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At a triumphant bill-signing earlier this month, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis sounded less like the leader of the nation’s third largest state and more like the host of a QAnon podcast. “Today, Florida is fighting back against the global elite’s plan to force the world to eat meat grown in a petri dish or bugs to achieve their authoritarian goals,” he said. DeSantis was there to trumpet a new state law that outlaws the sale of lab-grown meat, also known as cultivated meat.
One might reasonably ask why DeSantis and his Republican allies care about lab-grown meat at all. The technology — in which cells from animals are fed with nutrients and grown until they eventually produce something resembling a cut of actual meat — is still in the experimental stage, and it could be decades before companies are able to produce it on an industrial scale, if ever. So why bother outlawing it?
But DeSantis is not alone. Legislators in Alabama, apparently satisfied that they have solved all the state’s other problems, rushed to pass a similar law, which Gov. Kay Ivey signed on May 7. Similar measures have also been introduced in Arizona, Kentucky, Tennessee, and West Virginia. And it isn’t just Republicans; a few Democrats looking to fortify their carnivorous bona fides have also attacked cultivated meat. Pennsylvania’s Democratic Senator John Fetterman applauded DeSantis’ action, saying he “would never serve that slop to my kids,” and Montana Democrat Sen. Jon Tester — who lost three fingers in a meat grinder as a boy — introduced a bill to ban cultivated meat from school lunches.
So far, Donald Trump, the presumptive Republican nominee for president, has not weighed in on lab-grown meat. But given his taste for outré conspiracy theories and niche culture war issues, no one would be surprised if he began railing against it in his rallies and on Truth Social.
This is fundamentally a fake issue: Not only is there no place you can buy lab-grown meat in Florida or Alabama, there’s no place you can buy it anywhere in the country. Last year the Department of Agriculture gave approval for lab-grown chicken to be sold, and not long after it was featured as a special menu item at the upscale restaurants Bar Crenn in San Francisco and José Andrés’ China Chilcano in Washington (reviews were mixed but mostly positive). But those experiments have ended, and it could be a while before it’s available again even in a restaurant. The technological challenges in recreating both the taste and texture of meat have proven greater than many anticipated; the problem may not be insurmountable, but it hasn’t been surmounted yet, at least not at scale.
But it’s just the kind of issue Republicans (and Democrats in swing states) love, one that casts them as the defenders of the honest, traditional, and manly, while mainstream Democrats are supposedly the advocates of weird and vaguely effeminate ideas. Why would you let some egghead scientist make you a steak? Real men want to know that their meat was killed in the most unpleasant circumstances possible.
Then there’s the climate angle: While Republicans may not exactly be pro-climate change in their rhetoric (policy choices are another matter), they are eagerly anti-anti-climate change, in the same way they’re anti-anti-racism. Just as they wage the culture war by opposing efforts to undo racism, they can do the same by opposing efforts to address climate change, shifting the conversation from the real problem onto the supposedly oppressive efforts to solve it.
And solving climate change is one of the rationales for cultivated meat that has helped attract venture capital to the startups trying to make it a reality. Global demand for meat has risen steadily for decades, and will continue to grow as incomes increase (generally speaking, the wealthier a country is, the more meat its citizens consume). In 2022, humans slaughtered 300 million cows, 1.5 billion pigs, and an incredible 75 billion chickens. Advocates of lab-grown meat sell it as a way to mitigate both that almost unfathomable carnage, with all its attendant animal suffering, and the enormous climate effects of meat production.
And unlike plant-based meat substitutes, lab-grown meat would satisfy the human desire to consume genuine animal flesh. There’s almost certainly a limit on how many people will want to eat Impossible Burgers and “Chick-n” tenders, no matter how good they taste. But since cultivated meat is still meat, advocates say any carnivore should be happy to bite into a lab-grown steak — which is why it’s so important for certain politicians to convince them that doing so would make them some kind of hippie.
I’d submit that politicians like DeSantis don’t actually care whether anyone sells or eats a cultivated pork loin. The point is to convince people that they are under siege from the powerful forces of wokeness, who want to steal your gustatory freedom after they confiscate your guns and force your children to change genders.
The invocation of bug-eating is a key tell. When DeSantis tells people that “the global elite” wants to force you to eat bugs, he’s referencing a conspiracy theory that the average person may not have heard of but is widespread on the right. Bill Gates and other leftist puppetmasters, the theory goes, have a plan to enslave us all and force us to eat bugs for our protein.
One of the benefits of associating bug-eating with a different food you want to discredit is that it produces feelings of disgust, which social psychologists have long known are more powerful for conservatives than for liberals. As Tucker Carlson once said, “Eating insects is repulsive and un-American. And of course, therefore, in the eyes of the left, it must be awesome.”
Here’s the counterpoint, thought: One might also think that this is an issue of basic liberty. Cultivated meat might or might not become widely consumed as an alternate food source, but if it does, as long as it’s safe you should be able to eat it if you want to (and the same ought to go for bugs). We can say with a fair bit of confidence that there will still be old-fashioned lamb chops and roast chickens available for all of our lifetimes.
