Can Crypto and AI Be Clean? Two Democrats Say They Must Be

“The Lake Feels Like a Hot Tub”

Abi Buddington had lived near Seneca Lake for years. A quiet spot in upstate New York, wrapped in vineyards and weekend silence, where summers were made for swimming and mornings smelled like pine. But that July, something felt wrong.

The lake is so warm you feel like you're in a hot tub.

It wasn’t a metaphor. It was a symptom.

Just beyond her backyard, a once-silent gas-fired power plant had roared back to life. But it wasn't feeding the grid. Instead, it was powering 8,000 high-performance computers, mining Bitcoin around the clock. And that energy — hot, fossil-powered, and unrelenting — was warming the water, disrupting wildlife, and sending up plumes of carbon into the same summer sky that once promised calm.

Locals protested. Parents pulled kids out of the water. Fishermen complained about algae blooms. At first, they thought it was temporary. Then Greenidge Generation LLC — the plant’s operator — announced plans to expand, replicate the model in other states, and ramp up to 500 megawatts of crypto mining.

These crypto operations are looking for anywhere that has cheap power in a cool climate. It’s a horrible business model — for the town, for the planet,

said a conservationist. 

The more power they mined, the hotter the lake ran. And the more people realized this wasn’t just a local nuisance — it was a test case: 

1. Take an old fossil plant, 
2. Plug in the miners, 
3. Ignore the heat.

Now, in 2025, the Clean Cloud Act aims to draw a line.

Whitehouse and Fetterman No Longer Believe in “Clean Crypto”

To Senators Sheldon Whitehouse and John Fetterman, what happened at Seneca Lake isn’t an outlier. It’s a warning sign. A cautionary tale of what happens when fossil fuel leftovers are handed a new lease on life—just to feed machines chasing virtual gold.

They’ve stopped believing in market self-regulation. They’re done waiting for voluntary carbon offsets and climate promises with fine print. And they’re certainly not buying into the idea that data centers and crypto mines are “just another tech innovation.”

To them, these sites are the new coal mines. Just with sleeker interfaces.

That’s why the Clean Cloud Act doesn’t ask politely. It demands:
If you're burning megawatts to mint coins or train AI, you'd better show the receipt.

Radical Transparency

• Any data center or mining operation above 100 kW must report annually how much electricity it uses, where that energy comes from, who owns the generation source, and how much of it is off-grid. Even utilities will have to disclose their links to these facilities. In essence, it's a ‘Know Your Carbon' principle.
• The bill introduces regional carbon emissions caps, with a reduction target of 11% per year until emissions hit zero by 2035. Those who exceed the cap will be fined $20 per megawatt-hour of excess emissions, with the penalty increasing annually by $10 plus inflation. Utilities are equally accountable.
• Some operators might claim they use their own generation sources. However, this does not grant immunity under the bill. Companies must prove that their energy comes from new infrastructure, supports struggling renewables, or is fully decarbonized. If not, they’ll pay like everyone else.

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Where the Money Goes

The collected penalties aren’t pocketed—they’re reinvested. Most of the funds will go toward clean power development and long-duration storage. A quarter will help low-income families with energy bills. A small portion covers program costs.

This isn’t just legislation. It’s a message: If you want to power the digital future, you have to clean up the past.

“We Don’t Have to Choose Between Climate and Code”

Senators Whitehouse and Fetterman aren’t whispering their message — they’re broadcasting it loud and clear.

Energy-hungry data centers and cryptomining facilities are overloading our already strained power grid, driving up consumers’ electricity costs, and spiking fossil fuel emissions,

said Senator Whitehouse.

We don’t have to choose between leading the world on AI and leading the world on climate safety.

Fetterman, for his part, brings it down to earth:

We can’t let tech innovation come at the expense of the clean air and water Pennsylvanians rely on. This is a commonsense solution that saves our environment while saving people’s money.

To them, the Clean Cloud Act is not about restriction. It's about direction.

Will the Clean Cloud Act Survive the Political Climate?

The Clean Cloud Act enters Congress not just as a climate bill, but as a political gauntlet. And that makes its path anything but certain.

Republicans are unlikely to welcome a policy that penalizes two of the hottest sectors in U.S. tech: crypto mining and AI. Especially not in an election year—and especially not with Donald Trump back in the spotlight.

Last summer, Trump promised that “all remaining Bitcoin should be mined in the U.S.” His message? Bitcoin isn’t just an asset. It’s a tool of national power.

Since then, mining stocks have surged. His sons, Eric Trump and Donald Trump Jr., have entered the crypto arena as co-founders of American Bitcoin Corp, promising the most efficient mining fleet on U.S. soil—and a “strategic Bitcoin reserve” to go with it.

For us, Bitcoin is personal. It’s sovereignty. It’s liquidity. It’s protection from a system designed to cancel people like us,

said Eric Trump.

With Donald Trump leading in several polls and rallying voters around crypto nationalism, clean energy standards suddenly look like red tape for red states.

This isn’t just about emissions. It’s about who gets to own the future: Silicon Valley, Washington—or MAGA miners,

said one industry insider.

The Clean Cloud Act may or may not pass. But one thing is clear:
The fight for Bitcoin’s soul is no longer just technical. It’s tribal. And it’s just getting started.