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The president isn’t trying to cut emissions as fast possible. He’s doing something else.

Here’s the problem with President Joe Biden’s climate policy: From a certain point of view, it makes no sense.
Take his electricity policy. At the top level, Biden has committed to eliminating greenhouse-gas pollution from the power sector by 2035. He wants to accomplish this largely by making clean energy cheaper — that’s the goal of the Inflation Reduction Act, of course — and he has also changed federal rules so it’s slightly easier to build power lines and large-scale renewable projects. He has also added teeth to that goal in the form of new Environmental Protection Agency rules cracking down on coal and natural gas.
Yet at the same time, Biden has seemingly also made it more difficult to decarbonize. Last week, he raised tariffs on cheap solar panels and grid-scale batteries made in China. And he ended the two-year “solar bridge,” a tariff exemption for some Chinese-based solar manufacturers that operated in other countries. That means that as soon as next month, some eye-watering tariffs — possibly as high as 254% — could apply to many U.S. solar imports.
Then there’s Biden’s policy on electric cars. The president wants 50% of all new vehicles sold in the U.S. to be EVs or plug-in hybrids by 2030, and he has overseen billions of dollars of spending aimed at building a national charging network. His climate law discounts the price of many EVs by $7,500 and directly subsidizes virtually every battery and vehicle made in America. Yet he recently put 100% tariffs on EV imports from China, the country that makes some of the world’s cheapest and best electric cars.
This combination is, frankly, a little confusing. And it has confounded critics around the world: It can sometimes seem like the president is cutting the cost of clean energy with one hand while raising it with another. “The Biden effect will be to raise the U.S. domestic price of EVs, solar panels and other green inputs and delay America’s energy transition,” writes Edward Luce of the Financial Times. The Economist, in high dudgeon, lectured Biden for forgetting his David Ricardo.
There is certainly much to criticize about Biden’s climate policy, but reading coverage of it, I’m often struck by how little the commentator seems to understand what the policy is trying to do. There is, as Noah Smith and Matt Yglesias have written, a strong national-security component to the tariffs announced last week. But there’s more to these policies than national security alone. Although the president’s actions can sometimes seem contradictory, there is in fact a logic to what Biden is trying to do on climate change. And without defending the policy, I think it is important to describe it accurately.
Let’s back up. For the past 30 years, climate advocates tried to raise the cost of fossil fuels in America by imposing a carbon price. Taxing carbon pollution is the most elegant and economically efficient way to solve climate change, and — at least in theory — it doesn’t require the kind of fine-tuned economic tampering that the Biden administration is engaged in. Or at least that’s what the economists say — I remain skeptical that a carbon tax alone would have succeeded in decarbonizing the economy without additional policy.
And in any case, the point is moot: Climate advocates never succeeded in passing such a price. Voters were understandably resistant to raising the cost of energy, especially gasoline, and no coalition emerged to persuade politicians that the political costs of a carbon tax would be worth bearing. During many of those years, too, the American economy was so understimulated that passing a revenue-raising tax made little political sense: There was effectively no public constituency for deficit reduction.
By 2020, Democrats had largely given up on this approach. Although many still believe that a carbon tax could be an effective decarbonization tool, they instead adopted a new political economic philosophy. Simplified somewhat, it goes something like:
1. The biggest obstacle to passing American climate policy is the lack of a domestic coalition that supports the deep and continued decarbonization of the domestic economy.
2. Passing climate policy has been so hard historically because a powerful and geographically diverse set of companies, unions, state, and local officials, and political donors — largely but not entirely in the fossil fuel industry — don’t want to see the U.S. move away from oil and natural gas. They’re backed up by status-quo-favoring consumers.
3. The central aim of near-term climate policy, then, should be to create an enduring coalition to support the continued decarbonization of the U.S. economy.
This is the guiding logic of Biden’s climate policy: that American politics must have a powerful, durable, and flexible pro-decarbonization coalition if the U.S. is to succeed in reaching net zero. Achieving this coalition is the underlying aim of the IRA, the EPA rules, and — yes — the recent tariffs.
This is what I wish critics understood about the president’s climate strategy: Biden’s strategy won’t have succeeded if the U.S. makes some headway on emissions but imports all of its decarbonization tech from China. The U.S. actually has to develop its own supply chain and manufacturing base to build the kind of deep economic coalition that can sustain long-term decarbonization. This is why trade restrictions have become so central to the administration’s world view.
