A London-based nonprofit is poised to become one of the world’s largest financial backers of solar geoengineering research. And it’s just one of a growing number of foundations eager to support scientists exploring whether the world could ease climate change by reflecting away more sunlight.

Quadrature Climate Foundation, established in 2019 and funded through the proceeds of the investment fund Quadrature Capital, plans to provide $40 million for work in this field over the next three years, Greg De Temmerman, the organization’s chief science officer, told MIT Technology Review. 

That’s a big number for this subject—double what all foundations and wealthy individuals provided from 2008 through 2018 and roughly on par with what the US government has offered to date. 

“We think we can have a very strong impact in accelerating research, making sure it’s happening, and trying to unlock some public money at some point,” De Temmerman says.

Other nonprofits are set to provide tens of millions of dollars’ worth of additional grants to solar geoengineering research or related government advocacy work in the coming months and years. The uptick in funding will offer scientists in the controversial field far more support than they’ve enjoyed in the past and allow them to pursue a wider array of lab work, modeling, and potentially even outdoor experiments that could improve our understanding of the benefits and risks of such interventions. 

“It just feels like a new world, really different from last year,” says David Keith, a prominent geoengineering researcher and founding faculty director of the Climate Systems Engineering Initiative at the University of Chicago.

Other nonprofits that have recently disclosed funding for solar geoengineering research or government advocacy, or announced plans to provide it, include the Simons Foundation, the Environmental Defense Fund, and the Bernard and Anne Spitzer Charitable Trust. 

In addition, Meta’s former chief technology officer, Mike Schroepfer, told MIT Technology Review he is spinning out a new nonprofit, Outlier Projects. He says it will provide funding to solar geoengineering research as well as to work on ocean-based carbon removal and efforts to stabilize rapidly melting glaciers.

Outlier has already issued grants for the first category to the Environmental Defense Fund, Keith’s program at the University of Chicago, and two groups working to support research and engagement on the subject in the poorer, hotter parts of the world: the Degrees Initiative and the Alliance for Just Deliberation on Solar Geoengineering.

Researchers say that the rising dangers of climate change, the lack of progress on cutting emissions, and the relatively small amount of government research funding to date are fueling the growing support for the field.

“A lot of people are recognizing the obvious,” says Douglas MacMartin, a senior research associate in mechanical and aerospace engineering at Cornell, who focuses on geoengineering. “We’re not in a good position with regard to mitigation—and we haven’t spent enough money on research to be able to support good, wise decisions on solar geoengineering.”

Scientists are exploring a variety of potential methods of reflecting away more sunlight, including injecting certain particles into the stratosphere to mimic the cooling effect of volcanic eruptions, spraying salt toward marine clouds to make them brighter, or sprinkling fine dust-like material into the sky to break up heat-trapping cirrus clouds.

Critics contend that neither nonprofits nor scientists should support studying any of these methods, arguing that raising the possibility of such interventions eases pressure to cut emissions and creates a “slippery slope” toward deploying the technology. Even some who support more research fear that funding it through private sources, particularly from wealthy individuals who made their fortunes in tech and finance, may allow studies to move forward without appropriate oversight and taint public perceptions of the field.

The sense that we’re “putting the climate system in the care of people who have disrupted the media and information ecosystems, or disrupted finance, in the past” could undermine public trust in a scientific realm that many already find unsettling, says Holly Buck, an assistant professor at the University of Buffalo and author of After Geoengineering.

‘Unlocking solutions’

One of Quadrature’s first solar geoengineering grants went to the University of Washington’s Marine Cloud Brightening Program. In early April, that research group made headlines for beginning, and then being forced to halt, small-scale outdoor experiments on a decommissioned aircraft carrier sitting off the coast of Alameda, California. The effort entailed spraying a mist of small sea salt particles into the air. 

Quadrature was also one of the donors to a $20.5 million fund for the Washington, DC, nonprofit SilverLining, which was announced in early May. The group pools and distributes grants to solar geoengineering researchers around the world and has pushed for greater government support and funding for the field. The new fund will support that policy advocacy work as well as efforts to “promote equitable participation by all countries,” Kelly Wanser, executive director of SilverLining, said in an email.

She added that it’s crucial to accelerate solar geoengineering research because of the rising dangers of climate change, including the risk of passing “catastrophic tipping points.”

“Current climate projections may even underestimate risks, particularly to vulnerable populations, highlighting the urgent need to improve risk prediction and expand response strategies,” she wrote.

Quadrature has also issued grants for related work to Colorado State University, the University of Exeter, and the Geoengineering Model Intercomparison Project, an effort to run the same set of modeling experiments across an array of climate models. 

The foundation intends to direct its solar geoengineering funding to advance efforts in two main areas: academic research that could improve understanding of various approaches, and work to develop global oversight structures “to enable decision-making on [solar radiation modification] that is transparent, equitable, and science based.”

“We want to empower people to actually make informed decisions at some point,” De Temmerman says, stressing the particular importance of ensuring that people in the Global South are actively involved in such determinations. 

He says that Quadrature is not advocating for specific outcomes, taking no position on whether or not to ultimately use such tools. It also won’t support for-profit startups. 

In an emailed response to questions, he stressed that the funding for solar geoengineering is a tiny part of the foundation’s overall mission, representing just 5% of its $930 million portfolio. The lion’s share has gone to accelerate efforts to cut greenhouse-gas pollution, remove it from the atmosphere, and help vulnerable communities “respond and adapt to climate change to minimize harm.”

Billionaires Greg Skinner and Suneil Setiya founded both the Quadrature investment fund as well as the foundation. The nonprofit’s stated mission is unlocking solutions to the climate crisis, which it describes as “the most urgent challenge of our time.” But the group, which has 26 employees, has faced recent criticism for its benefactors’ stakes in oil and gas companies. Last summer, the Guardian reported that Quadrature Capital held tens of millions of dollars in investments in dozens of fossil-fuel companies, including ConocoPhillips and Cheniere Energy.

