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A new report demonstrates how to power the computing boom with (mostly) clean energy.

After a year of concerted hand-wringing about the growing energy needs of data centers, a report that dropped just before the holidays proposed a solution that had been strangely absent from the discussion.
AI companies have seemingly grasped for every imaginable source of clean energy to quench their thirst for power, including pricey, left-field ideas like restarting shuttered nuclear plants. Some are foregoing climate concerns altogether and ordering up off-grid natural gas turbines. In a pithily named new analysis — “Fast, scalable, clean, and cheap enough” — the report’s authors make a compelling case for an alternative: off-grid solar microgrids.
An off-grid solar microgrid is a system with solar panels, batteries, and small gas generators that can work together to power a data center directly without connecting to the wider electricity system. It can have infinite possible configurations, such as greater or smaller numbers of solar panels, and more or less gas-generated capacity. The report models the full range of possibilities to illustrate the trade-offs in terms of emission reductions and cost.
An eclectic group of experts got together to do the research, including staffers from the payment company Stripe, a developer called Scale Microgrids, and Paces, which builds software to help renewable energy developers identify viable sites for projects. They found that an off-grid microgrid that supplied 44% of a data center’s demand from solar panels and used a natural gas generator the rest of the time would cost roughly $93 per megawatt-hour compared to about $86 for large, off-grid natural gas turbines — and it would emit nearly one million tons of CO2 less than the gas turbines. A cleaner system that produced 90% of its power from solar and batteries would cost closer to $109 per megawatt-hour, the authors found. While that’s more expensive than gas turbines, it’s significantly cheaper than repowering Three Mile Island, the fabled nuclear plant that Microsoft is bringing back online for an estimated $130 per megawatt-hour.
One challenge with solar microgrids is that they require a lot of land for solar panels. But a geospatial analysis showed that there’s more than enough available land in the U.S. southwest — primarily in West Texas — to cover estimated energy demand growth from data centers through 2030. This shouldn’t be taken as a recommendation, per se. The paper doesn’t interrogate the need for data centers or the trade-offs of building renewable power for AI training facilities versus to serve manufacturing or households. The report is just an exercise in asking whether, if these data centers are going to be developed, could they at least add as few emissions as possible? Not all hyperscalers care about climate, and those that do might still prioritize speed and scale over their net-zero commitments. But the authors argue that it’s possible to build these systems more quickly than it would be to install big gas turbines, which currently have at least three-year lead times to procure and fall under more complicated permitting regimes.
Before the New Year, I spoke with two of the authors — Zeke Hausfather from Stripe and Duncan Campbell from Scale Microgrids — about the report. Stripe doesn’t build data centers and has no plans to, but Hausfather works for a unit within the company called Stripe Climate, which has a “remit to work on impactful things,” he told me. He and his colleagues got interested in the climate dilemma of data centers, and enlisted Scale Microgrids and Paces to help investigate. Our conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Why weren’t off-grid solar microgrids really being considered before?
Zeke Hausfather: As AI has grown dramatically, there’s been much more demand for data centers specifically focused on training. Those data centers have a lot more relaxed requirements. Instead of serving millions of customer requests in real time, they’re running these incredibly energy intensive training models. Those don’t need to necessarily be located near where people live, and that unlocks a lot more potential for solar, because you need about 50 times more land to build a data center with off-grid solar and storage than you would to build a data center that had a grid connection.
The other change is that we’re simply running out of good grid connections. And so a lot of the conversation among data center developers has been focused on, is there a way to do this with off-grid natural gas? We think that it makes a lot more sense, particularly given the relaxed constraints of where you can build these, to go with solar and storage, gas back-up, and substantially reduce the emissions impact.
Duncan Campbell: It was funny, when Nan [Ransohoff, head of climate at Stripe] and Zeke first reached out to me, I feel like they convinced me that microgrids were a good idea, which was the first time this ever happened in my life. They were like, what do you think about off-grid solar and storage? Oh, the energy density is way off, you need a ton of land. They’re like, yeah, but you know, for training, you could put it out in the desert, it’s fine, and hyperscalers are doing crazy things right now to access this power. We just went through all these things, and by the end of the call, I was like, yeah, we should do this study. I wasn’t thinking about it this way until me, the microgrids guy, spoke to the payments company.
So it’s just kind of against conventional logic?
Campbell: Going off-grid at all is wild for a data center operator to consider, given the historical impulse was, let’s have 3x more backup generators than we need. Even the off-grid gas turbine proposals out there feel a little nuts. Then, to say solar, 1,000 acres of land, a million batteries — it’s just so unconventional, it’s almost heretical. But when you soberly assess the performance criteria and how the landscape has shifted, particularly access to the grid being problematic right now, but also different requirements for AI training and a very high willingness to pay — as we demonstrate in our reference case with the Three Mile Island restart — it makes sense.
Hausfather: We should be clear, when we talk about reliability, a data center with what we model, which is solar, batteries, and 125% capacity backup gas generators, is still probably going to achieve upwards of 99% reliability. It’s just not gonna be the 99.999% that’s traditionally been needed for serving customers with data centers. You can relax some of the requirements around that.
Can you explain how you went about investigating what it would mean for data centers to use off-grid solar microgrids?
Campbell: First we just built a pretty simple power flow model that says, if you’re in a given location, the solar panel is going to make this much power every hour of the year. And if you have a certain amount of demand and a certain amount of battery, the battery is going to charge and discharge these times to make the demand and supply match. And then when it can’t, your generators will kick on. So that model is just for a given solar-battery-generator combo in a given location. Then what we did is made a huge scenario suite in 50-megawatt increments. Now you can see, for any level of renewable-ness you want, here’s what the [levelized cost of energy] is.
Hausfather: As you approach 100%, the costs start increasing exponentially, which isn’t a new finding, but you’re essentially having to overbuild more and more solar and batteries in order to deal with those few hours of the year where you have extended periods of cloudiness. Which is why it makes a lot more sense, financially, to have a system with some gas generator use — unless you happen to be in a situation where you can actually only run your data center 90% of the time. I think that’s probably a little too heretical for anyone today, but we did include that as one of the cases.
Did you consider water use? Because when you zoom in on the Southwest, that seems like it could be a constraint.
Hausfather: We talked about water use a little bit, but it wasn’t a primary consideration. One of the reasons is that how data centers are designed has a big effect on net water use. There are a lot of designs now that are pretty low — close to zero — water use, because you’re cycling water through the system rather than using evaporative cooling as the primary approach.
What do you want the takeaway from this report to be? Should all data centers be doing this? To what extent do you think this can replace other options out there?
Hausfather: There is a land rush right now for building data centers quickly. While there’s a lot of exciting investment happening in clean, firm generation like the enhanced geothermal that Fervo is doing, none of those are going to be available at very large scales until after 2030. So if you’re building data centers right now and you don’t want to cause a ton of emissions and threaten your company’s net-zero targets or the social license for AI more broadly, this makes a lot of sense as an option. The cost premium above building a gas system is not that big.
Campbell: For me, it’s two things. I see one purpose of this white paper being to reset rules of thumb. There’s this vestigial knowledge we have that this is impossible, and no, this is totally possible. And it seems actually pretty reasonable.
The second part that I think is really radical is the gigantic scale implied by this solution. Every other solution being proposed is kind of like finding a needle in a haystack — if we find this old steel mill, we could use that interconnection to build a data center, or, you know, maybe we can get Exxon to make carbon capture work finally. If a hyperscaler just wanted to build 10 gigawatts of data centers, and wanted one plan to do it, I think this is the most compelling option. The scalability implied by this solution is a huge factor that should be considered.
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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.”