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It may or may not be a perfect climate solution, but it is an extremely simple one.

Low-tech carbon removal is all the rage these days. Whether it’s spreading crushed rocks on fields or injecting sludgy biomass underground, relatively simplistic solutions have seen a boom in funding. But there’s one cheap, nature-based method that hasn’t been able to drum up as much attention from big name climate investors: biochar.
This flaky, charcoal-like substance has been produced and used as a fertilizer for millennia, and its potential to lock up the carbon contained in organic matter is well-documented. It’s made by heating up biomass such as wood or plants in a low-oxygen environment via a process called pyrolysis, thereby sequestering up to 40% to 50% of the carbon contained within that organic matter for hundreds or (debatably — but we’ll get to that) even thousands of years. Ideally, the process utilizes waste biomass such as plant material and forest residue left over from harvesting crops or timber, which otherwise might just be burned.
The United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change says biochar could store about 2.6 billion metric tons of CO2 per year. And by some metrics, this ancient method of carbon removal is already leagues ahead of the rest. Last year, biochar accounted for 94% of all carbon dioxide removal credits that were actually fulfilled, according to CDR.fyi, which tracks the CO2 removal market. That means that while corporate buyers are purchasing carbon credits that use an array of different removal methods, biochar has thus far dominated the market when it comes to actually making good on these purchases.
Some of the largest corporate buyers of CO2 removal credits have biochar in their portfolios. Microsoft, by far the most prominent player in this space, has bought over 200,000 tons of biochar credits — part of its quest to become carbon negative by 2050 — although that’s still a mere fraction of the over 6.6 million tons of CO2 removal the company has bought overall. JPMorgan Chase, which aims to match every ton of its operational emissions with carbon dioxide removal credits by 2030, has bought nearly 19,000 tons of biochar credits, representing about 26% of its CO2 removal portfolio.
But despite its technical maturity, biochar has yet to generate the same level of excitement or venture capital investment as more complex methods of carbon removal such as direct air capture, which garnered $142 million in investment last year. By comparison, biochar companies raised a cumulative total of $74 million in 2023. While that’s no small change, it doesn’t compare to the amount of capital VCs and other climate tech funders have poured even into other similarly elemental carbon removal technologies.
For example, Frontier, a collaborative fund for tech companies to catalyze emerging solutions in this space, recently announced a $58 million deal with Vaulted Deep, a startup that injects wet biomass from food waste to poop deep underground. And at the end of last year, Frontier inked a $57 million deal with Lithos Carbon, a company pursuing enhanced rock weathering. This involves spreading crushed up rocks onto fields, which react with the CO2 in the air to form bicarbonate; that’s eventually carried out to sea, where the carbon remains permanently sequestered on the ocean floor. In other words, it’s just an acceleration of the natural weathering process, which normally takes hundreds of thousands of years. VCs backing Lithos include mainstream names like Union Square Ventures, Greylock Ventures, and Bain Capital Ventures, while big-time climate tech VC Lowercarbon Capital led Vaulted Deep’s seed round.
The questions around biochar’s durability — that is, how long it can actually lock away carbon — are potentially unanswerable, and that’s at least partially driving investor reticence.
“Biochar falls in this very interesting middle ground - you create it, and then it is constantly degrading,” Freya Chay, program lead at CarbonPlan, a nonprofit that analyzes different carbon removal pathways, told me. She said that we just don’t have the scientific know-how “to predict, really clearly, how much is going to still be in your soil at 100 years or at 1,000 years.”
Frontier, for its part, only considers carbon removal “permanent” if it can sequester carbon for at least 1,000 years. Some studies indicate that a large proportion of biochar can achieve this, but it’s hard to definitively prove, and we’re far from a scientific consensus. Thus far the fund has steered clear of investing in biochar, noting that detailed protocols must be developed to measure its durability under a variety of soil and weather conditions.
Measurement, reporting and verification is often the downfall for nature-based solutions (see: the hoopla around bogus forest carbon credits). And while it is simple to measure how much of the carbon in biomass ends up sequestered in biochar, “it's where you draw the project boundaries in terms of where the MRV falls apart,” Annie Nichols, director of operations and project management at Pacific Biochar told me. For example, one might want to ensure that trees aren’t being cut down or crops aren’t being grown just for the purpose of creating biochar, and this often falls outside the scope of traditional measurement protocols. Pacific Biochar, for its part, sources its waste biomass from forests in high fire risk areas of California, where the excessive accumulation of woody debris poses a danger.
