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The 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act achieves some climate advocate wishlist items — and sets back others.

On Thursday, the Senate overwhelmingly approved the 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act, which has been touted by pundits and commentators across the ideological spectrum as the most significant housing package in decades. The bill is the result of eight months of work by legislators, beginning last July with the introduction of South Carolina Republican Senator Tim Scott and Massachusetts Democratic Senator Elizabeth Warren’s ROAD to Housing Act; continuing with the House’s Housing for the 21st Century Act, which passed in February; and concluding with Scott and Warren’s updated and unified bill, which was approved by the upper chamber Thursday by 89 votes to 10.
The bill still faces an uncertain future in the House, but its passage is nevertheless a milestone for U.S. federal housing policy — and, in less obvious ways, for climate policy. In addition to provisions addressing zoning and financial literacy, the 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act takes on a number of issues on the wishlist of climate and housing advocates. It also complicates or sets back other climate-related housing goals.
“For the climate community, which I consider myself firmly a part of, it’s really important to see the areas of the bill that don’t come anywhere close to talking about climate but have such a huge benefit,” Andrew Rumbach, a senior fellow in the Housing and Communities Division at the Urban Institute, told me.
Here’s our breakdown of the biggest climate-related provisions in the bill:
One of the most contentious parts of the Senate’s housing bill is section 901, which focuses on “build to rent” housing — that is, single-family and duplex communities that developers construct for the purpose of renting rather than selling as individually owned homes. The bill would restrict investors who directly or indirectly own 350 or more units from purchasing additional single-family homes; for homes that do meet certain exemptions, as well as for new build-to-rent construction, investors would be required to sell the home to an individual buyer within seven years. The rules are restrictive enough that opponents have taken to describing Section 901 as a build-to-rent “ban.”
Hawaii’s Democratic Senator Brian Schatz, a self-described climate hawk, is one of the leading voices advocating to nix the ban. (He was one of the 10 votes against the bill on Thursday.) In a floor speech on Wednesday night, Schatz said he considers the ban to be a “drafting error,” adding that it is “bananas” and “Soviet” to distinguish between single-family homes (which are described as two or fewer dwelling units, and include duplexes) and triplexes, and force their sale.
M. Nolan Gray, the senior director of legislation and research for California YIMBY, concurs. “The best case scenario is, we play weird shell games about which entity owns what,” he told me. “The worst case scenario is capital is scared off, and a lot of this housing production just stops.”
Mike Kingsella, the CEO of Up for Growth, a housing advocacy group that has pushed for an amendment to section 901 to soften the ban, told me, “What we’re saying to multi-family home developers is that it is fine if you do a garden-style apartment, but if you take the exact same property and you want to build houses on it, that’s not allowed.”
The implication, Kingsella said, is essentially that two-bedroom apartments should be built, but you cannot build three- to four-bedroom homes for a young family without the money for a down payment. Section 901 “takes a rung out of the ladder from the small studio you live in when you leave school and get your first job to when you eventually own your own home,” Kingsella said.
Another argument, however, is that the ban would push developers to create more high-density housing, such as apartment buildings, which are more energy-efficient and better for the environment than sprawling suburban single-family home developments. A ban on build-to-rent homes could also encourage greater investment in multi-bedroom apartments, which ought to be seen as a valuable housing solution in their own right rather than just as a stepping-stone to owning a single-family home, the argument goes. (Schatz’s team did not respond to a request for comment about this.)
Gray, however, was skeptical: “Maybe investors who are building townhouses in suburban Atlanta suddenly start building five-over-ones downtown,” he said, referring to buildings that consist of four residential floors over retail space, a common mixed-use construction. “But I wouldn’t assume it without any basis.”
