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A victory for activists also represents a political gamble for the president.

Perhaps the biggest political test of the climate movement has now arrived.
There are a few ways to think about this. But first, the facts: The Biden administration will temporarily stop approving new liquified natural gas export terminals, allowing the Energy Department to study the effect that they have on the climate, the White House announced on Friday.
The decision is a victory for climate activists, who had demanded President Joe Biden halt the growth of what may be the country’s most important fossil fuel industry. It also throws into question whether some of the biggest pending LNG projects — such as Calcasieu Pass 2, or CP2, a proposed Louisiana terminal that activists have dubbed a “carbon mega bomb” — will ultimately get built.
The pause could also complicate Biden’s foreign policy, which has used America’s status as a major energy supplier to pacify allies and wield economic might. Since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022 and throttled gas supplies to Europe, the United States has used its vast stores of liquified natural gas to supply allied countries with energy that conventional estimates say is less climate-polluting than coal.
In a statement, Biden framed the pause as a crucial part of his administration’s ambitious climate policy.
“From Day One, my administration has set the United States on an unprecedented course to tackle the climate crisis at home and abroad,” Biden said. “This pause on new LNG approvals sees the climate crisis for what it is: the existential threat of our time.
While the approvals are paused, the Energy Department will study the effect liquified natural gas export terminals could have on domestic and global greenhouse gas emissions. That review will likely last more than a year, almost certainly pushing a final decision until after the presidential election.
Biden also said the pause could be suspended in the case “of unanticipated and immediate national security emergencies.”
Energy Secretary Jennifer Granholm joined a call with reporters on Thursday. “As our exports increase,” she said, “we must review export applications using the most comprehensive up-to-date analysis of the economic, environmental and national security considerations.”
Although the United States only began exporting liquified natural gas in 2016, it is now the world’s top exporter of the fossil fuel. And the country’s dominance in the industry is growing. By 2027, a slate of new liquified natural gas facilities
are set to open in North America, including several in the U.S., doubling the continent’s export capacity.
I think it’s fair to say that the Biden administration took many climate experts — a different class than activists, to be clear — by surprise. Liam Denning, a Bloomberg columnist who is no enemy of the green transition, dubbed the pause “clever, clever politics and bad policy.”
The activist case against liquified natural gas turns on an incendiary new analysis by Robert Howarth, a Cornell professor of ecology and environmental biology, that claims exporting natural gas could be significantly worse than coal for the climate. Howarth’s analysis has not been published in a scientific journal, but it has been cited repeatedly by the climate journalist and activist Bill McKibben, who has emerged as perhaps the leading opponent of building the new terminals. Using Howarth’s math, CP2 and other export terminals start to look worse than the Willow pipeline in Alaska that the Biden administration approved last year.
It’s hard to imagine Biden making this decision if the campaign wasn’t freaking out about getting Gen Z and younger Millennials to vote. The president’s polling among young voters has been so abysmal lately that it defied belief at first, and young voters widely oppose how America is handling Israel’s war in the Gaza Strip. This is more than a messaging problem: Young voters have a substantive policy disagreement with the Biden administration about the most salient international issue of the last six months.
The administration seems to be hoping a pause on LNG approvals will help reverse that dismal momentum. Yet doing so will bring its own electoral risks. In November, Heatmap polled roughly 1,000 Americans about key climate issues. While we didn’t ask what Biden should do about natural gas pipelines specifically, we did ask a more wide-ranging question about the recent March to End Fossil Fuels, which drew tens of thousands of demonstrators to New York in September. Protesters demanded, among other things, that Biden suspend or revoke approvals for all new fossil-fuel infrastructure.
Here was our mouthful of a poll question:
In September, more than 50,000 people marched in New York City demanding that the Biden administration and Congress “end fossil fuels.” These activists want the Biden administration to stop all oil exports, block new oil and gas pipelines from being built, and ban any company from drilling on government-owned land. These policies would increase gasoline prices, but some scientists say they are essential to slowing down the dangerous increase in global temperatures. Do you support or oppose the Biden administration and Congress adopting policies aimed at permanently ending the oil, gas, and coal industries?