Pacific Biochar ranks as the world’s third largest supplier of carbon removal, with over 28,000 tons of credits delivered. Biochar “got a lot of attention before there was actually much utility,” its CEO, Josiah Hunt told me, referring to the period in the late 2000s when Al Gore was heavily hyping its benefits. In his 2009 book “Our Choice,” Gore called biochar “one of the most exciting new strategies for restoring carbon to depleted soils, and sequestering significant amounts of CO2 for 1,000 years and more.” But at that time, Hunt said, “There weren't really carbon markets ready to work with it yet.”
Prior to 2020, Pacific Biochar’s revenue relied solely on biochar fertilizer sales to farmers. It was only when the carbon credits market picked up that the company was able to scale. Today, Pacific Biochar sells most of its credits directly, as opposed to on an independent exchange, though it works with the carbon credits platform Carbonfuture to deliver credits to customers and perform the necessary verification to ensure the company’s carbon removal data is accurate.
Pacific Biochar’s credits sell for $180 per metric ton, cheaper than nearly all other removal methods and far below the weighted average of $488 for CO2 removal. That’s because producing biochar via pyrolysis requires much less energy than something like direct air capture. It’s also a more mature process than most emergent nature-based solutions such as enhanced rock weathering, meaning that comparably less money needs to be spent demonstrating that the process works as intended.
A number of biochar companies told me they think biochar has been overlooked in favor of more novel technological solutions. “There's this fixation on trying to find the high tech solution, the SaaS app that's going to solve climate change,” Thor Kallestad, CEO and cofounder of Myno Carbon, told me. By comparison, biochar can seem like a relic of an earlier era that never quite reached its potential.
Myno, founded by oil and gas veterans, is self-funding the buildout of a large-scale biochar and electricity co-generation facility in Port Angeles, Washington, which will source its fuel from the copious timber waste in Washington State. It’s still in the initial design phase, but the ultimate goal is to produce about 70,000 tons of biochar per year alongside 20 megawatts of power. That amounts to about 100,000 carbon dioxide removal credits, which Kallestad hopes to sell for less than $100 per metric ton. Ideally, he said, the plant will serve as a proof of concept that will help drive future investments.
While there haven’t yet been any major scandals in the biochar-sourcing world, the BBC ran an exposé in 2022 on a biomass-fueled power station in the UK that was logging old-growth forests to create wood pellets that were then burned for power. The company, Drax, had previously claimed that it was only sourcing sawdust and waste wood. While Drax maintains that its biomass is “sustainable and legally harvested,” further reporting indicates that as of last year, the company was still sourcing from old-growth forests. The worry is that something similar could happen with biochar production as demand ramps up.
Chay says the cost-benefit analysis for making biochar gets even thornier when taking into account the “counterfactual of how we otherwise could have used biomass.” After all, biomass can also be burned for energy, and if the emissions are captured and stored, that’s a carbon removal strategy too. And with many looking towards biomass-based fuels as a way to decarbonize industries such as aviation and shipping, demand for waste biomass appears set to increase alongside uncertainty regarding its best use case. “Zooming forward to 2050, I'm not sure there is anything such as waste biomass,” Chay told me.
But in the short-term at least, there’s enough to go around. A recent Department of Energy report noted that “available but unused” biomass such as logging and agricultural residue could contribute around 350 tons to the nation’s supply every year. That’s about as much biomass as the United States uses for bioenergy today
“Certainly biochar has a place,” Chay said. She’s not convinced that it will ever make sense to conceptualize biochar production as “permanent carbon removal” though. “Maybe we just let it be this kind of interstitial durability. We figure out how to value that while also optimizing for agricultural co-benefits.”
Investors may remain wary of a solution that occupies this hard-to-define space between short and long-term CO2 removal, but Hunt’s not too worried. “I don’t think that’s horribly detrimental,” he told me. He sees biochar’s strong performance in the carbon credits marketplace as enough to sustain the industry for now. “I do think the buying community is what drives our growth. And even if we’re not the unicorns, even if we’re just the work mules, that’s fine with me. I don’t mind being the mule of climate change action.”
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Deep Sky is running a carbon removal bake-off on the plains of Alberta.
Four years ago, Congress hatched an ambitious, bipartisan plan for the United States to become the epicenter of a new climate change-fighting industry. Like an idea ripped from science fiction, the government committed $3.5 billion to develop hulking steel complexes equipped with industrial fans that would filter planet-warming carbon dioxide out of the air.