In response to a question about the potential for privately funded foundations to steer research findings in self-interested ways, or to create the perception that the results might be so influenced, De Temmerman stated: “We are completely transparent in our funding, ensuring it is used solely for public benefit and not for private gain.”

More foundations, more funds 

To be sure, a number of wealthy individuals and foundations have been providing funds for years to solar geoengineering research or policy work, or groups that collect funds to do so.

A 2021 paper highlighted contributions from a number of wealthy individuals, with a high concentration from the tech sector, including Microsoft cofounder Bill Gates, Facebook cofounder Dustin Moskovitz, Facebook alum and venture capitalist Matt Cohler, former Google executive (and extreme skydiver) Alan Eustace, and tech and climate solutions investors Chris and Crystal Sacca. It noted a number of nonprofits providing grants to the field as well, including the Hewlett Foundation, the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, and the Blue Marble Fund.

But despite the backing of those high-net-worth individuals, the dollar figures have been low. From 2008 through 2018, total private funding only reached about $20 million, while government funding just topped $30 million. 

The spending pace is now picking up, though, as new players move in.

The Simons Foundation previously announced it would provide $50 million to solar geoengineering research over a five-year period. The New York–based nonprofit invited researchers to apply for grants of up to $500,000, adding that it “strongly” encouraged scientists in the Global South to do so. 

The organization is mostly supporting modeling and lab studies. It said it would not fund social science work or field experiments that would release particles into the environment. Proposals for such experiments have sparked heavy public criticism in the past.

Simons recently announced a handful of initial awards to researchers at Harvard, Princeton, ETH Zurich, the Indian Institute of Tropical Meteorology, the US National Center for Atmospheric Research, and elsewhere.

“For global warming, we will need as many tools in the toolbox as possible,” says David Spergel, president of the Simons Foundation. 

“This was an area where there was a lot of basic science to do, and a lot of things we didn’t understand,” he adds. “So we wanted to fund the basic science.”

In January, the Environmental Defense Fund hosted a meeting at its San Francisco headquarters to discuss the guardrails that should guide research on solar geoengineering, as first reported by Politico. EDF had already provided some support to the Solar Radiation Management Governance Initiative, a partnership with the Royal Society and other groups set up to “ensure that any geoengineering research that goes ahead—inside or outside the laboratory—is conducted in a manner that is responsible, transparent, and environmentally sound.” (It later evolved into the Degrees Initiative.)

But EDF has now moved beyond that work and is “in the planning stages of starting a research and policy initiative on [solar radiation modification],” said Lisa Dilling, associate chief scientist at the environmental nonprofit, in an email. That program will include regranting, which means raising funds from other groups or individuals and distributing them to selected recipients, and advocating for more public funding, she says. 

Outlier also provided a grant to a new nonprofit, Reflective. This organization is developing a road map to prioritize research needs and pooling philanthropic funding to accelerate work in the most urgent areas, says its founder, Dakota Gruener. 

Gruener was previously the executive director of ID2020, a nonprofit alliance that develops digital identification systems. Cornell’s MacMartin is a scientific advisor to the new nonprofit and will serve as the chair of the scientific advisory board.

Government funding is also slowly increasing. 

The US government started a solar geoengineering research program in 2019, funded through the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, that currently provides about $11 million a year.

In February, the UK’s Natural Environment Research Council announced a £10.5 million, five-year research program. In addition, the UK’s Advanced Research and Invention Agency has said it’s exploring and soliciting input for a research program in climate and weather engineering.

Funding has not been allocated as yet, but the agency’s programs typically provide around £50 million.

‘When, not if’

More funding is generally welcome news for researchers who hope to learn more about the potential of solar geoengineering. Many argue that it’s crucial to study the subject because the technology may offer ways to reduce death and suffering, and prevent the loss of species and the collapse of ecosystems. Some also stress it’s crucial to learn what impact these interventions might have and how these tools could be appropriately regulated, because nations may be tempted to implement them unilaterally in the face of extreme climate crises.

It’s likely a question of “when, not if,” and we should “act and research accordingly,” says Gernot Wagner, a climate economist at Columbia Business School, who was previously the executive director of Harvard’s Solar Geoengineering Research Program. “In many ways the time has come to take solar geoengineering much more seriously.”

In 2021, a National Academies report recommended that the US government create a solar geoengineering research program, equipped with $100 million to $200 million in funding over five years.

But there are differences between coordinated government-funded research programs, which have established oversight bodies to consider the merit, ethics, and appropriate transparency of proposed research, and a number of nonprofits with different missions providing funding to the teams they choose. 

To the degree that they create oversight processes that don’t meet the same standards, it could affect the type of science that’s done, the level of public notice provided, and the pressures that researchers feel to deliver certain results, says Duncan McLaren, a climate intervention fellow at the University of California, Los Angeles.

“You’re not going to be too keen on producing something that seems contrary to what you thought the grant maker was looking for,” he says, adding later: “Poorly governed research could easily give overly optimistic answers about what [solar geoengineering] could do, and what its side effects may or may not be.”

Whatever the motivations of individual donors, Buck fears that the concentration of money coming from high tech and finance could also create optics issues, undermining faith in research and researchers and possibly slowing progress in the field.

“A lot of this is going to backfire because it’s going to appear to people as Silicon Valley tech charging in and breaking things,” she says. 

Cloud controversy

Some of the concerns about privately funded work in this area are already being tested.

By most accounts, the Alameda experiment in marine cloud brightening that Quadrature backed was an innocuous basic-science project, which would not have actually altered clouds. But the team stirred up controversy by moving ahead without wide public notice.

City officials quickly halted the experiments, and earlier this month the city council voted unanimously to shut the project down.

