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The good, the bad, and the hedge
America’s largest oil and gas company just secured the missing elements for it to become one of the nation’s most powerful players in the nascent carbon capture and storage industry.
ExxonMobil announced last week that it was purchasing Denbury Inc., giving it access to an extensive network of pipelines for transporting carbon dioxide and land holdings for injecting the pollutant underground. The nearly $5 billion all-stock sale is the biggest “carbon management” deal yet.
Carbon management is an emerging industry premised on constructing a labyrinth of factories and pipelines to capture emissions from the smokestacks of industrial facilities, and also directly from the atmosphere, and pump them into the Earth’s crust. Exxon has espoused its work on carbon capture for years, but the company’s investments have never matched its rhetoric, fueling accusations of greenwashing. Now, it suddenly seems to be positioning itself to become this carbon maze’s lead architect.
What does it all mean? The Biden administration and many clean energy researchers believe carbon capture may be the only way to reduce emissions from certain sectors like chemical manufacturing, steel making, and cement production — at least in the near term. Some argue that a company like Exxon has the expertise and capital to build this infrastructure, and that carbon management presents a new potential business model for the company. But the idea is controversial among many climate advocates who worry that it will serve solely to give Exxon and others license to continue digging up and selling fossil fuels.
Of course, it’s impossible to know Exxon’s intentions without being in the boardroom. But when I spoke to experts about what the acquisition of Danbury signaled, three theories emerged about the company’s motivations.
Exxon has claimed to be a leader in carbon capture for years, but until recently, the company’s only U.S. project consisted of a single site in Wyoming where Exxon processes natural gas. The carbon collected there was sold to other fossil fuel companies, including Denbury, to inject into depleted oil wells in order to squeeze more crude out of the ground — a technique known as enhanced oil recovery.
But the company has been under increased shareholder pressure over the last several years to do more to reduce its emissions and invest in clean industries. Exxon has long lagged its peers in even disclosing its carbon footprint, let alone setting targets to reduce it. But after activist investors won three seats on Exxon’s board in 2021, the company launched a Low Carbon Solutions business focused on carbon capture, clean hydrogen, and biofuels.
In just the past year, the new outfit has made deals with a handful of industrial emitters throughout the Gulf Coast to manage their carbon dioxide emissions. Exxon has announced contracts to haul off the carbon captured from an ammonia plant in Louisiana — the largest greenhouse gas emitter in the state — as well as a steel plant owned by Nucor and a yet-to-be-built hydrogen plant in Baytown, Texas. It also formed a partnership with Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, which has developed a leading solution for capturing carbon from industrial smokestacks.
The deal with Denbury will significantly speed up the company’s ability to deliver on those agreements. It gives Exxon access not only to 1,300 miles of carbon dioxide pipelines, but also to underground storage capacity estimated at 2 billion metric tons of CO2 — close to a third of what the U.S. emitted in 2021.
To Neil Quach, a former oil and gas analyst for Citigroup and UBS who now works at the think tank Carbon Tracker, the deal shows that Exxon is taking the low carbon future seriously — at least more seriously than its peers like Chevron. He recently authored a paper criticizing Exxon’s strategy, arguing that the company’s oil and gas portfolio was “highly vulnerable to the energy transition.”
“I’ve been arguing that they have to get into transition businesses in a more material way, and this is one step toward that,” he told me. At the same time, though, he noted that the $5 billion deal was still only a drop in the bucket — Exxon turned a $56 billion profit last year and is valued at $400 billion.
Though Exxon appears to be starting to build out a material carbon capture business, to some observers, the key question is, to what end?
“I’m not too enthralled with this purchase,” Dennis Wamsted, an energy analyst at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis, and frequent critic of carbon capture, told me. “I see it as a way for Exxon to harvest subsidies from the U.S. government,” he said. “I don’t see this as a legitimate business effort by Exxon to lower its impact on the climate going forward.”
Wamsted was referring to tax credits for carbon capture that were recently juiced by the Inflation Reduction Act. Companies can now earn up to $85 for every metric ton of CO2 they collect from the smokestacks of factories and sequester — making it a potentially profitable endeavor for the first time.
