Last week, the New York Times reported on an exciting new energy project that is scheduled to begin testing off the coast of Oregon in early October. A company called Ocean Power Technologies is going to lower a 260-ton generator into the Pacific ocean, just 2.5 miles from the shore, in order to capture renewable energy from waves. The buoy generator will link up to the grid and, if it works, could generate enough electricity to power 1,000 homes.
Like many new experiments in renewable energy, the Oregon project was partially funded by a grant from the Department of Energy. In previous decades, the Department of Energy drove basic research by operating giant government-funded labs, but under the leadership of Energy Secretary and Nobel Laureate Steven Chu, the agency has transformed itself into something different: the biggest, greenest venture capital firm in the world.
After receiving an unprecedented surge in funding for renewable energy courtesy of the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act, Chu set to work hiring big names from the nation's top research laboratories, in order to staff a new agency called ARPA-E, modeled after DARPA, the R&D wing of the Pentagon. In just three years, ARPA-E has made more than 180 investments in basic research projects in renewable energy, and that's in addition to grants issued by the Department of Energy proper, like the one that funded the Ocean Power Technologies project in Oregon.
Michael Grunwald, a veteran reporter for TIME Magazine, is the author of The New New Deal, a new book that details the history of the much-maligned American Recovery and Reinvestment Act (commonly referred to as the Stimulus bill). In preparing to write The New New Deal, Grunwald did extensive research on the Department of Energy's Stimulus-funded quest to uncover an energy alternative to fossil fuels. Recently, I talked to Grunwald about his new book and the "silent green revolution" that is currently underway at the Department of Energy.
The New New Deal is a narrative about President Obama and his $800 billion stimulus bill, but it also has an argument. Can you quickly lay out the argument, and specifically how it relates to research and clean energy?
Grunwald: Sure. The argument is that everything you think you know about the stimulus is wrong. It was not a pathetic failure. It helped prevent a second depression and end a brutal recession in the short term; it was a huge down payment on Obama's campaign promises to transform the U.S. economy for the long term. But clean energy was the real outlier, getting $90 billion when the U.S. had been spending just a few billion a year. There were unprecedented investments in wind, solar, and other renewables; energy efficiency in every imaginable form; a smarter grid; cleaner coal; advanced biofuels; electric vehicles; the factories to build all that green stuff in the U.S., and yes, clean energy research.
That money has really launched a silent green revolution. For example, the renewable electricity industry was on the brink of death after the 2008 financial meltdown; the Spanish wind developer Abengoa had shut down its U.S. projects, and turbines were literally rusting in the fields. The day the stimulus passed, Abengoa announced it was investing $6 billion in U.S. wind farms. When Obama took office, we had 25 gigawatts worth of wind power in the U.S., and the official federal energy forecast called for 40 gigs by 2030. It's now 2012, and we already have 50 gigs. The stimulus also jump-started the smart electric grid. It created an advanced battery industry for electric vehicles almost entirely from scratch. And so on.
An airborne wind turbine from Makani Power, which has received ARPA-E funding (Makani).
In the book you describe a new federal agency, ARPA-E, a stimulus-funded incubator for alternative energy technologies that is the brainchild of Secretary of Energy Steven Chu. Can you describe how ARPA-E came into being?
Grunwald: The stimulus didn't create vast new armies of government workers at alphabet agencies like the WPA or CCC; ARPA-E was its only new agency, with a staff the size of a major-league baseball roster. But it's a really cool agency, the kind of place where Q from the James Bond movies would want to work. It actually had its roots in the Bush administration, when Chu served on a National Academy of Sciences panel on American competitiveness that released a report called Rising Above the Gathering Storm; one of its recommendations was an energy research agency modeled on the legendary DARPA at the Pentagon. The idea was to finance out-of-the-box, high-risk experiments, like an early-stage venture capital firm. Congress authorized it, but never gave it money to launch until the stimulus.
