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A counter-proposal for the country’s energy future.

American electricity consumption is growing for the first time in generations. And though low-carbon technologies such as solar and wind have scaled impressively over the past decade, many observers are concerned that all this new demand will provide “a lifeline for more fossil fuel production,” as Senator Martin Heinrich put it.
In response, a few policy entrepreneurs have proposed novel regulations known as “additionality” requirements to handle new sources of electric load. First suggested for electrolytic hydrogen, additionality standards would require that subsidized hydrogen producers source their electricity directly from newly built low-carbon power plants; in a Heatmap piece from September, Brian Deese and Lisa Hansmann proposed similar requirements for new artificial intelligence. And while AI data centers were their focus, the two argued that additionality “is a model that can be extended to address other sectors facing growing energy demand.”
There is some merit to additionality standards, particularly for commercial customers seeking to reduce their emissions profile. But we should be skeptical of writing these requirements into policy. Strict federal additionality regulations will dampen investment in new industries and electrification, reduce the efficiency of the electrical grid through the balkanization of supply and demand, and could become weapons as rotating government officials impose their views on which sources of demand or supply are eligible for the standards. The grid and the nation need a regulatory framework for energy abundance, not burdensome additionality rules.
After decades of end-use efficiency improvements, offshoring of manufacturing, and shifts toward less material-intensive economies, a confluence of emerging factors are pushing electricity demand back up again. For one, the nation is electrifying personal vehicles, home heating, and may do the same for industrial processes like steel production in the not-too-distant future, sparked by a combination of policy and commercial investment. Hydrogen, which has long been a marginal fuel, is attracting substantial interest. And technological innovation is leading to whole new sources of electric load — compute-hungry artificial intelligence being the most immediate example, but also large-scale critical minerals refining, indoor agriculture like alternative protein cultivation and aquaculture, and so on.
In recent years, clean energy has seemed to be on an unstoppable path toward dominating the power sector. Coal-fired generation has been in terminal decline in the United States as natural gas power plants and solar and wind farms have become more competitive. Flexible gas generation, likewise, is increasingly crowded out by renewables when the wind is blowing and the sun shining. These trends persisted in the context of stable electricity load. But even as deployment accelerates, low-carbon electricity supply may not be able to keep up with the surprisingly robust growth in demand. The most obvious — though not the exclusive — way for utilities and large corporates to meet that demand is often with new or existing natural gas capacity. Even a few coal plants have delayed retirement, reportedly in response to rising demand and reliability concerns.
Given the durable competitiveness of coal and especially natural gas, some form of additionality requirement might make sense for hydrogen production in particular, since hydrogen is not just a nascent form of electric load but a novel fuel in its own right. Simply installing an electrolyzer at an existing coal or natural gas plant could produce hydrogen that, from a lifecycle perspective, would result in higher carbon emissions, even if it displaces fossil fuels like gas or oil in final consumption. Even so, many experts caution that overly strict additionality standards for hydrogen at this stage are overkill, and may smother the industry in its crib.
Likewise, large corporate entities and electricity customers adopting additionality requirements for their own operations can bolster investment in so-called “clean firm” generation like nuclear, geothermal, and fossil fuels with carbon capture. In just the past month, Google announced plans to back the construction of new small nuclear reactors, and Microsoft announced plans to purchase electricity for new data centers from the shuttered Three Mile Island power plant, the plant made famous by the 1979 meltdown but which only closed down in 2019. Three Mile Island’s $100-per-megawatt-hour price tag would have been unthinkable just a few years ago but is newly attractive.
Notice the problem Microsoft is trying to solve here: a lack of abundant, reliable electricity generation. Outdated technology licensing, onerous environmental permitting processes, and other regulatory barriers are obstructing the deployment of renewables, advanced nuclear energy, new enhanced geothermal technologies, and low-carbon sources. Additionality fixes none of these issues. Of course, Deese and Hansmann propose “a dedicated fast-track approval process” for verifiably additional low-carbon generation supplying new sources of AI load. Yet this should be the central effort, not the after-the-fact add-on. The back and forth over additionality rules for the clean hydrogen tax credit is a case in point. The rules for the tax credit will (likely) be finalized by January, but lawsuits already loom over them. Expanding this contentious additionality requirement to apply to broad use cases will be even more contentious without solving the actual shortage data center companies care about. Conversations about additionality are a distraction and misplace the energies of policymakers and staff.