There’s no question that Biden’s signature climate policy is a key motivator for Exxon and also Denbury. Previously, Denbury’s business model centered on using carbon dioxide for enhanced oil recovery. But the company has recently been scooping up acreage in Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas, and Wyoming — 10 sites in all — for pure carbon sequestration.
This is what the tax credits were designed to do — otherwise, why would Exxon or Denbury bother spending money to bury carbon when it’s free to dump it into the atmosphere and profitable to use it to extract oil?
I asked Wamsted what would constitute a legitimate effort and whether it matters if Exxon is “harvesting subsidies” if the result is to lower emissions. But he’s not convinced the efforts will actually lead to climate-relevant results. Wamsted acknowledged that it’s challenging to cut emissions from certain industries like steelmaking in other ways, but he’s skeptical that carbon capture will ultimately be the best way to do it. In the case of Nucor, for example, Exxon’s project won’t fully eliminate the emissions produced by the steel plant.
“If there are things that work in five years I’ll give them credit for it,” Wamsted said, “but we have a very short timeframe here to try to get our carbon emissions under control.”
Many of Wamsted’s concerns, like of the safety and security of storing carbon underground, are shared by communities that live near Exxon’s potential injection sites, which could be a hurdle for the projects as they unfold. Many in the environmental justice movement fear that carbon capture will extend the life of polluting plants they would rather see shut down, and could even amplify the risks of living near these sites.
“In the real world, this is an experiment,” Beverly Wright, the executive director of the Deep South Center for Environmental Justice, told The Washington Post. “And this experiment is going to be conducted on the same communities that have suffered from the oil and gas industry.”
If there are two potential futures — one where the world allows the production of fossil fuels for decades to come, and one where production is forced to wind down — perhaps Exxon is just trying to prepare for both scenarios.
“When I looked at the Exxon investment in Denbury, I was curious if it actually signaled a change in how the company was thinking about the future,” Andrew Logan, the senior director of oil and gas at the sustainable investing nonprofit Ceres, told me. “Is it actually thinking the world is going to proceed toward decarbonization, and investing accordingly? Or is this just a way to cover the bases in case things don’t go as they expect?”
Since the Inflation Reduction Act completely changed the economics of carbon capture, Exxon doesn’t have to have had some big change of heart about the energy transition to see it as a good bet. And there’s no indication the company is slowing down its fossil fuel business. CEO Darren Woods announced in early June that he aimed to double the amount of oil Exxon fracks in the U.S. in the next five years. The acquisition of Denbury also comes with significant oil production capacity, including a new enhanced oil recovery project called the Cedar Creek Anticline expected to produce 12,500 barrels per day by late 2024. But in taking over Denbury’s pipelines, Exxon is also better positioned to grow its carbon capture business if it makes sense to.
One of the reasons deciphering all this is so hard is that for a long time the promise of carbon capture technology was used as a way to slow progress, and now it could actually bring about real world emission reductions. But that still depends on how it’s implemented, and whether or not it enables the continued use of fossil fuels.
“In a way, it makes it more complicated because you’re actually gonna see stuff built in a way that we haven’t for the last two decades,” said Logan. “But it still does not remove the need to take much more ambitious steps to bring down emissions elsewhere in the industry.”
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The administration seems to be pursuing a “some of the above” strategy with little to no internal logic.
The Department of Energy justified terminating hundreds of congressionally-mandated grants issued by the Biden administration for clean energy projects last week (including for a backup battery at a children’s hospital) by arguing that they were bad investments for the American people.
“Following a thorough, individualized financial review, DOE determined that these projects did not adequately advance the nation’s energy needs, were not economically viable, and would not provide a positive return on investment of taxpayer dollars,” the agency’s press release said.
It’s puzzling, then, that the Trump administration is pouring vast government resources into saving aging coal plants and expediting advanced nuclear projects — two sources of energy that are famously financial black holes.