The early days at ARPA-E were pretty insane. Its first couple of employees had to put out its first solicitation, and it was inundated with 3700 applications for its first 37 grants, which crashed the federal computer system. But they attracted an absurdly high-powered team of brainiacs: a thermodynamics expert from Intel, an MIT electrical engineering professor, a clean-tech venture capitalist who also taught at MIT. The director, Arun Majumdar, had run Berkeley's nanotechnology institute. His deputy, Eric Toone, was a Duke biochemistry professor and entrepreneur. Arun liked to say that it was a band of brothers; I like to think of it as a $400 million Manhattan Project tucked inside the $800 billion stimulus.
ARPA-E has spent a lot of money on the search for new biofuels, in particular a special algae-based biofuel brought about by a synthetic, high-efficiency version of photosynthesis. What distinguishes these fuels from corn-based fuels, which are often criticized as being as wasteful as fossil fuels?
Grunwald: As you may know I'm a biofuels skeptic. I wrote a TIME cover story titled "The Clean Energy Scam" that sounded the first big warning that farm-based biofuels--not just corn ethanol but palm oil, soy biodiesel, and anything else that used arable land--were ecological disasters in the making. When we put food in our gas tanks, we end up pillaging carbon-storing wetlands and rain forests to grow more food. But the stimulus included massive investments in second-generation biofuels made from farm waste, municipal trash, and other feedstocks that don't need farmland.
ARPA-E is also investigating more futuristic biofuels. I tell a story in my introduction about how Chu was skeptical of photosynthesis. It's been working pretty well for the last 3.5 billion years, but Chu thought it was too inefficient to make fuel. So the ARPA-E brainiacs started thinking about it, and invented an entirely new scientific discipline that they've dubbed "electrofuels," essentially trying to genetically re-engineer exotic microbes that absorb energy without photosynthesis to produce fuel. It's pretty wild. They had no idea whether this stuff would actually work, but at last year's ARPA-E summit Majumdar held up a vial of electrofuel created in a North Carolina lab that has already powered a jet engine. Now the question is whether this kind of thing could be mass-produced at an affordable cost. As one of the ARPA-E guys told me: Now we know it works. We just don't know if it matters.
What other game-changing technologies have come out of ARPA-E?
Grunwald: It's still early, of course, and part of the excitement is that nobody knows which experiments will change the energy game. ARPA-E is financing projects to test better and cheaper batteries, more efficient air conditioners, new carbon capture and sequestration technologies, alternatives to rare-earth materials, and so on. Maybe electrofuels that bypass photosynthesis will be the next big thing; there's also a program that will try to manipulate photosynthesis to create Frankenplants that excrete crude oil. Most of the projects are going to fail, but a few success stories could transform the entire energy economy.
So far, more than a dozen ARPA-E-funded companies have already attracted follow-up venture funding. They're very excited about 1366 Technologies, which has developed a new solar manufacturing process. Basically, instead of slicing silicon ingots like salami, which is a difficult way to make wafers and wastes a lot of silicon dust, they're creating the wafers directly from liquid silicon like pancakes, which could cut the price of solar panels by a third. The other big winner so far is Envia Systems, which has developed the world's most powerful lithium-ion battery; it could slice $5000 off the cost of the second-generation Chevy Volt. But there are all kinds of exciting projects: lithium-air batteries that could put lithium-ion out to pasture someday, wind turbines shaped like jet engines, electric transformers the size of a suitcase instead of a kitchen, laser drilling technology that could cut costs of geothermal wells as well as petroleum wells. We'll see what pans out.
Is there a precedent for this kind of thing? Is there a history of government-funded basic research driving innovation in energy?
Grunwald: Yes, and one of the frustrations for Chu and other American scientists has been watching technologies developed in the United States with federal assistance--photovoltaic solar panels, lithium-ion batteries, modern wind turbines--drift abroad, both on the manufacturing side and the adoption side. Government investment played a huge role in jump-starting the info-tech and bio-tech industries, and it's already playing a huge role in clean-tech.
And who ended up getting political credit for those successes?
Grunwald: If anyone, it was probably whoever happened to be holding the scissors at the ribbon-cutting. That's the nature of blue-sky research. The stimulus poured $10 billion in NIH, and already driving some exciting breakthroughs in cancer research, Alzheimers, genomics, and much more. But it's not like Obama is getting any credit. You invest in research because it's the right thing to do.
