When a solar energy developer approached Halifax County, North Carolina, in the early 2010s about renting its former airfield in Roanoke Rapids, community leaders had a condition.
“If they were willing to lease this land for the very first solar project in the area, the county needed to get something back in return,” said Mozine Lowe from her office, which overlooks the 20 megawatt solar farm now atop the old airport. “What they got was this building.”
Of course, it’s more than a building. It’s the headquarters for the Center for Energy Education, the nonprofit Lowe has run since 2016 that works to maximize the benefits of large solar farms in rural America — one community, one school child, and one worker at a time.
Lowe, who grew up about five miles from where she now works, had graduated from Greensboro’s North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University but worked across the country, from California to Washington, D.C.
When she returned to this rural county of less than 50,000 near the Virginia border, formerly a hub of farming and textiles, she said she didn’t see a lot of change.
“The jobs were the same,” she said. “I didn’t see people making the connection between solar energy and what’s happening with the climate and the impact on rural communities, and I just wanted to try and help from that angle.”
The Center conducts educational programs for children of all ages, who come in by the busload from surrounding schools both public and private. It holds a Solar Fest every year to celebrate clean energy with community leaders, drawing hundreds.
Through collaborations with local educational institutions like community colleges, the center has also helped to train a new workforce in jobs that pay roughly twice what workers are earning at the fast-food chains off Interstate 95.
“We have trained more people than most other people around here to become solar installers,” Lowe said. “We want them to be first in line for our jobs.”
And there’s outreach to solar companies themselves in North Carolina as well as Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana, where the Center also has offices. The goal is to help them become better community partners.
Only a few ‘good players’
Geenex, the Charlotte-based developer who built the solar farm at the airport and over a dozen others in the vicinity, is still involved in the Center, and the company’s chairman also chairs the nonprofit’s board.
But Lowe and other staff at the organization say not every solar developer is committed — at least at first — to working with community leaders in Eastern North Carolina.
“Geenex is a very good partner,” said Reginald Bynum, the Center’s community outreach manager. “They’re a good player. But there are only a few of them. Other companies will say, ‘This is your ordinance? Great. This is all I have to do.’”
Some county ordinances, like that in Halifax, need to be updated, Bynum said. Many still call for a 75-foot buffer between the rows of solar panels and neighboring properties. That figure is “so 2018,” said Bynum. It should be doubled, he said.
Most solar farms are also built on private land — often bits of farmland that can help cotton growers and other farmers guarantee income. But developers usually obtain the leases first, before airing the project in public.
“That’s the backwards process of solar,” Bynum said. “They’re talking to landowners and securing that land, and then they’re coming to commissioners.”
What’s more, simply following ordinances isn’t enough, Bynum says. What’s needed is for solar developers to work with local residents to develop community benefits agreements — documents that memorialize pluses to the area, from minimizing construction impacts to providing jobs.
“It’s a 30-year commitment to the community,” he said, “because your farm’s going to be here 30 years. They’re asking for that, and they deserve that.”
Critically, say Bynum and other advocates, solar developers need to work with community leaders to provide benefits beyond tax revenue — an undeniable good, but one that isn’t “seen” by anyone except county bookkeepers.
And though a recent study from the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association shows that solar farms today take up a fraction of a percent of the state’s farmland, the figure is a full 1% in Halifax County, and on pace to triple in the coming years, according to the Center’s research.
“From rural citizens’ standpoint, that’s a lot,” Bynum said. “You have to really understand what they’re seeing.”
‘Projects have gotten bigger’
Part of what they’re seeing is the result of a simple fact: solar farms aren’t just growing more abundant in parts of rural America. They’re also much larger.
In North Carolina up until 2016, the average utility-scale solar development was 5.8 megawatts covering 35 acres of land, per the Sustainable Energy Association. After a 2017 state law made larger solar farms easier to build, the average system size increased to 13.6 megawatts and covered 115 acres of land.
“Projects have gotten bigger,” said Carson Harkrader, the CEO of Durham-based Carolina Solar Energy, who appeared on a recent clean energy panel with Bynum. “As they’ve gotten bigger, people freak out a little bit.”
And while many folks’ worries about the visual impact of solar panels can be mollified — with tree buffers, setbacks, and information about the safety of the structures — some are easy targets for opponents.
“The opposition has become much, much, more organized. There are national groups, funded by the oil and gas industry,” Harkrader said. “With this opposition that is more organized and has more resources, it’s much harder.”
In some cases, opponents may fill a vacuum left by solar companies who lined up projects before the pandemic and have only recently begun to start construction.
That’s what happens, said Bynum, “when you miss steps in keeping citizens updated with the project — particularly when you started talking about it five years before. Commissioners change, a lot of tribal knowledge evaporates.”
More success stories?
And sometimes, it only takes one or two community members to force the issue with local politicians. Both neighboring Northampton and Halifax counties have passed moratoriums on new solar farms recently. Halifax acted after just a few people appeared at their meeting, concerned about the loss of trees.
Having talked with county commissioners, staff at the Center are hopeful the moratorium will end quickly as planned, after the county has updated its ordinance. But the “pause” on solar farms is an example of the constant game of whack-a-mole solar developers and their advocates must play.
Lowe says that’s why the Center is so vital.
“What makes us unique is that our work is mainly community engagement,” she said. “Our stance is to be neutral, and to provide factual information. I think we need to tell more success stories.”
This article was originally published by Floodlight.
A small town in North Carolina has taken a bold step, filing the first climate “deception” lawsuit against an electric utility in the United States.
In a civil lawsuit, the Town Council of Carrboro accuses Duke Energy, one of the largest power companies in the United States, of orchestrating a decades-long campaign of denialism and cover up over the dangers of fossil fuel emissions. The lawsuit claims Duke’s actions stalled the transition to clean energy and exacerbated the climate crisis.
Over the past decade, similar suits have been filed by states and communities against large oil companies and — in at least one instance — a gas utility. But Carrboro, N.C., is the first municipality to ever file such a suit against an electric utility.
“We’re a very bold group,” Carrboro Mayor Barbara Foushee told Floodlight. “And we know how urgent this climate crisis is.”
Duke Energy said in a statement, “We are in the process of reviewing the complaint. Duke Energy is committed to its customers and communities and will continue working with policymakers and regulators to deliver reliable and increasingly clean energy while keeping rates as low as possible.”
The suit, filed in Orange County, North Carolina, accuses Duke Energy of intentionally spreading false information about the negative effects of fossil fuels for decades, despite knowing since the late 1960s about planet-warming properties of carbon dioxide emissions. It claims the power company funded trade organizations and climate skeptic scientists who created doubts about the greenhouse effect and obstructed policy and public action on climate change.
“Duke misled the public concerning the causes and consequences of climate change and thereby materially slowed the transition away from fossil fuels and toward renewable energy. Duke’s deception campaign served to protect its fossil fuel-based business model.” the lawsuit reads.
Between 2005 and 2023, the company reported reducing its CO2 emissions from electricity generation by 44%. But in 2023, at least 45% of the electricity Duke produced was still generated by burning coal or methane gas.
“(Duke) was one of the ringleaders behind deceiving the public and municipalities and governments about the causes and consequences of manmade climate change,” said Raleigh attorney Matthew Quinn, who is representing the town.
Carrboro is a town of about 20,000 with an annual budget of $81 million, Foushee said. Quinn, the attorney, estimates the town will incur some $60 million in costs in adapting to climate change impacts, including repairs to roads, upgrades to stormwater systems and increased heating and cooling costs.
At a press conference Wednesday, Quinn explained that expert analysts had arrived at that number based on the amount and cost of climate adaptation that Carrboro would have undertaken had it not been for Duke’s alleged deception.
“There’s a major gulf between where we should be at and where we are right now,” Quinn said at the press conference.
“Really, what this case is about is that Carrboro has been a victim of the climate deception campaign by Duke Energy, (and) as a result of Duke’s conduct, Carrboro has suffered a lot of damages and injustice,” Quinn said in an interview.
Added Danny Nowell, Carrboro Mayor pro tem: “We have paid for it. We have paid for excess road repairs. We have faced the effects of stormwater, and we will continue to pay for other expenses as we uncover them. It’s time for Carrboro to be repaid.”
Quinn’s fees are being paid by NC Warn, a climate nonprofit, Foushee said.
“People that run local governments and others and people that run corporations, they all better get heavily serious about the climate crisis,” said Jim Warren, executive director of NC Warn. “It’s already harming so many across this state.”
Bob Jarvis, a law professor at Nova Southeastern University, called such lawsuits “cute.”
“And I use that term very, you know, intentionally. These lawsuits are cute in the sense that they’re trying to shame companies … into doing better,” said Jarvis, adding that they are rarely successful. “Companies have duties to their shareholders to maximize profits. And so what these lawsuits are really saying is that companies should be punished for maximizing profit.”
“It’s interesting with this as a case directly against a utility,” said Korey Silverman-Roati, a senior fellow at the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law. “It’s a shift in perspective from companies just producing fossil fuels to those burning it.”
Although this is the first climate deception lawsuit ever filed against an electric utility, it is not the first time that electric utilities have found themselves in legal trouble for the climate warming pollution their power plants spew as they burn fossil fuels to generate electricity.
In 2004, electric companies faced federal litigation brought by eight U.S. states, New York City and several land trusts seeking to cap the companies’ CO2 emissions. The U.S. Supreme Court unanimously ruled against the plaintiffs.
Floodlight is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates the powerful interests stalling climate action.
Charlotte, North Carolina, may soon get access to a new tool to deploy in its push toward 100% clean power: data.
The Tar Heel state’s largest city aims to power all government operations with carbon-free electricity by the end of the decade, including the city-owned Charlotte-Douglas International Airport, one of the busiest in the world.
But the hub is a big question mark for the city’s climate target. Officials don’t actually know how much energy it uses — or how much renewable energy they need to offset it — because the utility bills for the five-terminal airport are paid by dozens of individual customers, from Cinnabon to Jamba Juice to airline club lounges.
Now, after a decade of urging by Charlotte and others, Duke Energy has a proposal to change that: an eight-page plan for improved data access that has sign-off from the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association; Public Staff, the state-sanctioned customer advocate; and Dominion Energy, which serves the northeast corner of the state.
Filed last month with regulators for approval, Duke’s proposed rules could have wide application, said Ethan Blumenthal, regulatory counsel for the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association.
“For municipalities applying for federal grants, large customers pursuing energy efficiency, and homeowners and solar companies that are trying to right-size solar installations,” Blumenthal said, “this access to data is essential.”
Avoiding a ‘laborious process’
The Charlotte airport is a prime example of one hurdle facing local communities with climate goals. Today, getting total energy usage data for government-owned buildings with multiple meters means reaching out to individual tenants to get permission to access their accounts.
“It would be a very laborious process to do that at the airport and anywhere else we have tenants,” said Aaron Tauber, Charlotte’s sustainability analyst.
The problem extends to private building owners who aim to reduce their carbon footprints or improve efficiency but don’t have insight into their renters’ energy consumption. Honeywell, for instance, is a partner in the city’s “Power Down the Crown” initiative, whereby building managers look to reduce energy use by optimizing efficiency.
“They don’t own all of the data,” Tauber said. “They have tenants in their properties. So, they don’t have visibility to the entire building’s energy use.”
The new rule will allow a large user, from Honeywell to Charlotte, to access aggregated data for a large building with multiple tenants by request to Duke, so long as at least 15 individual accounts are involved, and none consumes more than 15% of the building’s energy use.
“Being a larger city, we do have a lot of large buildings with multiple tenants,” said Tauber. “I’m just really excited for these building owners to really — for the first time — gain an understanding of how their buildings are using energy.”
That understanding, he said, is critical for commercial properties to access a new law that allows them to borrow public money for energy efficiency upgrades and pay it back on their property tax bills.
“Being able to unlock a financing mechanism based on this data will really go a long way for the city to be able to meet our strategic energy action goal of being a low-carbon community,” said Tauber.
Not just for big buildings
The data access rule also applies to a census block, zip code, or other area with at least 15 accounts, which will help local governments meet community-wide climate goals.
“You can use the aggregated data to make good decisions for program design, and where you might want to target,” said Ann Livingston, senior executive and director of programs with the Southeast Sustainability Directors Network. “You can assess: is this particular block or neighborhood really using a lot more energy per house per square foot than others?”
Durham County, for instance, together with neighboring Granville and Orange counties, has a $1.5 million federal grant to help low-income homeowners cut their energy use through weatherization and other upgrades.
“We want to focus in areas where there’s a higher energy use or higher energy burden,” said Tobin Freid, the county’s sustainability manager. “We’d like information at a more granular level than just the county.”
If the new Duke rule is approved, it will also help county officials better tailor the program to individual households and assess its impacts. The proposal would ease the approval process for allowing third-party access to data and ensure that at least two years of prior energy use is included.
“For every home that we work on, we would need historic data to see: what was your energy use before?” Freid said.
Both the aggregated data and third-party access provisions will also be critical for federal programs like Solar for All, aimed at deploying rooftop solar on low-income households.
“Often, those federal funding opportunities require you to assess and report on energy impact,” said Livingston. “Solar for All will be a very clear example of this, where you need to report energy savings for individual participants.”
Growing interest in local impact
Apart from the sustainability goals, government officials also have a commitment to manage public dollars efficiently, Livingston noted. That’s especially pertinent for large energy users like Durham County, who may pay a higher “demand charge” for a single 30-minute spike in energy use. Large customers with net-metered solar power also pay more during times of peak demand.
The proposed rules will help solve these challenges by allowing third parties access to machine-readable, easily analyzed data for customers of all sizes. The format would essentially meet national “Green Button” standards, one familiar to the many companies around the country dedicated to managing building energy performance.
The Green Button initiative, a project of the U.S. Department of Energy that originated in Canada, has been around for over a decade – about as long as the Sustainable Energy Association has been advocating for improved customer data access, along with counties like Durham.
But the issue seems to have gained new steam in recent months, as local governments look to take advantage of new federal grants and laws aimed at reducing climate pollution.
What’s more, Blumenthal said, Duke has pledged to implement the rules within 18 months of their approval and help expedite any data requests in the interim.
“There is a commitment to doing everything they can, essentially, to provide data for federal funding purposes up until [the proposal] is fully implemented,” Blumenthal said. “A commitment to try to bridge the gap.”
Asked what prompted the agreement with Blumenthal’s group and others after all this time, Duke spokesperson Logan Stewart said over email:
“A lot has changed in the last decade from a technology, cybersecurity, and customer engagement perspective that made this stipulation possible. Duke Energy is always looking for ways to collaborate with stakeholders to achieve outcomes that benefit customers.”
Mark Fleming has a prediction for those terrified about the impact of a second Trump administration on the clean energy transition: “It’s going to work out better than folks think.”
Fleming is head of Conservatives for Clean Energy, a Raleigh-based nonprofit that brings together lobbyists, consultants, and politicians on the right who support clean energy. The group formed a decade ago, not long before Trump’s first term began, and is now active in six Southeast states. On Tuesday, together with the Chambers for Innovation and Clean Energy, it held its biennial luncheon in downtown Raleigh.
Coming just two weeks after an election most advocates see as a major setback for federal clean energy policy, the Raleigh event was not unlike past affairs, with congenial vibes, a half dozen awards to politicians and businesses, and presentation from leading Republican consultants assessing the political salience of clean energy.
“It was an election about the economy and immigration,” explained Paul Shumaker, one such pollster and a fixture at these gatherings. “Clean energy is never going to be the issue.”
Trump and his hostile, mostly fact-free rants on the campaign trail about wind energy and the climate crisis got little mention during the formal presentations. Side conversations showed conservatives seemed relatively unconcerned about the future president’s tirades and threats.
“Governing is different than campaigning,” Fleming said.
He and others believe much of Trump’s rhetoric was tossed as red meat to his base of supporters and won’t get meaningful follow-through. On technologies such as offshore wind — which the incoming president frequently lambasts — perhaps the administration and even the man himself can be convinced of its economic benefits, attendees suggested.
Virginia Gov. Glenn Youngkin, a Republican who supports offshore wind in the commonwealth, “will be at the top of the list of conservative policy makers in terms of encouraging the Trump administration to look at the positives on offshore wind,” Fleming said. “It makes long term economic sense, but there’s going to be some education there.”
