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A vicious climate-political cycle is developing.

When Donald Trump won the 2024 U.S. presidential election, the risk to recent progress on climate policy was immediately obvious: He ran on a promise to increase fossil fuel production, has a long history of denigrating renewable energy, and is hostile to anything with Joe Biden’s name on it, including a raft of policies enacted over the past four years to reduce emissions.
But as unique a character as Trump is, his victory was just one part of an international surge in right-wing populism that has occurred over the past few years, especially in Europe. Right-wing populists focus their appeals on a supposed conflict between ordinary people and what they claim is a corrupt elite; the philosophy is also usually characterized by nativism and a suspicion of international cooperation and integration. All of that comfortably translates into antagonism toward climate action. So if right-wing populists are on the march globally, what are the risks for global climate policy?
The picture is complex — not every populist party puts environmental issues near the center of its agenda. The Alternative for Germany party (also known as AfD) recently gained a high-profile supporter when Elon Musk wrote an op-ed calling it “the last spark of hope” for Germany, citing “cultural integrity” as one of the reasons he supports it. But it was already gaining, even if most Germans find it repellent: In September, it became the first far-right party to win a state election since World War II.
The AfD’s platform (which it has helpfully translated into English) is as full-on denialist as you can find from any major political party; it rejects the idea of anthropogenic climate change and demands an end to German efforts to reduce emissions. “We want to end the perception of CO2 as an exclusively harmful substance and set a stop to Germany’s maverick policy in the reduction of CO2 emissions,” it says.
Meanwhile in the Netherlands, Geert Wilders’ PVV is now the largest party in the governing coalition (though after six months of negotiations following the PVV’s showing in the last election, Wilders agreed to let another coalition partner become prime minister). Its platform promised that the Dutch “Climate Act, the [Paris] climate accord and all other climate measures go straight into the shredder.” Austria’s far-right FPO party placed first in elections in September; it opposes most efforts to combat climate change. (Austria’s Chancellor Karl Nehammer, from the center-right OVP or “People’s Party,” resigned Saturday after coalition talks with FPO broke down.)
In last summer’s parliamentary elections in France, the far-right National Rally pledged a rollback of environmental laws, including “slashing the value-added tax on gas, power and fuel from 20 percent to 5.5 percent; freezing all new wind projects; and easing energy efficiency requirements for homeowners looking to sell their properties,” according to Politico. The party failed to win a plurality in the second round of voting, but it displayed a strength that alarmed many environmentalists. And after last year’s European Parliament elections, far-right parties now control a quarter of the seats in the body, more than ever before.
For these parties, the single most important issue is immigration; their appeal is driven by backlash to influxes of newcomers from Syria and northern African countries, which has contributed to a changing demographic picture. But while environmental policies may be secondary, the issues are hardly unrelated. Versions of “Great Replacement” theory are visible everywhere, the idea that liberal elites are importing non-white immigrants to displace native-born whites and transform the nation. In this telling, green policy is one more way the conspiracy of cultural elites tries to control the lives of the nation’s truest citizens.
Far-right parties often get their strongest support in rural areas, just as Republicans do in the U.S., where farmers protest environmental policies imposed from urban capitals and which they see as the brainchildren of cosmopolitan elites who are either indifferent or actively hostile to their needs. Last spring, farmers staged dramatic protests in France, Germany, Belgium, and other countries, protesting environmental policies they said made it difficult for them to earn a living.
In that way, opposition to climate action fits neatly within the rest of the right-wing populist philosophy and agenda, which usually reject international accords like the Paris Agreement and even the existence of the European Union itself. Repealing climate laws can be a way of striking back at experts and cosmopolitan urbanites, whether it’s Trump rolling back EV subsidies or European rightists attacking the EU’s Green Deal, which among other things obligates the continent to achieve net-zero emissions by 2050.
The far-right populist parties aren’t the only ones pushing back certain kinds of climate action; center-right parties are also playing a part, even if historically they have been far more progressive on climate than the GOP. Consider the European Union’s law requiring that no internal-combustion cars be produced after 2035, which passed in 2022. That law is now under attack from the center-right, especially the European People’s Party, the largest bloc in the European Parliament. The EPP (which includes EU president Ursula von der Leyen among its members) is seeking to have the ban repealed, or at least modified to allow for continued production of plug-in hybrids and ICE cars that run on biofuels.
