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It’s useful for more than just decarbonization.

Now that President Donald Trump has been officially inaugurated and issued his barrage of executive orders celebrating fossil fuels and shelving climate technologies such as wind energy and electric vehicles, climate tech startups are in a pickle. Federal funding can play a critical role in helping companies scale up and build out first-of-a-kind projects and facilities. So how to work with a government hostile to one of these startups’ core value propositions: aiding in the energy transition?
Talk of clean tech and electrification may be out of vogue, but its utility is not. The potential of many of these companies goes beyond mitigating climate change and into the realm of energy security and resilience — something the Department of Defense is well aware of.
The White House’s climate webpage has gone dark; the Department of Defense’s climate resilience portal lasted a little longer, but that’s now down, too. Once upon a time, though, the site read, “The changing climate is one of many threat multipliers to National Security, which adds complexity to Department of Defense decisions.” That’s a major reason why this agency can’t stop, won’t stop funding climate technologies. Another reason is that many technologies that happen to be good for the planet might also simply be the best tool for the job, meaning the DOD need not utter the word “climate” at all when justifying its decision to deploy new solutions.
“The Defense Department, so far in our experience, has framed things largely in terms of alternative benefits that our technology can have, such as fuel supply chain redundancy and reliability,” Ted McKlveen, co-founder and CEO of the hydrogen storage company Verne, told me. Verne received a $250,000 Small Business Innovation Research grant from the Army last May to work on the development of hydrogen vehicles.
Cindy Taff, CEO of the next-generation geothermal startup Sage Geosystems, told me something similar. “What the military likes to talk about is energy resilience,” she said, though she has heard the DOD tout the climate benefits of her company’s tech, too. Sage currently has multiple DOD engagements, including feasibility studies with both the Army and Navy and a $1.9 million grant to build a demonstration project for the Air Force.
That’s not to say it’s clear what the Department of Defense’s funding priorities under Trump will be. When I contacted the DOD in mid-December to request an interview for this story, a spokesperson initially told me they would help connect me to the right person. But as Trump’s inauguration drew nearer, I got a message saying the agency would have to hold off until it got more guidance, as “it remains to be seen in the next few weeks what direction the new administration is going.”
Regardless of how the priorities shake out, practically every climate-focused company and venture capitalist I talk to emphasizes that their companies will only succeed if they can make or invest in products that can compete on economics and/or quality alone, sans government support. That was true even before a second Trump turn in the White House started to look like an inevitability, and this new administration will at least partially reveal which companies can do that. But while everybody aims to be independent of federal support, they might not actually need to say goodbye to that funding stream, so long as they can tout their economic and performance benefits to the right customers.
Take Pyka, for example. When Michael Norcia co-founded the autonomous electric aircraft company in 2017, the ultimate goal was to design a passenger plane. “We want that to be our legacy, but we were also very, very realistic about the challenges associated with actually doing that,” he told me. So when the DOD took an interest in the company’s commercial cargo planes and their potential ability to deliver supplies in contested environments, the startup jumped at the opportunity, delivering its first aircraft to AFWERX, the innovation arm of the Department of the Air Force, early last year. Interest from such a lucrative government customer helped the company to close its $40 million Series B round in September.
Of course, the decarbonization benefits of electrifying military cargo delivery would be huge. But unsurprisingly, Norcia told me that the DOD primarily frames the opportunity in terms of the capabilities of all-electric or hybrid-electric planes, which could take a variety of fuels, operate quietly, and give off minimal heat, making them more difficult to detect via thermal imaging. Plus, the more equipment is electrified the better, “in terms of having them be able to operate in a highly contested environment, where moving fuel around maybe is not feasible,” Norcia explained. Not to mention the fact that if a manned aircraft is shot down, people die, meaning that in a counterfactual sense, Pyka’s tech is saving lives.
