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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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This type of clean energy infrastructure is booming across the country.
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.
You know it, and I know it: The United States struggles to build certain kinds of large-scale energy infrastructure. That presents a challenge for people who, say, want to decarbonize the economy, because decarbonizing will require replacing the stock of fossil fuel-consuming power plants and pipelines with new clean alternatives. Even carbon-intensive industries, such as data centers, have started to hit bottlenecks.
Yet there is at least one energy industry that’s pulling off year-over-year, double-digit growth rates in the United States right now — and it’s not data centers.
It’s batteries. The battery storage industry is booming across the country, according to new data from the Energy Information Administration. The amount of utility-scale battery storage capacity has grown by an average of 70% over the past three years, according to a recent EIA article. Developers and utilities have added 8.3 gigawatts of capacity just in the first six months of this year, and the agency says that we could add another 14 gigawatts by the beginning of 2027.
Our nerdier readers will understand this, but this battery boom is changing the nature of electricity itself. Until recently, the easiest way to store electricity was to keep a stash of unused fuel on the same site as a power plant, usually in the form of coal, natural gas, diesel, or uranium. There were other ways to store power — perhaps by building a pumped storage hydropower facility — but they weren’t particularly easy, cheap, or modular, and their constraints only made them suitable for some sites.
But lithium-ion batteries have allowed developers to quickly build out battery storage facilities across the country. I recently came across such a site while hiking in Harriman State Park, 40 miles north of New York City, where the local utility had built grid-scale batteries near a substation to help stabilize the grid. (It was like meeting a celebrity.) And while batteries are not necessarily clean, per se — they can technically save any “type” of electricity for later — solar farms are building larger batteries than any other type of power plant, the EIA says.
It helps that the Inflation Reduction Act’s tax incentives for grid-scale battery construction survived President Donald Trump’s partial repeal last year. The battery boom has stabilized other parts of the clean energy economy. Ford and General Motors have invested in grid-scale battery technology or retooled what were once EV production lines to make grid-scale batteries instead.
None of this, to be clear, is to say it's always easy to develop batteries. There are now 74 gigawatts of pending battery projects across the country, according to Heatmap Pro data. About 34 projects — totaling at least 6.1 gigawatts — have been canceled over the past few years, our data shows.
Yet our data — and the EIA’s — also shows that dozens of battery projects have overcome public opposition and successfully gotten built. I expect we'll see even more power on in the future.
Jack Klein talks about how to protect New York City’s most vulnerable transit customers, why subway air conditioning has made platform heat worse.
You might already know Jack Klein. Last summer, he went viral on TikTok for his videos documenting the heat on various New York City subway platforms, including recording a whopping “feels like” temperature of 130 degrees Fahrenheit at the 6th Avenue/14th Street L train station.
“No one had collected subterranean data within the New York subway system,” he told me. The results of his unsanctioned citizen science project — which covered seven highly-trafficked stations up and down Manhattan — attracted the attention of The Weather Company, Google Public Sector, and the New York Post (which called it a “quirky art project.”) Building on the success of his weird videos, Klein formally founded New York Lab last fall. There, he works to bring together engineers, scientists, and public health experts to lobby the Metropolitan Transportation Authority — a state agency, believe it or not, which holds the ultimate decision-making powers — to do more for the populations hit worse by extreme temperatures during their commutes.
After many rejections and setbacks, it appears that someone is finally listening to Klein. On Tuesday, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani and New York Governor Kathy Hochul announced that the MTA is launching a feasibility study for the development of a thermal energy network at the Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall and Chambers Street station complex, funded by the New York State Energy Research and Development Authority. Essentially, the city and state want to know whether the stations are hot enough that the thermal energy could be captured — via 500-foot-deep boreholes that cool the platforms in the process — and used to warm nearby municipal buildings like City Hall in the winter.
I caught up with Klein to learn what he thinks about the project and what else the transit agency could do to bring relief to straphangers in the short term. Our conversation has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.
What do you think about the location the city chose for this study?
I thought it was interesting they chose those stations. It seems like it’s a good place to test geothermal solutions because it sounds like there is a part of the tracks that isn’t being used, so they don’t have to stop service. That’s one of the challenges of these large infrastructure projects: The trains run 24/7, so you can’t really shut down the stations. [Editor’s note: The city also recently announced a multi-million-dollar restoration project for the Chambers Street station, funded by congestion pricing.]
