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“Republicans engage differently on climate and energy policy than Democrats, and that doesn’t make it wrong.”

The longest presidential nomination acceptance speech in history included not one single second on climate change. That’s table stakes, though, for the party of Donald Trump. More noteworthy, perhaps: During Trump’s 92-minute speech Thursday night at the conclusion of the Republican National Convention, he used the word “energy” fewer times than he said “beautiful,” “invasion,” or his own name.
When Trump did reference energy, it was almost exclusively to distinguish himself from the incumbent’s policies. “They’ve spent trillions of dollars on things having to do with the Green New Scam,” he said in an apparent reference to the Inflation Reduction Act, the most significant action the U.S. government has ever taken on clean energy. He vowed to redirect IRA funds to “roads, bridges, and dams,” and to both “drill, baby, drill” and end the (nonexistent) “electric vehicle mandate” on his first day in office. Such adversarial rhetoric was par for the course for the RNC’s primetime speakers — would-be future cabinet member Doug Burgum earlier this week warned of an “era” of “brownouts and blackouts” if Democrats stay in power, and Trump’s running mate JD Vance painted himself as an ally of “the energy worker” in fracking states.
But the energy (if you will) offstage was cheerier. The clean energy advocates I spoke with left Milwaukee feeling optimistic, and told me that RNC attendees were generally receptive to an “all of the above” energy approach — a term that refers to the build-out of emissions-lowering renewable energy in combination with the continued domestic production of fossil fuels.
Arguably, “all of the above” is what President Biden is already doing, which might be why it didn’t make primetime; political conventions are hype events, meant to build enthusiasm for a candidate, promote the party platform, and, above all, distinguish what makes them different from the other guys. Republican rank-and-file voters and state delegates are “not going to be receptive to a ‘climate change’ message,” Heather Reams, the president of the center-right clean energy advocacy group Citizens for Responsible Energy Solutions, told me — or at least not in those words.
“I know there are a lot of my friends on the left who are very nervous looking at this convention,” Reams said. But “Republicans engage differently on climate and energy policy than Democrats, and that doesn’t make it wrong.”
And engage they did. Energy was reportedly a topic of robust conversation during the un-televised portions of the convention, especially regarding affordability, domestic supply chains, and a strong economy. “Every day there was a central energy event with policymakers, members of Congress, governors, state legislators, and energy sector leaders talking about the opportunities to grow American clean energy across the country,” Jeremy Harrell, the CEO of ClearPath, a conservative clean energy advocacy group, told me. “It was really incredible to see hundreds of people getting together across town in different forums to talk about the opportunities in this space.”
ClearPath and CRES, along with the American Conservation Coalition and the Conservative Climate Foundation, hosted a joint event promoting Republican-led climate change policies that more than 250 people attended, according to Harrell. Speakers included Utah congressman and Republican senatorial candidate John Curtis and Iowa congresswoman Mariannette Miller-Meeks, both members of the Conservative Climate Caucus. Reince Priebus, the former RNC chairman and one-time White House chief of staff under Trump, also delivered remarks “really doubling down” on clean energy as a whole, Harrell said, including raising questions like, “How do we invest in American energy innovation? How do we grow energy and manufacturing jobs? How do we reduce our dependence on Russian and Chinese energy and resources, and do it all while reducing global emissions?”
Reports of Republican receptiveness to an “all of the above” energy approach won’t satisfy everyone, of course. Some climate advocates have criticized the strategy as not going far enough since it doesn’t eliminate new carbon pollution. For example, as Lori Lodes — the executive director of Climate Power, a pro-Democratic strategic communications organization that has slammed Biden for approving new drilling projects — stressed in a RNC press conference this week, Republicans’ return to power “would see Big Oil CEOs get richer as working families face job losses, higher costs, fewer choices, and poisoned communities.” And as my colleague Robinson Meyer has written, “if your biggest issue is that the United States should aim to rapidly reduce its emissions of heat-trapping pollution, then you probably shouldn’t vote” for the Republican presidential ticket.
Additionally, lurking behind the RNC platform and headliner speeches looms the specter of Project 2025, which, among other things, endorses axing the Energy Department’s Loan Programs Office and its $400 billion lending authority to help clean energy technologies that are potentially too risky for traditional lenders. Trump has (unconvincingly, to some) aimed to distance himself from the document, and Reams told me, “Just because some of Trump’s advisors created it doesn’t mean that it’s going to be accepted.”
