Bad Energy

Although the social and environmental costs of renewable energy technologies are often gestured at parenthetically in left discourse about climate action, they are rarely given serious and sustained attention. It is generally assumed that because a rapid transition to renewables is necessary to avoid full-on climate disaster, we will simply have to accept these costs without too much critical scrutiny. In an interview with Spectre’s Dan Boscov-Ellen, Joshua Frank draws on his recent book Bad Energy: The AI Hucksters, Rogue Lithium Extractors, and Wind Industrialists Who Are Selling Off Our Future (Haymarket 2026) to highlight the dangers of that assumption.¹

Joshua Frank is the managing editor at CounterPunch. He is an investigative journalist and author of the recent award-winning book Atomic Days: The Untold Story of the Most Toxic Place in America (Haymarket, 2022).

Thank you for speaking with me again, and congratulations on the publication of your new book Bad Energy. The book is a sobering look at the environmental costs of the transition to renewables that explores those made expendable in the name of combatting climate change and pushes us to reckon with the material constraints on any construction of a sustainable postcapitalist future. Challenging the complacent path-dependency of much left energy politics without laying out a detailed blueprint for an alternative makes this a potentially unpopular line of questioning; people may not want to confront the harms involved in the only climate solutions that seem to be on offer, especially when there seems to already be so little to feel hopeful about at the moment. What prompted you to take up this project? And were there things that particularly surprised you as you began your research?

I live in California. I grew up in the West, in Montana. The majority of public lands in this country managed by the Bureau of Land Management are in the West; there are 240-some million acres that are managed by the BLM. And many of these huge so-called green energy projects are being built on these public lands. In California, for instance, a lot of big solar farm projects are popping up in the Mojave Desert. I spend a lot of time in those areas, and I see the impact that they’re having.

On a very personal level, when my wife and I moved into our current house, we adopted an endangered desert tortoise that had been living here. It was probably stolen from the Mojave decades ago, but it’s been living here through three different residents. So we’ve gotten to know this desert tortoise really well. When I started learning about what some of these big energy projects are doing to desert tortoise habitat, I really felt like I needed to tell the story and defend these creatures, which have been out there for millions of years and we’ve put them on the brink of extinction in a hundred years. They’re an indicator species of an ecosystem in crisis.

Of course, it’s not just green energy projects; there’s been mining and grazing and drought and weapons testing and all sorts of things that have happened out there. But right now, this big push for green energy has made things much, much worse. So that was really the first thing that prompted me to think about approaching this project; I felt like I needed to do it in defense of this tortoise that I am a steward of here at home.

Obviously, I support a transition away from fossil fuels. So I’ve supported solar and wind projects. But what I didn’t realize until I started my research for the book is who is behind many of these projects or the scale of the moneyed interests involved. One that I write about in the book is an enormous wind project in Wyoming that is being funded by an oil billionaire. It’s going to be five hundred square miles, and they’re going to build a seven-hundred-plus mile long transmission line called the Transwest Express that’s going to transmit that power from Wyoming to California. That was just mind boggling to me.

Wind energy in and of itself is not a bad thing, but a huge wind project like this that is four or five states away seems completely crazy to me. And when I visited the town where that project is being built and I talked to residents there, they feel the same way—that this is just another example of resource exploitation in their state. There are many other examples like that. So I started looking at the nuances of some of these technologies and who benefits from implementing them in one way versus another, which was enlightening to me, and hopefully will be to readers.

One of the themes of the book is that focusing too narrowly on climate change can cause us to overlook other aspects of capitalist ecocide—particularly the biodiversity crisis, which is, as you note, “in many ways as serious as climate change itself.”² If you’re an oil billionaire who’s trying to diversify with more of an “all-of-the-above” energy strategy, as the Democrats like to say, then perhaps it makes good sense to frame things narrowly in terms of carbon alone. But some climate activists and sections of the left seem to do the same thing unintentionally. Are there ways to talk about and organize around the climate crisis without separating it from the broader context?