That vision — to build regional hubs for “direct air capture” — is now languishing under the Trump administration. But a similar, albeit privately-funded initiative in Canada has raced ahead. In the span of about 12 months, a startup called Deep Sky transformed a vacant five-acre lot in Central Alberta into an operational testing ground for five different prototypes of the technology, with more on the way.
I had been following the project since early last year, after receiving roughly a dozen press releases from Deep Sky about all of the companies it was setting up partnerships with. But it was hard to believe the scope of the ambition until I saw it with my own eyes.
CarbonCapture Inc., one of the companies piloting its technology at Deep Sky, had originally planned to deploy in the U.S., but has since packed up and headed north. The Los Angeles-based startup recently shipped all the equipment for its first demonstration project from Arizona to the Deep Sky site on four flatbed trucks. On a crisp October day, under a bluebird sky, the company’s CEO Adrian Corless stood in front of the newly installed towering mass of metal fans and explained the move.
“Because of what’s been going on in the U.S. and the backing away from support of climate technology and carbon removal, we made a decision back in February that we were going to redirect our focus and effort to Canada,” he told an audience of Canadian officials who had come to see the tech up close.
“Eight weeks ago, this was just dirt,” Corless said. “Today, we’re actually going to bring the first of our modules to life.” Then he invited Danielle Smith, Alberta’s conservative Premier, to do the honors. She pointed her fingers like a pistol and yelled, “Hit it!”
Behind her, the fans started to whir.
Deep Sky is not like other companies working in direct air capture, or DAC. Whereas most startups are developing their own patented designs and then raising money to go out and build demonstrations, Deep Sky is solely a project developer. It buys DAC systems, operates them, and sells credits based on the amount of carbon it’s able to remove from the air and sequester underground. Other companies buy these credits to offset their own emissions.
In the spring of 2024, Damien Steel, Deep Sky’s then-CEO, explained the theory of the case to me. It takes a different set of skills to engineer the tech than to deploy it in the real world, he said, which requires procuring energy to run the system and developing storage sites for the captured CO2. “There’s a reason why renewable developers don’t build their own windmills and solar panels,” he told me.
DAC technology is nowhere near as advanced as solar panels or wind turbines. Removing carbon dioxide from the air, where it makes up just 0.04% of the total volume, is currently far too energy-intensive to be commercially viable. There are more than 100 companies around the world trying to crack it.
Deep Sky’s first ambition was to buy a bunch of prototypes, test them next to each other, and figure out which were the most promising. Steel told me he was in the process of acquiring 10 unique DAC systems to install at a “commercialization and innovation center” known as Deep Sky Labs.

By the end of that summer, the company had signed a lease for the site in Alberta. Less than a year later, this past June, it had completed initial construction and was ready to begin hooking up DAC systems. In August, it announced that it had successfully injected its first captured carbon into an underground storage well. I had never seen one DAC project in the real world, let alone five. The company suggested I come for a tour during CarbonCapture’s launch event in late October.
By then Steel, who joined Deep Sky after more than a decade in venture capital, had stepped down from the CEO role “for personal reasons,” he wrote in a LinkedIn post, though he stayed on as an advisor. My guide would be his successor, former Chief Operating Officer Alex Petre.
Deep Sky Labs, now called Deep Sky Alpha, is in Innisfail, a town of about 8,000 people surrounded by farmland and prairie. To get there, I flew to Calgary and drove 75 miles north on Highway 2, the primary throughway that connects to Edmonton. Innisfail is dense and suburban-looking, with an industrial corridor on the western edge of town. Deep Sky was on its outermost edge, on the site of a former sewage lagoon the town had recently reclaimed, and sat catty corner to a welding and manufacturing company, which, as I was later told — multiple times — was developing hydrogen-powered locomotives.
A bright white cylindrical building about the size of an airplane hangar, emblazoned with “Deep Sky” in big black letters, was visible from half a mile away. As I pulled up to the site, workers in neon vests and hard hats were scurrying among outcroppings of pipes and metal structures. Unsure of where to enter, I parked on the road and wandered up to some trailers outside the perimeter. Petre poked her head out of one and beckoned me inside an office, where she fitted me with my own vest and hard hat so I could get a closer look.
“This is the only place in the world where we are putting together different direct air capture technologies side by side,” she told me, as we passed through a gate and began walking the grounds. Other than the sound of trucks and excavators driving around, it was fairly quiet. None of the DAC units were operating that day — one was down for maintenance, one for the winter, and the rest were still under construction.