Still, while Reams was pleased with the receptivity to clean energy she found on the ground at the RNC, she wasn’t entirely without apprehensions. “Where it can be a little bit harder for us is thinking about government spending — the tax credits and protecting those tax credits, appropriations for the Department of Energy and offices like the [Office of Energy Efficiency and Renewable Energy], or clean grid initiatives — that I think are going to be a little bit of a tougher sell to Republicans. We have our work cut out for us there,” she told me. “But there are so many other House Republicans who totally get it today.”
The RNC headliners did hit some of the right notes for the all-of-the-abovers; Harrell, of ClearPath, was particularly excited about Vance’s speech emphasizing investment in the U.S. supply chain to reduce reliance on foreign adversaries. This, he told me, would lead to “investment in clean clean energy and clean assets across the country.”
By design, political conventions are a kind of Rorschach test, so that the conversation (or lack thereof) that so alarmed the climate left this week might be, in the eyes of others, an encouraging sign of ideological progress. In 2016, the last in-person Republican convention, clean energy “was tough to talk about,” Reams told me. Of this past week, she said, “I can say nothing but positive things.”
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The country is already suffering the effects of climate change. A lack of data makes it that much more difficult to adapt.
The nation of Venezuela perches atop a fifth of the planet’s recoverable crude oil. Due to mismanagement, corruption, failing infrastructure, and a dearth of technical expertise, its output, however, is low — less than a million barrels a day. If production in the country were to continue apace, exhausting the reserve would take over 1,500 years, extending the extraction of fossil fuels as far into the future as the early water wheel lies in society’s past. The reserves-to-production ratio for the United States’ existing oil is, by comparison, a mere 11 years.
The opportunity of all that untapped oil is part of why the Trump administration has seized control of the extra-heavy crude in the Orinoco Basin, which is among the dirtiest and most carbon-intensive oil in the world. Many observers have remarked on the planet-warming potential of the oil takeover, and the revival of Venezuela’s fossil fuel industry would indeed be yet another nail in the coffin of the Paris Agreement’s 1.5 Celsius temperature-rise goal.
But far less has been said about what a more extreme climate would mean for Venezuelans. That’s at least partially because we don’t fully know.
“Venezuela often appears in global climate assessments as a blank spot or an unknown, despite being ecologically significant and highly vulnerable,” Liliana Rivas, a freelance environmental and investigative reporter working in the country, told me.
Neglect isn’t a problem unique to Caracas. The international climate science community has long struggled to accurately represent the developing world in its research, though it has made improvements in recent years. Over a third of the contributors to the latest Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report were from institutions based in the Global South — in parts of Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean — up from 10% in the report’s first year.
Still, “the IPCC is doing a systematic literature review, and they rely on what scientific literature is available,” Paulina Jaramillo, a professor of engineering and public policy at Carnegie Mellon University, told me. Jaramillo — who is from Medellín, Colombia, and whose father comes from a border town with Venezuela — added that “the common language you see in the reports from Africa and South America is that the peer-reviewed literature is much more limited in those countries.”
Part of that is due to modest funding opportunities for researchers. (Jaramillo said “everyone thought I was crazy” when she decided almost 30 years ago to study environmental engineering in Colombia.) But the absence of long-term datasets makes quality climate research difficult, too. It takes “at least 30 years of continuous observations … to define a climatic period and allow for robust conclusions,” Nature noted in a recent editorial. Climate researchers who want to study Venezuela are, for the most part, restricted to data gathered since the satellite era, post-1980s, which was never designed to offer a detailed local picture.
Understanding the climate picture in Venezuela is critical, though. Out of 188 nations in the world, Venezuela ranks 181st in climate vulnerability. The nation faces a laundry list of worsening environmental crises, including extreme flooding, droughts, landslides, heat waves, rising sea levels, deforestation, oil spills, contamination and pollution, and illegal mining. An extreme rainfall event over the Andes and Venezuela Llanos last summer displaced thousands of people, observers estimated, cutting off nearly 10,000 families in the mountainous western state of Mérida from food, water, health care, and adequate sanitation services. By some measurements, Venezuela was also the first nation in the world to lose all of its glaciers.
