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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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Current conditions: Tropical Depression Two is set to strengthen into Tropical Storm Bertha as the system widens over the Gulf Coast from Texas to Tampa Bay, Florida • Temperatures will top 112 degrees Fahrenheit in Khartoum, the capital of war-ravaged Sudan • Canadian wildfire smoke may have largely cleared in the Northeastern United States, but nearly 900 blazes are still burning, and Chicago is still under an air quality warning.

Andy Burnham, the new leader of the British Labour Party and the likely next prime minister of the United Kingdom, has vowed to uphold a contentious ban on exploration licenses for oil and gas drilling in the North Sea. While deputy party leader Lucy Powell told the BBC on Sunday that fossil fuels from the North Sea would remain part of Britain's energy mix, the so-called “king of the north,” who previously led the industrial metropolis of Manchester as its mayor, has instead stuck by the party’s original plan. “If they don’t reverse the ban on new exploration then the industry will be very unhappy indeed,” one industry source told the Financial Times. The decision comes after rumors had swirled that Burnham may support increasing domestic fossil fuel production in a bid to bring down energy prices. In a post on his Truth Social network, Trump wrote: “The People of Aberdeen, in Scotland, are dancing in the streets because the new Prime Minister, Andy Burnham, has stated that he will be opening up, all the way, the invaluable North Sea Oil!”
Scotland is, on the other hand, getting more of Trump’s least favorite energy source. The American president’s antipathy toward offshore turbines, so goes the lore, began with an unsuccessful bid to block a project he considered unsightly off the coast of his golf course there. Last week, Renewables Now reported that offshore wind developer Ocean Winds secured the Scottish government’s approval for a 2-gigawatt offshore wind farm called Caledonia, the name Romans gave the area of Britain that ultimately became Scotland and its frontier with England. Located 25 miles off Moray Firth, the project is poised to begin construction in 2030.
In the U.S., the Trump administration has limited plans for carbon removal facilities. In Canada, as Emily has written, Prime Minister Mark Carney has opened the door to direct air capture companies looking for a new home base. But in the European Union, Brussels is already weaving carbon removal into the bloc's carbon-trading market. The EU’s highest governing body, the European Commission, proposed allowing carbon removal into its EU Emissions Trading System for the first time. “Under the current rules, companies cannot use carbon credits of any kind to comply with the regulations,” Emily wrote last week in a piece previewing the proposal. “But as 2040 grows closer, the EU plans to rely on carbon removal to offset some of the residual emissions from industries that are the most difficult to decarbonize.” For now, the scheme will be limited to direct air capture and bioenergy with carbon capture and sequestration.
Last month, New York Attorney General Letitia James headed a group of Democratic-led states in a lawsuit challenging the Trump administration’s deals to kill offshore wind projects, as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo has written. Now many of those same blue states are seeking to join private developers’ litigation seeking to thaw President Donald Trump’s freeze on approving wind projects. Last week, the states filed a motion to intervene on behalf of wind companies that accuse the administration of unfairly targeting their businesses. The states argue, according to Bloomberg Law, that the halt to federal permitting “pushes up electricity costs” and “hurts their attempts to curb fossil fuel emissions.”
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Claude-maker Anthropic is set to lease computing power for its artificial intelligence data centers from Meta, making what The New York Times described as “a potential step toward a new AI for the social networking company.” Under the deal, Anthropic would pay the Facebook parent company $10 billion over two years, in monthly increments. The agreement is roughly a third the size of the deal that the AI giant signed with Elon Musk’s xAI in May for $45 billion of computing power over three years. That deal has drawn blowback given the vast arrays of gas turbines that power xAI’s biggest data center, Colossus, which is the subject of an air pollution lawsuit filed by the NAACP. As for Meta, insiders Heatmap talked to at the end of last year put it in the bottom of hyperscalers based on its decarbonization efforts. One social scientist told us, “Google is the best, Meta is the worst. Evil corporation.”
Russia’s state-owned nuclear company has at least 18 new nuclear projects underway at home, Rosatom announced. The Kremlin-owned company said the projects are in “various stages of implementation” throughout Russia, and don’t count the more than two dozen under construction overseas in places such as Bangladesh, India, and Turkey. In a speech published in the company’s in-house magazine and shared with World Nuclear News, Rosatom Director General Alexei Likhachev said the firm aims to increase revenues to $51.3 billion by 2028 — a nearly 18% increase from this year. Improving profits, however, means reducing costs by 5% that same year.