Alameda mayor Marilyn Ezzy Ashcraft has complained that city staffers received only vague notice about the project up front. They were then inundated with calls from residents who had heard about it in the media and were concerned about the health implications, she said, according to CBS News.

In response to a question about the criticism, SilverLining’s Wanser said in an email: “We worked with the lease-holder, the USS Hornet, on the process for notifying the city of Alameda. The city staff then engaged experts to independently evaluate the health and environmental safety of the … studies, who found that they did not pose any environmental or health risks to the community.”

Wanser, who is a principal of the Marine Cloud Brightening Program, stressed they’ve also received offers of support from local residents and businesses.

“We think that the availability of data and information on the nature of the studies, and its evaluation by local officials, was valuable in helping people consider it in an informed way for themselves,” she added.

Some observers were also concerned that the research team said it selected its own six-member board to review the proposed project. That differs from a common practice with publicly funded scientific experiments, which often include a double-blind review process, in which neither the researchers nor the reviewers know each other’s names. The concern with breaking from that approach is that scientists could select outside researchers who they believe are likely to greenlight their proposals, and the reviewers may feel pressure to provide more favorable feedback than they might offer anonymously.

Wanser stressed that the team picked “distinguished researchers in the specialized field.”

“There are different approaches for different programs, and in this case, the levels of expertise and transparency were important features,” she added. “They have not received any criticism of the design of the studies themselves, which speaks to their robustness and their value.”

‘Transparent and responsible’

Solar geoengineering researchers often say that they too would prefer public funding, all things being equal. But they stress that those sources are still limited and it’s important to move the field forward in the meantime, so long as there are appropriate standards in place.

“As long as there’s clear transparency about funding sources, [and] there’s no direct influence on the research by the donors, I don’t precisely see what the problem is,” MacMartin says. 

Several nonprofits emerging or moving into this space said that they are working to create responsible oversight structures and rules.

Gruener says that Reflective won’t accept anonymous donations or contributions from people whose wealth comes mostly from fossil fuels. She adds that all donors will be disclosed, that they won’t have any say over the scientific direction of the organization or its chosen research teams, and that they can’t sit on the organization’s board. 

“We think transparency is the only way to build trust, and we’re trying to ensure that our governance structure, our processes, and the outcomes of our research are all public, understandable, and readily available,” she says.

In a statement, Outlier said it’s also in favor of more publicly supported work: “It’s essential for governments to become the leading funders and coordinators of research in these areas.” It added that it’s supporting groups working to accelerate “government leadership” on the subject, including through its grant to EDF. 

Quadrature’s De Temmerman stresses the importance of public research programs as well, noting that the nonprofit hopes to catalyze much more such funding through its support for government advocacy work. 

“We are here to push at the beginning and then at some point just let some other forms of capital actually come,” he says.

Pump jacks and pipelines clutter the Elk Hills oil field of California, a scrubby stretch of land in the southern Central Valley that rests above one of the nation’s richest deposits of fossil fuels.

Oil production has been steadily declining in the state for decades, as tech jobs have boomed and legislators have enacted rigorous environmental and climate rules. Companies, towns, and residents across Kern County, where the poverty rate hovers around 18%, have grown increasingly desperate for new economic opportunities.

Late last year, California Resources Corporation (CRC), one of the state’s largest oil and gas producers, secured draft permits from the US Environmental Protection Agency to develop a new type of well in the oil field, which it asserts would provide just that. If the company gets final approval from regulators, it intends to drill a series of boreholes down to a sprawling sedimentary formation roughly 6,000 feet below the surface, where it will inject tens of millions of metric tons of carbon dioxide to store it away forever. 

They’re likely to become California’s first set of what are known as Class VI wells, designed specifically for sequestering the planet-warming greenhouse gas. But many, many similar carbon storage projects are on the way across the state, the US, and the world—a trend driven by growing government subsidies, looming national climate targets, and declining revenue and growth in traditional oil and gas activities.

Since the start of 2022, companies like CRC have submitted nearly 200 applications in the US alone to develop wells of this new type. That offers one of the clearest signs yet that capturing the carbon dioxide pollution from industrial and energy operations instead of releasing it into the atmosphere is about to become a much bigger business. 

Proponents hope it’s the start of a sort of oil boom in reverse, kick-starting a process through which the world will eventually bury more greenhouse gas than it adds to the atmosphere. They argue that embracing carbon capture and storage (CCS) is essential to any plan to rapidly slash emissions. This is, in part, because retrofitting the world’s massive existing infrastructure with carbon dioxide–scrubbing equipment could be faster and easier than rebuilding every power plant and factory. CCS can be a particularly helpful way to cut emissions in certain heavy industries, like cement, fertilizer, and paper and pulp production, where we don’t have scalable, affordable ways of producing crucial goods without releasing carbon dioxide. 

“In the right context, CCS saves time, it saves money, and it lowers risks,” says Julio Friedmann, chief scientist at Carbon Direct and previously the principal deputy assistant secretary for the Department of Energy’s Office of Fossil Energy.

But opponents insist these efforts will prolong the life of fossil-fuel plants, allow air and water pollution to continue, and create new health and environmental risks that could disproportionately harm disadvantaged communities surrounding the projects, including those near the Elk Hills oil field.

“It’s the oil majors that are proposing and funding a lot of these projects,” says Catherine Garoupa, executive director of the Central Valley Air Quality Coalition, which has tracked a surge of applications for carbon storage projects throughout the district. “They see it as a way of extending business as usual and allowing them to be carbon neutral on paper while still doing the same old dirty practices.”

A slow start

The US federal government began overseeing injection wells in the 1970s. A growing number of companies had begun injecting waste underground, sparking a torrent of water pollution lawsuits and the passage of several major laws designed to ensure clean drinking water. The EPA developed standards and rules for a variety of wells and waste types, including deep Class I wells for hazardous or even radioactive refuse and shallower Class V wells for non-hazardous fluids.

