Ideas
Why We’re So Bad at Predicting the Future of Energy
A climate scientist goes back to the numbers to argue that we’re overestimating the cost of the energy transition.
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A climate scientist goes back to the numbers to argue that we’re overestimating the cost of the energy transition.
A group of energy researchers have a three-part prescription for Washington, D.C.’s exploding energy costs.
The founder of one-time sustainable apparel company Zady argues that policy is the only that can push the industry toward more responsible practices.
Invest in Our Future’s Peter Colavito on why funders and advocates should pay more attention to the solar farm down the road.
The CEO of Climeworks argues that the buildout of technology to suck greenhouse gas from the air should be considered part of the cost of artificial intelligence.
Party orthodoxy is no longer serving the energy transition, the Breakthrough Institute’s Seaver Wang and Peter Cook write.
It’s an idea with bipartisan appeal, but AOC’s former policy adviser argues that the scale of the data center problem is too big for that.
Last night, between the trumpeting of fossil fuels and the lengthy honors awarded to both veterans and hockey players, President Trump devoted a portion of his State of the Union address to announcing a “ratepayer protection pledge,” under which big tech companies pay for their own power plants for data centers — a show of how central energy prices are becoming to today’s affordability debate.
Electricity in the United States is rapidly becoming expensive and unreliable. Vast swaths of the United States are at elevated risk of outages. January’s winter storms wiped out power for millions of Americans from Louisiana to Brooklyn. In 2025, utilities requested a record $31 billion in rate increases from captive customers. Gas and electricity prices are the two highest drivers of inflation.
The main driver of these new stressors on the grid: the expected $6.7 trillion to be deployed in data centers by 2030.
Policymakers at all levels of governments are coalescing on a strategy for dealing with rising data center demand that mirrors Trump’s ratepayer protection pledge: “bring your own generation,” or BYOG. Bipartisan bills introduced in Washington by Senators Chris Van Hollen, and Josh Hawley and Richard Blumenthal; and by Representatives Rob Menendez and Greg Casar, among others, would require hyperscalers like Meta, OpenAI, and Microsoft to pay for their own power plants and grid upgrades in order to plug in. Michigan, Oregon, Florida, Washington, Georgia, Illinois, and Delaware are all at various stages of enacting BYOG legislation for data centers.
BYOG would create something like a regulatory sandbox for data centers, insulating utilities and ratepayers from the risks of data center demand. But while efforts at consumer protection are important, these policies do not grapple with the scale of data center deployment.
A sandbox won’t withstand a tidal wave. Over the next five years, the equivalent of 17 to 32 New York Cities’ worth of electricity demand is expected to be added to the grid, more than half of which will come from data centers. This incredibly wide estimate means that generators risk overbuilding.
Amidst all this uncertainty, BYOG does not address who pays for new capacity in the event the AI bubble bursts and energy infrastructure is left stranded. Neither does BYOG address the drastically mismatched lifetimes of the chips powering AI (one to three years) and power plants (25 to 30 years). The Federal Energy Regulatory Commission expects 22 New York Cities’ worth of generation to be added to the grid by 2028. Who pays for all of this generation in a decade if even 5% of projected data center demand disappears?
AI is a promising technology, but that does not prevent it from being overvalued. Policymakers must consider the risks when data centers eventually disconnect from the grid, not just when they interconnect. This means ensuring that ratepayers and taxpayers are not left footing the bill for stranded energy infrastructure if data centers disconnect prematurely.
Rather than cordoning off data centers from the rest of the electricity market, policymakers should take a stronger hand in planning these deployments for social and economic benefit. Colocating datacenters with energy-intensive industries and requiring long-term commitments from hyperscalers are more efficient solutions that would also make new data centers more politically palatable.
Public sentiment has turned overwhelmingly against data center development. These vast facilities create relatively few jobs beyond their construction, but colocated with the manufacture of energy-intensive products like aluminum, steel, or fertilizer, suddenly they’re supporting employment. Colocation will also help diversify economic growth. Data center investment was responsible for a whopping 92% of GDP growth in the first half of 2025, creating a potentially dangerous dependency on continued expansion.
There are also simple legal guardrails that can provide a first line of defense against stranded costs. One is requiring long-term power purchase agreements between hyperscalers and generators. Thirteen bipartisan governors and the Trump administration recently urged the country’s largest grid operator, PJM Interconnection, to require 15-year generation contracts for hyperscalers. Notably, Van Hollen’s bill would only require states to “consider” the extension of “minimum utility contract lengths,” while the Hawley/Blumenthal and Menendez/Casar bills make no mention of contract length or stranded costs.
Hyperscalers can also curtail usage during peak demand, a policy that has seen bipartisan support in Texas. A now-famous study from Duke University last year found that if data centers were to curtail 1% of their usage during peak hours, they could avoid installing 126 gigawatts of new generation — that’s 21 New York Cities’ worth. Lawmakers have since taken to the idea. Several states are considering mandating so-called “demand response” programs, and Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Kathy Castor inserted a federal study on demand response into the appropriations bill Trump signed in January.