Respondents were split — and, frankly, confused. Forty-two percent of Americans opposed ending the fossil-fuel industry; 41% supported it. Nearly 20% of Americans said they were unsure what Biden and Congress should do. And while sunsetting the fossil fuel industry won majority support among Democrats and liberal independents, a plurality of moderate independents said they would oppose such a policy. Two-thirds of Republicans rejected it, too.
I will confess that I am not sure that the American public, in practice, is as split on taking aggressive steps to end the fossil-fuel industry as the poll finds. That’s because elsewhere in our poll, we found that 62% of Americans said they supported the federal government “making it easier to drill for fossil fuels and build new fossil fuel pipelines.” Some sizable percentage of voters seemingly want Biden both to support fossil fuels and kill fossil fuels — a logical impossibility.
But the results of the fossil fuel march question become more interesting — and more politically relevant, I think — when you break them out by age group. The young and the old, we found, were divided on the fossil fuel industry. Slightly more than half of adults aged 18 to 34 said Biden and Congress should work to shut it down. But most older adults, defined here as anyone 65 and older, opposed such a move.
When you look deeper beneath the hood, those results get even more complicated. Of the young adults who support ending the fossil-fuel industry, most said they were “somewhat” in support of the idea. But of the older adults who opposed it, a majority were “strongly” against the idea. In other words, the largest share of young people were weakly for ending the fossil-fuel industry, while the largest share of older people were strongly against it.
That poses a dilemma for Biden. While younger and middle-aged adults drive social media discourse and shape media coverage, it is the old who consistently show up to vote. In that way, the fossil-fuel industry is — like the Gaza war — a young/old scissor issue; it divides the electorate along age lines in a way guaranteed to alienate some part of the president’s coalition. (Of course, most older Americans won’t see much of the consequences of greenhouse gas pollution from fossil fuels in their lifetime — but that fact, while ethically relevant, does not have immediate electoral bearing.)
The one grace for the president is that the fossil-fuel issue doesn’t divide Democrats as much, per se; about two-thirds of older Democrats said that they would back a plan to shut down the oil and gas industry. Yet self-identified independents, whom the president must win in November, were more evenly split. There is no easy out.
McKibben has declared provisional victory over the issue. “Joe Biden has just done more than any president before him to check the expansion of dirty energy,” he wrote on X when the first unconfirmed reports broke. “This is the biggest check any president has ever applied to the fossil fuel industry, and the strongest move against dirty energy in American history,” he later elaborated. I will be curious if that message breaks through — it is an endorsement that I think many young voters would be surprised to hear.
Under Biden, Congress has passed the most aggressive climate legislation in U.S. history — not only in the form of the Inflation Reduction Act, with its tax incentives for clean energy, but also the bipartisan infrastructure law, which directed hundreds of billions to public transit and next-generation energy research. Yet instead of celebrating that victory, many climate-concerned young voters — or at least the environmentalist groups that purport to speak for them — spent much of 2023 fixated on the president’s approval of the Willow pipeline. While I’ve never seen a scientific sample, it’s pretty clear that the negative news about Willow broke through among young voters to a far greater extent than the positive news about the IRA, even though the IRA will reduce greenhouse gas emissions far more than the Willow pipeline will increase them.
With the LNG pause, the Biden administration has avoided another Willow “betrayal”-style story among the youngs. But it may also have invited negative coverage from other factions of the press — including business and energy analysts who doubt Howarth’s analyses and remain more equivocal about LNG. This is why this moment is such a test for climate activists: If they cannot generate a positive news cycle for the president at this moment — or rather, if they can’t convince young people that Biden has done something good on climate change — then their utility in the coalition will come into question.
Below all of this lurks a possibility that would be truly toxic for climate politics: that the social media-driven environment in which younger adults marinate can only direct attention to negative stories. What if X, Instagram, and TikTok generate outrage and nihilism far more easily than support and solidarity? That would be dangerous not only for climate politics, but also for the entire progressive agenda, which requires the public — perhaps above all — to believe in the possibility of mutual uplift and civic competency.
