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What we learned about “energy dominance” on Day One.

Here we go: On Monday, Donald Trump was sworn in as the 47th president of the United States.
Surrounded by some of the country’s richest men, including Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and the oil magnate Harold Hamm, Trump rejected what he called a “radical and corrupt establishment” that has “extracted power and wealth from our citizens” while promising a new golden age for the United States.
At the center of that golden age, he said, was an almost totally unregulated fossil fuel economy. “Today I will also declare a national energy emergency,” he said. “We will drill, baby, drill.”
Over the next 12 hours, he signed a series of executive orders that relaxed protections across the oil and gas sector while imposing costly new restrictions on wind turbines, electric vehicles, and other forms of renewable energy. He demonstrated that his extreme vision for the American government — a new order where the executive reigns supreme and Congress does not control the power of the purse — will run straight through his climate and energy policy.
You could see in his actions, too, what could become fragility in his governing coalition — times and situations where he might too eagerly slap a cost on a friend because he believes they are a foe.
But all that remains in the future. For now, Trump is in charge.
Trump’s first day was about undermining climate policy in virtually any form that he could find. Soon after taking the oath, Trump began the process of pulling the United States out of the Paris Agreement on climate change. He announced a broad freeze on virtually all federal wind energy permits, throwing at least one large-scale onshore wind farm into chaos while smothering virtually all offshore wind energy projects, including several planned for the East Coast. He moved to weaken energy and water efficiency rules for lightbulbs, showerheads, washing machines, and dishwashers. He began the multi-year process of rewriting the Environmental Protection Agency’s rules on tailpipe pollution from cars and light trucks, which he has described as lifting the federal government’s “EV mandate.” And he promised to open up new tracts of federal land for oil and gas drilling, including in the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge.
But most important were a series of executive actions that Trump signed in the late evening, many under the bearing of a “national energy emergency.” In these orders, Trump told the Environmental Protection Agency to study whether carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases are dangerous air pollutants. This question has been a matter of settled science for decades — and, more importantly, has not been under legal dispute since 2009. In the same set of orders, Trump lifted federal environmental and permitting rules, potentially setting up a move that could force blue states — particularly those in the Northeast and West Coast — to accept new oil and gas pipelines and refineries.
Finally, and most importantly, Trump asserted the right to freeze virtually all ongoing federal spending under the Inflation Reduction Act — and the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law — for 90 days. Even after this time elapses, funding programs will have to be approved by the White House Office of Management and Budget. This move places at least tens of millions of dollars of federal contracts at risk, and it raises questions about the federal government’s ability to operate as a reliable counterparty. It is also of dubious Constitutionality because it appears to violate Congress’s sole authority over federal spending.
The stated goal of many of these policies is to bring down energy costs for American consumers. The president’s national energy emergency, for example, takes as its premise that the country is growing its energy supply too slowly. The United States, it suggests, is at imminent risk of running out of energy for new technology. (You might ask yourself why — if this is the case — Trump has also frozen all federal wind projects. But then you misunderstand Trump’s particular genius.)
Yet bringing down costs will be difficult. Energy costs — and particularly oil costs — are already low. Today, as Trump’s second term begins, gasoline stands at $3.13 a gallon, according to AAA. That’s about five cents above where it stood a year ago, and it’s within the inflation-adjusted range where gas prices hovered for much of Trump’s first term. (Oil prices crashed in 2020 because of the pandemic, but the industry — and the American public — would obviously prefer not to repeat that debacle.)
How much further could energy prices fall? Look at it this way: A barrel of oil in the U.S. costs $76 today, per the West Texas benchmark. (The international benchmark, called Brent, is a smidge higher at $79.) Last year, oil producers across much of the Permian Basin reported that they could break even only if oil stayed at or above about $66 a barrel. The rough rule of thumb is that for a $1 change in the per-barrel oil price, drivers will eventually see a roughly 2.5 cent change in prices at the pump. You can see how hard it will be to push oil prices down to record lows, at least with current levels of economic activity, interest rates, and demand volumes.
Which isn’t to say that it’s impossible. Trump will have advantages when dealing with the oil and gas industry that his immediate predecessor did not enjoy. Chief among these is that the industry’s leaders like him, want to see him succeed, and will be more willing to do favors for him — even if it means suffering thinner margins. These may help keep a lid on electricity prices, which are far more sensitive to natural gas and which really are set to surge as a new wave of factories, EVs, and data centers comes online.
Maybe! We’ll see. When you look closer, what stands out about Trump’s policies is how few of them are designed to lower energy prices. Instead, they aim to do virtually the opposite: shore up oil and gas demand. According to The Wall Street Journal, ensuring demand for oil and gas products — and not deregulating drilling further — is what the industry has asked Trump to do. That makes sense. The United States is, at the moment, producing more oil and gas than any country in world history. The fossil fuel industry’s problem isn’t getting gas out of the ground, but finding people to sell it to. By suspending fuel economy and energy efficiency rules, Trump can force Americans to use more energy — and spend more on oil and gas — to do the same amount of useful work.