I should add that for all that the administration emphasizes “good-paying union jobs” in its messaging around climate policy, jobs alone aren’t necessarily the goal of this strategy. Critics of American industrial policy sometimes point out that, even in China, the labor share of manufacturing is falling; indeed, one of China’s great manufacturing advantages is the extent to which it has automated its assembly lines. But that may not necessarily matter to coalition politics: As the political scientist Nina Kelsey has shown in her research on the Montreal Protocol, companies tend to support environmental policy when doing so will help their large-scale, fixed investments — essentially, their factories — not their labor force.
There are big risks to Biden’s strategy. The next administration — which in this moment looks likely to be helmed by Donald Trump — could repeal the production and installation subsidies for renewables but leave the tariffs in place. That would devastate the finances of domestic solar manufacturers and significantly slow down the decarbonization of America’s grid, and it would mean that Americans who want to import cheap solar panels wouldn’t be able to. That would essentially freeze America’s decarbonization effort while the rest of the world races ahead.
Even if Biden wins, the kind of economic management that he’s trying to do may simply not be possible in the federal system — or, for that matter, with the existing Democratic coalition. There may be too many interest groups to placate or too many obstacles to building. California offers a warning about how well-intentioned liberal policy can prevent enough new infrastructure from getting built.
Still a third risk is that the American solar manufacturing industry meets domestic demand but doesn’t become very competitive, so it doesn’t reduce costs aggressively. A relatively small number of firms actually make solar panels in the United States, and they have to compete for engineering talent with more established industries like software. What has brought down the cost of solar in China isn’t subsidies per se, but an intensely competitive and very large domestic market. It isn’t clear that the American market for solar power will attain such scale or efficiency.
These would, obviously, be lasting setbacks for American decarbonization. But even in critiquing this set of policies, I hope the world notes what a different problem America faces when taking on climate change as compared to the rest of the world. Most countries import more oil than they produce, meaning their fossil-fuel addiction shackles their currencies and economies to a volatile global commodity. They are only too happy to move away from fossil fuels, and especially oil, provided that a cheap and acceptable alternative is available. In the United Kingdom, for instance, cross-partisan support for decarbonization policy has existed since the era of Margaret Thatcher.
In the United States, with our oil-drenched politics, the task is different. Only a sufficiently powerful pro-climate coalition will be able to unseat the fossil fuels enthroned atop our economy. Forging this coalition — even if it slows down decarbonization for a few years — is Biden’s true goal. Whether that’s worth it is another story.
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Current conditions: Severe storms are drenching a broad swath of the Midwest with heavy rain from Des Moines to Fort Wayne • Intense downpours put all 76 of Thailand’s provinces, or changwat, on a five-day flooding alert, ending on Sunday • Tropical Storm Dujuan has strengthened in the Pacific en route to Japan.

The Trump administration has narrowed the federal government’s interpretation of the Endangered Species Act to only consider intentional targeting of protected animals illegal. The move, part of what The New York Times called “a seismic shift” in the application of one of the nation’s bedrock conservation laws, would essentially free energy companies from the need to, for example, invest in infrastructure to keep migratory birds from making deadly landings in ponds of oil and gas slurry. Killing endangered animals “almost always happens incidentally, in the course of economic activity,” the newspaper noted. It’s unclear whether the legal change would also apply to one of the industries President Donald Trump most frequently antagonizes for its accidental killing of birds: the wind industry.
When President Donald Trump announced an energy truce between Ukraine and Russia, he promised that a halt to attacks on pipelines and refineries would lower prices on diesel worldwide, insisting the Iran War wasn’t to blame. But half of Russia’s six top diesel-producing refineries were forced to significantly cut back or completely stop production this month due to damage from Ukrainian drone attacks, according to a Reuters analysis published Wednesday. Russian President Vladimir Putin, meanwhile, is making a $135 billion bet on Arctic oil that OilPrice.com suggested “could save his Ukraine war.”
