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Whether that will matter in November is another story.

As President Joe Biden prepares to run for re-election, one fact has eluded much notice: His climate change policies are pretty popular.
In an exclusive Heatmap poll of 1,000 Americans conducted by Benenson Strategy Group late last year, most respondents backed the core ideas behind Biden’s climate policies. They expressed the most support of ideas meant to beef up the country’s manufacturing economy and build more renewable electricity.
Nearly 90% of Americans, for instance, support encouraging domestic manufacturing. They also support using tax incentives to make homes more energy efficient (85%), funding research into carbon dioxide removal (81%), investing in public transit (80%), and implementing policies that address environmental injustices (78%).
That is despite the overwhelming public disappointment in Biden. Biden’s approval rating has fallen to 37%, an all-time low of his presidency, despite his boisterous State of the Union performance. At first glance, Biden’s climate policy might seem to pose a paradox: It’s really popular (at least facially), but nobody has seemed to notice. That may persist through the November election. But it will not be able to last for too long after that.
The least popular policies are those that Biden has pursued only when he has bipartisan support — or that he has not pursued at all. Making it easier to build new fossil fuel pipelines, for instance, is supported by 62% of Americans, less than almost any other policy aimed at increasing the country’s energy supply. A slight majority of Americans support making it easier to build new nuclear power plants.
At first I doubted the veracity of these results — some of Biden’s policies are, after all, putting up autocrat-like ratings. A carbon tax is polling 52 points above water.
But these results largely match other polling. Surveys reliably find that about two-thirds of Americans would support some kind of carbon tax. Last year, for instance, 68%of Americans backed “requiring fossil fuel companies to pay a carbon tax,” according to a Yale poll. These numbers have been remarkably stable over time. As much as 67% of Americans backed a carbon tax in 2019, according to a poll from the University of Chicago and the Associated Press-NORC Center on Public Affairs Research.
If these numbers surprise you, you’re not alone. Most Americans underestimate public support for pro-climate policies. (Or at least, they underestimate what polling finds about Americans’ support for climate policies.)
The rub is that public support descends to more Earthly levels once you start asking about concrete costs. Those who say they support a carbon tax when told it will be imposed on fossil fuel companies, for instance, may change their minds after fossil fuel companies pass that tax along as higher prices. Another University of Chicago poll found that most Americans were okay paying a monthly fee of $1 to fight climate change. When asked if they’d pay $40 a month, support fell to 23%.
One of the more ironic aspects of Biden’s success is how rapidly commentators have forgotten that climate change policy used to be seen as uniquely difficult to legislate in the United States. In 1993, and then again in 2010, the House of Representatives passed bills that would have helped fight climate change. Each time, the Senate blocked the legislation. The Senate also effectively blocked the adoption of the Kyoto Protocol, the first international climate treaty, in the 1990s.
Through the decades, Congress passed energy bills meant to expand the energy supply in an all-of-the-above way and changed the tax code to let people and companies save money by building solar or wind energy. But these policies expired every few years, and they failed to amount to a unified climate strategy.
Other countries with other forms of government — China, the United Kingdom, the European Union member states — didn’t have this problem. (Which doesn’t mean that they’ve been perfect on climate change.) America’s failure to pass climate policy became a singular indictment of its bicameral system.
Why was it so hard to pass climate policy? The short answer is that for years, climate advocates focused on one particular policy — carbon pricing — as a cure-all solution to climate change. And while carbon pricing is backed up by economic theory, environmentalists and economists struggled to generate the kind of durable, veto-proof support that legislation needs to pass in today’s environment.
By design, carbon pricing raises the cost of energy — meaning that opponents can paint it as a measure meant to increase the cost of living. That didn’t work for voters in the persistently sluggish economy of the 2010s, and it split Democrats’ coalition — of college-educated liberals and lower-income workers — in half. (It also struggled to deal with the political mise en scene. Washington’s interest in climate policy has usually peaked during moments of high energy prices, but the past decade’s fracking boom kept a lid on oil and natural gas prices.)
But climate advocates also struggled for years against more political-economic obstacles. As the political scientist Matto Mildenberger documented, climate proposals have historically invited pro-business groups and labor unions to team up and fight a common enemy. Because climate policy targeted entire industries at once — and because these industries were, naturally, especially sensitive to wholesale energy prices — environmentalists had to take on labor and management at the same time.