Biden is presiding over a country in profound transition, trying to manage and redirect subterranean rivers of history that — much to his campaign’s chagrin — remain well outside his control. The United States is stuck between two regimes, two economies: the fossil-fueled, Middle East-managing policy of old, and the clean, climate-friendlier, Asia-focused policy of the future. Voters are split, too. As much as Biden officials and young people might want to push the economy toward the latter, America keeps getting dragged back toward the former — by its economy, by its electorate, and by events themselves.
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Plus more venture capital musings on Day 4 of New York Climate Week.
It’s another hectic and productive Climate Week in New York City, full of discussions on topics ranging from electrification, to permitting reform (the latest: it’s going to wait until after the midterms), to energy security amid soaring oil and gas prices, to, inevitably, the ways the data center buildout is both helping and hurting climate tech companies and emissions targets alike.
As usual, cadres of venture capitalists descended on Midtown Manhattan, bringing with them the particular brand of optimism that venture inherently requires. They touted the potential synergies between cleantech and the artificial intelligence boom, bemoaned the persistent “missing middle” funding gap, and debated ways to talk about climate without actually saying the word climate. Through it all, a few core themes emerged.
The first was the inescapable truth that the American economy is being hugely buoyed by AI right now. At our Heatmap House event on Wednesday, I asked Gabriel Kra, co-founder of early-stage climate tech investment firm Prelude Ventures, about the successful IPOs of geothermal company Fervo and nuclear energy company X-Energy. I wondered aloud whether their ability to reach that milestone said less about broad cleantech enthusiasm than it did about their hyperscaler customer base and its desperation for clean, firm power.
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He was nonplussed. “So wait, you’re asking if the current IPOs are reflective of the current economic environment?” he joked (sort of). “It’s likely that this country is in a zero growth or recessionary environment without the capital expenditures and the economic growth being driven by those same hyperscalers. And those hyperscalers are driving the largest change in the demand for energy, the largest change in the demand for electricity that we have seen in like a century.”
Point taken.
Dawn Lippert, founder of the philanthropically funded nonprofit investment firm Elemental Impact and its offshoot venture fund, Earthshot Ventures, likewise emphasized the opportunity to ride AI’s momentum to deploy cleantech in and around data centers. Elemental recently launched the Data Center Innovation Initiative, a partnership between climate tech startups, philanthropic organizations, and four hyperscalers — Google, Microsoft, Amazon, and Meta — to fund and pilot solutions such as low-carbon building materials, energy efficiency infrastructure, cooling solutions, and energy storage.
“We all feel a little bit used by data centers,” Lippert told me onstage at Heatmap House. “We thought, how can you actually use data centers to do the things that we need to do as society? And pulling forward clean energy technologies and sustainable technologies is one of the most interesting ways that they can be a real service to society.”
But she admitted that the data center story has essentially bifurcated the climate tech industry into the haves and have-nots. “We certainly see this as a tale of two sectors.” She told me. On the other, less fortunate, side of the equation, she listed companies working on lowering emissions in the food and agriculture supply chain. While she didn’t name names, that could mean everything from alternative protein startups to companies working to curb cattle’s methane emissions or developing alternatives to synthetic fertilizers.
Nature-based solutions are also faring poorly in the current environment, Lippert told me. That could include carbon removal companies pursuing everything from reforestation to enhanced rock weathering. “I think we need much more catalytic capital to make sure that companies and really good innovations can weather this storm that we have,” she told me, referring to those being left behind as AI sucks all of the attention and money out of the room.
Another theme that emerged was pushback to the notion that backing infrastructure-intensive climate tech solutions is necessarily incompatible with traditional venture timelines — or that taking longer when needed somehow makes those investments less worthwhile.
“I am proving you can have exits of very substantial fund returners in less than 10 years,” Katie Rae, CEO of the MIT-affiliated VC Engine Ventures, told me onstage at Heatmap House. “So I don’t know, do I need a longer timeline than software needs? Looks like I don’t.” She currently sits on the board of a number of prominent climate tech startups, including long-duration storage company Form Energy and Commonwealth Fusion Systems. Many in the industry are speculating that both could go public in the next few years, potentially putting them just within the 10-year mark from Engine Ventures’ first seed check to exit.
