Last week, at the Battery Day in the Netherlands, I heard a presentation by  Rob W. Postma , Managing Director of  Airbus  Netherlands. He told the story of how Airbus became a global leader by creating a European-wide collaboration that, within a few decades, managed to overtake Boeing.  Airbus didn’t try to build everything under one roof. Instead, it mastered the art of distributed manufacturing and cross-border collaboration—leveraging national strengths across Europe and binding them into one coherent whole.  The message of Mr Postma to the audience of battery professionals was simple - if we could do it, so can you. The “Moneyball & Moonshots” Perspective  An article by  Charlie Parker  on  BatteryTechOnline  put it nicely: the battery sector often swings between “moneyball” strategies—incremental efficiency gains and cost reductions—and “moonshots”—radical new chemistries and disruptive models. You can check it out here:  https://www.batterytechonline.com/battery-manufacturing/moneyball-moonshots-strategies-for-innovation-in-the-battery-industry .  What caught my attention most was the section on Contract Research Organisations (CROs) and “partners in success.” CROs in pharma showed how companies can outsource specialised R&D without losing speed or quality. Applied to batteries, that could mean new collaborative manufacturing models where specialised players share risk and scale together, rather than each company reinventing the entire value chain in-house.  This thinking is close to what I’ve been writing about over the past year: - Could a battery factory operate like a franchise? (spoiler: yes, if we design it right). - Can Europe build its industry not through copy-pasting Chinese gigafactories, but through leveraging its strengths in distributed supply chains? - Should we consider hub-and-spoke models that pool investment in cell factories, materials, and equipment across borders?  You can find these posts on my blog:  Franchise model   How to build a battery industry   Hub & Spoke Model   EU battery industry: a new hope   Why Europe Should Lead With Collaboration  Chinese and Korean champions perfected the vertically integrated gigafactory model. Europe is unlikely to beat them at their own game. But Europe has something different: a proven track record of collaborative industrial ecosystems—Airbus and ASML being prime examples.  This culture of distributed production, integration of highly specialised suppliers, and cross-border collaboration is precisely what the battery industry needs. Instead of each startup or OEM building its own silo, we can create networks of partners in success, each contributing to a shared outcome.  That could mean: - Electrode foundries serving multiple cell producers. - Shared R&D hubs acting like CROs for chemistry and process innovation. - Equipment makers embedding themselves not as vendors, but as co-developers of production lines. - A fabric of mid-sized specialised players forming a resilient European supply chain.  The (EU) Future Is Collaborative  More and more people are now questioning whether a future built solely on giant vertically integrated gigafactories is desirable—or even possible—in Europe. The alternative is not fragmentation, but orchestration: distributed but connected, specialised but aligned.  Just as Airbus showed, you can build a world leader by spreading production across many regions, if you master governance, quality, and integration.  For Europe’s battery industry, this might be the smarter “moneyball” path forward. And perhaps the only realistic “moonshot” too.  What do you think? Is the future of batteries in Europe built on one-roof gigafactories, or on collaborative industrial ecosystems? Or is there a future for Europe in the battery industry at all?

I stumbled across Martin Gallardo’s post and decided that it would be worthwhile to rewrite my comment into a full post. The consulting business has never been so good, but with the advent of AI, people were predicting that it would soon go out of business. I believe that these comments are made by people who either had a very negative experience hiring consultants (I had that experience, too) or have no idea what they are talking about. I’ve seen three very different ways in which top-tier consultants like McKinsey, BCG or Roland Berger are used inside large corporations, and AI can’t replace any of them. First: the “cover-your-ass” document Hiring McKinsey can serve as management’s indulgence—if the strategy fails, the blame is safely outsourced to a glossy consultant report. Second: the battering ram When I once developed a new strategy, my boss said: *“Let’s hire McKinsey first. The board won’t believe it if it comes from us—but they’ll approve it if McKinsey puts their logo on it.”* Sometimes, you need that external stamp of authority. Third: genuine value creation. I worked with Roland Berger for a couple of years, and they exceeded my and everyone else's expectations. They didn’t just deliver a report (they did, and it was great in itself). They embedded themselves into our business, became part of the team, established a project management and reporting mechanism for a $1B project that didn’t require our teams to fill out endless time-sheets or status reports, and at the same time provided clear visibility of the project status to the C-suite. I’ve written more about that experience here . Now, the top-tier consultants cost a fortune. McKinsey rarely bills less than $2M for any kind of work. The cheapest offers I saw from other top-tire firms were never less than $300K. If you’re a startup or scale-up, you don’t need to spend millions to get this kind of insight. I work with founders and investors to bridge the gap between technology and large-scale deployment—without the overhead of Big Three pricing. If that sounds relevant, reach out—I’d be glad to help!

