece of transmission and distribution infrastructure. But they’ve been in critically short supply more or less since the supply chain crunch of the pandemic. Utility spending on transformers has more than doubled since 2019, according to Wood Mackenzie.
At least some of the costs are hitting because the grid is just old, Singh said. As equipment reaches the end of its life, it needs to be upgraded and hardened. But it’s not completely clear why that spike in distribution costs is happening now as opposed to in the 2010s, when the grid was almost as old and in need of repair as it was now.
Some observers have argued that for-profit utilities are “goldplating” distribution infrastructure, spending more on poles and wires because they know that customers will ultimately foot the bill for them. But when Singh studied California power companies, she found that even government-run utilities — i.e. utilities without private investors to satisfy — are now spending more on distribution than they used to, too. Distribution costs, in other words, seem to be going up for everyone.
Sprawling suburbs in some states may be driving some of those costs, she added. In California, people have pushed farther out into semi-developed or rural land in order to find cheaper housing. Because investor-owned utilities have a legal obligation to get wires and electricity to everyone in their service area, these new and more distant housing developments might be more expensive to connect to the grid than older ones.
These higher costs will usually appear on the “transmission and distribution” part of your power bill — the “wires” part, if it is broken out. What’s interesting is that as a share of total utility investment, virtually all of the cost inflation is happening on the distribution side of that ledger. While transmission costs have fluctuated year to year, they have hovered around 20% of total utility investment since 2019, according to the Lawrence Berkeley Labs report.
Higher transmission spending might eventually bring down electricity rates because it could allow utilities to access cheaper power in neighboring service areas — or connect to distant solar or wind projects. (If renewables were driving up power prices as the president claims, you might see it here, in the “transmission” part of the bill.) But Charles Hua, the founder and executive director of the think tank PowerLines, said that even now, most utilities are building out their local grids, not connecting to power projects that are farther away.
The second biggest driver of higher electricity costs is disasters — natural and otherwise.
In California, ratepayers are now partially footing the bill for higher insurance costs associated with the risk of a grid-initiated wildfire, Sam Kozel, a researcher at E9 Insight, told me. Utilities also face higher costs whenever they rebuild the grid after a wildfire because they install sensors and software in their infrastructure that might help avoid the next blaze.
Similar stories are playing out elsewhere. Although the exact hazards vary region by region, some utilities and power grids have had to pay steep costs to rebuild from disasters or prevent the likelihood of the next one occurring.
In the Southeast, for instance, severe storms and hurricanes have knocked out huge swaths of the distribution grid, requiring emergency line crews to come in and rebuild. Those one-time, storm-induced costs then get recovered through higher utility rates over time.
Why have costs gone up so much this decade? Wildfires seem to grow faster now because of climate change — but wildfires in California are also primed to burn by a century of built-up fuel in forests. The increased disaster costs may also be partially the result of the bad luck of where storms happen to hit. Relatively few hurricanes made landfall in the U.S. during the 2010s — just 13, most of which happened in the second half of the decade. Eleven hurricanes have already come ashore in the 2020s.
Because fuel costs are broadly seen as outside a utility’s control, regulators generally give utilities more leeway to pass those costs directly through to customers. So when fuel prices go up, so do rates in many cases.
The most important fuel for the American power grid is natural gas, which produces more than 40% of American electricity. In 2022, surging demand and rising European imports caused American natural gas prices to increase more than 140%. But it can take time for a rise of that magnitude to work its way to consumers, and it can take even longer for electricity prices to come back down.
Although natural gas prices returned to pre-pandemic levels by 2023, utilities paid 30% more for fuel and energy that year than they did in 2019, according to Lawrence Berkeley National Lab. That’s because higher fuel costs do not immediately get processed in power bills.
The ultimate impact of these price shocks can be profound. North Carolina’s electricity rates rose from 2017 to 2024, for instance, largely because of natural gas price hikes, according to an Environmental Defense Fund analysis.
The final contributor to higher power costs is the one that has attracted the most worry in the mainstream press: There is already more demand for electricity than there used to be.
A cascade of new data centers coming onto the grid will use up any spare electron they can get. In some regions, such as the Mid-Atlantic’s PJM power grid, these new data centers are beginning to drive up costs by increasing power prices in the capacity market, an annual auction to lock in adequate supply for moments of peak demand. Data centers added $9.4 billion in costs last year, according to an independent market monitor.