Section 208 reclassifies smaller-scale projects funded by the Department of Housing and Urban Development into categories that require less extensive review under the National Environmental Policy Act, ostensibly to speed up housing construction. An expert I spoke to who requested anonymity to avoid retaliation by the government cautioned, though, that the reclassification doesn’t just cut red tape; it also removes the mechanism that requires HUD to ask questions like, “Is this site contaminated?” or “Is this building in a floodway?”
As written, the bill grants acquisitions of property a categorical exclusion under NEPA so long as whatever the agency does with the property does not “materially alter environmental conditions.” But not materially altering environmental conditions is meaningless in practice without a definition under NEPA, the expert explained, and it would allow regulators to interpret the law as waiving all site contamination and flood-risk requirements for acquisition projects that do not involve physical construction.
Let’s say a HUD grantee acquires a housing complex that was constructed on a polluted site — they would no longer have to screen for contamination because they aren’t physically altering the environment. Likewise, the bill would allow “Camp Mystic-style scenarios,” the expert said, referring to the July 4 Texas flood that killed 27 people, including 25 young campers. Under the Senate bill, acquiring an existing building in a flood zone would not require any environmental screening or adaptation measures.
Further, the bill does not waive liability under the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act, better known as the Superfund law. So if a grantee acquires a contaminated site and does not conduct environmental reviews, as permitted by section 208, they would still face federal liability for any contamination.
In practice, NEPA environmental reviews on HUD projects almost never generate public comments or result in litigation, meaning that this provision will not actually do much to speed construction. Section 208 is a “paper tiger,” the expert told me, exposing the low-income housing residents HUD is meant to help protect from contaminants and flood risk.
Section 203, a.k.a. the Whole-Home Repairs Act authorizes a five-year pilot program to offer grants and forgivable loans to qualifying homeowners and small landlords to fund upgrades related to energy and water efficiency, weatherization, habitability, and accessibility measures like ramps and grab bars. “The intention is to fund home repair and rehabilitation specifically for low- and moderate-income homeowners — think Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, the north Great Lakes region, Allegheny County, Pittsburgh, and so on,” Kingsella told me. “It’s for homes that are not in great repair, and that there’s not really an easy way to finance rehabilitation.”
The grants also address climate-related issues without using the radioactive word itself. Though the section doesn’t go into much detail about what energy and water efficiency or weatherization upgrades might entail, one named credentialing organization is the Energy Star program, the federal government’s energy efficiency standard-setting organization, which the Trump administration tried to kill last year. Congress later rescued the program in its 2026 budget, and the Senate reaffirmed its commitment to Energy Star in the housing bill. That’s significant in places like Appalachia, where the cost of energy can rival that of rent.
Kingsella also noted that experts anticipate Americans will move north over the next 10 to 15 years to places with cooler climates, putting a strain on the region’s older housing stock. “This type of resource positions those communities to proactively increase or boost attainable homes with the expectation that a lot more people will be moving into these places,” he said.
Another pilot outlined in the section 212 of the bill would establish a grant program to convert vacant or abandoned industrial and commercial buildings (think former warehouses, factories, hotels, and strip malls) into affordable housing. Grants would run between $1 million and $10 million — for reference, the conversion of an abandoned textile mill in Philadelphia’s Kensington neighborhood into 51 units of affordable housing cost $17.8 million in 2017 — and prioritize areas facing “economic distress.”
While cities like New York have explored converting empty office buildings into affordable housing, developers run into the problem that larger floor plans lack central window access, requiring either fewer units or expensive, extensive modifications, such as light wells down the core of the building. The RESIDE Act won’t support those kinds of conversions; it is more limited in scope and ambition, focusing instead on the types of conversions that are already happening in places like Cleveland and Pittsburgh — “northeastern cities with older commercial stock, which have smaller floor plates, which is critical,” Kingsella said.
The program’s budget comes from excess funds in the Home Improvement Partnerships Program, an existing HUD program. “The approach this bill takes is to set aside monies from home investments to property owners to do the conversion work,” Kingsella told me.