Verne’s North Star is also decarbonization. And given that the military is the world’s largest oil consumer, McKlveen was excited to partner with the Army to put its hydrogen storage tech to use in medium and heavy-duty vehicles. The company stores hydrogen (ideally green hydrogen, produced via renewables-powered electrolysis) at high density as a cold, compressed gas, making it possible to build hydrogen vehicles with greater range and lower cost than has traditionally been done. Similar to Pyka, the Army is enthused that these vehicles would be difficult for adversaries to detect, as they’re quiet and give off little heat. Likewise, McKlveen told me that hydrogen power could replace the Army’s notoriously noisy generators.
While Verne has also partnered with the Department of Energy and its R&D arm, ARPA-E, McKlveen said that working with the DOD has been unique in a few ways. “The key difference is the DOD is a customer and a grant provider. So they can say both what their needs are as a potential customer and represent a potential customer,” he explained. This, along with the agency’s clear, phased approach that it puts companies through, helps bring a level of transparency to the whole process, from pilot to full-fledged military implementation, that McKlveen appreciates.
And lest we forget, “they also have a very large budget,” he told me. For fiscal year 2025, the DOD has requested $849.8 billion, while the DOE, by comparison, has requested a mere $51.4 billion.
“I find military people to be get-it-done type of people,” Taff of Sage Geosystems told me. “So I think that helps to create a sense of urgency and also push things along a lot faster than you would see with maybe other organizations.” Sage uses drilling technologies adopted from the oil and gas industry to access heat for clean electricity production across a wide variety of geographies. This is an especially attractive option for the DOD as the majority of geothermal infrastructure is underground, and thus well protected from attack. And unlike other renewables, this tech can provide 24/7 energy no matter the weather conditions. So it’s no surprise that the military is pouring money into this sector, pursuing partnerships with other big names in the geothermal space such as Fervo Energy and Eavor.
Electric planes, hydrogen, and geothermal all felt intuitively justifiable to me from a defense standpoint, but I was more surprised to learn that the DOD has gotten into the alternative proteins, a.k.a. “fake meat”, industry. Though meat substitutes won’t power tankers or keep the lights on, the Defense Department’s $1.4 million grant to The Better Meat Co. is intended to strengthen the American supply chain. China’s Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs views lab-grown meat as critical to its five-year agricultural plan. “So we don’t want to have the United States be importing clean protein in the way that we’re currently dependent on Asia for our semiconductors and photovoltaics,” Paul Shapiro, the company’s CEO, told me.
The Better Meat Co. produces a protein called Rhiza that’s derived from microscopic fungi, which it then sells as an ingredient to other companies to make either 100% animal-free meat or a meat blend. “This isn’t an alternative protein program. It’s a domestic biomanufacturing program,” Shapiro told me when I asked if military funding for meat substitutes could be at risk under Trump. Looking at some of the other companies that got grants through the same program, he said, “it’s literally like bio manufacturing things for military planes and jet lubricants and chemical catalysts for bullets.” That is, probably not Republican targets for defunding. “It’s clearly solely about wanting the U.S. to be a leader in biomanufacturing for the products that the world is going to depend on in the future.”
The DOD also sees promise in numerous other clean energy technologies, including nuclear microreactors for their portability and ability to provide off-grid energy in remote locations and alternate battery chemistries that could help the U.S. move away from a dependence on Chinese-produced lithium-ion batteries.
But despite the deep well of funding and pragmatic approach to deployment that the Department of Defense offers, agreeing to work with the DOD isn’t always an obvious choice. Many fear their company’s tech could be used in ways and in wars that they oppose. In 2018, for example, thousands of Google employees signed a letter opposing the company’s participation in Project Maven, a partnership with the Pentagon that uses artificial intelligence to improve the accuracy of drone strikes. Supporters of the project said it would lead to fewer civilian deaths, while protestors argued that Google “should not be in the business of war.” Google did not renew the contract. More recently, employees at Microsoft, Google, and Amazon have signed petitions opposing their company’s provision of cloud computing and AI services to the Israeli government.