Logistically it makes more sense because these other stations [I looked at] are really high in foot traffic — which I'm sure Chambers is, too — but because they're able to do the construction without disrupting traffic, they avoid a major roadblock. I feel like for a pilot, you don’t necessarily have to do it at the hottest station; the question is, what’s a hot station we can feasibly do this at?
Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall wasn’t a platform you monitored during your project last year, but the mayor’s office says it’s one of the hottest in the system, reaching 96 degrees Fahrenheit last summer. How does that compare with what you recorded?
I focused on the heat index, or the “feels like” temperature. They must be measuring the actual temperature of the station, but I don’t really ever go down there, so I don’t actually know. Of the stations I measured, 14th Street-Union Square and Times Square were in the 120s and 130s near the platform when the trains were in the station. So I imagine it’s quite similar.
Why was humidity important for you to factor in?
I remember two years ago, I had a digital thermometer, and I was pointing it at, like, a wet floor sign or the walls and floors of Union Square. There’s a shock value there, but it actually means nothing in terms of what my whole project is based around, which is that this is a health issue — especially for people in the most vulnerable populations, like the elderly, people with disabilities, pregnant people. So how do we measure what it actually feels like to stand waiting for a train? And we live in a subtropical environment, so humidity is a major factor. I mean, I’m literally sweating through my shirt in a [Brooklyn] school right now. There’s no AC, and it’s not even that hot; it’s just so humid.
And air-conditioned trains actually make the stations hotter, right?
It seems like one of the largest contributors to extreme heat in the stations during the summer is the AC onboard the trains. When a train pulls in, all the excess heat gets pushed onto the platform. You can feel that when you’re waiting for trains; when they pull in, it’s like an inferno of hot air on your face.
It’s a double-edged sword: They’re cooling the trains to be extremely cold, which is nice, but sometimes it’s a bit extreme, and it’s only making the stations hotter. I know there has been talk about not cooling them to such an insane degree, making them a bit warmer, so it wouldn’t heat the stations quite as much. But it’s a sort of paradoxical thing. There’s no right or wrong; it’s just the reality of having AC on trains. It makes the tunnels hotter and the stations hotter.
Did the possibility of a thermal energy network ever come up when you were talking with experts and the MTA about ways to deal with the subway heat?
Last summer, in September of 2025, the MTA issued a request for information on geothermal cooling technologies — specifically for the 168th Street 1 Station and the 181st 1 Station — because both are very deep, and there’s potential for Columbia and New York Presbyterian to use the heat during the winter. Some scientists and I, along with a geothermal engineering company I did this pro bono for, filled out a 14-question feasibility analysis. That was the RFI. Basically, it wasn’t a full analysis, but it was like, “If you were to pay us to do this, here’s what we could answer. Here’s a very quick explanation of how you could use boreholes. What other assets does the MTA already have that could be useful? How much money could you make off it?”
But now, we haven’t heard from the MTA in a year since our RFI. And I understand how RFIs work, which is that you don’t often hear back, but it does make me curious. What is the process for contracting out the pilot? Who gets chosen? Will we hear back? Because we did throw our hat in the ring a year ago, and now we’re hearing about it, and it’s obviously a direct result of those RFIs. So it’s exciting, but I’m also selfishly a bit like, Okay, well, are we going to be involved at all?
So you think there’s something to this idea, then.
I was relying on the engineers and scientists I partnered with to actually understand the technical side of these questions, but they are excited. They’re very confident in it.
The MTA put out another RFI in 2023 for geothermal, and though that didn’t go anywhere, there’s been talk about this for a while. That’s why this is exciting. But again, they announced the pilot, but it has to happen at one station, and there are all the financial and political hurdles still to come. So it’s cool that Mamdani is announcing it, but who knows what’s going to happen? Still, I think it’s the farthest the idea has gotten. And if they actually test it out, that’d be monumental.
What else could the MTA do to cool the stations down and keep people safe?
There’s another pilot right now [at the East Broadway Station] using radiant cooling technology, which runs pipes of water on the ceiling to soak up the heat. I’m focused right now on promoting access to water underground, more seating, and better ventilation — shorter-term, more adaptable, more realistic solutions. Because who knows how long these projects will take to actually implement in hundreds of stations?
Money is pouring into small modular and microreactor startups. But there can only be so many winners.