Nine new projects announced in North Carolina the year after the measure’s passage, from lithium processing to vehicle-charging equipment plants, will spur tens of thousands of jobs and add $10 billion to the state’s GDP, the clean economy group E2 found.
Such data should be fodder for members of Congress like Sen. Thom Tillis, North Carolina’s senior U.S. senator and a Republican, to fight to keep most of the Inflation Reduction Act’s provisions.
“He has been such a thoughtful leader on energy issues,” Fleming said of Tillis. “He’s going to be a key decision maker in the U.S. Senate on these clean energy issues moving forward.”
‘We won’t agree on everything’
Jason Saine, a Lincoln County Republican who served more than a dozen years in the North Carolina House and now works as a lobbyist, was among the luncheon’s awardees. He says Trump’s rhetoric is just part of politics.
“Good science and good facts will rule the day, but in the meantime, we’ll suffer through a lot of rhetoric,” he said.
Like some of his conservative colleagues who focus on federal policy, Fleming hopes the closely divided Congress will have new reason to enact reforms to the permitting process that will speed approval of clean energy as well as fossil fuel projects.
And though he’s confident that much of the Inflation Reduction Act will survive, Fleming believes Congress will trim it — a “scalpel rather than a sledgehammer” approach.
Saine agrees. “It can always be recreated in a different format and voted on again,” he said. “What’s dead today is never dead tomorrow.”
One item in the climate law that’s ripe for repeal is the $7,500 tax credit for electric vehicles, Fleming said. That incentive is spurring plenty of economic development in rural areas in the form of EV and battery factories, but it’s perceived as benefiting only urban folk.
“The administration will want wins,” Fleming insisted. “We won’t agree on everything. But I think we’ll have opportunities to work together to move the economy forward and move the clean energy cause forward in D.C.”
No matter what, most of the luncheon attendees remained focused on incremental reforms in North Carolina — where the power dynamics are largely unchanged after Nov. 5. Trump won the state, but Democrat Josh Stein trounced a scandal-plagued Republican to win the governor’s race. The GOP continues to control a heavily gerrymandered legislature and is just one vote shy of a veto-proof majority in the House.
Still, as “Trump II” approaches, Fleming acknowledged Conservatives for Clean Energy has an important role to play.
“It’s going to be better than folks think,” he repeated. “But the onus will be on all of us to make it happen. Now, groups like ours are more needed than ever. That thought leadership on these issues will be on the right. It’s not going to be from our friends on the left.”
When regulators allowed Duke Energy to lower bill credits to homes with rooftop solar, critics warned the solar industry would suffer a major loss.
A year after the new rates took effect, available data show those detractors had a point, with new household solar connections in Duke territory on pace to drop about 40% compared to 2023.
Yet the reason for the dip is multifaceted — ranging from steep interest rates to the loss of a popular rebate program — and seems to have had little impact on longtime installers in the state.
Indeed, many say they’re optimistic about the future of home solar, partly because of new Duke incentives for home batteries that are already having an impact. Their push now is to extend and expand them.
“We believe this is a strong way forward to support our utility grid and the ability of homeowners to produce and use their own energy,” said Brandon Pendry, communications specialist at Southern Energy Management, an installer based in Raleigh.
A complex truce on net metering
Most homes that go solar stay connected to the utility grid, drawing electricity at night and providing surplus power on sunny days. The question is what bargain these solar owners strike with their utility for this give and take, known as net metering.
The arrangement for Duke’s North Carolina customers was long straightforward: they bought the electrons they needed at the retail rate and sold excess ones back at the same rate. Like all customers, they faced a minimum bill charge for the company’s fixed grid costs, such as poles and wires.
But this approach has downsides for a for-profit utility like Duke, whose business model depends on buying or producing electrons at one cost and selling them for a higher one. Like many utilities around the country, Duke had sought for years to impose more costs on solar customers and credit them less for their contributions to the grid.
A major campaign contributor in the state legislature with an army of lobbyists, Duke helped write and pass two laws, one in 2017 and another in 2021, requiring an end to retail net metering by 2027.
Seeking to avoid the bruising battles over net metering seen in California and other states, some North Carolina solar installers and clean energy advocacy nonprofits sought – and achieved – compromise with Duke instead.
Under the deal, new solar customers can choose a “time of use” rate, in which they’re rewarded more for electrons they add to the grid, and charged more for those they subtract, during times of heavy demand. Alternatively, until the start of 2027, customers can select a “bridge rate,” in which they get a one-to-one exchange for electrons taken from and given to the grid.
While sophisticated customers might conceivably squeeze out substantial benefits of solar with the time-of-use rates, installers pushed the bridge rate for its simplicity and certainty, which they deem nearly as good as the old net metering rate.
“All in all, I think residential solar installers are feeling excited about where the industry is going right now,” said Matt Abele, the executive director of the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association.
Industry cross currents
But the dip in sales since the complex truce took effect is undeniable. Abele’s group tracked a huge spike in solar projects registered with state regulators in September 2023, just before the new net metering rates were implemented, followed by a steep drop off that bottomed out last December.
Different metrics supplied by Duke — solar connections rather than registrations — show new solar rooftop customers on pace to number about 5,300 in 2024, compared to about 9,100 in 2023 and 10,200 in 2022. The number also falls well short of Duke’s own predictions for new residential solar customers for this year of 11,400.
Yet the installers contacted for this article were largely unfazed. Reached before the devastation of Hurricane Helene, Clary Franko, chief operating officer at Asheville’s Sugar Hollow Solar, predicted sales this year would be lower than last, but not by a huge amount. “Hooray for the bridge rate!” she said.
Executives at Yes Solar Solutions, based in Cary, agreed. “In residential, the net metering bridge rate has kind of kept things intact,” said Stew Miller, president of the company. “I think everybody's doing as well as to be expected.”
And Pendry at Southern Energy Management said his company had more potential customers this year than the year before.
“Looking back at our previous 12-month period, we saw high interest from homeowners who wanted to lock into the legacy net metering program,” he said. “Moving into this last 12-month period, we have seen slightly more interest in solar overall.”
The disconnect between these companies’ optimism and the decline in sales may reflect that fewer installers are doing business now in North Carolina, with 40 companies registering new systems in the state in August versus 57 last September, according to the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association.
Indeed, established rooftop solar companies say part of their business model now includes cleaning up after so-called bad actors, who installed panels incorrectly or incompletely during the heady days of the early 2020’s.
“There were so many systems that were put in in our area that we’re having to redo,” said Dave Hollister, president of Asheville-based Sundance Solar Systems. “It's been a significant problem in our community.”
Still, a spokesperson for EnergySage, a marketplace that helps connect vetted solar companies with customers, says the company hasn't seen any decrease in the number of active vetted installers working in the state.
It’s also true that the most successful companies are used to the “solar coaster,” the ebb and flow of sales based on policies as well as market conditions. Installations rose sharply immediately after the pandemic, when Duke was still offering rebates, the old net metering rates were in effect, and interest rates were low. That all changed.
“As usual, we have all these cross currents in the industry,” said Hollister. “I can say that probably the biggest chilling effect was the interest rate hikes.”
‘An incredible program’
There’s another key factor fueling hope among solar installers: Power Pair, a battery incentive program implemented this spring that was the final puzzle piece in the net metering compromise with Duke.
For adding a home battery, Duke customers can get a rebate on both it and their solar array. Combined with a 30% federal tax credit, the cash back could cut the cost of an average $40,500 system down to less than $20,000.
Power Pair participants subscribed to the simpler bridge rate allow Duke to remotely manage their battery and earn an extra $37 a month on average. Enrollees in the more complicated time-of-use rate plan, on the other hand, don’t get monthly incentives but do retain full control of their systems.
Installers say the incentive is a huge hit, with the great majority of their customers now choosing the bridge rate and buying a battery along with solar panels.
“It’s gotten us to a place where we always thought we would be,” said Miller of Yes Solar, “in that many, if not most, solar systems now include some element of storage.”
The battery inducement drove interest in solar overall, said Bryce Bruncati, director of residential sales with 8M Solar. A whopping 95% of its customers are now installing batteries with their solar systems, as opposed to about a quarter before. “The Power Pair program has been a big success,” he said.
The uptick in batteries occurred statewide, according to EnergySage. Sixty-nine percent of North Carolina homeowners who went solar with EnergySage in the third quarter of 2024 included battery storage, compared to just 8% in the same period in 2023.
Still, Power Pair is just a pilot program, set to end when each Duke utility reaches a cap of 30,000 kilowatts. Duke reports about 2,000 participants as of early September. According to the company’s website, the utility serving the Asheville area and the eastern part of the state is 36% full, and the one serving central North Carolina is 21% full.
For the solar industry and its advocates, then, the priorities looking forward are several. Extend Power Pair, and count on market forces to make batteries and rooftop solar economically attractive even when the bridge rate expires in 2027. At the same time, expand the incentives to include small businesses and nonprofits, currently under new net metering rates.
“Power Pair has been an incredible program,” said Sugar Hollow’s Franko. Extending it to the commercial sector would make a huge difference, she said, “opening the door for new types of industries that probably aren't thinking about this because sustainability isn't their goal, but reliability would be.”
Correction: Duke Energy's Power Pair pilot program was 36% full for the utility serving the Asheville area and 21% full for the utility serving central North Carolina. An earlier version of this story included incorrect numbers.
North Carolina regulators on Friday accepted Duke Energy’s controversial plan for curbing carbon pollution, a blueprint that ramps up renewable energy and ratchets down coal power but also includes 9 gigawatts of new plants that burn natural gas.
The biennial plan is mandated under a 2021 state law, which requires Duke to zero out its climate-warming emissions by midcentury and cut them 70% by the end of the decade.
The timing of the order from the North Carolina Utilities Commission, two months ahead of schedule, caught many advocates by surprise. But its content did not: it hewed closely to a settlement deal Duke reached this summer with a trade group for the renewable energy industry; Walmart; and Public Staff, the state-sanctioned ratepayer advocate.
But critics were dismayed by regulators’ abdication of the 2030 deadline. The ruling said Duke no longer needed a plan to make the reductions by decade’s end, instead telling it to “pursue ‘all reasonable steps’ to achieve the [70%] target by the earliest possible date.”
“Major step back on climate,” Maggie Shober, research director at the Southern Alliance for Clean Energy,” wrote on X, the website formerly known as Twitter, adding, “for those that say it couldn’t be done, Duke had a 67% reduction by 2030 in its 2020 [long-range plan.] The utility industry generally, and Duke in particular, has had opportunity after opportunity to do better. They chose not to, and here we are.”
“Duke’s plan isn’t even compliant with the latest EPA regulations related to greenhouse gas pollution,” David Rogers, deputy director of the Sierra Club’s Beyond Coal Campaign, said in a statement.
Concerns about the Biden-Harris rules, along with doubt that the natural gas plants could be converted to burn carbon-free hydrogen, appeared not to persuade regulators.
“The Commission acknowledges that there are uncertainties and risks associated with new natural gas-fired generation resources, but this is true of all resources,” the panel wrote.
On the contrary, regulators believe Duke can make use of gas plants after the state’s 2050 zero-carbon deadline, even if clean hydrogen doesn’t pan out.
“Accordingly,” the panel said, “the Commission determines that a 35-year anticipated useful life of new natural gas-fired generation and its assumed capital costs are reasonable for planning purposes.”
The greenlight for the gas infrastructure is not absolute, commissioners emphasized in their order, since Duke still must obtain a separate permit for the facilities. But advocates still bemoaned the anticipated impact on customers.
“This order leaves the door open for Duke Energy to stall on carbon compliance in order to develop additional resources, like natural gas, that largely benefit their shareholders over ratepayers,” Matt Abele, the executive director of the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association, said via text message.
‘Positive step’ for offshore wind
Still, Abele and other advocates acknowledged the plan’s upsides, including its increase in renewables like solar and batteries. The 2022 plan limited those resources to about 1 gigawatt per year; this year’s version increases the short-term annual addition to about 1.7 gigawatts.
Regulators’ decision to bless 2.4 gigawatts of offshore wind by 2034 and call for Duke to complete an “Acquisition Request for Information” by next summer also drew measured praise.
“This order is an overall positive step for offshore wind,” Karly Lohan, North Carolina program manager for the Southeastern Wind Coalition, said in an email, adding, “we still need to see Duke move with urgency and administer the [request for information] as soon as possible.”
With regulators required to approve a new carbon-reduction plan for Duke every two years, advocates are already looking ahead to next year, when the process begins anew.
“Proceedings in 2025 present another chance to get North Carolina back on track to achieving the carbon reduction goals as directed by state law,” Will Scott, Environmental Defense Fund’s director of Southeast climate and clean energy, said in a statement.
“By accelerating offshore wind and solar, the Commission could still set a course for meaningful emissions reductions from the power sector that are fueling the effects of climate change, including dangerous and expensive storms like Hurricane Helene.”
And like Scott, David Neal, senior attorney with the Southern Environmental Law Center, isn’t giving up on the state’s 2030 carbon-reduction deadline, the commission’s latest order notwithstanding.
“We’ll continue to push for the clean energy future that North Carolinians deserve and that state law and federal carbon pollution limits mandate,” he said in a statement.
Seventeen days after Hurricane Helene devastated Western North Carolina, tearing down power lines, destroying water mains, and disabling cell phone towers, the signs of relief were hard to miss.
Trucks formed a caravan along Interstate 40, filled with camouflaged soldiers, large square tanks of water, and essentials from pet food to diapers. In towns, roadside signs — official versions emblazoned with nonprofit relief logos and wooden makeshift ones scrawled with paint — advertised free food and water.
And then there were the generators.
The noisy machines powered the trailers where Asheville residents sought showers, weeks after the city’s water system failed. They fueled the food trucks delivering hot meals to the thousands without working stoves. They filtered water for communities to drink and flush toilets.
Western North Carolina is far from unique. In the wake of disaster, generators are a staple of relief efforts around the globe. But across the region, a New Orleans-based nonprofit is working to displace as many of these fossil fuel burners as they can, swapping in batteries charged with solar panels instead.
It’s the largest response effort the Footprint Project has ever deployed in its short life, and organizers hope the impact will extend far into the future.
“If we can get this sustainable tech in fast, then when the real rebuild happens, there’s a whole new conversation that wouldn’t have happened if we were just doing the same thing that we did every time,” said Will Heegaard, operations director for the organization.
“Responders use what they know works, and our job is to get them stuff that works better than single-use fossil fuels do,” he said. “And then, they can start asking for that. It trickles up to a systems change.”
A ‘no-brainer’ solution to the problem of gas generators
The rationale for diesel and gas generators is simple: they’re widely available. They’re relatively easy to operate. Assuming fuel is available, they can run 24-7, keeping people warm, fed, and connected to their loved ones even when the electric grid is down. Indubitably, they save lives.
But they’re not without downsides. The burning of fossil fuels causes not just more just more carbon that exacerbates the climate crisis, but smog and soot-forming air pollutants that can trigger asthma attacks and other respiratory problems.
In Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria, generators were so prevalent after the electric grid failed that harmful air pollution in San Juan soared above the safe legal limit. The risk is especially acute for sensitive populations who turn to generators for powering vital equipment like oxygenators.
There are also practical challenges. Generators aren’t cheap, retailing at big box stores for more than $1,000. Once initial fuel supplies run out — as happened in parts of Western North Carolina in the immediate aftermath of Helene — it can be difficult and costly to find more. And the machines are noisy, potentially harming health and creating more stress for aid workers and the people they serve.
Heegaard witnessed these challenges firsthand in Guinea in 2016 when he was responding to an Ebola outbreak. A paramedic, his job was to train locals to collect blood samples and store them in generator-powered refrigerators that would be motorcycled to the city of Conakry for testing. He had a grant to give cash reimbursements to the lab techs for the fuel.
“This is so hard already, and the idea of doing a cash reimbursement in a super poor rural country for gas generators seems really hard,” Heegaard recalled thinking. “I had heard of solar refrigerators. I asked the local logistician in Conakry, ‘Are these things even possible?’”