In 2010, amid federal efforts to create incentives for industries to capture more carbon dioxide, the agency added Class VI wells for CO₂ sequestration. To qualify, a proposed well site must have the appropriate geology, with a deep reservoir of porous rock that can accommodate carbon dioxide molecules sitting below a layer of nonporous “cap rock” like shale. The reservoir also needs to sit well below any groundwater aquifers, so that it won’t contaminate drinking water supplies, and it must be far enough from fault lines to reduce the chances that earthquakes might crack open pathways for the greenhouse gas to escape. 

The carbon sequestration program got off to a slow start. As of late 2021, there were only two Class VI injection wells in operation and 22 applications pending before regulators.

But there’s been a flurry of proposals since—both to the EPA and to the three states that have secured permission to authorize such wells themselves, which include North Dakota, Wyoming, and Louisiana. The Clean Air Task Force, a Boston-based energy policy think tank keeping track of such projects, says there are now more than 200 pending applications.

What changed is the federal incentives. The Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 dramatically boosted the tax credits available for permanently storing carbon dioxide in geological formations, bumping it up from $50 a ton to $85 when it’s captured from industrial and power plants. The credit rose from $50 to $180 a ton when the greenhouse gas is sourced from direct-air-capture facilities, a different technology that sucks greenhouse gas out of the air. Tax credits allow companies to directly reduce their federal tax obligations, which can cover the added expense of CCS across a growing number of sectors.

The separate Bipartisan Infrastructure Law also provided billions of dollars for carbon capture demonstration and pilot projects.

A tax credit windfall 

CRC became an independent company in 2014, when Occidental Petroleum, one of the world’s largest oil and gas producers, spun it off along with many of its California assets. But the new company quickly ran into financial difficulties, filing for bankruptcy protection in 2020 amid plummeting energy demand during the early stages of the covid-19 pandemic. It emerged several months later, after restructuring its debt, converting loans into equity, and raising new lines of credit. 

The following year, CRC created a carbon management subsidiary, Carbon TerraVault, seizing an emerging opportunity to develop a new business around putting carbon dioxide back underground, whether for itself or for customers. The company says it was also motivated by the chance to “help advance the energy transition and curb rising global temperatures at 1.5 °C.”

CRC didn’t respond to inquiries from MIT Technology Review.

In its EPA application the company, based in Long Beach, California, says that hundreds of thousands of tons of carbon dioxide would initially be captured each year from a gas treatment facility in the Elk Hills area as well as a planned plant designed to produce hydrogen from natural gas. The gas is purified and compressed before it’s pumped underground.

The company says the four wells for which it has secured draft permits could store nearly 1.5 million tons of carbon dioxide per year from those and other facilities, with a total capacity of 38 million tons over 26 years. CRC says the projects will create local jobs and help the state meet its pressing climate targets.

“We are committed to supporting the state in reaching carbon neutrality and developing a more sustainable future for all Californians,” Francisco Leon, chief executive of CRC, said of the draft EPA decision in a statement. 

Those wells, however, are just the start of the company’s carbon management plans: Carbon TerraVault has applied to develop 27 additional wells for carbon storage across the state, including two more at Elk Hills, according to the EPA’s permit tracker. If those are all approved and developed, it would transform the subsidiary into a major player in the emerging business of carbon storage—and set it up for a windfall in federal tax credits. 

Carbon sequestration projects can qualify for 12 years of US subsidies. If Carbon TerraVault injects half a million tons of carbon dioxide into each of the 31 wells it has applied for over that time period, the projects could secure tax credits worth more than $15.8 billion.

That figure doesn’t take inflation into account and assumes the company meets the most stringent requirements of the law and sources all the carbon dioxide from industrial facilities and power plants. The number could rise significantly if the company injects more than that amount into wells, or if a significant share of the carbon dioxide is sourced through direct air capture. 

Chevron, BP, ExxonMobil, and Archer Daniels Midland, a major producer of ethanol, have also submitted Class VI well applications to the EPA and could be poised to secure significant IRA subsidies as well.

To be sure, it takes years to secure regulatory permits, and not every proposed project will move forward in the end. The companies involved will still need to raise financing, add carbon capture equipment to polluting facilities, and in many cases build out carbon dioxide pipelines that require separate approvals. But the increased IRA tax credits could drive as much as 250 million metric tons of additional annual storage or use of carbon dioxide in the US by 2035, according to the latest figures from the Princeton-led REPEAT Project.

“It’s a gold rush,” Garoupa says. “It’s being shoved down our throats as ‘Oh, it’s for climate goals.’” But if we’re “not doing it judiciously and really trying to achieve real emissions reductions first,” she adds, it’s merely a distraction from the other types of climate action needed to prevent dangerous levels of warming. 

Carbon accounting

Even if CCS can help drive down emissions in the aggregate, the net climate benefits from any given project will depend on a variety of factors, including how well it’s developed and run—and what other changes it brings about throughout complex, interconnected energy systems over time.

Notably, adding carbon capture equipment to a plant doesn’t trap all the climate pollution. Project developers are generally aiming for around 90%. So if you build a new project with CCS, you’ve increased emissions, not cut them, relative to the status quo.

In addition, the carbon capture process requires a lot of power to run, which may significantly increase emissions of greenhouse gas and other pollutants elsewhere by, for example, drawing on additional generation from natural-gas plants on the grid. Plus, the added tax incentives may make it profitable for a company to continue operating a fossil-fuel plant that it would otherwise have shut down or to run the facilities more hours of the day to generate more carbon dioxide to bury. 

All the uncaptured emissions associated with those changes can reduce, if not wipe out, any carbon benefits from incorporating CCS, says Danny Cullenward, a senior fellow with the Kleinman Center for Energy Policy at the University of Pennsylvania.

But none of that matters as far as the carbon storage subsidies are concerned. Businesses could even use the savings to expand their traditional oil and gas operations, he says.

