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The government agency is quietly funding some of the industry’s most exciting early stage companies.
When the George W. Bush administration established the Advanced Research Projects Agency - Energy, better known as ARPA-E, the number one goal for the new agency sounded an ambitious and patriotic note: “To enhance the economic and energy security of the United States through the development of energy technologies.” And from that uncontroversial foundation, a bipartisan bastion of cleantech innovation was born.
I knew I wanted to dig into the critical role that ARPA-E plays in the climate tech funding landscape after Rajesh Swaminathan, a partner at Khosla Ventures, told me that he views the agency as the “least talked about VC in town.” So I reached out to ARPA-E’s director, Evelyn Wang, to learn more.
Of course, ARPA-E isn’t actually a venture capital firm — it provides no-strings-attached funding to promising energy projects rather than aiming for a return on investment. “So a little bit different,” Wang told me. “Our mission is very much focused on energy independence, reducing greenhouse gas emissions, and enhancing energy efficiency.”
The Bush administration established ARPA-E in 2007 with the passage of the America COMPETES Act, which aimed to improve the technological competitiveness of the United States via investments in research and development. But the agency was funded for the first time in 2009, under Obama, as a part of an $800 billion stimulus package in response to the Great Recession. A substantial chunk of that funding — $90 billion — was allocated for clean energy, which the administration would go on to boast amounted to the “largest single investment in clean energy in history.”
Yet whether it’s been Bush or Obama — or Trump or Biden — in the White House, the messaging around ARPA-E has always trended less towards renewables and climate mitigation and more towards energy security and economic competitiveness. As the name suggests, ARPA-E is modeled after the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA, which was established in 1958 in response to the Soviet’s launch of the Sputnik satellite. DARPA has since helped birth such little-known tech as the entire internet, GPS, automated voice recognition, and self-driving cars.
But while the de facto customer for DARPA-developed tech is always the Department of Defense, the pathway to commercialization for ARPA-E projects mainly relies on private sector interest. In that sense, the goal of ARPA-E is neatly aligned with that of venture capitalists: Get tech to market. Because while scientific learnings are all well and good, Wang said that “ultimately, we need to see these technologies commercialized — to actually be out there — to actually affect the ecosystem and change the energy landscape.”
Since ARPA-E can eschew the profit motive, it’s able to fund high-risk, high-reward projects at the earliest stages, when most investors would be reluctant to take on that level of uncertainty. Yet the inherent risk means the success rate for ARPA-E projects as measured by metrics such as the number of companies it’s spawned (157), exits via mergers, acquisitions or IPOs (30), and additional partnerships with other government agencies (360), can seem low compared to the 1,590 projects that the agency has funded over the past 15 years. A climate tech investor I spoke with on background told me that while they love ARPA-E and are glad it exists, they were expecting more success stories by now.
That’s at least partially because even after a project is funded and proof-of-concept has been demonstrated, there’s often still a ways to go before investors are ready to jump in. “I think when we first stood up ARPA-E, the idea was that at that point, it would be sufficiently de-risked for the private sector to then pick it up and invest,” Wang told me. But frequently, that hasn’t been the case. ARPA-E usually funds projects for one to three years, but often climate tech innovation relies on deeply complex and thus inherently slow advancements in science and engineering — think fusion energy, novel battery development, or direct air capture. Many venture funds have 10 year time horizons, so if investors don’t see a payoff happening in that timeframe, they’ll probably hold back.
The investor I spoke with on background told me that ARPA-E has become more effective in partnership with the Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations, established in 2021 under the Department of Energy, which uses its $25 billion budget to create model buildouts of new technology with private sector partners. Earlier this year, OCED selected six ARPA-E awardees focused on industrial decarbonization to receive a combined total of up to $775 million.
Even so, the investor told me, ARPA-E funding alone still might not be enough to get companies to a place where OCED would be interested. To help close that gap, ARPA-E started a program called SCALEUP, a mouthful of an acronym for The Seeding Critical Advances for Leading Energy (Technologies) with Untapped Potential, in 2019. It provides a small number of ARPA-E projects with follow-on funding to further prove out their concepts — provided they can identify at least one commercialization partner such as a potential customer, end-user, or supplier willing to take a stake in the development of the tech and help it get to market.