Nevertheless, far-right parties that want to maximize their power to the point where they can lead governing coalitions have an incentive to moderate their rhetoric on climate. One can see that dynamic in Italian prime minister Georgia Meloni, whose rhetoric on the international stage sounds much more progressive than her party does at home, where it still traffics in climate denial. She has even presented climate as a right-wing issue, saying “The right loves the environment because it loves the land, the identity, the homeland.” This version of environmentalism seeks to combat climate change in order to minimize the numbers of future climate migrants from the Global South, many of whom will wind up seeking refuge in Europe.
However you feel about that motivation, it points to a vicious cycle that could emerge in the future: As global temperatures increase and natural disasters become more frequent, more places become uninhabitable and millions of people become climate refugees. They head north into developed countries, where their presence spurs a right-wing backlash that puts far-right populist parties into power. Those parties then reverse progressive climate policies, making it more difficult to reduce emissions and continuing the cycle.
That might not be our future, and the changes to climate policy advocated by the resurgent populist parties haven’t yet been implemented. It’s also possible that the far right’s political moment could be fleeting. But the next few years will offer plenty of reasons to worry.
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to reflect political developments in Austria.
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Plus more venture capital musings on Day 4 of New York Climate Week.
It’s another hectic and productive Climate Week in New York City, full of discussions on topics ranging from electrification, to permitting reform (the latest: it’s going to wait until after the midterms), to energy security amid soaring oil and gas prices, to, inevitably, the ways the data center buildout is both helping and hurting climate tech companies and emissions targets alike.
As usual, cadres of venture capitalists descended on Midtown Manhattan, bringing with them the particular brand of optimism that venture inherently requires. They touted the potential synergies between cleantech and the artificial intelligence boom, bemoaned the persistent “missing middle” funding gap, and debated ways to talk about climate without actually saying the word climate. Through it all, a few core themes emerged.
The first was the inescapable truth that the American economy is being hugely buoyed by AI right now. At our Heatmap House event on Wednesday, I asked Gabriel Kra, co-founder of early-stage climate tech investment firm Prelude Ventures, about the successful IPOs of geothermal company Fervo and nuclear energy company X-Energy. I wondered aloud whether their ability to reach that milestone said less about broad cleantech enthusiasm than it did about their hyperscaler customer base and its desperation for clean, firm power.
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He was nonplussed. “So wait, you’re asking if the current IPOs are reflective of the current economic environment?” he joked (sort of). “It’s likely that this country is in a zero growth or recessionary environment without the capital expenditures and the economic growth being driven by those same hyperscalers. And those hyperscalers are driving the largest change in the demand for energy, the largest change in the demand for electricity that we have seen in like a century.”
Point taken.
Dawn Lippert, founder of the philanthropically funded nonprofit investment firm Elemental Impact and its offshoot venture fund, Earthshot Ventures, likewise emphasized the opportunity to ride AI’s momentum to deploy cleantech in and around data centers. Elemental recently launched the Data Center Innovation Initiative, a partnership between climate tech startups, philanthropic organizations, and four hyperscalers — Google, Microsoft, Amazon, and Meta — to fund and pilot solutions such as low-carbon building materials, energy efficiency infrastructure, cooling solutions, and energy storage.
“We all feel a little bit used by data centers,” Lippert told me onstage at Heatmap House. “We thought, how can you actually use data centers to do the things that we need to do as society? And pulling forward clean energy technologies and sustainable technologies is one of the most interesting ways that they can be a real service to society.”
But she admitted that the data center story has essentially bifurcated the climate tech industry into the haves and have-nots. “We certainly see this as a tale of two sectors.” She told me. On the other, less fortunate, side of the equation, she listed companies working on lowering emissions in the food and agriculture supply chain. While she didn’t name names, that could mean everything from alternative protein startups to companies working to curb cattle’s methane emissions or developing alternatives to synthetic fertilizers.
Nature-based solutions are also faring poorly in the current environment, Lippert told me. That could include carbon removal companies pursuing everything from reforestation to enhanced rock weathering. “I think we need much more catalytic capital to make sure that companies and really good innovations can weather this storm that we have,” she told me, referring to those being left behind as AI sucks all of the attention and money out of the room.