It didn’t help that many of the industries concerned had a special claim to Democrats’ sensibilities. Until recently, many of the sectors most affected by climate policy were unionized at a higher rate than the average. Even today, more than 20% of utility workers belong to a union, for example, as compared to 6% of workers in the private sector. These rates were even higher in the recent past. About 16% of automaking workers are represented by unions today, but union membership stood at 60% within living memory. Even in 2010, about one in 10 American workers in the mining, quarrying, and fossil-fuel extraction industries were represented by a union, which was also above the national rate at the time.
Democrats dealt with these problems by abandoning most broad-scale attempts to tax fossil fuels. During the Trump administration, progressives chose to focus instead on using industrial policy and regulations to rein in carbon-intensive sectors — instead of raising the cost of fossil fuels, perhaps a climate law could lower the cost of clean alternatives. And instead of raising energy prices — thereby annoying voters and discouraging high-profile industries — perhaps policy could lower them. Hence the Inflation Reduction Act.
This approach succeeded! And yet many of the IRA’s policies have struggled to attract public attention. Even though the IRA is Biden’s signature legislative achievement — comparable to President Barack Obama’s Affordable Care Act — Biden has largely avoided the specific backlash that greeted that law. Obamacare was about 10 points underwater in 2010, even as Obama himself was about as popular as he was unpopular. Biden, by contrast, is incredibly disliked — he is now 17 points underwater, a nadir for his presidency — yet the IRA’s core ideas remain well-liked.
That is politically inconvenient for Biden and it raises difficult long-term questions for progressives. Biden and Democrats have seemingly given voters what they want — and it’s not clear that the voters care.
But for the would-be Grover Cleveland to Biden's Benjamin Harrison, it might be more of a problem. If elected, Trump has promised to repeal parts of the Inflation Reduction Act. His rhetoric on climate change hasn’t really changed since the 2016 election, when he argued that it was “job-killing.” Meanwhile, he hates electric vehicles, claiming that “they don’t go far, they cost too much, and they’re all going to be made in China.”
Yet it’s the electric vehicles made in America that are going to get him. If Trump repeals the IRA’s subsidies, then domestic manufacturing will suffer. The EV industry has created roughly 70,000 jobs over the past three years, and many of those roles are in electorally decisive states, including Georgia and Michigan. Trump has promised to act as a “Day One dictator,” but even then, he will still be at least partly constrained by the desires and interests of the local and state-level Republicans who support him — and they will need those jobs and investment to continue.
Of course, there’s no guarantee that these policies will produce political support. In Texas, an explosion of renewable construction has led not to surging public support for clean energy, but to a state-led “war” on wind and solar. (That said, renewables don’t generate local jobs and economic activity in the same long-term way that factories do.) Yet these policies don’t ever have to be popular to be durable — in part because voters won’t organize around them until they’re threatened. Biden’s climate policies — no matter how popular — will probably never win him reelection. But they could very well protect his legacy long after he’s gone.
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Lawmakers today should study the Energy Security Act of 1980.
The past few years have seen wild, rapid swings in energy policy in the United States, from President Biden’s enthusiastic embrace of clean energy to President Trump’s equally enthusiastic re-embrace of fossil fuels.
Where energy industrial policy goes next is less certain than any other moment in recent memory. Regardless of the direction, however, we will need creative and effective policy tools to secure our energy future — especially for those of us who wish to see a cleaner, greener energy system. To meet the moment, we can draw inspiration from a largely forgotten piece of energy industrial policy history: the Energy Security Act of 1980.
After a decade of oil shocks and energy crises spanning three presidencies, President Carter called for — and Congress passed — a new law that would “mobilize American determination and ability to win the energy war.” To meet that challenge, lawmakers declared their intent “to utilize to the fullest extent the constitutional powers of the Congress” to reduce the nation’s dependence on imported oil and shield the economy from future supply shocks. Forty-five years later, that brief moment of determined national mobilization may hold valuable lessons for the next stage of our energy industrial policy.
