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Plus, what a Texas energy veteran thinks is behind the surprising turn against solar and wind.

I couldn’t have a single conversation with a developer this week without talking about Texas.
In case you’re unaware, the Texas Senate two days ago passed legislation — SB 819 — that would require all solar and wind projects over 10 megawatts to receive a certification from the state Public Utilities Commission — a process fossil fuel generation doesn’t have to go through. The bill, which one renewables group CEO testified would “kill” the industry in Texas, was approved by the legislature’s GOP majority despite a large number of landowners and ranchers testifying against the bill, an ongoing solar and wind boom in the state, and a need to quickly provide energy to Texas’ growing number of data centers and battery manufacturing facilities.
But that’s not all: On the same day, the Texas Senate Business and Commerce Committee approved a bill — SB 715 — that would target solar and wind by requiring generation facilities to be able to produce power whenever called upon by grid operators or otherwise pay a fine. Critics of the bill, which as written does not differentiate between new and existing facilities, say it could constrain the growth of Texas’ energy grid, not to mention impose penalties on solar and wind facilities that lack sufficient energy storage on site.
Renewable energy trades are in freak-out mode, mobilizing to try and scuttlebutt bills that could stifle what otherwise would be a perfect state for the sector. As we’ve previously explained, a big reason why Texas is so good for development is because, despite its ruby red nature, there is scant regulation letting towns or counties get in the way of energy development generally.
Seeking to best understand why anti-renewables bills are sailing through the Lone Star State, I phoned Doug Lewin, a Texas energy sector veteran, on the morning of the votes in the Texas Senate. Lewin said he believes that unlike other circumstances we’ve written about, like Oklahoma and Arizona, there really isn’t a groundswell of Texans against renewable energy development. This aligns with our data in Heatmap Pro, which shows 76% of counties being more welcoming than average to a utility-scale wind or solar farm. This is seen even in the author of the 24/7 power bill – state Senator Kevin Sparks – who represents the city of Midland, which is in a county that Heatmap Pro modeling indicates has a low risk of opposition. The Midland area is home to several wind and solar projects; German renewables giant RWE last month announced it would expand into the county to power oil and gas extraction with renewables.
But Lewin told me there’s another factor: He believes the legislation is largely motivated by legislators’ conservative voters suffering from a “misinformation” and “algorithm” problem. It’s their information diets, he believes, which are producing fears about the environmental impacts of developing renewable energy.
“He’s actively working against the interests of his district,” Lewin said of Sparks. “It’s algorithms. I don’t know what folks think is going on. People are just getting a lot of bad information.”
One prominent example came from a hailstorm during Hurricane Uri last year. Ice rocks described like golfballs rained down upon south-east Texas, striking, among other things, a utility-scale solar farm called Fighting Jays overseen by Copenhagen Infrastructure Partners. The incident went viral on Facebook and was seized upon by large conservative advocacy organizations including the Competitive Enterprise Institute.
What’s next? Honestly, the only thing standing between these bills and becoming law is a sliver of hope in the renewables world that the millions of dollars flowing into Texas House members’ districts via project investments and tax benefits outweigh the conservative cultural animus against their product. But if the past is prologue, things aren’t looking great.
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Rural Marylanders have asked for the president’s help to oppose the data center-related development — but so far they haven’t gotten it.
A transmission line in Maryland is pitting rural conservatives against Big Tech in a way that highlights the growing political sensitivities of the data center backlash. Opponents of the project want President Trump to intervene, but they’re worried he’ll ignore them — or even side with the data center developers.
The Piedmont Reliability Project would connect the Peach Bottom nuclear plant in southern Pennsylvania to electricity customers in northern Virginia, i.e.data centers, most likely. To get from A to B, the power line would have to criss-cross agricultural lands between Baltimore, Maryland and the Washington D.C. area.
As we chronicle time and time again in The Fight, residents in farming communities are fighting back aggressively – protesting, petitioning, suing and yelling loudly. Things have gotten so tense that some are refusing to let representatives for Piedmont’s developer, PSEG, onto their properties, and a court battle is currently underway over giving the company federal marshal protection amid threats from landowners.
Exacerbating the situation is a quirk we don’t often deal with in The Fight. Unlike energy generation projects, which are usually subject to local review, transmission sits entirely under the purview of Maryland’s Public Service Commission, a five-member board consisting entirely of Democrats appointed by current Governor Wes Moore – a rumored candidate for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination. It’s going to be months before the PSC formally considers the Piedmont project, and it likely won’t issue a decision until 2027 – a date convenient for Moore, as it’s right after he’s up for re-election. Moore last month expressed “concerns” about the project’s development process, but has brushed aside calls to take a personal position on whether it should ultimately be built.
Enter a potential Trump card that could force Moore’s hand. In early October, commissioners and state legislators representing Carroll County – one of the farm-heavy counties in Piedmont’s path – sent Trump a letter requesting that he intervene in the case before the commission. The letter followed previous examples of Trump coming in to kill planned projects, including the Grain Belt Express transmission line and a Tennessee Valley Authority gas plant in Tennessee that was relocated after lobbying from a country rock musician.
One of the letter’s lead signatories was Kenneth Kiler, president of the Carroll County Board of Commissioners, who told me this lobbying effort will soon expand beyond Trump to the Agriculture and Energy Departments. He’s hoping regulators weigh in before PJM, the regional grid operator overseeing Mid-Atlantic states. “We’re hoping they go to PJM and say, ‘You’re supposed to be managing the grid, and if you were properly managing the grid you wouldn’t need to build a transmission line through a state you’re not giving power to.’”
Part of the reason why these efforts are expanding, though, is that it’s been more than a month since they sent their letter, and they’ve heard nothing but radio silence from the White House.