Another theme that emerged was pushback to the notion that backing infrastructure-intensive climate tech solutions is necessarily incompatible with traditional venture timelines — or that taking longer when needed somehow makes those investments less worthwhile.
“I am proving you can have exits of very substantial fund returners in less than 10 years,” Katie Rae, CEO of the MIT-affiliated VC Engine Ventures, told me onstage at Heatmap House. “So I don’t know, do I need a longer timeline than software needs? Looks like I don’t.” She currently sits on the board of a number of prominent climate tech startups, including long-duration storage company Form Energy and Commonwealth Fusion Systems. Many in the industry are speculating that both could go public in the next few years, potentially putting them just within the 10-year mark from Engine Ventures’ first seed check to exit.
At an event I moderated on Monday at fusion company Thea Energy’s New Jersey headquarters, investors in the four-year-old startup told the audience they’re perfectly willing to wait until the mid-2030s for Thea to put its first fusion electrons on the grid. “The thing that we came up against when we were underwriting Thea is something that you hear all the time with fusion,” Pete Mathias, a general partner at the early-stage firm Reveille VC, told me. “Oh, it’s going to take 10, 15, years. And oh, it’s going to take a billion dollars. Well, yeah, I mean, so did DoorDash. They raised $2.5 billion dollars to bring food to your doorstep.”
You could practically hear his eyes rolling at the comparable triviality. “So when you look on a relative basis what the mission of this company is, the scale of the opportunity, the durability of the product, the kilowatt-hour cost of energy — it’s a much more investable case.”
This year’s biggest energy IPOs, Fervo and X-Energy, also challenge the notion that profitability must precede public market success. “If you told me a geothermal company that had not produced commercial electricity and a nuclear company that had not produced any commercial electricity were about to be multi-billion-dollar public companies [...] and tried to raise money from me five or 10 years ago, based on that premise, I would have said you’re crazy,” Kra told me.
In fact, both companies have stated in SEC filings that they expect to continue racking up losses for years, as any fusion company thinking about going public anytime soon would likely do, as well. But much like Fervo and X-Energy’s earliest backers, public market investors bought into the company’s forward-looking vision. “And why could they believe that story?” Kra asked. “They had customers who were willing to pay them money for their product,” he said. Simple as that. Fervo’s early customers include Southern California Edison and Google, while X-Energy plans to sell power to chemical producer Dow and Amazon.
Back at Thea’s event, Mathias threw additional cold water on the idea that traditional venture timelines and the intimidating cost of big infrastructure buildouts should dictate the viability of companies with the potential to fundamentally reshape society. “I thought Climate Week is all about, 100 years from now Planet Earth is on fire,” he said to the crowd. “What is the cost of that? It seems pretty high.”
A few other tidbits of note:
The bipartisan proposal from the House Science Committee comes with the backing of the Fusion Industry Association.
The nuclear fusion industry has been asking for a $10 billion investment from the U.S. government. Now, there’s a bipartisan coalition in Congress ready to give it to them.
On Thursday, Californians Zoe Lofgren, ranking member of the House Science Committee, and Jay Obernolte, chair of the body’s Subcommittee on Research and Technology, introduced the American Leadership in Fusion Act, which would pump some $10 billion into the industry to commercialize the frontier nuclear energy technology.
The $10 billion number was not pulled out of a hat (or a stellarator). The Fusion Industry Association called for a “one-time $10 billion injection of U.S. public capital into efforts and partnerships with the private fusion industry” late last year, a figure the group said was based on analyses from the National Academies of Science and a Department of Energy advisory committee.
“Fusion is the future, and this bipartisan bill is a major step in capitalizing on the promise of its emission-free power,” Lofgren said in a statement. “This bill will unleash a new era of fusion energy development in the United States.”
At our Heatmap House event at New York Climate Week on Wednesday, Commonwealth Fusion Systems CEO Bob Mumgaard acknowledged that $10 billion is a lot of money, but “you have to say what gets the job done. It’s a disservice to lowball what is needed. It’s this very important thing — it’s an entire new industry. Let’s treat it as such.”
The fusion industry hasn’t necessarily been hurting for private capital. In July, the FIA reported that 56 companies had raised almost $4.5 billion in the past year. CFS alone announced $1 billion of new funding in July, bringing its total investment up to $4 billion. Of the over $14 billion the industry has raised, almost a third has gone to CFS.