“What happens [in Venezuela] affects the rest of the world,” Jaramillo told me. Between 2014 and late 2025, almost 8 million people were estimated to have left the country, straining public services in neighboring nations. “Climate change is a threat multiplier,” Jaramillo went on. “We can’t just think, ‘Oh, those are problems in those countries.’ They have global geopolitical implications, in addition to the humanitarian aspect.”
An incomplete picture not only heightens Venezuela’s vulnerability to extreme weather impacts, it also renders the country all but incapable of adapting to them. After all, how can you develop effective strategies without data to inform the designs and operations? Partially because of this, Venezuela has been ranked 142nd out of 192 countries by Notre Dame in terms of its adaptation capabilities. “It’s the worst prepared country in South America” when it comes to climate change, Jaramillo said.
The country’s weather-monitoring infrastructure — which is accessible to researchers — is poorly maintained. A “significant” number of weather stations across Venezuela are inoperable, “limiting the ability to track rainfall, temperature, and extremes with confidence at local scale,” Robert Muggah, the co-founder of the Igarapé Institute, a Brazil-based security and development think tank, told me by email from Davos. “More recently, reporting from the Venezuelan Amazon has described weather stations being looted or relocated for security, leaving major river basins with long gaps in routine measurements.”
Mariam Zachariah, a research associate at London’s Imperial College, told me her team at World Weather Attribution ran into this problem when it tried to investigate whether anthropogenic climate change fueled the catastrophic flooding in the country last year. “You might have 10 weather stations in the region, but when you try to look at them, five will not have data,” she said. “So you can’t really use that. You don’t actually get a good representation of the trend in that region.” The complex natural topography of Venezuela also renders large-scale climate models unreliable, making conclusions drawn from them even less certain.
Following the collapse of Venezuela’s oil production in the mid-2010s, recently removed President Nicolás Maduro’s government also began censoring the country’s environmental statistics. “There is very little transparency and public access to environmental data,” Rivas, the investigative journalist, said.
Reporters working within Venezuela face dangers, too. Joshua De Freitas Hernández, an independent journalist, told me he estimates there are fewer than 20 reporters in his country focused on environmental issues, and none of them are on the climate change beat, specifically. Emiliano Teran Mantovani, a Venezuelan sociologist and political activist, also told me there has been a “decrease in the reports of oil spills and the reports of ecological degradation in the national parks because people do not want to talk.” The government repression is “really, really scary,” he added.
Local reporters who forge ahead find themselves contending with many of the same problems as international researchers: “limited access to official data, restricted access to certain territories, and security risk scenarios affected by mining or extractive activity,” Rivas told me.
The environmental situation is so bad, in fact, that some hope the U.S. takeover of the nation’s oil industry will actually improve it. “Much of the [fossil fuel industry] pollution happening today is the result of abandonment, lack of maintenance, and total absence of environmental oversight,” Rivas said. “I think that in that context, some people, including also environmental observers, cautiously argue that the return of international companies could, under the right conditions, introduce environmental controls, monitoring standards, and technologies that currently do not exist.”
Mantovani, the activist, pushed back on that line of thinking. “The environmental issue is not a priority either for the government or the opposition, or for Donald Trump or Chinese capitalists,” he said. “No one is talking about the environmental issues or climate issues.”
The Trump administration has argued that the U.S. takeover of the oil industry will benefit the Venezuelan people. But while “extreme weather in Venezuela will not suddenly shift because of a single military operation,” as Muggah of the Igarapé Institute put it to me, fossil fuel-related pollution could have immediate public health impacts on local and Indigenous communities. (Illegal mining, while not as directly linked to climate change as oil production, is another extractive industry compounding the twinned environmental and humanitarian crises in the country.)
In the short term, “When security operations and political upheaval intensify, the institutions that keep people safe during heat waves, floods, and disease outbreaks often get weaker,” Muggah added. Worse yet, due to the many ongoing uncertainties about Venezuela’s future climate and Caracas’ limited ability to identify those risks or adapt, there will almost certainly be extreme-weather refugees in the country in the future.
International research institutions say, “Well, we don’t know what is happening in Venezuela or if this extreme weather is related to climate change, because there is no data,” De Freitas Hernández, the independent Venezuelan journalist, told me. “That’s the first thing all institutions have to say: ‘We don’t have the data.’ We need the data.”
The offshore wind developer was in the process of completing necessary repairs when the administration issued its stop work order, according to court filings.
