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How Democrats Can Make Sure Their Energy Policy Sticks
Two longtime climate strategists have four ways the new congressional majority can work with states to get it right.
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Two longtime climate strategists have four ways the new congressional majority can work with states to get it right.
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GOP lawmakers know climate change is real. But they lack political incentives to do anything about it.
The New York Times recently profiled former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist and his increasing engagement on climate change. Many of the online comments accused him of hypocrisy. Why, they asked, did he only become concerned about climate change after leaving Congress?
It’s an understandable question.
I have spent the better part of a decade discussing climate change with Republican members of Congress and can see a frequently overlooked part of the answer. During my hundreds of one-on-one conversations with Republican senators and representatives, almost none of them deny that climate change is occurring. Most understand the science well enough, and many acknowledge privately that it presents serious long-term risks.
They don’t lack knowledge. They lack political incentives.
Members of Congress have finite political capital. Every day they must decide which issues deserve their attention. Naturally, they devote their time to the issues that voters, donors, activists, staff, and party leaders tell them matter most.
Politics is a marketplace of incentives. For decades, climate advocates have devoted their efforts to changing Republicans’ minds, but have devoted little effort to changing the incentives for Republicans to act.
The political ecosystem for Democrats could not be more different. Democrats are surrounded by organizations that continually reinforce the importance of climate policy. Environmental groups, philanthropies, labor organizations, advocacy organizations, academics, campaign donors, think tanks, and congressional staff all create an environment in which climate engagement is expected and rewarded.
Republicans experience almost none of that.
When I was quoted in the New York Times article, I described the “eco right” as “a lonely place.” I meant it literally. There are remarkably few conservative organizations whose primary mission is helping Republican elected officials develop serious climate policy. Few donors make climate engagement a condition of support. Few advocacy groups reward constructive leadership. Few congressional staff have access to a deep bench of conservative climate experts. Climate is far more often presented as a political liability than a leadership opportunity.
In that environment, addressing climate change is rarely a priority. This largely explains what puzzles many observers — that Republican leaders often become noticeably more outspoken about addressing climate change after leaving office. The science has not changed. Their incentives have.
Freed from primary elections, fundraising pressures, and the constant competition for legislative attention, they’re able to think about problems whose consequences unfold over decades instead of election cycles.
That observation leads to an uncomfortable conclusion for those of us who want stronger climate policy: Persuading Republicans that climate change is real is not just unnecessary, it’s unproductive. They know it’s real. The more important task is building the institutions that make climate engagement a priority. That means investing in conservative policy organizations, developing Republican congressional staff expertise, supporting Republican governors and state legislators, encouraging business leaders to engage, creating donor networks that reward constructive center-right leadership, and giving Republican members credible partners they can trust.
In other words, we need to make the eco-right a much less lonely place.
Building institutions requires capital, both political and financial. Today, the overwhelming majority of climate-related political spending — whether by advocacy organizations, political action committees, or philanthropically supported campaigns — flows to Democratic candidates and causes. It’s understandable. Democrats have generally been more supportive of climate action, and donors naturally want to reward those who stand with them.
But rewarding allies isn’t the same as expanding the number of them.
If the objective is durable climate policy rather than simply electing more Democrats, then the current allocation of political spending deserves reconsideration. Congress writes laws, and lasting legislation almost always requires bipartisan support. A movement that invests overwhelmingly in one party shouldn’t be surprised when the other party lacks champions, expertise, and political incentives.
Climate philanthropists, advocacy organizations, and political action committees should explicitly seek to create Republican allies by committing a more significant portion of their electoral spending to Republican candidates. This support would send a powerful signal throughout Republican politics that constructive engagement on climate change will be rewarded. More Republican candidates would respond to those incentives, and the universe of viable partners would expand.
