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It’s morning in America, and the sun is shining on our photovoltaic panels.

Campaign strategists and political consultants have a lot of folk theories that guide their work, some of which are even true. One common one is that the more optimistic candidate wins, especially in presidential races: Figures such as Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama who painted a bright vision of the future with a smile on their faces triumphed over their more dour opponents. Some political science research backs it up: One study examined candidates’ rhetoric over four decades of campaigns and found “the candidate who was more a pessimistic ruminator lost 9 of 10 times.”
This presents a problem for those who want candidates to make climate change advocacy a key part of their campaigns (and make promises they’ll have to keep once they take office). If candidates want to be optimistic, they may shy away from talking too much about a topic that can be disturbing, with the potential of global catastrophe always looming.
But we’re seeing the glimmers of something interesting in the current election. Now it’s the forces of the fossil fuel status quo who sound pessimistic, while those advocating more aggressive climate action are the optimistic ones.
This is clearly a conscious choice on the part of the Biden campaign and its allies. Using the Inflation Reduction Act and its climate investments as the evidence, they’re telling a story in which the administration is striding confidently into a better future, creating jobs and cleaning the air at the same time. Pro-Biden political action committees are airing ads (see here, here, or here) featuring sweeping drone shots of wind turbines and solar arrays, and slow-motion scenes from high-tech factories where good strong Americans are doing satisfying work for good pay, all while stirring music plays in the background. It’s morning in America, and the sun is shining on our photovoltaic panels.
The $80 million that the group Climate Power is planning to spend on ads for Biden, to take one example, may not blanket the airwaves from now to November, but it’s still a significant amount devoted to telling a feel-good climate story, even if that story is only a partial one. If that’s what will motivate voters more than encouraging them to marinate in bad news about rising temperatures and CO2 emissions, that’s what we can expect candidates to do.
And the contrast with Biden’s opponent is striking. These days, Donald Trump is less likely to call climate change a hoax invented by the Chinese government (as he used to), and more likely to simply dismiss it as nothing to worry about. But when it comes to anything involving clean energy, his rhetoric turns dark and foreboding. He has a long and weird obsession with the supposed horror of wind turbines, which he believes cause cancer, kill innumerable birds, and are “driving whales crazy.” He recently told a group of oil executives, “I hate wind.” Clearly.
When talk turns to electric cars, Trump is just as grim, painting them as nightmarish misery-mobiles for both those condemned to drive them and the workers who won’t get to build them. “The cars don’t go far, they cost too much, and they’re all made in China,” he says, and “if I don’t get elected, it’s going to be a bloodbath” for the whole auto industry. At the press conference he held after being convicted on 34 felony counts, he got barely a minute into his remarks before going off on EVs: “They want to stop you from having cars with their ridiculous mandates that make it impossible for you to get a car or afford a car; make it very possible for China to build all of our cars.” If ever there was a “pessimistic ruminator,” it’s Trump.
You don’t have to be planning to buy an EV this year to be more attracted to Biden’s optimistic picture of American workers building them than Trump’s nightmarish vision of automotive dystopia. And even if some portion of the population cheers when they hear Trump promising to “Drill, drill, drill,” it’s now the forces of the status quo that sound pessimistic when it comes to energy, denying that the country is capable of innovation and adaptation. We have to just keep doing what we’re doing, they say, because we can’t have anything better.
If there’s a risk of being too optimistic in a campaign, it might be that it saps the urgency from the climate issue and produces a bias toward easy, low-cost policy solutions rather than hard choices. But the Biden administration’s record — which though far from perfect includes both crowd-pleasing spending programs and stricter regulation of emissions that have produced strong opposition — suggests that what matters most is whether a president and the people in their administration care about the climate at all.
As Heatmap’s Jeva Lange has explained, the fact that few voters respond “climate change” when asked to name the country’s most pressing problem doesn’t mean they don’t believe it’s important. And if you convince a voter that cleaner energy is a worthwhile goal to pursue, does it matter if she’s thinking more about job opportunities and lower electric bills than about reducing emissions?
It also wouldn’t be a bad thing if people came to see the issue as a contrast between the future and the past, innovative thinking and hidebound fear of change. Two decades ago, Mark Schmitt coined one of those pithy bits of insight political writers are always searching for when he wrote that in a campaign, “It’s not what you say about the issues, it’s what the issues say about you.” His example was John McCain’s advocacy for campaign finance reform, which wasn’t at the top of the voters’ priority list but communicated that McCain was a principled reformer unafraid of taking on the powerful.
In the same way, advocacy for clean energy can help candidates build an optimistic image even apart from the policy debate over whether and how the country should decarbonize. If all those ads with gleaming solar farms and humming factory floors lead people to associate the climate issue with innovation and hope rather than deprivation and misery (as Trump and others would have it), then more and more candidates may want to make that part of their image, too. And the chances of positive policy change will only increase.
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The spinoff of Lawrence Livermore National Lab has a new 10-point plan to get onto the grid by the 2030s.
One of fusion energy’s newest startups, Inertia Enterprises, is betting that the fastest route to commercial fusion runs through one of the field’s oldest ideas. The company, which raised a $450 million Series A earlier this year, plans to build a power plant based on the laser-driven fusion system pioneered at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory’s — the only tech yet to have produced more energy from a fusion reaction than it took to initiate it. Now, Inertia has shared its commercialization roadmap exclusively with Heatmap, detailing the 10 near-term capabilities it must demonstrate before this landmark experiment can become a grid-scale power plant by the mid-2030s.