Whether this federal funding ever materializes remains to be seen. A Department of Energy official poured cold water on the $10 billion figure in July, telling the industry that the figure wasn’t plausible, according to Politico.
Obernolte and Lofgren’s bill would split the $10 billion into several pots all aimed at commercializing fusion technology, which has been the subject of university and scientific consortium research for decades.
The biggest chunk, almost $4 billion, would be devoted to building test facilities to work on materials and fuel. Another $2 billion would be put into the existing “milestone-based development program,” established by 2020’s Energy Act and expanded in the 2022 CHIPS and Science Act, which links funding to preset scientific and business targets. CFS has won funding through this program, as have seven other companies including Thea Energy and Tokamak Energy. Another $3 billion in the bill would go to a new demonstration program, analogous to the existing Advanced Reactor Demonstration Program for fission projects, which would probably involve fewer awards for bigger projects that require substantial cost sharing.
While it’s unlikely that this bill could become law this Congress, considering that the House of Representatives has left town to campaign for the midterms, fusion legislation typically garners bipartisan support. The ADVANCE Act, which included regulatory language easing fusion’s regulatory pathway, was signed into law in 2024 after passing the Senate in an 88-2 vote. It is unlikely, Democratic committee staff acknowledged, that the bill get a vote this Congress, but it could start momentum towards a bipartisan fusion bill in a future Congress.
Science Committee staff have been working on the American Leadership in Fusion Act since earlier this year, soliciting advice from national labs, universities, and companies working on fusion technology. The bill has won the endorsement of fusion industry heavyweights like CFS, the Fusion Industry Association, and several energy policy nonprofits and universities, including the Clean Air Task Force and ClearPath Action.
And it’s not crazy to expect the administration to take an interest in the bill, either, considering the latter’s bipartisan backing and alignment with the former’s own stated goals, a senior Democratic committee staffer told me.
Earlier this year, the Department of Energy released a Fusion Science and Technology Roadmap, which “aims to usher a burgeoning U.S. fusion industry toward maturity on the most rapid, credible timeline” including through “leveraging public and private sector investments.”
Third Way’s head of climate and energy argues that both sides have lost voters’ trust, with serious consequences for our infrastructure.
In September 2024, then-presidential candidate Donald Trump told a crowd in Wilmington: “We will cut your energy prices in half … Mark it down, and you can get very angry at me if we don't do it.” He gave himself one year from when he’d take office.
Two years later, rates are up. And we’re angry.
Utilities requested $18.6 billion in rate increases in the first half of 2026, including a record $9.2 billion in the second quarter alone. Gas prices are hovering close to $4.50 a gallon, almost a full dollar more than this time last year. Diesel prices are even worse, recently passing $6.50 a gallon, up by over 50% from one year ago.
In the past two years, electricity prices have increased by over 10%. In the past five years, it’s over 36%.
President Trump’s failure to lower costs has tanked his approval ratings, currently just 34% overall and 33% on his handling of the economy. But he’s not alone. Incumbent politicians across the country — along with utilities, energy-intensive businesses, and tech companies — have found themselves swept up in the backlash.
Those feelings of blame and distrust have emanated throughout our democracy. Just 27% of Americans trust national institutions, according to a June Gallup poll, a single point above the all-time low. Just 17% trust the federal government to do what's right. Nearly seven in 10 people fear that institutional leaders are deliberately misleading them.
Looking at our energy infrastructure, I understand the feeling. Government and industry have chronically neglected our electricity delivery system, offering impossible-to-fulfill slogans rather than real solutions.
Over the past four years, this has created what I’m calling the Energy Trust Gap. It results from the toxic collision of an aging, neglected, and overstressed grid; rising prices; and voter frustration with policymakers, regulators, and industries that overpromise and underdeliver.
This is not merely a Trump problem, though it is true that the president’s chaotic tariff strategy, his impossibly stupid war in Iran, and his senseless energy obstruction have dramatically widened this rift.
Instead of deploying more energy to the grid, the Trump administration has blocked renewables when Americans need them most. It paid TotalEnergies $928 million and Invenergy $765 million to abandon offshore wind leases — $1.7 billion of public money not to build power. Through the Pentagon, it has halted over 28 gigawatts of onshore wind projects in 21 states, and attempted to suspend five fully permitted projects already under construction. Thankfully, all five won injunctions and resumed development by February. Still, the industry's trade association estimated that the cancellations and delays would add $45 billion in East Coast energy costs over a decade.