I think one of the traps that we fall into is thinking about the planet in a very binary way when it comes to the climate—a problem that has been made worse by the big green outfits that are almost solely focused on climate change. And of course, this isn’t to say that climate chaos isn’t real. It is. But we can fixate on it at the expense of a lot of other problems that are also happening concurrently: industrial farming and the pollution it causes, habitat loss, all sorts of things. So the first thing we need to do is start looking at planetary health holistically. Once we start to see that all these things are interconnected, and then look for answers to climate change that take the impacts of biodiversity and everything else into consideration, we start looking at the problem differently. When we destroy biodiversity (often in the service of capital accumulation), we’re doing so at the expense of the climate, because those deserts and rainforests act as carbon sinks in many cases, too. We can’t approach the answer to one of these problems at the expense of the other.

You take the same stance here when it comes to the social impacts of energy projects. You note that “more than half of critical mining projects are on or near Indigenous lands,” and throughout the book you cover a number of specific examples where the buildout of renewables is harming Indigenous communities and, in some cases, making their existing ways of life impossible.³ This focus contrasts with the predominant approach of the social-democratic left in this country, which generally prefers to ignore or downplay such concerns as identarian and politically inconvenient. Why have you centered them here, and how do they connect to the larger argument of the book?

I think if we’re talking about the fossil fuel industry and the impacts that coal mining or oil production have on people, we don’t have the same kind of conversation. There, everybody on the left would agree we need to oppose these things because they’re polluting resources, they’re poisoning water, they’re destroying communities. Well, then why can’t we use that same framework to analyze so-called green energy projects?

For example, I have done a lot of work with folks in the Navajo Nation working against uranium mining, talking to people that have been impacted by that industry, which is being resurrected under the guise of climate change. One of the things that we need to do when we’re looking at all of these projects is to give it the same attention and criticism that we would to the fossil fuel industry, because many of the impacts on the ground for these communities is very similar.

As you and I have discussed before, I also think that there is a lack of environmental ethic on parts of the left, and definitely a lack of respect for Indigenous cultures and Indigenous lifeways. There is so much we can learn from Indigenous cultures, but we also need to understand that if we’re not approaching where we get our energy in a critical way, it is going to play out like all of the earlier extractive, colonial episodes that have come before. As I detail throughout the book, these mining companies and other interests looking to profit off of the transition are using the same playbook that the fossil fuel industry has used. So we need to be critical in the same way that we would if we were talking about oil and gas production.

Part of that playbook is to frame so-called “nonproductive” uses of the land as “waste.” Even when it’s not explicitly stated, I think there’s often an attitude on parts of the left that sees Indigenous land and water protectors as irrationally obstructing necessary “progress”—a (possibly willful) misunderstanding of the concerns of Indigenous communities as they have been sounding the alarm about the dangers of repeating the same harms under a green banner if we fail to acknowledge and address the underlying causes. And those are not just capitalism and ongoing colonialism but a breakdown of proper relations and an unwillingness to acknowledge our full obligations to all those with whom we are in relation.

Often we are talking about how climate chaos is impacting these communities, but we should be talking about all of the things that are impacting these communities, and the book tries to highlight that.

While we’re talking about some of the ways that this book may push or challenge sections of the left, I wanted to ask about another inconvenient truth that you highlight in the book, which is that of non-Western imperialism. In particular, several prominent ecosocialist thinkers (I have in mind John Bellamy Foster and Jason Hickel, but there are numerous others) seem to have a real blind spot when it comes to the social and environmental harms of Chinese imperialism.⁴ Why do you think that is, and how should the left position itself vis-à-vis interimperial rivalries in global supply chains for renewables?