Meanwhile, the Kremlin’s nuclear regulator, Rostekhnadzor, has issued licenses for the first two proposed units of the new Kola nuclear station in northwest Russia, near Finland. The plant is expected to begin construction next year, NucNet reported, and ultimately include four VVER-S medium-capacity pressurized water reactors.
Tesla has a fierce new competitor in the European market. The Chinese automaker Xpeng just released its compact L03 crossover. The starting price in the German market, $40,700, undercuts the Tesla Model Y’s $44,480. The vehicle, per InsideEVs, is the first Chinese car to be fully integrated with Google Maps.
We didn’t know days like this could happen. Then we learned how bad they really are.
When I woke up this morning in Chicago, the Air Quality Index was in the 300s, and I could barely see the top of the skyscraper across the street. The weather app on my phone featured a little image of a man wearing a World War I-style full-face gas mask. That’s fun, I thought. I didn’t know it could do that.
I went downstairs. Old photographs of the city were hanging in the hotel lobby — girls playing in bathing suits next to the lake — and I realized that the haze shrouding the old Lakeshore Drive condos was in fact haze, smoke, particulate matter, and not a lens artifact. It really used to be that smoky all the time, back before the Clean Air Act. Then I glanced up and saw that the haze out the window was far worse than the century-old pollution in the picture.
It’s significant, I think, that a mass smoke-out like this has now happened to the eastern U.S. for a second time. Second times matter. When exhaust from Canadian wildfires blanketed the Northeast and parts of the Midwest in June 2023, exposing more Americans to wildfire smoke than on any previous day in history, one could almost write it off as a freak occurrence. It was upsetting, sure, and reminiscent of California’s climate-addled amber skies. But didn’t wildfire smoke also descend on New England once in the 1780s? Even on a warmer planet, couldn’t this remain a once-in-a-century blip?
Twice in just over three years, though — that‘s more than a hiccup. That’s almost a trend. To get smoked out once may be regarded as a misfortune; for it to recur again, without any plan to respond, starts to look like carelessness. The federal government is doing roughly diddly squat about adaptation — President Trump can build a fan on the border and make Canada pay for it — but state and local governments across the eastern U.S. will now need to reckon with a new form of extreme weather. You grew up with snow days, but now we’ll have smoke days — and schools and sports leagues and concert venues will need rules about how to deal with them. When should games be canceled, tickets refunded? Is smoke more like a heat wave or a hurricane? Hotels and office buildings will need to review their ventilation policies and possibly upgrade their equipment; municipal emergency response plans will be revised and printed in triplicate.
All this will happen because the smoke has invaded a second time — and arguably a third, if you count last year’s minor episode — and that means it could come back again. For that reason, this event strikes me as a much bigger deal than what happened in 2023. The smoke is now a fact of life; institutions will need a policy about it. The tortious creep of litigation risk will enforce that outcome, even if no federal official enforces it.
So it goes. But to be clear, this new inconvenience is not what worries me most about today’s events. No, what frightens me instead is that today’s airborne toxic event is not something that was supposed to happen. Until a few years ago, we had not thought too hard about whether a major smoke exposure event like this could happen on the East Coast at all. It had not seemed possible.
For years, economists and climate scientists have simulated how global warming might affect the U.S. and global economies. They poured years of careful work into this modeling, and they simulated — with ever-increasing levels of statistical persnicketiness — what extreme heat and sea-level rise might do to agricultural yield, labor productivity, energy demand, heat mortality, and real estate values, among other potential sources of damage. This work was useful; it improved our practical understanding of coastal flooding, to name one example. It also helped calibrate U.S. regulatory policy, even if it never achieved the crowning heights of helping to set a national carbon tax.
Yet these careful models almost never accounted for mass smoke exposure days. Indeed, the kind of thing that happened this week — when heavy haze blows down from Canada and exposes more than 100 million people to hazardous air — was not countenanced by the simulations at all. Only in recent years did economists begin to study events like these, and only because mass exposure events like 2023’s happened first.
We’ve long known that the tiny shreds of particulate matter in wildfire smoke dance across the body’s barriers and penetrate its deep places, etching their way into lung, heart, and brain tissue. Inflammation follows. What makes days like today unique is the scale: Tens of millions of Americans inhaling wildfire smoke at the same time. As we’ve started studying this phenomenon, it’s become clear that the mortality effects of days like today, the deaths elevated above what you’d otherwise expect, can persist for years. That becomes extraordinarily expensive for society.