For Republicans, the greatest opportunity lies in primary elections. While general elections determine which party governs, primaries determine what kind of Republicans and Democrats will govern. Donors should identify Republican candidates who are willing to engage on a variety of climate-related topics — from adaptation and resilience to market-based policies that reduce emissions to energy innovation — and help them succeed. The objective isn’t ideological purity. It’s to demonstrate that constructive climate leadership is politically viable within today’s Republican Party, and to give those candidates the confidence that they aren’t alone.
Over time, this approach would accomplish something today’s funding model cannot. Rather than simply rewarding an existing coalition, it would create a larger one. It would produce more Republican members who see climate engagement as compatible with conservative principles. Climate change would still be a scientific and economic challenge, but politics would no longer preclude addressing it.
Rather than increasingly evident climate change adding to political division, it could drive both parties to act. America’s biggest policy achievements have generally occurred when a president elevated an issue as a national priority and Congress responded. Tax reform, welfare reform, civil rights, and other major agreements all required presidential leadership before they produced durable bipartisan legislation.
Climate policy has not yet reached that level. While voters increasingly care about it, it does not determine presidential elections or dominate governing agendas.
The closest climate change has come to being a top-tier issue was when President George H.W. Bush signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change in 1992, but that was before addressing climate change became so partisan. More recently, President Joe Biden included clean energy tax credits in the Inflation Reduction Act. That modest success is noteworthy in part because it rode upon legislation to address inflation, a top-tier voter issue — and because the provisions were largely repealed less than three years later. Until climate change becomes a presidential-level issue — one that candidates in both parties believe they must address — Congress is unlikely to devote sustained attention to it.
That day will come. And when that moment arrives, the quality of the legislation will depend on the work being done now. If we want bipartisan climate policy tomorrow, we need to build bipartisan political capacity today.
The climate movement has spent decades rewarding allies. The next several decades should be spent adding more. Politics follows incentives more than information. If we want Republicans to lead on addressing climate change or at least become those allies, we must stop just trying to persuade them and start investing in the institutions, incentives, and people that make it possible.
Two former defense officials argue that Rivian may be as important to America’s national security as SpaceX.
For years, policymakers have debated electric vehicles as if they were merely another consumer product. They are not.
Electric vehicles are the largest source of demand for advanced batteries, and batteries are rapidly becoming one of the foundational technologies of the 21st century. They power cars, drones, data centers, grid storage systems, autonomous weapons, military platforms. Over time, they will power most of the wider economy. In strategic terms, batteries are beginning to look less like mere automobile components and more like semiconductors — that is, chokepoint technologies critical to the functioning of modern society.
The future of the U.S. EV industry matters far beyond transportation. Given that electric vehicles remain the primary source of demand for batteries, a healthy U.S. battery sector requires an American auto industry that produces and sells EVs at scale. Without a strategic plan that marshals both public and private sector investment in support of EV uptake by American consumers, the U.S. will leave itself with critical security vulnerabilities — not in some far-distant future that may never come to pass, but in the present.
Right now, China rules the global battery ecosystem. Chinese firms lead not only in battery manufacturing, but also in the upstream processing of critical minerals, the production of midstream cathodes and anodes, and the commercialization of next-generation battery technologies. China also controls most of the global processing capacity for graphite, the key material used in battery anodes, and dominates production of the intermediate components that determine battery cost and performance.
The implications of this imbalance extend well beyond auto production, or even mere economics. As we know well from our time serving in the Pentagon, the Department of Defense’s future force will rely increasingly on electrification. Tactical drones and other autonomous systems, portable power units, communications equipment, unmanned logistics vehicles, and resilient military installations all require advanced batteries. In case any of this remained in doubt, the conflict in Ukraine has demonstrated beyond dispute the central importance of battery-powered platforms on the modern battlefield. The same will inevitably prove true in the Indo-Pacific, where the U.S. military is investing heavily in unmanned systems designed to operate across vast distances and obviate risks from lengthy supply lines.