In the Atlantic ocean south of Massachusetts, 10 wind turbine towers, each 500 feet tall, stand stripped of their rotary blades. Stuck in this bald state due to the Trump administration’s halt on offshore wind construction, the towers are susceptible to lightning strikes and water damage. This makes them a potential threat to public safety, according to previously unreported court filings from the project developer, Vineyard Wind.
The company filed for an injunction against Trump’s stop work order last week. The order posed a unique threat to Vineyard Wind, as the project is 95% complete and its contract with a key construction boat is set to expire on March 31, the filing said. “If construction is not completed by that date, the partially completed wind turbines will be left in an unsafe condition and Vineyard Wind will incur a series of financial consequences that it likely could not survive,” the company wrote.
One of the final tasks the company was working on was replacing faulty blades on nearly two dozen turbine towers. In July 2024, one of the installed blades snapped in two, sending fiberglass and other debris crashing into the sea and eventually onto the beaches of Nantucket. The incident revealed a manufacturing defect at the Canadian factory where the blades were made. After multiple investigations into the incident, the company reached an agreement with the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management and the Bureau of Safety and Environmental Enforcement to replace the defective equipment with blades produced at a different factory in France.
Trump’s construction freeze contained an exception for activities “necessary to respond to emergency situations and/or to prevent impacts to health, safety, and the environment.” So after the order came down on December 22, Vineyard Wind reached out to the relevant regulators and asked permission to continue its blade replacement process on safety grounds, the company explained in court filings. BSEE responded that the company could remove the faulty blades on the 10 remaining towers, but could not replace them.
The decision highlights an apparent double standard in the administration’s considerations of public safety. The stop work order itself was intended to “protect the American people,” according to Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum. Yet the agency has refused to let construction move forward to mitigate risks created by the stoppage.
Testimony submitted by Steven Simkins, Vineyard Wind’s Wind turbine team lead, describes the dangers of leaving the towers bladeless for an extended period of time — a risk compounded by the ticking clock on the company’s construction boat contract. “The wind turbine was designed to be constructed completely and only be in a hammerhead state, without blades, for a brief amount of time during installation,” Simkins wrote.
He warned of three main liabilities. First, the towers are equipped with a lightning protection system, but the system’s receptors and conductors extend along the blades. Without the blades, the towers are essentially lightning rods, at risk of igniting an electrical fire, Simkins explained.
The three giant holes where the blades would be installed are also sitting open, with tarps covering them as temporary protection. That means that water, ice, and humidity could get into the nacelle, the top part of the tower that houses all of the electrical and mechanical systems, which are not designed to weather this kind of exposure. “Not only will this lead to prolonged offshore work replacing damaged equipment but it also puts the safety of the workers at risk,” Simkins wrote. “Electrical cabinets that have experienced some level of corrosion become less safe and increase the risk of an arc flash event.”
Lastly, the 500-foot towers are being roiled by winter wind and waves, which causes them to sway. The blades are designed to capture that wind, reducing its force on the towers. Without them, the “fatigue” on the towers will be exacerbated, “and the design has accounted for a limited amount of such fatigue over the total life of the structure.”
Court documents show that Vineyard Wind — the last of five affected companies to file for an injunction against Trump’s stop work order — held off on litigation as it made multiple attempts to convince the administration that completing blade installation was necessary to mitigate safety risks.
Vineyard Wind also sent BSEE verification of its safety claims by DNV Energy Systems, a Danish company it was required to retain to “ensure that the Project is installed in accordance with accepted engineering practices and, when necessary, to provide reports to BSEE regarding incidents affecting Critical Safety Systems.” But BSEE disagreed and denied Vineyard Wind’s request.
The Trump administration filed a response in the case on Tuesday, with BSEE’s Principal Deputy Director Kenneth Stevens testifying that the bureau’s technical personnel had “determined that there should be no structural issues associated with the tower and nacelle-only configuration if they were installed correctly.” He noted that the towers had been “routinely left in this configuration repeatedly” while the project was under construction over the past year and a half “with no reported adverse impacts to safety.”
Vineyard Wind did not respond to a request for comment on that assertion. A hearing in the case is scheduled for Friday. Three separate district judges have already granted injunctions to offshore projects affected by the stop work order: Revolution Wind, Empire Wind, and Dominion Energy’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind project. Each judge found that the companies were “likely” to succeed in showing that the stop work order violated the Administrative Procedures Act, and allowing them to continue construction.