Investment in smaller, next-generation nuclear reactor designs is booming, with a flood of capital pouring into scaled-down models known as small modular reactors — or, if they’re extra tiny, microreactors. In just the past few weeks, Valar Atomics announced a $1 billion Series B, while Antares Nuclear closed its $470 million Series C. The two companies are attempting to serve different customers — Valar is targeting hyperscale data centers, while Antares is building for off-grid military applications — but both are betting on the same premise: that smaller, factory-built reactors can deliver reliable, carbon-free power far more quickly, flexibly, and cheaply than traditional large-scale nuclear plants.
Venture capital is eating it up. In addition to Valar and Antares’ raises this year, SMR startup X-Energy went public in April, raising over $1 billion at a $9.1 billion valuation. Last year alone, SMR companies TerraPower, Last Energy, Radiant Industries, Aalo Atomics, Arc Clean Technology, and Stellaria all raised rounds.
It seems like every week brings another announcement about an SMR company hitting a new milestone or a microreactor raising a new round. But some industry experts aren’t buying the hype. One 2024 report by the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis summarizes it neatly with the title, “Small Modular Reactors: Still too expensive, too slow and too risky.” One of the report’s co-authors, Dennis Wamsted, thinks this blunt analysis has held up remarkably well.
“I still think that’s one of the best-titled reports we ever wrote,” he told me, arguing that nothing in the past two years has changed his fundamental analysis of the sector. “I think it’s just as overhyped as it was a few years ago. There is a shiny new object mentality to SMRs. They’re going to work perfectly right out of the box.” Instead, the report argues, borrowing a phrase from NextEra Energy CEO John Ketchum, SMRs are “an opportunity to lose money in smaller batches.”
The report came out about six months after NuScale — still the only SMR company with a design certified by the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission — canceled its inaugural project in Idaho before construction even began. It’s been a wild ride ever since: Buoyed by investor excitement over an artificial intelligence-driven nuclear renaissance, NuScale’s stock soared last year before losing most of its value once again as the company posted major losses.
The AI boom has driven much of the surge in SMR interest, as hyperscalers scramble to procure power for a rapidly expanding fleet of new data centers. Google, Amazon, and Meta have signed agreements with SMR developers Kairos Power, X-energy, and TerraPower and Oklo, respectively. At the same time, bipartisan support for nuclear is growing. Recent Gallup polls show that 46% of Americans believe the U.S. should put a greater emphasis on nuclear power and that 61% support the technology overall. Other surveys suggest SMRs in particular enjoy even higher levels of favorability.
The Trump administration has gone all in too, signing executive orders directing the Department of Energy and Department of Defense to prioritize deploying small reactors at domestic military bases and spinning up the Reactor Pilot Program to expedite testing of 11 new advanced reactor designs outside the jurisdiction of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. The program aimed to have three reach criticality — the point at which a nuclear reaction becomes self-sustaining — by this July 4th. Four microreactor companies ended up beating the deadline: Antares, Valar, Deployable Energy, and Aalo Atomics, while the Sam Altman-backed SMR company Oklo achieved criticality last week.
“Say I was an advisor to the Department of Energy,” Wamsted’s co-auther David Schlissel, formerly director of resource planning analysis at the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis, posited to me. “Even with the risk, the smart way to go is, let’s pick two or three designs and go out and build them. Build one of each. See which ones work and which ones don’t. But what’s happening is the exact opposite of that.”
Whether federal policy is creating a durable new industry or not, there are still plenty of situations where customers need clean, firm power and today’s options fall short. Solar-plus-storage is broadly useful, but matching nuclear’s 24/7 availability can require significant overbuilding. And when it comes to large-scale nuclear, a customer may need power sooner than when a project that big could feasibly come online.
Many customers are also simply unwilling to take on the risk of a multibillion-dollar, decade-long nuclear megaproject, which tend to run over time and budget. The only new reactors built in the U.S. since the Three Mile Island accident in 1979 — two huge Westinghouse AP1000 units capable of generating 1.1 gigawatts of power apiece — have become poster children for this risk. Units 3 and 4 at the Vogtle Electricity Generating Plant in Georgia came online in 2023 and 2024, respectively, roughly seven years late and tens of billions of dollars over budget. Georgia Power customers will be paying off Vogtle well into the 2050s.
This has left many SMR entrepreneurs and industry boosters convinced there simply must be a better way. "The only customers capable of buying a reactor that large are either nation-state governments or essentially state-backed utilities,” Jordan Bramble, Antares’ co-founder and CEO, told me.
In part because of this, Bramble rejects the idea that small reactors are even competing with large-scale nuclear in the first place, explaining that the either/or framing overlooks the fact that these designs attract distinct pools of capital. “What a venture capitalist in private equity is going to invest in versus a municipal bond investor or a utility investor is going to invest in are two totally different things,” he told me.