At an event I moderated on Monday at fusion company Thea Energy’s New Jersey headquarters, investors in the four-year-old startup told the audience they’re perfectly willing to wait until the mid-2030s for Thea to put its first fusion electrons on the grid. “The thing that we came up against when we were underwriting Thea is something that you hear all the time with fusion,” Pete Mathias, a general partner at the early-stage firm Reveille VC, told me. “Oh, it’s going to take 10, 15, years. And oh, it’s going to take a billion dollars. Well, yeah, I mean, so did DoorDash. They raised $2.5 billion dollars to bring food to your doorstep.”
You could practically hear his eyes rolling at the comparable triviality. “So when you look on a relative basis what the mission of this company is, the scale of the opportunity, the durability of the product, the kilowatt-hour cost of energy — it’s a much more investable case.”
This year’s biggest energy IPOs, Fervo and X-Energy, also challenge the notion that profitability must precede public market success. “If you told me a geothermal company that had not produced commercial electricity and a nuclear company that had not produced any commercial electricity were about to be multi-billion-dollar public companies [...] and tried to raise money from me five or 10 years ago, based on that premise, I would have said you’re crazy,” Kra told me.
In fact, both companies have stated in SEC filings that they expect to continue racking up losses for years, as any fusion company thinking about going public anytime soon would likely do, as well. But much like Fervo and X-Energy’s earliest backers, public market investors bought into the company’s forward-looking vision. “And why could they believe that story?” Kra asked. “They had customers who were willing to pay them money for their product,” he said. Simple as that. Fervo’s early customers include Southern California Edison and Google, while X-Energy plans to sell power to chemical producer Dow and Amazon.
Back at Thea’s event, Mathias threw additional cold water on the idea that traditional venture timelines and the intimidating cost of big infrastructure buildouts should dictate the viability of companies with the potential to fundamentally reshape society. “I thought Climate Week is all about, 100 years from now Planet Earth is on fire,” he said to the crowd. “What is the cost of that? It seems pretty high.”
A few other tidbits of note:
The bipartisan proposal from the House Science Committee comes with the backing of the Fusion Industry Association.
The nuclear fusion industry has been asking for a $10 billion investment from the U.S. government. Now, there’s a bipartisan coalition in Congress ready to give it to them.
On Thursday, Californians Zoe Lofgren, ranking member of the House Science Committee, and Jay Obernolte, chair of the body’s Subcommittee on Research and Technology, introduced the American Leadership in Fusion Act, which would pump some $10 billion into the industry to commercialize the frontier nuclear energy technology.
The $10 billion number was not pulled out of a hat (or a stellarator). The Fusion Industry Association called for a “one-time $10 billion injection of U.S. public capital into efforts and partnerships with the private fusion industry” late last year, a figure the group said was based on analyses from the National Academies of Science and a Department of Energy advisory committee.
“Fusion is the future, and this bipartisan bill is a major step in capitalizing on the promise of its emission-free power,” Lofgren said in a statement. “This bill will unleash a new era of fusion energy development in the United States.”
At our Heatmap House event at New York Climate Week on Wednesday, Commonwealth Fusion Systems CEO Bob Mumgaard acknowledged that $10 billion is a lot of money, but “you have to say what gets the job done. It’s a disservice to lowball what is needed. It’s this very important thing — it’s an entire new industry. Let’s treat it as such.”
The fusion industry hasn’t necessarily been hurting for private capital. In July, the FIA reported that 56 companies had raised almost $4.5 billion in the past year. CFS alone announced $1 billion of new funding in July, bringing its total investment up to $4 billion. Of the over $14 billion the industry has raised, almost a third has gone to CFS.
Whether this federal funding ever materializes remains to be seen. A Department of Energy official poured cold water on the $10 billion figure in July, telling the industry that the figure wasn’t plausible, according to Politico.
Obernolte and Lofgren’s bill would split the $10 billion into several pots all aimed at commercializing fusion technology, which has been the subject of university and scientific consortium research for decades.
