You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
If you haven’t asked, don’t assume the answer is no.

Approximately 32,000 people drink the tap water in Moses Lake, Washington, an agricultural town in the Columbia River basin approximately 175 miles to the east of Seattle. If you were to sip that water over the course of a lifetime, you’d consume 7,457 times the recommended limit of perfluorooctane sulfonate and perfluorooctanoic acid — two chemicals that fall under the umbrella of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, also known as PFAS or “forever chemicals.”
Moses Lake’s contaminated groundwater dates back to when the town was the site of the Larson Air Force Base, which was also used for years as a dump site for toxic waste. But its story is not unique: the city’s water utility is one of 563 in the Environmental Working Group’s newly updated tap water database to report unsafe levels of PFOA and PFOS. That’s not even to mention all the other possible PFAS contaminants that can be found in drinking water or the utilities that haven’t tested for PFAS at all.
Though the Environmental Protection Agency is required by a 1996 amendment to the Safe Water Drinking Act to report drinking water data, it’s never released a comprehensive database, and information can be hard to come by. EWG, a nonprofit that focuses on contaminants and toxins, synthesized reports from 50,000 individual water systems across the country, looking at more than 300 contaminants beyond PFAS. It also offers fairly conservative exposure recommendations for each, often based on California’s public health goals. “EWG is filling this need for people to have a national clearinghouse where they can easily access their drinking water data,” Tasha Stoiber, a senior scientist with EWG, told me.
The United States Geological Survey estimates that as much as 20% of Americans drink, bathe, and brush their teeth with PFAS-contaminated water. But unless you know where to look — or bother to — you could be drinking the chemicals entirely unawares. “The first step is to find out about what’s in your drinking water,” Stoiber added. “Depending on where you are, the quality of your drinking water can vary.”
The obvious safeguard here is federal regulations. But despite PFAS being linked to a whole host of poor health outcomes, including kidney and testicular cancer, decreased fertility, and thyroid disease, the Environmental Protection Agency only announced legally enforceable limits for six PFAS chemicals in drinking water last year, under President Joe Biden. (The EPA has estimated that the quantifiable health benefits of those six regulations alone reach $1.5 billion annually.) At the same time, a Biden-era effort to limit PFAS discharged into industrial wastewater — which can subsequently spread to drinking water — stalled out in 2024, and never advanced past the notice phase of the rulemaking process. President Trump promptly scrapped the draft guidelines after taking office.
The future of PFAS regulation now hangs in a strange limbo. Though EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin previously voted for regulating some PFAS in drinking water while serving as a New York congressman, the deregulatory influences in the Trump administration seem poised to win out over the voices in the Make America Healthy Again camp epitomized by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.’s often conspiratorial emphasis on “wellness.” (While some concerns, like microplastics and PFAS, are backed by ample research, the right-wing health movement also expresses skepticism about long-proven health measures like pasteurization and vaccines.)
But as Sharon Udasin and Rachel Frazin, the co-authors of the forthcoming book Poisoning the Well: How Forever Chemicals Contaminated America, chorused to me, RFK Jr. “isn’t in charge of the EPA.” In fact, the Project 2025 blueprint for the Trump presidency — over a third of which has already been implemented — explicitly singles out a need to “revisit” a Biden-era designation of PFAS as hazardous.
In filling out his environmental team, Trump reappointed Nancy Beck, who has a history of opposing PFAS regulations, as a senior adviser to the EPA’s Office of Chemical Safety. Lynn Ann Dekleva — who spent three decades at DuPont, the chemical manufacturer accused of concealing the dangers of PFAS by Ohio attorney Rob Bilott of Dark Waters fame — is also now the EPA’s deputy assistant administrator. In Congress, the Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works is chaired by Republican Senator Shelley Moore Capito of West Virginia, who has argued that the dangers of PFAS have been overblown, and that the chemicals are too expensive to regulate. Widespread federal layoffs by Elon Musk’s efficiency team will also stymie efforts to curb PFAS, the regulation of which would require “scaling up — not scaling down — government bodies such as the EPA, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, the Consumer Product Safety Commission and so on,” the International Chemical Secretariat, an environmental organization, has noted.
Though some states have begun implementing their own PFAS restrictions, “the more that we test for PFAS, the more places that we’re finding it,” Stoiber, the EWG scientist, told me. “It’s being addressed in a patchwork way.”
