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The effort to measure companies’ carbon footprints is remarkably imprecise — and suddenly more important than ever.

Large companies generate a gargantuan amount of carbon-dioxide pollution.
Take the big-box retailer Costco. During the financial year 2020, it emitted 144.5 million metric tons of carbon dioxide — a number on par with the Philippines’ annual emissions. Nike pumped out the equivalent of 11 million metric tons of carbon during the same period, a footprint roughly equal to Zimbabwe’s. Apple, meanwhile, was somewhere on the order of Estonia.
You’ve probably seen data like this before. But here’s a question: How do companies actually arrive at these numbers? How did Costco know its carbon footprint in 2020? Carbon dioxide and other climate-warming gases are invisible, potent even in trace amounts, and constantly absorbed and produced by hundreds of billions of different organisms and chemicals around the world. Costco alone directly or indirectly choreographs the actions of millions of people and things: sailors and longshoremen, factory workers and cotton farmers, employees coming in for their shift and marketing managers spending down an advertising budget.
How could a company like that possibly know its carbon footprint?
Here’s the sorry answer: Most companies don’t. They estimate.
Those estimates are suddenly looking more important. New laws and a proposal from the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission could soon require that companies treat this data with the same seriousness that they devote to their accounting books. Companies now need their corporate climate data to do something that it was never meant to do: help them make decisions.
So the race is on to help companies estimate better. On Wednesday, Watershed, a startup that helps companies run their climate programs, bought VitalMetrics, a climate-data mainstay that owns and manages one of the most important tools that companies use to estimate their carbon footprints.
That tool, called the Comprehensive Environmental Data Archive, or CEDA, provides what’s known as carbon-intensity data for hundreds of products as made in more than 140 countries. It is one of several tools that has been used to advise Microsoft, Kellogg’s, and Virgin Atlantic since Sangwon Suh, an industrial-ecology professor and Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change author, founded VitalMetrics in 2005.
Watershed’s acquisition of VitalMetrics signals that corporate climate data is entering a new stage, Taylor Francis, one of the company’s cofounders, told me. Watershed, at least, is a different kind of company than the climate bean counters of yore: Founded by former employees of the payments behemoth Stripe, it has raised $84 million from the venture-capital firms Kleiner Perkins, Sequoia Capital, as well as the billionaire Laurene Powell Jobs.
“The traditional corporate climate complex was basically designed for a world of numbers in the corporate social responsibility report, and a pledge, and a press release,” he said. ”We’re shifting to the new world of numbers in a 10-K,” the annual financial report that public companies must file with the government, “and a planet running out of time.”
I will admit I had it all wrong. I had assumed that because corporate carbon footprints sounded precise and vaguely science-adjacent, they were produced by something like a scientific methodology themselves. I imagined a company’s employees — or at least their consultants — collecting emissions data smokestack by smokestack, pacing around factories while studying air-quality monitors, and doing careful math somewhere in the vicinity of a bunsen burner or two. (I believed this, I should add, despite knowing that many corporate climate reports contain glaring arithmetic errors and sometimes literally do not add up.)
That sort of methodology is the “platonic ideal of carbon accounting,” Francis, the Watershed cofounder, told me. In a perfect world, a company would have measured the per-ton emissions of each of its processes, and it would know these for each of its suppliers down to the raw material.
Yet this is still a ways off for most companies. Instead, the bulk of carbon accounting today now happens in spreadsheets, and it uses dollars, not tons, as an input. Each consumer good or raw commodity aligns to a “factor,” a multiplier that says that for every dollar spent on, say, glass or aluminum, a certain amount of carbon is emitted. A climate team inputs the dollar amount, multiplies it by the factor, and arrives at a result: a company’s annual carbon footprint.
Until now, Watershed and other firms have often calculated corporate climate emissions by using a U.S. Environmental Protection Agency-made database called the Environmentally Extended Input-Output, or EEIO, model, Francis said. “You start with very coarse input data like, we spent $100 million on marketing. So you go to the old EEIO database, and the EEIO says that in the U.S. 10 years ago, the carbon emissions per dollar of marketing spend was X, and you multiply that to get your emissions number.”
“I think that gets you into the right order of magnitude,” he said, but it was messy. The EEIO data is roughly a decade out of date, meaning it overstates climate pollution from the power grid and understates the role of inflation.
VitalMetrics’ CEDA database, on the other hand, is updated every year. It contains carbon-intensity factors for more than 300 products and — most important — it varies these factors based on the country of origin. Going forward, Watershed will calculate corporate emissions data using these CEDA estimates.