The Housing Supply Expansion Act in section 301 of the bill extends the definition of a manufactured home to include units that lack a “permanent chassis,” the steel frame that allows a home to be attached to wheels and move. The language makes the distinction between manufactured homes and modular homes much thinner, which advocates say will make the homes more socially acceptable and affordable.
“It lowers the cost of manufactured housing; it improves the resilience of manufactured housing — it’s great if it does not blow a hole in manufactured housing efficiency standards,” Mark Kresowik, a senior policy director at the American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy, told me.
About those efficiency standards: Section 301 also stipulates that “no energy efficiency standards for manufactured homes developed by any Federal agency shall have legal effect unless adopted by” HUD. That plays into a long-running tug-of-war between HUD and the Department of Energy over which agency has authority to set energy standards for this class of homes. The DOE issued stricter (and much-delayed) standards in 2022, while HUD has not updated its regulations since 1994. “If the HUD standards for manufactured housing are to have sufficient insulation, air sealing, efficiency requirements — then great,” Kresowik said. “If they aren’t, then this is a big problem.”
Section 501 formally establishes an Office of Disaster Management and Resiliency at HUD, creates a long-term disaster recovery fund in the U.S. Treasury, and establishes a permanent Community Development Block Grant Disaster Recovery program. “This is something that survivors, communities, and experts have been hoping for for many years,” Rumbach told me.
Though the language dances around extreme weather — the term, along with the word “climate,” appears not a single time in the bill — it is designed to more nimbly respond to catastrophes that are part and parcel with a warming atmosphere. Section 501 sets a 90-day clock for delivering disaster funds, compared to the years it would sometimes take previously, and requires that up to 18% of CDBG-DR allocations go toward mitigation.
One major loss for the climate coalition in the ROAD to Housing Act is the elimination of the Build More Housing Near Transit Act, which was included in the House’s version of the bill. The provision would have provided more incentives for building housing, which “seems like a common-sense reform to me,” Nolan Gray told me.
Though it’s not clear precisely why the Build More Housing Near Transit Act was a victim of compromise in the Senate bill, the House is reportedly rankled by liberties the upper chamber seemed to take with its version of the legislation. But despite voicing some drawbacks and reservations, advocates say the bill largely gets housing right. “There’s been a lot of good work put into this bill by countless people, and we continue to fight to ensure that this bill gets across the finish line,” Kingsella told me.
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We’re about to see what happens when big ideas become companies.
Before I covered energy and climate change, I was a technology journalist. And I remember 2011, 2012, and 2013 as a time of tremendous change.
Over the course of a few years, a procession of tech startups — including Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and Yelp — transitioned from being secretive industry darlings to normal publicly traded companies. All at once, social media companies that had once seemed cool and somewhat elusive turned into some of the biggest and most boring members of the Fortune 500. These companies didn’t become any less interesting to Wall Street, of course, and Facebook soon cemented itself as a profit titan. But the era when a social media startup could seem alluring, potent, and even darkly glamorous had concluded. With a shuffling of ownership papers, the avant garde became the old guard.
I wonder if the same thing is about to happen to the artificial intelligence business. For the past four years, AI startups have been among the most mysterious firms in the American economy. Their decisions reshape power grids and contort geopolitics, yet there has remained something strikingly informal about these organizations. Just as with the social media companies of the early 2010s, you can learn a lot about ChatGPT and Claude by following the right podcasts, newsletters, and X accounts — OpenAI and Anthropic employees disclose a tremendous amount of useful information in their efforts to out-hype each other.
But soon these startups will become … well, normal companies, too. Earlier this week, OpenAI confidentially filed with the Securities and Exchange Commission to offer its stock to the public. It revealed the filing on Monday because it expected the news to leak; executives cautioned that they might delay the offering because “there are things we want to do that are likely easier as a private company.” Earlier this month, Anthropic also filed with the SEC to go public as soon as the fall.
