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I spoke to experts about why the nascent industry is nothing like other climate solutions.

Is hydrogen really that different from an electric vehicle or a heat pump?
This is the provocative question raised by a letter sent to the U.S. Treasury Department last week by a hydrogen industry group, the latest salvo in an ongoing debate over the rules for a new tax credit for clean hydrogen that was created by the Inflation Reduction Act.
I’ve been covering this debate since December, when the public comment period for the rules first closed, and it has only grown fiercer as everyone awaits the Department’s decision. Clean hydrogen is essential to reduce emissions from fertilizer production, and likely a number of other industries, such as aviation, shipping, and steelmaking. But climate advocates and clean energy experts warn that producing hydrogen using electricity, a method incentivized by the tax credit, could actually increase greenhouse gas emissions unless the electricity comes from new wind, solar, or other carbon-free generators.
Industry groups say the opposite is true. Last week’s letter, penned by the Fuel Cell & Hydrogen Energy Association argued that this so-called “additionality” rule would “stifle the clean hydrogen market by adding unreasonable costs and delays,” thereby hurting the United States’ climate goals. The letter was signed by more than 50 companies and organizations, including Plug Power, Constellation Energy, Baker Hughes, the Chamber of Commerce, and General Motors,
When the government hands out subsidies for electric vehicles and heat pumps, it doesn’t require recipients to erect solar arrays, the letter points out. “It would be arbitrary and unfounded to presume hydrogen to have any more detrimental impact to the efforts to decarbonize than any other electric load,” it says.
On the surface, the comparison is compelling. But when I ran it by proponents of additionality, the logic broke down very quickly. And it’s worth talking about why hydrogen plants are, for a number of reasons, nothing like those other climate solutions, because the answers get to the heart of some of the risks and trade-offs of scaling up this new industry.
The Inflation Reduction Act explicitly says that hydrogen companies must meet certain emission thresholds to qualify for the tax credit, taking into account the “lifecycle greenhouse gas emissions” of production. It does not say that for electric vehicles or heat pumps.
The law establishes a tiered system, where hydrogen producers can earn more money depending on how low their emissions are. But researchers like Jesse Jenkins, a macro-scale energy systems engineer at Princeton University, have calculated that without additionality, electrolysis, an electricity-intensive method of making clean hydrogen, will induce so much new carbon pollution that it won’t even meet the minimum threshold to qualify for the credit.
That’s because when you add demand to the grid without adding any new energy supply, it’s almost guaranteed to cause a natural gas or coal plant to run more. Those are the only power plants we have right now that are capable of increasing their output to meet demand — especially at times of day when wind and solar are not available.
If companies are allowed to sign contracts with existing wind farms or nuclear power plants to qualify for the tax credit, this would simply rearrange the paperwork about who “owns” these resources. It wouldn’t change the outcome in the real world, where more coal would be shoveled into a power plant, spewing more carbon into the atmosphere. Jenkins’ lab modeled the long-term effects on energy markets and found that coal and natural gas plants that might have otherwise closed could even be kept open longer because of the increased demand for power.
“The letter does not even attempt to argue that a lack of additionality would be compatible with the emissions thresholds established by the law,” he said in an email.
Jenkins added that the law references a section of the Clean Air Act which defines “lifecycle greenhouse gas emissions” as “including direct emissions and significant indirect emissions.” (Emphasis added by Jenkins.) “This is simply the letter of the law,” he said. “Take it up with Congress!”
There’s a good reason Congress made this distinction.
Yes, the new electric load from EV charging and heat pumps will also often be met by firing up more fossil fuel power plants in the near term. However, electric vehicles and heat pumps are so much more efficient than the combustion engines and natural gas furnaces they replace, that they almost always reduce emissions regardless of where the electricity comes from.
The Department of Energy estimates that in Wyoming, for example, where more than 75% of electricity comes from coal, an electric vehicle’s annual carbon footprint would be less than half that of a gas-powered vehicle. And homeowners who replace their gas furnaces with heat pumps would reduce their emissions in at least 46 states, according to a 2020 study by the clean energy research organization RMI.