This kind of data-gathering isn’t fine-tuned enough for companies to actually make better decisions with their data, Madison Condon, a law professor at Boston University who has criticized the reigning approach, told me. Under the current approach, a company can improve their carbon-accounting data only by shifting production to countries with lower emissions factors. It doesn’t get credit for, say, installing technologies at its existing factories that lower emissions.
That is unsustainable because corporate carbon accounting is becoming important to governments around the world. The Securities and Exchange Commission has proposed requiring publicly traded companies to disclose carbon data and major climate-related risks. Even if that rule is swatted away by the Supreme Court, the European Union will soon require tens of thousands of companies to disclose sustainability and emissions data; these rules could apply to more than 10,000 foreign companies, including many mainstream American brands. California could soon pass its own law mandating that companies produce carbon-accounting data.
Even apart from those disclosure requirements, carbon-footprint requirements are now written into laws. Some of the Inflation Reduction Act’s subsidies will pay out only if a product’s carbon intensity is below a certain threshold.
Eventually, Watershed hopes to produce a hybrid tool that can use dollar-based production factors, tonnage estimates, and technology-based improvements together, Francis told me. More broadly, Watershed’s acquisition of Vitalmetrics — not to mention Watershed itself — is a gamble about how the climate economy will eventually work.
“Five years from now, the disclosure piece is just part of the water. No one talks or writes about it because it is an expected part of doing business for every company. And it’s relatively low friction. It’s a part of your annual close, your quarterly close,” Francis told me. “We don’t really talk about climate as a political issue because businesses don't think of climate as a political issue because they see it as, you know, the biggest growth sector of the decade.”
Of course, if that’s true, then companies may not need a startup like Watershed to do their climate counting for them. Bog-standard corporate accountants, like KPMG or Deloitte, will do the task just fine.
But Watershed is betting that climate accounting will remain both more technical and more central to a company’s employee and investor relationships than, say, its power bill. Just as companies use Salesforce specifically to manage customer relationships, or Justworks to manage payroll and benefits, Watershed hopes they will need a single place to manage all their climate data — a single source of emissions truth. It’s investing in its database to try to make that bet payoff.
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A small but growing share of counties are targeting data centers, solar farms, and battery storage systems at the same time.
I’ve got an update for you on the data center backlash — and what it could mean for the governor’s race in Wisconsin, one of the country’s most important state-level battles in the upcoming midterms.
Last week, I wrote about how the Republican congressman and Wisconsin gubernatorial candidate Tom Tiffany was trying to turn the data center issue into a kind of trojan horse for slowing down renewables. Tiffany claimed to be anti-data-center, but he was really looking to apply new and stricter rules to clean energy development, as well.
Over the weekend, Tiffany said the quiet part loud. “David Crowley wants to cover our farmland with industrial-scale wind, solar, and data centers,” he posted on X. (He also started calling his opponent “Data Center David Crowley.”) Tiffany vowed to “protect Wisconsin farmland,” picking up on the idea — already used by the Trump administration to stymie solar development — that renewables threaten the integrity of agricultural land.
Now Crowley isn’t nearly as pro-data-center as Tiffany claims, although he has said the computing facilities should run on 100% clean energy. Yet Tiffany's accusation made me curious: How many local governments now see data centers and renewables as a package deal — and a farmland-threatening incursion that should be blocked? Back in March, my colleague Jael Holzman has covered how data centers are turning Americans against renewables. Are we seeing that on the ground?
Our market intelligence service Heatmap Pro tracks local laws affecting clean energy, batteries, and data centers. I asked the Pro team to look at how many local governments have now banned all three types of infrastructure — communities with what you might call a “none of the above” policy.
There’s mostly good news in the results for renewables advocates. The number of towns and counties that have blocked data centers, solar, and batteries remains small. As of late last week, 21 counties across the country have an active restriction or moratorium on solar, batteries, and data centers combined.
Another 10 counties have banned either data centers and solar, or data centers and batteries, but not all three. Six cities or municipalities have placed combined restrictions on the technologies nationwide.
The bad news: The number is growing fast. Most of these “none-of-the-above” restrictions were passed in 2026, and the overwhelming majority are in the rural Midwest and Great Plains. Kansas, Iowa, and Indiana account for most of the moratoriums or restrictive laws.
Not all of the restrictions are new. Although most of these multi-technology restrictions get passed at the same time, a handful of counties blocked solar and batteries first, then tacked on data centers later. Dickinson County, Kansas, for instance, has long blocked solar and batteries. But this spring, as the data center boom came along, the county’s leaders extended that moratorium to apply to data centers and all forms of energy development — including natural gas.
Overall, the scale of the trend remains small. Less than 10% of data center restrictions nationwide also target clean energy. That’s good news for renewable developers because the number of data center ordinances is surging. More than 530 data center restrictions are now on the books nationwide, and most restrictions have come in the past 12 months.