And of course SpaceX will conduct its IPO later this week — and it will likely be the largest public offering of all time.
These offerings might seem like they have little to do with the world of climate and energy. In fact, they matter to our part of the world quite a lot. That’s not only because they will generate a new surge of philanthropic and venture capital for decarbonization causes, as my colleague Katie Brigham wrote earlier this week.
It’s also because they mark a potential market-changing moment for climate-friendly companies that have, thus far, benefited from the AI boom. A number of low-carbon electricity firms — such as NextEra, Fervo, and T1 Energy — have surged as investors bet that electricity will become scarce in the AI era. That expectation, I should clarify, has been good for everyone in the power business, including coal and natural gas plant owners, but it has seriously helped the tranche of clean energy startups that initially planned to profit from the Inflation Reduction Act. Yet have AI-loving investors flocked to these energy startups because they could not buy equity from the frontier AI labs themselves? We’ll soon find out.
Meanwhile, I don’t think it’s set in yet how much SpaceX, in search of a pre-IPO narrative diversion, has reframed itself as a company that manufactures orbiting data centers. It has also signed big deals allowing Anthropic and Google to use its existing (and terrestrial) data centers. That’s partly to draft off the AI boom, too, of course — SpaceX absorbed Elon Musk’s xAI in February— but it’s also a response to the difficulty of getting a U.S. power grid hookup and the darkening permitting environment for data centers.
I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that I remember the early 2010s as a boom time for IPOs. So I was shocked to look back and discover that each year in that period only saw one or two major internet companies conduct initial stock sales. That era did not come anywhere close to the current fervor; this year, we’ll see as many as three era-defining companies go live within months of each other. We’re in a mind-bending moment — and we shouldn’t forget that.
Seattle practiced responding to a heat dome during the international soccer tournament. It didn’t go well.
Welcome to Seattle! If you’re one of the 750,000 visitors in town to watch the 2026 North American FIFA World Cup, you’re going to love it here. For one thing, you’ve arrived just in time for the city to suspend its interminable construction for the games. That’s a plus! Be sure to check out our newly pedestrianized Pike Place Market and stroll along the waterfront to “Seattle Stadium” (or sound like a local and call it “Qwest”). You might even get a little chilly from the wind off the bay — you can thank our “temperate, oceanic climate” for that. It’s what makes Seattle the safest place in the United States to attend (or play in) a World Cup game, per researchers at Queen’s University Belfast — at least, from the perspective of extreme heat.
That’s worth bragging about. Extreme heat has been a concern at almost every subsequent World Cup going back to the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, including the 2022 tournament in Qatar, which FIFA had to reschedule to the winter. The 2026 World Cup could get dicey, too. Of the 104 scheduled matches in 16 host cities in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico over the next month, at least half have a 50% chance or greater of being played in temperatures of 82 degrees Fahrenheit or higher, according to research by Climate Central — that being the threshold at which player performance begins to suffer, with athletes slowing down, getting sick, and making poorer decisions because of the heat. The odds of there being impairing heat during the World Cup final in New York on July 19 are basically a coin flip, and 17% higher than they otherwise would have been due to climate change-induced warming.
All of that is just part of what makes Seattle’s host city status so appealing. There is only about a 3% chance of performance-impairing heat during its two mid-June fixtures, rising to 6% later in the month and into July.
Unless, of course, there’s another heat dome.
In 2021, temperatures in Seattle peaked at 108 degrees on June 28, which this year will fall between when the city hosts Egypt vs. Iran and a Round of 32 match. Needless to say, 108 degrees is not just perspiration-inducing; it is well beyond the 89.6-degree wet-bulb globe temperature threshold at which FIFA considers postponing matches. While the possibility of another heat dome in the next few weeks is admittedly an edge case — before 2021, Seattle had only touched 100 degrees three times in 126 years of recorded-keeping— it’s still a realistic enough possibility that last spring, the National Weather Service’s Seattle office ran a tabletop exercise with its local partners to game out just that.