Norcia noted that most, but not all of his employees were neutral to positive when it came to working with the Air Force, while “for a small minority of the company, it unfortunately was not something that they really wanted to devote their life to.” While he understands that perspective, Norcia does believe that Pyka’s work with the DOD is a net positive for the world. “If you assume wars are going to keep happening — which, unfortunately, I think is the reality — I’d rather have it be the case that they’re more of a robot war than a human war,” he told me. And at the end of the day, passenger planes are still the goal.
As for his team at Verne, McKlveen told me everybody was on board. “The Defense Department has led to some of the biggest innovations of the last century, whether that’s the internet or GPS. And our team knows that.” Plus, even if the DOD doesn’t talk much about the climate benefits of sustainability-focused tech, that doesn’t negate them. A 2019 study revealed that the Pentagon purchases an average of 100 million barrels of oil per year, so from that perspective, “it’s hard to find a bigger customer that we can address,” McKlveen told me.
Norcia agreed. “I think the gains of your impact get turned way up if you’re doing work with the DOD,” he said, “as opposed to, you know, building an app that makes something incrementally more efficient or more addictive.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to reflect that DOD’s climate resilience portal has been taken down.
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A new report shared exclusively with Heatmap documents failures of transparency and governance at the Greenhouse Gas Protocol.
It is something of a miracle that tens of thousands of companies around the world voluntarily report their greenhouse gas emissions each year. In 2025, more than 22,100 businesses, together worth more than half the global stock market, disclosed this data. Unfortunately, it’s an open secret that many of their calculations are far off the mark.
This is not exactly their fault. To aid in the tedious process of tallying up carbon and to encourage a basic level of uniformity in how it’s done, companies rely on standards created by a nonprofit called the Greenhouse Gas Protocol. The group’s central challenge is ensuring that its standards are both credible and feasible — two qualities often in tension in greenhouse gas accounting. The method that produces the most accurate emissions inventory may not always be feasible, while the method that’s easy to implement may produce wildly inaccurate results.
Critics have long faulted the Protocol for allowing companies to look far better on paper than they do to the atmosphere. In 2022, the group began in earnest to try and fix this, starting with an overhaul of its governance. It created a new Independent Standards Board that would oversee and approve updates to each of its accounting rules, and later convened a series of technical working groups to develop the substance of those updates. One such group was updating the method for how companies should account for their electricity use. Another was focused on supply chain emissions.
The working groups would meet regularly to put together proposals and then submit those proposals to the Independent Standards Board for approval. A separate steering committee would then review the board’s decision to ensure that the Protocol’s overall principles had been followed throughout the process and make the final call.
The new structure was meant to “further bolster the credibility and integrity of these standards,” the Protocol wrote. The overhaul was especially timely as governments around the world, including those of the European Union and the state of California, were taking steps to adopt the Protocol’s standards in their own mandatory climate disclosure rules.
But what started as a laudable effort to improve transparency and accountability has turned rancid, some of the participants told me. Scientists are being pitted against industry representatives. Proposals, voting records, and other key documents are being kept from the public eye. Decisions made behind closed doors are going undocumented and undisclosed, kept secret even from the working group members who have devoted significant unpaid time to the cause of developing stronger standards.
These issues are broadly illustrated by the experience of Kate Dooley, a member of the GHG Protocol’s technical working group on forest carbon accounting. Dooley is a political scientist and lecturer at the University of Melbourne’s School of Geography, Earth and Atmospheric Sciences who has worked on issues related to forest carbon accounting for roughly two decades. She joined the 17-person working group in December 2024; the group’s assignment was to resolve a contentious debate over how companies that own or control forests or use forestry products in their supply chains should account for carbon emissions related to their harvesting, land management, and wood product purchases. The group included academics like Dooley, industry representatives from companies such as IKEA, and experts from non-profits including the Natural Resources Defense Council and the American Forest Foundation.
