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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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On Thacker Pass, the Bonneville Power Administration, and Azerbaijan’s offshore wind
Current conditions: New York City is bracing for triple-digit heat in some parts of the five boroughs this week • The warm-up along the East Coast could worsen the drought parching the country’s southeastern shores • After Sunday reached 95 degrees Fahrenheit in the war-ravaged Gaza, temperatures in the Palestinian enclave are dropping back into the 80s and 70s all week.
Assuming world peace is something you find aspirational, here’s the good news: By all accounts, President Donald Trump’s two-day summit in Beijing with Chinese President Xi Jinping went well. Here’s the bad news: The energy crisis triggered by the Iran War is entering a grim new phase. Nearly 80 countries have now instituted emergency measures as the world braces for slow but long-predicted reverberations of the most severe oil shock in modern history. With demand for air conditioning and summer vacations poised to begin in the northern hemisphere’s summer, already-strained global supplies of crude oil, gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel will grow scarcer as the United States and Iran mutually blockade the Strait of Hormuz and halt virtually all tanker shipments from each other’s allies. “We are taking that outcome very seriously,” Paul Diggle, the chief economist at fund manager Aberdeen, told the Financial Times, noting that his team was now considering scenarios where Brent crude shoots up to $180 a barrel from $109 a barrel today. “We are living on borrowed time.”
The weekend brought a grave new energy concern over the conflict’s kinetic warfare. On Sunday, the United Arab Emirates condemned a drone strike it referred to as a “treacherous terrorist attack” that caused a fire near Abu Dhabi’s Barakah nuclear station. The UAE’s top English-language newspaper, The National, noted that the government’s official statement did not blame Iran explicitly. The attack came just a day after the International Atomic Energy Agency raised the alarm over drone strikes near nuclear plants after a swarm of more than 160 drones hovered near key stations in Ukraine last week.
We are apparently now entering the megamerger phase of the new electricity supercycle. On Friday, the Financial Times broke news that NextEra Energy is in talks with rival Dominion Energy for a tie-up that would create a more than $400 billion utility behemoth in one of the biggest deals of all time. The merger talks, which The Wall Street Journal confirmed, could be announced as early as this week. The combined company would reach from Dominion’s homebase of Virginia, where the northern half of the state is serving as what the FT called “the heartland of U.S. digital infrastructure serving the AI boom,” down to NextEra’s home-state of Florida, where the subsidiary Florida Power & Light serves roughly 6 million customers. While Dominion dominates data centers in Northern Virginia, NextEra last year partnered with Google to build more power plants and even reopen the Duane Arnold nuclear station in Iowa.

Trump digs lithium. In fact, he’s such a fan of Lithium Americas’ plan to build North America’s largest lithium mine on federal land in Nevada that he renegotiated a Biden-era deal to finance construction of the Thacker Pass project to secure a 5% equity stake in the publicly-traded developer. Yet the White House’s macroeconomic policies are pinching the nation’s lithium champion. During its first-quarter earnings call with investors last week, Lithium Americas cautioned that the Trump administration’s steel tariffs, coupled with inflation from disrupted shipments through the Strait of Hormuz, could add between $80 million and $120 million to construction costs at Thacker Pass. Most of the impact, Mining.com noted, is expected this year. Once mining begins, the project could spur new discussion of a strategic lithium reserve, the case for which Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin articulated here.
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The Department of Energy has selected Travis Kavulla, an energy industry veteran, as the 17th chief executive and administrator of the Bonneville Power Administration, NewsData reported. Founded under then-President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1937, the federal agency is a holdover from the New Deal era before utilities had built out electrical networks in rural parts of the U.S. Unlike the Tennessee Valley Authority — which functions as a standalone utility that owns and sells power, though it’s wholly owned by the federal government and its board of directors is appointed by the White House — the BPA, as it’s known, is a power marketing agency that sells electricity from hydroelectric dams owned by the Army Corps of Engineers and the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Reclamation. Kavulla currently serves as the head of policy for Base Power, the startup building a network of distributed batteries to back up the grid. He previously worked as the regulatory chief at the utility NRG Energy, and as a state utility commissioner in his home state of Montana. NewsData, a trade publication focused on Western energy markets, cautioned that the Energy Department may hold off on announcing the appointment for “the next few days or weeks” as sources warned that “it might be delayed while the department conducts a background check, or to allow the new undersecretary of energy, Kyle Haustveit, to be confirmed.”