Under PJM’s rules, it will take several years for these capacity auction prices to work their way completely into consumer prices — but the process has already started. Hua told me that the power bill for his one-bedroom apartment in Washington, D.C., has risen over the past year thanks largely to these coming demand shocks. (The Mid-Atlantic grid implemented a capacity-auction price cap this year to try to limit future spikes.)
Across the country, wherever data centers have been hooked up to the grid but have not supplied or purchased their own around-the-clock power, costs will probably rise for consumers. But it will take some time for those costs to be felt.
In order to meet that demand, utilities and power providers will need to build more power plants, transmission lines, and — yes — poles and wires in the years to come. But recent Trump administration policies will make this harder. The reconciliation bill’s termination of wind and solar tax credits, its tariffs on electrical equipment, and a new swathe of anti-renewable regulations will make it much more expensive to add new power capacity to the strained grid. All those costs will eventually hit power bills, too, even if it takes a few years.
“We're just getting started in terms of price increases, and nothing the federal administration is doing ‘to assure American energy dominance’ is working in the right direction,” Kozel said. “They’re increasing all the headwinds.”
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The Trump administration has signed a deal with RWE, a German developer, to cancel more than 3 gigawatts of offshore wind near New York and New Jersey.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
There goes another one. The German energy developer RWE has signed a $1.2 billion deal with the Trump administration to give up its claims to develop offshore wind farms in New York, California, and Louisiana. The Trump administration has now bought out 12 offshore wind leases, paying energy developers $3.93 billion for the privilege of not developing renewable energy along the American coastline.
Today’s is the largest payout yet — and fittingly so, I suppose, because it is among the most damaging. As part of the deal, RWE abandoned its plans to build a more than 3-gigawatt offshore wind farm in the New York Bight. When RWE first leased that site in 2022, it paid $1.1 billion for it — the biggest offshore wind lease auction ever held in the United States.
RWE promised that the resulting facility, dubbed Community Offshore Wind, would generate 700 jobs and $3 billion in local economic activity. It would have been close enough to New Jersey and New York that its power could have flowed to either state, although no final power contract was ever signed. Now all of that is kaput.
In the eyes of some critics, RWE had overpaid for that lease — and in that context, the Trump administration has I suppose done the German developer a favor, bailing them out from a bad investment in a legally dubious manner. (New York’s attorney general is suing to block a similar payout to Total Energies.)
But even beyond that context, there remains one big problem with these deals — an issue even more glaring now than when Trump started targeting wind projects last year. It is that the United States — and especially the Northeast, and especially New York — needs as much electricity as it can get right now. The Trump administration is striving to bring new power demand online in the form of data centers, but cutting off new sources of generation if they fail to meet its aesthetic standards.
Anticipating this sensitivity, RWE’s press statement announcing the deal goes on to list major energy projects that it’s committed to in the United States. These projects all involve, coincidentally (or not), fossil fuels: They include a $900 million stake in a Louisiana liquified natural gas export terminal and a $300 million reservation for new natural gas turbines. (RWE implies, but doesn’t say outright, that it will build 15 natural gas peaker plants with these turbines.) When we asked for more details about these projects, and whether we should anticipate anything new, RWE immediately got back to us: “We are unable to discuss further details on the investments.”
Yet as RWE well knows, these projects won’t help solve a coming energy shortage in New York or New England. For one, the Louisiana LNG export terminal is, well, an export terminal: It will help move energy out of the country, not generate more of it at home. Those exports might boost Americans’ fortunes in a vague, long-term, balance-of-payments way, but they won’t keep a lid on anyone’s power bills (which, by the way, just hit an all-time high). More importantly, the 15 peaker plants that RWE cites are largely going to be built … in other regions of the country. If the lights go out on Houston Street, a new gas plant in Houston can’t help.
Americans paid $217 on average for electricity last month, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub.
July is typically the season of high electricity bills, and this year is no exception.
Nationally, the average electricity bill spiked to $217, an all-time high, according to new data from Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub. That’s up from $177 in June, and $215 last July. Meanwhile, electricity rates were 19 cents per kilowatt-hour, virtually unchanged from June and slightly higher than July of last year.
Throughout the country, many ratepayers are seeing higher costs and charges in the portion of their bill covering the cost of power generation.
Once again, some of the most notable electricity price and bill trends were seen in the mid-Atlantic region, the heart of the data center boom and the anchor area of the PJM Interconnection. The region also includes Virginia, where Florida utility and energy developer NextEra is attempting to acquire the commonwealth’s dominant utility, Dominion.
In July, Dominion customers saw typical generation charges rise to $155 a month, up from $124 a year ago. Overall bills for Dominion customers were about $259 this past month.