So far, Wang says the program has yielded some successes. The list includes LongPath Technologies, which monitors methane emissions and leaks in the oil and gas industry and received a conditional loan last year from the DOE’s Loan Programs Office; Natron Energy, which just opened the first commercial-scale sodium-ion battery production facility in the U.S.; and Sila, a battery materials manufacturer that has raised over $1.3 billion in total, and secured contracts with Mercedes-Benz and Panasonic.
When you look at ARPA-E’s success rate in terms of dollars in and dollars out, though, it starts to look pretty darn efficacious as is. Since 2009, ARPA-E has provided more than $3.8 billion for research and development, leading to over $12.6 billion in private-sector follow-on funding, while the 30 exits to date have yielded a combined market valuation of $22.2 billion. And since it often takes climate tech companies around a decade to mature to the point where they’re ready for an exit event, many of ARPA-E’s companies have yet to reach the acquisition or IPO threshold.
These days, ARPA-E projects are facing a completely different funding landscape than in the 2000s — one ripe with both excitement and cash as well as increasing competition. So while Wang told me that the agency’s goal is always to look for “technological whitespace” in the energy landscape, “it's getting more crowded,” she said. “And I think in that context, we've strategically decided that we should also think about broader vision type efforts.” To that end, ARPA-E has identified three comprehensive focus areas: developing clean primary energy sources such as geothermal, small modular nuclear reactors, fusion and geologic hydrogen; power delivery for non-electrical sources, such as energy transported via hydrogen or heat; and figuring out how to source carbon sustainably, such as via engineered plants and algae.
Now that ARPA-E has been supporting projects for a decade and a half, it’s getting more experimental when it comes to developing novel testbeds for its tech. Exhibit A is the San Antonio International Airport, which recently signed a memorandum of understanding with the agency to deploy a series of ARPA-E backed technologies.
Many major airports are actually higher tech than passengers may realize, and given the mounting pressure on the aviation industry to decarbonize, they’re also open to novel sustainability solutions. In San Antonio, the airport is deploying EV chargers from Imagen Energy and sodium-ion battery tech from Natron Energy, both of which could help electrify their ground vehicles, as well as a distributed energy management system from Autogrid, which allows airports to control their virtual power plants, microgrids, EV fleet, and demand response measures. Other tech, such as hybrid-electric planes from Ampaire, could be integrated into the airport in the future.
That’s a lot of technology development for not many headlines. And when a company raises a major round or goes public, sometimes you have to dig deep to discover their ARPA-E origins. Hence, the “least talked about VC in town” comment. In some sense, Wang says, this is intentional.
“When we think about success, if our teams, our companies are successful, and they shine, then we shine,” she told me, and maybe that’s the way it should continue to be. Because while advertising government investment in anything seen as “clean” or “green” can immediately draw both partisan praise and ire, funding for ARPA-E has been steadily creeping up nearly every year since 2015. And yes, that includes the Trump era, even though the former president seemingly wanted to axe the agency altogether. Congress, it turned out, was not on board with that plan.
“Our mission is about energy independence and bolstering our economy and I think everyone agrees with this mission,” Wang told me. “Everyone,” of course, will always be an overstatement. But perhaps Wang is right that the agency does function better as a behind-the-scenes player. As she put it, speaking of the companies the agency funds, “It’s more about them, right? And how that affects the ecosystem, and helps our nation in terms of what we need to do as a country, and how that sets an example for the world.”
Editor’s note: This story initially misstated the size of the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act and the amount of funding allocated to clean energy.
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Why killing a government climate database could essentially gut a tax credit
The Trump administration’s bid to end an Environmental Protection Agency program may essentially block any company — even an oil firm — from accessing federal subsidies for capturing carbon or producing hydrogen fuel.