The first stop on the tour was a modest black shipping container labeled SkyRenu, a DAC company based in Quebec. It was the smallest system there, designed to capture just 50 tons of carbon per year — roughly the annual emissions from a dozen cars. Directly across from it, workers appeared to be fitting some pipe on a much larger and more complicated structure resembling Paris’ Pompidou Center. This was United Kingdom-based AirHive’s system, which would have the capacity to capture about 1,000 tons per year once completed.

DAC systems are feats of chemistry and mechanical engineering. At their core is a special material called a sorbent, a liquid or solid designed to attract carbon dioxide molecules like a magnet. The process is generally as follows:. First, the sorbent is exposed to the air, often with the help of fans. Once saturated with carbon, the sorbent is heated or zapped with electricity to pry loose the CO2. The resulting pure CO2 gas then gets piped to a processing facility, where it’s prepared for its ultimate destination, whether that’s a product like cement or fuel or, in the case of Deep Sky, a deep underground rock formation where it will be stored permanently.
Deep Sky’s aim was to trial as many iterations of the tech as it could at Alpha, Petre told me. That’s because what works best in Alberta’s climate won’t necessarily be optimal in Quebec or British Columbia, let alone hotter, more humid zones. “When the feedstock, which is ambient air, ends up being so different, we need multiple different technologies to work,” she said.
Case in point: A DAC system designed by Mission Zero, another U.K company, was offline the day I visited — and would remain so until next spring. It utilized a liquid sorbent and had to be drained so that the sorbent wouldn’t freeze when temperatures dropped below freezing overnight. The challenge wasn’t entirely unique to Mission Zero, however. “Everyone is struggling with winter,” Petre told me.

Alpha is piloting systems with liquid sorbents and solid sorbents, variations on the chemistry within each of those, and systems that use different processes to release the carbon after the fact. The development cost ran to “over $50 million” Canadian, Petre told me. The company raised about that amount in a Series A back in 2023. It also won a $40 million grant from Bill Gates’ venture capital firm Breakthrough Energy in December 2024, and this past June, the Province of Alberta awarded Deep Sky an additional $5 million from an emissions-reduction fund paid for by fees on the fossil fuel industry.
The company fully owns and operates almost all of the DAC units onsite, although it’s still working with the vendors to troubleshoot issues and sharing data with them to improve performance.
When it comes to Carbon Capture Inc., however, the arrangement is a bit different. Deep Sky has agreed to host the company’s tech, giving it access to power, water, and underground CO2 storage, but CarbonCapture will retain ownership and help with operations, and the two companies will share the proceeds from any revenue the unit generates.
Petre said the structure was mutually beneficial — Deep Sky gets to demonstrate its strengths as a full-service site developer, while CarbonCapture gets access to a plug-and-play spot to pilot its system in the real world. The U.S. company is also looking to expand in Canada. “There’s lots of potential collaboration down the line,” Petre said.
Before Trump arrived at the White House, CarbonCapture had been making aggressive plans to grow in the states. In the fall of 2022, before the company had even demonstrated its tech outside of a lab, it announced that it would build a project capable of removing 5 million tons of carbon per year in Wyoming by 2030. It later leased an 83,000-square-foot manufacturing facility in Arizona to produce the equipment for the project.
At the time, the Biden administration was integrating carbon removal — of which DAC is just one variety — into its “whole-of-governement” climate strategy. The Department of Energy rebranded its Office of Fossil Energy to reflect a new focus on “carbon management,” a broad term that encompasses carbon captured at fossil fuel plants as well as from the atmosphere. In addition to overseeing the development of the DAC Hubs, the agency was running more than a dozen other grant programs and research initiatives mandated by Congress that were intended to help the nascent industry get established in the U.S. Biden’s 2022 climate law, the Inflation Reduction Act, also increased the tax credit available to DAC projects from $50 for every ton of carbon stored underground to $180.
As helpful as all of that may have been for the nascent industry, Canada was arguably going further. In 2022, the country finalized its own tax credit — an investment tax credit — that would cover 60% of the capital cost of building a direct air capture plant. The approach, while inspired by the U.S. subsidy, is geared more at de-risking project development than rewarding project success. The following year, the province of Alberta said it would offer an additional 12% investment tax credit on top of that.
Alberta was also becoming a leader in developing carbon storage infrastructure. Despite — or, more likely, because of — its oil-based economy, the province views carbon capture and storage as a “necessary pathway” that “will help Alberta transition to a low-carbon future.” Canada is the fourth largest producer of crude oil in the world, and the bulk of it comes from Alberta’s environmentally destructive tar sands.