One thing that was very enlightening to me when doing research for the book was learning just how much of these so-called critical mineral resources globally are controlled by China and Chinese-backed companies. Congo is example of this: 80 percent of its copper and cobalt is controlled by Chinese interests. It’s a similar story in many other places in Africa and South America. This includes things like cobalt, copper, and nickel, as well as graphite, lithium, and rare earths. And not only do they control something like 70 percent of the world’s current critical mineral reserves, but they also control 90 percent of their refinement.

Of course, critical minerals are not just used in “green” technologies—they are used in military tech and AI chips and all sorts of things. They are increasingly crucial to the capitalist economic system, and so we have seen these geopolitical tensions arise over them, with Trump aiming to secure access to minerals by strong-arming countries through tariffs and threatening to withhold military aid, and so on.

But the opposition to the United States can mask the on-the-ground reality of Chinese mining, which is no less brutal than that of US-based corporations. When you start digging into it, you see that there is rampant abuse of miners that are many times children working in horrible conditions in toxic places. I have a lot of respect for Jason and John, but I think that it’s naive to see this relationship that China has with some of these places, which generally aren’t seeing the benefit of all this extraction, and to not to see that as a form of economic imperialism.

Of course, it’s not just mining in places like the Congo; China is funding huge so-called green energy projects all over the world. And on the surface, that might seem like a good thing for those places. China is loaning billions to construct well over three hundred huge hydroelectric dam projects in seventy countries under the guise of providing energy and creating jobs. But when you look at the fine print, you see that these loans are all resource-backed loans, which means in many of the cases the funding is tied to giving China access to critical minerals and other resources. So that also is a form of economic imperialism. If the United States or the IMF or the World Bank were doing it, that’s what we’d be calling it, right? And the United States certainly wishes that they had been doing this decades ago, because China is ahead of the game.

I don’t know where the ecosocialist thinkers have lost the narrative on this, but I hope that they can look at the reality on the ground and come to a different conclusion.

Although the book challenges various kinds of complacency that we find on the left, the point is not to argue that all renewable energy is inherently “bad” energy. No energy source is without impacts, but you note that “not all renewable energies are created equal.” For example, you suggest that solar and wind are generally less harmful than nuclear reactors and large dams. You also discuss how different approaches to these technologies can lower their impact (encouraging distributed rooftop solar rather than large solar farms in the Mojave, and so on). Some of this may be context dependent—if you’re in a place that has good wind corridors that are less frequented by migratory birds, maybe it makes sense to put wind there instead of in certain sensitive offshore habitats, for instance. But are there any overarching principles to keep in mind when thinking through our energy options?

I generally think local is better in many ways. Local communities have a better sense of their needs and of what their ecology means to them. I think about an example that I wrote about in the book, which is how these big solar projects in California are rolling out. In investigating that, I came to the conclusion that it is the big utility companies in California that wanted to destroy the rooftop solar program, which was making really great strides here in the state, because it wasn’t profitable to them. They are looking to maximize profits; they’re publicly traded companies, so there’s a fiduciary responsibility for them to provide endless returns on their investments. Rooftop solar was a threat to that; and so Gavin Newsom, who is in the back pocket of these big utilities, destroyed rooftop solar. And what they’ve done instead is to open up enormous swaths—millions and millions of acres—of public lands across the West to develop solar farms, in some cases in very ecological important areas.

So I think understanding that economic dynamic is important, first and foremost, before we even start talking about the nuances of these technologies and what those impacts might be at the local level. You can contrast the placelessness of capital with the people I talked to in the book, including people from a lot of different Native American communities. People, especially in rural communities, have a lot of ideas about what their needs are and how they could be met. There’s an example in the book of a community in Northern California that has very inconsistent energy. Yet there is no guarantee that this massive wind farm that’s being proposed off the coast of Northern California is going to help bring energy to that local community.

Those kind of contradictions, I think, are really important to look at. And this gets into larger questions of democratic decision-making. These communities, in many cases Indigenous communities, are once again being set up as “sacrifice zones,” only now in the name of green energy. Once we recognize that, then it seems clear that they should have a bigger say in what happens on those lands than, say, those who live hundreds of miles away who would enjoy the fruits of their resources.