This was my second Battery Day in the Netherlands. Last year I came for the first time and was surprised at how much battery innovation is happening here. This year the event was bigger, much better organised, and had over 600 participants. It also gained an international dimension — with Matthieu Hubert from ACC giving a keynote on the French sector, and a dedicated session on cooperation with China. A few takeaways: 1) Scaling Dutch startups means going international. The government recognises that startups like LeydenJar, E-Magy and LionVolt cannot scale alone in the Netherlands. They need cross-border financing, partnerships with Asian manufacturers, and access to larger markets. 2) The ASML / Airbus model was mentioned several times. The call was clear: Dutch battery companies should think beyond national borders and build supplier and manufacturing networks across Europe and beyond. With more than 20,000 new industrial customers unable to connect today to the Dutch grid, massive local scale-up is out of question. 3) Push without pull. Subsidies, grants and shared facilities provide a useful push, but almost no “pull” measures exist to create a stable demand for battery technologies in the Netherlands. That gap remains critical. 4) China's cooperation was openly debated. The consensus was “yes, there should be cooperation” — but with risk management in mind. My own question to the panel on what happens in the event of a blockade or invasion of Taiwan added a layer: diversifying suppliers and technological partnerships with Korea and Japan. 5) Recycling is everywhere in the discussion. Circularity matters, but with low volumes of retired batteries expected for at least a decade, the current attention to recycling feels like a safe distraction from harder conversations about scaling and the pain points of decarbonisation. And, of course, the best part: meeting many colleagues and making new connections — Rene Vounckx, Ashley Cooke, Kevin Brundish, Casper Peeters, Elena Orlova, Andre Schilt, Mustafa Amhaouch, Ellen Jacobs, Gunjan Kapadia, Man Yong Toh and many others, it was great to see and connect with you! Battery Day 2025 showed both the ambition and the constraints of the Dutch and European battery ecosystem. Scaling climate technologies remains the real frontier.

When I first started working on climate hardware, I thought in terms of one valley of death. You raise early money, build a prototype, and then you face the brutal task of scaling up manufacturing. If you survive that stage, you have a shot at becoming a real business. Talking to Dirk Singer, author of Sustainability in the Air, made me realise that aviation startups face not one but three valleys of death. That difference explains why progress in aviation feels so much slower than in energy, batteries, or transport. The paradox of aviation emissions Today, aviation accounts for roughly 2.5–3% of global CO₂ emissions. A small slice compared to power generation or road transport. Dirk points out that this share is set to rise to over 20% by 2050 as other sectors decarbonise faster. The paradox in aviation is that it is relatively small in size but disproportionately hard to clean up. Physics, regulation, and industry structure all conspire to slow it down. Here is how Dirk describes these three valleys and my takeaways. “Valley one is the product risk: does the technology even work in the real world?” This is not like shipping an app or even launching a new battery cell. In aviation, the baseline is safety at 30,000 feet. Certification cycles run 7–10 years, and a promising lab prototype is only the beginning of a decade-long journey. Only a handful of electric or hydrogen aircraft have flown at all, and those are small prototypes. Getting from the first flight to a certifiable aircraft is a leap few survive. “Valley two is the commercial risk: can you secure real customers, not just pilot projects?” An airline agreeing to a pilot (no pun intended) is not the same as signing a binding contract for a fleet of new aircraft. Airlines operate on tight margins, and their willingness to bet on unproven technology is low. Compare this to wind or solar, where offtake contracts are well established. In aviation, offtakes are rare and often symbolic. Universal Hydrogen managed some test flights and had great press coverage. But when the time came to turn MOUs into orders, investor confidence collapsed. The company shut down last year despite raising over $100 million. “Valley three is the scale risk: can you build and deliver reliably, under budget and at volume?” Even if you have a working aircraft and a first customer, you still face the Everest of industrialisation. Dirk used the example of Elysian, a Dutch electric aircraft startup. Their 90-seater design could take $5–8 billion to bring to market, with realistic service entry no earlier than 2033. That number dwarfs the capital needs of most climate hardware projects. And it explains why, outside of eVTOL, only five aviation startups worldwide have ever raised more than $100 million. Beyond hype Aviation is a test of patience. Investors accustomed to 5-year exits in SaaS or AI will find the timelines unbearable. And yet, if we ignore aviation, its emissions share will balloon as other sectors clean up. Dirk’s framework of the three valleys is a reminder that hype won’t carry us through. Only staged capital, credible execution, and realistic timelines will. And perhaps the hardest truth: success in aviation may not look like disruption from a startup, but gradual infiltration of sustainable fuels, small-scale electrification, and eventually, a reshaped industry. Watch the full interview with Dirk Singer here:

I’m in France for a short stay this week. By pure luck, I arrived after one wave of protests had just finished and before another was about to begin. The mood in the news has been mostly gloomy lately. But in between the headlines, I stumbled upon an Economist article that points to something France rarely gets credit for: boring business excellence. Take Danone, Orange, and Société Générale. Hardly the stuff of tech conferences, yet their share prices have risen 15%, 40%, and 100% since January—making them the best performers globally in their respective industries. Mid-sized French firms? The MSCI index tracking them is up 15% this year, triple the CAC 40 and even outpacing the NASDAQ, despite all the AI hype. Then there are the industrial stalwarts—EDF, Veolia, Vinci, Schneider Electric, Saint-Gobain, and Legrand. They're not flashy, but collectively, they’ve been growing, making profits, and leading their industries globally since 2019—the quiet compounding at its best. And for those who prefer something with a shinier label: the only European AI startup with real global visibility, Mistral, is Paris-based. So while France struggles with protests and political malaise, its “dull” companies are quietly powering ahead. Sometimes, boring is the winning strategy. À bientôt!

In 2021, specialist climate tech VC funds raised a record $10B across 79 funds. Fast forward to 2025, and the picture looks very different: - As of August, only $2.1B has been raised across 17 funds – a trajectory that would barely reach one-third of 2024’s total. - Fund count has collapsed from 94 in 2022 to fewer than 20 so far this year. - Mid-sized funds ($100–500M) are now carrying most of the market, while billion-dollar climate funds have virtually disappeared. What happened? 📉 US policy uncertainty (tariffs, reduced federal climate support) froze fundraising in early 2025. 📉 Broader VC downturn means climate funds are competing for a shrinking pool of LP capital. 📉 Shift in fund sizes shows investors prefer mid-sized, more agile vehicles instead of mega-funds. Still, it’s not all bad news. Even at today’s reduced levels, climate funds represent a growing share of global VC fundraising (3.8% in 2025 vs. <1% in 2015). And outside the US, European and Asian LPs remain committed to long-term climate strategies. The market is cooling, but the fundamentals of climate tech haven’t changed: scaling batteries, renewables, efficiency, and resilience still require patient capital. The real question is whether today’s smaller, more selective funds can deliver the breakthroughs that the $10B mega-funds of 2021 promised. This post is based on the 2025 Climate Tech Funds Report by PitchBook.

Ten years ago, I made a decision: the global problem I would devote my professional life to solving would be climate change. My way of contributing would be to help scale credible, proven, and economically viable climate technologies. Looking back, I have been fortunate to play a role in scaling wind energy and lithium-ion batteries. These are now mainstream industries. But in my private life, the story was different. I kept driving a diesel car. I ruled out solar panels for my country home. I kept flying. The income I made was never enough to justify switching to cleaner alternatives. The only real personal change I made was ditching my car after moving to Turkey. This gap between the professional and the personal is telling. Solar panels have become cheaper, but most climate technologies still look like toys for the rich. Heat pumps are efficient and climate-friendly, but their rollout has been slowed by high upfront costs and low spark-spreads. EVs are finally approaching mass affordability — even European manufacturers are now selling decent models under €30K — yet something still feels out of sync. Belief vs. Agency Public attitudes have shifted. Ten years ago, climate change was not real for many. Today, most people I speak with acknowledge that it is. But they don’t see how they can help avert it — or even adapt to it. Instead, conversations quickly slide into myths about “toxic batteries” or “solar panel landfills,” while remaining blind to the tangible health and pollution effects of coal and cars. On the global stage, this disconnect is even sharper. Climate action has taken hits from every direction: Anti-climate rhetoric, especially in U.S. politics. High European energy prices, wrongly blamed on renewables. Decades of subsidies channeled into technologies with little or no climate impact. Scandals around ESG reporting and carbon credits, which have undermined trust. Crossing the 1.5°C threshold, while the movement clings to a maximalist, all-or-nothing narrative. The credibility of climate action has been severely damaged. Time for a Reset The climate movement needs a new narrative. Less moral superiority, more pragmatism. Less “green premiums,” more “resilience and savings.” We should consistently show that climate technologies not only reduce CO₂ but also deliver immediate and tangible benefits: cheaper energy bills, cleaner air, and healthier homes. I like to stress two points: 1. Focus on the 80%.
We already have the technologies that can decarbonise the majority of emissions quickly and at competitive prices. Solar, wind, batteries, and heat pumps. These are proven and scalable. Hydrogen, SMRs, fusion, e-fuels, and long-duration storage may have a role, but they will not move the needle in the next decade. 2. Be pragmatic about the last 20%.
The hardest-to-abate sectors should be evaluated purely on economic grounds. If decarbonising the final 20% costs more than it delivers in benefits, we should acknowledge that. A Reset in Practice For me, the “pragmatic reset” means scaling technologies that make economic sense, fast. It also means being honest about trade-offs. Climate action must be credible, not performative. I still wrestle with the personal-professional gap. But I am convinced that the only way to bridge it — for me, for industry, for society — is to focus on climate solutions that people actually want to adopt because they improve their lives, not just because they are told they should. This post was inspired by Michael Liebreich’s recent provocation on the Pragmatic Climate Reset. It raises many important points. One that stood out to me is that the climate movement has lost credibility by clinging to maximalist narratives while failing to deliver practical benefits. If you haven't read it yet. read it here: https://about.bnef.com/insights/clean-energy/liebreich-the-pragmatic-climate-reset-part-ii-a-provocation/