Substituting one regulatory thicket for another is a recipe for stasis. Instead of adding more red tape, we should be working to cut through it, fast-tracking the energy transition and fostering abundance.
With such broad requirements, what’s to stop future administrations from expanding them to cover electric vehicle charging, electric arc furnace steelmaking, alternative protein production, or any politically disfavored source of new demand? Could a second Trump Administration use additionality to punish political enemies in the tech industry? Could a Harris Administration do the same? What if a future administration maintained additionality standards for new sources of load, but required that the electricity come from fossil fuels instead of low-carbon sources?
Zero-sum regulatory contracts between sources of electricity supply and demand are not simply at risk of becoming a tool for handing out favors on a partisan basis — they already are one. Two pieces of model legislation proposed at the July meeting of the American Legislative Exchange Council, an organization of conservative state legislators that collaborate to write off-the-shelf legislative measures, would require public utility commissions to prioritize dispatchable generation and formally discourage intermittent renewable sources like solar and wind. One of the proposals suggests leaning on state attorneys general to extend the lifespans of coal plants threatened with retirement.
These proposals did not move forward this year, but it is unlikely that the motivating force behind them is exhausted. And whatever one thinks of the relative merits of intermittent versus firm generation, ALEC’s proposals demonstrate just how easily gamed regulations like additionality could be and the risks of relying on administrative discretion instead of universal, pragmatic rules.
This is not how the electric grid is supposed to work. The grid is, if not an according-to-Hoyle public good, a shared public resource, providing essential services to customers large and small. Homeowners don’t have to sign additionality contracts with suppliers when they buy an electric car or replace their gas furnace with an electric heat pump. Everyone understands that such requirements would slow the pace of electrification and investment in new industries. The same holds for corporate customers and novel sources of load.
The real problem facing the AI, hydrogen, nuclear, geothermal, and renewables industries is an inability to build. There are more than enough clean generators queueing to enter the system — 2.6 terawatts at last count, according to the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory. The unfortunate reality, however, is that just one in five of these projects will make it through — and those represent just 14% of the capacity waiting to connect. Still, this totals about 360 gigawatts of new energy generation over the next few years, much more than the predicted demand from AI data centers. Obstacles to technology licensing, permitting, interconnection, and transmission are the key bottlenecks here.
Would foregoing additionality requirements and loosening regulatory strictures on technology licensing and permitting increase the commercial viability of new or existing fossil fuel capacity, as Deese and Hansmann warn? Perhaps, on some margin. But for the foreseeable future, the energy projects and infrastructure most burdened by regulatory requirements will be low-carbon ones. Batteries, solar, and wind projects make up more than 80% of the queue added in 2023. Meanwhile, oil and gas benefit from categorical exclusions under the National Environmental Policy Act, while low-carbon technologies are subject to stricter standards (although three permitting bills recently passed the House, including one that waives these requirements for new geothermal projects).
Consider that 40% of projects supported by the Inflation Reduction Act are caught up in delays. That is $84 billion of economic activity just waiting for the paperwork to be figured out, according to the Financial Times. Additionality requirements are additional boxes to check that almost necessarily imply additional delays. Permitting reform makes them redundant and unnecessary for a cleaner future.
This underscores perhaps the most essential conflict between strict additionality requirements and clean energy abundance. Ensuring that every new policy and every new source of demand allows for absolutely zero additional fossil fuel consumption or emissions will prove counterproductive to global decarbonization in the long run. Natural gas is still reducing emissions on the margin in the United States. Over the past decade, in years with higher natural gas prices, coal generation has ticked up, indicating that the so-called “natural gas bridge” has not yet reached its terminus. Even aggressive decarbonization scenarios now expect a substantial role for natural gas over the coming decades. And in the long term, natural gas plants may prove wholly compatible with abundant, low-carbon electricity systems if next-generation carbon capture technologies prove scalable.