In terms of what energy strategies we choose, of course it is partly geographically dependent. Obviously in parts of the US West, sun is very plentiful. I don’t really get into geothermal in the book, but in some places geothermal can be very efficient, but that not possible everywhere. But I think the main thing to keep in mind is that we can’t simply replace fossil fuels with green energy without interrogating the system itself, which is the capitalist system that promotes the myth of endless growth. That we don’t have endless resources on this planet, and no matter if it’s fossil fuels or green energy, there are limits to what we can take without doing irreparable harm. And the attention to the local helps us to see that, which is part of why thinking local is really important. It might be an oversimplification, but it’s a pretty good one.

I want to come back to the question of democratic decision-making in a moment, but first, can I quickly follow-up about the question of endless growth? You write that expansionism is “the foundation of capitalist ideology…markets (both foreign and domestic) require new territory and resources to grow.”⁵ A number of ecosocialist thinkers, from James O’Connor to Jason W. Moore, have argued that the finitude you’re highlighting here is at some point going to become a fatal problem for capitalism itself—that it’s going to run out of new frontiers and it won’t be able to sustain its growth.⁶ Renewable energy seems to be part of a new frontier of accumulation; you cite a mining analyst for BNEF arguing that “the energy transition could lead to a super-cycle for the metals and mining industry,” and you look at how capitalists are scouring the planet, including the depths of the ocean, for critical minerals (some now have their eyes set on asteroids, perhaps the true “final frontier”).⁷ Could this boom keep capitalism running, despite the harm to the planet?

In the immediate future, capitalism can absolutely run on this strategy of continuing burning fossil fuels, and also expanding the overall energy consumption, with renewables being a portion of that. In no way are we seeing renewables push fossil fuels out. I think that’s by intention, that’s by design. I don’t know how long that can go on despite the impacts that it will continue to have on the planet and people, but I suspect that it could still work for a long time.

If we’re talking geological time, yes, capitalism will eventually have to face physics—the reality that this planet has resources and sinks that are finite and at a certain point we will have exhausted them. I think left to its own devices, eventually capitalism will run into a wall that it doesn’t care about driving into, unfortunately. But we can’t wait for that moment to arrive on its own because we all live here, too; we need to come up with a better strategy to slow down, as Kohei Saito would say. To use less resources and try to live more equitably and comfortably. I write in the book that the world does have a population problem, and it’s the growing population of billionaires. Not regular people.

Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor have a new book coming out called End Times Fascism, and I gather that part of the argument is that many of these billionaires recognize that they’re destroying the world, but they think that they can insulate themselves and their progeny from an apocalypse that they themselves are hastening, perhaps intervening technologically where necessary to keep the profits flowing as long as possible (Elon Musk has been talking a lot about the need for geoengineering lately). On that note, one of the interesting sites of resistance today here in the United States at the moment is the growing popular movement against data centers. The companies relying on the AI boom do not want democratic oversight, and many of them are quite happy to embrace fascism—and to create the repressive technologies that enable it—if it allows them to keep profits flowing. In the book, you discuss Musk’s “we’ll coup whoever we want” attitude toward Bolivian lithium, but it’s clear that this applies equally in the imperial core too. Do you see anti-data-center organizing, which concerns the right of communities to have a say over what technological infrastructure is built and for what purposes, as a hopeful model of resistance to the narrative of inevitability the tech giants are promoting (with the help of some ecomodernists)? As it interacts with the climate movement and the fight for a free Palestine and so on, could this kind of popular movement begin to center the concerns raised in Bad Energy more comprehensively, or are there obstacles that would seem to preclude that possibility?

