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One of the world’s leading climate scientists agrees with Gates in spirit, but thinks we can go much further in practice.

There are a lot of things I agree with in Bill Gates’ new memo on climate change. The recent cutbacks on international spending on vaccination, malaria control, feeding the hungry, and poverty alleviation by many of the world’s richest countries (driven in part by a desire for more military spending) are a catastrophe that will cost thousands, if not millions of lives. Adaptation is a critically important part of addressing climate change, and a world with more prosperity and less inequality is one where we can better deal with the impacts of climate change — at least up to a point.
But in other areas I feel that it needlessly sets up a conflict between laudable goals. We can both mitigate emissions and alleviate poverty, disease, and hunger. While there are some tradeoffs, it is more a question of policy priority than a zero-sum game. Similarly, I feel that Gates is a bit too cavalier in his treatment of climate risk.
Given the strong reactions to Gates’ memo on both the left and the right, I thought it would be helpful to provide a more measured reaction and critique, and give some thoughts on how to move forward to — as Gates suggests — have the most positive impact on the world.
Bill Gates — through his philanthropic work with the Gates Foundation — has done more than almost anyone else on the planet to meaningfully improve the lives of the world’s poorest. The Gates Foundation was the founding funder of Gavi, which helped expand vaccination in the global south and drive down prices. They did key work to help eradicate polio and combat HIV, tuberculosis, and malaria, as well as deliver sanitation and clean drinking water, and worked to raise smallholder farmer yields and income through access to agricultural technology.
The recent gutting of the United States Agency for International Development — and smaller reductions in aid spending by other countries — is a humanitarian catastrophe and threatens to undo much of the work that the Gates Foundation supported over the past few decades. I can see why, in light of these urgent needs, he is suggesting that resources to combat climate change be repurposed toward dealing with poverty, hunger, and disease.
But this assumes that funding for climate and development cancel each other out. Here I think that Gates errs in his analysis for a few reasons.
First, the vast majority of spending on climate mitigation worldwide is not in low-income countries, and there is little reason to assume that cutting it would free up resources for development aid. The world spent more than $2 trillion on clean energy technologies (albeit somewhat expansively defined) in 2024, but the overwhelming majority of this was spent by middle- and high-income countries (e.g. China, the U.S., the EU, the UK, India, Japan) to build domestic clean energy, build transmission, buy electric vehicles, electrify heating, etc.
The idea that spending less on domestic mitigation would create more budget space for international development is fundamentally misguided. It’s hard to imagine that the Trump administration will revitalize development spending based on savings from cutting domestic green energy subsidies. Both development aid and climate mitigation spending represent relatively small shares of GDP in higher income countries, and there is space for policy to be able to prioritize spending on both without trading them off against each other. It is much more likely that any reduction in mitigation spending will be repurposed for other domestic priorities — leaving the poorest and most vulnerable parts of the world even worse off.
Second, there are a number of ways that technologies can accomplish goals of climate mitigation and development simultaneously: solar and storage for electrification of more remote areas, clean cookstoves to reduce deforestation, and technologies to reduce both outdoor and indoor air pollution that kills millions per year globally are just a few examples.
That being said, we should take a hard look at international spending priorities for programs in the poorest countries, which, in turn, are the least responsible for global emissions today. Here adaptation should be strongly prioritized, and restrictions around finance for some fossil fuels (e.g. natural gas development in Sub-Saharan Africa) that could help support greater clean energy deployment should be reconsidered. We should generally spend more than we are today on adaptation and development (though the two are strongly related), and mitigation should be less of a priority in low-income countries.
Richer countries should be the ones taking the lead on emissions reductions — and paying a premium that will help drive down the costs of clean energy technologies so that they can be adopted cost effectively by lower income countries. Indeed, that’s largely been the story of our successes here to date, with countries like China, India, and Brazil adopting ambitious net-zero goals in part because they see the cost of meeting them as modest and not trading off against their development priorities.