The government of Alberta owns most of the subsurface rights there, unlike in the U.S., where such rights are bestowed to landowners. That meant the province could simply offer companies leases to develop carbon injection wells. After two requests for proposals, the province selected 24 projects to “begin exploring how to safely develop carbon storage hubs.” A few of them, including Deep Sky’s storage partner — the Meadowbrook Hub Project north of Edmonton — are now operating.
Corless, of CarbonCapture, told me he spent a lot of time in Washington talking to the new staff at the DOE after Trump’s inauguration. It became increasingly clear to him that the DAC Hubs funding — and the general support for the sector enjoyed under the previous administration — would be going away.
By that point, the company had already planned to move its Wyoming venture to Louisiana after struggling to secure a grid connection at its original site. CarbonCapture had been awarded a DAC Hubs grant to conduct an engineering study for the project, but it received a notice from the DOE that the grant was canceled earlier this month. The company is still considering its options for how or whether to move forward.
On the same day the news leaked, CarbonCapture announced that it was shifting its plans to build a separate, 2,000 ton-per-year pilot plant from Arizona to Canada. Corless told me the company had originally planned to partner with a cement company to store the captured carbon in building materials, but Alberta offered more attractive commercial prospects. The company could more quickly access geologic carbon storage there, enabling it to sell carbon credits, which command a higher price than experiments in carbon-cured cement.
The timing of the announcement was pure coincidence. The poor prospects for an American DAC industry under Trump weren’t not a factor in the move, however. CarbonCapture wanted its pilot project to be a “springboard” for its first commercial plant, and Canada was attractive “given the favorable economic incentives, favorable regulatory environment, and the general positive interest in deploying DAC,” the company’s marketing director, Ethan Stackpole, told me in an email. “This is in contrast to the current atmosphere in the U.S.”
CarbonCapture signed a contract with DeepSky to host the pilot, dubbed Project Tamarack, in May, and set up a Canadian business entity called True North to build it. When I visited the site, the company was in the final stages of “commissioning” the unit, i.e. getting it ready to operate. The equipment had been manufactured at the company’s factory in Arizona, but it may end up being the only system produced there. The facility is now sitting idle.
Petre and I followed the tidy rows of wires and pipes that wound through Deep Sky Alpha, carrying electricity, water, and compressed air to each DAC system. A set of return pipes delivers the captured CO2 to Deep Sky’s central processing facility — the big white cylindrical building — where the company measures the output from each system before combining it all into a single stream. Inside, she showed me how the gas moved between large, tubular instruments that measure, dry, compress, and cool it into a liquid.
“Everything outside is first of a kind,” she said. “All of this equipment in here is fairly standard energy oil and gas equipment, it’s just arranged in a very different way.”
Sensors monitoring the wires and pipes enable Deep Sky to measure how much energy and water goes into producing a ton of CO2. Finally, trucks carry away the liquid CO2 to the Meadowbrook storage hub about two hours north, where an underground carbon sequestration well operated by a separate company called Bison Low Carbon Ventures provides it a permanent home.
While trucking the CO2 wasn’t ideal, the amount Deep Sky would capture at Alpha was so small that it made more sense to partner with Bison, which already had a permitted well, than to try to build one itself, Petre explained. When Deep Sky scales up at its next facility, which it expects to build in Manitoba, the company aspires to drill its own carbon sequestration wells on site.
Despite Alberta’s advantages for DAC, the location is not without drawbacks. The province had imposed a seven-month moratorium on renewable energy approvals from 2023 to 2024, which led to project cancellations and put development on ice. When the ban lifted, new regulations restricting wind and solar on agricultural land and near designated “pristine viewscapes” continued to make it difficult to build. Petre told me Deep Sky was one of only two companies in Alberta to secure a power purchase agreement with a solar farm last year.
“If I said, ‘I need 150 megawatts for my next facility right now,’ it would be a fairly difficult process,” she said. “There isn’t that much capacity online, and I would have to compete with data centers and a whole bunch of other folks who are also looking to come here and develop.” The company has started looking into building its own renewable energy supply on site, she said.
That anti-renewable sentiment stems from the region’s strong oil and gas identity. After my tour with Petre, I sat through a short program celebrating Project Tamarack’s launch, where Alberta’s Premier Danielle Smith conveyed her excitement by asserting that the province was “working to phase out emissions, not oil and gas production.” Alberta would double its energy production in the coming years, she said, while still reaching a goal of carbon neutrality by 2050.
Of all the extraordinary things I had seen and heard that day, this was the most brazen. The promise of direct air capture — the entire reason to expend time and energy and funds on plucking CO2 molecules out of the air — is that it’s one of the few ways to clean up the carbon that’s already in the atmosphere. Using it to offset continued oil and gas production might slow climate change, but there are a lot of other cheaper, more efficient, and more effective ways to reduce emissions — like switching to carbon-free power and electric cars.