And what about the Wisconsin election? As of right now, only one county in America’s Dairyland has restricted data centers and batteries together. None have restricted solar, wind, and batteries. But Tiffany does seem to be tapping into a much larger zeitgeist. When you look at the stated reasons why communities nationwide are adopting these policies, farmland protection ranks high on the list. When it comes to permitting politics, in other words, farmland looks like the next frontier.
There are lots of reasons why that might seem like a good idea, but I urge you to learn from my mistakes.
All I wanted was to drive an electric car to the solar eclipse. But after the third consecutive charging port RFID reader wouldn’t accept my credit card and finding that the employees inside the attached Spanish hotel restaurant mostly didn’t speak English, I began to feel as though, just maybe, this hadn’t been my best idea.
Opting for an EV as a rental car can be an attractive proposition. For a longtime electric driver like me, it’s the opportunity to avoid car emissions even when on holiday, and to try out the experience in another country. For others, it could be a way to save money while on vacation in countries with even more expensive gasoline than America’s, or perhaps to try out electric driving before taking the plunge on buying an EV back home.
My advice, though? Don’t — at least not yet. The reason is that road-tripping on vacation is not only different from the driving you do back home, it’s also the worst kind for using an EV, especially for a newbie. The experience might lead you to believe, incorrectly, that the EV experience is just like this.
I admit, I had high hopes. Europe as a whole is far ahead of the United States in EV adoption, and its denser built environment means fewer long, open expanses between the kinds of cities that would have charging stations. Spain isn’t nearly as far along with EVs as the Scandinavian or the low countries, where electric cars are already a majority of cars on the road, or nearly there. But it is ahead of the U.S. So I figured driving around the country to see the total solar eclipse in a Peugeot E-5008 electric SUV would be a manageable task.
The first problem is time. Here in California, I’ve come to terms with the fact that driving long distances in an EV adds minutes. There’s simply no way to replicate the five-minute pump-and-go gas station stop, but when it comes to dealing with the slog of freeway travel from L.A. to the Bay Area, for example, I’ve come to enjoy taking a longer charging stop to breathe as opposed to making the best possible time on a car trip. On vacation, though, there’s no time to lose.
And it’s not just charging itself that takes time. Unless you rent a Tesla and enjoy the seamless experience of its Superchargers, you’re stuck with the same annoyances that have vexed so many EV early adopters in the U.S.: busted chargers, hit-or-miss credit card readers, and juggling a variety of phone apps to interact with all the various brands of charging stations one might encounter. It’s also, frankly, just mentally taxing to think about all this in a new country and a new car, the very opposite of what most people seek on holiday.
Driving abroad intensifies these grievances. In just five days of driving around Spain, I racked up five new phone apps dedicated to charging the car on different networks. (Electromaps! Movilidad! PowerGo! EnelEnergy! Zunder!). Sometimes this was out of desperation: I parked, plugged, and scanned multiple credit cards that the machine would not accept, finding pay-by-phone to be the only way to activate the machine. Of course, signing up for a new app is a 10-minute process that involves typing in endless fields of personal information just to add a few kilowatt-hours to one’s car battery. Not great when you’re already running behind, and doubly problematic if you had no or little cell service abroad and couldn’t download the necessary app at that moment. (Death to walled-off apps.)
Those chargers that did work typically ran far below their stated capacity, in the range of 70 kilowatts to 90 kilowatts of charging speed as opposed to the 180 kilowatts or 350 kilowatts they were rated to deliver. And when plugs are scarce, you have to take what you can get in terms of speed and amenities. I was overjoyed to find one that worked without much hassle in Basque Country — even though I had to ask one of the gas station employees to move her Volkswagen Passat that was ICEing a charger, and encountered an industrial stench from nearby petroleum production so strong I nearly vomited when I got out of the car.
The EV culture can be different, too. I’d hoped to charge at the plugs located in the parking garage of my hotel in Bilbao, Spain, but arrived home too late after eclipse traveling and found the lot full and locked. The nearby underground structure had plenty of charging spaces, but those were bring-your-own-cable chargers — something common in Europe that’s only now coming to the United States.
Despite the difficulties, the trip went off. We saw the spiritual experience of the eclipse through the cloudless skies of Burgos; we traveled around northern Spain without once having to buy gasoline at European prices. And while an inconvenient experience like this might be enough to dissuade someone from ever taking a chance on EVs again, it shouldn’t.
There’s a dichotomy in the electric car experience I’ve talked about ad nauseum. As detractors say, taking long road trips can be kind of annoying, and those annoyances run deeper in unfamiliar territory. But most of us don’t drive like we’re on vacation most of the time. We do our driving close to home, where electric cars are a better and more convenient experience if you can do much of your charging at home or work. Public charging still takes time. But in your own city and state, you already know the nearby ones you like and have all the necessary apps downloaded and filled out.