One of the arguments for serious government investment in alternative energy is the relative dearth of private sector investment in alternatives to fossil fuels. What does the R&D scene look like for alternative energy in the private sector?
Grunwald: Well, before the stimulus, it was abysmal; biotech firms like Amgen and Genentech had larger R&D budgets than the entire energy sector. And the Energy Department's research budget had dropped 85% in constant dollars over three decades. The stimulus helped jump-start new industries, like the smart grid, but I think it's too early to say whether the public and private sectors will continue to invest in the R&D side.
Reuters
You make a persuasive case that under Steven Chu the Department of Energy shifted from a typical government agency to something like a venture capital firm. Let's talk about Solyndra, the failed solar company and $500 million black eye for the Recovery Act, and the Department of Energy. Was Solyndra an outlier?
Grunwald: It wasn't an outlier and it wasn't a scandal. It was a loan that went bad, something that happens to any lender. If the clean-energy loan program--which was created during the Bush administration to encourage investment in innovative green enterprises--had a perfect record, that probably would indicate it was making overly conservative loans that didn't require public assistance.
A few reminders about Solyndra: It was an incredibly innovative company with an entirely new approach to solar, and it attracted $1 billion in private capital. The Bush administration selected it from among 143 applicants for the program's first loan; it didn't quite get completed before Bush left office, but it was at the top of the pile when Obama took over, and Republican investigators found nothing in the 300,000 pages of documents they subpoenaed to suggest there was anything hinky or political about the decision to award the loan. The company had an impressive customer list, from Frito-Lay to Southern California Edison, and its revenues were soaring when it failed. Its problem was a spectacular drop in solar prices, which was terrible for its business model as a manufacturer, but great for the U.S. solar industry, which has increased installations 600 percent since the stimulus passed.
Again, it was inevitable that some of these loans would fail; as one White House official pointed out to me, some students who get Pell Grants end up drunks on the street. But it's not like the Obama administration just invested in Solyndra. A review led by John McCain's finance chairman found that overall, the $40 billion loan portfolio is doing fine; it's got reserves to cover half a dozen Solyndra-style failures, and it's financing the world's largest wind farm, a half dozen of the world's largest solar farms, America's first cellulosic biofuel refineries, and much more. The larger point is that the stimulus isn't really picking winners and losers in the traditional sense; it's picking the game of clean energy, and financing thousands of different entrepreneurial and technological approaches to the problem, so that the market can pick the winners and losers. For example, the stimulus created a domestic advanced battery industry for electric vehicles from scratch, financing 30 different factories, a classic case of industrial policy. But it also financed all kinds of biofuels that will compete with electric vehicles, and more fuel-efficient internal combustion engines, and research into lightweighting, and so forth.
The larger goal is to reduce our dependence on foreign petro-thugs, our carbon emissions, and our vulnerability to price shocks, while creating millions of jobs in new industries of the future. There ought to be great debates about that. But we've been stuck in an imaginary debate about crony capitalism and waste.
Do you worry about the political and institutional resilience of ARPA-E? The conventional wisdom is that the Department of Energy got locked into this Cold War driven lab structure, with these big national labs sucking up all the funding and becoming dedicated to prolonging their own existences more than anything else. ARPA-E was designed to be more nimble, and to operate more like a dynamic VC firm. But along with the downsides of the lab system, there are some serious upsides---in particular, the labs are big job creators in particular states, they have powerful connections and important people care about them. That gives them a kind of political and institutional resilience that I'm not sure ARPA-E will have.
Grunwald: It's a legitimate fear. But so far, ARPA-E may be the only creation of the stimulus that Republicans don't hate. It got follow-up funding at a time when dozens of other traditionally bipartisan line items--unemployment benefits, middle-class tax cuts, health IT, and so forth--became partisan political footballs because Republicans wanted to kill everything in the stimulus. Mitt Romney constantly attacks Obama's green energy policies, but he has said he supports ARPA-E. And he did have a similar venture fund when he was governor of Massachusetts; it had some Solyndra-type failures, but it also financed a company that became BigBelly Solar, which makes awesome solar-powered garbage compactors. Thanks to the stimulus, BigBellies are becoming quite common in national parks and major cities.