Third, the idea that we should “spend less” on climate adaptation is a dangerous misunderstanding of the problem. There is no world where we don’t spend money dealing with climate impacts. Rather, our choice is between spending money now, e.g. to build a seawall, or spend money later to rebuild the city after it floods. Our choice here should be guided by the fact that adaptation in advance is cheaper than adaptation after the disaster. In other words, spending money today on adaptation is the cheaper option that will better promote health and welfare of the world’s poorest citizens.
In his memo, Gates highlights the progress we’ve made on climate change to-date, noting that:
Ten years ago, the International Energy Agency predicted that by 2040, the world would be emitting 50 billion tons of carbon dioxide every year. Now, just a decade later, the IEA’s forecast has dropped to 30 billion, and it’s projecting that 2050 emissions will be even lower.
Read that again: In the past 10 years, we’ve cut projected emissions by more than 40%.
This progress is not part of the prevailing view of climate change, but it should be. What made it possible is that the Green Premium—the cost difference between clean and dirty ways of doing something—reached zero or became negative for solar, wind, power storage, and electric vehicles. By and large, they are just as cheap as, or even cheaper than, their fossil fuel counterparts.
Gates is right that cheap clean energy represents a remarkable success story, and is one of the reasons why projections of future warming have fallen from around 3.5 degrees Celsius a decade ago to around 2.7 degrees today.
But focusing on these precise temperature outcomes in 2100 is problematically reductionist. Our emissions are just one of three factors that will determine the future warming of the planet. (And we should remember that current policies represent neither a ceiling nor a floor on current emissions, particularly at a time when some governments are actively rolling them back.)
Even if we knew future emissions precisely, the warming in 2100 remains highly uncertain. It depends both on the sensitivity of the climate to our increased atmospheric greenhouse gas concentrations — the response of various climate feedbacks like clouds and surface reflectivity — and how the carbon cycle responds to both our emissions and the changing climate.
Due to the combination of these uncertainties, it’s possible that we could think we are heading for 2.7 degrees of warming and stop at 3.7 degrees (or even 4+ degrees) even if we roll 6s on the proverbial climate dice. And we won’t know precisely how sensitive the climate is (despite some recent progress) until it’s too late to avoid where we’ll end up.
This means that we should think of mitigation less as targeting (or avoiding) a particular outcome and more as hedging against risk. We should do more mitigation — all things considered — than if we had certainty in the climate response because of the high damages associated with less likely but still quite possible tail risks. Or as the late climate economist Marty Weitzman memorably put it, when it comes to climate change “the sting is in the tail.”
Gates is right to note that climate change “will not lead to humanity’s demise,” but I’d suggest that this represents a bit of a straw man. Outside a fringe community of climate doomers, there are few who think that climate change could realistically threaten the extinction of the human race (though some folks need to be a bit cautious about throwing around the term “existential threat” willy nilly). As the climate scientist Steven Schneider was fond of saying, for climate change, “the end of the world and good for you are the two lowest probability outcomes”.
But not being an existential threat does not tell us all that much, as almost nothing aside from a planet-killing asteroid or (possibly) an all-out global thermonuclear war rises to that highest of bars. Every other problem humanity deals with — war, violence, famine, poverty — is not existential but is still critically important. This is more or less Gates’ point, that climate should be treated as one of many problems we need to solve rather than an all-encompassing ur-problem. But by and large, the majority of people and policymakers have been treating it as just that.
Gates posits that society can best address climate change by working to reduce the green premium associated with clean energy technologies.
The idea of the green premium is compelling. As noted earlier, a lot of the progress that society has made on reducing emissions over the past 15 years has come on the back of near-miraculously rapid declines in the cost of clean energy technologies. Cheaper clean energy in turn enables more ambitious policy adoption, as the costs of getting to net-zero emissions turn from astronomical to manageable.