The 1970s were a decade of energy volatility for Americans, with spiking prices and gasoline shortages, as Middle Eastern fossil fuel-producing countries wielded the “oil weapon” to throttle supply. In his 1979 “Crisis of Confidence” address to the nation, Carter warned that America faced a “clear and present danger” from its reliance on foreign oil and urged domestic producers to mobilize new energy sources, akin to the way industry responded to World War II by building up a domestic synthetic rubber industry.
To develop energy alternatives, Congress passed the Energy Security Act, which created a new government-run corporation dedicated to investing in alternative fuels projects, a solar bank, and programs to promote geothermal, biomass, and renewable energy sources. The law also authorized the president to create a system of five-year national energy targets and ordered one of the federal government’s first studies on the impacts of greenhouse gases from fossil fuels.
Carter saw the ESA as the beginning of an historic national mission. “[T]he Energy Security Act will launch this decade with the greatest outpouring of capital investment, technology, manpower, and resources since the space program,” he said at the signing. “Its scope, in fact, is so great that it will dwarf the combined efforts expended to put Americans on the Moon and to build the entire Interstate Highway System of our country.” The ESA was a recognition that, in a moment of crisis, the federal government could revive the tools it once used in wartime to meet an urgent civilian challenge.
In its pursuit of energy security, the Act deployed several remarkable industrial policy tools, with the Synthetic Fuels Corporation as the centerpiece. The corporation was a government-run investment bank chartered to finance — and in some cases, directly undertake — alternative fuels projects, including those derived from coal, shale, and oil.. Regardless of the desirability or feasibility of synthetic fuels, the SFC as an institution illustrates the type of extraordinary authority Congress was once willing to deploy to address energy security and stand up an entirely new industry. It operated outside of federal agencies, unencumbered by the normal bureaucracy and restrictions that apply to government.
Along with everything else created by the ESA, the Sustainable Fuels Corporation was also financed by a windfall profits tax assessed on oil companies, essentially redistributing income from big oil toward its nascent competition. Both the law and the corporation had huge bipartisan support, to the tune of 317 votes for the ESA in the House compared to 93 against, and 78 to 12 in the Senate.
The Synthetic Fuels Corporation was meant to be a public catalyst where private investment was unlikely to materialize on its own. Investors feared that oil prices could fall, or that OPEC might deliberately flood the market to undercut synthetic fuels before they ever reached scale. Synthetic fuel projects were also technically complex, capital-intensive undertakings, with each plant costing several billion dollars, requiring up to a decade to plan and build.
To address this, Congress equipped the corporation with an unusually broad set of tools. The corporation could offer loans, loan guarantees, price guarantees, purchase agreements, and even enter joint ventures — forms of support meant to make first-of-a-kind projects bankable. It could assemble financing packages that traditional lenders viewed as too risky. And while the corporation was being stood up, the president was temporarily authorized to use Defense Production Act powers to initiate early synthetic fuel projects. Taken together, these authorities amounted to a federal attempt to build an entirely new energy industry.
While the ESA gave the private sector the first shot at creating a synthetic fuels industry, it also created opportunities for the federal government to invest. The law authorized the Synthetic Fuels Corporation to undertake and retain ownership over synthetic fuels construction projects if private investment was insufficient to meet production targets. The SFC was also allowed to impose conditions on loans and financial assistance to private developers that gave it a share of project profits and intellectual property rights arising out of federally-funded projects. Congress was not willing to let the national imperative of energy security rise or fall on the whims of the market, nor to let the private sector reap publicly-funded windfalls.
Employing logic that will be familiar to many today, Carter was particularly concerned that alternative fuel sources would be unduly delayed by permitting rules and proposed an Energy Mobilization Board to streamline the review process for energy projects. Congress ultimately refused to create it, worried it would trample state authority and environmental protections. But the impulse survived elsewhere. At a time when the National Environmental Policy Act was barely 10 years old and had become the central mechanism for scrutinizing major federal actions, Congress provided an exemption for all projects financed by the Synthetic Fuels Corporation, although other technologies supported in the law — like geothermal energy — were still required to go through NEPA review. The contrast is revealing — a reminder that when lawmakers see an energy technology as strategically essential, they have been willing not only to fund it but also to redesign the permitting system around it.