I know that battery technology has been a huge focus for the Energy Department---is the stimulus bill going to give us iPhones that last a week on a single charge?
Grunwald: ARPA-E has very specific targets for electric vehicle batteries, and Envia is hitting them. But you never know what you're going to find. One stimulus-funded company that's gotten a lot of bad press is A123 Systems, which had some big problems with its batteries for the Fisker Karma, and is now getting taken over by a Chinese firm. But while he was working on A123's batteries, the MIT scientist who founded the company, Yet-Ming Chiang, got an idea for an innovative "flow battery" that could someday store power for the entire grid. He got an ARPA-E grant, and he's raised some follow-up VC cash. Another stimulus-funded company, Solazyme, is using algae to make fuel. It's already supplying the Navy's Green Fleet, but it's just getting started, and it doesn't have the kind of scale to compete on a level playing field with fossil fuels. But Solazyme recently went public, because it's using the same technology to make anti-aging creams, which it can sell for about 1000 times the price of fuel. And those revenues could buy it time to cut its fuel costs.
In the book you note that the Department of Energy, which had a $1.2 billion dollar budget for renewables and efficiency, received a $16.4 Billion infusion as a result of the Recovery Act. That's an enormous increase. What kinds of issues did the Department of Energy run into when it came time to spend these huge, budget-multiplying infusions of cash?
Grunwald: If I can indulge in a bit of self-promotion, I think your readers will really enjoy this part of my book. I think The New New Deal is a great yarn, and the fly-on-the-wall stuff inside the White House and the halls of Congress have gotten a lot of press. But some of my favorite scenes take place in the bowels of the department, where Chu and a McKinsey partner try to shake up a sclerotic bureaucracy to ramp up 144 programs to stimulus speed, where one of the founders of SunEdison tries to shake up a flailing weatherization division known as "The Turkey Farm," where Rahm Emanuel pitches a fit about the slow pace of the smart grid. Some of the stories sound like real-life Dilbert cartoons. But some of them are quite inspiring.
Obviously it takes time to convert the insights of fundamental research into scalable technologies. When do you expect the benefits of ARPA-E to trickle out to the public?
Grunwald: I think they should start to trickle out over the next few years. For example, 1366 has already "graduated" from ARPA-E to a loan guarantee; now it's building its first factory. If Obama is reelected, he should have some fun breakthroughs to celebrate in his second term. And I suspect that if Romney wins, he'll be only too happy to take credit for the celebrations on his watch.
Ross Andersen is a senior editor at The Atlantic, where he oversees the Science, Technology, and Health sections. He was previously deputy editor of Aeon Magazine.
Testifying on Capitol Hill Tuesday, the attorney general rebuffed suggestions he wasn’t giving complete answers and pledged to defend himself “against scurrilous and false allegations” related to Russia.
Updated at 5:12 p.m. ET
Attorney General Jeff Sessions offered an aggressive defense of his conduct surrounding the Russia investigation on Tuesday, telling an open Senate hearing any allegations he had colluded with Moscow to undermine the election were an “appalling and detestable lie” and that he would not stand by while others suggested he had committed any wrongdoing.
“I recused myself from any investigation into the campaigns for president, but I did not recuse myself from defending my honor against scurrilous and false allegations,” he told senators in a raised tone, as he read his opening statement. “At all times throughout the course of the campaign, the confirmation process, and since becoming attorney general, I have dedicated myself to the highest standards.”
The attorney general says he was acting as a senator, but a review of his activities that summer shows ambassadors seeking him out as a Trump surrogate.
It can be hard to get a straight answer out of Attorney General Jeff Sessions.
When Senator Al Franken asked then-Senator Sessions at his Senate confirmation hearing on January 10 whether he “communicated with the Russian government,” he said, “I'm not aware of any of those activities.” Unprompted, Sessions then went further, saying, “I have been called a surrogate at a time or two in that campaign and I didn't have—did not have communications with the Russians, and I'm unable to comment on it.” Then less than two months later, on March 1, The Washington Postreported that Sessions had, in fact, met with Russian Ambassador Sergey Kislyak—not once, but twice.