But as an opportunity to create another front in the culture war and remind voters that politics is all about identity, it’s too good for Republicans in Florida and Alabama, and maybe other states to come, to pass up. If there’s a woke hippie conspiracy afoot to rob you of your testosterone and make you slave to the global elite, they want voters to know they’ll be on it. Even if it’s imaginary.
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According to a new analysis shared exclusively with Heatmap, coal’s equipment-related outage rate is about twice as high as wind’s.
The Trump administration wants “beautiful clean coal” to return to its place of pride on the electric grid because, it says, wind and solar are just too unreliable. “If we want to keep the lights on and prevent blackouts from happening, then we need to keep our coal plants running. Affordable, reliable and secure energy sources are common sense,” Chris Wright said on X in July, in what has become a steady drumbeat from the administration that has sought to subsidize coal and put a regulatory straitjacket around solar and (especially) wind.
This has meant real money spent in support of existing coal plants. The administration’s emergency order to keep Michigan’s J.H. Campbell coal plant open (“to secure grid reliability”), for example, has cost ratepayers served by Michigan utility Consumers Energy some $80 million all on its own.
But … how reliable is coal, actually? According to an analysis by the Environmental Defense Fund of data from the North American Electric Reliability Corporation, a nonprofit that oversees reliability standards for the grid, coal has the highest “equipment-related outage rate” — essentially, the percentage of time a generator isn’t working because of some kind of mechanical or other issue related to its physical structure — among coal, hydropower, natural gas, nuclear, and wind. Coal’s outage rate was over 12%. Wind’s was about 6.6%.
“When EDF’s team isolated just equipment-related outages, wind energy proved far more reliable than coal, which had the highest outage rate of any source NERC tracks,” EDF told me in an emailed statement.
Coal’s reliability has, in fact, been decreasing, Oliver Chapman, a research analyst at EDF, told me.
NERC has attributed this falling reliability to the changing role of coal in the energy system. Reliability “negatively correlates most strongly to capacity factor,” or how often the plant is running compared to its peak capacity. The data also “aligns with industry statements indicating that reduced investment in maintenance and abnormal cycling that are being adopted primarily in response to rapid changes in the resource mix are negatively impacting baseload coal unit performance.” In other words, coal is struggling to keep up with its changing role in the energy system. That’s due not just to the growth of solar and wind energy, which are inherently (but predictably) variable, but also to natural gas’s increasing prominence on the grid.
“When coal plants are having to be a bit more varied in their generation, we're seeing that wear and tear of those plants is increasing,” Chapman said. “The assumption is that that's only going to go up in future years.”
The issue for any plan to revitalize the coal industry, Chapman told me, is that the forces driving coal into this secondary role — namely the economics of running aging plants compared to natural gas and renewables — do not seem likely to reverse themselves any time soon.
Coal has been “sort of continuously pushed a bit more to the sidelines by renewables and natural gas being cheaper sources for utilities to generate their power. This increased marginalization is going to continue to lead to greater wear and tear on these plants,” Chapman said.
But with electricity demand increasing across the country, coal is being forced into a role that it might not be able to easily — or affordably — play, all while leading to more emissions of sulfur dioxide, nitrogen oxide, particulate matter, mercury, and, of course, carbon dioxide.
The coal system has been beset by a number of high-profile outages recently, including at the largest new coal plant in the country, Sandy Creek in Texas, which could be offline until early 2027, according to the Texas energy market ERCOT and the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis.
In at least one case, coal’s reliability issues were cited as a reason to keep another coal generating unit open past its planned retirement date.
Last month, Colorado Representative Will Hurd wrote a letter to the Department of Energy asking for emergency action to keep Unit 2 of the Comanche coal plant in Pueblo, Colorado open past its scheduled retirement at the end of his year. Hurd cited “mechanical and regulatory constraints” for the larger Unit 3 as a justification for keeping Unit 2 open, to fill in the generation gap left by the larger unit. In a filing by Xcel and several Colorado state energy officials also requesting delaying the retirement of Unit 2, they disclosed that the larger Unit 3 “experienced an unplanned outage and is offline through at least June 2026.”
Reliability issues aside, high electricity demand may turn into short-term profits at all levels of the coal industry, from the miners to the power plants.
At the same time the Trump administration is pushing coal plants to stay open past their scheduled retirement, the Energy Information Administration is forecasting that natural gas prices will continue to rise, which could lead to increased use of coal for electricity generation. The EIA forecasts that the 2025 average price of natural gas for power plants will rise 37% from 2024 levels.
Analysts at S&P Global Commodity Insights project “a continued rebound in thermal coal consumption throughout 2026 as thermal coal prices remain competitive with short-term natural gas prices encouraging gas-to-coal switching,” S&P coal analyst Wendy Schallom told me in an email.