The higher bills are in part due to the “fuel charge rider” that went into effect this past month to help recover about $1 billion in additional generation costs claimed by the utility. Those charges stem in part from higher fuel costs this past winter, when natural gas prices spiked to their highest level since the winter of 2022-23, Dominion officials said in a filing to the state’s utilities regulator. The MIT researchers estimate that the fuel charge added around $53 to July bills, up $12 from July of last year.
In neighboring Delaware, bills were $216 a month in July, a record high, while prices were around 19 cents per kilowatt-hour. Customers of the state’s main utility, Delmarva Power, saw a near 20% hike in the supply charge in their standard service offerings, as prices rose from around 16 cents per kilowatt-hour from last year.
The Delaware Public Service Commission voted at the beginning of last month to allow an interim rate increase of about $3 per month for the typical customer, which went into effect July 9. Soon after, Delaware Governor Matt Meyer signed a law giving the state’s regulators more discretion to reject putting certain utility costs into the rate base and thus limit subsequent price hikes requested by utilities. The governor’s office described the law as a mechanism “to prioritize prudent spending over unchecked cost recovery.”
The new vehicle — with a price tag just shy of $30,000, all in — represents the storied U.S. automaker’s big swing at winning entry-level buyers.
Ford’s electric moonshot, the mid-size pickup truck that would get it back into the EV race, finally has a name: Fathom.
The Detroit giant announced the name of its long-anticipated, highly mysterious vehicle on Thursday, alongside its price and some of its specs. The Ford Fathom will cost $28,350, not including delivery and destination fees that take its price right up to the 30-grand mark — $29,945, to be precise. Ford says it will start taking reservations early next year and deliver the first pickups later in 2027.
We don’t yet know the battery range or, crucially, what it’ll look like, as Ford is holding back the visual reveal. What we can say is that, as a mid-size pickup, the Fathom should be around the size of the gas-powered Ford Maverick, which has a near-identical starting price. Without getting into dimensions, Ford promises it will have more passenger volume than Toyota’s ubiquitous RAV4 SUV, with a frunk and a truck bed to boot.
Ford says every Fathom will be BlueCruise-capable, referencing the company’s hand-free driving assistant for highway travel. Fathom will also feature bi-directional power capability, enabling the battery to double as home energy storage, as well as embedded Apple Maps on its large touchscreen. Importantly, it will retain compatibility with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, which has become a dealbreak for many drivers.
Fathom will be the first EV produced on Ford’s Universal EV Platform, the technology setup that has been under development at the company’s skunkworks operation in Long Beach, California. I visited there this spring to see the team that was, far from the glare of the suits in Detroit, trying to reinvent the company’s EV manufacturing strategies so it could make better and more affordable electric cars. Even then, though, I couldn’t get a look at the Fathom — or any other car designs that may or may not be under way there, as they were all still under wraps.
The skunkworks project is all about process. Ford was losing billions on its previous generation of EVs, led by the Ford F-150 Lightning and Mustang Mach-E, despite the relatively high sticker price of those cars. Engineers tried to mimic some of the stripped-down, iterative strategies of smaller firms and startups — such as stripping miles of wiring out of the vehicles — to work faster and simplify manufacturing, thereby cutting costs.
That work has allowed Ford to start the Fathom at effectively $30,000, placing it smack within the range of America’s most affordable electric vehicles. Its most obvious competitor would be the Slate EV truck, which has just begun to take reservations. Slate starts at about $25,000, but that price gets you a bare-bones pickup with roll-up windows and a plain gray exterior. Add enough a la carte features to make the truck technologically competitive with something like the Fathom and it, too, would cost around $30,000.
At the price, the Ford Fathom is also directly competitive with entry-level EVs like the new Chevy Bolt and Nissan Leaf. But as a mid-sized truck, Fathom would be more spacious and practical than a vehicle like a Bolt, while coming in well below the $35,000 starting cost of a bigger crossover like the Chevy Equinox EV.
Ford, in its announcement, ruminated on the meanings behind the “Fathom” moniker. The company wanted its crucial new EV to have a name, not an alphanumeric code like the Ford F-150. Fathom was chosen because of its twin meanings: the classical unit of measure for water depth, and the verb meaning to deeply and fully understand something.
The implication is that the Fathom EV is meant to comprehend the customer and what they want out of an electric truck. How Ford’s pickup measures up to their aspirations depends greatly on details about this vehicle that are not yet known. But just putting out a battery-powered pickup truck for under $30,000 is a great start.