U.S. energy companies, meanwhile, are storming into a country in America’s backyard that — unlike the Kremlin’s attempt at a blitzkrieg capture of Kyiv’s leaders in 2022 — successfully decapitated a rebellious regime and reasserted Washington’s regional dominance. I’m talking, of course, about Venezuela. Harold Hamm, the oil tycoon behind the U.S. shale boom, told the Heartlander News yesterday that his company had signed a tentative agreement to explore one of the South American nation’s oil fields. New York-based Heeney Capital is eyeing a gold mine in Venezuela, per Reuters. Bloomberg reported that the company is also looking to ship aluminum from Venezuela to the U.S. Exxon Mobil, meanwhile, is “nearing a preliminary deal” to invest in Venezuela oil, according to The Wall Street Journal.
The Federal Reserve raised the benchmark federal interest rate by a quarter point Wednesday. The U.S. central bank’s first rate change since Chairman Kevin Warsh took over in May, and its first rate hike since 2023, will bring the federal funds rate to between 3.75% and 4%. The increase could make raising capital “more difficult” for “capital-intensive renewable and clean energy industries,” my colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote yesterday.
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Lawmakers in the House of Representatives overwhelmingly passed the first major bill to curb the costs of the AI boom with legislation Politico described as “intended to shield Americans from potential energy costs associated with data centers.” The Ratepayer Protection Act passed in a 417 to 3 vote. The bipartisan win hands the GOP a victory ahead of the November election on one of the issues firing up voters the most. The bill would require states to consider a federal standard guaranteeing that large power consumers pay for 100% of the costs of new generation and transmission upgrades, but falls short of a direct mandate.
Meanwhile, the House split along partisan lines for another bill on California’s right to regulate pollution more strictly than the federal government. The chamber voted 216 to 211 to bar California from setting strict new limits on air pollution from ships docked at the state’s ports, marking what The New York Times called “the latest salvo by Republicans against the state’s pioneering environmental policies.” The move comes after Congress last year banned Sacramento from imposing a ban on gasoline-powered vehicles by 2035.
One of the most significant nuclear stock market debuts of the past few years has hit a major hiccup. On Wednesday night, Holtec Nuclear Corporation suspended plans for an initial public offering, citing “market conditions.” Bloomberg and Reuters first reported the postponement, which I confirmed with Holtec last night. “Holtec will continue to evaluate the timing of the offering in the future,” the company told me. With plans to restart a nuclear reactor for the first time in U.S. history in the coming months, Holtec is the only company likely to bring (somewhat) new atomic electricity onto the grid before 2030. The company owns several other decommissioning nuclear plants, where it plans to build its own in-house small modular reactors.
Another major player in the burgeoning nuclear market, meanwhile, hit a major regulatory milestone. Blue Energy, a developer that bills itself as “agnostic” to reactor technologies, is instead focused on building facilities that will initially run on gas and eventually transition to reactors, with GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy’s BWRX-300 — the closest rival to Holtec’s SMR-300 — centering in those plans at the moment. On Wednesday, Blue Energy submitted its application for a construction permit to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission for its inaugural gas-to-nuclear project in Port of Victoria, Texas. The submission makes Blue Energy one of just five companies so far to ask the NRC for permission to begin building. “This is serious work done by serious people for a serious project,” Blue Energy CEO Jake Jurewicz said in a statement. “This is another huge step towards building the world’s first gas-to-nuclear power plant and proving the Blue Energy approach to build nuclear in the safest, quickest, and most scalable way possible.”
The wine-dark sea is getting more briny. As its temperatures rise faster than the global ocean surface average, the Mediterranean Sea is growing saltier. The upper 100 meters of the sea between Europe and Africa have been about 2 degrees Celsius warmer than their 1950 to 1999 average, according to a study published in Geophysical Research Letters. “For us, what was alarming was the rate at which this is changing and the depths that such significant changes reach,” Elena Terzić, a physical oceanographer at the Ruđer Bošković Institute and lead author of the study, told Bloomberg. “The warming and salinification are statistically significant down to three or four thousand meters, and the speed-up itself reaches down to about 2,500 meters.”
The company plans to invest in domestic manufacturing for its high-heat magnets.
Our electricity system runs on magnets. Every transformer stepping voltage up or down, every inductor smoothing out electrical current, and every motor turning electricity into motion relies on the same basic physics: magnetic fields that control the flow of electrons, converting, filtering, and transporting power at every stage. But as AI and electrification push the grid to its limits, better magnetic materials can help power electronics — and our grid itself — keep up.