The next day, the logistician said they were. They could be installed within a month. “It was just a no-brainer,” said Heegaard. “The only reason we hadn’t done it is the grant wasn’t written that way.”
‘Game changing for a response’
Two years later, the Footprint Project was born of that experience. With just seven full-time staff, the group cycles in workers in the wake of disaster, partnering up with local solar companies, nonprofits and others, to gather supplies and distribute as many as they can.
They deploy solar-powered charging stations, water filtration systems, and other so-called climate tech to communities who need it most — starting with those without power, water, or a generator at all, and extending to those looking to offset their fossil fuel combustion.
The group has now built nearly 50 such solar-powered microgrids in the region, from Lake Junaluska to Linville Falls, more than it has ever supplied in the wake of disaster. The recipients range from volunteer fire stations to trailer parks to an art collective in West Asheville.
Mike Talyad, a photographer who last year launched the collective to support artists of color, teamed up with the Grassroots Aid Partnership, a national nonprofit, to fill in relief gaps in the wake of Helene. “The whole city was trying to figure it out,” he said.
Solar panels from Footprint that initially powered a water filter have now largely displaced the generators for the team’s food trucks, which last week were providing 1,000 meals a day. “When we did the switchover,” Talyad said, “it was a time when gas was still questionable.”
Last week, the team at Footprint also provided six solar panels, a Tesla battery, and charging station to displace a noisy generator at a retirement community in South Asheville.
The device was powering a system that sucked water from a pond, filtered it, and rendered it potable. Picking up their jugs of drinking water, a steady flow of residents oohed and aahed as the solar panels were installed, and sighed in relief when the din of the generator abated.
“Most responders are not playing with solar microgrids because they’re better for the environment,” said Heegaard. “They’re playing with it because if they can turn their generator off for 12 hours a day, that means literally half the fuel savings. Some of them are spending tens of thousands of dollars a month on diesel or gas. That is game changing for a response.”
‘Showing up for their neighbors’
Footprint’s robust relief effort and the variety of its beneficiaries is owed in part to the scale of Helene’s destruction, with more than 1 million in North Carolina alone who initially lost power.
“It’s really hard to put into words what’s happening out there right now,” said Matt Abele, the executive director of the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association, who visited in the early days after the storm. “It is just the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever seen — whole mobile home parks that are just completely gone.”
But the breadth of the response is also owed to Footprint’s approach to aid, which is rooted in connections to grassroots groups, government organizations, and the local solar industry. All have partnered together for the relief effort.
“We’ve been incredibly overwhelmed by the positive response that we’ve seen from the clean energy community,” Abele said, “both from an equipment donation standpoint and a financial resources standpoint.”
Some four hours east of the devastation in Western North Carolina, Greentech Renewables Raleigh has been soliciting and storing solar panels and other goods. It’s also raising money for products that are harder to get for free — like PV wire and batteries. Then it trucks the supplies west.
“We’ve got bodies, we’ve got trucks, we’ve got relationships,” said Shasten Jolley, the manager at the company, which warehouses and sells supplies to a variety of installers. “So, we try to utilize all those things to help out.”
The cargo is delivered to Mars Hill, a tiny college town about 20 miles north of Asheville that was virtually untouched by Helene. Through a local regional government organization, Frank Johnson, the owner of a robotics company, volunteered his 110,000-square-foot facility for storage.
Johnson is just one example of how people in the region have leapt to help each other, said Abele, who’s based in Raleigh.
“You can tell when you’re out there,” he said, “that so many people in the community are coping by showing up for their neighbors.”
‘Available for the next response’
To be sure, Footprint’s operations aren’t seamless at every turn. For instance, most of the donated solar panels designated for the South Asheville retirement community didn’t work, a fact the installers learned once they’d made the 40-minute drive in the morning and tried to connect them to the system. They returned later that afternoon with functioning units, but then faced the challenge of what to do with the broken ones.
“This is solar aid waste,” Heegaard said. “The last site we did yesterday had the same problem. Now we have to figure out how to recycle them.”
It’s also not uncommon for the microgrids to stop working, Heegaard said, because of understandable operator errors, like running them all night to provide heat.
But above all, the problem for Footprint is scale. A tiny organization among behemoth relief groups, they simply don’t have the bandwidth for a larger response. When Milton followed immediately on the heels of Helene, Heegaard’s group made the difficult choice to hunker down in North Carolina.
With climate-fueled weather disasters poised to increase, the organization hopes to entice the biggest, most well-resourced players in disaster relief to start regularly using solar microgrids in their efforts.
As power is slowly restored across the region, with just over 5,000 remaining without electricity, there’s also the question of what comes next.
While there’s a parallel conversation underway among advocates and policymakers about making microgrids and distributed solar a more permanent feature of the grid, Footprint also hopes to inspire some of that change from the ground up. Maybe the volunteer fire station decides to put solar panels on its roof when it rebuilds, for instance.
“We can change the conversation around resilience and recovery by directly pointing to something that worked when the lights were out and debris was in the street,” Heegaard said.
As for the actual Footprint equipment, the dream is to create “lending libraries” in places like Asheville, to be cycled in and out of community events and disaster relief.
“The solar trailer or the microgrid or the water maker that went to the Burnsville elementary school right after the storm – that can be recycled and used to power the music stage or the movie in the park,” Heegaard said. “Then that equipment is here, it’s being utilized, and it’s available for the next response, whether it’s in Knoxville or Atlanta or South Carolina.”
In the dusty light of a decades-old lunch counter in Lewisville, Arkansas, Chantell Dunbar-Jones expressed optimism at what the lithium boom coming to this stretch of the state will mean for her hometown. She sees jobs, economic development, and a measure of prosperity returning to a region that needs them. After waving to a gaggle of children crossing the street in honey-colored afternoon sunshine, the city council member assessed the future as best she could. “Not to say that everything’s perfect, but I feel like the positives way outweigh the negative,” she said.
Lewisville sits in the southwest corner of the state, squarely atop the Smackover Formation, a limestone aquifer that stretches from northeast Texas to the Gulf Coast of Florida and has for 100 years spurted oil and natural gas. The petroleum industry boomed here in the 1920s and peaked again in the 1960s before declining to a steady trickle over the decades that followed. But the Smackover has more to give. The brine and bromine pooled 10,000 feet below the surface contains lithium, a critical component in the batteries needed to move beyond fossil fuels.
Exxon Mobil is among at least four companies lining up to draw it from the earth. It opened a test site not far from Lewisville late last year and plans to extract enough of the metal to produce 100,000 electric vehicle batteries by 2026 and 1 million by 2030. Another company, Standard Lithium, believes its leases may hold 1.8 million metric tons of the material and will spend $1.3 billion building a processing facility to handle it all. All of this has Gov. Sarah Huckabee Sanders predicting that her state will become the nation’s leading lithium producer.
With so much money to be made, Dunbar-Jones and other public officials find themselves being courted by extraction company executives eager to tell them what all of this could mean for the people and places they lead. They have been hosting town meetings, promising to build lasting, mutually beneficial relationships with the communities and residents of the area. So far, Dunbar-Jones and many others are optimistic. They see a looming renaissance, even as other community members acknowledge the mixed legacies of those who earn their money pulling resources from the ground. Such companies provide livelihoods, but only as long as there is something to extract, and they often leave pollution in their wake.
The companies eyeing the riches buried beneath the pine forests and bayous promise plenty of jobs and opportunities, and paint themselves as responsible stewards of the environment. But drawing brine to the surface is a water-intensive process, and similar operations in Nevada aren’t expected to create more than a few hundred permanent jobs. It’s high-paying work, but often requires advanced degrees many in this region don’t possess. Looking beyond the employment question, some local residents are wary of the companies looking to lease their land for lithium. It brings to mind memories of the unscrupulous and shady dealings common during the oil boom of a century ago.
For residents of Lewisville, which is majority Black, such concerns are set against a broader history of bigotry and the fact that even as other towns prospered, they have long been the last to benefit from promises of the sort being made these days. Folks throughout the area are quick to note that the wealth that flowed from the oil fields their parents and grandparents worked benefited some more than others, even as they lived with the ecological devastation that industry left behind.
Dunbar-Jones is confident that, if nothing else, concern about their reputation and a need to ensure cordial relations with community leaders will sway lithium companies into supporting local needs. “All I can say is right now it’s up in the air as to what they will do,” she said, “but it seems promising.”
Lewisville sits just west of Magnolia, El Dorado, and Camden, three cities that outline the “golden triangle” region that prospered after the discovery of oil in 1920. In an area long dependent upon timber, the plantation economy transformed almost instantly as tenant farmers, itinerant prospectors, and small landholders became rich. Within five years, 3,483 wells dotted the land, and Arkansas was producing 73 million barrels annually.
Although the boom created great wealth, Lewisville remained largely rural, and its residents labored in the fields that made others rich. Still, the oil economy, coupled with the timber industry, brought a rush of saloons, itinerant workers, and hotels to many towns. Restaurants, supermarkets, and other trappings of a middle-class community soon followed, though Lewisville always lagged a bit behind.
That prosperity lasted a bit longer than the oil did. The first wells ran dry by the end of the 1920s, but the Smackover continued producing 20 to 30 million barrels annually until 1967, when it began a steady decline. These days, it offers about 4.4 million a year.
The shops that once served Lewisville and the furniture and feed factories that employed those who didn’t work the fields have long since gone. Jana Crank, who has lived here for 58 years, came of age in the 1960s and remembers prosperous times. She runs a community gallery in what’s left of downtown, where most buildings sport faded paint and cracked windows. “It used to be a TV fix-it shop,” Crank, a retired high school art teacher, said of the space.
As she spoke, a group of friends painted quietly. Canvases showing sunsets, crosses, and landscapes lined the walls. The scenes, bright and cheerful, stood in contrast to Lewisville, where retailers have moved on, the hospital has closed, and the schools have been consolidated to save money. Fewer than 900 people live here, about half as many as during the town’s peak in the 1970s. They tend to be older, with a median household income of around $30,000. “People are just dying out, their children don’t even live in town,” Crank said. “They have nothing to come back for.”
That could change. Jobs associated with mining rare-earth minerals are highly compensated and highly sought-after, many of them netting as much as $92,000 per year. State Commerce Secretary Hugh McDonald believes the state could provide 15% of the world’s lithium needs, and Sanders has said Arkansas is “moving at breakneck speed to become the lithium capital of America.”
A few steps in that direction already have been taken around Lewisville, the county seat of Lafayette County. It is home to 13 lithium test wells, the most in the region. They’re tucked away behind pine trees, fields of cattle, and, occasionally, homes. The dirt and gravel roads leading to them have been churned to slurry by heavy equipment.
Those who own and work the wells arrived quietly last year, their presence indicated by the increasing number of trucks with plates from nearby Texas and Louisiana, sparking rumors throughout the region. They officially announced themselves to Mayor Ethan Dunbar last fall, in visits to local officials, mostly county leaders, to initiate friendly relations and establish the basis for economic partnerships. Mayor Dunbar and the Lewisville City Council were invited to a public meeting where lithium company executives discussed their plans and took questions.
The town’s motto is “Building Community Pride,” something Dunbar-Jones, who is the mayor’s sister, takes seriously. She and others have hosted movie nights, community dinners, and, in a particular point of pride, clinics to help people convicted of crimes get their records expunged. Meanwhile, the city council, joined by a number of residents, has come together to nail down just what the lithium boom will mean for the town and to ensure everyone knows what’s in store.
That’s particularly important, Dunbar-Jones said, because 60% of the town’s residents are Black. “Typically in minority neighborhoods, people are not as aware of what’s going on, because the information just doesn’t trickle down to them the way it does to other people,” she said. “At the meetings with the actual lithium companies, there may be a handful of people of color there versus others. So that lets you know who’s getting that information.”
A representative of Exxon, the only company that responded to a request for comment, said it has strived to build ties with communities throughout the region. “We connect early and often with elected officials, community members and local leaders to have meaningful conversations, provide transparency, and find ways to give back,” the representative said. It has opened a community liaison office in Magnolia and has worked with the city’s Chamber of Commerce to sponsor community events. It also established a $100,000 endowment for Columbia and Lafayette counties to provide grants for “education, public safety, and quality-of-life initiatives.”
Folks in Lewisville would like to see more of that kind of attention. In March, the city, working with the University of Arkansas Hope-Texarkana, hosted a town hall meeting so residents could speak to lithium executives and express concerns. The mayor recalls it drawing a standing room-only crowd that expressed hope that the industry would bring jobs and revenue to town, but also worried about the environmental impact. Folks called on Exxon and other companies to support new housing and establish pathways for young people to work in the industry.
Venesha Sasser, who at 29 is the chief development officer of the local telephone company, sees the coming boom providing an opportunity to build generational wealth for families and resources, like broadband internet access, for communities. Any company that can invest $4 billion in a lithium operation can surely afford to toss a little back, Sasser said. “We want to make sure that whoever is investing in our community, and who we are investing in, actually means our people good.”
Sasser followed a trajectory common among young Black professionals from the area: She left to pursue an education, then returned to care for loved ones. As she got more involved in the community, she often found herself being treated a little differently, an experience Mayor Dunbar delicately described as bumping up against “old systems.” Lewisville is a majority-Black town in a majority-White county, and as of 2022, had a poverty rate of 23%. Although community leaders say they work well with colleagues in other towns and with county leaders, they also feel that they’ve had to elbow their way into conversations with lithium companies. They worry that the dynamics of the oil days, when Black men worked alongside whites but often in lower-paying, less desirable jobs and most of the money stayed in wealthier cities like El Dorado, will repeat themselves.
“You had people from Magnolia and El Dorado and Spring Hill and other places coming in and doing the work and reaping the benefits, and then when it was gone, they were gone,” said Virginia Henry, a retired school teacher who grew up in Lewisville and lives in Little Rock. Her ex-husband drilled for oil years ago, and the experience left her with a sour taste in her mouth. “I’m thinking it’s going to be pretty much the same,” she said. “They’re going to ease in, they want to do all this work and create all these jobs for somebody and then ease out when it’s done in a few years. Then here we’ll be with soil that can’t grow anything, contaminated water, and a whole bunch of kids with asthma.”
Mayor Dunbar, who is midway through his second term, is trying to balance reservations with optimism. “‘Imagine the possibilities.’ That’s my tagline,” he said, settling into a chair at City Hall. A blackboard behind him outlined his priorities: housing, recreation, education. He hopes support from companies like Tetra Technologies, which is developing a 6,138-acre project not far away, will finance those goals and give people a future that’s more stable than the past, one in which Lewisville’s children can pursue the same opportunities that kids in nearby, better-resourced communities can.
“Think about Albemarle in Magnolia,” he said, referring to the bromine plant about 30 miles up the road. “Get a job at Albemarle, you stay there 25 years, you earn a decent salary, you’d have a decent retirement. You can live well. Quality of life is good. We are hoping to see the same thing here.”
Many of the people poised to benefit from the lithium beneath their feet seem ambivalent about climate change. In El Dorado, in a bar called The Mink Eye, an oil refinery worker grimaced at the mention of electric vehicles. The next morning, retired oil workers gathered at Johnny B’s Grill scoffed at the idea of a boom. A waitress admitted that she’d bought stock in lithium companies, but said any faith that the industry will bring renewed prosperity does not necessarily mean folks are on board with the green transition. “These men drive diesels,” she said, pointing toward her customers. Still, she said, any jobs are good jobs.
That attitude pervades the state capitol in Little Rock, where politicians who don’t give much thought to why the energy transition is necessary cheer the state’s emerging role in it. The governor, who has cast doubt on human-caused climate change, has appeared at industry events like the Arkansas Lithium Innovation Summit to proclaim the state “bullish” on its reserves of the element. “We all knew that towns like El Dorado and Smackover were built by oil and gas,” Sanders told the audience. “But who knew that our quiet brine and bromine industry had the potential to change the world.”
Much of the world’s lithium is blasted out of rocks or drawn from brine left to evaporate in vast pools, leaving behind toxic residue. The companies descending on Arkansas plan to use a more sustainable method called direct lithium extraction, or DLE. It seems to be a bit more ecologically friendly and much less water-intensive than the massive pit mines or vast evaporation ponds often found in South America. It essentially pumps water into the aquifer, filters the lithium from the extracted brine, then returns it to the aquifer in what advocates call a largely closed system. Researchers from the University of California, Los Angeles, in a report prepared for the Nature Conservancy, said that “DLE appears to offer the lowest impacts of available extraction technologies.”