In other places, what stands out about Trump’s policies is their incoherence — and how few of his constituencies they will satisfy. Late on Monday, Trump suggested that he might impose 25% tariffs on Canada and Mexico as soon as February 1. Such an action would quickly harm key segments of the American energy industry. Canada exports about $124 billion of crude oil to the United States every year — much of it a heavy, sludgy petroleum from the Albertan oil sands. That sludge is piped across North America, then fed into U.S. refineries, where it helps produce a large portion of America’s fuel supply. (Alberta’s heavy, sulfurous sludge is particularly well-suited to mixing with the light, sweet crude produced by American frackers.) Should Trump impose those tariffs, in other words, he would gambol into a self-imposed energy crisis.
Tariffs are not the only place where Trump could undermine his own policies. One of his executive orders on Monday aimed to establish America as “the leading producer and processor of non-fuel minerals, including rare earth minerals”; three clauses later, it announced an end to the federal government’s so-called “EV mandate.”
But by kneecapping demand for electric vehicles, Trump will hurt the critical minerals industry more than any anti-growth hippie could fathom. For the past few years, corporate America and Wall Street have invested billions of dollars in lithium and rare-earths mining and processing facilities across the country. These projects, which are largely in Republican districts, only make financial sense in a world where the United States produces a large and growing number of electric vehicles: EVs make up the lion’s share of future demand for lithium, rare earth elements, and other geostrategically sensitive rocks, and any mines or refining facilities will only pencil out in a world where EVs purchase their output. If Trump kills the non-Tesla part of the EV industry, then he will also mortally harm those projects’ economics.
Energy is a strange issue. Although it is one of the key inputs into the modern industrial economy, millions of Americans engage with it as an expressive, symbolic matter — as just another battleground in the culture war. Today, Donald Trump has become the most powerful American in that category. On his first day in office, he has demonstrated that he will use energy policy to advance his extreme ideas about how the Constitution and presidential authority works. How far he gets now will depend on what the American public, business leaders, congressional Republicans, and the Supreme Court’s arch-conservative majority will accept — and whether his fragile constituency is really ready to pay the costs of “American greatness.”
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The two economic booms resemble each other somewhat. But data centers have a far more dire PR problem.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
In Pennsylvania, the governor required data center developers to comply with new restrictions. Texas began its mandatory audit for grid-connected data centers. And Nebraska limited tax incentives for data centers and started a new task force.
In Wisconsin’s governor race, candidates began posturing over who will treat data centers the toughest; in Michigan’s Senate race, the GOP candidate Mike Rogers called for a statewide moratorium on them. A Politico analysis found that of the more than 100 campaign ads mentioning data centers this election, none have put the technology in a positive light.
It makes sense, then, that when Heatmap published its most recent polling on data centers — finding that 75% of Americans oppose their local development — it seemed to blow up. But there’s one aspect of that polling that I want to discuss here, because I think it has been underacknowledged.
It’s this: According to our polling, data centers are about as unpopular in urban areas as rural areas. They’re slightly less unpopular in the suburbs.
The differences in disapproval, to be clear, aren’t enormous. Local data center development is 63 points underwater in rural areas and 60 points underwater in urban areas. That’s close enough to our poll’s 2.3% margin of error that it may just be noise. Even in the suburbs, data center development is 58 points underwater — a small distinction.
But it represents a big shift from the political geography of recent decades, where cities and rural areas have tended to disagree profoundly over policy. Since the 2000 election or so, cities have elected Democrats, rural areas have picked Republicans, and then the parties have fought over the suburbs.
Data centers, however, appear to unite these two partisan bases against some of the country’s largest companies — and some of our political systems’ odder ducks. Heatmap’s polling earlier this year found that AI YIMBYs tend to be urban, largely Trump-voting men who are optimistic about technology. And in March, the Republican pollster Echelon Insights found that some of data centers’ biggest fans were MAGA Republicans with graduate degrees living in cities.
These results help explain why Republicans have suddenly turned on a dime against data centers: Their base has rejected it. As a political reporter friend put it to me, after looking at our data, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a trend that’s uniting college-educated and non-college-educated Americans.
In trying to understand this transition, I’ve tried to think about other technologies that have undergone similar investment booms in recent American history. One oft-made comparison is fracking, which expanded quickly across the country in the 2010s. Many commentators — myself included — have suggested that data centers may follow fracking’s example, where blue states ban a new type of economic activity and red states welcome it. The red (and sometimes purple) states then get to reap much of the resulting economic growth — and the tax receipts — while everyone has to deal with the emissions. The revelation that data centers are driving a new natural gas boom only deepens the link.
But there’s one big problem with that analogy: Fracking was never this unpopular. While fracking has rarely commanded a large majority of support among the mass public, its popular nadir came in spring 2020, when 60% of Americans told Pew that they opposed an expansion of fracking. (Its popularity began to recover after President Biden took office — a classic case of thermostatic public opinion.)
In every poll that we could find at Heatmap, too, expanding fracking always commanded a majority of Republican support. Throughout the 2010s and 2020s, rank-and-file Republicans have wanted to “drill, baby, drill.” But they don’t seem to want to “compute, baby, compute.” And that means — among other things — energy and climate analysts like me need to find another analogy.
Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”