That’s the bet behind CorePower Magnetics, a Pittsburgh-based startup which raised a $10.5 million funding round co-led by Engine Ventures and Material Impact, announced on Thursday. The startup is developing more efficient, power-dense components such as inductors and transformers using proprietary nanocrystalline magnetic materials, whose ultra-fine grains reduce energy loss. While these materials have historically been brittle and limited to operating at temperatures below 150 degrees Celsius, CorePower says it engineered alloys that can perform above 200 degrees while maintaining durability.
That higher temperature ceiling is critical. As surging electricity demand meets our increasingly complex grid, power electronics like inductors and transformers are being pushed to handle more power, greater voltages, and higher frequencies than ever before. Magnetic material that can run hotter allows engineers to push more power through smaller components. In the context of a data center, for example, that could equate to about a 10% overall reduction in power demand, CorePower’s CEO Sam Kernion told me
“Data centers are the tip of the spear for this really big push into power electronics,” Kernion explained. “If you look more broadly, electricity demand is growing, but the grid itself is becoming a lot more complex, and data centers are just a great example of that.”
Traditionally, electricity flowed unidirectionally from large, centralized power plants to homes, businesses, and other end users. But now the system must support a wider array of both generation and demand sources. Distributed energy resources like rooftop solar panels can generate power directly where it’s consumed, while batteries (and soon electric vehicles) can both draw power and send it back to the grid. Today’s standard electrical equipment isn’t built to handle the bidirectional power flow and real-time current and voltage conversions that this new ecosystem demands.
Solid-state transformer startups such as Heron Power and DG Matrix are tackling this same challenge, using advanced semiconductor technology to convert voltage electronically while also handling functions like bidirectional power flow and alternating-to-direct current conversion. But even these newer systems still generally rely on conventional magnetic materials, which CorePower says have become a key bottleneck.
“We’re taking a car engine, and now we’re going to a jet engine in terms of how different this is,” Kernion told me regarding the demands of this new, higher performance operating environment.
CorePower is designing its advanced, medium-frequency transformers to operate across a broad range of frequencies, from 10 kilohertz to 100 kilohertz. Eventually it plans to sell these transformers to power electronics manufacturers, which will build complete, solid-state systems around the startup’s magnetic core, adding components such as semiconductors and capacitors along with their own software and control systems.
While CorePower hasn’t disclosed any customers to date, it did launch its first product last year, a standardized, low-voltage inductor that’s smaller, lighter, and more efficient than the industry standard. The device smooths out current in power conversion systems, including data center distribution equipment, EV chargers, and inverters that convert DC electricity to AC. Next, CorePower is preparing to launch its standardized transformer product.
The company’s magnet tech could ultimately find numerous applications beyond inductors and transformers. “We’re also able to supply onboard magnetic components for EVs, or uninterruptible power supplies at data centers, or inverters for renewables,” Kernion explained. “Every electron everywhere passes through a magnetic component at some point, so there’s a whole bunch of opportunity out there.”
It’s certainly a fortuitous time to be a domestic power electronics manufacturer. Last month, President Trump signed an executive order banning the import of certain foreign-made bulk power equipment, including substation transformers and grid-connected inverters. While CorePower is mainly focused on producing high-performance equipment that Kernion says can’t currently be sourced domestically or abroad, the push to shore up domestic manufacturing is providing a tailwind for another of its new business lines: amorphous ribbon, a traditional alternative to the electric steel used in conventional distribution transformers on the grid.
With this latest funding, CorePower plans to expand its team and increase manufacturing capacity at its 10,000 square foot pilot manufacturing facility in Pittsburgh, which it was able to complete thanks to a $5 million ARPA-E grant. The company is eventually looking to move into a larger, 100,000 square foot facility in the region to scale its material and component manufacturing further, though there’s no confirmed timeline for this yet.
One of the largest companies in the world says its products pose catastrophic peril. Sound familiar?
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.
Imagine, for a moment, a vast and growing firm — a conglomerate that could be said to define its era of American capitalism. Over the past several years, this firm’s products have become the biggest story in the U.S. economy. Its products are so mindbogglingly expensive to produce that they have driven new types of financial and infrastructural innovation, yet nevertheless the company seems to be quite profitable.
And little wonder: Everyone wants what they have. Investors, policymakers, and economists believe that America’s ongoing economic growth and competitiveness depend on ample access to this company’s products. The sitting Republican president has staked his administration on making sure Americans can get as much of it as they want — regulations be damned.