Reached Sunday night via LinkedIn message, Kavulla politely declined to comment on whether he was appointed to lead the BPA.
Offshore wind may be spinning in reverse in the U.S. as the Trump administration attempts to, as Heatmap’s Jael Holzman put it, “murder” an industry through death by a thousand cuts. But elsewhere in the world, offshore wind is booming. Just look at Azerbaijan. Despite its vast reserves of natural gas, the nation on the Caspian Sea is looking into building its first offshore turbines. On Friday, offshoreWIND.biz reported that the Azerbaijan Green Energy Company, owned by the Baku-based industrial giant Nobel Energy, had commissioned a Spanish company to design a floating LiDAR-equipped buoy for the country’s first turbines in the Caspian. The debut project, backed by the Azeri government, would start with 200 megawatts of offshore wind and eventually triple in size.
Before the wealthy software entrepreneur Greg Gianforte ran to be governor of Montana, he donated millions of dollars to a Christian-themed museum that claims humans walked alongside dinosaurs and the Earth is just 6,000 years old. After winning the state’s top job, the Republican set about revoking virtually all policies related to climate change, including banning the projected effects of warming from state agencies’ risk forecasts. With drought withering the state, however, Gianforte has turned to perhaps the most ancient policy approach humanities leaders have called upon to fix devastating weather patterns: Pray. On Sunday, Gianforte declared an official day of prayer for rain. “Prayer is the most powerful tool we have,” he wrote in a post on X. “I ask all who are faithful to come to God with thanks and pray.”
With construction deadlines approaching, developers still aren’t sure how to comply with the new rules.
Certainty, certainty, certainty — three things that are of paramount importance for anyone making an investment decision. There’s little of it to be found in the renewable energy business these days.
The main vectors of uncertainty are obvious enough — whipsawing trade policy, protean administrative hostility toward wind, a long-awaited summit with China that appears to have done nothing to resolve the war with Iran. But there’s still one big “known unknown” — rules governing how companies are allowed to interact with “prohibited foreign entities,” which remain unwritten nearly a year after the One Big Beautiful Bill Act slapped them on just about every remaining clean energy tax credit.
The list of countries that qualify as “foreign entities of concern” is short, including Russian, Iran, North Korea, and China. Post-OBBBA, a firm may be treated as a “foreign-influenced entity” if at least 15% of its debt is issued by one of these countries — though in reality, China is the only one that matters. This rule also kicks in when there’s foreign entity authority to appoint executive officers, 25% or greater ownership by a single entity or a combined ownership of at least 40%.
Any company that wants to claim a clean energy tax credit must comply with the FEOC rules. How to calculate those percentages, however, the Trump administration has so far failed to say. This is tricky because clean energy projects seeking tax credits must be placed in service by the end of 2027 or start construction by July 4 of this year, which doesn’t leave them much time left to align themselves with the new rules.
While the Treasury Department published preliminary guidance in February, it largely covered “material assistance,” the system for determining how much of the cost of the project comes from inputs that are linked to those four nations (again, this is really about China). That still leaves the issue of foreign influence and “effective control,” i.e. who is allowed to own or invest in a project and what that means.
This has meant a lot of work for tax lawyers, Heather Cooper, a partner at McDermott Will & Schulte, told me on Friday.
“The FEOC ownership rules are an all or nothing proposition,” she said. “You have to satisfy these rules. It’s not optional. It’s not a matter of you lose some of the credits, but you keep others. There’s no remedy or anything. This is all or nothing.”
That uncertainty has had a chilling effect on the market. In February, Bloomberg reported that Morgan Stanley and JPMorgan had frozen some of their renewables financing work because of uncertainty around these rules, though Cooper told me the market has since thawed somewhat.
“More parties are getting comfortable enough that there are reasonable interpretations of these rules that they can move forward,” she said. “The reality is that, for folks in this industry — not just developers, but investors, tax insurers, and others — their business mandate is they need to be doing these projects.”
