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As the process to extend the 2017 Trump tax cuts approaches its denouement in the House of Representatives, the relative power of the various Republican factions who could hold up or alter the bill may be finally making itself clear.
And it’s the clean energy tax credit supporters who appear to be the weakest.
Three groups of House Republicans have been the most persistently critical of the emerging framework for the tax and spending bill. There are the members of the House Freedom Caucus, led by Texas Republican Chip Roy, who are fuming about the bill’s impact on the deficit. There are the SALT Republicans, a group whittled down to just five members from New York, New Jersey, and California — blue states all, with all the members from competitive districts — who want to raise the deductibility ceiling for state and local taxes, a.k.a SALT taxes, after it was slashed in 2017’s Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.
And then there are the tax credit defenders, a group of moderate Republicans from largely blue or purple states or districts who want to see at least parts of the Inflation Reduction Act preserved and protected. If that description sounds a lot like the description of the SALT caucus, well, you’re onto something: Every member of the SALT caucus has at one time or another criticized a slash-and-burn approach to dealing with the IRA’s clean energy tax credits.
Both the SALT caucus and the Freedom Caucus have been seen as credible threats to the bill, whose members must be appeased. The SALT caucus stands in a Manchin-esque position, where the five of them together could tank the bill on their own — and where some distance from the Republican party could help them in their districts. For the Freedom Caucus conservatives, the bill presents a pretty clear red line: A handful of them simply do not vote to raise the debt ceiling, which the House language does, and so would have to be appeased with substantial spending cuts.
The SALT caucus appears to have won meaningful concessions, reportedly bringing the deductibility level up to $40,000 for incomes under $500,000. It’s these concessions that seemed to be holding up the bill Wednesday afternoon, as Freedom Caucus members balked over the relative lack of attention their concerns had received. Earlier this week, President Trump was pressuring the SALT caucus to let the bill advance; now he’s putting the screws to the Freedom Caucus. And caught in the middle might be the Inflation Reduction Act.
The solution to bringing the budget harliners on board may be to further fetter and restrict the clean energy tax credits, with Republican leadership reportedly discussing bringing tax credits for projects placed in service after 2028 straight to zero rather than phasing them out gradually.
In the run up to the bill’s drafting, there was much speculation that the core clean energy tax credits of the Inflation Reduction Act could be preserved in large part thanks to the fact that they had sparked investment in Republican congressional districts. In August of last year, well before the presidential election, 18 House Republicans representing a mix of blue states and districts with substantial IRA-linked investments — including Conservative Climate Caucus Vice Chair Buddy Carter’s Savannah, Georgia-based district, with its Hyundai vehicle and battery plant — wrote a letter to Speaker Mike Johnson warning that “prematurely repealing energy tax credits … would undermine private investments and stop development that is already ongoing.” A full repeal, they said, “would create a worst-case scenario where we would have spent billions of taxpayer dollars and received next to nothing in return.”
In March, after some election-related turnover, a similar group wrote to House Ways and Means Committee Chair Jason Smith that “any proposed changes to the tax code be conducted in a targeted and pragmatic fashion that promotes conference priorities without undoing current and future private sector investments.”
But at no point have these members ever seriously threatened to vote against the bill — not even after Smith’s Ways and Means Committee proposed text that would essentially disembowel the climate law. Even going into Wednesday’s Rules Committee meeting, at least one tax credit supporter, Don Bacon of Nebraska, was leaning towards supporting the bill — hardly the kind of defiance that leads to concessions.
Not that the House IRA’s defenders have been entirely silent. After the Ways and Means Committee released its bill text, a smaller group of House Republicans (14 this time) wrote yet another letter, asking their colleagues to “consider” the effects of accelerating phase-outs, scrapping the ability to sell tax credits on the open market, and pushing out projects’ eligibility for tax credits later in their life cycle. This group, led by Virginia Republican Jen Kiggans, no longer included Buddy Carter, who in the interim had launched a campaign for Jon Ossoff’s Senate seat. It also did not include Mariannette Miller-Meeks, the Iowa Republican who chairs the Conservative Climate Caucus and who had signed the previous letters. Miller-Meeks has always shown special interest in biofuels, which arguably fared the best in the Ways and Means language — the phase-out of the IRA’s biofuel tax credit was extended from 2027 to 2031, winning plaudits from industry.
But these objections were exceedingly polite, especially compared to the Freedom Caucus’ characteristic bluster.
While the legislation is still in flux, it may be that the clean energy caucus, such as it was, contained within it the seeds of its own failure.
