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Lawmakers today should study the Energy Security Act of 1980.

The past few years have seen wild, rapid swings in energy policy in the United States, from President Biden’s enthusiastic embrace of clean energy to President Trump’s equally enthusiastic re-embrace of fossil fuels.
Where energy industrial policy goes next is less certain than any other moment in recent memory. Regardless of the direction, however, we will need creative and effective policy tools to secure our energy future — especially for those of us who wish to see a cleaner, greener energy system. To meet the moment, we can draw inspiration from a largely forgotten piece of energy industrial policy history: the Energy Security Act of 1980.
After a decade of oil shocks and energy crises spanning three presidencies, President Carter called for — and Congress passed — a new law that would “mobilize American determination and ability to win the energy war.” To meet that challenge, lawmakers declared their intent “to utilize to the fullest extent the constitutional powers of the Congress” to reduce the nation’s dependence on imported oil and shield the economy from future supply shocks. Forty-five years later, that brief moment of determined national mobilization may hold valuable lessons for the next stage of our energy industrial policy.
The 1970s were a decade of energy volatility for Americans, with spiking prices and gasoline shortages, as Middle Eastern fossil fuel-producing countries wielded the “oil weapon” to throttle supply. In his 1979 “Crisis of Confidence” address to the nation, Carter warned that America faced a “clear and present danger” from its reliance on foreign oil and urged domestic producers to mobilize new energy sources, akin to the way industry responded to World War II by building up a domestic synthetic rubber industry.
To develop energy alternatives, Congress passed the Energy Security Act, which created a new government-run corporation dedicated to investing in alternative fuels projects, a solar bank, and programs to promote geothermal, biomass, and renewable energy sources. The law also authorized the president to create a system of five-year national energy targets and ordered one of the federal government’s first studies on the impacts of greenhouse gases from fossil fuels.
Carter saw the ESA as the beginning of an historic national mission. “[T]he Energy Security Act will launch this decade with the greatest outpouring of capital investment, technology, manpower, and resources since the space program,” he said at the signing. “Its scope, in fact, is so great that it will dwarf the combined efforts expended to put Americans on the Moon and to build the entire Interstate Highway System of our country.” The ESA was a recognition that, in a moment of crisis, the federal government could revive the tools it once used in wartime to meet an urgent civilian challenge.
In its pursuit of energy security, the Act deployed several remarkable industrial policy tools, with the Synthetic Fuels Corporation as the centerpiece. The corporation was a government-run investment bank chartered to finance — and in some cases, directly undertake — alternative fuels projects, including those derived from coal, shale, and oil.. Regardless of the desirability or feasibility of synthetic fuels, the SFC as an institution illustrates the type of extraordinary authority Congress was once willing to deploy to address energy security and stand up an entirely new industry. It operated outside of federal agencies, unencumbered by the normal bureaucracy and restrictions that apply to government.
Along with everything else created by the ESA, the Sustainable Fuels Corporation was also financed by a windfall profits tax assessed on oil companies, essentially redistributing income from big oil toward its nascent competition. Both the law and the corporation had huge bipartisan support, to the tune of 317 votes for the ESA in the House compared to 93 against, and 78 to 12 in the Senate.
The Synthetic Fuels Corporation was meant to be a public catalyst where private investment was unlikely to materialize on its own. Investors feared that oil prices could fall, or that OPEC might deliberately flood the market to undercut synthetic fuels before they ever reached scale. Synthetic fuel projects were also technically complex, capital-intensive undertakings, with each plant costing several billion dollars, requiring up to a decade to plan and build.
To address this, Congress equipped the corporation with an unusually broad set of tools. The corporation could offer loans, loan guarantees, price guarantees, purchase agreements, and even enter joint ventures — forms of support meant to make first-of-a-kind projects bankable. It could assemble financing packages that traditional lenders viewed as too risky. And while the corporation was being stood up, the president was temporarily authorized to use Defense Production Act powers to initiate early synthetic fuel projects. Taken together, these authorities amounted to a federal attempt to build an entirely new energy industry.
While the ESA gave the private sector the first shot at creating a synthetic fuels industry, it also created opportunities for the federal government to invest. The law authorized the Synthetic Fuels Corporation to undertake and retain ownership over synthetic fuels construction projects if private investment was insufficient to meet production targets. The SFC was also allowed to impose conditions on loans and financial assistance to private developers that gave it a share of project profits and intellectual property rights arising out of federally-funded projects. Congress was not willing to let the national imperative of energy security rise or fall on the whims of the market, nor to let the private sector reap publicly-funded windfalls.
Employing logic that will be familiar to many today, Carter was particularly concerned that alternative fuel sources would be unduly delayed by permitting rules and proposed an Energy Mobilization Board to streamline the review process for energy projects. Congress ultimately refused to create it, worried it would trample state authority and environmental protections. But the impulse survived elsewhere. At a time when the National Environmental Policy Act was barely 10 years old and had become the central mechanism for scrutinizing major federal actions, Congress provided an exemption for all projects financed by the Synthetic Fuels Corporation, although other technologies supported in the law — like geothermal energy — were still required to go through NEPA review. The contrast is revealing — a reminder that when lawmakers see an energy technology as strategically essential, they have been willing not only to fund it but also to redesign the permitting system around it.
Another forgotten feature of the corporation is how far Congress went to ensure it could actually hire top tier talent. Lawmakers concluded that the federal government’s standard pay scales were too low and too rigid for the kind of financial, engineering, and project development expertise the Synthetic Fuels Corporation needed. So it gave the corporation unusual salary flexibility, allowing it to pay above normal civil service rates to attract people with the skills to evaluate multibillion dollar industrial projects. In today’s debates about whether federal agencies have the capacity to manage complex clean energy investments, this detail is striking. Congress once knew that ambitious industrial policy requires not just money, but people who understand how deals get done.
But the Energy Security Act never had the chance to mature. The corporation was still getting off the ground when Carter lost the 1980 election to Ronald Reagan. Reagan’s advisers viewed the project as a distortion of free enterprise — precisely the kind of government intervention they believed had fueled the broader malaise of the 1970s. While Reagan had campaigned on abolishing the Department of Energy, the corporation proved an easier and more symbolic target. His administration hollowed it out, leaving it an empty shell until Congress defunded it entirely in 1986.
At the same time, the crisis atmosphere that had justified the Energy Security Act began to wane. Oil prices fell nearly 60% during Reagan’s first five years, and with them the political urgency behind alternative fuels. Drained of its economic rationale, the synthetic fuels industry collapsed before it ever had a chance to prove whether it could succeed under more favorable conditions. What had looked like a wartime mobilization suddenly appeared to many lawmakers to be an expensive overreaction to a crisis that had passed.
Yet the ESA’s legacy is more than an artifact of a bygone moment. It offers at least three lessons that remain strikingly relevant today:
As we now scramble to make up for lost time, today’s clean energy push requires institutions that can survive electoral swings. Nearly half a century after the ESA, we must find our way back to that type of institutional imagination to meet the energy challenges we still face.
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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.”