Some of the most frequent complaints from advisors and trade groups come around just how deep into a project’s investors you have to look to find undue foreign ownership or investment.
This gets complicated when it comes to the structures involved with clean energy projects that claim tax credits. They often combine developers (who have their own investors), outside investment funds, banks, and large companies that buy the tax credits on the transferability market.
These companies — especially the banks, which fund themselves with debt — “don’t know on any particular date how much of their debt is held by Chinese connected lenders, and therefore they’re not sure how the rules apply, and that’s caused a couple of banks to pull out of the tax equity market,” David Burton, a partner at Norton Rose Fulbright, told me. “It seems pretty crazy that a large international bank that has its debt trading is going to be a specified foreign entity because on some date, a Chinese party decided to take a large position in its debt.”
For those still participating in the market, the lack of guidance on debt and equity provisions has meant that lawyers are having to ascend the ladder of entities involved in a project, from private equity firms who aren’t typically used to disclosing their limited partners to developers, banks, and public companies that buy the tax credits.
“We’re having to go to private equity funds and say, hey, how many of your LPs are Chinese?” David Burton, a partner at Norton Rose Fulbright, told me. This is not information these funds are typically particularly eager to share. If a lawyer “had asked a private equity firm please tell us about your LPs, before One Big Beautiful Bill, they probably would have told us to go jump in the lake,” Burton said.
Still, the deals are still happening, but “the legal fees are more expensive. The underwriting and due diligence time is longer, there are more headaches,” he told me.
Typically these deals involve joint ventures that formed for that specific deal, which can then transfer the tax credits to another entity with more tax liability to offset. The joint venture might be majority owned by a public company, with a large minority position held by a private equity fund, Burton said.
For the public company, Burton said, his team has to ask “Are any of your shareholders large enough that they have to be disclosed to the SEC? Are any of those Chinese?” For the private equity fund, they have to ask where its investors are residents and what countries they’re citizens of. While private equity funds can be “relatively cooperative,” the process is still a “headache.”
“It took time to figure out how to write these certifications and get me comfortable with the certification, my client comfortable with it, the private equity firm comfortable with it, the tax credit buyer comfortable with it,” he told me, referring to the written legal explanation for how companies involved are complying with what their lawyers think the tax rules are.
Players such as the American Council on Renewable Energy hope that guidance will cut down on this certification time by limiting the universe of entities that will have to scrub their rolls of Chinese investors or corporate officers.
“It’d be nice if we knew you only have to apply the test at the entity that’s considered the tax owner of the project,” i.e. just the joint venture that’s formed for a specific project, Cooper told me.
“There’s a pretty reasonable and plain reading of the statute that limits the term ’taxpayer’ to the entity that owns the project when it’s placed in service,” Cooper said.
Many in the industry expect more guidance on the rules by the end of year, though as Burton noted, “this Treasury is hard to predict.”
In the meantime, expect even more work for tax lawyers.
“We’re used to December being super busy,” Burton said. “But it now feels like every month since the One Big Beautiful Bill passed is like December, so we’ve had, like, you know, eight Decembers in a row.”
Deep cuts to the department have left each staffer with a huge amount of money to manage.
The Department of Energy has an enviable problem: It has more money than it can spend.
DOE disbursed just 2% of its total budgetary resources in fiscal year 2025, according to a report released earlier this year from the EFI Foundation, a nonprofit that tracks innovations in energy. That figure is far lower than the 38% of funds it distributed the year prior.
While some of that is due to political whiplash in Washington, there is another, far more mundane cause: There simply aren’t that many people left to oversee the money. Thanks to the Department of Government Efficiency’s efforts, one in five DOE staff members left the agency. On top of that, Energy Secretary Chris Wright shuffled around and combined offices in a Kafkaesque restructuring. Short on workers and clear direction, the department appears unable to churn through its sizable budget.

Though Congress provides budgetary authority, agencies are left to allot spending for the programs under their ambit, and then obligate payments through contracts, grants, and loans. While departments are expected to use the money they’re allocated, federal staff have to work through the gritty details of each individual transaction.