Of the five SALT caucus members, four signed on to Kiggans’ letter criticizing the original language altering the tax credits. Now, they appear to have won, or at least reached a deal with the House Republican leadership. And that means more fiscal space in the bill — which may be made up for with even stingier tax credits for clean energy. When the time came for choosing, SALT had to be on the menu.
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The “35x35” electrification pledge and an AI pledge are on the table.
World leaders are flocking to the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya, Turkey, this weekend for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP31. The U.S., of course, will once again not attend, as President Trump not only withdrew the country from the Paris Agreement but also from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the umbrella group that organizes the annual conferences. Still, 194 other governments will be there, putting their heads together on how to move another few inches toward a safer future.
This year, as with the last several convenings, the meeting arrives against a backdrop of geopolitical instability, worsening climate impacts, and growing concern about energy security and affordability. While conflicts like the Iran war in some ways bolster the case for the energy transition by surfacing the risks of fossil fuel dependence, prioritizing energy security can manifest as countries turning inward and showing less willingness to work for the global good.
Perhaps the biggest item on this year’s agenda is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035, up from about 23% today. That would mean switching from gas-powered cars to electric vehicles and from burning fuels for heat to electric heat pumps. It would not necessarily mean generating all of the electricity to power those devices from clean sources, although countries have committed to triple renewable energy capacity during previous COPs. Turkey itself does not have a plan to phase out fossil fuels, and its use of coal and natural gas-fired power plants has been growing alongside renewables.
It’s not yet clear whether Turkey will encourage countries to sign onto the pledge outside of the main negotiations or try to get it into the final decision text of the conference. In a twist, the conference has two countries sharing the presidency this year, with Turkey playing host and overseeing the “action agenda” — the announcements, commitments, and dealmaking that happen outside the official negotiations — and its co-chair, Australia, mediating the formal talks.
In addition to the electrification goal, Turkey is also inviting countries to sign an artificial intelligence pledge declaring a “shared ambition to make AI part of the climate solution — sustainably powered, efficiently designed, transparently measured and available to all.” The pledge has no teeth, however, as it explicitly states that it creates “no new obligations” and notes that it should be implemented according to national priorities and circumstances.
Although there will be no big agreement like there was in Paris in 2015, the two weeks of talks will end, per usual, with a consensus document that summarizes the outcomes of the negotiations. The final text from last year’s conference in Belém, Brazil, set a new goal to triple finance for climate adaptation by 2035. Countries also agreed to create a “Just Transition Mechanism,” a program to help fossil fuel-based economies navigate the socioeconomic consequences of shifting to clean energy. But the final text at COP30 did not ultimately mention the creation of a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels, despite more than 80 countries supporting the idea, and didn’t, in fact, mention “fossil fuels” at all.
Much of the work this year will be about building on those outcomes. The climate adaptation finance goal, for example, is still fuzzy, as the parties did not agree on a baseline year from which to triple the funding, or define what types of finance count toward the goal, meaning it’s unclear what the actual target amount for 2035 is. The Just Transition Mechanism is similarly skeletal — negotiators will need to hammer out how to operationalize it into something useful. Countries are also supposed to make progress on the Global Goal on Adaptation, an as-yet ill-defined goal first established in the Paris Agreement that negotiators are still working out how to implement.
Then there’s the overarching theme of finance. As I’ve written in the past, every annual climate conference is ultimately a fight over money — specifically how much developed countries are sending to developing countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects.
To date, countries have agreed to mobilize $1.3 trillion annually in climate finance from all sources for developing countries by 2035, with $300 specifically coming from developed countries. Climate finance reached record levels in 2024, the most recent year with comprehensive data, with total global flows hitting $2 trillion and funding from developed to developing countries reaching $136.7 billion.
But progress is uneven. Only 2% of global investment in renewable energy over the past two decades went to Africa, said Brian Mukhaya, a senior manager on the Clean Air Task Force’s Africa team, during a recent media briefing. Finance challenges may also collide with the conference’s electrification goal. More than 550 million people in sub-Saharan Africa lack access to electricity, Mukhaya said, and the continent will need seven to eight times current investment levels to achieve universal electricity access by 2030. Also, while the rising cost of capital is becoming an impediment to building clean energy projects everywhere in the world, the problem is acute in Africa, where the average cost of capital for power-sector investments is three to five times higher than in Europe and North America.
At COP31, negotiators will try to make progress on questions such as what form climate finance should take (grants, concessional loans, private finance, etc), how it can be more effectively distributed, and what it should be used for.