Every few weeks, I see news on long-duration energy storage—compressed air, flow batteries, thermal, and hydrogen. Yesterday, a post by Ilja Pawel made me think harder about LDES. So let me distil my thoughts in this post, and come back to it in 10 years, to see how it plays out: Today, there is no real market for LDES. There is a market for up to 4 hours of storage—and lithium-ion rules there. The actual LDES market will only emerge when renewables consistently push past ~60% of generation in a grid. Until then, the cheapest way to back up renewables remains… natural gas turbines. LNG can be stored indefinitely, and gas plants are proven, fast to build, and relatively low-CAPEX. 📊 The chart below compares LCOE in Denmark, 2025 (Europe’s most renewable-heavy grid): Natural Gas CCGT: €90–105/MWh is still the most cost-effective option Flow Batteries: €165–177/MWh, currently the best LDES option Other LDES (hydrogen, thermal, CAES): higher costs today, and maybe some strategic value The gap is clear: natural gas is cheaper, but it comes with emissions and carbon costs, which I think we can perfectly tolerate. So my bet? Next 10 years: Gas + lithium-ion will dominate. Beyond that: As renewables rise and LDES costs fall, flow batteries, thermal storage, and hydrogen might gradually take the role that gas peakers play today. But that’s far from certain. This analysis was done with the help of Claude AI - https://claude.ai/public/artifacts/e5fdb64a-7ae6-4178-a5ee-1b0c5cbfc36f If you want more insights into cleantech and decision-making frameworks for cleantech scale-ups, follow me and stay updated! I regularly publish tips and tactics on scaling up climate technologies, taken from my own and other founders' experiences!