Another forgotten feature of the corporation is how far Congress went to ensure it could actually hire top tier talent. Lawmakers concluded that the federal government’s standard pay scales were too low and too rigid for the kind of financial, engineering, and project development expertise the Synthetic Fuels Corporation needed. So it gave the corporation unusual salary flexibility, allowing it to pay above normal civil service rates to attract people with the skills to evaluate multibillion dollar industrial projects. In today’s debates about whether federal agencies have the capacity to manage complex clean energy investments, this detail is striking. Congress once knew that ambitious industrial policy requires not just money, but people who understand how deals get done.
But the Energy Security Act never had the chance to mature. The corporation was still getting off the ground when Carter lost the 1980 election to Ronald Reagan. Reagan’s advisers viewed the project as a distortion of free enterprise — precisely the kind of government intervention they believed had fueled the broader malaise of the 1970s. While Reagan had campaigned on abolishing the Department of Energy, the corporation proved an easier and more symbolic target. His administration hollowed it out, leaving it an empty shell until Congress defunded it entirely in 1986.
At the same time, the crisis atmosphere that had justified the Energy Security Act began to wane. Oil prices fell nearly 60% during Reagan’s first five years, and with them the political urgency behind alternative fuels. Drained of its economic rationale, the synthetic fuels industry collapsed before it ever had a chance to prove whether it could succeed under more favorable conditions. What had looked like a wartime mobilization suddenly appeared to many lawmakers to be an expensive overreaction to a crisis that had passed.
Yet the ESA’s legacy is more than an artifact of a bygone moment. It offers at least three lessons that remain strikingly relevant today:
As we now scramble to make up for lost time, today’s clean energy push requires institutions that can survive electoral swings. Nearly half a century after the ESA, we must find our way back to that type of institutional imagination to meet the energy challenges we still face.
On Google’s energy glow up, transmission progress, and South American oil
Current conditions: Nearly two dozen states from the Rockies through the Midwest and Appalachians are forecast to experience temperatures up to 30 degrees above historical averages on Christmas Day • Parts of northern New York and New England could get up to a foot of snow in the coming days • Bethlehem, the West Bank city south of Jerusalem in which Christians believe Jesus was born, is preparing for a sunny, cloudless Christmas Day, with temperatures around 60 degrees Fahrenheit.
This is our last Heatmap AM of 2025, but we’ll see you all again in 2026!
Just two weeks after a federal court overturned President Donald Trump’s Day One executive order banning new offshore wind permits, the administration announced a halt to all construction on seaward turbines. Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum announced the move Monday morning on X: “Due to national security concerns identified by @DeptofWar, @Interior is PAUSING leases for 5 expensive, unreliable, heavily subsidized offshore wind farms!” As Heatmap’s Jael Holzman explained in her writeup, there are only five offshore wind projects currently under construction in U.S. waters: Vineyard Wind, Revolution Wind, Coastal Virginia Offshore Wind, Sunrise Wind, and Empire Wind. “The Department of War has come back conclusively that the issues related to these large offshore wind programs create radar interference, create genuine risk for the U.S., particularly related to where they are in proximity to our East Coast population centers,” Burgum told Fox Business host Maria Bartiromo.
The new blanket policy is likely to slow progress on passing the big bipartisan federal permitting reform bill. The SPEED Act (if you need an explainer, read this one from Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo) passed in the House last week. But key Senate Democrats said they would not champion a bill with provisions they might otherwise support unless the legislation curbed federal agencies’ power to yank already-granted permits, a move clearly meant to thwart Trump’s “total war on wind.” Republican leaders in the House stripped the measure out at the last moment. On Monday afternoon, the senators called the SPEED Act “dead in the water.”
The Department of the Interior and the Forest Service greenlit the 500-kilovolt Cross-Tie transmission project to carry electricity 217 miles between substations in Utah and Nevada. Dubbed the “missing pathway” between two states with fast-growing solar and geothermal industries, the power line had previously won support from a Biden-era program at the Department of Energy’s Grid Deployment Office. Last week, the federal agencies approved a right-of-way for a route that crosses the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest and public land controlled by the Interior Department’s Bureau of Land Management. In a press release directing the public to official documents, the bureau said the project “supports the administration’s priority to strengthen the reliability and security of the United States electric grid.”