EWG recommends investing in a good water filtration system if you live in a place with PFAS contamination. But “we recognize that filtering water isn’t the solution to water contamination,” Sydney Evans, an EWG senior science analyst, added to me. “The burden should not be on the individual.”
Still, with clean water regulations in jeopardy, the onus nevertheless falls on individuals to assess their own risks. That’s long been the case with PFAS in particular, according to Udasin, the author. “It’s been like that from the beginning,” she told me. “Regulatory agencies kicked the can down the line; it was really the grassroots activists and scientists working together who raised awareness about this issue in terms of home filtration systems, which now some states have provided for people.”
Perhaps most alarming of all, though, is the fact that drinking water is only a part of the picture when it comes to PFAS exposure. “The water issue with PFAS is one that we often hear about because that’s the one that impacts a lot of people very acutely,” Frazin, Udasin’s co-author, told me. But people are also exposed to PFAS “in their personal care products, waterproof cosmetics, nonstick pans, and waterproof clothing. They’re also in a lot of stain-resistant sprays.” By the EPAs estimate, just 20% of PFAS exposure probably comes from contaminated drinking water.
The nasty truth about forever chemicals is contained in their name — they aren’t going away. The Larson Air Force Base in Lake Moses, Washington, closed in 1966, but the legacy of PFAS lingers in the groundwater to this day. Until a government steps up to regulate not just PFAS in drinking water, but production at the source, lives will be in danger. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if PFAS wasn’t in the water to begin with,” Evans of EWG reminded me. “There is progress being made, but it’s looking upstream where we can solve a lot of these issues.”
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Rob checks in with Commodity Context’s Rory Johnston as the Iran War (hopefully) draws to a close.
When Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz earlier this year, experts projected oil prices would go to $200 a barrel. But then… they didn’t. In fact, while gasoline prices rose in the United States, and Europe and Asia suffered higher costs, the resulting energy crisis wasn’t even as bad as what followed Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine.
Why? China. The country seems to have absorbed the costs of Trump’s war of choice by releasing hundreds of millions of barrels from its strategic stockpile. On this episode of Shift Key, Rob is joined by Rory Johnston, an oil markets researcher and the author of the Commodity Context newsletter. They discuss China’s massive (and quiet) intervention, why it’s “the most important thing we learned” from the Iran War, and what it means for the future of energy and geopolitics. Shift Key is hosted by Robinson Meyer, the founding executive editor of Heatmap News.
Subscribe to “Shift Key” and find this episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can also add the show’s RSS feed to your podcast app to follow us directly.
Mentioned:
China Oil Demand Doubts, Rory’s 2023 article about Chinese strategic stockbuilding
Previously on Shift Key: Why the Iran Ceasefire Hasn’t Ended the Energy Crisis, featuring Rory
This episode of Shift Key is sponsored by ...
Heatmap Pro brings all of our research, reporting, and insights down to the local level. The software platform tracks all local opposition to clean energy and data centers, forecasts community sentiment, and guides data-driven engagement campaigns. Book a demo today to see the premier intelligence platform for project permitting and community engagement.
Music for Shift Key is by Adam Kromelow.
We got a much better sense of the Trump administration’s nuclear buildout plans today.
The Energy Department announced its long-awaited loan program that will aim to build a new fleet of nuclear reactors across the country. The department’s in-house bank will provide low-interest loans of up to $17.5 billion to help utilities and power developers buy up to 10 Westinghouse AP1000s, the third-generation nuclear reactor that is that company’s flagship product.
I can’t say this program was entirely a surprise: If you read Heatmap, you’ll remember we reported on the existence of this program — and the discussions between the government, utilities, power developers, and Westinghouse — back in February. Gregory Beard, who leads the Energy Department’s in-house bank, also teased the program at a Houston conference in April.
The program looks roughly as anticipated: It will aim to construct up to 10 new reactors, with two AP1000 Westinghouse reactors across five sites. That could add up to 11 gigawatts of nearly around the clock zero-carbon electricity to the power grid. What’s new is that Westinghouse and the utility will jointly own the power plants.
According to The Wall Street Journal, utilities and Westinghouse will each own part of the plants once they’re built. Five loans will become available; the department is already in talks with seven utilities.