The Energy Department announced it would invest $625 million to “reinvigorate and expand America’s coal industry” in late September. Earlier this year, the agency also made $900 million available to “unlock commercial deployment of American-made small modular reactors.”
It’s hard to imagine what economic yardsticks would warrant funding to keep coal plants open. The cost of operating a coal plant in the U.S. has increased by nearly 30% since 2021 — faster than inflation — according to research by Energy Innovation. Driving that increase is the cost of coal itself, as well as the fact that the nation’s coal plants are simply getting very old and more expensive to maintain. “You can put all the money you want into a clunker, but at the end of the day, it’s really old, and it’s just going to keep getting more expensive over time, even if you have a short term fix,” Michelle Solomon, a program manager at Energy Innovation who authored the research, told me.
Keeping these plants online — even if they only operate some of the time— inevitably raises electricity bills. That’s because in many of the country’s electricity markets, the cost of power on any given day is determined by the most expensive plant running. On a hot summer day when everyone’s air conditioners are working hard and the grid operator has to tell a coal plant to switch on to meet demand, every electron delivered in the region will suddenly cost the same as coal, even if it was generated essentially for free by the sun or wind.
The Trump administration has also based its support for coal plants on the idea that they are needed for reliability. In theory, coal generation should be available around the clock. But in reality, the plants aren’t necessarily up to the task — and not just because they’re old. Sandy Creek in Texas, which began operating in 2013 and is the newest coal plant in the country, experienced a major failure this past April and is now expected to stay offline until 2027, according to the region’s grid operator. In a report last year, the North American Electric Reliability Corporation warned that outage rates for coal plants are increasing. This is in part due to wear and tear from the way these plants cycle on and off to accommodate renewable energy sources, the report said, but it’s also due to reduced maintenance as plant operators plan to retire the facilities.
“You can do the deferred maintenance. It might keep the plant operating for a bit longer, but at the end of the day, it’s still not going to be the most efficient source of energy, or the cheapest source of energy,” Solomon said.
The contradictions snowball from there. On September 30, the DOE opened a $525 million funding opportunity for coal plants titled “Restoring Reliability: Coal Recommissioning and Modernization,” inviting coal-fired power plants that are scheduled for retirement before 2032 or in rural areas to apply for grants that will help keep them open. The grant paperwork states that grid capacity challenges “are especially acute in regions with constrained transmission and sustained load growth.” Two days later, however, as part of the agency’s mass termination of grants, it canceled more than $1.3 billion in awards from the Grid Deployment Office to upgrade and install new transmission lines to ease those constraints.
The new funding opportunity may ultimately just shuffle awards around from one coal plant to another, or put previously-awarded projects through the time-and-money-intensive process of reapplying for the same funding under a new name. Up to $350 million of the total will go to as many as five coal plants, with initial funding to restart closed plants or to modernize old ones, and later phases designated for carbon capture, utilization, and storage retrofits. The agency said it will use “unobligated” money from three programs that were part of the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act: the Carbon Capture Demonstration Projects Program, the Carbon Capture Large-Scale Pilot Projects, and the Energy Improvements in Rural or Remote Areas Program.
In a seeming act of cognitive dissonance, however, the agency has canceled awards for two coal-fired power plants that the Biden administration made under those same programs. One, a $6.5 million grant to Navajo Transitional Energy Company, a tribal-owned entity that owns a stake in New Mexico’s Four Corners Generating Station, would have funded a study to determine whether adding carbon capture and storage to the plant was economically viable. The other, a $50 million grant to TDA Research that would have helped the company validate its CCS technology at Dry Fork Station, a coal plant in Wyoming, was terminated in May.
Two more may be out the window. A new internal agency list of grants labeled “terminate” that circulated this week included an $8 million grant for the utility Duke Energy to evaluate the feasibility of capturing carbon from its Edwardsport plant in Indiana, and $350 million for Project Tundra, a carbon capture demonstration project at the Milton R. Young Station in North Dakota.