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Google parent Alphabet bought the data center and energy infrastructure developer Intersect for nearly $5 billion in cash. Google had already held a minority stake in the company. But the deal, which also includes assuming debt, allows the tech behemoth to “expand capacity, operate more nimbly in building new power generation in lockstep with new data center load, and reimagine energy solutions to drive U.S. innovation and leadership,” Sundair Pichai, the chief executive of Alphabet and Google, said in a statement.
The acquisition comes as Google steps up its energy development, with deals to commercialize all kinds of nascent energy technologies, including next-generation nuclear reactors, fusion, and geothermal. The company, as Heatmap's Matthew Zeitlin noted this morning, has also hired a team of widely respected experts to advance its energy work, including the researcher Tyler Norris and and the Texas grid analyst Doug Lewin. But Monday’s deal wowed industry watchers. “Damn, big tech is now just straight up acquiring power developers to scale up data centers faster,” Aniruddh Mohan, an electricity analyst at The Brattle Group consultancy, remarked on X. In response, the researcher Isaac Orr joked: “Next they buy out the utilities themselves.”
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The long duration energy storage developer Hydrostor has won final approval from California regulators for a 500-megawatt advanced compressed air energy storage project capable of pumping out eight hours of continuous discharge to the grid. With the thumbs up from the California Energy Commission, the Willow Rock Energy Storage Center will be “shovel ready” next year. The technology works by using electricity from wind and solar to power a compressor that pushes air into an underground cavern, displacing water, then capturing the heat generated during the compression and storing the energy in the pressurized chamber. When the energy is discharged, the water pressure forces the air up, and the excess heat warms the expanding air, driving a turbine to generate electricity. The plant would be Hydrostor’s first facility in the U.S. The company has another “late-stage” development underway in Australia, and 7 gigawatts of projects in the pipeline worldwide.

The world is awash in oil and prices are on track to keep falling as rising supply outstrips demand. At just 0.8 million barrels per day, predictions for growth in 2026 are the lowest in the last four years. But Brazil, Guyana, and Argentina will account for at least half of the expected global increase in production of crude. In its latest forecast, the U.S. Energy Information Administration said the three South American nations will account for 0.4 million barrels per day of the 0.8 million spike projected for 2026. The three countries — oddly enough one of the only potential trios on the mostly Spanish-speaking continent with three distinct languages, given Brazil’s Portuguese and Guyana’s English — comprised 28% of all global growth in 2025.
A fungal blight that gets worse as temperatures rise is killing conifers, including Christmas trees. But scientists at Mississippi State University have discovered a unique Leyland cypress tree at a Louisiana farm with a resistance to Passalora sequoia, the fast-spreading disease that attacks the needles of evergreens. In a statement, Jeff Wilson, an associate professor of ornamental horticulture at Mississippi State University, said that, prior to the study, “there had not been any research on Christmas trees in Mississippi since the late ‘70s or early ‘80s, but there is a real need for the research today.” May all your endeavors in the new year be as curious, civic-minded, and fruitful as that. Wishing you all a merry Christmas, happy New Year, and what I hope is a restful time off until we return to your inbox in January.
The hyperscaler is going big on human intelligence to help power its artificial intelligence.
Google is on an AI hiring spree — and not just for people who can design chips and build large language models. The tech giant wants people who can design energy systems, too.
Google has invested heavily of late in personnel for its electricity and infrastructure-related teams. Among its key hires is Tyler Norris, a former Duke University researcher and one of the most prominent proponents of electricity demand flexibility for data centers, who started in November as “head of market innovation” on the advanced energy team. The company also hired Doug Lewin, an energy consultant and one of the most respected voices in Texas energy policy, to lead “energy strategy and market design work in Texas,” according to a note he wrote on LinkedIn. Nathan Iyer, who worked on energy policy issues at RMI, has been a contractor for Google Clean Energy for about a year. (The company also announced Monday that it’s shelling out $4.5 billion to acquire clean energy developer Intersect.)
“To me, it’s unsurprising. I love the work of all the people they’ve been hiring,” Peter Freed, a former Meta energy executive and the founder of Near Horizon Group, told me. “Google has always been willing to do bleeding edge stuff — that’s one of the cool things about Google.”