Though a federal appeals court recently ruled against it, the administration was also using emergency authority to keep 11 fossil units at seven plants running at a cost of roughly $1.5 million per day. The evidence is quite weak that these units are necessary to maintain grid stability or meet unexpected demand. Some are producing substantially less power than they can, or have even been taken offline.
But the Energy Trust Gap has not been created by Republicans alone. Here is the part my side needs to sit with.
In 2022, then-President Biden promised that the Inflation Reduction Act would “bring down family energy bills by an average of $500 a year.” The White House projected that, alongside the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, the IRA would cut electricity rates by up to 9% by 2030. Advocates promised the law would create “more than 9 million good jobs.”
The Trump administration undid some of the efforts to fulfill these promises before they could bear fruit. But others were flimsy from the start.
An accompanying report on the 9 million jobs figure acknowledged, in a footnote, that “not all of the jobs created will be net new employment,” but rather would constitute workers hired away from elsewhere to remedy a tight labor market. It also clarified that “job” was less accurate than “job-year equivalent,” a technical measure of labor volume rather than individual people holding durable positions.
These caveats never made it into the president’s public comments, including at events I helped host.
We expected the government to spur private sector demand and create jobs across the country. We assumed the public would see the benefits and credit our clean energy policies. But voters didn’t see an IRA-driven jobs boom in their communities, didn’t feel its impact in reducing costs amid a crisis, and didn’t see it improving their lives.
Yes, there were jobs. But in an economy as large as the United States, the public simply doesn’t distinguish “clean energy jobs” from other sectors.
The promise of a national electric charging network to enable EV ownership didn’t pan out, either. Congress made $4.4 billion available for chargers in 2022; four years later, states had opened only around 150 public charging stations, a flop for a program designed to fund about 1,600 stations on the path to phasing out gas vehicles. Same story with home heating. The American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy found that in all four high-electricity-price states it modeled, the average gas household's bills increased after electrification.
When heating homes already accounts for more than 40% of residential energy consumption, you cannot credibly advocate for more expensive options.
These functional failures were also messaging failures. By 2024, 40% of registered voters hadn’t heard anything about the IRA. Governors got more credit for new renewable energy and green manufacturing facilities than President Biden did, according to a post-mortem on the law led by the University of Michigan’s Alexander Gazmararian. The Biden administration placed a big political bet on actions that were misbranded, inadequately promoted, and ultimately undeliverable before November 2024 — the only timeframe that mattered.
Let me be clear: The Energy Trust Gap will cost Democrats elections.
As policymakers head into November’s midterm elections, they are being called upon to answer for the proliferation of data centers and the skyrocketing cost of electricity. In this moment, Democrats could seize momentum from Republicans. But many are still ignoring the lessons of the past four years.
A large number of voters believe clean energy advocates are exaggerating the affordability of renewable energy. If candidates argue that the transition to clean energy is a guaranteed outcome, and that Biden’s climate law worked, they will lose.
Reality is breaking through in some places: Officials are concerned about the cost-of-living crisis, explicitly acknowledging the trade-offs that come with climate policy and prioritizing affordability for ratepayers above all else. In March, for example, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey signed an executive order to bring more energy and energy storage to the Bay State, calling for an “all-of-the-above approach to energy, including “solar, wind, gas, nuclear and hydro.” In New York, Governor Kathy Hochul has been honest that the state cannot meet its 2030 climate targets “without imposing new and additional crushing costs,” citing state estimates of more than $4,000 a year for upstate households burning oil and gas.
“Something has to give,” she said.
That honesty is critical. Policymakers, clean energy and climate advocates, and industry cannot fix the issues plaguing our energy system without regaining some credibility.
Here’s where I would start:
This is the uncomfortable but necessary path to closing the Energy Trust Gap. The alternative is more broken promises and putting our ambitions for energy, the economy, national security, and climate completely out of reach.
If policymakers can’t be straightforward about the trade-offs and deliver on their solutions, we’ll doom ourselves to policy whipsawing and another energy crisis.
Then another. Then another. Then another.