The United States is the world’s energy technology R&D and demonstration laboratory. If policies to prune marginal fossil fuel consumption here stall domestic investment and scaling of low-carbon technologies — as current permitting regulations already do, and proposed additionality requirements would do — then we will not only slow U.S. decarbonization, but also inhibit our ability to export affordable and scalable low-carbon technologies abroad.
Environmental progress’s surest path is in speeding up. For that to happen, we need processes that allow for rapid deployment of clean energy solutions. Expediting technology licensing, fast-tracking federal infrastructure permitting, and finding opportunities for quicker and more rational interconnections should be first and foremost.
The real solution lies in building a regulatory environment where energy abundance can flourish. Clearing the path for clean energy development, we can achieve a future where energy is affordable, reliable, and abundant—a future where the United States leads in both decarbonization and economic growth. It’s time to stop adding barriers and start speeding up progress.
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The two economic booms resemble each other somewhat. But data centers have a far more dire PR problem.
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.
In Pennsylvania, the governor required data center developers to comply with new restrictions. Texas began its mandatory audit for grid-connected data centers. And Nebraska limited tax incentives for data centers and started a new task force.
In Wisconsin’s governor race, candidates began posturing over who will treat data centers the toughest; in Michigan’s Senate race, the GOP candidate Mike Rogers called for a statewide moratorium on them. A Politico analysis found that of the more than 100 campaign ads mentioning data centers this election, none have put the technology in a positive light.
It makes sense, then, that when Heatmap published its most recent polling on data centers — finding that 75% of Americans oppose their local development — it seemed to blow up. But there’s one aspect of that polling that I want to discuss here, because I think it has been underacknowledged.
It’s this: According to our polling, data centers are about as unpopular in urban areas as rural areas. They’re slightly less unpopular in the suburbs.
The differences in disapproval, to be clear, aren’t enormous. Local data center development is 63 points underwater in rural areas and 60 points underwater in urban areas. That’s close enough to our poll’s 2.3% margin of error that it may just be noise. Even in the suburbs, data center development is 58 points underwater — a small distinction.
But it represents a big shift from the political geography of recent decades, where cities and rural areas have tended to disagree profoundly over policy. Since the 2000 election or so, cities have elected Democrats, rural areas have picked Republicans, and then the parties have fought over the suburbs.
Data centers, however, appear to unite these two partisan bases against some of the country’s largest companies — and some of our political systems’ odder ducks. Heatmap’s polling earlier this year found that AI YIMBYs tend to be urban, largely Trump-voting men who are optimistic about technology. And in March, the Republican pollster Echelon Insights found that some of data centers’ biggest fans were MAGA Republicans with graduate degrees living in cities.
These results help explain why Republicans have suddenly turned on a dime against data centers: Their base has rejected it. As a political reporter friend put it to me, after looking at our data, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a trend that’s uniting college-educated and non-college-educated Americans.
In trying to understand this transition, I’ve tried to think about other technologies that have undergone similar investment booms in recent American history. One oft-made comparison is fracking, which expanded quickly across the country in the 2010s. Many commentators — myself included — have suggested that data centers may follow fracking’s example, where blue states ban a new type of economic activity and red states welcome it. The red (and sometimes purple) states then get to reap much of the resulting economic growth — and the tax receipts — while everyone has to deal with the emissions. The revelation that data centers are driving a new natural gas boom only deepens the link.
But there’s one big problem with that analogy: Fracking was never this unpopular. While fracking has rarely commanded a large majority of support among the mass public, its popular nadir came in spring 2020, when 60% of Americans told Pew that they opposed an expansion of fracking. (Its popularity began to recover after President Biden took office — a classic case of thermostatic public opinion.)
In every poll that we could find at Heatmap, too, expanding fracking always commanded a majority of Republican support. Throughout the 2010s and 2020s, rank-and-file Republicans have wanted to “drill, baby, drill.” But they don’t seem to want to “compute, baby, compute.” And that means — among other things — energy and climate analysts like me need to find another analogy.
Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”