“It’s not about the net climate impact—it’s about the gross tons you stick under ground,” Cullenward says of the tax credits.

A study last year raised a warning about how that could play out in the years to come, noting that the IRA may require the US to provide hundreds of billions to trillions of dollars in tax credits for power plants that add CCS. Under the scenarios explored, those projects could collectively deliver emissions reductions of as much as 24% or increases as high as 82%. The difference depends largely on how much the incentives alter energy production and the degree to which they extend the life of coal and natural-gas plants.

Coauthor Emily Grubert, an associate professor at Notre Dame and a former deputy assistant secretary at the Department of Energy, stressed that regulators must carefully consider these complex, cascading emissions impacts when weighing whether to approve such proposals.

“Not taking this seriously risks potentially trillions of dollars and billions of tonnes of [greenhouse-gas] emissions, not to mention the trust and goodwill of the American public, which is reasonably skeptical of these potentially critically important technologies,” she wrote in an op-ed in the industry outlet Utility Dive.

Global goals

Other nations and regions are also accelerating efforts to capture and store carbon as part of their broader efforts to lower emissions and combat climate change. The EU, which has dedicated tens of billions of euros to accelerating the development of CCS, is working to develop the capacity to store 50 million tons of carbon dioxide per year by 2030, according to the Global CCS Institute’s 2023 industry report.

Likewise, Japan hopes to sequester 240 million tons annually by 2050, while Saudi Arabia is aiming for 44 million tons by 2035. The industry trade group said there were 41 CCS projects in operation around the world at the time, with another 351 under development.

A handful of US facilities have been capturing carbon dioxide for decades for a variety of uses, including processing or producing natural gas, ammonia, and soda ash, which is used in soaps, cosmetics, baking soda, and other goods.

But Ben Grove, carbon storage manager at the Clean Air Task Force, says the increased subsidies in the IRA made CCS economical for many industry segments in the US, including: chemicals, petrochemicals, hydrogen, cement, oil, gas and ethanol refineries, and steel, at least on the low end of the estimated cost ranges. 

In many cases, the available subsidies still won’t fully cover the added cost of CCS in power plants and certain other industrial facilities. But the broader hope is that these federal programs will help companies scale up and optimize these processes over time, driving down the cost of CCS and making it feasible for more sectors, Grove says.

‘Against all evidence’

In addition to the gas treatment and hydrogen plants, CRC says, another source for the captured carbon dioxide could eventually include its own Elk Hills Power Plant, which runs on natural gas extracted from the oil field. The company has said it intends to retrofit the facility to capture 1.5 million tons of emissions a year.

Still other sources could include renewable fuels plants, which may mean biofuel facilities, steam generators, and a proposed direct-air-capture plant that would be developed by the carbon-removal startup Avnos, according to the EPA filing. Carbon TerraVault is part of a consortium, which includes Avnos, Climeworks, Southern California Gas Company, and others, that has proposed developing a direct-air-capture hub in Kern County, where the Elk Hills field is located. Last year, the Department of Energy awarded the so-called California DAC Hub nearly $12 million to conduct engineering design studies for direct-air-capture facilities.

CCS may be a helpful tool for heavy industries that are really hard to clean up, but that’s largely not what CRC has proposed, says Natalia Ospina, legal director at the Center on Race, Poverty & the Environment, an environmental-justice advocacy organization in Delano, California. 

“The initial source will be the Elk Hills oil field itself and the plant that refines gas in the first place,” she says. “That is just going to allow them to extend the life of the oil and gas industry in Kern County, which goes against all the evidence in front of us in terms of how we should be addressing the climate crisis.”

Critics of the project also fear that some of these facilities will continue producing other types of pollution, like volatile organic compounds and fine particulate matter, in a region that’s already heavily polluted. Some analyses show that adding a carbon capture process reduces those other pollutants in certain cases. But Ospina argues that oil and gas companies can’t be trusted to operate such projects in ways that reduce pollution to the levels necessary to protect neighboring communities.

‘You need it’

Still, a variety of studies, from the state level to the global, conclude that CCS may play an essential role in cutting greenhouse-gas emissions fast enough to moderate the global dangers of climate change.

California is banking heavily on capturing carbon from plants or removing it from the air through various means to meet its 2045 climate neutrality goal, aiming for 20 million metric tons by 2030 and 100 million by midcentury. The Air Resources Board, the state’s main climate regulator, declared that “there is no path to carbon neutrality without carbon removal and sequestration.” 

Recent reports from the UN’s climate panel have also stressed that carbon capture could be a “critical mitigation option” for cutting emissions from cement and chemical production. The body’s modeling study scenarios that limit global warming to 1.5 °C over preindustrial levels rely on significant levels of CCS, including tens to hundreds of billions of tons of carbon dioxide captured this century from plants that use biomatter to produce heat and electricity—a process known as BECCS.

Meeting global climate targets without carbon capture would require shutting down about a quarter of the world’s fossil-fuel plants before they’ve reached the typical 50-year life span, the International Energy Agency notes. That’s an expensive proposition, and one that owners, investors, industry trade groups, and even nations will fiercely resist.

“Everyone keeps coming to the same conclusion, which is that you need it,” Friedmann says.

Lorelei Oviatt, director of the Kern County Planning and Natural Resources Department, declined to express an opinion about CRC’s Elk Hills project while local regulators are reviewing it. But she strongly supports the development of CCS projects in general, describing it as a way to help her region restore lost tax revenue and jobs as “the state puts the area’s oil companies out of business” through tighter regulations.

County officials have proposed the development of a more than 4,000-acre carbon management park, which could include hydrogen, steel, and biomass facilities with carbon-capture components. An economic analysis last year found that the campus and related activities could create more than 22,000 jobs, and generate more than $88 million in sales and property taxes for the economically challenged county and cities, under a high-end scenario. 