But there is a problem. One of the company’s researchers has become convinced that the company’s products are dangerous — so harmful, in fact, that their continued use and growth trajectory portends catastrophic risk for humanity. He attempts to alert the company’s executives to this fact. What happens next?
Perhaps you know the story. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, Exxon’s internal scientists concluded that the ongoing growth of fossil fuels would raise global temperatures and have “potentially catastrophic” effects on the planet’s climate. They presented these results to Exxon’s executives. A senior scientist warned that humanity had a brief window — “five to 10 years” — before “the need for hard choices regarding changes in energy strategies might become critical.”
Exxon led a large research effort into climate change, affirming its scientific validity. But then in the late 1980s, its CEO decided to go in the other direction. Its executives chose not to warn the public about climate change — and instead began a successful disinformation campaign meant to convince the public that climate change was not settled science.
But what if things had gone differently? We’re getting a taste of that pathway now. Last week, Sam Coxon, a researcher at the artificial intelligence company Anthropic, resigned because he feared the AI industry was too close to building an “out of control” intelligence. He quit his job just a few months before his corporate equity would have vested, giving up what would have likely been life-changing wealth to warn about what he believes to be existential risks. Humanity only had a brief period of time — perhaps a year — to steer the technology to a better path, he said.
Anthropic researchers who remain at the company affirmed his analysis. “We really do earnestly believe AI could kill all humans,” a senior scientist at the company posted on the social network X.
But this time, Anthropic’s CEO, Dario Amodei, did not respond as Exxon’s leadership did three decades ago. Instead, Amodei basically agreed with Coxon: He asked for the government to regulate artificial intelligence and “pace the frontier,” meaning that it should enforce a slower rate of cutting-edge artificial intelligence development.
I’ve thought of these two examples over the past few days as I’ve tried to make sense of the surge in public concern about AI and existential risk.
It seems to me that climate change is looming over the AI conversation and shaping the assumptions, outlook, and behavior of many key players and observers. President Trump, of course, is reading from the old playbook and has deemed AI to be a “hoax”; Coxon, appearing on Fox News, has downplayed climate change’s existential risk as compared to runaway AI. Yet even beyond those reruns and revisions, the analogy goes deeper: Just as nuclear non-proliferation agreements structured early attempts to regulate global greenhouse emissions, climate policy is now shaping how people understand AI risk.
And not for lack of cause. In some important ways, the problems — or alleged problems, depending on your perspective on AI — resemble each other. For instance, because technology exists in a global commons, any successful AI diplomacy must involve the United States and China. And since China’s AI development currently lags the United States, American politicians must persuade China that their proposals to regulate AI are not just concealed attempts to restrain China’s development.
This dynamic has long bedeviled climate negotiations, too. Since economic growth has (until very recently) required fossil fuels, China and other middle-income countries have long feared that any global climate treaty would constrain their future economic development. The Kyoto Protocol tried to finesse this problem by splitting countries into two groups, rich and not-rich; the Paris Agreement did it by imposing no collective restrictions on fossil fuel consumption at all.
Neither approach has worked, exactly, but each offer examples, counterexamples, and tools for thought. Perhaps the Montreal Protocol, which has successfully limited global production of the pollutants destroying stratospheric ozone — and has shown how to stop the growth of a dangerous but hard-to-manufacture technology that presents near-term existential risk — is a superior model.
There is at least one big way the two risks differ. Climate change is a chemical problem that arises from the size and scale of global fossil fuel consumption. Scientists have known that the greenhouse effect is real since the early 20th century. Climate change’s physics are rudimentary enough that Exxon’s in-house scientists could predict the path of future warming with some accuracy. It is a verifiable risk.
AI’s alleged existential risks, on the other hand, emerge from a lab pushing the technological frontier too far and drilling, like Tolkien’s dwarves, too deep. AI concern relies not on empirical observations, but on a story about exponential change and runaway growth. In this way, it’s a harder risk to predict, and a harder one to accept.
Climate advocates have long wondered what would have happened if Exxon’s leaders had embraced reality and warned the public in the 1980s that global warming is real and caused by fossil fuels. Inside Climate News once called it a “road not taken.” I can’t help but wonder if we’re watching it.