On Friday, the Environmental Protection Agency proposed that it would stop collecting and publishing greenhouse gas emissions data from thousands of refineries, power plants, and factories across the country.
The Trump administration argues that the scheme, known as the Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program, costs more than $2 billion and isn’t legally required under the Clean Air Act. Lee Zeldin, the EPA administrator, described the program as “nothing more than bureaucratic red tape that does nothing to improve air quality.”
But the program is more important than the Trump administration lets on. It’s true that the policy, which required more than 8,000 different facilities around the country to report their emissions, helped the EPA and outside analysts estimate the country’s annual greenhouse gas emissions.
But it did more than that. Over the past decade, the program had essentially become the master database of carbon pollution and emissions policy across the American economy. “Essentially everything the federal government does related to emissions reductions is dependent on the [Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program],” Jack Andreasen Cavanaugh, a fellow at the Center on Global Energy Policy at Columbia University, told me.
That means other federal programs — including those that Republicans in Congress have championed — have come to rely on the EPA database.
Among those programs: the federal tax credit for capturing and using carbon dioxide. Republicans recently increased the size of that subsidy, nicknamed 45Q after a section of the tax code, for companies that turn captured carbon into another product or use it to make oil wells more productive. Those changes were passed in President Trump’s big tax and spending law over the summer.
But Zeldin’s scheme to end the Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program would place that subsidy off limits for the foreseeable future. Under federal law, companies can only claim the 45Q tax credit if they file technical details to the EPA’s emissions reporting program.
Another federal tax credit, for companies that use carbon capture to produce hydrogen fuel, also depends on the Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program. That subsidy hasn’t received the same friendly treatment from Republicans, and it will now phase out in 2028.
The EPA program is “the primary mechanism by which companies investing in and deploying carbon capture and hydrogen projects quantify the CO2 that they’re sequestering, such that they qualify for tax incentives,” Jane Flegal, a former Biden administration appointee who worked on industrial emissions policy, told me. She is now the executive director of the Blue Horizons Foundation.
“The only way for private capital to be put to work to deploy American carbon capture and hydrogen projects is to quantify the carbon dioxide that they’re sequestering, in some way,” she added. That’s what the EPA program does: It confirms that companies are storing or using as much carbon as they claim they are to the IRS.
The Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program is “how the IRS communicates with the EPA” when companies claim the 45Q credit, Cavanaugh said. “The IRS obviously has taxpayer-sensitive information, so they’re not able to give information to the EPA about who or what is claiming the credit.” The existence of the database lets the EPA then automatically provide information to the IRS, so that no confidential tax information is disclosed.
Zeldin’s announcement that the EPA would phase out the program has alarmed companies planning on using the tax credit. In a statement, the Carbon Capture Coalition — an alliance of oil companies, manufacturers, startups, and NGOs — called the reporting program the “regulatory backbone” of the carbon capture tax credit.
“It is not an understatement that the long-term success of the carbon management industry rests on the robust reporting mechanisms” in the EPA’s program, the group said.
Killing the EPA program could hurt American companies in other ways. Right now, companies that trade with European firms depend on the EPA data to pass muster with the EU’s carbon border adjustment tax. It’s unclear how they would fare in a world with no EPA data.
It could also sideline GOP proposals. Senator Bill Cassidy, a Republican from Louisiana, has suggested that imports to the United States should pay a foreign pollution fee — essentially, a way of accounting for the implicit subsidy of China’s dirty energy system. But the data to comply with that law would likely come from the EPA’s greenhouse gas database, too.
Ending the EPA database wouldn’t necessarily spell permanent doom for the carbon capture tax credit, but it would make it much harder to use in the years to come. In order to re-open the tax credit for applications, the Treasury Department, the Energy Department, the Interior Department, and the EPA would have to write new rules for companies that claim the 45Q credit. These rules would go to the end of the long list of regulations that the Treasury Department must write after Trump’s spending law transformed the tax code.