Oviatt adds that embracing carbon capture may also allow the region to avoid the “stranded asset” problem, in which major employers are forced to shut down expensive power plants, refineries, and extraction wells that could otherwise continue operating for years to decades.

“We’re the largest producer of oil in California and seventh in the country; we have trillions and trillions of dollars in infrastructure,” she says. “The idea that all of that should just be abandoned does not seem like a thoughtful way to design an economy.”

Carbon dioxide leaks

But critics fear that preserving it simply means creating new dangers for the disproportionately poor, unhealthy, and marginalized communities surrounding these projects.

In a 2022 letter to the EPA, the Center for Biological Diversity raised the possibility that the sequestered carbon dioxide could leak out of wells or pipelines, contributing to climate change and harming local residents.

These concerns are not without foundation.

In February 2020, Denbury Enterprises’ Delta pipeline, which stretches more than 100 miles between Mississippi and Louisiana, ruptured and released more than 30,000 barrels’ worth of compressed, liquid CO₂ gas near the town of Satartia, Mississippi. 

The leak forced hundreds of people to evacuate their homes and sent dozens to local hospitals, some struggling to breathe and others unconscious and foaming at the mouth, as the Huffington Post detailed in an investigative piece. Some vehicles stopped running as well: the carbon dioxide in air displaced oxygen, which is essential to the combustion in combustion engines.

There have also been repeated carbon dioxide releases over the last two decades at an enhanced oil recovery project at the Salt Creek oil field in Wyoming. Starting in the late 1800s, a variety of operators have drilled, abandoned, sealed, and resealed thousands of wells at the site, with varying degrees of quality, reliability, and documentation, according to the Natural Resources Defense Council. A sustained leak in 2004 emitted 12,000 cubic feet of the gas per day, on average, while a 2016 release of carbon dioxide and methane forced a school near the field to relocate its classes for the remainder of the year.

Some fear that similar issues could arise at Elk Hills, which could become the nation’s first carbon sequestration project developed in a depleted oil field. Companies have drilled and operated thousands of wells over decades at the site, many of which have sat idle and unplugged for years, according to a 2020 investigation by the Los Angeles Times and the Center for Public Integrity.

Ospina argues that CRC and county officials are asking the residents of Kern County to act as test subjects for unproven and possibly dangerous CCS use cases, compounding the health risks facing a region that is already exposed to too many.

Whether the Elk Hills project moves forward or not, the looming carbon storage boom will soon force many other areas to wrestle with similar issues. What remains to be seen is whether companies and regulators can adequately address community fears and demonstrate that the climate benefits promised in modeling studies will be delivered in reality. 

Update: This story was updated to remove a photo that was not of the Elk Hills oil field and had been improperly captioned.

Fixing our collective meat problem is one of the trickiest challenges in addressing climate change—and for some baffling reason, the world seems intent on making the task even harder.

The latest example occurred last week, when Florida governor Ron DeSantis signed a law banning the production, sale, and transportation of cultured meat across the Sunshine State. 

“Florida is fighting back against the global elite’s plan to force the world to eat meat grown in a petri dish or bugs to achieve their authoritarian goals,” DeSantis seethed in a statement.

Alternative meat and animal products—be they lab-grown or plant-based—offer a far more sustainable path to mass-producing protein than raising animals for milk or slaughter. Yet again and again, politicians, dietitians, and even the press continue to devise ways to portray these products as controversial, suspect, or substandard. No matter how good they taste or how much they might reduce greenhouse-gas emissions, there’s always some new obstacle standing in the way—in this case, Governor DeSantis, wearing a not-at-all-uncomfortable smile.  

The new law clearly has nothing to do with the creeping threat of authoritarianism (though for more on that, do check out his administration’s crusade to ban books about gay penguins). First and foremost it is an act of political pandering, a way to coddle Florida’s sizable cattle industry, which he goes on to mention in the statement.

Cultured meat is seen as a threat to the livestock industry because animals are only minimally involved in its production. Companies grow cells originally extracted from animals in a nutrient broth and then form them into nuggets, patties or fillets. The US Department of Agriculture has already given its blessing to two companies, Upside Foods and Good Meat, to begin selling cultured chicken products to consumers. Israel recently became the first nation to sign off on a beef version.

It’s still hard to say if cultured meat will get good enough and cheap enough anytime soon to meaningfully reduce our dependence on cattle, chicken, pigs, sheep, goats, and other animals for our protein and our dining pleasure. And it’s sure to take years before we can produce it in ways that generate significantly lower emissions than standard livestock practices today.

But there are high hopes it could become a cleaner and less cruel way of producing meat, since it wouldn’t require all the land, food, and energy needed to raise, feed, slaughter, and process animals today. One study found that cultured meat could reduce emissions per kilogram of meat 92% by 2030, even if cattle farming also achieves substantial improvements.

Those sorts of gains are essential if we hope to ease the rising dangers of climate change, because meat, dairy, and cheese production are huge contributors to greenhouse-gas emissions.

DeSantis and politicians in other states that may follow suit, including Alabama and Tennessee, are raising the specter of mandated bug-eating and global-elite string-pulling to turn cultured meat into a cultural issue, and kill the industry in its infancy. 

But, again, it’s always something. I’ve heard a host of other arguments across the political spectrum directed against various alternative protein products, which also include plant-based burgers, cheeses, and milks, or even cricket-derived powders and meal bars. Apparently these meat and dairy alternatives shouldn’t be highly processed, mass-produced, or genetically engineered, nor should they ever be as unhealthy as their animal-based counterparts. 

In effect, we are setting up tests that almost no products can pass, when really all we should ask of alternative proteins is that they be safe, taste good, and cut climate pollution.

The meat of the matter

Here’s the problem. 

Livestock production generates more than 7 billion tons of carbon dioxide, making up 14.5% of the world’s overall climate emissions, according to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization.