I asked Corless about Smith’s comments later that day over coffee. Was it realistic to double oil production and go carbon neutral? He was coy. It would be very hard, he said. But it also depends on whether you’re talking about neutralizing the emissions from producing the oil versus from burning it. Corless seemed to view the argument as a political necessity, if a dubious one, to win government support for scaling DAC.
“I was hopeful that when the new administration came in, we could create an economic argument and tie what we’re doing to energy dominance and energy security,” he said, of the Trump administration. “It was just, I think, a bridge too far. Whereas here, that narrative is landing.”
Petre was more equivocal, responding that Deep Sky acknowledges that “we are not going to move away from oil and gas tomorrow,” and takes this as motivation to “get direct air capture to as low cost as possible and as easy to deploy as possible.”
In addition to the five DAC units currently installed at Alpha — SkyRenu, Airhive, CarbonCapture, Mission Zero, and a system from a German company called Phlair — Deep Sky has announced plans to bring two more units to the site from Skytree and GE Vernova. A few other deals are in the works but not yet public, Petre told me.
Even once Deep Sky Alpha has enough capacity installed to be printing carbon credits by the day, it won’t have proven that DAC is viable at scale. It’s not meant to. Many aspects of the facility are intentionally inefficient because of its nature as a testing ground.
“We had to do a lot of overspec-ing and oversizing of things,” Petre said. All the excess makes her optimistic about Deep Sky’s next project, however, where it will scale up a smaller number of systems to a much larger capacity. “If we can do something this complex, there’s a lot of room to simplify,” she said.
Hurricane Melissa made landfall over Cuba with winds raging up to 120 miles per hour | If the Category 5 storm veers westward as it heads north, Melissa will bring roiling seas to Atlantic Canada; if it veers eastward, it will bring rain to the United Kingdom | Heavy snowfall in Tibet forced Chinese authorities to shut down access to Mount Everest.

China’s commerce ministry promised to suspend its latest export restrictions on rare earths for at least a year as part of a trade truce President Donald Trump brokered with President Xi Jinping. Under rules Beijing issued on October 8, Chinese companies were required to obtain the ministry’s permission before exporting equipment to process ore and technology for mining and refining rare earths, magnets made from the metals, and components for electric vehicle battery manufacturing. That doesn’t mean Beijing is dialing back all its restrictions on rare earths, over which China controls roughly 90% of the world’s refining capacity. “Importantly, China’s commerce ministry today made no mention of suspending its April 4 regulations, which require export licenses for seven kinds of rare earths and magnets made from them,” The New York Times’ Beijing bureau chief, Keith Bradsher, wrote Thursday morning. “The April rules continue to disrupt production at the many factories in the United States and Europe that need Chinese materials.”
That’s bad news for Western rare earth companies whose stocks have been on a tear since China announced the latest export controls. But it’s good news for clean-energy companies who need access to the minerals — and not their only cause for optimism this morning. The Federal Reserve cut its benchmark interest rate by a quarter of a percentage point, bringing the cost of borrowing down to its lowest level in three years. The move came amid a flurry of economic uncertainty from the United States’ ongoing trade conflicts, accusations from the Trump administration’s over jobs and inflation reports, and the ongoing government shutdown. For the first time since 2019, two Fed officials dissented over the rate cut decision — one who wanted a larger, half-point cut, and the other who called for holding steady at the current level. The political upheaval aside, any cut is good news for renewable energy developers. As Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote after last month’s quarter-point cut, the move may “provide some relief to renewables developers and investors, who are especially sensitive to financing costs.” But it still “may not be enough” to erase the challenges from higher tariffs.
On Wednesday, General Motors pinkslipped more than 3,400 workers who build electric vehicles and batteries as the company “rapidly adjusts to new policy under President Donald Trump and sluggish interest among U.S. buyers,” The Detroit News reported. The automaker’s Detroit-area all-electric assembly plant, called Factory Zero, will be the hardest hit, with 1,200 cuts.
GM had emerged this year as the best-selling electric vehicle maker in the country, with record sales in the most recent quarter. By eliminating the $7,500 federal tax credit for electric vehicles last month as part of his One Big Beautiful Bill Act, however, Trump cost GM “1.6 billion,” as Andrew Moseman wrote last week in Heatmap.