That could take years — and it could sideline projects now under construction. “There are now billions of dollars being invested by the private sector and the government in these technologies, where the U.S. is positioned to lead globally,” Flegal said. Changing the rules would “undermine any way for the companies to succeed.”
Ditching the EPA database, however, very well could doom carbon capture-based hydrogen projects. Under the terms of Trump’s tax law, companies that want to claim the hydrogen credit must begin construction on their projects by 2028.
The Trump administration seems to believe, too, that gutting the EPA database may require new rules for the carbon capture tax credit. When asked for comment, an EPA spokesperson pointed me to a line in the agency’s proposal: “We anticipate that the Treasury Department and the IRS may need to revise the regulation,” the legal proposal says. “The EPA expects that such amendments could allow for different options for stakeholders to potentially qualify for tax credits.”
The EPA spokesperson then encouraged me to ask the Treasury Department for anything more about “specific implications.”
Paradise, California, is snatching up high-risk properties to create a defensive perimeter and prevent the town from burning again.
The 2018 Camp Fire was the deadliest wildfire in California’s history, wiping out 90% of the structures in the mountain town of Paradise and killing at least 85 people in a matter of hours. Investigations afterward found that Paradise’s town planners had ignored warnings of the fire risk to its residents and forgone common-sense preparations that would have saved lives. In the years since, the Camp Fire has consequently become a cautionary tale for similar communities in high-risk wildfire areas — places like Chinese Camp, a small historic landmark in the Sierra Nevada foothills that dramatically burned to the ground last week as part of the nearly 14,000-acre TCU September Lightning Complex.
More recently, Paradise has also become a model for how a town can rebuild wisely after a wildfire. At least some of that is due to the work of Dan Efseaff, the director of the Paradise Recreation and Park District, who has launched a program to identify and acquire some of the highest-risk, hardest-to-access properties in the Camp Fire burn scar. Though he has a limited total operating budget of around $5.5 million and relies heavily on the charity of local property owners (he’s currently in the process of applying for a $15 million grant with a $5 million match for the program) Efseaff has nevertheless managed to build the beginning of a defensible buffer of managed parkland around Paradise that could potentially buy the town time in the case of a future wildfire.
In order to better understand how communities can build back smarter after — or, ideally, before — a catastrophic fire, I spoke with Efseaff about his work in Paradise and how other communities might be able to replicate it. Our conversation has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.
Do you live in Paradise? Were you there during the Camp Fire?
I actually live in Chico. We’ve lived here since the mid-‘90s, but I have a long connection to Paradise; I’ve worked for the district since 2017. I’m also a sea kayak instructor and during the Camp Fire, I was in South Carolina for a training. I was away from the phone until I got back at the end of the day and saw it blowing up with everything.
I have triplet daughters who were attending Butte College at the time, and they needed to be evacuated. There was a lot of uncertainty that day. But it gave me some perspective, because I couldn’t get back for two days. It gave me a chance to think, “Okay, what’s our response going to be?” Looking two days out, it was like: That would have been payroll, let’s get people together, and then let’s figure out what we’re going to do two weeks and two months from now.
It also got my mind thinking about what we would have done going backwards. If you’d had two weeks to prepare, you would have gotten your go-bag together, you’d have come up with your evacuation route — that type of thing. But when you run the movie backwards on what you would have done differently if you had two years or two decades, it would include prepping the landscape, making some safer community defensible space. That’s what got me started.
Was it your idea to buy up the high-risk properties in the burn scar?
I would say I adapted it. Everyone wants to say it was their idea, but I’ll tell you where it came from: Pre-fire, the thinking was that it would make sense for the town to have a perimeter trail from a recreation standpoint. But I was also trying to pitch it as a good idea from a fuel standpoint, so that if there was a wildfire, you could respond to it. Certainly, the idea took on a whole other dimension after the Camp Fire.
I’m a restoration ecologist, so I’ve done a lot of river floodplain work. There are a lot of analogies there. The trend has been to give nature a little bit more room: You’re not going to stop a flood, but you can minimize damage to human infrastructure. Putting levees too close to the river makes them more prone to failing and puts people at risk — but if you can set the levee back a little bit, it gives the flood waters room to go through. That’s why I thought we need a little bit of a buffer in Paradise and some protection around the community. We need a transition between an area that is going to burn, and that we can let burn, but not in a way that is catastrophic.
