Why One-Third of Clean Energy Projects Fail Before Construction

A few days ago I wrote that roughly 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

The comments went predictably where these conversations usually go: turbine blades can't be recycled, wind and solar intermittency, transmission lines and eminent domain, and whether wind and solar “work.”

That’s not the interesting part. What’s interesting is what the reaction reveals about how these projects actually fail.

By the time a project shows up at a county commission, the debate is usually already over. Not formally. But functionally.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 775 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬—𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 25% 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬—𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

That didn’t happen at public hearings. That happened months or years earlier as local narratives took shape.

And it’s accelerating.

𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 500 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 49 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, some by organically concerned citizens and some manufactured by fossil fuel front groups.

Regardless, local restrictions on wind, solar, and storage have grown double digits year-over-year. In some analyses, 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 15% 𝐨𝐟 𝐔.𝐒. 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

This is not a technology problem. It’s not even primarily a policy problem. Politics being politics, however, this is a sequencing problem.

Developers enter the conversation at the permit stage and assume they are there to explain the project.

In reality, they are walking into a conversation that has already been framed by:

• Local concerns about land use and identity

• Organized advocacy groups with prepared narratives

• Neighbors talking to neighbors in small communities long before the first public meeting

By the time of the public hearings, facts don’t land the way developers expect them to because people aren’t deciding what to think. They’ve already decided, and the hearing just makes it visible.

We changed that dynamic during the fight to pass the Clean Fuel Standard in Washington State.

The debate wasn’t won on technical merits alone. Yes, research showed clean fuels made from used cooking oil, food, farm, and forest waste reduced transportation emissions significantly without raising gas prices. It turned when the credibility of the voices in the room became clear—who was speaking, and who they were speaking for.

• Small restaurant owners (largely African-American) who could count on a steady payment for their grease.

• Black church leaders who understood their parishioners were disproportionately affected by air pollution

• Dairy farmers suffering from low milk prices could benefit from capturing methane from cows and turning it into biogas.

• Timber communities could put people back to work turning forest slash into sustainable aviation fuel.

Those were the people we educated about the policy months before the bill was introduced at the state legislature, and those constituents had more sway over their elected officials than well-heeled fossil fuel lobbyists who were testifying at the state capitol that the clean fuel standard would raise gas prices and hurt the poor. 

That’s how these decisions move.

The clean energy transition isn’t just an engineering challenge (although my hat is off to those folks). It’s a local, political, narrative-driven process that starts long before a project is announced.

Developers who recognize that reality early get projects built. Developers who don’t are often surprised when the permit is denied, or can't even get on the docket.