But I’d suggest that it is somewhat incomplete, at least in its more straightforward interpretation. There is an idea that innovation and markets alone will necessarily solve the problem in the absence of policy interventions — that if we can just make clean energy cheap enough, the world will sufficiently decarbonize to avoid potentially catastrophic impacts from climate change.
This may be the case, but it also may not. Innovation cuts both ways — the success of hydraulic fracturing and horizontal drilling technology has drastically reduced the cost of natural gas and oil production. There are lots of resources going into producing fossil fuels more cheaply, and while I’m hopeful that the cost of solar, batteries, wind, nuclear, geothermal, and other clean energy technologies will fall faster, there is no law of physics that says it will inevitably be cheaper.
Hoping that clean energy will be absolutely cheaper than fossil fuels at a scale needed to decarbonize our energy system is a gamble — and one with loaded dice. There are real costs associated with fossil fuel use — from air pollution, from climate change, from local environmental damage. These are currently borne by the public and not by the companies producing fossil fuels. As long as the costs remain socialized while the benefits are privatized, the market alone will not lead to the optimal level of deployment of clean energy technologies.
This is where policy comes in: We either need to include the “brown costs” of fossil fuels in their market price (e.g. a carbon tax, something that has been not very politically palatable to date) or be willing to pay some ongoing green premium in cases where clean energy remains more expensive to account for the real costs of climate and pollution.
Policy also plays a key role in technology. The rapid and amazing drop in the price of solar energy over the last few decades has been driven to a large extent by government support of the technology. The free market may have done this by itself, but it would have likely taken many decades longer.
I don’t think Gates would necessarily disagree with any of this, but it’s an important rejoinder for those who assume that innovation alone is sufficient to address the problem.
The reception of the Gates memo was an unfortunate reflection of our extremely polarized politics. Some climate advocates dismissed it as denialism or the second coming of Bjorn Lomborg, while those on the right (including President Trump) portrayed it as proof that the science was wrong and climate change was actually a hoax.
Gates tried at length and upfront to make his position clear that climate change is a big problem, and that his interest is on near-term prioritization of resources. But most interpreted the memo through their ideological priors (many likely without actually reading it).
To be clear: Climate change is a very important problem. It needs to be solved, along with other problems like malaria and malnutrition. Every tenth of a degree of heating that we prevent is hugely beneficial because a stable climate makes it easier to improve people’s lives.
Our inability to have nuanced discussions about these matters is detrimental to the broader societal discussion about serious issues like climate change. The portrayal of climate as an all or nothing problem, coupled with the U.S.’s thermostatic politics where control of government commonly switches between parties, is a recipe for a lack of clear long term action on climate or any other big societal problem that gets caught up in the politicized culture wars. While I don’t know how to change society to make science less politicized and to center the debate around the best solutions rather than the physical reality of the problem, a change is sorely needed.
Ultimately Gates’ memo is making the case that we need to set a higher priority on helping the world’s most vulnerable in a time when aid to them is being cut. I broadly agree. But deprioritizing mitigation spending is not a very effective way to accomplish that goal, outside of the relatively modest amount of money the world spends today on mitigation in the least developed countries.
When there is an option to spend money already going to these countries in a way that provides the greatest benefits for the population even if it does not reduce (or even increases) emissions, we should probably do it. But the vast majority of the resources we spend on decarbonization today in middle and upper income countries will not magically be repurposed for international development aid if we deprioritize climate change as an issue. And deprioritizing climate change as an issue risks substituting near-term benefits for long-term harms that are nearly impossible to reverse.
A world of unabated climate change will impact the poor most severely. Addressing it requires two strategies in tandem: prioritizing development and poverty alleviation to build adaptive capacity (and human flourishing), and reducing emissions rapidly in middle and upper-income countries to mitigate future climate impacts and drive down the cost of clean energy technologies so they can be more readily adopted by low income countries. Perhaps I’m unduly optimistic, but I think that society should be able to do both.
Editor’s note: A version of this article originally appeared in the author’s newsletter, The Climate Brink, and has been repurposed for Heatmap.