My hope is that people who may not have really analyzed the underlying economic system of climate chaos walk away from reading Bad Energy and begin to question more as they see that capitalism is still running the show. I think data centers is another great example of that; despite the supposedly intangible nature of the cloud, for many communities this is a very tangible thing that capitalism is throwing at us. I see the movement against data centers across this country as perhaps the biggest opening for the left and the environmental movement to fight big tech and this exploitative capitalism that is infiltrating our lives in the form of AI. I think we begin to understand capitalism in a different way when it’s in our own backyard, when big tech is in our own backyard using our resources. There are a lot of things with data centers that people talk about with energy use and water, and those are really important. But another that’s very rarely talked about is how how many critical minerals are needed in these data centers. You know, a big data center, for example, uses tens of thousands of pounds of copper, and that equates to more and more mining; mining for copper is exploding because copper is used in every green energy product, in transmission lines and batteries, as well as data centers.

When we fight data centers, we’re really fighting capitalism; we’re fighting a symptom of capitalism. So I’m really hopeful that we can use this movement against data centers as a tool to help educate people about the wrath of capitalism. Poll after shows that Americans don’t support data centers, and many polls are also starting to show that people look at socialism as being better than capitalism. So it’s our duty to provide that alternative, and to help connect the dots. But I’m really invigorated by this movement; it’s an exciting cross-section of all sorts of people, and if we are going to save this planet, we need that kind of mobilization to do it.

I agree, which makes it all the more baffling when ecosocialists like Matt Huber and Holly Buck come out against the anti-data-center protests as being somehow naïve or misinformed, arguing that what we really need is a socialist version of AI development.⁸ It seems not just ecologically wrongheaded, but incredibly politically short-sighted not to see the opening in this genuinely grassroots popular resistance to help advance a mass socialist politics based in local democratic decision-making about energy and growth. On that note, I have one final question for you. A central theme throughout the book is the importance of making informed decisions about the relative benefits and harms of various energy sources, and that leaving these decisions to capitalists is a recipe for disaster. Yet even democratic decision-making may fail to adequately register the interests of the nonhuman world and future generations when faced with the exigencies of present poverty (often the legacy of racialized and colonial exploitation). For example, as you detail in the book, some Indigenous communities are split on whether to support mining or infrastructure projects that could bring even temporary income. This pressure can understandably override concern for nonhuman beings and future generations. You mentioned earlier that you started this project in part because you felt a responsibility to speak for the desert tortoise you adopted (and to whose species this book is dedicated) because it can’t represent itself. Do you have any thoughts about how the interests of those who cannot speak for themselves, but who have a great deal at stake in these decisions, could be more consistently integrated into left energy politics?

To harken back to our discussion of Musk a moment ago, some of these billionaires do consider themselves to be environmentalists. The discourse of environmentalism isn’t exclusive to the left, and it can be a very slippery slope into ecofascism as resources are scarcer, things get worse, and capitalism continues to wreak havoc. So I think it is very important to challenge that through democratic processes, and to pull everybody into the conversation. The more people that are part of the conversation, the less chance there is of slipping into a sort of ecofascist hellscape.

It’s true that it is common for people to think first about the needs that are most pressing for them and their communities, and it’s easy to not connect that to the larger picture. It’s easy to be totally disconnected from the farmers that grow your food, or the people that assemble your iPhones, or the mines where the copper in your electric vehicle engine came from. Being more democratic about that process is inherently anticapitalist, because capitalism doesn’t want us to think about any of that: it doesn’t want us to be connected to the people that supply these things to us and the wreckage that is left behind. So I think part of our job as activists and as writers and as academics and people on the left is to bring those conversations forward for people. If we can do that, I think that we will ultimately have a bigger and deeper conversation about what’s really going on and what’s really at stake. And I think that we can together develop a better approach to this problem that we face.

Josh, thank you again for taking the time to speak with me. I hope people will pick up Bad Energy; I think it’s mandatory reading for those who want to understanding the constraints within which we’ll need to operate as we try to envision, and ultimately to build, a more sane and livable future.

Interview With Joshua Frank

Dan Boscov-Ellen

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