Still, the technology is relatively new. According to Yale Environment 360, Arkansas provides a suitable proving ground for the approach because it has abundant water, a large concentration of lithium, and an established network of wells, pipelines, and refineries. But there are concerns about the amount of water required and the waste material left behind, despite repeated assurances from lithium companies that the process is safe and sustainable.
Although DLE doesn’t require as much water as brine evaporation, in which that water is lost, “it is a freshwater consumption source,” Patrick Donnelly, of the Center for Biological Diversity, said in an interview with KUAF radio in Fayetteville, Arkansas. The waste generated by the process is another concern, he said, “in particular, a solid waste stream. It’s impossible for them to extract only the lithium.”
Locals are well aware of the impact brine can have on the land. Before anyone realized its value, oil and gas producers didn’t worry much about it leaking or spilling onto the ground, literally salting the earth. Some are concerned that the pipelines that will carry brine to refineries might leak, as they did in the oil days. Such fears are compounded by the fact the state Department of Environmental Quality relies on individuals to report problems and doesn’t appear to do much outreach to residents.
There’s also a lot of skepticism about how many jobs the boom may create. So far, Standard Lithium’s plant in El Dorado employs 91 people, said Douglas Zollner, who works with the Arkansas branch of the Nature Conservancy and has toured the facility. No one’s offered any projections on how many people might find work in the budding industry, but a lithium boom in Nevada suggests it may not be all that many. Construction of the Thacker Pass mine, which could produce 80,000 metric tons of lithium annually, is expected to generate 1,500 temporary construction and other jobs — but it will only employ 300 once operational.
Those jobs pay well, but typically require advanced training. Public universities like Arkansas Tech University are revising science and engineering curricula to meet the lithium industry’s needs, hoping to connect students with internships in the field. However, locals worry that disinvestment in schools in rural and largely Black communities will leave those who most need these jobs unable to attain the training necessary to land them.
Just how much money might flow into local communities remains another open question. Fossil fuel companies lease the land they drill and pay landowners royalties of 16.67% of their profit. Any oil pumped from the land also is taxed at 4 to 5% of its market value. This fee, called severance tax, is paid to the counties or towns from which the resource was extracted.
None of these things apply to lithium. So far, there is no severance tax on the metal, though the state levies a tax of $2.75 for every 1,000 barrels of the brine from which it is extracted. The state Oil and Gas Commission continues haggling over a royalty rate, though it seems unlikely the fee will be as high as those paid on oil and gas leases. When the state sought a double-digit royalty, the industry balked, arguing that extracting and processing lithium is expensive and officials ought to wait until production begins in earnest before deciding what’s fair.
Companies cannot extract and sell the metal for commercial use until the commission sets a royalty rate, a process expected to drag on for some time. On July 26, the major players in the Arkansas lithium industry filed a joint application seeking a rate of 1.82%. The South Arkansas Mineral Association — which represents the majority of landowners, which is to say, timber companies, oil companies, and other corporate interests — demanded a higher share.
Small landowners still hope to benefit, and the lack of clarity around royalties hasn’t done much to engender trust among locals wary of the companies looking to lease their land. Some folks, already offered terms, are using online forums to determine if they’re being stiffed. Others fear efforts to wrest land from the few Black families who own property, often passed between generations informally without a deed or title. Such land, called heirs’ property, accounts for more than one-third of Black-owned property in the South, and without the documentation required to prove ownership, land can be subject to court-ordered sales.
Many in Lewisville say they regularly receive calls and texts from people interested in buying land, and Henry has seen people checking out properties and attending auctions. During a visit to the Lafayette County courthouse archives, I noticed a woman thumbing through mineral rights records. Although she wouldn’t identify herself, she politely explained that she was checking such documents throughout Arkansas, Texas, and Louisiana, bringing to mind the speculators who, during the oil boom, did the same before approaching naive residents who may not know about the riches under their land.
Beyond the timber companies with holdings in the region, most of the major landowners are white and wealthy, and any spoils, Henry suspects, will simply pass from one affluent family or powerful company to another, with no benefit to people like her. “What land, honey?” she said with a small, sardonic laugh. “That’s a pie in the sky type dream to me.”
Despite the concerns, the hype and fanfare surrounding the possibility of an economic revival remains high. City officials in Lewisville, and the people they lead, are trying to remain open-minded and easygoing even if unanswered questions linger about how many jobs might be coming, how the boom will benefit their town, and what it will mean for the environment.
“You know, it’s kind of frustrating because the questions get asked at these meetings,” Dunbar, the mayor, said. But he feels the lithium companies often meet questions with the same pleasant, if unhelpful, answer of “We can’t talk about it.” They’re always so careful in their responses. “They deliberately did not say anything until they knew what they wanted to do and say, that’s the same with what they want to provide communities,” Dunbar said.
As for the $100,000 commitment from Exxon, no one’s sure exactly who will receive that money or how allocations will be made. The mayor, discussing that point, showed some frustration. He said he has tried, and will continue to try, to get the companies to put their promises of jobs and support for local infrastructure in writing.
The balance of goodwill that he is trying to maintain between everyone involved is delicate: the lithium companies, whose jobs and support his community desperately needs; the county officials he must work with; the residents of Lewisville; and the mayors he collaborates with on grant applications. These towns are small, and word spreads quickly; relationships are as precious as the riches deep below the ground.
As Dunbar-Jones, the city council member, finished her turkey sandwich in the late afternoon light of the diner, she spoke of her faith in the ties between the people of Lewisville. “It’s hard to get a group of people to work together, period, especially when they don’t know each other,” she said. “But we all know each other.”
Despite her confidence, she knows she’s dealing with relationships in which companies take what they can and leave, where the question of what they owe the communities that enrich them is naive. Her father benefited from his job at Phillips 66, but it couldn’t last forever. When the oil was gone, those who profited from it were, too. From their perspective, she said, it’s a question of “How long am I going to support a community I’m no longer in? It would be unrealistic to think that there will be some long-term benefits from it.” The same is true of lithium, and the companies that will mine it. At some point, they will leave, and take their jobs and their money with them. Dunbar-Jones only hopes they leave Lewisville a little better off once they’ve left.
Editor’s note: Climeworks is an advertiser with Grist. Advertisers have no role in Grist’s editorial decisions.
This article originally appeared in Grist, a nonprofit, independent media organization dedicated to telling stories of climate solutions and a just future. Learn more at Grist.org
Even as North Carolina continues to weaken its building energy conservation codes, a new federal rule is poised to spur the construction of thousands of energy-efficient starter homes in the state each year.
Adopted earlier this spring, the measure requires homes with certain federally-backed mortgages to meet the latest guidance for insulation thickness, window quality, and other energy-saving features — a major improvement over the state’s 2009-era floor for new residential construction.
The rule is expected to impact more than 1 in 10 new home sales in North Carolina, mostly by lower-income and first-time homebuyers. Government studies show they will pay more for improved efficiency but reap immediate cash-flow benefits from lower monthly utility bills.
“The requirements are essential for protecting low-income homebuyers and renters,” said Lowell Ungar, federal policy director of the American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy, “lowering their energy bills, giving them more comfortable and healthier homes, and protecting them in the climate transition.”
The impact extends beyond North Carolina and will lift standards in several states where lawmakers and industry lobbyists have pushed back against energy-saving building code updates.
Ungar and his colleagues are also working to extend the requirements to the independent regulator of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. If they succeed, a large majority of new homes in North Carolina could be built to modern energy-savings standards — even though a 2023 state law prevents any major code updates until the next decade.
Rob Howard, who builds sustainable homes in the state’s foothills, fought against the law and now serves on the state’s Building Code Council.
“It’s the first feeling of hope that I’ve had for North Carolina since last year,” he said.
Homebuilders block local improvements
Reducing energy waste in buildings is a critical component of the clean energy transition. The most cost-effective way to do so is at the point of construction, especially in rapidly-growing North Carolina, where some 90,000 new homes are built each year, about two-thirds of them single-family units.
Yet the powerful home construction lobby has long resisted stronger requirements for energy-saving features in residential construction, influencing the state legislature, where it is a major campaign donor, and until recently, the state’s Building Code Council, a citizen commission.
Thus, while model codes are updated every three years, North Carolina’s rules remain outdated. Though the council was poised last year to bring the code in line with 2021 guidelines, lawmakers backed by developers intervened to circumvent the update, overriding a veto from Gov. Roy Cooper, a Democrat.
This year, the Republican-led legislature relaxed insulation requirements and made other changes to the building code that many experts, including the state fire marshals’ association, argued would make homes less safe. Again, Cooper vetoed the measure, and in a vote last week, lawmakers overrode him.
“The General Assembly has let the homebuilding industry make a quick buck at the expense of North Carolina families who will pay more every month in home energy costs,” Drew Ball, Southeast campaigns director at Natural Resources Defense Council, said in a statement after the vote. “This law rolls back North Carolina’s energy building codes and passes the costs on to consumers.”
‘Let’s set the bar as high as possible’
But state building codes aren’t the only policies that can influence home construction.
The federal government plays a huge role in promoting homeownership by guaranteeing loans for borrowers who can only make a small down payment or may otherwise risk default.
In 2007, a sweeping energy law adopted under the George W. Bush administration required any new home purchased with backing from the Department of Housing and Urban Development or the Department of Agriculture to meet the latest model code for energy efficiency.
It wasn’t until 2015 that the Obama administration tied the loans to the 2009 model energy efficiency code. The Trump administration took no action.
The Biden-Harris administration picked up the torch last year, beginning an examination to make sure the latest model codes would bring more benefits than costs. In May of this year, officials concluded that the 2021 standards wouldn’t negatively affect the affordability and availability of housing.
“As a result of the updated energy standards, energy efficiency improvements of 37% will cut energy costs by more than $950 per year, saving homeowners tens of thousands of dollars over the lifetime of the home,” a press release from the Department of Housing and Urban Development said.
Similarly, last year an independent government lab found that the more stringent standards will add about $5,000 to the cost of the average North Carolina home, but generate a positive monthly cash flow instantly in the form of lower utility bills.
About 1 in 10 new single-family home loans per year are backed by the Department of Housing and Urban Development or the Department of Agriculture, according to the federal officials.
The Department of Veterans Affairs must update its lending rules to match those of HUD and USDA, impacting another 3% to 5% of newly built homes, Ungar estimates.
Howard, who’s building a small collection of super-efficient homes in Granite Falls, says just one of the 11 cottages so far is being financed with a loan that would be affected by the new rule.
“As a small builder who’s focused on attainable housing, I’m going to assume that a certain percentage of my buyers will qualify for the USDA loan programs,” he said. “And so of course, I want them to have the ability to participate in those. But I’ve already made the decision to build to zero-energy ready, which is currently based on the 2021 [model code]. I’m already there.”
The bigger impact of the new rule will be on large, multi-state, multi-regional builders who focus on starter homes, Howard said. “Those kinds of builders don’t want two different levels that they’re building to. They would rather have one that simplifies their entire construction process.”
With the new rule, then, builders can either adhere to the latest energy efficiency standards so that potential buyers can qualify for federal backing on their loans — or not.
“Let’s set the bar as high as possible,” said Howard, “and then builders get to choose.”
If multi-state builders choose to build all of their homes to the 2021 model code, the rule’s impact could extend beyond the roughly 15% of new stock estimated by government officials and advocates.
‘A much broader impact’
If advocates succeed in getting the Federal Housing Finance Agency, the regulator of Fannie and Freddie, to adopt the same standards, the effect would be even greater: the two companies ultimately end up buying over half of mortgages in the country.
“Now you’re talking about 70% of the loans in this country,” Howard said. “So that’s obviously a much broader impact.”
As they have in North Carolina, the national builder lobby claims the energy efficiency standards will add tens of thousands of dollars to construction costs. They oppose the rule that’s already finalized for the Departments of Agriculture, Housing and Urban Development, and Veterans Affairs, and they object to extending the requirements to Fannie and Freddie.
“If Fannie and Freddie were forced to comply with the 2021… mandate,” Missouri builder Shawn Woods told Congress this spring, “this would become a de facto national standard and be a massive blow to housing affordability.”
Unless Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump wins this November, the finalized rule is safe for now, advocates believe. As for the broader requirements on Fannie and Freddie, the director of the Federal Housing Finance Agency said it would study the matter and issue a decision by the end of June.
A three-judge panel in North Carolina upheld Duke Energy’s reduced payments to rooftop solar owners on Tuesday, unanimously rejecting claims from climate justice advocates that the smaller credits run afoul of state law.
The ruling upholds for now a scheme that took effect last October after Duke, some of the state’s oldest solar installers, and multiple clean energy groups reached a complicated truce to avoid the bruising battles over net metering seen in other states.
NC WARN, Environmental Working Group, and others opposed to the compromise argued that regulators adopted it without conducting their own analysis of the costs and benefits of net metering, a requirement of a 2017 statute. Such studies typically show that rooftop solar offers net benefits to the grid, contrary to utility claims.
The appellants rested their argument in part on a statement from one of the 2017 law’s authors, John Szoka, a Fayetteville Republican who served in the state House of Representatives for a decade. An Energy News Network article quoted in the appeal describes Szoka as “adamant” that the Utilities Commission, not Duke, should conduct the study.
The appeals court panel agreed, based on the plain text of the law.
“The commission erred in concluding that it was not required to perform an investigation of the costs and benefits of customer-sited generation,” Judge Hunter Murphy, a Republican, wrote.
But in a disappointing twist for the challengers, he continued, “however, the record reveals that the commission de facto performed such an investigation when it opened an investigation docket in response to [Duke’s] proposed revised net energy metering rates; permitted all interested parties to intervene; and accepted, compiled, and reviewed over 1,000 pages of evidence.”
Joined by two Democrats, Judges John Arrowood and Toby Hampson, Murphy’s opinion also rejected arguments that the commission erred by failing to consider all of the benefits of rooftop solar and by forcing solar owners to migrate to time-variable rates instead of allowing flat rates to stand.
“The commission properly considered the evidence before it and made appropriate findings of fact and conclusions of law,” Murphy wrote.
Many solar installers saw a dip in sales and interest in the last quarter of 2023 when the lower net metering credits took effect. But they were also hopeful about a new Duke program that rolled out this spring, which offers solar customers incentives to pair their arrays with home batteries.
Jim Warren, NC WARN executive director and an outspoken Duke critic, said in a press release that he and his allies would weigh an appeal to the state’s Supreme Court.
“This ruling directly harms our once-growing solar power industry and the communities constantly battered by climate change driven by polluters like Duke Energy,” he said.
Correction: David Porter, vice president of electrification and sustainable energy strategy at EPRI, spoke generally about the challenges and opportunities of constructing data centers and coordinating with utilities. He did not speak specifically about the Southwest Virginia project.
Will Payne and Will Clear are all too aware of the skeptics.
But those doubters only fuel the duo’s vision for Southwest Virginia. The former Virginia state energy office bureaucrats turned private-sector consultants have an ambitious plan to repurpose land and backfill local taxes in communities left behind by the coal industry’s decline, and also pioneer new models for powering data centers with local clean energy.
Data Center Ridge is one piece of a nonprofit venture — Energy DELTA Lab — designed to transform 65,000 mostly contiguous acres of minelands where coal was king for decades into test sites that advance energy innovation. The project has the backing of Republican Gov. Glenn Youngkin, who announced an agreement last November establishing a framework for developing the land.
“If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked why we’re wasting our time on this, I wouldn’t have to work,” Clear, a former chief deputy director with the state Department of Energy. “This isn’t a pipedream. What people need to understand is how long a project like this takes.”
The first phase involves persuading tech companies to build solar-powered data centers on up to 2,000 acres of the now-defunct Bullitt Mine in Wise County. The facilities would be able to tap into underground mine water to help cool their servers. Eventually, they say, other energy sources such as wind turbines, pumped hydro storage, or small nuclear reactors could be added across the larger property.