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What happens when one of energy’s oldest bottlenecks meets its newest demand driver?
Often the biggest impediment to building renewable energy projects or data center infrastructure isn’t getting government approvals, it’s overcoming local opposition. When it comes to the transmission that connects energy to the grid, however, companies and politicians of all stripes are used to being most concerned about those at the top – the politicians and regulators at every level who can’t seem to get their acts together.
What will happen when the fiery fights on each end of the wire meet the broken, unplanned spaghetti monster of grid development our country struggles with today? Nothing great.
The transmission fights of the data center boom have only just begun. Utilities will have to spend lots of money on getting energy from Point A to Point B – at least $500 billion over the next five years, to be precise. That’s according to a survey of earnings information published by think tank Power Lines on Tuesday, which found roughly half of all utility infrastructure spending will go toward the grid.
But big wires aren’t very popular. When Heatmap polled various types of energy projects last September, we found that self-identified Democrats and Republicans were mostly neutral on large-scale power lines. Independent voters, though? Transmission was their second least preferred technology, ranking below only coal power.
Making matters far more complex, grid planning is spread out across decision-makers. At the regional level, governance is split into 10 areas overseen by regional transmission organizations, known as RTOs, or independent system operators, known as ISOs. RTOs and ISOs plan transmission projects, often proposing infrastructure to keep the grid resilient and functional. These bodies are also tasked with planning the future of their own grids, or at least they are supposed to – many observers have decried RTOs and ISOs as outmoded and slow to respond. Utilities and electricity co-ops also do this planning at various scales. And each of these bodies must navigate federal regulators and permitting processes, utility commissions for each state they touch, on top of the usual raft of local authorities.
The mid-Atlantic region is overseen by PJM Interconnection, a body now under pressure from state governors in the territory to ensure the data center boom doesn’t unnecessarily drive up costs for consumers. The irony, though, is that these governors are going to be under incredible pressure to have their states act against individual transmission projects in ways that will eventually undercut affordability.
Virginia, for instance – known now as Data Center Alley – is flanked by states that are politically diverse. West Virginia is now a Republican stronghold, but was long a Democratic bastion. Maryland had a Republican governor only a few years ago. Virginia and Pennsylvania regularly change party control. These dynamics are among the many drivers behind the opposition against the Piedmont Reliability Project, which would run from a nuclear plant in Pennsylvania to northern Virginia, cutting across spans of Maryland farmland ripe for land use conflict. The timeline for this project is currently unclear due to administrative delays.
Another major fight is brewing with NextEra’s Mid-Atlantic Resiliency Link, or MARL project. Spanning four states – and therefore four utility commissions – the MARL was approved by PJM Interconnection to meet rising electricity demand across West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. It still requires approval from each state utility commission, however. Potentially affected residents in West Virginia are hopping mad about the project, and state Democratic lawmakers are urging the utility commission to reject it.
In West Virginia, as well as Virginia and Maryland, NextEra has applied for a certificate of public convenience and necessity to build the MARL project, a permit that opponents have claimed would grant it the authority to exercise eminent domain. (NextEra has said it will do what it can to work well with landowners. The company did not respond to a request for comment.)
“The biggest problem facing transmission is that there’s so many problems facing transmission,” said Liza Reed, director of climate and energy at the Niskanen Center, a policy think tank. “You have multiple layers of approval you have to go through for a line that is going to provide broader benefits in reliability and resilience across the system.”
Hyperlocal fracases certainly do matter. Reed explained to me that “often folks who are approving the line at the state or local level are looking at the benefits they’re receiving – and that’s one of the barriers transmission can have.” That is, when one state utility commission looks at a power line project, they’re essentially forced to evaluate the costs and benefits from just a portion of it.