And while SMRs may eventually seek institutional capital too, Bramble points to recent funding rounds by Anthropic, OpenAI, and Commonwealth Fusion Systems as evidence of just how much money companies can attract in today's private market even before their tech has come down the cost curve. “I think when the upside equation is there, there’s near limitless money in venture and growth equity right now,” he told me.
True? Largely. Indicative of a bubble? Possibly.
One lesson many developers took from NuScale seems to be about customer selection. While NuScale intended to serve a coalition of small, price-sensitive municipal utilities, today’s SMR startups are targeting early adopters with more room in their budgets: AI hyperscalers, of course, but also military and defense customers and industrial companies such as chemicals and metals producers that can put both nuclear’s heat and electricity to use. Modular, factory-based production is central to many of their strategies, along with even smaller reactor designs. While NuScale sought to build 77-megawatt reactors, Valar is targeting 5 megawatts while Antares is building in the 100-kilowatt to 1-gigawatt range.
But utility analyst Bill Tilles argues that scaling down further isn’t the answer. The fundamental issue with SMRs, he told me, is that they suffer from a "reverse economy of scale." That is, shrink the size of the reactor and the cost per watt of electricity produced goes up, not down. Add in a market crowded with dozens of these companies pursuing different reactor designs and fuel types but chasing the same data center, defense, and industrial customers, and it becomes difficult to see how any single one can attract the critical mass of customers needed to scale up a manufacturing line and become relatively cost-effective.
Of course, every SMR company says it’s uniquely positioned to emerge as a winner in what even Bramble acknowledges is an overcrowded field likely to see consolidation in the coming years through either mergers and acquisitions or outright failures. Still, he’s feeling confident in Antares’ decision to pursue the Department of Defense as a beachhead customer: In April, the Air Force selected the company to build a 500-kilowatt microreactor at a military base in San Antonio, set to come online in 2028.
“[Nuclear] actually was always a defense-first technology that eventually became commercial, and that’s how rocket propulsion worked. It’s how GPS worked. It’s how semiconductors worked. It’s even how the internet developed,” he told me. Bramble said he thinks Antares can follow a similar trajectory, riding the cost curve down before eventually bringing a grid-scale product to market.
While SMR skeptics may not be convinced this grid-scale goal is truly feasible, many do acknowledge that remote military bases offer a compelling, if niche, market for SMRs and microreactors. The military has operated nuclear-powered submarines for decades, so the concept of using small reactors in situations where conventional refueling is costly and dangerous is not without precedent. “You have these unique, price insensitive buyers that the government will try to encourage,” Tilles told me of remote deployments. “But one should not confuse that with anything resembling a commercial technology.”
That may be where the real debate lies — whether there are enough price insensitive customers for multiple companies to commercialize small reactors at scale and drive costs down.
There’s also the question of what the market will look like by the time these companies are ready to scale production — a milestone experts peg around the mid-2030s. Ultra-long-duration energy storage company Form Energy and advanced geothermal developer Fervo are already building out and turning on their first commercial projects, while multiple fusion companies are similarly targeting the mid-2030s for commercialization. If any or all of these technologies take off, they could reshape the market for clean, firm power — and thus the options available to SMRs’ potential customers.
But Benton Arnett, senior director at the industry group Nuclear Energy Institute, argues that multi-billion-dollar energy customers would be unwise to put all their eggs in one technological basket, betting that ultra-long duration storage or fusion alone will meet all their future energy needs. “You’ve got to have a diversity of investments and a diversity of plays so you can capture what’s going to be most available over the next 10 years, which can be really hard to predict,” he told me. He’s obviously betting SMRs will be among those technologies of the future. “I think everyone’s building right now not based on hype, but based on real dollars that are changing hands, building out this kind of new data center ecosystem.”
Bramble, for his part, thinks the hype cycle might be real. He just doesn’t see the exuberance as a negative for Antares or the industry at large. “Some of the most generational, economically transformational companies get built during a hype cycle,” he told me. “That was true of Google and Amazon in the dot-com bubble. This was true of the railroads. The best ones emerged during a period of mass overbuilding and overinvestment.”
So the question may not be whether the SMR boom will produce any winners, but how many — and how much capital investors and startups will burn in the process. Because while the Google of small nuclear may still be waiting to emerge, history suggests there will be plenty of nuclear equivalents of Pets.coms, Kozmo.coms, and Webvans along the way.