Jael Holzman contributed reporting.
One of the buzziest climate tech companies in our Insiders Survey is pushing past the “missing middle.”
One of the buzziest climate tech companies of the past year is proving that a mature, hitherto moribund technology — conventional geothermal — still has untapped potential. After a breakthrough year of major discoveries, Zanskar has raised a $115 million Series C round to propel what’s set to be an investment-heavy 2026, as the startup plans to break ground on multiple geothermal power plants in the Western U.S.
“With this funding, we have a six power plant execution plan ahead of us in the next three, four years,” Diego D’Sola, Zanskar’s head of finance, told me. This, he estimates, will generate over $100 million of revenue by the end of the decade, and “unlock a multi-gigawatt pipeline behind that.”
The size of the round puts a number to climate world’s enthusiasm for Zanskar. In Heatmap’s Insider’s Survey, experts identified Zanskar as one of the most promising climate tech startups in operation today.
Zanskar relies on its suite of artificial intelligence tools to locate previously overlooked conventional geothermal resources — that is, naturally occurring reservoirs of hot water and steam. Trained on a combination of exclusive subsurface datasets, modern satellite and remote sensing imagery, and fresh inputs from Zanksar’s own field team, the company’s AI models can pinpoint the most promising sites for exploration and even guide exactly what angle and direction to drill a well from.
Early last year, Zanskar announced that it had successfully revitalized an underperforming geothermal power plant in New Mexico by drilling a new pumped well nearby, which has since become the most productive well of this type in the U.S. That was followed by the identification of a large geothermal resource in northern Nevada, where exploratory wells had been drilled for decades but no development had ever occurred. Just last month, the company revealed a major discovery in western Nevada — a so-called “blind” geothermal system with no visible surface activity such as geysers or hot springs, and no history of exploratory drilling.
“This is a site nobody had ever had on the radar, no prior exploration,” Carl Hoiland, Zanskar’s CEO, told me of this latest discovery, dubbed “Big Blind.” He described it as a tipping point for the industry, which had investors saying, “Okay, this is starting to look more like a trend than just an anomaly.”
Spring Lane Capital led Zanskar’s latest round, which also included Obvious Ventures, Union Square Ventures, and Lowercarbon Capital, among others. Spring Lane aims to fill the oft-bemoaned “missing middle” of climate finance — the stage at which a startup has matured beyond early-stage venture backing but is still considered too risky for more traditional infrastructure investors.
Zanskar now finds itself squarely in that position, needing to finance not just the drills, turbines, and generators for its geothermal plants, but also the requisite permitting and grid interconnection costs. D’Sola told me that he expects the company to close its first project financing this quarter, explaining that its ambitious plans require “north of $600 million in total capital expenditures, the vast majority of which will come from non-dilutive sources or project level financing.”
Unsurprisingly, the company anticipates that data centers will be some of its first customers, with hyperscalers likely working through utilities to secure the clean energy attributes of Zanskar’s grid-connected power. And while the West Coast isn’t the primary locus of today’s data center buildout, Hoiland thinks Zanskar’s clean, firm, low-cost power will help draw the industry toward geothermally rich states such as Utah and Nevada, where it’s focused.
“We see a scenario where the western U.S. is going to have some of the cheapest carbon-free energy, maybe anywhere in the world, but certainly in the United States.” Hoiland told me.
Just how cheap are we talking? Using the levelized cost of energy — which averages the lifetime cost of building and operating a power plant per unit of electricity generated — Zanskar plans to deliver electricity under $45 per megawatt-hour by the end of this decade. For context, the Biden administration set that same cost target for next-generation geothermal systems such as those being pursued by startups like Fervo Energy and Eavor — but projected it wouldn’t be reached 2035.
At this price point, conventional geothermal would be cheaper than natural gas, too. The LCOE for a new combined-cycle natural gas plant in the U.S. typically ranges from $48 to $107 per megawatt-hour.
That opens up a world of possibilities, Hoiland said, with the startup’s’s most optimistic estimates showing that conventional geothermal could potentially supply all future increases in electricity demand. “But really what we’re trying to meet is that firm, carbon-free baseload requirement, which by some estimates needs to be 10% to 30% of the total mix,” Hoiland said. “We have high confidence the resource can meet all of that.”