Regardless of how it’s done, ratepayers should not pay full freight for the tidal wave of infrastructure coming online, and most utility balance sheets should not be exposed to that risk. BYOG’s flaws have more to do with what it leaves out — namely that the planning of significant parts of our economy and electric system is left to tech companies, and little thought is given to the long-term ramifications of overbuilding. Rather than deal reactively with the nasty politics of a bailout, policymakers should make muscular interventions now to reduce risks for ratepayers and taxpayers.
Energy markets are not free markets. For the past century they have been heavily regulated at the state, regional, and federal level. Any discomfort with planning (or “statutory tools”) must be set aside if policymakers are going to efficiently manage the growth of data centers.
A senior scholar at Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy on what Trump has lost by dismantling Biden’s energy resilience strategy.
A fossil fuel superpower cannot sustain deep emissions reductions if doing so drives up costs for vulnerable consumers, undercuts strategic domestic industries, or threatens the survival of communities that depend on fossil fuel production. That makes America’s climate problem an economic problem.
Or at least that was the theory behind Biden-era climate policy. The agenda embedded in major legislation — including the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act and the Inflation Reduction Act — combined direct emissions-reduction tools like clean energy tax credits with a broader set of policies aimed at reshaping the U.S. economy to support long-term decarbonization. At a minimum, this mix of emissions-reducing and transformation-inducing policies promised a valuable test of political economy: whether sustained investments in both clean energy industries and in the most vulnerable households and communities could help build the economic and institutional foundations for a faster and less disruptive energy transition.
Sweeping policy reversals have cut these efforts short. Abandoning the strategy makes the U.S. economy less resilient to the decline of fossil fuels. It also risks sowing distrust among communities and firms that were poised to benefit, complicating future efforts to recommit to the economic policies needed to sustain an energy transition.
This agenda rested on the idea that sustaining decarbonization would require structural changes across the economy, not just cleaner sources of energy. First, in a country that derives substantial economic and geopolitical power from carbon-intensive industries, a durable energy transition would require the United States to become a clean energy superpower in its own right. Only then could the domestic economy plausibly gain, rather than lose, from a shift away from fossil fuels.
Second, with millions of households struggling to afford basic energy services and fossil fuels often providing relatively cheap energy, climate policy would need to ensure that clean energy deployment reduces household energy burdens rather than exacerbates them.
Third, policies would need to strengthen the economic resilience of communities that rely heavily on fossil fuel industries so the energy transition does not translate into shrinking tax bases, school closures, and lost economic opportunity in places that have powered the country for generations.
This strategy to reshape the economy for the energy transition has largely been dismantled under President Trump.
My recent research examines federal support for fossil fuel-reliant communities, assessing President Biden’s stated goal of “revitalizing the economies of coal, oil, gas, and power plant communities.” Federal spending data provides little evidence that these at-risk communities have been effectively targeted. One reason is timing: While legislation authorized unprecedented support, actual disbursements lagged far behind those commitments.
Many of the key policies — including $4 billion in manufacturing tax credits reserved for communities affected by coal closures — took years to move from statutory language to implementation guidance and final project selection. As a result, aside from certain pandemic-era programs, fossil fuel-reliant communities had received limited support by the time Trump took office last year.
Since then, the Trump administration and Congress have canceled projects intended to benefit fossil fuel-reliant regions, including carbon capture and clean hydrogen demonstrations, and discontinued programs designed to help communities access and implement federal funding.
Other elements of the strategy to reduce the country’s vulnerability to fossil fuel decline have fared even worse under the Trump administration. Programs intended to help households access and afford clean energy — most notably the $27 billion Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund — were effectively canceled last year, including attempts to claw back previously awarded funds. More broadly, the rollback of IRA programs with an explicit equity or justice focus leaves lower-income households more exposed to the economic disruptions that can accompany an energy transition.
By contrast, subsidies and grant programs aimed at strengthening the country’s energy manufacturing base have largely survived, including tax credits supporting domestic production of batteries, solar components, and other key technologies. Even so, the investment environment has weakened. Automakers have scaled back planned U.S. battery manufacturing expansions. Clean Investment Monitor data shows annual clean energy manufacturing investments on pace to decline in 2025, after rising sharply from 2022 to 2024. Whatever one believed about the potential to build globally competitive domestic supply chains for the technologies that will power clean energy systems, those prospects have dimmed amid slowing investment and the Trump administration’s prioritization of fossil fuels.
Perhaps these outcomes were unavoidable. Building a strong domestic solar industry was always uncertain, and place-based economic development programs have a mixed track record even under favorable conditions. Still, the Biden-era approach reflected a coherent theory of climate politics that warranted a real-world test.
Over the past year, debates in climate policy circles have centered on whether clean energy progress can continue under less supportive federal policies, with plausible cases made on both sides. The fate of Biden’s broader economic strategy to sustain the energy transition, however, is less ambiguous. The underlying dependence of the United States on fossil fuels across industries, households, and many local communities remains largely unchanged.