At the high level, it’s a cool program — or at least I think so. Nuclear support has become surprisingly bipartisan, at least at the elite level, in recent years. In New York, Governor Kathy Hochul is trying to develop new nuclear plants. As we’ve noted before, the countries with some of the cleanest power grids in the world, such as France and Sweden, achieved their low carbon emissions in part by undertaking large, state-led nuclear energy buildouts. France, in particular, harmonized its nuclear power plants to a single reactor design and then built them to spec across the landscape. China is engaged in a similar buildout now with a variant of the AP1000. By getting behind the AP1000 in the United States, the Trump administration is following a global best practice.
The idea of a mass buildout makes sense for other reasons, too. Recent nuclear projects in the United States have often faced delays because construction and manufacturing timelines don’t line up. AP1000s are manufactured partly off-site in Westinghouse facilities and then shipped in; when a part arrives late, an expensive construction crew has to sit idle while they wait for it to arrive. (These timing misalignments drove part of the Vogtle plant’s runaway costs in Georgia.) By placing what is in essence a bulk order for AP1000 parts, the new program aims to bring down the cost of production and even allows project sites to swap identical parts as they come available — if one site isn’t ready to receive a pressure vessel, for instance, it can go somewhere else.
I hesitate to praise the project's climate bonafides at the risk of discouraging the Trump administration, but it is worth noting that if this project were to succeed, it would be one of the largest state-assisted build-outs of zero-carbon electricity in recent American history. But it would still take some time to arrive: These reactors aren’t forecast to come online til 2035.
Let me note one more irony. For a long time, the country’s policymakers and nuclear industry (to the extent the latter exists) have dreamt of small modular reactors: petite fission plants that can be manufactured in a factory and would produce a few hundred megawatts. The AP1000, in both its American and Chinese iterations, is a very large reactor — but it has become, in a sense, modular and manufacturable.
Cameco, which owns about half of Westinghouse, saw its stock rise 1.8% in the day’s trading. Brookfield Renewable Partners, which owns the other half, was flat. It was otherwise a choppy day in the markets, with the S&P 500 falling 1.4% and some tech and AI-exposed companies continuing their slide.
There will be much more to say about this program, and we look forward to covering it at Heatmap.
Hyperscalers might be paying billions to avoid blame for rising electricity prices.
Here is a mystery for you: On Wednesday, the House Energy and Commerce Committee will take up the Ratepayer Protection Act, a bipartisan bill sponsored by Colorado Republican Gabe Evans and Florida Democrat Kathy Castor that seeks to enshrine Trump’s similarly named pledge into law.
Among the bill’s supporters is Kentucky Representative Brett Guthrie, a Republican and the chair of the committee. Guthrie is no opponent of artificial intelligence, saying in a statement praising the bill that “Winning the race to AI dominance is essential to securing America’s future global leadership, and that means expeditiously building the power infrastructure needed to support new technologies, while doing so in a responsible way.” Guthrie did not respond to a request for comment.
Microsoft, one of seven large technology companies that agreed to cover any additional grid infrastructure costs stemming from their data centers under Trump’s original Ratepayer Protection Pledge, supports the bill, describing it as an “important step to help ensure American families are protected from rising electricity costs.” Google, another signatory, generally backs the idea of specialized large load tariffs that allocate network costs back to the hyperscalers.
But … why? After all, these companies are voluntarily putting themselves on the hook for what could be billions of dollars in costs that would typically be socialized to all the customers on the grid.
The Data Center Coalition, a trade group including several hyperscalers, has been more circumspect about the bill. Cy McNeill, the group’s senior director of federal affairs, told me in a statement that the group “is reviewing the details of the Ratepayer Protection Act with our members and looks forward to engaging with policymakers on this important topic.”
Evans, Castor, Guthrie, and and the rest appear to be acting not out of hostility towards the AI industry, but rather from a desire to protect it from public backlash fed by rising electricity prices. Earlier this month, Guthrie co-signed a letter to FBI Director Kash Patel, among others, raising concerns that China had “engaged in a coordinated effort to slow U.S. growth in AI development and the building of infrastructure supporting AI data centers” by fomenting domestic opposition — hardly the interpretation of someone working against the industry.