A more seamless time is coming, when charging stations are abundant everywhere and a simple, idiot-proof interface for plugging in is the standard. Until then, you’ll probably have a more relaxing vacation burning fossil fuels. Just don’t let that stop you from buying an EV.
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Moke sideswiped Hawaii yesterday just weeks after a weakened Hurricane Lala became the first major storm to hit the Big Island in decades • On the western fringe of the United States’ Pacific borders, Typhoon Saudel struck Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands over the weekend, bringing heavy rain and flooding • Temperatures in Khorramshahr, on Iran’s border with Iraq, are topping 118 degrees Fahrenheit, rendering the southwestern port city the hottest place on Earth.
With water levels in reservoirs across the American West at record lows, the Trump administration has directed Arizona, California, and Nevada to cut back on how much water they use from the Colorado River over the next two years. On Friday, the Department of the Interior imposed the reductions via a series of documents detailing a two-year and a 10-year plan to salvage the supplies from the drought-stricken river fed by snowmelt from Colorado’s stretch of the Rocky Mountains. As climate change has shifted snow patterns, levels on the river have dropped. Yet the seven states that depend on the water — the aforementioned three in the Lower Basin, and Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming in the Upper Basin — could not come to agreement among themselves on how to divvy up the dwindling supply. Instead, the Interior Department came up with a proposal that forced the Lower Basin states to pare back first. As you may recall, Arizona’s Democratic governor called the cuts “draconian” when the administration released its proposal in early August. The plan, which imposes short-term cuts while leaving a larger split for later, sets the stage for what E&E News predicted would be “a behemoth legal fight.”
When the Department of Energy announced a review last year of droves of grants the Biden administration had given for clean industrial projects, the nation’s leading green steel project appeared on the chopping block. Cleveland-Cliffs, the steel giant based in Vice President JD Vance’s hometown in Ohio, said it was renegotiating the $500 million grant that was supposed to fund construction of a modern, integrated mill that could increase U.S. steel production and allow the country to compete with China in selling lower-carbon material to Europe. More than a year later, the deal has finally been renegotiated. As expected, the money will now go instead toward upgrading a coal-fired blast furnace at the Middletown Works plant, Canary Media reported on Friday. Never mind the fact that Congress promulgated the money specifically for lower-carbon steel, making the shift “possibly illegal,” as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo reported last year.
Congestion costs on PJM Interconnection skyrocketed 43% to $6 billion during the first half of this year, up from $2.1 billion during the same period of 2025. That’s according to the grid’s independent watchdog, which last week warned that bottlenecks on high-voltage transmission lines during high-stress events such as storms or heat waves were now what Reuters put bluntly as “the single biggest driver of the increase in soaring wholesale electricity costs.” Across the U.S., July’s electricity bills were, in the frank words of Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin, “higher than ever.”
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Last week, the uranium miner Ur-Energy sent the first shipment from its mine in Wyoming, World Nuclear News reported Friday. That same day, the American subsidiary of the European uranium giant Urenco broke ground on its latest facility in the U.S., NucNet reported. Downstream, meanwhile, Standard Nuclear — a fuel manufacturer specializing in extra-expensive but extra-safe ceramic-coated fuel pellets called TRISO, which I have written about previously— just cut another deal with a major vendor.
I have a confession. Nearly a decade ago, I sat at my sister’s kitchen counter in Massachusetts after she gave birth to my niece, trying to write about the latest technology to come out from Tesla. Not yet burdened by its billionaire chief executive’s political baggage, the company was largely seen at the time as subverting preconceptions about the popularity of electric vehicles. Tesla’s erstwhile absorption of Musk’s former solar manufacturer, Solar City, only cemented the company’s status as an industry leader in producing and deploying panels domestically. The conventional wisdom, at least among some industry analysts at the time, was that any bet against Tesla was an ill-advised gamble against the lucky Mr. Musk. So, I wrote about it as a breakthrough. But the solar-generating roof tiles the company unveiled that fall when I was in New England turned out to be little more than a passing fantasy. Now Electrek has reported that the company plans to discontinue the product.

Say what you will about Spain’s solar records or America’s gas surge, nothing quite matches the enormous surge of power that is a new hydroelectric station. This week, Tanzania christened its largest-ever hydroelectric station, the Julius Nyerere Hydropower Dam, named for the country’s revolutionary first prime minister after independence. Mwananchi, the country’s largest newspaper, said the plant’s launch “opened a new chapter in Tanzania’s energy sector.”