“This is a big idea and we need someone who can share that vision,” said Payne, managing partner of Coalfield Strategies LLC. “We need developers who believe in ramped-up clean energy.”
Glenn Davis, director of the Virginia Department of Energy, said a couple of key factors are driving the state’s interest in the lab. Many data center companies are exclusively seeking sites where they can access 100% clean energy, and new clean power generation could cushion the grid impact from the state’s booming data center sector.
“Southwest Virginia was the energy capital of the East Coast and I believe it will be again,” Davis said in an interview. “There’s a power void that needs to be filled and solar is part of that.”
Dovetails with Youngkin energy plan
DELTA, shorthand for Discovery, Education, Learning & Technology Accelerator Lab, is just one enterprise Davis is tracking as he coordinates Youngkin’s all-of-the-above Energy Plan.
Last fall, Youngkin said the intent is to attract private and public dollars to flesh out a portfolio that also draws wind, hydrogen, large-scale batteries, pumped-storage hydropower and eventually, perhaps, small modular nuclear reactors when and if that nascent technology matures. Any carbon-cutting realized by lab energy projects wouldn’t count toward Virginia’s landmark Clean Economy Act because the faraway area is served by a Lexington-based power company, Kentucky Utilities. The VCEA requires only the state’s largest investor-owned generators — Dominion Energy and Appalachian Power — to achieve a carbon-free grid by 2045 and 2050, respectively.
That doesn’t bother Youngkin, Davis said.
“What’s driving the governor’s interest is jobs, businesses and an improved quality of life,” said Davis, appointed as an agency head in April 2023. “We’re excited because the opportunity for growth there is larger than any other in the state.”
Dallas-based Energy Transfer owns the acreage, roughly 101 square miles. The lab is coordinating site development with Wise County officials and the landowner. Some of the acreage is still being mined for metallurgical coal, the type used for steelmaking and other industries. However, much of the property, including inactive Bullitt Mine, is being reclaimed.
On paper, the dozen or so projects on the drawing board, including Data Center Ridge, could generate 1,600-plus jobs, add 1 GW of new power and induce $8.25 billion in private investments, Payne said. First, however, they have to move beyond the conversation stage.
Payne and Clear, DELTA’s chief advisers, are counting on their matchmaking skills to revive a region often depicted as down on its heels.
Clear grew up in Smyth County, east of Wise County. Payne recently moved to Washington County on the Virginia-Tennessee border. The Richmond native left a position as chief deputy at the state energy department in 2019 to direct InvestSWVA, an incubator invented to diversify the region’s economy and curb carbon emissions. Appalachian Grains was one of their previous energy-related joint ventures.
Tax revenues from data centers are the boost local governments need to fill the coal gap, they say.
“Plain and simple, public safety, education, health care, municipal services and other core government sources are at risk of falling off a cliff if we do nothing,” said Clear. “We’re trying to solve this crisis.”
Is SW Virginia the next ‘tertiary market’?
Josh Levi, president of the Loudoun County-based Data Center Coalition, said Southwest Virginia shouldn’t be dismissed as too inaccessible or mountainous for data center development.
Recently, the burgeoning industry began expanding into off-the-beaten path “tertiary markets,” he said. For instance, he pointed to a deal Amazon Web Service announced this year to spend $10 billion on two data center complexes in Mississippi.
It was only a few years ago that the industry reached into secondary markets such as Columbus, Ohio, and San Antonio, Texas, after initially concentrating its investments primarily in Silicon Valley, New York-New Jersey, Dallas, Chicago, Northern Virginia, Atlanta and Phoenix.
In Virginia alone, there’s a southward shift as more data centers pop up around Fredericksburg and Richmond.
“What they’re doing is credible,” Levi said about Payne and Clear. “My understanding is that they have seen levels of interest from data center developers. Whether the opportunities they’re leveraging lines up with the business needs of data centers remains an open question.”
For instance, he said, Southwest Virginia might be the right fit for backing up federal data but less so for applications such as live-streaming video or trading stocks.
Loudoun County and surrounding Northern Virginia are home to almost 300 data centers, the biggest concentration of such campuses in the world. It’s the crossroads for roughly 70% of global internet traffic.
Prolific construction of the mega-buildings that make cloud computing possible — combined with the accompanying need for transmission lines for electricity and water for cooling — have caused an uproar among community activists alarmed about their impact on local infrastructure and the environment.
Such large-scale growth prompted a tongue-in-cheek comment from Democratic state Sen. Danica Roem about exporting data centers from Prince William, the county she represents, to Tazewell County, just east of the proposed Data Center Ridge.
In an interview with the Energy News Network, Roem said she would only support siting data centers in Southwest Virginia if the projects have widespread community buy-in, are powered with renewable energy and are built on reclaimed coal mines that don’t require clearcutting of forests, which serve as carbon dioxide sinks. Utility customers shouldn’t be saddled with paying for the expensive buildout of transmission infrastructure, she added.
“I don’t want to simply shift the problems we’re having here to Southwest Virginia and create problems for the residents there,” Roem said. “If they’re building data centers there, are they going to stop digging in my district?”
Roem has joined other legislators introducing bills aimed at reining in data center growth and controlling the resources the buildings require. For instance, compared to a typical office building, the U.S. Energy Department estimates one data center needs 50 times more electricity.
‘A lot of potential hurdles’
David Porter, vice president of electrification and sustainable energy strategy for the Palo Alto, Calif.-based Electric Power Research Institute, said there are numerous challenges and opportunities when it comes to coordinating data centers’ power needs with utilities.
“These data centers could be a really neat idea if they can work around a lot of potential hurdles,” Porter said. High on his checklist of potential limiting factors are access to a reliable electric grid connection, battery storage to fill gaps and “major league” fiber optic cable for communications.
He emphasized that even a modest number of data centers can’t rely on renewable energy 24/7. Backup power, typically provided by diesel-powered generators, is needed to keep the centers operating when the wind isn’t blowing and the sun isn’t shining.
As well, he said, even larger data centers in the gigawatt range generate far fewer jobs than a manufacturing center.
Payne and Clear said they are far from naïve about the difficulty of solving grid and broadband issues, which they know will take years, not months, to remedy, and that the jobs will be impactful in a region where the average annual income is $42,000.
“In Southwest Virginia, we’ve seen plenty of manufacturers pick up and leave, and that wouldn’t be the case with wind turbines and data centers.”
Their models show that one 36 MW data center, considered to be a mid-size project, would generate about 50 jobs paying $134,300 a year. In an ideal scenario, the size of Data Center Ridge would eventually expand more than 25-fold to 1,000 MW.
DELTA Lab recently collaborated with a local industrial facilities authority to offer a financial incentive for data center developers, Clear noted. It translates to Wise, Lee, Scott and Dickenson counties and the city of Norton offering a tax rate on data center equipment of 24 cents per $100 of assessed value. By far, it’s the lowest such rate in the state.
“The more persuasive argument for data centers here is about sustainability for local governments and their citizens,” Clear said. “This creates a new trajectory for tax collections for the next 50 years.”
Water source easy, electricity not so much
The sites they’re eyeing for data centers are atop an estimated 6 billion to 10 billion gallons of underground 55-degree mine water, which offers a less-costly method for cooling the hot air generated by hundreds of servers.
It’s not an aquifer. Over the years, rainwater has been filtered by the limestone and sandstone as it trickled through fissures and cracks and landed in cavities created as coal deposits were removed. The pools of water are as deep as 1,000 feet below the surface.
Four years before ushering in DELTA Lab, Payne and Clear had procured a state grant to study the water supply. Since then, they have been collaborating with engineers to devise a closed-loop water system that could chill the centers and eventually pump the water back underground to be reused after the Earth removes the heat it absorbed.
Drilling of test wells by a geotechnical company is scheduled to begin this fall. That exploration is funded by the federal government and managed by the U.S. Department of Energy.
In the meantime, a looming challenge is securing the flow of electricity to and from Data Center Ridge. Even if on-site solar arrays with backup battery storage are the initial power source, the project needs to have sufficient substations, transmission lines and other infrastructure to tie into the grid. That way, excess electricity can be shipped out and “imported” electrons can fill any deficits.
Payne and Clear are talking with Kentucky Utilities — which does business in Wise and four other Virginia counties as Old Dominion Power — about upgrading and adding infrastructure. That analysis is part of a larger effort spearheaded by county officials to meet long-term energy demand in Southwest Virginia.
One plus, Clear said, is that siting the buildout of substations and transmission lines will be less difficult on property with one landowner. However, he also knows investor-owned utilities often aren’t keen on asking ratepayers to fund infrastructure built to serve one distant customer.
Davis said his agency would likely pursue federal Energy Department money to construct transmission infrastructure.
Data Center Ridge has the potential to boost the utility’s renewable energy portfolio, which is 1% of a generation energy mix that is heavy on coal, 84%, and natural gas, 15%.
Although every component of their blueprint presents a separate set of obstacles, the entrepreneurs say outsiders’ perception of Appalachia is the chief hindrance.
“Even after making our case since 2019, dispelling myths about the region is our first challenge in getting developers down here,” Payne said. “They think everybody is on meth and lives in shanties.”
They persist to prove their doubters wrong.
“Everything is teed up here to be executed,” Clear said. “It’s getting that first domino to drop that’s really important.”
An array of critics came out swinging in January when Duke Energy first filed its plans in North Carolina for one of the largest fossil fuel investments in the country.
But as the months have dragged on in the development of the company’s biennial carbon-reduction plan, some notable detractors have relented.
Just before expert witness testimony was set to begin in Raleigh late last month, the state-sanctioned ratepayer advocate, Public Staff, and Walmart endorsed a settlement with Duke on its blueprint, which includes building 9 gigawatts of new natural gas plants that the utility says could be converted to run on hydrogen in the future.
A few days later, the Carolinas Clean Energy Business Association, a consortium of solar and wind developers, announced it had signed on too.
The agreement, which contains some small concessions from the utility, led to low-key hearings that ended in less than two weeks. It makes it more likely that Duke will get what it wants from regulators by year’s end, including a greenlight, if not final approval, for three large new natural gas plants in the near term.
Chris Carmody, executive director of the Carolinas Clean Energy Business Association, says the proposed compromise also helps lock in forward progress on solar energy and batteries, however incremental.
“It’s a more aggressive solar spend. It’s a more aggressive storage spend,” he said. “Certainly, we would like to see more. But first of all, we like to see it going in the right direction.”
Clean energy advocates believe Duke’s push for new gas plants will harm the climate, since the plants’ associated releases of planet-warming methane will cancel out any benefits of reduced carbon pollution from smokestacks. At the same time, they say the investments could become useless by midcentury or sooner, before their book life is over, saddling ratepayers with costs that bring no benefits.
“There’s not much in it for their customers except unnecessary risk, cost, and more pollution,” Will Scott, southeast climate and clean energy director for the Environmental Defense Fund, wrote in a blog last month.
But Duke’s gas bubble has proved hard to burst. For one, the company’s predictions of massive future demand from new data centers are based in part on confidential business dealings that are challenging to rebut from the outside.
Unlike two years ago, when Duke proposed its first carbon reduction plan, no groups produced an independent model showing how Duke could meet demand without building new gas.
“We can talk about costs, or market conditions,” said Carmody. But, he said, “we did not do any modeling.”
Public Staff ran its own numbers and has urged more caution on new gas plants than Duke proposes. But the agency is unwavering that at least some are needed.
New Biden administration rules haven’t yet proved the death knell for gas that some expected. Duke is suing to overturn the rule, but it insists that building new plants that will run at half capacity is the most economical plan for compliance.
And even as Duke is proffering more gas, it’s also undeniably proposing more solar.
Clean energy backers still object to annual constraints on solar development the utility says are necessary. But the limits have increased from less than 1,000 megawatts per year in 2022 to over 1,300 megawatts. And the settlement would result in another 240 megawatts of solar than Duke had first proposed.
“It’s an iterative improvement,” said Carmody.
What’s more, the settlement opens a discussion with Duke about the scores of 5-megawatt solar projects across the state whose initial contracts will soon expire. A proposal for how to refit them could come in April of next year.
“This is a really important issue to our members,” said Carmody. “These are projects that could be repowered. They could be upgraded with storage. They could have significantly more efficient solar technology than was on them 15 or 20 years ago.”
Still, Carmody said his group tried to word the settlement in a way that left room for clean energy advocates to continue to advocate for less gas and steeper emissions cuts sooner — and that’s certainly their plan.
“Three power plants that will be really expensive to build and then operate for only a few years is just a ridiculous proposal,” the settlement notwithstanding, said Maggie Shober, research director for the Southern Alliance for Clean Energy.
“We remain hopeful that there’s a lot that the [commission] can do in this carbon plan proceeding and in their final order, to move us forward on a clean energy trajectory.”
Nick Jimenez, senior attorney for the Southern Environmental Law Center, acknowledges the settlement stacks the deck somewhat against his clients.
“Historically, the commission approves a lot of settlements,” he said. “It likes to see parties settle, especially when Duke and the Public Staff are involved.”
DALTON, Ga. — Growing up in Cartersville, Georgia, Lisa Nash saw what happens to communities when factory jobs disappear. It was the 1980s and corporations were offshoring production to reduce costs and raise profits. The jobs that remained in this northwest corner of the state were typically lower-paying ones that didn’t offer the same ladder to the middle class.
“My parents and grandparents were in manufacturing, and they were the ones saying, ‘Don’t do it,’” Nash recalled.
Nash disregarded their advice, embarking instead on a long career in manufacturing — first in textiles, followed by stints in aviation, automotive, and steel. Now she’s helping to bring higher-tech, higher-paying factory work back to the corridor between Atlanta and Chattanooga.
Nash is the general manager of the Qcells solar panel factory in Dalton, a town of 34,000 located 50 miles up I-75 from her hometown. It opened in January 2019, after the Trump administration imposed a fresh round of tariffs on Chinese-made panels. The Korean conglomerate Hanwha owns Qcells, and initially planned to hire several hundred people at the site, Nash told me on a recent visit to the factory. By the end of 2019, it employed more than 800.
Then, in 2020, Georgia helped elect President Joe Biden and sent two Democrats to the Senate, clinching a thin majority. Senators Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock got to work crafting detailed policies to promote domestic manufacturing of clean energy technologies, which China had dominated for years; they wanted solar panels and batteries made in America — specifically Georgia — instead of in China, a geopolitical rival.
Those measures made it into the Inflation Reduction Act, which passed in August 2022 — two years ago this week. The legislation created the nation’s first comprehensive policies to support domestic clean energy manufacturing. Qcells broke ground on a second facility in Dalton in February 2023. Completed that August, the expansion added two football fields’ worth of manufacturing space with four new production lines — which produce 1.5 times more solar panels than the original three lines, thanks to technological advances. Now the whole complex employs 2,000 people full time and makes 5.1 gigawatts of solar panels a year, more than any other site in the U.S.
Politicians have been promising for decades to retrain American workers and revive long-lost manufacturing, with little to show for it. Now, though, the U.S. has entered a new era on trade: Leaders of both parties have rejected the long-standing free-trade consensus and its penchant for offshoring jobs. Biden married that reshoring impulse with a desire to boost clean energy production, to both stimulate the economy and fight climate change.
This grand experiment remains in its infancy, and the success of the clean energy manufacturing revolution is by no means guaranteed. Cheap imports could outcompete even newly subsidized American products.
And if Republicans win the presidency and retake Congress, they’ve threatened to stop subsidizing low-carbon energy resources and instead double down on fossil fuel production. House Republicans — including Dalton’s representative, Marjorie Taylor Greene — have voted repeatedly and unsuccessfully to repeal the domestic manufacturing incentives in the IRA. (Greene’s press office did not respond to multiple requests for comment.)
“Donald Trump and his Republican allies promised to gut the Inflation Reduction Act if he’s reelected, so there’s a lot at stake here,” Representative Nikema Williams, who leads the Georgia Democrats, told me.
Since the IRA passed, Georgia has received $23 billion in clean energy factory investment, much of it flowing to northwest Georgia. I wanted to see what impact this is having on communities formerly hit hard by industrial decline, so I followed the money trail to Dalton earlier this summer.