After six months of meetings, however, the members could not reach a consensus. One of the key reasons forest carbon accounting is difficult is that forests can both emit carbon and remove it from the atmosphere. Determining what proportion of those removals are a result of human activity versus what would happen naturally gets complicated quickly. The stakes were high, because even though the GHG Protocol standards are portrayed as neutral accounting exercises, small decisions about how this accounting is performed can create big shifts in incentives for how companies operate.
The forestry group considered two main approaches. One is called the “managed land proxy,” or MLP, and it is the method countries use to report their emissions to the United Nations. This method would allow companies to include all of the carbon that’s being sequestered on their lands in their greenhouse gas inventory. A timber company that cuts down trees, for instance, would count both the emissions released from logging as well as the carbon sequestered by the remaining tree stands and calculate a net result.
The major criticism of this approach is that it’s easy to game and leads to unintuitive results, where forest product companies come out looking like they are removing far more carbon than they are releasing. The method would also enable companies to use the average emissions and removals of an entire region in their calculations, rather than the specific logging and forest management practices of their supply source. Another risk is that companies could simply buy up additional forest land to reduce their emissions on paper while changing nothing about their business practices.
Proponents of this method put forward what they framed as a compromise, called “MLP+,” which attempted to put some guardrails around these issues. Regardless, the scientists in the group argued that it was scientifically incorrect to attribute all forest carbon sequestration that happens within a given tract of land to a company when that carbon removal may be the result of unrelated factors such as elevated CO2 in the air from climate change, or that a previous owner had cut down trees that were now growing back.
The alternative method that the scientists, including Dooley, put forward is called “activities-based accounting.” Rather than take credit for all forest growth, this method would require landowners to account for the growth that would have occurred without human interference and subtract it from their estimate of carbon removals. This method would be more difficult and require further work to fine-tune. It would also have the effect of making corporate forest emissions look much higher on paper.
In a final vote between two proposals, the members split 8 to 7 in favor of MLP+, with two sitting out the vote. The group delivered both proposals to the Independent Standards Board for consideration last spring, but the board could not reach a consensus, either. Ultimately, the organization decided to finalize the land sector standard in January 2026 without any guidance for forest carbon accounting, advising companies to go with whatever method they wanted as long as they disclosed how they did it. It noted that it would soon issue a request for information to gather more stakeholder input on the issue.
By the end of the working group process, the internal dynamics had grown combative. Dooley and other scientists in the group had presented certain scientific papers to support their rebuke of MLP, but another member, Nathan Truitt, the executive vice president of climate funding at the American Forest Foundation, began arguing that the same papers made the opposite point.
“It was this weird, Kafka-eque development,” Dooley said. She responded to the entire group with a long email detailing the last 20 years of debate on the subject, she told me. “I think in that email I accused [Truitt] of industry bias, because there was no other explanation for what he was doing,” she said.
The American Forest Foundation works with private landowners to support sustainable forest product markets. Truitt, for his part, characterized the atmosphere in the working group as toxic. He told me that the scientists did not adequately explain to him why they thought he was interpreting the papers incorrectly. He noted that the foundation is a mission-based nonprofit, and less than 5% of its revenues comes from the forest products industry, but the organization does believe in supporting healthy forest markets. “If landowners can’t generate revenue from appropriate forest management, there won’t be forest there very long,” he said.
But Dooley’s concerns were bigger than just interpersonal challenges. She didn’t understand why none of the explanatory memos or official proposals produced by the working group had been published to the Protocol’s website, when similar documents produced by the other working groups had been made public. (Truitt also was not aware of this until I reached out to him, and was surprised to learn it.)
Initially, the scientists’ full memo on their approach was not even shown to the Independent Standards Board; Dooley told me she had to write to the head of the board and ask that it be shared. It was also odd to her that there was no follow-up from the Independent Standards Board after the proposals had been submitted.