How hard has it been to find willing sellers? Do most people in the area want to rebuild — or need to because of their mortgages?
Ironically, the biggest challenge for us is finding adequate funding. A lot of the property we have so far has been donated to us. It’s probably upwards of — oh, let’s see, at least half a dozen properties have been donated, probably close to 200 acres at this point.
We are applying for some federal grants right now, and we’ll see how that goes. What’s evolved quite a bit on this in recent years, though, is that — because we’ve done some modeling — instead of thinking of the buffer as areas that are managed uniformly around the community, we’re much more strategic. These fire events are wind-driven, and there are only a couple of directions where the wind blows sufficiently long enough and powerful enough for the other conditions to fall into play. That’s not to say other events couldn’t happen, but we’re going after the most likely events that would cause catastrophic fires, and that would be from the Diablo winds, or north winds, that come through our area. That was what happened in the Camp Fire scenario, and another one our models caught what sure looked a lot like the [2024] Park Fire.
One thing that I want to make clear is that some people think, “Oh, this is a fire break. It’s devoid of vegetation.” No, what we’re talking about is a well-managed habitat. These are shaded fuel breaks. You maintain the big trees, you get rid of the ladder fuels, and you get rid of the dead wood that’s on the ground. We have good examples with our partners, like the Butte Fire Safe Council, on how this works, and it looks like it helped protect the community of Cohasset during the Park Fire. They did some work on some strips there, and the fire essentially dropped to the ground before it came to Paradise Lake. You didn’t have an aerial tanker dropping retardant, you didn’t have a $2-million-per-day fire crew out there doing work. It was modest work done early and in the right place that actually changed the behavior of the fire.
Tell me a little more about the modeling you’ve been doing.
We looked at fire pathways with a group called XyloPlan out of the Bay Area. The concept is that you simulate a series of ignitions with certain wind conditions, terrain, and vegetation. The model looked very much like a Camp Fire scenario; it followed the same pathway, going towards the community in a little gulch that channeled high winds. You need to interrupt that pathway — and that doesn’t necessarily mean creating an area devoid of vegetation, but if you have these areas where the fire behavior changes and drops down to the ground, then it slows the travel. I found this hard to believe, but in the modeling results, in a scenario like the Camp Fire, it could buy you up to eight hours. With modern California firefighting, you could empty out the community in a systematic way in that time. You could have a vigorous fire response. You could have aircraft potentially ready. It’s a game-changing situation, rather than the 30 minutes Paradise had when the Camp Fire started.
How does this work when you’re dealing with private property owners, though? How do you convince them to move or donate their land?
We’re a Park and Recreation District so we don’t have regulatory authority. We are just trying to run with a good idea with the properties that we have so far — those from willing donors mostly, but there have been a couple of sales. If we’re unable to get federal funding or state support, though, I ultimately think this idea will still have to be here — whether it’s five, 10, 15, or 50 years from now. We have to manage this area in a comprehensive way.
Private property rights are very important, and we don’t want to impinge on that. And yet, what a person does on their property has a huge impact on the 30,000 people who may be downwind of them. It’s an unusual situation: In a hurricane, if you have a hurricane-rated roof and your neighbor doesn’t, and theirs blows off, you feel sorry for your neighbor but it’s probably not going to harm your property much. In a wildfire, what your neighbor has done with the wood, or how they treat vegetation, has a significant impact on your home and whether your family is going to survive. It’s a fundamentally different kind of event than some of the other disasters we look at.
Do you have any advice for community leaders who might want to consider creating buffer zones or something similar to what you’re doing in Paradise?
Start today. You have to think about these things with some urgency, but they’re not something people think about until it happens. Paradise, for many decades, did not have a single escaped wildfire make it into the community. Then, overnight, the community is essentially wiped out. But in so many places, these events are foreseeable; we’re just not wired to think about them or prepare for them.