The biggest chunk, almost $4 billion, would be devoted to building test facilities to work on materials and fuel. Another $2 billion would be put into the existing “milestone-based development program,” established by 2020’s Energy Act and expanded in the 2022 CHIPS and Science Act, which links funding to preset scientific and business targets. CFS has won funding through this program, as have seven other companies including Thea Energy and Tokamak Energy. Another $3 billion in the bill would go to a new demonstration program, analogous to the existing Advanced Reactor Demonstration Program for fission projects, which would probably involve fewer awards for bigger projects that require substantial cost sharing.
While it’s unlikely that this bill could become law this Congress, considering that the House of Representatives has left town to campaign for the midterms, fusion legislation typically garners bipartisan support. The ADVANCE Act, which included regulatory language easing fusion’s regulatory pathway, was signed into law in 2024 after passing the Senate in an 88-2 vote. It is unlikely, Democratic committee staff acknowledged, that the bill get a vote this Congress, but it could start momentum towards a bipartisan fusion bill in a future Congress.
Science Committee staff have been working on the American Leadership in Fusion Act since earlier this year, soliciting advice from national labs, universities, and companies working on fusion technology. The bill has won the endorsement of fusion industry heavyweights like CFS, the Fusion Industry Association, and several energy policy nonprofits and universities, including the Clean Air Task Force and ClearPath Action.
And it’s not crazy to expect the administration to take an interest in the bill, either, considering the latter’s bipartisan backing and alignment with the former’s own stated goals, a senior Democratic committee staffer told me.
Earlier this year, the Department of Energy released a Fusion Science and Technology Roadmap, which “aims to usher a burgeoning U.S. fusion industry toward maturity on the most rapid, credible timeline” including through “leveraging public and private sector investments.”
Third Way’s head of climate and energy argues that both sides have lost voters’ trust, with serious consequences for our infrastructure.
In September 2024, then-presidential candidate Donald Trump told a crowd in Wilmington: “We will cut your energy prices in half … Mark it down, and you can get very angry at me if we don't do it.” He gave himself one year from when he’d take office.
Two years later, rates are up. And we’re angry.
Utilities requested $18.6 billion in rate increases in the first half of 2026, including a record $9.2 billion in the second quarter alone. Gas prices are hovering close to $4.50 a gallon, almost a full dollar more than this time last year. Diesel prices are even worse, recently passing $6.50 a gallon, up by over 50% from one year ago.
In the past two years, electricity prices have increased by over 10%. In the past five years, it’s over 36%.
President Trump’s failure to lower costs has tanked his approval ratings, currently just 34% overall and 33% on his handling of the economy. But he’s not alone. Incumbent politicians across the country — along with utilities, energy-intensive businesses, and tech companies — have found themselves swept up in the backlash.
Those feelings of blame and distrust have emanated throughout our democracy. Just 27% of Americans trust national institutions, according to a June Gallup poll, a single point above the all-time low. Just 17% trust the federal government to do what's right. Nearly seven in 10 people fear that institutional leaders are deliberately misleading them.
Looking at our energy infrastructure, I understand the feeling. Government and industry have chronically neglected our electricity delivery system, offering impossible-to-fulfill slogans rather than real solutions.
Over the past four years, this has created what I’m calling the Energy Trust Gap. It results from the toxic collision of an aging, neglected, and overstressed grid; rising prices; and voter frustration with policymakers, regulators, and industries that overpromise and underdeliver.
This is not merely a Trump problem, though it is true that the president’s chaotic tariff strategy, his impossibly stupid war in Iran, and his senseless energy obstruction have dramatically widened this rift.
Instead of deploying more energy to the grid, the Trump administration has blocked renewables when Americans need them most. It paid TotalEnergies $928 million and Invenergy $765 million to abandon offshore wind leases — $1.7 billion of public money not to build power. Through the Pentagon, it has halted over 28 gigawatts of onshore wind projects in 21 states, and attempted to suspend five fully permitted projects already under construction. Thankfully, all five won injunctions and resumed development by February. Still, the industry's trade association estimated that the cancellations and delays would add $45 billion in East Coast energy costs over a decade.