“It’s not internally consistent,” Jack Andreason Cavanaugh, a global fellow at the Columbia University’s Carbon Management Research Initiative, told me. “You’re canceling coal grants, but then you’re giving $630 million to keep them open. You’re also investing a ton of time and money into nuclear — which is great, to be clear — but these small modular reactors haven’t been deployed in the United States, and part of the reason is that they’re currently not economically viable.”
The closest any company has come thus far to deploying a small modular reactor in the U.S. is NuScale, a company that planned to build its first-of-a-kind reactors in Idaho and had secured agreements to sell the power to a group of public utilities in Utah. But between 2015, when it was first proposed, and late 2023, when it died, the project’s budget tripled from $3 billion to more than $9 billion, while its scale was reduced from 600 megawatts to 462 megawatts. Not all of that was inevitable — costs rose dramatically in the final few years due to inflation. The reason NuScale ultimately pulled out of the project is that the cost of electricity it generated was going to be too high for the market to bear.
It’s unclear how heavily the DOE will weigh project financials in the application process for the $900 million for nuclear reactors. In its funding announcement, it specified that the awards would be made “solely based on technical merit.” The agency’s official solicitation paperwork, however, names “financial viability” as one of the key review criteria. Regardless, the Trump administration appears to recognize the value in funding first-of-a-kind, risky technologies when it comes to nuclear, but is not applying the same standards to direct air capture or hydrogen plants.
I asked the Department of Energy to share the criteria it used in the project review process to determine economic viability. In response, spokesperson Ben Dietderich encouraged me to read Wright’s memorandum describing the review process from May. The memo outlines what types of documentation the agency will evaluate to reach a decision, but not the criteria for making that decision.
Solomon agreed that advanced nuclear might one day meet the grid’s growing power needs, but not anytime soon. “Hopefully in the long term, this technology does become a part of our electricity system. But certainly relying on it in the short term has real risks to electricity costs,” she said. “And also reliability, in the sense that the projects might not materialize.”
The collateral damage from the Lava Ridge wind project might now include a proposed 285-mile transmission line initially approved by federal regulators in the 1990s.
The same movement that got Trump to kill the Lava Ridge wind farm Trump killed has appeared to derail a longstanding transmission project that’s supposed to connect sought-after areas for wind energy in Idaho to power-hungry places out West.
The Southwest Intertie Project-North, also known as SWIP-N, is a proposed 285-mile transmission line initially approved by federal regulators in the 1990s. If built, SWIP-N is supposed to feed power from the wind-swept plains of southern Idaho to the Southwest, while shooting electrons – at least some generated from solar power – back up north into Idaho from Nevada, Utah, and Arizona. In California, regulators have identified the line as crucial for getting cleaner wind energy into the state’s grid to meet climate goals.
But on Tuesday, SWIP-N suddenly faced a major setback: The three-person commission representing Jerome County, Idaho – directly in the path of the project – voted to revoke its special use permit, stating the company still lacked proper documentation to meet the terms and conditions of the approval. SWIP-N had the wind at its back as recently as last year, when LS Power expected it to connect to Lava Ridge and other wind farms that have been delayed by Trump’s federal permitting freeze on renewable energy. But now, the transmission line has stuttered along with this potential generation.
At a hearing Tuesday evening, county commissioners said Great Basin Transmission, a subsidiary of LS Power developing the line, would now suddenly need new input, including the blessing of the local highway district and potential feedback from the Federal Aviation Administration. Jerome County Commissioner Charles Howell explained to me Wednesday afternoon that there will still need to be formal steps remanding the permit, and the process will go back to local zoning officials. Great Basin Transmission will then at minimum need to get the sign-offs from local highway officials to satisfy his concerns, as well as those of the other commissioner who voted to rescind the permit, Ben Crouch.
The permit was many years old, and there are outstanding questions about what will happen next procedurally, including what Great Basin Transmission is actually able to do to fight this choice by the commissioners. At minimum, staff for the commission will write a formal decision explaining the reasoning and remand the permit. After that, it’ll be up to Great Basin Transmission to produce the documents that commissioners want. “Even our attorney and staff didn’t have those answers when we asked that after the vote,” Howell said, adding that he hopes the issues can be resolved. “I was on the county commission about when they decided where to site the towers, where to site the right-of-ways. That’s all been there a long time.”