“Before 2021, heat [in Seattle] was just another hazard alongside fire and smoke and those sorts of things,” Reid Wolcott, the warning coordination meteorologist with the NWS Seattle, who helped lead the two-day-long run-through, told me. The heat dome “really highlighted that heat is a powerful hazard that can cause significant loss of life.”
After more than 400 people died in Washington alone, the NWS dedicated considerable time and resources to its heat preparedness and messaging in the Pacific Northwest. Beginning in 2022, the National Integrated Heat Health Information System began offering technical support for heat tabletop exercises in communities around the country. Seattle was supposed to participate in 2024 but “due to some logistical reasons, we ended up delaying it until 2025,” Wolcott said. “And because of that, we were like, We’re well on our way into World Cup planning, here.”
The idea of the “Heat Dome Cup” exercise was to kill two birds with one stone — to test the Seattle area’s response four years after the heat dome, as well as its ability to respond to a weather crisis when thousands of visitors are in the city for the World Cup. Participants included representatives from surrounding cities such as Bellevue, Everett, and Portland, Oregon; county-level offices including from climate, emergency management, and public health; the University of Washington; and the Port Gamble S’Klallam Tribe.
The results of the exercise were both encouraging and not: For every core capability tested, from “threat/hazard identification” to “communication” and “community resilience,” the after-action report found that Seattle “performed with some challenges.” There was “limited local data” on the compounding hazards of heat, cooling center efficiency, and — particularly alarming — the local healthcare system’s ability to respond during such an event. “Prehospital triage, surge planning, and better integration with public health systems are urgently needed,” the report found. Because paramedics attempt to bring down a heat stroke patients’ temperature before transporting them to a hospital — a laborious process often involving filling a home bathtub with ice, setting the patient in it, and waiting — the emergency response during heat events is slow, and can quickly back up and overwhelm the system.
Heat Dome Cup partners directed my questions about King County’s readiness to handle extreme heat during the World Cup to the public health office, which told me no one was available for an interview.
Carlos Martinez, a senior climate scientist with the climate and energy program at the Union of Concerned Scientists who did not participate in the exercise, told me that after reading the report, he hopes that “there’s a recognition and awareness of the fact that there’s a lot of work that needs to be done.” He also flagged an observation from the exercise regarding the development of stronger workplace protections during the World Cup.
“That sometimes can be neglected,” he went on. “You have folks in construction, food service, retail, landscaping, and sanitation who work a full day outside during these events. What are the protocols that are out there to ensure that they are protected from heat-related illnesses?”
I put the question to Hollie Stark, the communications coordinator for the Office of Emergency Management in Seattle. (While Stark’s office participated in the exercise, Stark did not.) She told me that Washington’s Department of Labor & Industries offers recommendations for how employers can protect their workers from heat and smoke, including running trainings and publishing posters and pocket cards in multiple languages that promote offering adequate water, shade, and breaks. “We’re thinking about maybe bars and places that might be hosting [FIFA viewing parties] that don’t have access to AC but might have an influx of people,” she said as a hypothetical, “and we’re encouraging them to listen to those recommendations.”
In general, the people I spoke with in Seattle who were involved in the exercise acknowledged that messaging and communication were the areas the city struggled with the most. “That has definitely been the single biggest thing — trying to make sure that we’re all singing from the same sheet of music,” Wolcott told me. “Because we weren’t prior to 2021.”
One of the biggest hurdles has been figuring out exactly how to communicate potential extreme heat warnings to the thousands of visitors traveling to Seattle. During my conversations with officials involved in the Heat Dome Cup, officials pointed me to myriad preparedness websites, real-time risk tools, opt-in alert systems, and health and safety resources for out-of-town visitors, which left me — a local fluent in English — feeling even more confused.