How costly? “When monetized,” a group of Stanford and Princeton economists wrote in Nature last year, in the first major study on the topic, “the climate-driven smoke deaths result in economic damages that exceed existing estimates of climate-driven damages from all other causes combined in the U.S.A.”
You read that right: The cost of climate-worsened wildfire smoke alone is larger than what earlier studies said every other estimated cost of climate change would be, combined.
To summarize, wildfire smoke did not appear in our economic simulations of climate change. As recently as a few years ago, we did not really know that days like today — or June 7, 2023; or September 15, 2020; or September 9, 2020 — could occur. Then they happened. And happened again. And then we studied them and discovered that, in fact, they may be more expensive for the U.S. economy than we once thought climate change itself would be.
That worries me. Now we know these smoke-out days can happen; now they are fast becoming a rare but predictable feature of summer life. But until recently they were unimaginable. What other ignominies, what other tail risks and airborne surprises, are lurking in the uncontrolled experiment we’re running on the biosphere? What else — unforecast, unmodeled, unstudied, unthought of — lies ahead? After 10 years of covering the climate system, I am not someone who lies sleepless fretting about atmospheric CO2. But I do wonder what else we don’t know enough about to ask.
“Microsoft, you can’t hide, we can see your dirty side!”
Protestors interrupted one of the final sessions of PNW Climate Week — a conference that brings together climate leaders across Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia — objecting to Microsoft’s rising carbon emissions from data centers and partnerships with oil and gas companies. The company’s Chief Sustainability Officer Melanie Nakagawa was having a one on one conversation with GeekWire climate reporter Lisa Stiffler at Seattle’s City Hall when protestors carrying signs reading “Microsoft’s AI pollutes” and other slogans began shouting from the audience.
I was there, having just moderated the prior panel on how to finance Washington’s clean energy ambitions. Early on there were some rumblings in the crowd from up front. “Climate leaders don’t build gas pipelines in Moses Lake,” was the first objection I heard clearly. It came shortly after Nakagawa kicked off the conversation by highlighting Microsoft’s partnership with sustainable aviation fuel startup Twelve, which recently opened its first commercial-scale SAF plant in Moses Lake, Washington. The tech giant has supported the project through a strategic investment from its Climate Innovation Fund, as well as an offtake agreement for the fuel that will help offset its emissions from employee travel.
Whether Microsoft is building a gas pipeline in this particular community I haven’t been able to determine, though it seems irrelevant to Twelve’s SAF facility, which doesn’t rely on natural gas. But it is true that Microsoft is one of the largest power consumers in Grant County, Washington, home to Moses Lake, where a natural gas pipeline operator is looking to expand its network to accommodate data center load growth.
Another audience interruption was more pointed. “How does signing a 20-year deal with Chevron help you reach your clean energy goals?,” one protestor asked, referring to Microsoft's recently announced power purchase agreement with Chevron for nearly 2.7 gigawatts of natural gas-fired power to supply a West Texas data center. The project represents one of the largest gas-powered artificial intelligence developments in the U.S., and Stiffler acknowledged that she had been planning to ask about it, herself.
Nakagawa answered the question. at least in part, saying “that project with Chevron is initially using natural gas and it’s a natural gas contract,” before emphasizing that the company has built “over 4.5 gigawatts of clean energy already today,” and remains committed to balancing speed-to-power with its clean energy goals. She added that, “with this deal in particular, we’re looking at a range of tools in our toolbox to ensure that we can continue to grow our power, but also do so in a way that is responsible and sustainable.” She stopped short, however, of making any commitments to transitioning the project to renewable energy over time.
The session became more chaotic from there. Another protestor stood up, shouting that “Microsoft is enabling genocide in Palestine.” Other activists joined in, while still other audience members shouted back. As Nakagawa recovered and resumed answering a question from Stiffler about Microsoft’s recent decision to pause its carbon removal purchases after years of dominating the nascent industry, protestors throughout the crowd began a chant of “Microsoft, you can’t hide, we can see your dirty side.” Security eventually shepherded many of them out.
Stiffler continued speaking with Nakawaga about the company’s clean energy efforts, touching on many of the protestors’ concerns as she asked about community opposition to data centers, the role of large corporations in the clean energy transition, and whether Microsoft can realistically achieve its goal of becoming carbon negative by 2030.
Nakawaga emphasized that the company must, “first and foremost, listen to where the communities are and what they are calling for.” Regarding the concerns she hears most often, she explained that “first has been transparency. Second has been around resource uses and what are we doing about those resource uses. We’re hearing about jobs and employment and investments in education, investments in housing.”
If this session was any indication, those concerns won’t go away anytime soon.