Buffers around communities make a lot of sense, even from a road network standpoint. Even from a trash pickup standpoint. You don’t think about this, but if your community is really strung out, making it a little more thoughtfully laid out also makes it more economically viable to provide services to people. Some things we look for now are long roads that don’t have any connections — that were one-way in and no way out. I don’t think [the traffic jams and deaths in] Paradise would have happened with what we know now, but I kind of think [authorities] did know better beforehand. It just wasn’t economically viable at the time; they didn’t think it was a big deal, but they built the roads anyway. We can be doing a lot of things smarter.
A war of attrition is now turning in opponents’ favor.
A solar developer’s defeat in Massachusetts last week reveals just how much stronger project opponents are on the battlefield after the de facto repeal of the Inflation Reduction Act.
Last week, solar developer PureSky pulled five projects under development around the western Massachusetts town of Shutesbury. PureSky’s facilities had been in the works for years and would together represent what the developer has claimed would be one of the state’s largest solar projects thus far. In a statement, the company laid blame on “broader policy and regulatory headwinds,” including the state’s existing renewables incentives not keeping pace with rising costs and “federal policy updates,” which PureSky said were “making it harder to finance projects like those proposed near Shutesbury.”
But tucked in its press release was an admission from the company’s vice president of development Derek Moretz: this was also about the town, which had enacted a bylaw significantly restricting solar development that the company was until recently fighting vigorously in court.
“There are very few areas in the Commonwealth that are feasible to reach its clean energy goals,” Moretz stated. “We respect the Town’s conservation go als, but it is clear that systemic reforms are needed for Massachusetts to source its own energy.”
This stems from a story that probably sounds familiar: after proposing the projects, PureSky began reckoning with a burgeoning opposition campaign centered around nature conservation. Led by a fresh opposition group, Smart Solar Shutesbury, activists successfully pushed the town to drastically curtail development in 2023, pointing to the amount of forest acreage that would potentially be cleared in order to construct the projects. The town had previously not permitted facilities larger than 15 acres, but the fresh change went further, essentially banning battery storage and solar projects in most areas.
When this first happened, the state Attorney General’s office actually had PureSky’s back, challenging the legality of the bylaw that would block construction. And PureSky filed a lawsuit that was, until recently, ongoing with no signs of stopping. But last week, shortly after the Treasury Department unveiled its rules for implementing Trump’s new tax and spending law, which basically repealed the Inflation Reduction Act, PureSky settled with the town and dropped the lawsuit – and the projects went away along with the court fight.
What does this tell us? Well, things out in the country must be getting quite bleak for solar developers in areas with strident and locked-in opposition that could be costly to fight. Where before project developers might have been able to stomach the struggle, money talks – and the dollars are starting to tell executives to lay down their arms.
The picture gets worse on the macro level: On Monday, the Solar Energy Industries Association released a report declaring that federal policy changes brought about by phasing out federal tax incentives would put the U.S. at risk of losing upwards of 55 gigawatts of solar project development by 2030, representing a loss of more than 20 percent of the project pipeline.
But the trade group said most of that total – 44 gigawatts – was linked specifically to the Trump administration’s decision to halt federal permitting for renewable energy facilities, a decision that may impact generation out west but has little-to-know bearing on most large solar projects because those are almost always on private land.
Heatmap Pro can tell us how much is at stake here. To give you a sense of perspective, across the U.S., over 81 gigawatts worth of renewable energy projects are being contested right now, with non-Western states – the Northeast, South and Midwest – making up almost 60% of that potential capacity.
If historical trends hold, you’d expect a staggering 49% of those projects to be canceled. That would be on top of the totals SEIA suggests could be at risk from new Trump permitting policies.
I suspect the rate of cancellations in the face of project opposition will increase. And if this policy landscape is helping activists kill projects in blue states in desperate need of power, like Massachusetts, then the future may be more difficult to swallow than we can imagine at the moment.