Beef, milk, and cheese production are, by far, the biggest problems, representing some 65% of the sector’s emissions. We burn down carbon-dense forests to provide cows with lots of grazing land; then they return the favor by burping up staggering amounts of methane, one of the most powerful greenhouse gases. Florida’s cattle population alone, for example, could generate about 180 million pounds of methane every year, as calculated from standard per-animal emissions. 

In an earlier paper, the World Resources Institute noted that in the average US diet, beef contributed 3% of the calories but almost half the climate pollution from food production. (If you want to take a single action that could meaningfully ease your climate footprint, read that sentence again.)

The added challenge is that the world’s population is both growing and becoming richer, which means more people can afford more meat. 

There are ways to address some of the emissions from livestock production without cultured meat or plant-based burgers, including developing supplements that reduce methane burps and encouraging consumers to simply reduce meat consumption. Even just switching from beef to chicken can make a huge difference.

Let’s clear up one matter, though. I can’t imagine a politician in my lifetime, in the US or most of the world, proposing a ban on meat and expecting to survive the next election. So no, dear reader. No one’s coming for your rib eye. If there’s any attack on personal freedoms and economic liberty here, DeSantis is the one waging it by not allowing Floridians to choose for themselves what they want to eat.

But there is a real problem in need of solving. And the grand hope of companies like Beyond Meat, Upside Foods, Miyoko’s Creamery, and dozens of others is that we can develop meat, milk, and cheese alternatives that are akin to EVs: that is to say, products that are good enough to solve the problem without demanding any sacrifice from consumers or requiring government mandates. (Though subsidies always help.)

The good news is the world is making some real progress in developing substitutes that increasingly taste like, look like, and have (with apologies for the snooty term) the “mouthfeel” of the traditional versions, whether they’ve been developed from animal cells or plants. If they catch on and scale up, it could make a real dent in emissions—with the bonus of reducing animal suffering, environmental damage, and the spillover of animal disease into the human population.

The bad news is we can’t seem to take the wins when we get them. 

The blue cheese blues

For lunch last Friday, I swung by the Butcher’s Son Vegan Delicatessen & Bakery in Berkeley, California, and ordered a vegan Buffalo chicken sandwich with a blue cheese on the side that was developed by Climax Foods, also based in Berkeley.

Late last month, it emerged that the product had, improbably, clinched the cheese category in the blind taste tests of the prestigious Good Food awards, as the Washington Post revealed.

Let’s pause here to note that this is a stunning victory for vegan cheeses, a clear sign that we can use plants to produce top-notch artisanal products, indistinguishable even to the refined palates of expert gourmands. If a product is every bit as tasty and satisfying as the original but can be produced without milking methane-burping animals, that’s a big climate win.

But sadly, that’s not where the story ended.

After word leaked out that the blue cheese was a finalist, if not the winner, the Good Food Foundation seems to have added a rule that didn’t exist when the competition began but which disqualified Climax Blue, the Post reported.

I have no special insights into what unfolded behind the scenes. But it reads at least a little as if the competition concocted an excuse to dethrone a vegan cheese that had bested its animal counterparts and left traditionalists aghast. 

That victory might have done wonders to help promote acceptance of the Climax product, if not the wider category. But now the story is the controversy. And that’s a shame. Because the cheese is actually pretty good. 

I’m no professional foodie, but I do have a lifetime of expertise born of stubbornly refusing to eat any salad dressing other than blue cheese. In my own taste test, I can report it looked and tasted like mild blue cheese, which is all it needs to do.

A beef about burgers

Banning a product or changing a cheese contest’s rules after determining the winner are both bad enough. But the reaction to alternative proteins that has left me most befuddled is the media narrative that formed around the latest generation of plant-based burgers soon after they started getting popular a few years ago. Story after story would note, in the tone of a bold truth-teller revealing something new each time: Did you know these newfangled plant-based burgers aren’t actually all that much healthier than the meat variety? 

To which I would scream at my monitor: THAT WAS NEVER THE POINT!

The world has long been perfectly capable of producing plant-based burgers that are better for you, but the problem is that they tend to taste like plants. The actual innovation with the more recent options like Beyond Burger or Impossible Burger is that they look and taste like the real thing but can be produced with a dramatically smaller climate footprint.

That’s a big enough win in itself. 

If I were a health reporter, maybe I’d focus on these issues too. And if health is your personal priority, you should shop for a different plant-based patty (or I might recommend a nice salad, preferably with blue cheese dressing).

But speaking as a climate reporter, expecting a product to ease global warming, taste like a juicy burger, and also be low in salt, fat, and calories is absurd. You may as well ask a startup to conduct sorcery.

More important, making a plant-based burger healthier for us may also come at the cost of having it taste like a burger. Which would make it that much harder to win over consumers beyond the niche of vegetarians and thus have any meaningful impact on emissions. WHICH IS THE POINT!

It’s incredibly difficult to convince consumers to switch brands and change behaviors, even for a product as basic as toothpaste or toilet paper. Food is trickier still, because it’s deeply entwined with local culture, family traditions, festivals and celebrations. Whether we find a novel food product to be yummy or yucky is subjective and highly subject to suggestion. 

And so I’m ending with a plea. Let’s grant ourselves the best shot possible at solving one of the hardest, most urgent problems before us. Treat bans and political posturing with the ridicule they deserve. Reject the argument that any single product must, or can, solve all the problems related to food, health, and the environment.

Give these alternative foods a shot, afford them room to improve, and keep an open mind. 

Though it’s cool if you don’t want to try the crickets.

Eliminating carbon pollution from aviation is one of the most challenging parts of the climate puzzle, simply because large commercial airlines are too heavy and need too much power during takeoff for today’s batteries to do the job. 

But one way that companies and governments are striving to make some progress is through the use of various types of sustainable aviation fuels (SAFs), which are derived from non-petroleum sources and promise to be less polluting than standard jet fuel.

This week, the US announced a push to help its biggest commercial crop, corn, become a major feedstock for SAFs. 