It was a serious omission, especially for the nation’s top law-enforcement officer, and one who is a vocal advocate for law and order. Scrambling to contain the damage, Sessions issued a statement that attempted to draw a very subtle distinction. Calling the report “false,” he said that he had “never met with any Russian officials to discuss issues of the campaign.” His spokeswoman, Sarah Isgur Flores, spelled it out even more clearly: “He was asked during the hearing about communications between Russia and the Trump campaign—not about meetings he took as a senator and a member of the Armed Services Committee,” she said. (In fact, Franken had made no such qualification.) And a White House official insisted that Sessions had “met with the ambassador in an official capacity as a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee,” not a campaign surrogate.
His party must wrestle with its demons before its brand of leftist populism has a chance to change Britain.
In the days since British Prime Minister Theresa May’s disastrous snap election, the Labour Party and its leader, Jeremy Corbyn, have been taking in the sheer surprise of their upset near-victory: gaining 30 seats after being down some 20 points in the polls only weeks ago. While May’s Conservatives won the most seats in the election—an election the prime minister expected would give her a mandate to negotiate the U.K.’s exit from the EU—they fell short of an outright majority.
May is no doubt competent, but she campaigned so disastrously that her astronomical lead evaporated in less than two weeks. Like Hillary Clinton in America last November, she offered the same microwaved establishment gruel that nearly everyone on both ends of the spectrum has been gagging on for years. Corbyn, by contrast, was, like Donald Trump, the underdog populist from beyond the Westminster bubble, known for jousting with the political class in both parties.
A new study finds that people today who eat and exercise the same amount as people 20 years ago are still fatter.
There’s a meme aimed at Millennial catharsis called “Old Economy Steve.” It’s a series of pictures of a late-70s teenager, who presumably is now a middle-aged man, that mocks some of the messages Millennials say they hear from older generations—and shows why they’re deeply janky. Old Economy Steve graduates and gets a job right away. Old Economy Steve “worked his way through college” because tuition was $400. And so forth.
We can now add another one to that list: Old Economy Steve ate at McDonald’s almost every day, and he still somehow had a 32-inch waist.
A study published recently in the journal Obesity Research & Clinical Practice found that it’s harder for adults today to maintain the same weight as those 20 to 30 years ago did, even at the same levels of food intake and exercise.
Tom Perriello and Ralph Northam are attempting to bridge divides in a primary for governor that will test what liberal voters want in the Trump era.
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA— Enthusiastic supporters of Ralph Northam, a candidate vying for the Democratic nomination in the Virginia governor’s race, gathered for a get-out-the-vote rally over the weekend at a campaign field office where handmade posters on the wall read: “Dear Ralph, you had me at Trump is a ‘narcissistic maniac.’”
The Virginia primary race, which will be decided on Tuesday, offers a glimpse at how Democrats are attempting to calibrate their message and agenda in the Trump era.
Attacks on the president have featured prominently in the Democratic primary as liberal voters angry and unhappy with the administration in Washington look for politicians to channel that energy.
Tom Perriello, a former Democratic congressman facing off against Northam, promised that Virginia “will remain the firewall” against Trump when he jumped into the race in January. In May, Northam, the state’s lieutenant governor who has been described as “mild-mannered” and “genteel” over the course of his political career, offered a controversial diagnosis of the president in a campaign ad. “I’m listening carefully to Donald Trump, and I think he’s a narcissistic maniac,” he says, looking at the camera. “Whatever you call him, we’re not letting him bring his hate into Virginia.”
In her moving new memoir, the writer explores desire, denial, and life in an “unruly body.”
What is often deemed the most intoxicating part of weight-loss stories is the moment of triumph. Think, confetti showering the winning contestant on a reality show, a newly svelte celebrity swimming inside their “fat” jeans, or Oprah underscoring in a Weight Watchers ad that she can, in fact, eat bread every day. At a time when there is no shortage of recommendations for women on how to discipline or make peace with their bodies, Roxane Gay’s book, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body, stands out precisely because she begins it by declaring that she hasn’t overcome her “unruly body and unruly appetites.”