Perhaps one of the strangest elements of the process was that the Greenhouse Gas Protocol had conducted a real-world pilot program of MLP prior to the formation of the working group. There was public documentation of the pilot’s existence, but the outcomes were not published, nor were they shared with the group. Dooley said that someone who had viewed the results told her they decidedly proved the problems with MLP. Her understanding was that almost all of the forest product companies that participated reported huge amounts of net carbon removals, making them appear to have a beneficial impact on the climate, contributing nothing to global emissions. “To me, it’s inexplicable why that pilot study wasn’t shown,” she said.
Months later, in January 2026, Dooley received a document that reframed her experience. It was a formal complaint made by Truitt the previous April that challenged the scientists’ expertise and impartiality, she told me. She also learned that following the complaint, the Independent Standards Board solicited opinions from additional outside scientists on the two proposals. She was shocked that she had been kept in the dark as this was going on.
Dooley emailed the head of the board and other leaders at the Protocol to ask why she and the other scientists weren’t told about the complaint or given a chance to respond. “We write to express concern that this complaint was not initially communicated to those concerned, and to request clarification regarding its handling and any subsequent developments,” the email said. She also inquired about the unpublished proposals and lack of follow-up from the board. She sent the email on January 23. She has yet to receive a response, she said.
“It strikes me as a very bizarre process,” she told me. “It’s unacceptable.”
When I spoke to Truitt about the complaint, he told me he did not mean to suggest that Dooley and the other scientists’ perspective was invalid. On the contrary, Truitt was concerned that there weren’t more experts in the working group, or at least more of the right experts. In 2024, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change had hosted a three-day meeting in Italy specifically about the issues with forest carbon accounting, albeit at the national level. Truitt read the final report that came out of that meeting and didn’t understand why none of the scientists involved were on the Protocol’s technical working group.
Initially he wanted to share this concern with the working group directly, he said, but third-party consultants hired to facilitate the group’s progress advised him to bring it to the Protocol’s staff. He did that, and again asked to share it with his colleagues so that it would at least be in the group’s records, but was instructed not to, he said.
Truitt told me his complaint urged the Protocol to invite some of the experts from the IPCC meeting to join the working group. He said that the head of the Independent Standards Board later told him there was not enough time, but that the board would consult with some of those experts once it had the proposals.
The GHG Protocol did not answer detailed questions I sent them for this story. “We are in the process of addressing, through an independent review, a few concerns relating to work within one of our Technical Working Groups,” a spokesperson told me in an email. “As this is an internal ongoing matter, we cannot comment further but we are committed to addressing any findings appropriately.”
The spokesperson also emphasized that robust debate was central to the standard-setting process, and that the organization is “committed to ensuring that all discussions are conducted in a respectful, transparent and well-facilitated manner, with clear governance structures in place to support balanced and evidence-based outcomes. We value all inputs and feedback on how to improve our multistakeholder processes.”
While Truitt and Dooley vehemently disagree on forest carbon accounting and what went wrong in the working group, they are on the same page about one thing — the Protocol has issues with transparency. A new paper published Wednesday argues that the issues Dooley described are systemic, and warns that the Protocol seems to be moving further away from its commitment to accountability.
The paper’s author is Danny Cullenward, an economist and lawyer focused on the scientific integrity of climate policy, who is currently a senior fellow at the University of Pennsylvania’s Kleinman Center for Energy Policy. Cullenward also sits on the Protocol’s Independent Standards Board and is restricted by a non-disclosure agreement from describing what he has witnessed in the role. His paper draws on publicly available information in an effort not to violate his NDA. (Cullenward has also contributed to Heatmap.)
Part of what drove Cullenward to write the piece were concerns outlined in a complaint he and another board member filed jointly to the Protocol. While Cullenward could not discuss the substance of the complaint, his paper notes that it alleges “violations of the Board’s terms of reference,” and that the violations “undermined the scientific integrity of the Board’s deliberations” over the land sector standard.