Federal guidelines announced on April 30 provide a pathway for ethanol producers to earn SAF tax credits within the Inflation Reduction Act, President Biden’s signature climate law, when the fuel is produced from corn or soy grown on farms that adopt certain sustainable agricultural practices.

It’s a limited pilot program, since the subsidy itself expires at the end of this year. But it could set the template for programs in the future that may help ethanol producers generate more and more SAFs, as the nation strives to produce billions of gallons of those fuels per year by 2030. 

Consequently, the so-called Climate Smart Agricultural program has already sounded alarm bells among some observers, who fear that the federal government is both overestimating the emissions benefits of ethanol and assigning too much credit to the agricultural practices in question. Those include cover crops, no-till techniques that minimize soil disturbances, and use of “enhanced-efficiency fertilizers,” which are designed to increase uptake by plants and thus reduce runoff into the environment.

The IRA offers a tax credit of $1.25 per gallon for SAFs that are 50% lower in emissions than standard jet fuel, and as much as 50 cents per gallon more for sustainable fuels that are cleaner still. The new program can help corn- or soy-based ethanol meet that threshold when the source crops are produced using some or all of those agricultural practices.

Since the vast majority of US ethanol is produced from corn, let’s focus on the issues around that crop. To get technical, the program allows ethanol producers to subtract 10 grams of carbon dioxide per megajoule of energy, a measure of carbon intensity, from the life-cycle emissions of the fuel when it’s generated from corn produced with all three of the practices mentioned. That’s about an eighth to a tenth of the carbon intensity of gasoline.

Ethanol’s questionable climate footprint

Today, US-generated ethanol is mainly mixed with gasoline. But ethanol producers are eager to develop new markets for the product as electric vehicles make up a larger share of the cars and trucks on the road. Not surprisingly, then, industry trade groups applauded the announcement this week.

The first concern with the new program, however, is that the emissions benefits of corn-based ethanol have been hotly debated for decades.

Corn, like any plant that uses photosynthesis to produce food, sucks up carbon dioxide from the air. But using corn for fuel rather than food also creates pressure to clear more land for farming, a process that releases carbon dioxide from plants and soil. In addition, planting, fertilizing, and harvesting corn produce climate pollution as well, and the same is true of refining, distributing, and burning ethanol. 

For its analyses under the new program, the Treasury Department intends to use an updated version of the so-called GREET model to evaluate the life-cycle emissions of SAFs, which was developed by the Department of Energy’s Argonne National Lab. A 2021 study from the lab, relying on that model, concluded that US corn ethanol produced as much as 52% less greenhouse gas than gasoline. 

But some researchers and nonprofits have criticized the tool for accepting low estimates of the emissions impacts of land-use changes, among other issues. Other assessments of ethanol emissions have been far more damning.

A 2022 EPA analysis surveyed the findings from a variety of models that estimate the life-cycle emissions of corn-based ethanol and found that in seven out of 20 cases, they exceeded 80% of the climate pollution from gasoline and diesel.

Moreover, the three most recent estimates from those models found ethanol emissions surpassed even the higher-end estimates for gasoline or diesel, Alison Cullen, chair of the EPA’s science advisory board, noted in a 2023 letter to the administrator of the agency.

“Thus, corn starch ethanol may not meet the definition of a renewable fuel” under the federal law that mandates the use of biofuels in the market, she wrote. If so, it’s then well short of the 50% threshold required by the IRA, and some say it’s not clear that the farming practices laid out this week could close the gap.

Agricultural practices

Nikita Pavlenko, who leads the fuels team at the International Council on Clean Transportation, a nonprofit research group, asserted in an email that the climate-smart agricultural provisions “are extremely sloppy” and “are not substantiated.” 

He said the Department of Energy and Department of Agriculture especially “put their thumbs on the scale” on the question of land-use changes, using estimates of soy and corn emissions that were 33% to 55% lower than those produced for a program associated with the UN’s International Civil Aviation Organization.

He finds that ethanol sourced from farms using these agriculture practices will still come up short of the IRA’s 50% threshold, and that producers may have to take additional steps to curtail emissions, potentially including adding carbon capture and storage to ethanol facilities or running operations on renewables like wind or solar.

Freya Chay, a program lead at CarbonPlan, which evaluates the scientific integrity of carbon removal methods and other climate actions, says that these sorts of agricultural practices can provide important benefits, including improving soil health, reducing erosion, and lowering the cost of farming. But she and others have stressed that confidently determining when certain practices actually and durably increase carbon in soil is “exceedingly complex” and varies widely depending on soil type, local climate conditions, past practices, and other variables.

One recent study of no-till practices found that the carbon benefits quickly fade away over time and reach nearly zero in 14 years. If so, this technique would do little to help counter carbon emissions from fuel combustion, which can persist in the atmosphere for centuries or more.

“US policy has a long history of asking how to continue justifying investment in ethanol rather than taking a clear-eyed approach to evaluating whether or not ethanol helps us reach our climate goals,” Chay wrote in an email. “In this case, I think scrutiny is warranted around the choice to lean on agricultural practices with uncertain and variable benefits in a way that could unlock the next tranche of public funding for corn ethanol.”

There are many other paths for producing SAFs that are or could be less polluting than ethanol. For example, they can be made from animal fats, agriculture waste, forest trimmings, or non-food plants that grow on land unsuitable for commercial crops. Other companies are developing various types of synthetic fuels, including electrofuels produced by capturing carbon from plants or the air and then combining it with cleanly sourced hydrogen. 

But all these methods are much more expensive than extracting and refining fossil fuels, and most of the alternative fuels will still produce more emissions when they’re used than the amount that was pulled out of the atmosphere by the plants or processes in the first place. 

The best way to think of these fuels is arguably as a stopgap, a possible way to make some climate progress while smart people strive to develop and build fully emissions-free ways of quickly, safely, and reliably moving things and people around the globe.