Just over a week ago, as I wrote here, Rhode Island Senator Sheldon Whitehouse warned that his vote on the bipartisan permitting reform ideas he helped put forward depended on the Trump administration easing up on what we’ve frequently called in this newsletter the “total war on wind.” Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum balked at the idea. And yet, talks seem to be progressing. On Wednesday, E&E News reported that Whitehouse, the top Democrat on the Environment and Public Works Committee and a longstanding climate hawk, said talks were "pretty constant right now” and that the Senate planned to release a framework by the end of the year. He added that “there’s good faith on all four corners, referring to Environment and Public Works Chair Shelley Moore Capito, a West Virginia Republican, Energy and Natural Resources Chair Mike Lee, a Utah Republican, and ranking member Martin Heinrich, a New Mexico Democrat. “I don’t think we necessarily have to be down to legislative language, but it has to be clear enough to where we’re going so our colleagues have a chance to look at it and kick the tires and see what their concerns are.”
Kentucky is reeling from the looming halt to federal food stamps. Now the Trump administration wants to let the nation’s biggest grid operator charge Kentuckians to keep aging fossil fuel stations open in other states? No way, say one of the state’s biggest utilities and its attorney general. As Utility Dive reported, East Kentucky Power Cooperative, which serves nearly a quarter of the state’s ratepayers, and Attorney General Russell Coleman are challenging the PJM Interconnection’s plan to make utilities across its system pay for the Department of Energy’s emergency orders to keep coal-, oil-, and gas-fired power plants set to close this year open past their expiry dates. Much like the coal plant the agency ordered to stay open in Michigan, the Energy Department recently directed utilities in the PJM service area to keep two gas- and oil-fired units online near Philadelphia and a 400-megawatt oil-fired plant going near Baltimore. In August, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission rejected East Kentucky Power Cooperative’s arguments against having to pay for PJM’s overall costs. But now the utility and the attorney general, a Republican, are fighting back against the latest filings.
Elsewhere in the PJM territory, chip giant Nvidia is investing in a data center built to smooth out power use as demand for artificial intelligence surges. The project, announced in Axios, is “the first commercial rollout of software that adjusts energy draw in real time.” Nvidia is set to deploy grid-regulating software by the startup Emerald AI at a server farm under construction in Virginia. Once completed, the facility will be “the first built to a new industry-wide certification on flexible power.”
The Los Angeles Department of Water and Power board voted unanimously to approve a contentious plan for an $800 million conversion of two units at the Scattergood Generating Station. The 3 to 0 decision to sign off on the plant’s environmental impact report clears the way for the city’s largest gas-fired plant to burn both natural gas and hydrogen. While the regulators said the plan was in line with the city’s goal of running on 100% renewables by 2035, since green hydrogen is made with clean electricity, opponents told the Los Angeles Times that the project would prolong the use of fossil fuels in the city and contribute to local pollution from nitrogen oxides.
If successful, the conversion will be one of the country’s biggest experiments in swapping gas for hydrogen. On Long Island in New York, utility giant National Grid announced a plan in August to install the world’s first linear generator that will run entirely on green hydrogen. Yet the efforts come as the Trump administration has eliminated federal funding for two of the seven regional hydrogen hubs set up under the bipartisan Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act that were specifically designed to commercialize green hydrogen. And now, as Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo wrote, a list of rumored cuts that could come once the government shutdown ends puts the other five hubs on the chopping block.
Artificial intelligence is starting to decode the language of whales. Now biologist David Gruber of the Cetacean Translation Initiative, who has spent decades trying to understand marine life, said that the work his research outfit is doing to detect patterns in whale songs could “dramatically strengthen legal protections for nonhuman life,” Inside Climate News reported. Already, Gruber’s work has uncovered a sperm whale “alphabet,” finding that click patterns shift with conversational context, and discovered that whales even have dialects with pods from different parts of the ocean “vocalizing as differently as a New Yorker and a Texan.”
The former FERC chair explains why Chris Wright is likely to succeed where Rick Perry failed.
Neil Chatterjee thinks it’s going to go better this time.
Eight years ago, Chatterjee was the chairman of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, and Trump was the president. When Trump’s then-Secretary of Energy, Rick Perry, asked the commission to ensure that generators able to store fuel on site — which in the U.S. largely means coal and nuclear — get extra payments for doing so, thus keeping struggling power plants in business, it rejected the proposal by a unanimous vote.
“There’s no doubt my 2017 experience — that was politically driven,” Chatterjee told me, though he did concede that Perry was “right to be concerned about retiring generation at the time.” The Perry plan had been heavily influenced by the coal industry, he told me, and the regulatory structure of “compensating plants for having the attribute of on-site fuel … it was just a bit of a stretch.”