Electrolysis, on the other hand, is not more efficient than the reformation of natural gas, which is the carbon-intensive way most hydrogen is made today. Jenkins and others estimate that hydrogen plants would produce twice as many emissions as that process if they just plug into the grid, without bringing any new, clean electricity online.
Additionality proponents argue that it would be a huge mistake to subsidize the production of a fuel that does not have lower emissions than what it replaces. “If that is the final outcome,” said Jenkins, “the hydrogen subsidy will go down in history as a costly policy disaster, and the whole concept of ‘green hydrogen’ will become a farce.”
Conceptually, producing hydrogen is totally different from buying an electric car. “An electrolyser is not an end use appliance like an EV or a heat pump – it’s an intermediate step in the energy supply chain,” said Morgan Rote, director of U.S. climate policy at the Environmental Defense Fund.
Reaching this intermediate step requires so much energy that the benefits of producing hydrogen depend as much on what we use it for as how it’s made. Rote said that using hydrogen as a fuel for home heating or road transportation would require three to seven times more energy than switching to heat pumps and EVs. Many climate advocates argue that it should be reserved for applications that can’t otherwise run directly on electricity.
Danny Cullenward, a climate economist and research fellow at American University, said concerns about how hydrogen is made and used are “all the more pronounced given the extremely generous subsidy levels” in the tax credit. “Basically, [the tax credit] points a giant funnel of money at a technology that has a critical role, but one that must be carefully tailored to produce short- and long-term benefits.”
Cullenward suggested another reason the government should hold hydrogen producers to a higher standard than EV and heat pump buyers when doling out subsidies: Because it can.
“It's not unreasonable or infeasible to ask projects at the $100 million or $1 billion scale to procure clean energy,” he said. “In contrast, it would be administratively infeasible to ask homeowners to procure clean energy.”
He pointed to a recent analysis by the nonprofit Energy Innovation, which found that subjecting hydrogen producers to tight standards, like an additionality requirement, would not result in “unreasonable costs and delays” as the industry claims. By contrast, the report found that the tax credit is so generous that even with stringent emissions accounting rules like additionality, projects in many parts of the country will be able to sell their hydrogen at or below $1 per kilogram, outcompeting conventional hydrogen.
There are a lot of uncertainties about what it will take to successfully scale up clean hydrogen in the U.S., and disagreement about what the biggest near-term priorities should be.
But one thing that is clear: Clean hydrogen is a unique climate solution with specific risks and tradeoffs that can’t be ignored.
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The “35x35” electrification pledge and an AI pledge are on the table.
World leaders are flocking to the Mediterranean resort town of Antalya, Turkey, this weekend for the 31st United Nations Climate Change Conference, also known as COP31. The U.S., of course, will once again not attend, as President Trump not only withdrew the country from the Paris Agreement but also from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the umbrella group that organizes the annual conferences. Still, 194 other governments will be there, putting their heads together on how to move another few inches toward a safer future.
This year, as with the last several convenings, the meeting arrives against a backdrop of geopolitical instability, worsening climate impacts, and growing concern about energy security and affordability. While conflicts like the Iran war in some ways bolster the case for the energy transition by surfacing the risks of fossil fuel dependence, prioritizing energy security can manifest as countries turning inward and showing less willingness to work for the global good.
Perhaps the biggest item on this year’s agenda is the “35x35” pledge, Turkey’s proposal to electrify 35% of the world’s final energy use by 2035, up from about 23% today. That would mean switching from gas-powered cars to electric vehicles and from burning fuels for heat to electric heat pumps. It would not necessarily mean generating all of the electricity to power those devices from clean sources, although countries have committed to triple renewable energy capacity during previous COPs. Turkey itself does not have a plan to phase out fossil fuels, and its use of coal and natural gas-fired power plants has been growing alongside renewables.
It’s not yet clear whether Turkey will encourage countries to sign onto the pledge outside of the main negotiations or try to get it into the final decision text of the conference. In a twist, the conference has two countries sharing the presidency this year, with Turkey playing host and overseeing the “action agenda” — the announcements, commitments, and dealmaking that happen outside the official negotiations — and its co-chair, Australia, mediating the formal talks.