The explanation, perhaps, lies in the answers to two big questions about the Ratepayer Protection Act:
1. Are data centers responsible for higher electricity prices now, or will they be in the future?
2. And would the approach taken in the law actually work to protect ratepayers?
As to the first question, analysts have come up with a nuanced answer. The electricity cost increases we’ve seen in the last five or so years have been largely driven by expenses associated with the distribution grid, including the poles and wires themselves. In some states, like California, the costs come back to wildfires; in others, like Maine, to storm remediation. Looking backwards to 2019, researchers have not been able to find a regular relationship between load growth and price hikes.
In fact, several states “absorbed large industrial and data center load additions while reducing inflation-adjusted retail prices,” according to researchers at Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy. By contrast, some states with little load growth from industry or data centers, such as Maine or California, have seen prices rise substantially.
Many analysts expect electricity prices to continue rising nationally, and data centers could be a driver going forward as demand hits a grid whose capacity to generate and transmit electricity is increasingly strained. This is likely already happening in the country’s largest electricity market, PJM Interconnection, where the system’s independent market monitor has claimed that current and forecasted data center demand has cost customers over $23 billion from recent capacity auctions.
To get prices to actually fall — or at least grow more slowly —it would require that “low-cost supply is available, existing infrastructure is more fully utilized, and cost allocation ensures that new demand contributes to system efficiency,” the Columbia researchers write. Under business as usual however, prices will likely continue to rise.
On the second question, there is much more cynicism.
Critics of the original Ratepayer Protection Pledge, including Harvard Law School’s Ari Peskoe, pointed out that the actual parties to ratemaking — utilities and state regulators — were not involved in the pledge at all. Already, there are accusations that projects developed by pledge signatories could lead to higher prices. Meta's sprawling planned data center project in Louisiana is responsible for the utility’s plans to buy a Texas natural gas-fired power plant, according to documents filed by regulators reviewed by the Times-Picayune. The $1.8 billion deal could lead to $8 a month in additional costs for typical Louisiana ratepayers.
The Ratepayer Protection Act would go a bit further than the pledge, amending the Public Utility Regulatory Policies Act to “establish a Federal standard relating to the recovery of the full, incremental costs of upgrades that serve large-load customers.” Peskoe, however, described this to me in an email as “largely symbolic” and noted that “Congress may not force state regulators to do anything” under current Supreme Court jurisprudence. “This section of PURPA is basically Congress asking state regulators to please take a look at the ratemaking standard.”
That being said, Peskoe noted that “many states and non-regulated utilities do tend to consider PURPA ratemaking standards,” but that there’s “no enforcement mechanism,” depriving the law of any teeth. “States can reject the ratemaking standards or adopt them in a way that deviates from what Congress may have intended.”
Still, it is likely in the political interest of state regulators to come up with something on large load tariffs, the Cato Institute’s Travis Fisher told me. He recommended that the National Association of Regulatory Utility Commissioners “spearhead an initiative to get every state regulator to sign a ratepayer protection pledge,” if only to insulate themselves from political backlash and maintain their power over retail ratemaking.
But even if states do adopt the cost allocation principle, determining exactly which infrastructure is being installed due to a data center and what serves all users can be tricky.
“Any real-world example of this is going to be quite complicated, and the devil’s always in the details,” Ben Schifman, a senior technology fellow at the Institute for Progress and a former attorney at the Department of the Interior and the Department of Justice, told me. While it might be possible to conclude that “a given substation is simply only needed for that data center,” he said, “as soon as you start zooming out into the larger, big-ticket investments, it’s quite complicated to attribute the cost to one user or one group of users.”
In summary, the Ratepayer Protection Act will ask state regulators to consider an approach to data center cost allocation that may not capture all of their costs and will likely do little to arrest the fundamental drivers of higher electricity costs. Viewed through this lens, the logic of the coalition supporting both the original Ratepayer Protection Pledge and the beefed-up Ratepayer Protection Act comes into focus.
Electricity prices are likely to continue to rise, and data center construction has powerful interests behind it. The public’s attitude towards data centers is rapidly souring, and no matter how many nuanced PDFs are published on the topic, people continue to blame data centers for higher electricity costs.
And if prices continue to rise, the big data center developers may be able to point to the Ratepayer Protection Act and say “well, it wasn’t me.”