Language itself is one thing — on that front, Stark told me her office has already pre-scripted messaging for extreme heat translated into Spanish and the eight threshold languages of King County — Vietnamese, Somali, Russian, Chinese, Korean, Amharic, Arabic, and Ukrainian — as well as seven additional World Cup spectator-specific languages — Arabic, Farsi, Dutch, French, Bosnian, Serbian, and Croatian. But one of the threats of having a heat dome during a major sporting event is that “you have a lot of visitors coming from all different parts of the world,” Wolcott said. “Some come from locations where they are probably more acclimated to heat than we are, but some may be coming from areas that are cooler climates than ours.” Proper acclimation can take weeks, if not an entire season — far longer than most spectators will be in town.
But perhaps the biggest takeaway is that a heat dome isn’t required for people to be under heat stress, even in a place as temperate as Seattle. Wolcott told me the NWS’s seasonal outlook for the summer in the region indicates above-average temperatures, and while that “does increase the risk of a heat event occurring, it has nothing to do with the actual magnitude of it. You could have a 2021-level event, or you could have 30 smaller events, and there is no way to tell exactly what’s going to happen.”
Indeed, even fairly moderate temperatures can sneak up on spectators. While FIFA is in charge of making decisions that impact their athletes’ health, Shel Winkley, the senior engagement specialist and meteorologist at Climate Central, pointed out that “fans are still sitting in the sun in the heat, and if they’re fans like me, they’re not drinking water during [the FIFA-mandated in-game] cooling breaks.” Spectators get to the stadium early, stand in long lines in the sun, sit in crowded stadiums with potentially no shade — and essentially endure an entire day of heat, even if the temperatures seemed manageable when they walked out their hotel door.
At this point, there is nothing to indicate Seattle’s worst-case scenario will come true. (Stark also mentioned that a true worst-case scenario more likely involves the Big One than extreme heat, but we won’t go there.) But “just because historically the odds are low” for a heat dome in the Seattle area “doesn’t mean that they’re zero,” Winkley said.
Martinez, the climate scientist with UCS, stressed to me that while the Heat Dome Cup was an engaging thought experiment, bringing together 30 distinct partners for two whole days, he fears that a gutted NWS and Federal Emergency Management Agency might lack the funding or personnel to act on the weaknesses the exercise exposed. “If you have this one exercise but no follow-through, that can risk eroding trust by those populations who gave time out of their day to come and speak to the federal government about the importance of this issue,” he told me. “We shouldn’t just do this for well-renowned events. This should be an evergreen thing.”
But Wolcott, the lead on the Heat Dome Cup, sounded to me like he was at the end of a long marathon when I spoke to him. “I’ve been planning for [the World Cup] for three years now. I’m ready for it to be over,” he told me, laughing.
“We are always doing this; it was just one exercise that we did last May,” he added. “I’m just looking forward to late July at this point.”
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Cristina is inching north toward landfall in Central America, threatening floods, landslides, and winds of up to 73 miles per hour • Washington, D.C., is poised for rain for the rest of the week as temperatures rise to nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit by Friday • By contrast, Cartersville, Georgia, where the solar manufacturer Qcells just started up its factory, is looking at a two-day break of sunshine from an otherwise gray and wet forecast.
At the start of 2023, South Korea’s biggest solar manufacturer, Qcells, began construction on a sweeping new factory northwest of Atlanta in Cartersville, Georgia. Betting that U.S. tariffs on Chinese solar panels were here to stay, the company gambled on bringing most of the supply chain under one roof. On Tuesday, Qcells started producing solar cells at the plant, marking what it called “a major milestone toward completing the country’s only vertically integrated solar manufacturing plant.” The firm expects to reach full production by the third quarter of this year. The factory’s module assembly line, meanwhile, is now at full capacity, building 16,700 panels per day. “Producing the first solar cells at Cartersville is a milestone for Qcells and for American manufacturing,” Andy Park, the global chief executive of Qcells, said in a statement. “As our ingot, wafer, and cell lines reach full capacity, we’ll be making the major components of a solar panel right here in Georgia.”