Hunger is about weight gained and lost and gained—at her heaviest Gay weighed 577 pounds. It’s also about so much more: the body she built to shield herself from the contempt of men and her own sense of shame, her complex relationship with parents who took great interest in solving her weight “problem,” and what it has meant for her to be highly visible and yet feel unseen. She describes much of her ongoing struggle with weight and trauma as a result of being gang-raped at the age of 12 in the woods near her home in Nebraska. “People see bodies like mine and make their assumptions. They think they know the why of my body. They do not,” she writes. “I ate and ate and ate in the hopes that if I made myself big, my body would be safe.” The story of Roxane Gay’s body did not begin with this violation of her innocence, but it was the fracture that would come to define her relationship with food, desire, and denial for decades.
She lived with us for 56 years. She raised me and my siblings without pay. I was 11, a typical American kid, before I realized who she was.
The ashes filled a black plastic box about the size of a toaster. It weighed three and a half pounds. I put it in a canvas tote bag and packed it in my suitcase this past July for the transpacific flight to Manila. From there I would travel by car to a rural village. When I arrived, I would hand over all that was left of the woman who had spent 56 years as a slave in my family’s household.
Frustrated by the failures in his field, Tom Insel, a former director of the National Institute of Mental Health, is now trying to reduce the world’s anguish through the devices in people’s pockets.
Sometime around 2010, about two-thirds of the way through his 13 years at the helm of the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH)—the world’s largest mental-health research institution—Tom Insel started speaking with unusual frankness about how both psychiatry and his own institute were failing to help the mentally ill. Insel, runner-trim, quietly alert, and constitutionally diplomatic, did not rant about this. It’s not in him. You won’t hear him trash-talk colleagues or critics.
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Yet within the bounds of his unbroken civility, Insel began voicing something between a regret and an indictment. In writings and public talks, he lamented the pharmaceutical industry’s failure to develop effective new drugs for depression, bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia; academic psychiatry’s overly cozy relationship with Big Pharma; and the paucity of treatments produced by the billions of dollars the NIMH had spent during his tenure. He blogged about the failure of psychiatry’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders to provide a productive theoretical basis for research, then had the NIMH ditch the DSM altogether—a decision that roiled the psychiatric establishment. Perhaps most startling, he began opening public talks by showing charts that revealed psychiatry as an underachieving laggard: While medical advances in the previous half century had reduced mortality rates from childhood leukemia, heart disease, and aids by 50 percent or more, they had failed to reduce suicide or disability from depression or schizophrenia.
“As scientists we have a responsibility to be accurate about such comparisons.”
At the annual meeting of the Geological Society of America, Smithsonian paleontologist Doug Erwin took the podium to address a ballroom full of geologists on the dynamics of mass extinctions and power grid failures—which, he claimed, unfold in the same way.
“These are images from the NOAA website of the US blackout in 2003,” he said, pulling up a nighttime satellite picture of the glowing northeastern megalopolis, megawatts afire under the cold dark of space. “This is 20 hours before the blackout. You can see Long Island and New York City.”
“And this is seven hours into the blackout,” he said, pulling up a new map, cloaked in darkness. “New York City is almost dark. The blackout extended all the way up into Toronto, all the way out to Michigan and Ohio. It covered a huge section of both Canada and the United States. And it was largely due to a software bug in a control room in Ohio.”
A surge of death-cap poisonings might provide the data to save future victims.
It’s been a good year for rain in California, which means it's been a good year for mushrooms. Which also means it has not been a good year when it comes to mushroom poisonings.
Over just two weeks in December, the California Poison Control System logged 14 cases of death-cap mushroom poisonings in the northern half of the state, according to a report this month. Previously, it’s gotten only a few a year. The death cap (Amanita phalloides), which is native to Europe, is one of the most poisonous mushrooms in the world. Three of the victims required liver transplants. One of them, an 18-month-year-old girl, suffered permanent brain damage.
But this recent spate of poisonings may also have something to teach doctors: Some of these cases add to data points in a long-running clinical trial for a drug to treat death-cap poisoning.