Though a federal appeals court recently ruled against it, the administration was also using emergency authority to keep 11 fossil units at seven plants running at a cost of roughly $1.5 million per day. The evidence is quite weak that these units are necessary to maintain grid stability or meet unexpected demand. Some are producing substantially less power than they can, or have even been taken offline.
But the Energy Trust Gap has not been created by Republicans alone. Here is the part my side needs to sit with.
In 2022, then-President Biden promised that the Inflation Reduction Act would “bring down family energy bills by an average of $500 a year.” The White House projected that, alongside the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, the IRA would cut electricity rates by up to 9% by 2030. Advocates promised the law would create “more than 9 million good jobs.”
The Trump administration undid some of the efforts to fulfill these promises before they could bear fruit. But others were flimsy from the start.
An accompanying report on the 9 million jobs figure acknowledged, in a footnote, that “not all of the jobs created will be net new employment,” but rather would constitute workers hired away from elsewhere to remedy a tight labor market. It also clarified that “job” was less accurate than “job-year equivalent,” a technical measure of labor volume rather than individual people holding durable positions.
These caveats never made it into the president’s public comments, including at events I helped host.
We expected the government to spur private sector demand and create jobs across the country. We assumed the public would see the benefits and credit our clean energy policies. But voters didn’t see an IRA-driven jobs boom in their communities, didn’t feel its impact in reducing costs amid a crisis, and didn’t see it improving their lives.
Yes, there were jobs. But in an economy as large as the United States, the public simply doesn’t distinguish “clean energy jobs” from other sectors.
The promise of a national electric charging network to enable EV ownership didn’t pan out, either. Congress made $4.4 billion available for chargers in 2022; four years later, states had opened only around 150 public charging stations, a flop for a program designed to fund about 1,600 stations on the path to phasing out gas vehicles. Same story with home heating. The American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy found that in all four high-electricity-price states it modeled, the average gas household's bills increased after electrification.
When heating homes already accounts for more than 40% of residential energy consumption, you cannot credibly advocate for more expensive options.
These functional failures were also messaging failures. By 2024, 40% of registered voters hadn’t heard anything about the IRA. Governors got more credit for new renewable energy and green manufacturing facilities than President Biden did, according to a post-mortem on the law led by the University of Michigan’s Alexander Gazmararian. The Biden administration placed a big political bet on actions that were misbranded, inadequately promoted, and ultimately undeliverable before November 2024 — the only timeframe that mattered.
Let me be clear: The Energy Trust Gap will cost Democrats elections.
As policymakers head into November’s midterm elections, they are being called upon to answer for the proliferation of data centers and the skyrocketing cost of electricity. In this moment, Democrats could seize momentum from Republicans. But many are still ignoring the lessons of the past four years.
A large number of voters believe clean energy advocates are exaggerating the affordability of renewable energy. If candidates argue that the transition to clean energy is a guaranteed outcome, and that Biden’s climate law worked, they will lose.
Reality is breaking through in some places: Officials are concerned about the cost-of-living crisis, explicitly acknowledging the trade-offs that come with climate policy and prioritizing affordability for ratepayers above all else. In March, for example, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey signed an executive order to bring more energy and energy storage to the Bay State, calling for an “all-of-the-above approach to energy, including “solar, wind, gas, nuclear and hydro.” In New York, Governor Kathy Hochul has been honest that the state cannot meet its 2030 climate targets “without imposing new and additional crushing costs,” citing state estimates of more than $4,000 a year for upstate households burning oil and gas.
“Something has to give,” she said.
That honesty is critical. Policymakers, clean energy and climate advocates, and industry cannot fix the issues plaguing our energy system without regaining some credibility.
Here’s where I would start:
This is the uncomfortable but necessary path to closing the Energy Trust Gap. The alternative is more broken promises and putting our ambitions for energy, the economy, national security, and climate completely out of reach.
If policymakers can’t be straightforward about the trade-offs and deliver on their solutions, we’ll doom ourselves to policy whipsawing and another energy crisis.
Then another. Then another. Then another.