In addition to the electrification goal, Turkey is also inviting countries to sign an artificial intelligence pledge declaring a “shared ambition to make AI part of the climate solution — sustainably powered, efficiently designed, transparently measured and available to all.” The pledge has no teeth, however, as it explicitly states that it creates “no new obligations” and notes that it should be implemented according to national priorities and circumstances.
Although there will be no big agreement like there was in Paris in 2015, the two weeks of talks will end, per usual, with a consensus document that summarizes the outcomes of the negotiations. The final text from last year’s conference in Belém, Brazil, set a new goal to triple finance for climate adaptation by 2035. Countries also agreed to create a “Just Transition Mechanism,” a program to help fossil fuel-based economies navigate the socioeconomic consequences of shifting to clean energy. But the final text at COP30 did not ultimately mention the creation of a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels, despite more than 80 countries supporting the idea, and didn’t, in fact, mention “fossil fuels” at all.
Much of the work this year will be about building on those outcomes. The climate adaptation finance goal, for example, is still fuzzy, as the parties did not agree on a baseline year from which to triple the funding, or define what types of finance count toward the goal, meaning it’s unclear what the actual target amount for 2035 is. The Just Transition Mechanism is similarly skeletal — negotiators will need to hammer out how to operationalize it into something useful. Countries are also supposed to make progress on the Global Goal on Adaptation, an as-yet ill-defined goal first established in the Paris Agreement that negotiators are still working out how to implement.
Then there’s the overarching theme of finance. As I’ve written in the past, every annual climate conference is ultimately a fight over money — specifically how much developed countries are sending to developing countries to help them fight climate change and respond to its effects.
To date, countries have agreed to mobilize $1.3 trillion annually in climate finance from all sources for developing countries by 2035, with $300 specifically coming from developed countries. Climate finance reached record levels in 2024, the most recent year with comprehensive data, with total global flows hitting $2 trillion and funding from developed to developing countries reaching $136.7 billion.
But progress is uneven. Only 2% of global investment in renewable energy over the past two decades went to Africa, said Brian Mukhaya, a senior manager on the Clean Air Task Force’s Africa team, during a recent media briefing. Finance challenges may also collide with the conference’s electrification goal. More than 550 million people in sub-Saharan Africa lack access to electricity, Mukhaya said, and the continent will need seven to eight times current investment levels to achieve universal electricity access by 2030. Also, while the rising cost of capital is becoming an impediment to building clean energy projects everywhere in the world, the problem is acute in Africa, where the average cost of capital for power-sector investments is three to five times higher than in Europe and North America.
At COP31, negotiators will try to make progress on questions such as what form climate finance should take (grants, concessional loans, private finance, etc), how it can be more effectively distributed, and what it should be used for.
Another question hanging over this year’s conference is whether the final text will acknowledge the likelihood of surpassing 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, the more ambitious target laid out in the Paris Agreement. Last year’s decision text contained a tacit admission, with countries resolving to limit “the magnitude and duration of any temperature overshoot.” Doing so requires a more serious discussion of carbon removal strategies than delegates have engaged in to date.
With the world seemingly careening past the 1.5 degrees target, the annual climate talks have lost some of their luster. Critics increasingly call for a new approach. Ani Dasgupta, the president and CEO of the World Resources Institute, for example, wants the COPs to center more on accountability and holding countries to their commitments. He also recommends developing a new decision-making process that does not allow a handful of countries to block decisions. Since the substance of the negotiations is becoming more and more about how to finance the transition, he argues the conference should also broaden its tent to bring in finance ministers and central banks.
“Where we are today is different from 1992 when COPs were set up,” he said during a recent press call. “The world is different. The broader needs are different. We are at a different place in the transition. And we actually haven't reformed the system.”
Progressive candidate Jane Kim declared victory in the race for California Insurance Commissioner.