“I do not have any confidence that we are going to end up in a place where there is public disclosure about what occurred,” he told me, “and that is concerning.”
His paper critiques the Protocol’s formal complaints process more generally, noting that it does not describe how complaints should be adjudicated. Because the Independent Standards Board is bound by an NDA, filing a complaint is the only means by which members can flag malfeasance. If these complaints are then adjudicated in private, there is no “external mechanism to ensure that the Protocol’s overall governance rules are being followed in practice,” Cullenward writes.
He further highlights two overarching failings at the Protocol. The first is that the group’s two key decisionmaking bodies — the Independent Standards Board and the Steering Committee — are imbalanced. The former has members from industry, academia, and government, but no one from environmental non-governmental organizations. More than half the members on the latter are from the business and financial world, and the Steering Committee does not have a single member from the research community.
Not only does the nonprofit community not have a voice on the board, Cullenward writes, but the absence of those voices “risks politicizing the work of scientist Board members.” While the Protocol’s official decision-making hierarchy deems scientific integrity as its top priority, in practice, scientists are left to defend the science to the business community. If and when contentious scientific issues do arise and the board’s decisions are elevated to the Steering Committee, there is no one on that committee with the training to evaluate the disagreement.
Cullenward also criticizes the Protocol for not publishing records from the Independent Standards Board’s meetings, despite the fact that the board’s governance documents explicitly require the publication of meeting minutes. The board’s votes are done by secret ballot, the report says, so members themselves cannot even see how each other voted. Cullenward calls for this rule to be lifted, for votes to be public, and for board members not to be restricted by NDAs. “A well-functioning organization that follows its own rules does not need to restrict Board members’ legal ability to speak about their experiences,” he writes.
Lastly, Cullenward warns that the Protocol seems to be heading down a path of increasing opacity. Last fall, the group announced that it was planning to harmonize its standards with the International Organization for Standardization, or ISO, a separate, much larger group that writes voluntary standards for all kinds of industries. (To date it has written more than 26,000 standards, applying to everything from screw threads and paper sizes to food safety and electrical grids.) The GHG Protocol published new rules governing this joint work, which, unlike the technical working group rules, do not require members’ names be public or a balanced representation of stakeholders.
One of these joint working groups has already been convened, and while the GHG Protocol published the names of the members it nominated to the group on its website, the ISO-nominated members are not listed, and the total group size is unclear. It’s also unclear what this harmonization process will look like, and whether it will involve another overhaul of all of the standards the Protocol has spent the past several years revising.
I reached out to a few other carbon accounting experts for their thoughts on Cullenward’s paper. Michael Gillenwater, the executive director of the Greenhouse Gas Institute, who is in one of the other technical working groups, told me the concerns raised about bias go back to the origins of corporate climate accounting. The focus has long been on “what companies want to report and claim versus what is technically fit for the evolving range of purposes that the GHG Protocol has been and is newly being used for,” he said.
Matthew Brander, a professor of carbon accounting at the University of Edinburgh who also serves on a technical working group, told me he agrees that commercial interests are overrepresented among the working groups — not just in terms of numbers, but also in the amount of time and resources they can spend to engage and lobby for their preferred outcomes. Despite the Protocol’s claim of being “science-led,” he told me, scientific research is often ignored. Brander was also frustrated with the complaints procedure, telling me that a complaint he submitted did not get a substantive response.
“I don’t think there is ever a perfect way of managing/governing standard-setting processes,” he said in an email, “and commercial interests will very often hold sway.”
While Cullenward told me he thought improving transparency and representation would help alleviate many of his concerns, Dooley was less sure.
“The idea that science speaks as an independent, authoritative voice is a myth,” she said. “It’s actually what my research is about. Lots of science is politicized and can be used to support any side of the debate generally. But the way the process was set up very much leant into that and allowed that to happen, rather than mitigated against that.”