Another question hanging over this year’s conference is whether the final text will acknowledge the likelihood of surpassing 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, the more ambitious target laid out in the Paris Agreement. Last year’s decision text contained a tacit admission, with countries resolving to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.” Doing so requires a more serious discussion of carbon removal strategies than delegates have engaged in to date.
With the world seemingly careening past the 1.5 degrees target, the annual climate talks have lost some of their luster. Critics increasingly call for a new approach. Ani Dasgupta, the president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, for example, wants the COPs to center more on accountability and holding countries to their commitments. He also recommends developing a new decision-making process that does not allow a handful of countries to block decisions. Since the substance of the negotiations is becoming more and more about how to finance the transition, he argues the conference should also broaden its tent to bring in finance ministers and central banks.
“Where we are today is different from 1992 when COPs were set up,” he said during a recent press call. “The world is different. The broader needs are different. We are at a different place in the transition. And we actually haven't reformed the system.”
Progressive candidate Jane Kim declared victory in the race for California Insurance Commissioner.
Few political wonks outside of California were likely paying much attention to the Golden State on Tuesday night, as Democrats’ anticipated blue wave crested. But the state did have one close, consequential race on the ballot: insurance commissioner. On Friday, Bernie Sanders-endorsed progressive Jane Kim won the race to lead the California Department of Insurance, which oversees the state’s $452 billion insurance market.
Kim declared victory over the more moderate State Senator Ben Allen, who was backed by the California Democratic Party, after reaching a nearly six-point lead on Friday. In a brief speech before supporters, Kim said Allen called to congratulate her that morning. (A spokesman for the Allen campaign confirmed the call to The Orange County Register.) Kim ran on a proposal for a state-run, single-payer insurance program that would cover homeowners against wildfire damage — though the plan would ultimately need approval from both the California legislature and Governor-elect Xavier Becerra.
The idea is that homeowners would automatically receive public coverage for wildfire-related losses, with payouts capped at roughly what it costs to rebuild a typical California home. Policyholders would keep their regular private insurance for other risks such as theft, burst pipes, or an ordinary kitchen fire. Kim says Californians wouldn’t pay more overall, since the money for the program would come from the share of premiums that already goes toward wildfire coverage, though each household’s bill would partly depend on its own wildfire risk.
“It would be nonprofit, and so any excess capital would stay in the state of California and would be used to drive down risk,” Kim told my colleague Matthew Zeitlin a few weeks ago. “That’s the most important piece about this actually, is that it would create another revenue stream for mitigation.”
The insurance commissioner job has taken on an increasing sense of urgency as wildfires — intensified by climate change — continue ripping through communities in California. Mounting losses from hotter, drier conditions combined with decades of new construction in the wildland-urban interface have squeezed insurers’ profits, leading many to drop policyholders in high-risk areas or simply stop writing new policies in the state altogether.
California’s homeowners insurance premiums climbed 84% between December 2020 and March of this year, according to Stanford researchers. Meanwhile, a growing number of residents have been pushed onto the state’s FAIR Plan, which my colleague Matthew described as “the barebones insurer of last resort.” The share of California’s single-family homes covered by the plan has nearly tripled over that same period, from under 2% to about 5%, as homeowners in even low- and moderate-risk wildfire areas increasingly find themselves with few alternatives.
The insurance crunch has become yet another front in California’s broader affordability crisis, alongside persistently high housing, electricity, and gasoline costs. Kim’s victory suggests frustrated voters are increasingly willing to support more radical solutions that once seemed politically out of reach. And while Kim doesn’t have a background in the insurance industry, she’s no stranger to public office. The former civil rights attorney served on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2011 to 2019 before becoming a regional director for Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign.
But throughout her run for the Insurance office, critics have continually questioned how, exactly, her plan would work. No state has attempted a public disaster insurance program like this before; critics argue there’s no relevant model to work off of, no white paper laying out the details, and no price tag attached to the idea. Kim herself acknowledges that there’s plenty of uncertainty surrounding the plan. “This is a concept and a proposal, and could look quite different by the time it works its way through the process,” she told Matthew. In other words, the program that eventually emerges from negotiations with lawmakers — if one does — could end up looking considerably different from what Kim campaigned on.
Her opponent, Allen, who chairs the state senate’s Energy, Utilities and Communications Committee, argued that creating a public wildfire insurance program would impose a significant financial burden on the state. The California Earthquake Authority, an agency that sells earthquake insurance and administers the state’s Wildfire Fund, examined the potential costs of such a program this spring, estimating it would require roughly $25 billion upfront to have a 75% chance of staying solvent for 20 years. But Kim points out in her policy brief that buying reinsurance — essentially insurance for the insurer — could cut that to about $6 billion.