She pointed to the example of a Transource line proposed by PJM almost 10 years ago to send excess capacity from Pennsylvania to Maryland. It wasn’t delayed by protests over the line itself – the Pennsylvania Public Utilities Commission opposed the project because it thought the result would be net higher electricity bills for folks in the Keystone State. That’s despite whatever benefits would come from selling the electricity to Maryland and consumer benefits for their southern neighbors. The lesson: Whoever feels they’re getting the raw end of the line will likely try to stop it, and there’s little to nothing anyone else can do to stop them.
These hyperlocal fears about projects with broader regional benefits can be easy targets for conservation-focused environmental advocates. Not only could they take your land, the argument goes, they’re also branching out to states with dirtier forms of energy that could pollute your air.
“We do need more energy infrastructure to move renewable energy,” said Julie Bolthouse, director of land use for the Virginia conservation group Piedmont Environmental Council, after I asked her why she’s opposing lots of the transmission in Virginia. “This is pulling away from that investment. This is eating up all of our utility funding. All of our money is going to these massive transmission lines to give this incredible amount of power to data centers in Virginia when it could be used to invest in solar, to invest in transmission for renewables we can use. Instead it’s delivering gas and coal from West Virginia and the Ohio River Valley.”
Daniel Palken of Arnold Ventures, who previously worked on major pieces of transmission reform legislation in the U.S. Senate, said when asked if local opposition was a bigger problem than macro permitting issues: “I do not think local opposition is the main thing holding up transmission.”
But then he texted me to clarify. “What’s unique about transmission is that in order for local opposition to even matter, there has to be a functional planning process that gets transmission lines to the starting line. And right now, only about half the country has functional regional planning, and none of the country has functional interregional planning.”
It’s challenging to fathom a solution to such a fragmented, nauseating puzzle. One solution could be in Congress, where climate hawks and transmission reform champions want to empower the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to have primacy over transmission line approvals, as it has over gas pipelines. This would at the very least contain any conflicts over transmission lines to one deciding body.
“It’s an old saw: Depending on the issue, I’ll tell you that I’m supportive of states’ rights,” Representative Sean Casten told me last December. “[I]t makes no sense that if you want to build a gas pipeline across multiple states in the U.S., you go to FERC and they are the sole permitting authority and they decide whether or not you get a permit. If you go to the same corridor and build an electric transmission that has less to worry about because there’s no chance of leaks, you have a different permitting body every time you cross a state line.”
Another solution could come from the tech sector thinking fast on its feet. Google for example is investing in “advanced” transmission projects like reconductoring, which the company says will allow it to increase the capacity of existing power lines. Microsoft is also experimenting with smaller superconductor lines they claim deliver the same amount of power than traditional wires.
But this space is evolving and in its infancy. “Getting into the business of transmission development is very complicated and takes a lot of time. That’s why we’ve seen data centers trying a lot of different tactics,” Reed said. “I think there’s a lot of interest, but turning that into specific projects and solutions is still to come. I think it’s also made harder by how highly local these decisions are.”
Plus more of the week’s biggest development fights.
1. Franklin County, Maine – The fate of the first statewide data center ban hinges on whether a governor running for a Democratic Senate nomination is willing to veto over a single town’s project.
2. Jerome County, Idaho – The county home to the now-defunct Lava Ridge wind farm just restricted solar energy, too.
3. Shelby County, Tennessee - The NAACP has joined with environmentalists to sue one of Elon Musk’s data centers in Memphis, claiming it is illegally operating more than two dozen gas turbines.
4. Richland County, Ohio - This Ohio county is going to vote in a few weeks on a ballot initiative that would overturn its solar and wind ban. I am less optimistic about it than many other energy nerds I’ve seen chattering the past week.
5. Racine County, Wisconsin – I close this week’s Hotspots with a bonus request: Please listen to this data center noise.
A chat with Scott Blalock of Australian energy company Wärtsilä.
This week’s conversation is with Scott Blalock of Australian energy company Wärtsilä. I spoke with Blalock this week amidst my reporting on transmission after getting an email asking whether I understood that data centers don’t really know how much battery storage they need. Upon hearing this, I realized I didn’t even really understand how data centers – still a novel phenomenon to me – were incorporating large-scale battery storage at all. How does that work when AI power demand can be so dynamic?