Few political wonks outside of California were likely paying much attention to the Golden State on Tuesday night, as Democrats’ anticipated blue wave crested. But the state did have one close, consequential race on the ballot: insurance commissioner. On Friday, Bernie Sanders-endorsed progressive Jane Kim won the race to lead the California Department of Insurance, which oversees the state’s $452 billion insurance market.
Kim declared victory over the more moderate State Senator Ben Allen, who was backed by the California Democratic Party, after reaching a nearly six-point lead on Friday. In a brief speech before supporters, Kim said Allen called to congratulate her that morning. (A spokesman for the Allen campaign confirmed the call to The Orange County Register.) Kim ran on a proposal for a state-run, single-payer insurance program that would cover homeowners against wildfire damage — though the plan would ultimately need approval from both the California legislature and Governor-elect Xavier Becerra.
The idea is that homeowners would automatically receive public coverage for wildfire-related losses, with payouts capped at roughly what it costs to rebuild a typical California home. Policyholders would keep their regular private insurance for other risks such as theft, burst pipes, or an ordinary kitchen fire. Kim says Californians wouldn’t pay more overall, since the money for the program would come from the share of premiums that already goes toward wildfire coverage, though each household’s bill would partly depend on its own wildfire risk.
“It would be nonprofit, and so any excess capital would stay in the state of California and would be used to drive down risk,” Kim told my colleague Matthew Zeitlin a few weeks ago. “That’s the most important piece about this actually, is that it would create another revenue stream for mitigation.”
The insurance commissioner job has taken on an increasing sense of urgency as wildfires — intensified by climate change — continue ripping through communities in California. Mounting losses from hotter, drier conditions combined with decades of new construction in the wildland-urban interface have squeezed insurers’ profits, leading many to drop policyholders in high-risk areas or simply stop writing new policies in the state altogether.
California’s homeowners insurance premiums climbed 84% between December 2020 and March of this year, according to Stanford researchers. Meanwhile, a growing number of residents have been pushed onto the state’s FAIR Plan, which my colleague Matthew described as “the barebones insurer of last resort.” The share of California’s single-family homes covered by the plan has nearly tripled over that same period, from under 2% to about 5%, as homeowners in even low- and moderate-risk wildfire areas increasingly find themselves with few alternatives.
The insurance crunch has become yet another front in California’s broader affordability crisis, alongside persistently high housing, electricity, and gasoline costs. Kim’s victory suggests frustrated voters are increasingly willing to support more radical solutions that once seemed politically out of reach. And while Kim doesn’t have a background in the insurance industry, she’s no stranger to public office. The former civil rights attorney served on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2011 to 2019 before becoming a regional director for Sanders’ 2020 presidential campaign.
But throughout her run for the Insurance office, critics have continually questioned how, exactly, her plan would work. No state has attempted a public disaster insurance program like this before; critics argue there’s no relevant model to work off of, no white paper laying out the details, and no price tag attached to the idea. Kim herself acknowledges that there’s plenty of uncertainty surrounding the plan. “This is a concept and a proposal, and could look quite different by the time it works its way through the process,” she told Matthew. In other words, the program that eventually emerges from negotiations with lawmakers — if one does — could end up looking considerably different from what Kim campaigned on.
Her opponent, Allen, who chairs the state senate’s Energy, Utilities and Communications Committee, argued that creating a public wildfire insurance program would impose a significant financial burden on the state. The California Earthquake Authority, an agency that sells earthquake insurance and administers the state’s Wildfire Fund, examined the potential costs of such a program this spring, estimating it would require roughly $25 billion upfront to have a 75% chance of staying solvent for 20 years. But Kim points out in her policy brief that buying reinsurance — essentially insurance for the insurer — could cut that to about $6 billion.
Allen, on the other hand, pitched a series of reforms to the existing market, including speeding up rate reviews, rewarding homeowners and communities for wildfire mitigation, expanding financing for home-hardening projects, and discouraging development in high-risk areas.