Google declined to comment on its staffing moves, but other figures who have extensive energy experience argued that working at a big energy buyer like Google is a necessary step to becoming a well-rounded energy pro.
“I think that evangelists, technologists, compliance officers, and visionaries all have to be one and the same person, or a small gathering of a few people who can have and share all of those roles simultaneously,” Arushi Sharma Frank, an energy industry consultant and investor, told me of Google’s recent hiring push. She also told me that Spencer Cummings, the deputy chief digital officer at the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, will soon join Google’s public service team, posting about the hire on LinkedIn. (Cummings himself did not respond to a request for comment.)
The spate of hiring suggests that Google sees its data center buildout and its longstanding clean energy goals as intertwined, and is throwing all the talent it can at the problem in an attempt to avoid unnecessary greenhouse gas emissions.
Google has been developing clean energy resources for almost 20 years, and has long been one of the most aggressive and innovative tech giants in creating new financial and legal structures to help support them.
After first matching its annual energy usage with renewable output in 2017, the company has since upped its goal, aiming to match its hour-by-hour energy use in the areas where its operations are actually located. This means making investments beyond wind and solar into more capital intensive and complex power generation, projects such as geothermal or even advanced nuclear.
At the same time, big tech companies are already facing political blowback from their buildouts of multi-billion-dollar, gigawatt-scale data centers for artificial intelligence at a time of rising electricity prices. Google has also been a leader in attempting to head off those issues, including by contracting with utilities to commit to paying the transmission costs over the long term so that they don’t get spread to the rest of a utility’s customers. Another way might be to have data centers work more intermittently, at times when the grid is least stressed, and thus not increase peak demand — i.e. the method Norris has proposed.
Google’s recent hiring indicates that these are strategies it will continue to refine as its data center buildout moves forward. Norris wrote on X that he’ll “be focused on identifying and advancing innovations to better enable electricity markets to accommodate AI-driven demand and clean energy technologies.” Lewin, meanwhile, said that his remit will be “creating and implementing strategies to integrate data centers into the grid in ways that lower costs for all energy consumers while strengthening the grid.”
That Google is after energy talent in Texas should be no surprise — the company is planning to invest some $40 billion in Texas alone through 2027, Google chief executive Sundar Pichai wrote on LinkedIn.
“In general, all of the tech companies are so flat out trying to deliver any megawatt of data center capacity they possibly can,” Freed said.
In its most recent quarter alone, Google’s parent company Alphabet spent $24 billion on capital expenditures, the “vast majority” of which was “technical infrastructure” split between servers, data centers, and networking equipment, Anat Ashkenazi, Alphabet’s chief financial officer, said in the company’s third quarter earnings call in October. Ashkenazi said that full-year capital expenditures would be between $91 billion and $95 billion this year — and that 2026 would see a “significant increase.”
That spending “will continue to put pressure” on profits, Ashkenazi said, and specifically called “related data center operation costs, such as energy” a factor in that.
The data center buildout also puts more pressure on Google’ sustainability goals. “While we remain committed to our climate moonshots, it’s become clear that achieving them is now more complex and challenging across every level,” the company said in its 2025 environmental report. The issue, Google said, was a mismatch between accelerating demand for energy and available supply of the clean stuff.
The “rapid evolution of AI” — an evolution that is being actively spurred on by Google — “may drive non-linear growth in energy demand, which makes our future energy needs and emissions trajectories more difficult to predict,” the company said in the report. As for clean energy, “a key challenge is the slower-than-needed deployment of carbon-free energy technologies at scale, and getting there by 2030 will be very difficult.”
It’s not lost on people — okay, not lost on me — that many of these Google hires are some of the most prominent voices in energy and electricity policy today, with largely independent platforms now being absorbed into a $3.7 trillion company. But while this might be a loss for the media industry as the roster of experts available for us to consult gets absorbed into the Googleplex, it’s likely a good thing for energy policy development overall, Sharma Frank said.
“I think that we are under-indexing in this country largely on how important it actually is for strong public voices to go inside impact-creation companies," she told me, adding — “and then for those companies to eventually release those people back out into the wild so that they can drive impact in new ways.”