I found a population that seems to like having advanced solar manufacturing in their backyard. Dalton’s solar jobs are boosting wages, invigorating the historic town center, and employing local high school graduates. Those benefits are starting to spread to nearby communities, where new solar factories are springing to life. In November, voters will weigh two very different visions of America’s energy future on the ballot, but Dalton is already reaping the rewards from slotting solar into its storied history of industrial production.
From carpets to solar
Both CSX and Norfolk Southern run Class I rail lines through Dalton, a testament to its industrial legacy, and freight trains bellow day and night.
That legacy harks back to 1900, according to local historians, when Catherine Evans Whitener sold a hand-tufted bedspread from her front porch for $2.50. The cottage industry took off in this land of forested ridges and stream-crossed valleys, and over time, local factories consolidated into global carpeting giants Shaw Industries and Mohawk Industries.
“The carpet industry was born here,” Carl Campbell, executive director of economic development at the Greater Dalton Chamber of Commerce, told me when I visited the Chamber. The New Georgia Encyclopedia states that 80 percent of America’s tufted carpet production happens within 100 miles of Dalton.
The conference room where we spoke sported large-format aerial photographs of the major factories nearby: the largest Shaw site, 650,000 square feet; and the new Engineered Floors colossus, 2.8 million square feet.
“You feel like there’s enough carpet in that building to cover the whole world,” said Campbell, who grew up in Dalton.
Dalton employment numbers peaked at 80,200 in 2006, per the Chattanooga Times Free Press. But the Great Recession crushed the homebuilding industry, cratering demand for Dalton’s carpeting products.
Dalton “was a ghost town in 2011, nothing going on because everybody was hurting,” Campbell added. From June 2011 to June 2012, Dalton notched the dubious distinction of most jobs lost of all 372 metro areas surveyed by the Bureau of Labor Statistics. By that point, one-quarter of Dalton’s pre-recession jobs had vanished, and unemployment surged to 12.3 percent.
Since then, the industry has recovered somewhat. Engineered Floors, Mohawk, and Shaw still dominate local employment, with some 14,000 jobs among them, Campbell said. Those companies have had to adapt to evolving consumer tastes, shifting from wall-to-wall carpets to hardwood and other flooring materials. They’ve also automated aspects of production, reducing the number of workers needed.
In the wake of the Great Recession, local leaders sought to diversify Dalton’s industry. The county acquired an undeveloped lot south of town, and Campbell later pushed to clear and level the site, so it was shovel-ready for some future tenant. When Trump’s solar tariffs kicked in, Campbell’s counterparts at Georgia’s Department of Economic Development sent Qcells his way.
Qcells showed up in February 2018, looking to spin up its first American solar-panel factory in less than a year. “Suddenly, we had exactly what they needed,” Campbell said.
Thus Dalton managed to bring in new industry to balance out its base of carpets and flooring. Qcells originally promised to invest $130 million and hire 525 people within five years, Campbell said.
“They did it in three months,” he added. “In terms of an economic development project, they check all the boxes: Everything they said they would do, they did it faster than they said they would do it.”
Domestic solar manufacturing, by humans and robots
When I asked folks around town what they thought of Qcells, they kept mentioning the dozens of air-conditioning units arrayed on the factory roof, like a field of doghouses, easily visible from I-75. I later learned that Qcells brought in helicopters to install those units, which made for a bit of small-town spectacle. Still, it struck me as a surprising detail to dwell on for a business that somehow turns the sun’s rays into cheap, emissions-free electricity.
Once I crossed Qcells’ sizzling parking lot and stepped indoors, it started to make sense. Georgia gets hot, and carpet factories get hot, but the vast floors of the twin solar factories are quite literally cool places to work.
The climate control is not unique to assembling solar panels, but it is required for the sensitive, precisely calibrated product. The air conditioners are but one sign that high-tech manufacturing has arrived, and that it makes for pretty comfortable work.
I met my two tour guides, Wayne Lock and Alan Rodriguez, in the factory lobby, and they quickly confirmed the physical appeal of Qcells jobs. Lock, now a quality engineer at Qcells, previously worked in carpet manufacturing; he had to wear special heat-resistant gear to handle carpeting materials that would otherwise deliver third-degree burns. Rodriguez, an engineering supervisor at Qcells, used to apply the coating material underneath carpets.
“You’re sandwiched between the steamer and the oven, so it gets quite hot,” Rodriguez told me. Attending to those machines exposed him to temperatures that could exceed 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
Even more than Qcells’ air conditioning, though, people I spoke to kept bringing up the pay.
By offering more for zero-skill, entry-level positions than the other factories in town, Qcells started attracting workers and pushed up wages across Dalton, Campbell said: “Competition brings everybody, so everybody’s had to kind of equalize to keep employees.”
Now Qcells hourly wages for non-experienced hires start at $17.50 to $22 — that amounts to $36,400 to $45,760 a year for full-time work. Workers with experience in robotics and manufacturing can take home much more than that. Employees can raise their pay through a variety of on-the-job training, most of which involves handling and troubleshooting the in-house fleet of robots.
Lock, Rodriguez, and I walked into the newest factory, past meeting rooms with names like Naboo and Mandalore, Star Wars locales where quirky robots coexist with all manner of creatures. As we strolled across the floor, squat wheeled autonomous vehicles rolled past us down pathways marked by tape on the smooth floor, ferrying bales of materials or hauling out hulking boxes of finished panels.
“We try to stay out of their way, and if we don’t, they yell at us,” said Lock. “It’s fun.”
As we stood talking, I noticed that one such robo-buggy was waiting for us to move. Barely discernible over the background drone of machines, a female voice intoned, “Robot is moving. Please look out.” When humans hold up more time-sensitive deliveries, Lock explained, the voice switches to male and gets louder.
Other robots remain fixed in place, carrying out repetitive precision tasks. I stared, mesmerized, at one machine that split wafer-thin silicon cells in half, first scoring them with a laser, then slicing them with a concentrated jet of water. A taller machine grabbed nearly 8-foot metal frames and sliced them through the air like a master swordsman in a Kurosawa film, to slot them around glassed-in silicon panels.
Throughout the process, cameras scan cells and use artificial intelligence to shunt defective items off the line for manual correction.
In the 2019-era factory next door, humans carry out many of these tasks. Lock, though, didn’t see the robots as competitors — he said they were taking on more physically demanding jobs so the humans could step into higher-skilled roles tending to robots.
“The ergonomics are better for you,” he said, and the new lines are more productive.
Hiring local, spending local
When Qcells was first staffing up, it relied on Quick Start, a Georgia state program that funds worker training for new factories before they open — a major draw for executives deciding where to locate their factories.
Qcells still recruits to meet ongoing staffing needs, and it has been paying special attention to high schoolers who are graduating and looking for employment. Nash speaks passionately about Qcells’ recruitment efforts; she’s seen the civic fallout from decades when local families encouraged kids to avoid manufacturing.
“Small communities cannot thrive with kids graduating and leaving those communities to live elsewhere, to get high-paying technical jobs,” Nash said. “That’s what’s happening across the country. Bringing manufacturing back, and bringing highly automated manufacturing, is offering job opportunities where now these students are staying here.”
Some 56 percent of Dalton-area students enroll in postsecondary education within 16 months of graduating high school, said Stephani Womack, director of education and workforce development for the Greater Dalton Chamber of Commerce. For the remainder, the chamber wants to make sure family-supporting jobs are available.
For two weeks in June, Womack helped run Project Purpose, a crash course in how to start and navigate careers that pay living wages. Recent high school graduates prepped for interviews, shopped for professional clothes, and toured housing options and downtown hotspots — the kinds of places they could frequent once they join the workforce.
But the centerpiece of the program amounted to professional speed dating, as Dalton’s major employers offered tours and entry-level jobs. Last year, Dalton’s first time running Project Purpose, seven young adults completed the program, and Qcells hired one of them. This time, 18 finished, and Qcells hired 12 of them to start on July 1.
“Next year, we hope to double that, or more,” Nash said.
Several participants came in knowing about Qcells, betting that the intensive crash course would increase their odds of landing good roles there, Womack told me over a table at Garmony House, a downtown coffee shop that draws lines for its statuesque strawberry cupcakes and coffee-glazed cinnamon rolls.
“Qcells is providing a diverse set of options for our students who need to go to work but want to stay in our community,” Womack said. “They see a climate-controlled facility with entry-level opportunities — that’s exciting for them. … Manufacturing isn’t what it used to be.”
For younger people to stay in town and build a life, Dalton needs more housing, and now it’s getting its first large apartment complex in over two decades, Campbell said. In total, 900 apartment units are slated to come online from last August through this November — not enough to catch up on a long-running housing deficit, but a step in the right direction.
That renewed real estate activity is reflected in downtown Dalton’s bustling core.
Locals pack the booths at the Oakwood Cafe, perhaps the only place in America that sells a platter of egg, sausage, toast, and grits for just $3.65. Multiple microbreweries beckon, as does a plush cocktail bar, the Gallant Goat, which stocks fresh mint by the fistful to garnish its drinks. Down the road, diners can sample ceviche of shrimp shipped in from coastal Mexico, succulent chicken wings, and high-end Southern cuisine.
This spring, the plush Carpentry Hotel opened across from the Oakwood Cafe, decked out with vibrant textile art to commemorate the town’s carpeting heritage.
“That’s been big for us, getting that hotel in downtown. That’s indicative of a robust local economy that people are coming to participate in,” local real estate agent Beau Patton told me as the late afternoon sun streamed into the Gallant Goat. Patton works with Qcells employees who want to buy homes in the area. He sees the factory’s decision to locate there as “very mutually beneficial” for Qcells and Whitfield County: “What you hope is Whitfield County grows with it, and it grows with Whitfield County.”
From Dalton to towns across Georgia
Dalton got in early on the national clean-energy factory revival, and has already seen its solar factory push up wages, enable high school graduates to stay and start careers, and inject money into a reinvigorated downtown. Many more communities in Georgia are following close behind with their own cleantech factories, seeking a similar economic jolt.
“There is a palpable and intense sense of excitement across the state about how these manufacturing and infrastructure policies are supercharging Georgia’s economic development,” said Senator Jon Ossoff, the Georgia Democrat who authored the IRA manufacturing incentives that Qcells is tapping into. “And I would add, it’s not just the primary industrial facilities; it’s all of the secondary and tertiary suppliers and vendors and service companies and the financial services firms needed to support them.”
Qcells is building an even bigger factory compound down in Cartersville, which won a conditional $1.45 billion loan guarantee from the Department of Energy on August 8. This facility will take advantage of Inflation Reduction Act tax credits to onshore more steps of the solar supply chain: slicing silicon wafers, carving them into solar cells, and assembling finished modules with even newer robots than the ones I saw in Dalton. Until now, those high-value precursors to solar panels were shipped in from overseas. Workers in Dalton complete just the last step: assembling modules. Cartersville promises to bring the dream of American-made solar a bit closer to reality.
To achieve that dream, the industry has a few other challenges to confront. For one, 97 percent of the glass that encloses solar panels comes from China. Besides the geopolitical implications of that dependence, glass is so fragile and heavy that its shipping costs make domestic production enticing both economically and environmentally.
“We need domestic glass to have an efficient supply chain,” said Suvi Sharma, founder and CEO of solar recycling startup Solarcycle. His company is breaking ground on a combination solar-panel recycling facility and solar-glass factory in Cedartown, some 70 miles southwest of Dalton. Sharma expects to invest $344 million in the community and hire 600 full-time employees.
Compared with Dalton and Cartersville, “Cedartown is more off the beaten path — this would be the first large-scale factory going up there,” said Sharma. After years in which the population declined and young people looked elsewhere for jobs, “this enables them to keep people and bring in more people. There’s a cascading impact.”
Solarcycle will use its rail spur to ship in low-iron silica from a mine in Georgia, plus soda ash and limestone. Over time, it will supplement those raw ingredients with increasing amounts of glass the company will pull from decommissioned solar panels, including those made by Qcells. The goal is to produce enough glass for 5 gigawatts of panels per year; Solarcycle will ship the glass to nearby customers. At that point, workers in northwest Georgia will have a hand in all the major steps of solar-module production except the processing of raw polysilicon. Hanwha recently became the largest shareholder in REC Silicon to secure access to domestic polysilicon from the Pacific Northwest.
Georgia also nabbed a hefty chunk of the electric-vehicle factory buildout catalyzed by IRA incentives. Hyundai is dropping nearly $1 billion on its “Metaplant” near the deepwater port of Savannah and building an adjacent $4.3 billion battery plant with LG. Kia erected a new EV9 SUV manufacturing line at its plant in West Point, about halfway down Georgia’s border with Alabama. The first EV9 rolled off the line in June — less than two years after the IRA was signed into law.
Dalton, then, is a leading indicator of the industrial invigoration that clean energy factories are bringing to cities and towns across Georgia. People broadly appreciate it — if not for the role in combating climate change or countering China’s industrial might, then for high starting wages, comfortable working conditions, and opportunities for advancement.
But for this nascent factory boom to endure, the policies that triggered it need to stay in effect. The people of Georgia played a decisive role in spurring this manufacturing revival; this November, they’ll have an outsize role in deciding if it continues.
North Carolina regulators have approved a controversial green tariff proposal from Duke Energy, rejecting protests from critics who argue it won’t bolster the company’s transition to zero-carbon electricity.
Originally designed as a way for large electric customers to chip in extra for renewable energy projects Duke is already mandated to build, an amended tariff offered in April could allow some customers to speed up construction of new solar farms by about two years.
The revision appeared to help sway the Utilities Commission. The change, the panel said in its Jul. 31 order, is an “improvement” because the change “adds additional accelerated capacity” of renewable energy.
The revised tariff, called Green Source Advantage Choice, has backing from the Carolina Industrial Group for Fair Utility Rates, an association of some of Duke’s largest customers. The utility says it plans to formalize the program soon in the wake of the regulators’ order.
“The [commission] didn’t give us a deadline but asked that we do so when reasonably feasible,” spokesperson Logan Stewart said over email, “so it will be in the coming weeks. In conjunction, we will be working on updating the Green Source Advantage public webpage to include the new program details.”
A question of ‘regulatory surplus’
For large customers with 100% clean energy commitments, a green tariff is a necessity in North Carolina, where Duke has a monopoly and cities, data centers and the like can’t buy clean energy directly from solar farms.
In theory, a green tariff allows a company such as Google or Amazon to spur a new supply of clean energy equal to their electric demand, with Duke acting as an administrative go-between. An earlier iteration of Green Source Advantage more or less did just that.
But the accounting got more complicated in 2021, when a bipartisan state law required Duke to cut its carbon pollution at least 95% by 2050. If the company is legally required to build scores of solar farms anyway, can a large customer legitimately claim its sponsorship of one project makes a difference?
This question of “regulatory surplus” sparked a flurry of arguments and counter-arguments before the commission for some 18 months. Duke initially claimed such “additionality” was neither feasible nor necessary, and some businesses said chipping in to support the clean energy transition was good enough for them. More than a dozen local chambers of commerce and potential customers wrote regulators in support of the original program.
But Google, the U.S. Department of Defense, and other large customers joined clean energy advocates to flag the problem of regulatory surplus, as did the Center for Resource Solutions, the nonprofit that certifies voluntary renewable energy purchase programs. Duke University, which has no connection to the utility, said it wouldn’t participate in the tariff.
‘A small step in the right direction’
The debate, along with prodding from commissioners, prompted Duke to add a “resource acceleration option” to its proposal. The alternative allows large customers to advance about 150 megawatts of solar energy each year by sponsoring projects not selected in the company’s annual competitive bidding process. Every two years, Duke gets retroactive credit for this “extra” solar as part of its compliance with the 2021 law.
Clean energy advocates believe the new option is a “small step in the right direction.” But they note it accounts for 1 gigawatt of clean energy over ten years, a fifth of the entire program. Customers who lay claim to the remaining 4 gigawatts would not be impacting the state’s transition to clean electricity, they say.
“If you’re the customer of a business who claims to support our state’s clean energy transition by participating in the program, you’re going to expect that business to be making a difference – not just subsidizing what Duke was going to do anyway,” said Nick Jimenez, senior attorney at the Southern Environmental Law Center.