Blalock helped me realize that in some ways, it’s more of the same, and in others, it’s a whole new ballgame.
The following chat was lightly edited for clarity.
So help me understand how the battery storage side of your business is changing due to the rise in data center development.
We’re really in the early stages for energy storage. The boom is really in generation – batteries aren’t generators. They store, they shift, they smooth power, but they don’t generate the power from fuel. In this boom right now, everyone is trying to find either grid connections or on-site power generation. Those are the longest lead time items – they take a while – so we’re still in the early stages of those types of projects coming back and saying, we need to start procuring batteries. We need to start looking at the controls and how everything’s going to work together. That’s still a little bit in the future.
Are you seeing people deploy batteries responsibly, in an integrated way, or is it people unsure what they need?
There’s definitely uncertainty as to what they need. The requirements are still hard to nail down. A lot of the requirements come from the load curve of the AI workloads they’re doing, and that’s still a bit of a moving target. It’s the importance of knowing the whole system and planning that out in the modeling space.
The biggest space of all this is the load profile. Without a load profile, there’s uncertainty about what you’re going to need –
When you say load profile, what do you mean?
The AI workload. The GPUs. The volatility. In a synchronized training load, all of the GPUs are generally doing the same thing at the same time. They all reach a pause state at the same time, and you’re close to full power on the data center, and then they say, okay now we go idle. It has a little bit of a wait and then starts back up again.
It’s that square wave, very sharp changes in power – that’s the new challenge of an AI data center. That’s one of the new uses of BESS that’s being added compared to the traditional data center doing data storage. They’re more stable which use less power and are more stable.
The volatility is where some of the friction comes in, and that has to be handled by some technology.
So what you’re telling me is that data center developers do not know how much they need in terms of battery storage? Simply put, they don’t know how much power they need?
Traditionally, utility-scale batteries – the projects we’ve been doing – come from a PPA, an interconnect agreement. There’s something in place where they know exactly how many batteries they can install. They know how many megawatts they’re allowed to install. Then they come to us and they say, I need a 4-megawatt battery for two hours. Tell me how many batteries you’re going to give me.
In a data center, they don’t know that first number. They don’t know how many megawatts they need. So that’s the first question: well, how big of a battery do you need?
If you have a 1-gigawatt data center that means the load change is 60% of that – 600 megawatts is the step up-and-down. The starting point is 600 megawatts for two hours. That’s the starting point that’ll cover being able to take care of that volatility. The duration is a part of it, too. From there you get into more detailed studies.
When it comes to transmission, how much of a factor is it in how much storage a data center needs?
The first thing is whether it’s connected at all. The battery is a shock absorber for the whole system. If you are grid-connected, the BESS is still a stability asset – it’s still improving the power quality and stability at an interconnect. If you’re doing on-site generation, it becomes vital because you have only one system being controlled.
As far as when you talk about permitting and transmission, the details of that don’t really play that much into the BESS, but it’s tangentially related. The BESS is an important part of how you handle that situation. Whether you get to interconnect or not, it’s an extremely important asset in that mix.
With respect to the overall social license conversation, how does battery storage fit into the conversations around energy bills and strain on the grid?
Bias aside, I think it’s the most important piece.
If you look at the macro scale, it’s like transitioning to renewables where they’re intermittent; batteries turn intermittent generation from renewables into firm, dispatchable power. It’s still not going to be available all the time – you’re not going to turn a solar plant into a 24-hour baseload plant – but a battery allows you to shift the energy. It greatly alleviates the problem.
The other aspect is it’s a stability asset. The short version of that is you have big thermal plants – rotating metal masses that have momentum to them that stabilize everything on the grid. As you take those offline, the coal plants and the gas plants, the grid itself loses that inertia so it is more susceptible to spikes and failures because of small events. Batteries are able to synthesize that inertia.