Unfortunately for the Pentagon, defense demand alone is far too small to sustain a globally competitive battery industry. The Department of Defense cannot create the manufacturing scale necessary to compete with China, as military procurement represents only a tiny fraction of battery demand. Only the commercial market can provide the volume needed to drive innovation, lower costs, and sustain domestic production, and the commercial market is driven overwhelmingly by electric vehicles. Here, the loss of consumer tax incentives undermined American automakers’ turn towards EVs, causing them to write off tens of billions of dollars of investments.
This is the strategic reality often missing from America's energy debate. Even a country as large and powerful as the United States cannot maintain a world-class battery industry while undercutting the largest source of battery demand.
Some policymakers appear to believe that the United States can support battery manufacturing for military systems, artificial intelligence infrastructure, and grid storage while simultaneously slowing EV adoption. That is wishful thinking.
Without a robust domestic EV market, battery manufacturers lose the scale that makes investment attractive, and production will inevitably move elsewhere. That's fine for other manufacturing sectors like t-shirts and toys, but unacceptable for technologies with critical national security applications.
The United States has seen this movie before. American firms pioneered many of the technologies behind solar panels, lithium-ion batteries, and lithium iron phosphate batteries, but China ultimately captured much of the manufacturing base for these products. Through sustained investment, patient industrial policy, and relentless focus on scale, Chinese firms drove down costs and built ecosystems that are now extraordinarily difficult to replicate. The result is that companies such as CATL and BYD occupy increasingly dominant positions in the battery sector, akin to those once held by American technology champions.
As a result, China's EV industry is now becoming a global export powerhouse. Chinese automakers are no longer producing low-cost copies of Western vehicles. As we know firsthand from a recent tour of the Xiaomi factory outside Beijing, Chinese factories are now producing technologically sophisticated products that are winning on price, performance, and quality when compared with the best that the United States or Europe have on offer. As a result, companies like BYD are rapidly gaining a larger share of the huge Chinese market and rapidly expanding their footprint internationally.
This matters because automobiles remain one of the world's largest manufacturing industries. The global auto market generates trillions of dollars in economic activity and supports millions of jobs. For more than a century, American prosperity has been tied in part to leadership in transportation manufacturing, but that leadership can no longer be taken for granted.
In China, electric vehicles and hybrids already account for more than half of new vehicle sales. Across Europe, adoption continues to rise. In many developing countries, falling battery prices are making electric transportation increasingly affordable. The direction of travel is unmistakable: The global market is shifting toward electrification.
If American automakers fail to compete in that market, they will steadily lose market share abroad. That would not simply reduce profits. It would weaken one of the country's most important industrial sectors and diminish the manufacturing base that has historically supported national defense in times of crisis.
Recent geopolitical events underscore the stakes. The disruptions to Middle East energy infrastructure because of the Iran conflict and the related threats to shipping through the Strait of Hormuz served as a reminder that oil remains vulnerable to geopolitical shocks. Electrification is not a complete solution to energy insecurity, but economies (and militaries) with greater electrification, diversified power sources, and advanced battery industries are better positioned to withstand such disruptions.
China understands this. Beijing does not view batteries, EVs, renewable energy infrastructure, and industrial competitiveness as separate issues. It views them as components of a single strategic package. As energy storage, modularity, and transmission become the key enabling technologies of the global economy, the United States must adopt this same holistic approach.
This does not mean attempting to replicate China's economic model or wantonly abandoning domestic fossil fuel production. It simply requires recognizing that batteries are a strategic industry — and that electric vehicles are the primary mechanism through which that industry achieves scale.
During the 20th century, policymakers understood that leadership in steel, automobiles, aerospace, semiconductors, and telecommunications had national security implications, and thoughtful policymakers sought to build U.S. advantages in these key sectors. The same logic applies today.
The question is no longer whether the future of transportation is electric. Most of the world has already answered that question. The issue before us now is whether the United States intends to build the batteries that will power the next era of economic growth, military capability, and industrial strength or import them from China, with all the vulnerabilities that will entail.