Just as demand for batteries is intensifying.
The energy impacts of the continued crisis in the Persian Gulf are obvious. Countries that rely on the natural gas and oil from the region are dealing with higher prices, and in some cases are trying to tamp down their demand for fuel and electricity to keep prices under control, not to mention maintain basic energy availability.
But it’s not just gas-fired power plants and internal combustion engines that are feeling the pinch.
The consequences of the effective closure of the Strait of Hormuz go well beyond the set of energy commodities typically associated with the Persian Gulf, including a vast array of minerals and petrochemicals, including many necessary to produce clean energy. We’ve already covered aluminum, a key component of solar panels, cars, and batteries, which requires so much energy for processing that almost 10% of it is produced in the Middle East, where fuel is abundant.
Now another chemical essential to the battery supply chain is seeing price hikes and supply reductions: sulfuric acid.
Sulfuric acid is used in refining and processing several metals and minerals key to the energy transition, including copper, cobalt, nickel, and lithium. Copper is used throughout EVs and other clean technologies, while nickel and cobalt are used in cathodes in lithium-ion batteries — which, of course, also contain lithium. Shortages or higher prices of sulfuric acid could lead to shortages or higher prices for batteries and electric vehicles, just as consumers flock to them to help mitigate the impacts of rising fossil fuel costs.
Sulfur is a byproduct of oil and natural gas refining, hence about half of seaborne sulfur comes from the Middle East, according to Argus Media, but only a handful of sulfur-bearing vessels have transited the Strait of Hormuz since the war began. In response to the disruption, China, the world’s top exporter of sulfuric acid, began restricting shipments abroad, according to S&P.
Sulfuric acid “is an irreplaceable input in the manufacture of renewable energy materials, such as silicon wafers in solar panels; the nickel, cobalt, and rare earths in wind turbine magnets and electric vehicle (EV) motors; and the copper wiring in every grid connection and transformer,” wrote Atlantic Council fellow Alvin Camba in an analysis for the think tank.
“Most elemental sulfur comes from the Middle East,” Camba told me, “and it goes to places like Indonesia,” where metals are processed to “produce the batteries for a lot of vehicles for companies like Tesla, BYD, and Honda.”
Shortages of sulfuric acid will likely hit Indonesia especially hard. The country produces about 60% of the world’s nickel, but has only about a month’s inventory of sulfur, according to a team of Morgan Stanley analysts. “We believe the energy shock is reverberating and will sustain beyond the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz,” the analysts wrote of China’s export restrictions. “It will keep fuel markets tighter, lift the cost curve for Indonesian nickel, and raise refining margins in Asia. Higher energy prices will show up in food, tech and battery supply chains.”
Already, according to Morgan Stanley, “several” Indonesian nickel producers have reduced their output by at least 10% from last month. In the Democratic Republic of Congo, copper and cobalt miners are reducing their use of chemicals in their operations and considering cutting output.
Battery manufacturers are already seeing higher costs for their materials. The Chinese battery giant (and Tesla supplier) CATL saw its profit margins decline quarter-over-quarter revenue growth due to “cost pressure,” Morningstar analyst Vincent Sun wrote last week in a note to clients — and that’s despite greater sales volumes as consumers attempt to escape fossil fuel-dependency. As sulfuric acid rises in price, the battery companies will also be competing with agribusiness, who use sulfuric acid to produce phosphate fertilizers, Camba told me.
Even Ivanhoe Mines chief executive and metal and mining mega-bull Robert Friedland said in a statement last week, “If the closure of the Straits of Hormuz continues … second-derivative effect will be on global copper production due to the shortage of the world’s most important industrial chemical, sulfuric acid.” Friedland described the market for sulfur and sulfuric acid as “extremely tight.”