Allen, on the other hand, pitched a series of reforms to the existing market, including speeding up rate reviews, rewarding homeowners and communities for wildfire mitigation, expanding financing for home-hardening projects, and discouraging development in high-risk areas.
Voters opted instead for the insurance revolution. But Kim argues that her plan isn’t totally without precedent. On the campaign trail, she frequently pointed to New Zealand, where the government’s Natural Hazards Commission provides homeowners with public coverage for disasters including earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis — though notably not ordinary wildfires. And while France and Spain also operate state-backed disaster insurance programs, these don’t cover wildfires either, a far more common occurrence in California than the comparably rare disasters these programs were built around abroad.
Ultimately, Kim’s ambitious plan will require a champion in the legislature to go anywhere. But in the meantime, there are other issues she could get to work on. On the campaign trail, she said she wants to push insurers to fund a disaster mitigation program run by the Department of Insurance, require companies selling auto policies in a region to also offer homeowners coverage there, and impose minimum loss ratios compelling home insurers to pay at least 65% of premiums in claims and auto insurers at least 70%. It’s unclear, however, whether Kim can implement either of the latter two proposals without new legislation.
Kim will also immediately face the question of what to do with outgoing Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara’s Sustainable Insurance Strategy reform package. Designed to entice insurers back to California, these new rules allow companies to set premiums using forward-looking risk models rather than relying on historical losses, and to pass a portion of their rising reinsurance costs onto policyholders. In exchange, insurers are required to write more policies in wildfire-prone areas.
Kim has criticized this approach, arguing that insurers have exploited loopholes to raise premiums on lower-risk customers while continuing to underserve high-risk communities, all without doing enough to address the underlying factors driving wildfire risk.
That leaves Kim in a tricky situation. Until she is able to secure legislative backing for some version of her proposed public insurance program, she’ll have to decide whether to scrap or simply build on the existing reforms. She hasn’t yet laid out any plan for doing so. But whatever direction she takes could ultimately reshape California’s insurance market well before a new state insurer gets off the ground.
They only ticked up by 5% this week.
Beyond the repudiation of Donald Trump, if there was one message voters sent on election night, it was that they really don’t like data centers.
Democrats who ran against rampant data center development won at both the gubernatorial level (Amy Acton in Ohio, Gina Hinojosa in Texas) and the senatorial level (Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan, Annie Andrews in South Carolina). The Wall Street Journal counted 125 Democrats nationwide who “targeted their opponents over data centers.”
“Data centers are the midterms’ other big loser,” according to Politico. “The Results Are In: Voters Hate Data Centers,” from Wired.
Commentators didn’t just notice that many anti-data-center candidates won, but that a number of local data center moratoria passed as well. “In nearly every case, it’'s about 67-80% opposing data centers. True in California, Ohio, everywhere,” Brad Carson, head of the artificial intelligence policy group Americans for Responsible Innovation tweeted. Added Democratic strategist David Shor on X, “Voters sided against data centers in 40 of 41 ballot measures, with basically no correlation to how red a county was.”
But as far as new legislation and ordinances go, November 3 was just another Tuesday in the long-running local campaign against data center development, Heatmap Pro data shows.
“Forty is a lot in one day,” Owen Curtin, a data analyst with our intelligence platform Heatmap Pro, admitted, but “in terms of the rate at which county governments are enacting legislation and the overwhelming public support for them, it’s not new.”
There have been over 830 restrictive measures passed this year, according to analysis from Heatmap Pro, which breaks down to just over 80 per month. The numbers picked up substantially in the summer and fall.

June 15 to 21 was the busiest week of the year for passing data center laws, at 35, and June the month with the most laws passed overall, with 133. Another95 restrictive laws were passed in July, followed by 86 in October.
Of the 40 ballot measures passed this week, only one applied at the county level (Morgan County, Illinois), where a great deal of data center permitting occurs. “While many municipalities permit data centers, a significant portion are permitted by county governments. Not all counties have the legal authority to pursue ballot measures, which is why most November 2 measures were at the municipal level,” Curtin explained.
“While the overwhelming support for local data center ballot measures is indicative of public sentiment (largely anti-data center), it doesn’t necessarily correlate with the regulatory landscape,” he went on. And here’s a fun fact: “There are over 19,000 municipalities in the U.S., so 40 bans are only 0.2% of all municipalities,” Curtain added. “If 40 municipalities banned data centers every day, it would take 475 days to ban data centers across the entire U.S.”