The Carolinas Clean Energy Business Alliance, a group of clean energy suppliers, also criticized the acceleration option. And though the Carolina Utility Customers Association, another group of large industrial customers, didn’t oppose the amended proposed tariff, it registered skepticism.
“[Our] members have little interest in the Resource Acceleration Option,” the group said in a letter to regulators, “which would deliver electricity at a premium cost without providing the benefit of regulatory surplus-based environmental attributes that would be useful in meeting corporate environmental, social, and governance goals.”
Cause for hope?
While advocates see little good in the commission’s approval of the Green Source Advantage Choice program, they still have some faint cause for hope.
One is the so-called Clean Transition Tariff, which Duke could propose later this year. An outgrowth of a May agreement between the utility and Amazon, Google, Microsoft, and Nucor, that program could allow participating customers to spur new projects, such as solar-battery storage combos or small nuclear energy, that provide carbon-free electricity around the clock.
“This is not within the order,” said Jimenez, but the May memorandum of understanding, “is the big opportunity for something better.”
Duke says the Clean Transition Tariff would be another voluntary option for customers, not a replacement for the one just greenlighted. “We see the approval of Green Source Advantage Choice as a first step,” the company’s Stewart said, “enabling us to move forward with new tariffs like the Clean Transition Tariff.”
Maggie Shober, research director at the Southern Alliance for Clean Energy, agrees the memorandum of understanding is cause for some optimism. But she also notes that it’s only “an agreement to talk about something. It could be an opportunity,” she said, “or it could be a missed opportunity. “
And no matter what, the Clean Transition Tariff won’t cater to municipalities and other midsize customers with climate commitments. If these customers decline to pursue Green Source Advantage Choice, their only option is to wait for Duke to adjust.
Commissioner Jeff Hughes pointed to that possibility in a concurring opinion.
“Once the program offerings are launched, it will quickly become clear whether the program is as attractive as Duke asserts,” Hughes wrote. “If concerns continue and interest is modest from the outset, it is my hope that Duke will work quickly on new programs that will have a greater impact.”
Before pivotal hearings that begin Monday, Duke Energy has made a few small concessions to its plans for a giant fossil fuel buildout in North Carolina, winning over the once-skeptical state-sanctioned ratepayer advocate.
Duke’s proposed settlement with Public Staff and Walmart needs approval from the state’s Utilities Commission to take effect. It comes as dozens of experts plan to appear before the panel to debate the company’s biennial carbon plan, including its controversial bid to invest in 9 new gigawatts of natural gas plants and punt on a key state climate deadline.
The agreement still shows Duke determined to construct five large combined-cycle gas plants in the coming decade, but only three would get a preliminary blessing for now. Public Staff earlier had wanted only one such plant to be considered “reasonable for planning purposes.”
While state law requires Duke to cut its carbon emissions 70% by 2030, in line with scientists’ recommendations for avoiding catastrophic global warming, the agreement stipulates that a pollution cut of that magnitude by decade’s end is “unachievable and presents unacceptable risks to the reliability of the grid.”
Duke also agrees to study the $250 billion Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment Program it had earlier eschewed, though the settlement’s wording seems to reject what experts say is the program’s best use: financing up to 80% of new clean energy projects and remaining debt on retiring coal units with government loans.
Apart from a few other changes around the edges, the settlement is aligned with the plan Duke filed in January. And while the deal means the utility and Public Staff won’t spend time debating each other next week in Raleigh, clean energy groups and other intervenors still have plenty to litigate.
‘A risk of stranded investments?’
Perhaps most notable, critics say the January blueprint, combined with Duke’s spirited defense of it in hundreds of pages of testimony filed July 1, runs headlong into a new federal rule on coal and gas plants finalized in April.
In effect, the rule forces any new large gas plants to run no more than 40% of the time beginning in 2032. Public Staff, the office of the Attorney General and clean energy groups had urged Duke to reconsider its plan in light of the new regulation, perhaps by replacing some or all of the planned gas with renewables or rolling out new initiatives to reduce electric demand.
Duke is suing to try to overturn the new rule, which is now final. But the company avowed that if the regulation remains, its only option was still to build five new, combined-cycle turbines, even if they only ran at half their potential capacity.
Having placed manual constraints on renewables and battery storage in its computer forecasting program, Duke said in its testimony, “the model is not able to shift this ‘lost’ gas generation to renewable resources.”
Instead, the company asserted it would have to generate more power from its existing gas and coal plants, causing 4 more million tons of carbon pollution in the year 2035, a “likely delay” in 70% pollution cuts to 2036 or later, “and an increase in the total system cost of more than $600 million.”
In its July 1 filing, Duke also brushed aside doubt from Public Staff and clean energy groups that its new gas plants could ultimately run on emissions-free hydrogen fuel, which is not yet commercially viable and many experts say may never be practical.
“Several parties incorrectly assume that the addition of new gas resources will subject customers to the risk of stranded investments,” the company wrote in its testimony, “but fail to consider the critical value of these resources over the planning horizon and lack detailed analysis regarding how such a risk would actually materialize three decades from now.”
‘A desperate attempt’
The question of timing also still looms large. Though approval of the settlement would foreclose a 2030 compliance date, clean energy advocates still hold out hope that Duke will make deep pollution cuts consistent with climate science and not delay them until late in the next decade.
In fact, the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association and three groups represented by the Southern Environmental Law Center were so dismayed by Duke’s July 1 testimony that last week they moved for regulators to declare that they wouldn’t approve a plan that violated state or federal law, before the meat of next week’s expert witness hearings begin.
That provoked a blistering countermotion from Duke. The groups, said the utility, “were inexcusably dilatory in filing their motion, and their desperate attempt to introduce legal and procedural complexity into this proceeding at the 11th hour should be stricken.”
Duke Energy has been laying the groundwork for a new gas power plant in North Carolina’s Person County for years, touting it as the “next generation” of electricity production and lining up support from local politicians eager to hold on to the utility’s tax dollars.
With acknowledgement from regulators and even some clean energy experts that new gas infrastructure may be needed as Duke shutters its coal fleet, the long-planned gas turbines once seemed like an inevitability.
But now, the 1,360 megawatt combined-cycle facility poised to replace the company’s aging coal smokestacks on Hyco Lake has become a major point of contention. And while the odds still favor Duke, community members and advocates alike say they have cause for hope.
First, there’s the reality of new Biden administration rules on fossil fuel power plants. Beginning in 2032, any new large, combined-cycle plant like that proposed in Person County must either cut its carbon emissions drastically or run 40% of the time or less.
Because North Carolina’s geology isn’t suited to carbon sequestration and emissions-free hydrogen fuel isn’t yet viable, the company would have to limit the plant’s operations — either making it unavailable at key times or requiring costly startups and shutdowns, said Ridge Graham, the North Carolina program manager for Appalachian Voices.
“Either of these options make this combined cycle plant a bad investment and a much more expensive form of electricity generation than clean or renewable energy sources,” Graham told commissioners at a public hearing in Roxboro last month. “This is especially true for Duke customers as the purchase of gas fuel is passed on and has led to multiple rate increases through riders on electricity bills since 2017.”
Even if the actual fuel costs were cut in half, engineers for the agency said, “total transportation charges would mostly be unchanged within the ‘Fuel’ category because of the significant pipeline costs that would be necessary to provide natural gas service to the Roxboro site.”
In addition to these charges, ratepayers would also have to pay the full cost of the plant, amortized over 35 years, plus Duke’s regulator-approved profit margin, energy analyst Elizabeth Stanton said in written testimony on behalf of Sierra Club, Southern Alliance for Clean Energy, and the Natural Resources Defense Council.
What’s more, she noted, ratepayers would cover whatever “replacement resources” were needed to meet demand “after the facility’s expected generation was decreased.”
In contrast, Stanton says, Duke’s estimated costs for ratepayers assume the plant will run at over 40% capacity through 2042 — a scenario squarely at odds with the new Biden administration regulation.
“Duke needs to account for the rule in their planning, and they have not done that,” Mikaela Curry, a North Carolina-based campaign manager at the Sierra Club, said in an interview. “Who pays for a gas plant that can only run 40% of the time?”
While Public Staff supports the new plant, it also asserts in testimony that Duke hasn’t developed a plan for how it will comply with the new federal rule.
“We have concerns about the impact and implementation of the recently issued [Clean Air Act] Rule,” engineers Dustin Metz and Evan Lawrence wrote. “We cannot yet identify how [the] proposed Roxboro facility may be impacted and to what extent.”
‘That modeling … was flawed’
The agency also hasn’t seen a comprehensive analysis from Duke to justify the location for the combined cycle unit. “The Public Staff cannot say definitively that the proposed Roxboro… project is least cost for [Duke’s] ratepayers,” Metz and Lawrence said in their testimony.
Other critics also question whether the gas plant is Duke’s most economical option, though for different reasons.
In testimony for the environmental groups, Stanton asserts that Duke artificially limits renewables in its carbon-reduction models; assumes clean energy is 60% costlier than industry standards; and, in the plan that most quickly transitions the company away from fossil fuels, makes all resources 20% more expensive. Plus, new generation built before 2030 — which would be mostly solar — gets an 8% penalty.
“Duke’s rationale for requesting the [Hyco Lake plant… is the] selection of gas resources in its least-cost modeling,” Stanton wrote. “That modeling, however, was flawed, including multiple biases for gas resources and against renewable resources.”
Detractors also doubt the company’s plan to convert the gas plant to run on emissions-free hydrogen as late as 2049 – just in time to comply with state law. That “presumption,” said consultant Bill McAleb in testimony on behalf of the Environmental Defense Fund, “is not based on substantive evidence presented in this docket proceeding.”
Detailing an array of challenges, including uncertainty from equipment manufacturers, McAleb concludes a zero-carbon, hydrogen-fueled facility, “is not only speculative but unlikely.”
‘A very nuanced topic’
While advocates wage a legal campaign against the gas plant, activists are reaching out to the people of Person County face-to-face, knocking doors on the roads surrounding the existing coal facility.
Juhi Modi, North Carolina field coordinator for Appalachian Voices, says the canvassing effort so far has identified more opponents than not – surprisingly so.
“Given that it’s a very nuanced topic, and the fact that people appreciate Duke’s economic presence in the county,” Modi said, “it’s been really meaningful to just hear what they think.”
Referencing the yearslong campaign to get Duke to excavate its leaking coal ash pits, Modi added:
“These people were also impacted by coal ash contaminating their well water and were part of a long fight to get their water cleaned up, and still have a lot of skepticism about Duke’s ability to responsibly operate in this community.”
Along an existing pipeline right-of-way, the new pipeline Dominion Energy plans to transport gas to Duke and other customers has also given some in the community pause. Activists say it appears to pass dangerously close to Woodland Elementary School in Semora.
“What would happen if there is an accident? If there is a fire or an explosion?” Modi said. “It’s a real concern for the children, the teachers and the staff that work in the school.”
While cleaner than coal in terms of smog-and soot-forming air pollution, the gas plant’s emissions of methane — a potent greenhouse gas — will negate its climate benefits, said Katie Moore, an air quality researcher who lives in Roxboro.
“Not only do we not have enough time to use [gas] as a ‘bridge fuel,’” she said, but it doesn’t even make sense because the climate impacts are the same, essentially, as coal.”
Moore also believes there’s an incorrect assumption that either Duke replaces its Hyco Lake coal units with gas or the company leaves the county altogether.
“Those are not the only two options,” said Moore, who grew up in neighboring Durham County and moved to slower-paced Person 2.5 years ago. “I don’t want people to be out of jobs and I don’t want to lose 20% of the tax base. But that’s not an inevitability. I think there are lots of ways that we could embrace renewables in this county.”
Long odds remain
Still, at an in-person public hearing last month, Moore and other locals against the plant were outnumbered by supporters, who ranged from tourism boosters to local elected officials to the superintendent of Person County Schools, Rodney Peterson.
“A school district like ours could not recover from the loss of our local tax base,” said Peterson, who noted he was appearing in a personal capacity. “I ask you to remember our students, our parents, our teachers in Person County.”
Besides support from many community leaders, many other factors still weigh in Duke’s favor.
Notwithstanding its concerns about the plant’s cost and its compliance with the new Biden administration rules, Public Staff believes the energy it will provide will be vital as the company works to reduce its carbon pollution as required by law.
“There is a need for [combined cycle and combustion turbine] natural gas generation in [Duke’s] service territories,” the engineers wrote in their testimony. Denying the company a permit to build the plant, they asserted, “could delay interim carbon emissions reduction compliance and coal plant retirements set forth in the Carbon Plan Order.”
While solar combined with battery storage could in theory provide similar economic and energy benefits as the gas plant, Person County leaders would have to repeal a 2022 ordinance that effectively bans large-scale solar farms.
Meanwhile, Duke is eschewing an Inflation Reduction Act loan program meant to encourage clean energy investments in communities with retired coal plants.
And even though the commission is dominated by appointments from Gov. Roy Cooper, a Democrat who’s embraced the clean energy economy and criticized fossil fuels, the panel has so far exhibited little resistance to the utility’s gas expansion plans.
“It just makes me feel sad,” said Crystal Cavalier-Keck, the co-founder of the Indigenous activist group Seven Directions of Service, referencing how the panel approved Duke’s last carbon reduction plan with few edits. “It’s disheartening.”
A spokesperson for Duke declined to comment for this story, but the company’s formal responses to Public Staff and clean energy advocates intervening in the case are due later this month. An expert witness hearing is expected as soon as early August.
In the meantime, organizers like Cavalier-Keck say they’ll keep getting the word out. “We’re just going to continue to knock on all the doors,” she said, “and continue to educate people.”
Duke Energy’s plan to zero out its carbon pollution all but ignores a federal loan program that could save ratepayers hundreds of millions of dollars and enable more clean energy, the state’s ratepayer advocate said in recent filings.
And since the loans run out in September 2026, state Public Staff and clean energy advocates say time is running out for Duke to correct course.
“This is a singular bite at the apple that they’re going to get,” said Jeremy Fisher, principal adviser for climate and energy at the Sierra Club. “So, we’re not in a position to sit here and say, ‘hey Duke, in your next [long-term plan], you should model it.’ This is the moment.”
Public Staff called attention to the $250 billion federal Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment Program in its assessment of Duke’s proposed biennial carbon reduction plan, the first of which was approved by state regulators at the end of 2022, months after the surprise passage of the Inflation Reduction Act.
In accepting Duke’s plan that year, regulators noted: “it is appropriate for Duke to incorporate the impacts of the Inflation Reduction Act… and other future legislative changes… into its [Carbon Plan and long-range generation] proposal that it will file with the Commission on or before September 1, 2023.”
But Public Staff and other intervenors say the utility did not fully do so, at least when it comes to the Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment Program.
“The Public Staff has concerns regarding Duke’s failure to model the [loan] program,” wrote Jeff Thomas, an engineer with the agency. The program, he added later, “represents a significant opportunity for cost savings for ratepayers tied to the deployment of new clean energy resources.”
Bundling retirement refinancing with new clean energy
The loans are perhaps less well known than the Inflation Reduction Act’s tax incentives for everything from electric vehicles to solar panels to offshore wind turbines.
But they’re just as important, if not more so, especially in light of the North Carolina law that requires Duke to reduce its carbon emissions in a “least cost” manner.
Fisher said utilities can take advantage of the program to varying degrees, with proportionate savings for ratepayers.
In the “ideal use of this program,” Fisher said, utilities can refinance outstanding loans for their retiring coal plants and combine them with new clean energy investments, all for a low interest rate. Then there’s a “lesser version,” in which a utility doesn’t transfer its balance on old coal plants but does finance new clean energy projects through the federal government. Finally, he said, there’s “one more step down.” That’s where a company like Duke essentially switches to the government debt it would otherwise owe a bank.
In a recent paper, the clean energy think tank Rocky Mountain Institute explained why this last option is least desirable for ratepayers.
“If utilities do nothing more than use [Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment] loans to displace corporate debt,” researchers wrote, “overall ratepayer savings will be minimal, since most utilities can already borrow at reasonably attractive interest rates without the added complication and expense of participating in a government program.”