A head of procurement at one of Europe’s largest lithium-ion battery manufacturers once told me: “I got this email from a guy in India with a PowerPoint deck laying out his startup’s technology. The idea seemed interesting, so I forwarded it to our R&D department. Three months later, I was signing a contract with this guy.” A cold email, sent to the right person, turned into a contract. It happens. But you can’t build your entire commercial strategy on luck. Every climate tech scaleup finds its own way to clients. Some founders put up a website and wait for inquiries. Others rely on countrymen working in their target companies. Some hire top commercial executives with established networks. Over the years, I’ve distilled these patterns into a five-step framework for finding your clients—tailored to the realities of FOAK and climate tech. Step 1. Know your client type: hungry, cautious, or indifferent Not all clients are equal. In climatetech, you usually meet three types: The hungry - industries that are undergoing disruption or facing regulatory pressure. Think of the automotive sector racing to electrify. LeydenJar, the Dutch solid-state anode startup, secured three of its top five customers through a simple website contact form. The cautious – stable, high-margin businesses like utilities, ports, or steelmakers. They could benefit from innovation, but the risks outweigh the rewards. LineVision had to re-engineer its software to meet strict US grid cybersecurity rules before grid operators would even talk. The indifferent – businesses that use your product but don’t really care which supplier it comes from. Ports buying power. ATOME, a maker of green ammonia, knew this well, as for fertiliser plants, price is king, not how “green” your ammonia is. Recognising which group you’re selling to will shape your strategy and your patience. Step 2. Hire your chief commercial officer from the client’s world One of my former bosses took charge of a thermal power plant that served steel companies. His first move was to hire salespeople straight from the steel industry. Within months, sales rose, debts fell, and the plant reinvented itself around customer needs. Why it works: They know the real pain points. They bring warm contacts and a reputation. They understand internal politics—whether to pitch the CTO, CSO, or a head of particular department. Sometimes, the cultural dimension is even sharper. JR Energy Solution, a Korean lithium ion electrode manufacturer, landed early clients thanks to its access to a global network of Korean professionals working in client companies. In industries dominated by one country—like batteries dominated by China—your sales chances multiply if your lead seller knows that world inside out. Step 3. Leverage your investors’ networks Investors aren’t just capital providers, they’re connectors. Many growth-stage climatetech investors are ex-corporate managers from the very industries you’re targeting. Impact funds like Breakthrough Energy have built ecosystems where portfolio startups and corporates regularly intersect. And introductions can also come laterally—from startups in unrelated fields who share investors with you. Corporations rarely stick to one vertical. The key is simple: ask. Step 4. Master the cold introduction If your client is “hungry,” they may find you. But don’t rely on chance. Pitch sessions and accelerator demo days can work, but only with clients actively scouting for innovation. LinkedIn outreach is cheap and scalable, but don’t expect miracles. What really works in the B2B space is personal presence. Research your target company, identify the right decision-makers, and find out which conferences they attend. Reach out beforehand and then show up regardless of their reply. Hand them a hardcopy pitch. Suggest a meeting. Do this consistently, and the first “technical discussion” will eventually become a “commercial discussion.” Step 5. Be visible in industry media Interviews, podcasts, and panel talks may feel tiring, but they cut through barriers. Familiarity breeds openness. If someone has seen your name once, they’re far more likely to take your call. And don’t overthink it. This isn’t a PhD thesis defence — it’s a show. Get your most charismatic person on stage (often, but not always, the founder). Public speaking and media presence are jobs in themselves, but their payoff is massive. Final remarks The effort it takes to land first meetings depends heavily on your industry. Some sectors have an acute hunger for new tech. Others will resist until you’ve used every tool available. Either way, your best marketing asset isn’t a fancy marketing agency - it’s people: the CCO with the thickest address book, the investor with the right boardroom access, the advisor with the credibility to open doors. Once you’re in the room, the real work begins.

As the news broke last week, Natron Energy’s bankruptcy sparked a flood of commentary in my feed. Everyone seemed to have their culprit: “Greedy, impatient investors” – after 12 years of bankrolling, they wouldn’t bridge one more. “Foot-dragging UL certification” – the safety stamp that took too long to arrive. “The Chinese, of course” – lithium price collapse and competition from across the ocean. “Overambitious management” – jumping from a 0.6 GWh line straight to a 24 GWh gigafactory. Of these, the last one feels closest to the mark. The rest are not causes but symptoms – or simply the risks that come with this industry. I guess that even Natron’s own team might struggle to name one or two decisive reasons. Scaling up manufacturing is never about a single failure point. It’s about the accumulation of dozens of small ones: shaky supply chains, technical glitches, hesitant customers, cautious investors. What matters is the reminder: scaling hardware is far more complicated than most think. And there is still no universal playbook for it. At least not yet. For a glimpse of what such a playbook might look like – check this link and subscribe to my blog.