Voters opted instead for the insurance revolution. But Kim argues that her plan isn’t totally without precedent. On the campaign trail, she frequently pointed to New Zealand, where the government’s Natural Hazards Commission provides homeowners with public coverage for disasters including earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis — though notably not ordinary wildfires. And while France and Spain also operate state-backed disaster insurance programs, these don’t cover wildfires either, a far more common occurrence in California than the comparably rare disasters these programs were built around abroad.
Ultimately, Kim’s ambitious plan will require a champion in the legislature to go anywhere. But in the meantime, there are other issues she could get to work on. On the campaign trail, she said she wants to push insurers to fund a disaster mitigation program run by the Department of Insurance, require companies selling auto policies in a region to also offer homeowners coverage there, and impose minimum loss ratios compelling home insurers to pay at least 65% of premiums in claims and auto insurers at least 70%. It’s unclear, however, whether Kim can implement either of the latter two proposals without new legislation.
Kim will also immediately face the question of what to do with outgoing Insurance Commissioner Ricardo Lara’s Sustainable Insurance Strategy reform package. Designed to entice insurers back to California, these new rules allow companies to set premiums using forward-looking risk models rather than relying on historical losses, and to pass a portion of their rising reinsurance costs onto policyholders. In exchange, insurers are required to write more policies in wildfire-prone areas.
Kim has criticized this approach, arguing that insurers have exploited loopholes to raise premiums on lower-risk customers while continuing to underserve high-risk communities, all without doing enough to address the underlying factors driving wildfire risk.
That leaves Kim in a tricky situation. Until she is able to secure legislative backing for some version of her proposed public insurance program, she’ll have to decide whether to scrap or simply build on the existing reforms. She hasn’t yet laid out any plan for doing so. But whatever direction she takes could ultimately reshape California’s insurance market well before a new state insurer gets off the ground.
They only ticked up by 5% this week.
Beyond the repudiation of Donald Trump, if there was one message voters sent on election night, it was that they really don’t like data centers.
Democrats who ran against rampant data center development won at both the gubernatorial level (Amy Acton in Ohio, Gina Hinojosa in Texas) and the senatorial level (Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan, Annie Andrews in South Carolina). The Wall Street Journal counted 125 Democrats nationwide who “targeted their opponents over data centers.”
“Data centers are the midterms’ other big loser,” according to Politico. “The Results Are In: Voters Hate Data Centers,” from Wired.
Commentators didn’t just notice that many anti-data-center candidates won, but that a number of local data center moratoria passed as well. “In nearly every case, it’'s about 67-80% opposing data centers. True in California, Ohio, everywhere,” Brad Carson, head of the artificial intelligence policy group Americans for Responsible Innovation tweeted. Added Democratic strategist David Shor on X, “Voters sided against data centers in 40 of 41 ballot measures, with basically no correlation to how red a county was.”
But as far as new legislation and ordinances go, November 3 was just another Tuesday in the long-running local campaign against data center development, Heatmap Pro data shows.
“Forty is a lot in one day,” Owen Curtin, a data analyst with our intelligence platform Heatmap Pro, admitted, but “in terms of the rate at which county governments are enacting legislation and the overwhelming public support for them, it’s not new.”
There have been over 830 restrictive measures passed this year, according to analysis from Heatmap Pro, which breaks down to just over 80 per month. The numbers picked up substantially in the summer and fall.

June 15 to 21 was the busiest week of the year for passing data center laws, at 35, and June the month with the most laws passed overall, with 133. Another95 restrictive laws were passed in July, followed by 86 in October.
Of the 40 ballot measures passed this week, only one applied at the county level (Morgan County, Illinois), where a great deal of data center permitting occurs. “While many municipalities permit data centers, a significant portion are permitted by county governments. Not all counties have the legal authority to pursue ballot measures, which is why most November 2 measures were at the municipal level,” Curtin explained.
“While the overwhelming support for local data center ballot measures is indicative of public sentiment (largely anti-data center), it doesn’t necessarily correlate with the regulatory landscape,” he went on. And here’s a fun fact: “There are over 19,000 municipalities in the U.S., so 40 bans are only 0.2% of all municipalities,” Curtain added. “If 40 municipalities banned data centers every day, it would take 475 days to ban data centers across the entire U.S.”