“My worry is that I think President Trump likes and sees the need for data centers. They take a lot of water and a lot of electric [power],” Kiler, a Republican, told me in an interview. “He’s conservative, he values property rights, but I’m not sure that he’s not wanting data centers so badly that he feels this request is justified.”
Kiler told me the plan to kill the transmission line centers hinges on delaying development long enough that interest rates, inflation and rising demand for electricity make it too painful and inconvenient to build it through his resentful community. It’s easy to believe the federal government flexing its muscle here would help with that, either by drawing out the decision-making or employing some other as yet unforeseen stall tactic. “That’s why we’re doing this second letter to the Secretary of Agriculture and Secretary of Energy asking them for help. I think they may be more sympathetic than the president,” Kiler said.
At the moment, Kiler thinks the odds of Piedmont’s construction come down to a coin flip – 50-50. “They’re running straight through us for data centers. We want this project stopped, and we’ll fight as well as we can, but it just seems like ultimately they’re going to do it,” he confessed to me.
Thus is the predicament of the rural Marylander. On the one hand, Kiler’s situation represents a great opportunity for a GOP president to come in and stand with his base against a would-be presidential candidate. On the other, data center development and artificial intelligence represent one of the president’s few economic bright spots, and he has dedicated copious policy attention to expanding growth in this precise avenue of the tech sector. It’s hard to imagine something less “energy dominance” than killing a transmission line.
The White House did not respond to a request for comment.
Plus more of the week’s most important fights around renewable energy.
1. Wayne County, Nebraska – The Trump administration fined Orsted during the government shutdown for allegedly killing bald eagles at two of its wind projects, the first indications of financial penalties for energy companies under Trump’s wind industry crackdown.
2. Ocean County, New Jersey – Speaking of wind, I broke news earlier this week that one of the nation’s largest renewable energy projects is now deceased: the Leading Light offshore wind project.
3. Dane County, Wisconsin – The fight over a ginormous data center development out here is turning into perhaps one of the nation’s most important local conflicts over AI and land use.
4. Hardeman County, Texas – It’s not all bad news today for renewable energy – because it never really is.
A conversation with Cape May County Commissioner candidate Eric Morey.
This week’s conversation is with Eric Morey, who just ran to be a commissioner for Cape May County, New Jersey – one of the Garden State coastal counties opposed to offshore wind. Morey is a Democrat and entered the race this year as a first-time politician, trying to help crack the county panel’s more-than-two-decade Republican control. Morey was unsuccessful, losing by thousands of votes, but his entry into politics was really interesting to me – we actually met going back and forth about energy policy on Bluesky, and he clearly had a passionate interest in debunking some of the myths around renewables. So I decided to call him up in the hopes he would answer a perhaps stupid question: Could his county ever support offshore wind?
The following conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Why did you run for county commissioner?
The biggest part of my motivation to step forward and try to get elected was I really felt like the light advocacy I did in the past wasn’t enough. The commission has been entirely controlled by the Republican Party for 25 years – and that’s no reason to not try.
I think it kind of worked. Unfortunately I was unable to convince enough people to vote for me this go around. But I was reaching people who traditionally wouldn’t have considered voting for a Democrat, and I think I can get more people to come around next time. I’m not giving up, and I now have the benefit of hindsight. I’m going to spend more time in front of people, talking to them.
Was offshore wind an issue in your county commissioner race?
Unfortunately the Republican Party in Cape May County, the leadership, made sure the wind farms weren’t really going to be an active issue for our race because they spearheaded years of lawsuits that shut down offshore wind in New Jersey. It was kind of a moot point for this particular election. There wasn’t much to advocate for because there weren’t companies willing to take up projects.
But I was able to talk to people about the disappointment. There was so much hard work put in to stop a project that would’ve had huge benefits for electricity prices and the environment. It was a bit more indirect – there was no ability to campaign for, well, getting wind turbines up to ease electricity prices. Instead it became highlighting the decision-making process rather than advocating for an opportunity.
Now the opening is for solar in Cape May County, and I advocated for easier solar panel installations on people’s private properties, on their homes, and using the county property to install solar energy. I think there's still a lot of low-hanging fruit there. But even then, a lot of people in the county actually have solar installed, and there are others who see limitations to putting solar on their property because of constraints on the grid. Some people here can’t attach to the grid.
Do you think that your perspective on this issue, your willingness to look up information and tell people about the complexities around this, has a place in Cape May County? Is there room for an agnostic or even pro-renewable energy candidate in Cape May County?
I think there’s room, but it’s not going to be the primary concern of most voters, to be honest.
There was a big movement amongst residents against the wind turbines, largely for aesthetic reasons. They didn’t want the shoreline to have wind turbines on the horizon. There’s others who are awash with a campaign that I might characterize as “concern trolling” where if you look into them, it’s not as pure of a win as it actually is.
Being able to talk to people and hear their concerns, I think it gained me a lot of room. I’ve had conversations with people who were skeptical about wind turbines, and after listening to something they talked about, I’d do research and then invite them into another conversation, and they’d see I am not dismissing them.
What I find is that what people are bringing up is not false, per se, but not a reason to stop offshore wind. It makes the projects an imperfect deal, not a bad deal.
What do you think it would take for Cape May County to be okay with offshore wind?
I think for it to change … I don’t know if I have the answer there. Financially I think the numbers need to be right for a company to come in to want to do it, number one. And if nobody wants to come and install the wind turbines, then I don’t know how much sentiment would matter.
But as far as sentiment is concerned, just seeing that it works in other places helps a lot, as people see a project doesn’t bring about the negative consequences they were worried about.
Also, from a human being standpoint … At some point electricity might get pricey enough that people might be more accepting of something they don’t think is aesthetically pleasing.