In the end, it had to be a political decision. After half a year of sifting through more than twenty locations and countless meetings with local officials, our future 8 GWh factory came down to two options. Tatarstan: a highly industrialised region east of Moscow, with a strong industrial park, permits ready, and—most importantly—right next to our main customer, Kamaz. Kaliningrad: a Russian exclave in Europe, wedged between Poland, Lithuania and the Baltic Sea, on the unfinished site of a nuclear power plant. Every rational criterion pointed to Tatarstan: customer proximity, supply chain, logistics, readiness, taxes, and even seasonal conditions. Kaliningrad won, and on the face of it it was for one reason: money. The regional government offered to fund over 20% of the project. But the deeper truth was political. The abandoned nuclear power plant site belonged to Rosatom, our sole shareholder. It had become a political liability, too expensive to complete and too costly to abandon. Repurposing it for a lithium-ion factory was a convenient way to write a new story. That decision came at a price. The location was far from our customer, the site was incomplete, workforce relocation was inevitable, and logistics were riskier. I signed the agreement in September 2021. Six months later, Russia invaded Ukraine, and every hidden risk of Kaliningrad was realised at once. Me, (on the left), signing an agreement with Kaliningrad region governor, 2021 The FOAK Location Selection Framework Your demo or FOAK (First-of-a-Kind) site is one of the most consequential choices you will ever make. Costs, operations, timelines, and sometimes survival depend on it. Politics, investors’ agendas, or personal bias can tip the balance away from logic. My advice: use a structured framework and watch for irrational influences. Here’s the FOAK location selection framework I wish more teams followed: 1. Stay close to your primary customer Lower delivery costs: your FOAK prices will already be high. Faster iterations: constant feedback and site visits save months of emails and Teams calls. Visible commitment: being near your anchor customer builds trust in the riskiest stage. 2. Balance against supplier proximity If inputs are easy to ship, prioritise customer proximity. If inputs are heavy, hazardous, or hard to move - consider suppliers first. Factor in CBAM, tariffs, and carbon footprint. Stress test for geopolitical risks, lockdowns, and trade disruptions. 3. Run a complete logistics risk assessment Quote current costs, then check historical spikes and their causes. Map transport bottlenecks, political choke points, and customs delays. Think of tail risks: blocked canals, fragile bridges, and sanctions. 4. Test the physics and infrastructure of the site Weather windows for construction works (snow, heat, floods, storms). Site topography and environmental restrictions. Power, water, wastewater, roads - are they already built or just promises? 5. Check labour and living conditions Is the workforce available locally? If not, what’s the cost of relocating and housing them? Don’t forget families: schools, healthcare, recreation. 6. Understand local politics Meet officials early to learn pain points, local factions and rivalries. Map potential blockers (farmers, NGOs, NIMBY groups). Look for incentives: land, permits, training centres, financing. 7. Move quietly and fast Don’t signal commitment too early — land prices spike, ownership shifts, and projects stall. Stay in stealth until the lease or purchase is signed. Only then go public. Conclusion Industrial parks can sometimes shortcut many of these steps—premade infrastructure, pre-cleared permits, eager local officials. But even then, walk through the checklist. It is always cheaper to catch a mistake on paper than halfway through pouring concrete. And remember: not every decision will be rational. Some will be political. Your job is to know the difference, and to push logic as far as it will go before the politics take over. 👉 I’m writing a book: “The FOAK Framework”, on how to scale up climate hardware. This story, and frameworks like the one above, are part of it (they come in an expanded version in the book). If you’d like early access to draft chapters, drop me a note!

Photo by Abby Chung: https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-of-ship-docked-1079946/ There’s something rarely acknowledged in cleantech sales: often, the main obstacle isn’t price, policy, or even technology. It’s change inertia. During my podcast with Polina Vasilenko, founder of HelioRec, she shared a story that quietly reveals one of the toughest barriers for any climate tech company trying to sell into traditional industries. To build her floating solar startup, Polina spent two years doing what many founders skip: she spoke with over 150 port authorities and operations teams across Europe. Not a few friendly leads. A full campaign of face-to-face conversations, exhibitions, and follow-ups. Here are the most common responses she got: > “Looks interesting, but call us next year.” > “What if a ship hits it?” > “We’d love to—if someone else pays for it.” No active objections. But no movement either. Because, as Polina put it, “Ports don’t exist to do energy. They exist to do cargo.” That’s the mindset you’re up against when you bring innovation to legacy infrastructure. Even when the solution is technically viable, economically reasonable, and aligned with their public sustainability goals, taking action still feels like a risk. Not because of the panels or the floaters, but because of what it asks of the organisation: a break from business as usual. And it’s not limited to ports. I’ve seen this in wind energy, in batteries, in district heating. The further your product is from what your customer already does, the more work you’ll need to do to reduce perceived risk. This is what Polina has been doing since day one: — Mapping out the operational objections — Building installation and emergency response plans — Speaking their language: timelines, layout constraints, insurance coverage — And critically, identifying the people within the port ecosystem who are motivated not just by compliance, but by progress For early-stage founders working on hardware climate tech, I think there’s an important lesson here: Don’t just validate the problem. Validate the willingness to change because that’s the real bottleneck. And it doesn’t show up on your pitch deck. I am curious - what’s been the most persistent form of resistance you’ve faced when trying to introduce a new solution in a legacy industry? #energytransition #cleantech #climatetech #floatingsolar #founderstory #inertia