Michelle Boswell, director of Public Staff’s accounting division, relayed an example of a Missouri utility that could maximize the Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment program and save its customers over $900 million. “While these ratepayer benefits come at the expense of lower earnings for the utility,” Boswell noted, “they are consistent with the least-cost mandate contained in [state law].”
‘Take aggressive advantage?’
At a technical hearing last week before regulators, Thomas reiterated that position. “As the ratepayer advocate, cost is a major concern,” he said. “We believe there are ways to control costs. One proposal is that Duke should take aggressive advantage of the Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment loan program.”
Doing so could save ratepayers more than $400 million through 2032, Thomas said last week, and lead to increased renewable and storage deployment.
Testifying on behalf of Attorney General Josh Stein, expert witness Edward Burgess stressed the loan program could be utilized to cover transmission upgrades needed to connect more solar and storage to the grid.
“Reconductoring of transmission lines could allow for significantly greater renewable resource availability,” Burgess wrote. “This could be done much more cost-effectively with assistance from the Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment program.”
Indeed, advocates say the federal program doesn’t just promise to lower ratepayer costs for the clean energy Duke currently proposes. By changing the economic calculus, the loans could spur the company to invest in more storage and solar and retire its coal plants sooner.
Duke’s proposed 1,360-megawatt gas plant outside Roxboro in Person County is a case in point.
In theory, rather than replace coal smokestacks on Hyco Lake with gas-fired units, Duke could build battery storage and clean energy on the site instead.
That investment would qualify the utility for an additional 10% federal tax incentive, since it would be located within 30 miles of a retiring coal plant. Much of the outstanding debt on the old fossil fuel plant and the solar and battery investments could be leveraged into a low-interest loan through the federal government.
Testifying for several clean energy advocacy groups, expert witness Maria Roumpani said that Duke may not be taking full advantage of this additional 10% incentive, since it assumes that 60% of its new standalone batteries will be sited at retired coal sites.
“Although the approach seems reasonable,” Roumpani wrote, “it might lead to the analysis overlooking certain opportunities to replace coal capacity.”
The Energy Infrastructure Reinvestment Program and the 10% bonus credit for former coal plant communities could also work in concert with so-called securitization of Duke’s coal-fired power plants, in which the remaining book value of plants is paid off through bonds backed by ratepayers.
The same state law requiring Duke to zero out its carbon pollution also calls for only half of the book value of its least efficient coal plants to be securitized. Theoretically, advocates say, the remainder could be paid off through the federal loan program.
‘A once-in-a-decade opportunity’
Asked about Public Staff’s assertion that the utility didn’t account for the federal loan program in its latest proposal for phasing out carbon, spokesperson Bill Norton said Duke was still reviewing the filing.
He added, “we have already engaged with the Department of Energy and other utilities to learn more about the… program and see if it provides benefits to our customers. We will pursue all federal funding that we believe can reduce energy transition costs for our customers in a manner that protects reliability, supports our coal plant communities and accommodates North Carolina’s growing economy.”
Public Staff and others say time is of the essence. The loan program has a limited amount of funds, and records suggest other utilities have already applied for nearly half the total. That means Duke needs to begin applying for the loans as soon as possible, and, critics argue, should have already started.
“By failing to examine this option,” the attorney general said in its filing, “Duke may be missing out on a once-in-a-decade opportunity to save millions for its customers.”
Since 2021, when North Carolina adopted a law requiring Duke Energy to zero out its carbon pollution, advocates have spent every other year poring over the company’s plans for supplying this state of 11 million with clean electricity.
As of late last month, the first phase of the new ritual is now complete: citizens turned out by the hundreds to public hearings around the state and submitted written comments; and dozens of organizations, businesses, and large customers filed testimony to the state’s Utilities Commission, charged with approving or amending Duke’s plan by year’s end.
A review of these comments shows clear dissatisfaction with Duke’s plan, which critics say is too reliant on gas and unproven technologies and too dismissive of resources like solar and battery storage.
But there are also a few powerful institutions pulling in the opposite direction. And their voices could grow louder in the coming months, as the state enters the next phase of in-person, expert witness hearings.
The law requires Duke to cut its carbon pollution by 70% by 2030 and at least 95% by midcentury, in line with scientists’ recommendations for avoiding catastrophic global warming. The statute directs regulators on the Utilities Commission to develop a plan to make that happen and to update the blueprint every two years.
Even as the popular, bipartisan measure moved through the legislative process, some critics worried it gave too much deference to Duke and did not make clear that regulators — not the utility — would chart the state’s path to a decarbonized electricity sector.
Still, after Duke in 2022 issued its first Carbon Plan proposal — a document covering hundreds of pages and including four different pathways for achieving net zero — a host of outside stakeholders put forward their own plans for the commission to mull, hoping the panel would pick and choose from them or even craft its own blueprint.
But in the end, after months upon months of expert hearings, public input, and thousands of pages of written testimony, the commission adopted Duke’s plan with few edits.
Rather than devise their own painstaking models to compete with Duke and its army of lawyers, engineers, and other experts, this time most organizations are starting with the company’s portfolios and critiquing key elements.
‘Most reasonable, least cost, least risk plan’
As in the lead up to the first Carbon Plan, this year Duke has proposed multiple routes to zero carbon by midcentury, with one clear preference. Offered in January after predicting a steep rise in electricity demand, that pathway is to add over 22 gigawatts of renewable energy and battery storage in the next decade, including from ocean-based wind turbines.
In the same time frame, the company wants to shutter most of its coal plants and add nearly 9 gigawatts of new gas plants, nearly three times the immediate build-out it proffered two years ago and one of the largest such proposals in the country. It also envisions two small nuclear plants of 300 megawatts each, about a seventh the size of the state’s largest nuclear plant outside Charlotte.
The company seeks to exploit exceptions in the state’s law to achieve a 70% cut in carbon emissions by 2035 instead of 2030. And while its plans to zero out its pollution are vague, they rest partially on building more nuclear reactors by 2050 and fueling any remaining gas plants with hydrogen – a technology still under development.
Still, Duke’s focus is on the immediate term. In its January filing, it sought support for “pursuing near-term actions that align with [its preferred pathway] as the most reasonable, least cost, least risk plan to reliably transition the system and prudently plan for the needs of…customers at this time.”
‘Imperative that the 2030 target be met’
Numerous commenters questioned that assertion, including the company’s premise that ratcheting down emissions more slowly than the law prescribes presents a “lower execution risk.”
Perhaps most notably, the Clean Energy Buyers Association, a group of 400 major corporations from a range of sectors with their own sustainability targets, argued forcefully against delaying the 2030 target.
“The ability of [our] members that are Duke customers to meet their clean energy commitments depends in large part on how clean Duke’s resource mix is,” the association’s Kyle Davis said in written testimony. He went on to say regulators should “only” approve a near-term plan that would allow Duke to cut its pollution 70% by decade’s end.
Similarly, a group of local government Duke customers with climate goals, including major cities Raleigh and Greensboro and small college towns Boone and Davidson, noted that Duke’s energy mix would dictate whether they could meet their aims.
“Due to the urgency of the climate crisis and the implications to the health and well-being of the constituents we serve,” the cities and counties wrote, “it is imperative that the 2030 target be met in the timelines specified in [the law.]”
Testifying for the office of the Attorney General Josh Stein, expert witness Edward Burgess noted that the commission has not yet abandoned the 2030 deadline and that, according to the law, the 70% cut could only slip past 2032 under “very specific conditions” that have not been met.
Regulators haven’t authorized a nuclear or wind project that has been delayed beyond Duke’s control, he asserted, and a delay wasn’t necessary to maintain the “adequacy and reliability of the existing grid.”
Recognizing Duke’s latest increased demand projections, Burgess urged commissioners to “set a clear directive for Duke to achieve the Interim Target by no later than 2032.” Otherwise, said the witness for the attorney general, the public interest would be harmed by the “increase [in] the cumulative tons of CO2 emitted, which would remain in the atmosphere for hundreds to thousands of years.”
‘Arbitrary limits on battery and solar’
The process by which Duke maps its generation plans over the next decade is complex and time intensive. But it’s aided by a computer modeling program that weighs various factors including costs to produce an optimal generation mix.
This method produces more solar and battery storage each year than Duke thinks is possible or appropriate to connect to the grid, so the company imposes manual limits on the computer program. Critics call that step unnecessary and damaging to the project of curbing carbon emissions in a least-cost manner.
“Solar [photovoltaic] is the cheapest source of carbon-free electrons on the grid now and for the foreseeable future,” testified expert witness John Michael Hagerty on behalf of the Carolinas Clean Energy Business Association. “All things being equal, the more generation… that Duke can get from solar PV instead of other resources, the cheaper it will be for Duke to comply with carbon reduction targets.”
Michael Goggin, an expert witness for the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association and clean energy groups represented by the Southern Environmental Law Center, analyzed other grid operators around the country and estimated that Duke could connect around 4 gigawatts of solar and storage annually, compared to the upper limit of 2.8 gigawatts suggested by the utility.
“Duke’s arbitrary limits on solar and battery interconnection should be greatly increased if not eliminated,” Goggin wrote. “These limits do not reflect reality, and there are many potential solutions to the interconnection challenges Duke claims in its attempt to justify these limits.”
Pleading for more offshore wind
While numerous commenters were happy to see Duke move much more ambitiously toward offshore wind than it did two years ago, they noted the utility’s projected 2.4 gigawatts — enough to power about a million homes — fell significantly short of the near-term potential in ocean wind areas off the state’s coast.
“The Carolina Long Bay projects have the potential to reach more than 2 gigawatts, and the Kitty Hawk Projects have the potential to reach nearly 3.5 gigawatts,” two employees of wind company Avangrid testified. “Therefore, there is additional offshore wind resource beyond the Preferred Portfolio request available to North Carolina.”
The state’s Department of Commerce has taken a keen interest in offshore wind because of its vast potential for economic development. Jennifer Mundt, an assistant secretary at the Department, implored regulators and Duke to “set a path forward… that directs the deployment of at least 6.0 gigawatts of offshore wind by the mid-2030s.”
Such development is achievable with the Carolina Long Bay and Kitty Hawk areas, she said, and “will unlock billions in capital expenditures and tens of thousands of good-paying jobs for North Carolinians, and boost Duke towards its mandate to achieve carbon neutrality by mid-century – a true win-win-win scenario.”
A pair of experts testifying for the North Carolina Sustainable Energy Association noted that Duke would benefit from being a “second mover” on offshore wind in the United States: it could learn from the many other projects underway on the Eastern seaboard without putting ratepayers at risk.
In contrast, John O’Brien and Philip Moor warned that for small modular nuclear reactors, “it is unclear when the Companies will be a second mover… the only approved project design…has been cancelled, and the closest designs… are under development by TerraPower and the Tennessee Valley Authority.”
Skepticism of new gas and ‘advanced’ nuclear
Indeed, while most clean energy advocates believe large, existing, emissions-free nuclear power plants can play a vital role in curbing carbon pollution, several say Duke’s near-term pursuit of as-yet unproven small modular reactors over more readily available alternatives is a mistake.
“Given the long lead-times, nuclear experts have found that [small modular reactors] will do nothing to address climate change, as the technology is too little, too late,” Grant Smith, senior energy policy advisor with Environmental Working Group, testified on behalf of his group, Durham nonprofit NC WARN, and others.
Numerous stakeholders criticized Duke’s plan to build 10 new gas plants in the next decade, half of which would be large baseload plants forced by new federal rules to run 40% of the time or less. Not only would Duke customers be on the hook for these underutilized plants, critics argued, they’d also be subject to erratic fuel prices.
“In North Carolina, this volatility was at the heart of hundreds of millions of dollars of recent fuel cost increases approved by the commission,” expert witness Evan Hansen testified on behalf of Appalachian Voices. “The Companies’ proposed aggressive build-out of natural gas-fired power plants will only increase their exposure, and their ratepayers’ exposure, to the future volatility of natural gas prices.”
The company’s strategy of converting gas plants to run on hydrogen molecules separated from other compounds as late as 2049 also strains credulity for some.
“Duke’s general plan to build new natural gas-firing facilities and then transition those facilities to 100% hydrogen-firing faces significant technical uncertainty, infrastructure hurdles and costs,” testified William McAleb for the Environmental Defense Fund. The plants, he said, “are not necessary to maintain grid reliability, may never be co-fired with hydrogen, and will likely raise rates.”
The Clean Energy Buyers Association also suggested that Duke’s plan to supply its members with gas-fired electricity could backfire, causing the state to lose economic development projects and the utility to lose new customers.
“Some of the new load that Duke is forecasting may not materialize if Duke increases the carbon intensity of its resource mix as it has proposed to do in this docket, since some of the customers bringing new load… have clean energy targets,” the association’s Davis wrote.
If that happens, he said, “and Duke overbuilds with fossil fuel capacity, it would result in higher costs for existing customers and make it more difficult for existing customers to meet their sustainability targets.”
Amid all this criticism, support for Duke’s approach stood out, especially where the timeline is concerned.
Testifying for the Carolina Industrial Group for Fair Industrial Rates, a powerful consortium of manufacturers and other large Duke customers, Brian Collins asserted, “there is increased cost and risk in reliably meeting the interim 70% target by 2030. As a result, I recommend that the Commission not require Duke to meet the 70% emission reductions target by 2030.”
Public Staff, the state-sanctioned ratepayer advocate, believes that compliance with the interim pollution cut is possible by 2034 but not before. And the state’s 26 electric cooperatives, which buy electricity wholesale from Duke, expressed some concern about the speed of transmission upgrades necessary to add renewable energy to the grid fast enough.
A technical conference is scheduled for next week in Raleigh, and what is likely to be weeks of expert-witness hearings begin July 22.
This country’s heaviest polluters also rely on a workforce that disproportionately fails to fill good-paying jobs with people of color who are more likely to be affected by their emissions, according to a new study.
The research, from Tulane University’s Environmental Law Clinic — currently under peer review — finds that people of color are underrepresented in high-paying jobs in both the chemical manufacturing and petroleum/coal industry.
And Louisiana, with one of the largest concentrations of petrochemical facilities in the United States, is the only state where minorities were underrepresented in low-paying and high-paying jobs in both industries.
For advocates there, this new report is proof that the good jobs are going to white people while much of the toxic emissions and health risks are being endured by people living in the surrounding communities, which tend to be low-income or predominantly minority.
“The pollution versus jobs narrative is really oversimplified because the trade off affects different groups unevenly,” said Kimberly Terrell, director of community engagement and a staff scientist with the Tulane law clinic who led the research team. “Petrochemical jobs that mostly go to white workers can’t offset the harm of petrochemical pollution that mostly occurs in Black and Hispanic neighborhoods.”
The research showed that people of color were generally underrepresented in high-paying jobs in both the chemical manufacturing sector and petroleum/coal industry and often were over-represented in low-paying jobs in the chemical industry, with results “mixed” for the same category on the petroleum side.
In another recently released report, researchers described a situation in Louisiana’s Plaquemines Parish in which local residents of color were unable to take advantage of construction jobs at a terminal that exports methane, also known as liquefied natural gas.
The Mississippi River ferry connecting the plant to the community did not run early enough to get the employees to work by 5 a.m., as required. And prospective workers — many without reliable transportation — had to attend weeks of training in New Orleans 55 miles away, according to researchers from Texas Southern University and the University of Montana.
Nationally, higher paying jobs in the chemical manufacturing industry disproportionately went to more white people in Texas, Louisiana and Georgia, where minorities represent 59%, 41% and 49% of their respective states’ populations but held 38%, 21% and 28% of the better-paid jobs within the industry.
In the petroleum/coal industry, people of color were underrepresented in higher-paying jobs in at least 14 states — including Texas, California, Louisiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Illinois.
Ashley Shelton, founder and chief executive officer of statewide lobbying nonprofit The Power Coalition for Equity and Justice, praised the study for proving what she and most Louisiana advocates have known for quite some time. Shelton said state leaders, and others across the country, are “selling out” fenceline communities to the petrochemical industry.
“We have to stop pretending oil and gas, which in Louisiana we are great defenders of, is gonna save us because they’re not and they never were and aren’t trying to,” Shelton said, noting that Louisiana is last in many quality-of-life indicators. “We are winning the race to the bottom.”