“Stronger power demand, rising natural gas prices, delayed coal retirements, stockpiles trending lower, and strong thermal coal exports are vital to U.S. coal revival in 2025 and 2026.”
And we’re all going to be paying the price.
Rural Marylanders have asked for the president’s help to oppose the data center-related development — but so far they haven’t gotten it.
A transmission line in Maryland is pitting rural conservatives against Big Tech in a way that highlights the growing political sensitivities of the data center backlash. Opponents of the project want President Trump to intervene, but they’re worried he’ll ignore them — or even side with the data center developers.
The Piedmont Reliability Project would connect the Peach Bottom nuclear plant in southern Pennsylvania to electricity customers in northern Virginia, i.e.data centers, most likely. To get from A to B, the power line would have to criss-cross agricultural lands between Baltimore, Maryland and the Washington D.C. area.
As we chronicle time and time again in The Fight, residents in farming communities are fighting back aggressively – protesting, petitioning, suing and yelling loudly. Things have gotten so tense that some are refusing to let representatives for Piedmont’s developer, PSEG, onto their properties, and a court battle is currently underway over giving the company federal marshal protection amid threats from landowners.
Exacerbating the situation is a quirk we don’t often deal with in The Fight. Unlike energy generation projects, which are usually subject to local review, transmission sits entirely under the purview of Maryland’s Public Service Commission, a five-member board consisting entirely of Democrats appointed by current Governor Wes Moore – a rumored candidate for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination. It’s going to be months before the PSC formally considers the Piedmont project, and it likely won’t issue a decision until 2027 – a date convenient for Moore, as it’s right after he’s up for re-election. Moore last month expressed “concerns” about the project’s development process, but has brushed aside calls to take a personal position on whether it should ultimately be built.
Enter a potential Trump card that could force Moore’s hand. In early October, commissioners and state legislators representing Carroll County – one of the farm-heavy counties in Piedmont’s path – sent Trump a letter requesting that he intervene in the case before the commission. The letter followed previous examples of Trump coming in to kill planned projects, including the Grain Belt Express transmission line and a Tennessee Valley Authority gas plant in Tennessee that was relocated after lobbying from a country rock musician.
One of the letter’s lead signatories was Kenneth Kiler, president of the Carroll County Board of Commissioners, who told me this lobbying effort will soon expand beyond Trump to the Agriculture and Energy Departments. He’s hoping regulators weigh in before PJM, the regional grid operator overseeing Mid-Atlantic states. “We’re hoping they go to PJM and say, ‘You’re supposed to be managing the grid, and if you were properly managing the grid you wouldn’t need to build a transmission line through a state you’re not giving power to.’”
Part of the reason why these efforts are expanding, though, is that it’s been more than a month since they sent their letter, and they’ve heard nothing but radio silence from the White House.
“My worry is that I think President Trump likes and sees the need for data centers. They take a lot of water and a lot of electric [power],” Kiler, a Republican, told me in an interview. “He’s conservative, he values property rights, but I’m not sure that he’s not wanting data centers so badly that he feels this request is justified.”
Kiler told me the plan to kill the transmission line centers hinges on delaying development long enough that interest rates, inflation and rising demand for electricity make it too painful and inconvenient to build it through his resentful community. It’s easy to believe the federal government flexing its muscle here would help with that, either by drawing out the decision-making or employing some other as yet unforeseen stall tactic. “That’s why we’re doing this second letter to the Secretary of Agriculture and Secretary of Energy asking them for help. I think they may be more sympathetic than the president,” Kiler said.
At the moment, Kiler thinks the odds of Piedmont’s construction come down to a coin flip – 50-50. “They’re running straight through us for data centers. We want this project stopped, and we’ll fight as well as we can, but it just seems like ultimately they’re going to do it,” he confessed to me.
Thus is the predicament of the rural Marylander. On the one hand, Kiler’s situation represents a great opportunity for a GOP president to come in and stand with his base against a would-be presidential candidate. On the other, data center development and artificial intelligence represent one of the president’s few economic bright spots, and he has dedicated copious policy attention to expanding growth in this precise avenue of the tech sector. It’s hard to imagine something less “energy dominance” than killing a transmission line.
The White House did not respond to a request for comment.
Plus more of the week’s most important fights around renewable energy.
1. Wayne County, Nebraska – The Trump administration fined Orsted during the government shutdown for allegedly killing bald eagles at two of its wind projects, the first indications of financial penalties for energy companies under Trump’s wind industry crackdown.
2. Ocean County, New Jersey – Speaking of wind, I broke news earlier this week that one of the nation’s largest renewable energy projects is now deceased: the Leading Light offshore wind project.
3. Dane County, Wisconsin – The fight over a ginormous data center development out here is turning into perhaps one of the nation’s most important local conflicts over AI and land use.
4. Hardeman County, Texas – It’s not all bad news today for renewable energy – because it never really is.