As a result of its reduced headcount, DOE’s employees are each responsible for far more budgetary resources than ever before.
“DOE is facing its largest imbalance in its history,” Alex Kizer, executive vice president of EFI Foundation, told me. In fiscal year 2017, DOE budgeted around $4.7 million per full-time employee. In the fiscal year 2026 budget request, that figure reached $35.7 million per worker — about eight times more.
Part of that increase is the result of the unprecedented injection of funding into DOE from the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act and the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act. The pair of laws, which gave DOE access to $97 billion, comprised the United States’ largest investment to combat climate change in the nation’s history.
The epoch of federally backed renewable energy investment proved to be short-lived, however. Once President Trump retook office last year, his administration froze funds and initiated a purge of federal workers that resulted in 3,000 staffers (about one in five) leaving DOE through the Deferred Resignation Program. The administration canceled hundreds of projects, evaporating $23 billion in federal support.
While the One Big Beautiful Bill Act passed last summer depleted some of the IRA’s coffers and sunsetted many tax credits years early, it only rescinded about $1.8 billion from DOE, according to the EFI Foundation. Much of the IRA’s spending had already gone out the door or was left intact.
This leaves DOE in a strange position: Its budget is historically high, but its staffing levels have suffered an unprecedented drop.

Even before the short-lived Elon Musk-run agency took a chainsaw to the federal workforce, DOE struggled to hire enough people to keep up with the pace of funding demanded by the IRA’s funding deadlines. The Loan Programs Office, for example, was criticized for moving too slowly in shelling out its hundreds of billions in loan authority. According to a report from three ex-DOE staffers that Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo covered, the IRA’s implementation suffered from a lack of “highly skilled, highly talented staff” to carry out its many programs.
“The last year’s uncertainty and the staff cuts, the project cancellations, those increase an already tightening bottleneck of difficulty with implementation at the department,” Sarah Frances Smith, EFI Foundation’s deputy director, told me.
One former longtime Department of Energy staffer who asked not to be named because they may want to return one day told me that as soon as Trump’s second term started, funding disbursement slowed to a halt. Employees had to get permission from leadership just to pay invoices for projects that had already been granted funding, the ex-DOE worker said.
While the Trump administration quickly moved to hamstring renewable energy resources, staff were kept busy complying with executive orders such as removing any mention of diversity equity and inclusion from government websites and responding to automated “What did you do last week?” emails.
On top of government funding drying up, Kizer told me that the confusion surrounding DOE has had a “cooling effect on the private sector’s appetite to do business with DOE,” though the size of that effect is “hard to quantify.”
Under President Biden, DOE put a lot of effort into building trust with companies doing work critical to its renewable energy priorities. Now, states and companies alike are suing DOE to restore revoked funds. In a recent report, the Government Accountability Office warned, “Private companies, which are often funding more than 50 percent of these projects, may reconsider future partnerships with the federal government.”
Clean energy firms aren’t the only ones upset by DOE’s about-face. Even the Republican-controlled Congress balked at President Trump’s proposed deep cuts to DOE’s budget in its latest round of budget negotiations. Appropriations for fiscal year 2026 will be just slightly lower than the year before — though without additional headcount to manage it, the same difficulties getting money out the door will remain.
The widespread staff exit also appears to have slowed work supporting the administration’s new priorities, namely coal and critical minerals. LPO, which was rebranded the “Office of Energy Dominance Financing,” has announced only a few new loans since President Biden left office. Southern Company, which received the Office’s largest-ever loan, was previously backed by a loan to its subsidiary Georgia Power under the first Trump administration.
Despite Trump’s frequent invocation of the importance of coal, DOE hasn’t accomplished much for the technology besides some funding to keep open a handful of struggling coal plants and a loan to restart a coal gasification plant for fertilizer production that was already in LPO’s pipeline under Biden.
Even if DOE wanted to become an oil and gas-enabling juggernaut, it may not have the labor force it needs to carry out a carbon-heavy energy mandate.
“When you cut as many people as they did, you have to figure out who’s going to do the stuff that those people were doing,” said the ex-DOE staffer. “And now they’re going to move and going, Oh crap, we fired that guy.”