The U.S. could be seeing the start of a small solar boom. Last year alone, at least 30 new utility-scale solar factories came online, as Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo reported last month.
Over the weekend, as I told you on Monday, a federal court blocked the Trump administration’s rules for using the soon-to-expire tax writeoffs for investing in or producing electricity from solar panels and wind turbines. But with just 24 days to go until the tax credits officially end, few developers are likely to move quickly enough to benefit from the ruling. “Practically speaking, I don’t think this is likely to have much impact on the market or behavior in the coming weeks,” Heather Cooper, a tax lawyer at McDermott Will & Schulte, told E&E News. “The deadline is less than four weeks away.”
Investments into electrical grids are on track to surpass $650 billion globally this year, according to new data from the consultancy Rystad Energy. That’s up 5% from last year and more than double the investments recorded in 2020, PV Magazine reported. The high cost comes as long lead times and pricy components for transformers, high-voltage circuit breakers, and switchgears strain and stall upgrades and expansions to power systems all over the world. The soaring growth of wind and solar is propelling grid investments, which are needed to patch more intermittent and often far-flung renewables onto the system. In 2010, wind and solar made up just 2% of global generation. By 2040, Rystad expects them to make up nearly half the mix.
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Everyone recognizes Canada as a major oil producer, metal miner, and hydroelectricity generator. But did you know the Canucks are not just a serious player in nuclear power, but actually have their own domestically-designed reactor that can run on raw uranium? Get this, it even has a catchy name: the CANDU. Pronounced CAN-do and short for Canada Deuterium Uranium, the pressurized heavy water reactors are among the only commercial designs in the world that can run on unenriched, natural uranium. The advantage, especially for a country like Canada with vast uranium deposits, is that they’re faster to build, cheaper to fuel, and free of the international scrutiny that comes with enriching uranium. The downside is that they break down faster than the light water reactors that make up the entirety of the U.S. fleet. But Canada is demonstrating that isn’t a big problem. On Monday, the Bruce nuclear power station brought its Unit 3 reactor back online, completing refurbishments seven months early and $107 million under budget, NucNet reported. You don’t need to know a lot about the American or European nuclear industries to know “early and under budget” aren’t words typically associated with any recent or ongoing projects.
The best-proven way to make truly green steel involves turning iron ore into direct reduced iron through a process that, when powered by green hydrogen instead of natural gas, significantly slashes any carbon emissions associated with its production. Assuming it’s finished off in an electric arc furnace, it’s green steel — and even greener if that final process was powered by renewables or nuclear. Yet despite some high-profile projects, green hydrogen has remained too expensive in the West, even as China’s industry starts to boom. That could be changing. On Tuesday, the German steelmaker Salzgitter inked its first major offtake agreement for green hydrogen from the supplier EWE, Hydrogen Insight reported. One of Germany’s largest steel producers, Salzgitter will buy roughly 10,000 metric tons of hydrogen per year from the electrolyzer plant EWE is building in Emden, near the Dutch border.
Meanwhile in America, U.S. Steel unveiled plans to invest up to $2.5 billion into upgrading the Mon Valley Works, southeast of Pittsburgh. The renovations come after Japanese steel giant Nippon’s takeover of the iconic American firm last year. To win President Donald Trump’s blessing, Nippon gave the federal government a “golden share” in the company. As Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote last year, that could ultimately give a future administration leverage to press U.S. Steel to green its operations.

If you’re booking a flight right now, you might not yet be feeling the difference. But U.S. production of jet fuel has reached record highs as refiners scramble to respond to soaring prices following the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. By the start of May, the four-week average estimate of fuel production surpassed 2 million barrels per day for the first time on record, according to new analysis by the Energy Information Administration. But with domestic inventories still relatively high, much of that increased production is being exported.