That also spells bad news for lithium, the namesake mineral used in EV batteries. Around half of global lithium production comes from spodumene, a hard rock mined largely in Western Australia. Refining that rock requires a “shitload’ of sulfuric acid, Nathaniel Horadam, the founder and president of Full Tilt Strategies, told me, through an energy intensive process known as “acid baking.”
Australian mines were already suffering from high diesel prices and shortages due to the conflict in Iran, according to Argus Media. The high price of sulfuric acid could put a squeeze on margins for lithium refining, which largely occurs in China.
“If their production costs go up, that’s going to be factoring into their market pricing,” Horadam said. “I would expect all those prices to go up in the short to medium term until this stuff kind of settles.”
The other major threat to battery makers specifically, Horadam said, was shortages of petrochemicals like ethylene, which is used in the production of plastics, and polyethylene, a polymer often used in plastic bags.
Ethylene is often made from ethane, a natural gas liquid, or naphtha, a refined petroleum product and production in the Persian Gulf has been severely disrupted by the Hormuz crisis. As of March, Asian petrochemical producers had already reduced their output in anticipation of shortages.
Polyethylene is also a crucial component in lithium-ion batteries, where it’s often used in the “separator,” which physically divides the cathode from the anode. Even the Trump administration has thrown its support behind polyethylene in battery manufacturing A $1.3 billion loan from the Department of Energy’s in-house bank to finance a separator manufacturing facility in Indiana survived the Trump administration’s gutting of that office, with $77 million getting disbursed last September. (Notably, the Trump-era announcement dropped a reference to electric vehicles and instead enumerated separators’ uses in “data centers, energy storage, and consumer electronics.”)
Over 40% of lithium-ion separators are produced in China with the “bulk” of them produced in Asia, according to the DOE, which makes support for domestic production paramount to maintaining international competitiveness and domestic supply chains.
“We’re relying on the Chinese and Japanese to produce all our separators and electrolytes and such,” Horadam said. “This sulfuric stuff is getting all the attention because it’s pretty obvious in terms of visible, salient minerals that are directly impacted, but I wouldn’t sleep on separators and binding agents.”
The opinion covered a host of actions the administration has taken to slow or halt renewables development.
A federal court seems to have struck down a swath of Trump administration moves to paralyze solar and wind permits.
U.S. District Judge Denise Casper on Tuesday enjoined a raft of actions by the Trump administration that delayed federal renewable energy permits, granting a request submitted by regional trade groups. The plaintiffs argued that tactics employed by various executive branch agencies to stall permits violated the Administrative Procedures Act. Casper — an Obama appointee — agreed in a 73-page opinion, asserting that the APA challenge was likely to succeed on the merits.
The ruling is a potentially fatal blow to five key methods the Trump administration has used to stymie federal renewable energy permitting. It appears to strike down the Interior Department memo requiring sign-off from Interior Secretary Doug Burgum on all major approvals, as well as instructions that the Interior and the Army Corps of Engineers prioritize “energy dense” projects in ways likely to benefit fossil fuels. Also struck down: a ban on access to a Fish and Wildlife Service species database and an Interior legal opinion targeting offshore wind leases.
Casper found a litany of reasons the five actions may have violated the Administrative Procedures Act. For example, the memo mandating political reviews was “a significant departure from [Interior] precedent,” and therefore “required a ‘more detailed justification’ than that needed for merely implementing a new policy.” The “energy density” permitting rubric, meanwhile, “conflicts” with federal laws governing federal energy leases so it likely violated the APA, the judge wrote.
What’s next is anyone’s guess. Some cynical readers may wonder whether the Supreme Court will just lift the preliminary injunction at the administration’s request. It’s worth noting Casper had the High Court’s penchant for neutralizing preliminary injunctions in mind, writing in her opinion, “The Court concludes that the scope of this requested injunctive relief is appropriate and consistent with the Supreme Court’s limitations on nationwide injunctions.”