This is the part where I bring up how Jerome County’s decision followed a months-long fight by aggrieved residents who opposed the SWIP-N line, including homeowners who say they didn’t know their properties were in the path of the project. There’s also a significant anti-wind undercurrent, as many who are fighting this transmission line previously fought LS Power’s Lava Ridge wind project, which was blocked by and executive order from President Donald Trump on his first day in office. Jerome County itself passed an ordinance in May requiring any renewable energy facility to get all federal, state, and local approvals before it would sign off on new projects.
Opposition to SWIP-N comes from a similar place as the “Stop Lava Ridge” campaign. Along with viewshed anxieties and property value impacts, SWIP-N, like Lava Ridge, would be within single-digit miles of the Minidoka National Historic Site, a former prison camp that held Japanese-Americans during World War II. In the eyes of its staunchest critics, constructing the wind farm would’ve completely damaged any impact of visiting the site by filling the surroundings of what is otherwise a serene, somber scene. Descendants of Minidoka detainees lobbied politicians at all levels to oppose Lava Ridge, a cause that was ultimately championed by Republican politicians in their fight against the project.
These same descendants of Japanese-American detainees have fought the transmission line, arguing that its construction would inevitably lead to new wind projects. “If approved, the SWIP-N line would enable LS Power and other renewable energy companies to build massive wind projects on federal land in and around Jerome County in future years,” wrote Dan Sakura, the son of a Minidoka prisoner, in a September 15 letter to the commission.
Sakura had been a leading voice in the fight against Lava Ridge. When I asked why he was weighing in on SWIP-N, he told me over text message, “The Lava Ridge wind project poisoned the well for renewable energy projects on federal land in Southern Idaho.”
LS Power did not respond to a request for comment.
It’s worth noting that efforts have already been made to avoid SWIP-N’s impacts to the Minidoka National Historic Site. In 2010, Congress required the Interior Secretary to re-do the review process for the transmission line, which at the time was proposed to go through the historic site. The route rejected by Jerome County would go around.
There is also no guarantee that wind energy will flock to southern Idaho any time soon. Yes, there’s a Trump permitting freeze, and federal wind energy tax credits are winding down. That’s almost certainly why the developers of small nuclear reactors have reportedly coveted the Lava Ridge site for future projects. But there’s also incredible hostility pent up against wind partially driven by the now-defunct LS Power project, for instance in Lincoln County, where officials now have an emergency moratorium banning wind energy while they develop a more permanent restrictive ordinance.
Howell made no bones about his own views on wind farms, telling me he prefers battery storage and nuclear power. “As I stand here in my backyard, if they put up windmills, that’s all I’m going to see for 40 miles,” he said
But Howell did confess to me that he thinks SWIP-N will ultimately be built – if the company is able to get these new sign-offs. What kind of energy flows through a transmission line cannot ultimately affect the decision on the special use permit because, he said, “there are rules.” On top of that, Idaho is going to ultimately need more power no matter what, and at the very least, the state will have to get electrons from elsewhere.
Howell’s “non-political” answer to the fate of SWIP-N, as he put it to me, is that “We live on power, so we gotta have more power.”
The week’s most important news around renewable project fights.
1. Western Nevada — The Esmeralda 7 solar mega-project may be no more.
2. Washoe County, Nevada – Elsewhere in Nevada, the Greenlink North transmission line has been delayed by at least another month.
3. Oconto County, Wisconsin – Solar farm town halls are now sometimes getting too scary for developers to show up at.
4. Apache County, Arizona – In brighter news, this county looks like it will give its first-ever conditional use permit for a large solar farm, EDF Renewables’ Juniper Spring project.
5. Putnam County, Indiana – After hearing about what happened here this week, I’m fearful for any solar developer trying to work in Indiana.
6. Tippecanoe County, Indiana – Two counties to the north of Putnam is a test case for the impacts a backlash on solar energy can have on data centers.