The roadmap offers a route from the national lab’s impressive but commercially impractical fusion demonstrations to an economical power plant capable of producing electricity for the grid. At its core are a set of milestones — mostly aimed at developing cheap, mass-manufacturable components — that Inertia says it must clear before those individual systems can be integrated into a working plant. This road is not necessarily linear, however, as various teams will likely be working on many of these goals simultaneously.
At least the physics of Inertia’s approach are already proven, the startup’s CEO Jeff Lawson told me, pointing to the fusion experiments at Lawrence Livermore’s National Ignition Facility as a proof-of-concept. The lab’s demonstration of net energy gain caps more than six decades and $30 billion (in 2026 dollars) of U.S. fusion research. The remaining challenges, he argued, are all engineering-related, requiring “elbow grease, hard work, and smart people” rather than breakthroughs in fusion science.
"It seems to us like a startup or a commercial company of any variety should be focused on commercializing a proven scientific result, as opposed to actually trying to demonstrate the basic science to begin with," Lawson told me. Basic science, he argues, is better left to national labs and universities, where researchers can pursue "unbounded problems" that don’t align with the expectations and timelines of venture-backed startups.
Indeed, no fusion startup has yet achieved scientific breakeven, the milestone Lawrence Livermore first hit in 2022, and has since repeated numerous times. But leading players such as Commonwealth Fusion Systems and Helion Energy maintain that it’s only a matter of time before they validate the physics behind their own reactor designs, which they claim will be highly cost-competitive.
Lawson, on the other hand, readily acknowledged that Lawrence Livermore’s tech is uneconomical in its current form. His bet is simply that the more predictable path to a commercial reactor is to drive down the cost of the lab’s validated fusion approach, known as inertial confinement. This system relies on high-powered lasers firing at a millimeter-scale pellet of fusion fuel, compressing it to extreme temperatures and pressures until the atoms fuse. Today, the National Ignition Facility makes each individual fusion target by hand, a workable solution given that it only uses about a dozen per year.
That production model, however, isn’t remotely plausible for a grid-scale power plant. Because each fusion reaction lasts just a fraction of a billionth of a second, a commercial facility must fire its lasers at a fresh target about 10 times per second to generate continuous electricity — requiring the production of hundreds of millions of targets each year.
Scaling production to roughly a million pellets per day and making them inexpensive enough for commercial operation without compromising the strength or precision required for fusion ignition is central to Inertia’s roadmap. That includes goals five, seven, eight and nine — industrializing the manufacturing of the carbon shells that hold the fusion fuel, making the thin films that hold those carbon shells both durable and cheap, scaling up and automating fusion target assembly, and speeding up how fast targets are filled with the requisite deuterium-tritium fuel.
The other central focus of the roadmap is the laser system, which will ultimately consist of 1,000 individual units operating in concert to compress and heat the fusion fuel. Key priorities include reducing the system’s cost (goal two), dramatically increasing its firing cadence (goal three), and bolstering its durability to withstand high-intensity operations (goal four). Goal six also complements these efforts, calling for the development of a control system capable of tracking moving fusion targets to precisely align each laser shot.
Goals one and 10 bookend the journey with some broader milestones. The first focuses on increasing the fusion target’s energy gain — the ratio of fusion energy produced to laser energy delivered — to more than 25 times ignition. Today, the National Ignition Facility’s best-performing laser shot has yielded a gain of just over four times what it took to start the reaction. Goal 10 then zooms out to the ultimate objective: integrating all these technologies into a commercially viable power plant that can deliver either electricity or industrial heat to end customers.
To reach that point, Inertia has embarked on an industrial engineering hiring spree, recruiting folks with experience taking complex hardware systems from prototype to mass production, “not unlike the processes that are used in the semiconductor or consumer electronics world,” Lawson explained. The company has been making progress on its component development goals since the beginning of the year, he told me, and expects to announce the successful demonstration of a few of these milestones in the coming months. Lawson ultimately expects Inertia to complete the core components of its laser and target manufacturing systems by the middle of next year.
The team will spend the next two to three years integrating these individual pieces into two fully operational subsystems, a prototype laser system and a target manufacturing line. Around 2030, the company will begin combining those subsystems into a first-of-a-kind fusion power plant, which will also serve as the proving ground for the target chamber, tritium fuel breeding system, and power conversion system that turns fusion heat into electricity. By the middle of the next decade, Inertia aims to be generating power from this first plant, setting the stage for the company to build and connect additional grid-scale commercial power plants.
There are plenty of engineering trade-offs that the company will have to solve for. Take the decision around how to size the target chamber, for example. “If you make it bigger, your walls have an easier time and survive longer, but it’s more expensive. If you make it smaller, your walls have a tougher time because they’re closer to all the heat and energy that the fusion reaction is creating, but now your power plant costs less to build.”
But to Lawson, this represents exactly the type of problem Inertia was built to solve: complex engineering issues that come to the fore once scientists have demonstrated the fundamental physics are sound. He thinks other fusion companies may someday reach this stage, as well — though he’s unwilling to hazard a guess on exactly what approach or startup is best positioned to do so.
“There have been generations of scientists who’ve made their predictions about fusion energy and gotten it wrong,” he told me. “I’m not going to pretend to be smarter than them. All I’m here to say is, just knowing that one did work, we can commercialize it.”