Now there’s a new Trump administration, with a new Secretary of Energy and a new FERC — and on Thursday, Energy Secretary Chris Wright asked the commission to do something else. He put forward what’s known as an advance notice of proposed rulemaking, directing FERC to come up with ways to help to make sure the grid can deal with another large-scale transition.
“They’re just apples and oranges,” Chatterjee said of the two requests. “This is a much more elegant, much more thoughtful exercise.”
Wright’s letter lays out the challenge of integrating large loads — i.e. data centers — onto the grid, arguing that they “must be able to connect to the transmission system in a timely, orderly, and non-discriminatory manner.” Doing so, he said, will “require unprecedented and extraordinary quantities of electricity and substantial investment in the Nation’s interstate transmission system.”
The overall thrust of the proposal is to make things easier and faster, including suggesting that interconnection studies for large loads that have their own generation or are flexible could be finished in just 60 days — which, if successful, could take a process that can last for years and get it done in less than a season.
The notice suggests a number of reforms for FERC to consider, including faster interconnection for “large loads that agree to be curtailable and hybrid facilities that agree to be curtailable and dispatchable” — touching on what has been the hottest subject in energy policy this year.
Tyler Norris, a Duke University researcher who has been one of the leading promoters of load flexibility, called Wright’s notice a “BFD” — that is, big effing deal — in a brief email to Heatmap.
Norris elaborated further on X. The proposal “appears to have done the near-impossible — generate overwhelming bipartisan enthusiasm — in what may be the most positive cross-sector response we’ve seen yet to DOE action under Secretary Wright,” he wrote.
Wright’s proposal suggests that both new data centers and new sources of power should be studied together for interconnection. While this sounds like it would be adding complexity, it may actually be simplifying the process. “Such an approach will allow for efficient siting of loads and generating facilities and thereby minimize the need for costly network upgrades,” the proposal says, reflecting the twinned desire to get more data centers on line faster while shielding electricity consumers from higher costs.
Another of Wright’s suggestions, however, might face more opposition. He argues that “load and hybrid facilities should be responsible for 100% of the network upgrades that they are assigned through the interconnection studies.”
This is designed to address the possibility — already being realized in parts of the country — that the network infrastructure required to bring data centers online could lead to higher costs for all electricity customers served by a given utility as it spreads out those costs to its rate base. The risk, however, is that utilities won’t like it. That’s because in most of the country, utilities earn a regulated rate of return on their investment in grid upgrades (by way of customer bill payments, of course), creating an incentive for them to continue to spend.
Those dynamics may be changing. Utilities once enjoyed primacy in Washington on electricity policy, especially among Republicans, but have seen their status slip of late in favor of a new force: big tech companies with big data centers.
“The hyperscalers have the influence to counteract the utilities here,” Chatterjee told me. “And that’s a new dynamic, historically — when it came to FERC, when it came to DOE, when it came to, quite frankly, Congress. People are sensitive to their utilities.”
Wright’s proposal, Chatterjee said, is trying to balance several different considerations the White House faces.
“This is the most vexing issue before the commission right now. And the reality is, it’s not clean politically within FERC, within DOE, even within the White House. There are differences of opinion on how best to thread this needle,” he told me, pointing to divides between those who want to drive AI development as fast as possible and those who are concerned about electricity prices.
By contrast, the Perry proposal to FERC was widely recognized as being primarily about supporting the coal (and to some extent nuclear) industry.
“I really think what DOE has put forward here is kind of an elegant solution that touches on everything,” Chatterjee said. “It’s not preferring particular sources of generation. It’s for flexibility — flexibility is having its moment.”
The proposal has already won some plaudits from the technology industry. In a letter to the White House, OpenAI Chief Global Affairs Officer Christopher Lehane wrote that the company “welcomed the news last week that DOE recommended to FERC that it assert jurisdiction and create standardized rules for large load interconnections.” He also noted that OpenAI’s data centers “are designed to be curtailable — reducing their draw or even returning power during peak demand, helping to protect reliability and avoid higher costs for consumers.”
The DOE gave FERC an April 2026 deadline for final action on the proposed rulemaking, and FERC said Monday night that comments would be due by November 14.
Chatterjee said he expects FERC to eventually issue rules based on the proposal on a unanimous and bipartisan basis.
“I think the initial thought was, Oh, here goes the Trump administration again, leaning on FERC. This is actually a thoughtful exercise that I think most people in the energy space recognize is necessary to be done.”