"INTERESTED" · 총 89건
필터 보기현재 지수
50.3
0 = 부정 우세
50 = 중립
100 = 긍정 우세
최근 7일 기준 82,349건을 분석한 결과, 뉴스 심리지수는 50.2(균형)입니다. 긍정 4,057건(4.9%)·중립 76,347건(92.7%)·부정 1,945건(2.4%)이며, 중립 비중이 뚜렷하게 높습니다. 성향 지수는 종합 14.6(중도 균형)입니다.
Washington appears interested in getting access to critical technologies and rights that would allow it to replicate the equipment, a source said.
ISLAMABAD: The Privatisation Commission on Tuesday invited expressions of interest (EOIs) from local and international investors for the much-delayed sale of three of the country’s most viable electricity distribution companies (Discos). The deadline for submitting EOIs for the partial or full sale of the Discos falls in the first quarter of the next fiscal year. The three companies are Faisalabad Electric Supply Company (Fesco), Gujranwala Electric Power Company (Gepco), and Islamabad Electric Supply Company (Iesco). The three are considered the most viable Discos among the 11 electricity distribution companies originally carved out of the Water and Power Development Authority (Wapda) in 1998. The divestment aimed to improve service quality through private-sector management practices. The plan was supposed to be completed within five years but failed to take off over the following three decades. The transaction offers investors an opportunity to acquire between 51pc and 100pc shareholding, along with management control, in each of the three distribution companies. The initiative forms part of the government’s broader economic reform agenda aimed at improving efficiency, strengthening service delivery, attracting foreign and domestic investment, and promoting sustainable growth in Pakistan’s power sector, the Privatisation Commission said. Fesco, Gepco and Iesco collectively serve more than 14 million consumers across major industrial, commercial and urban centres of Punjab, the Islamabad region, and parts of Azad Jammu and Kashmir. The three Discos operate extensive electricity distribution networks covering key economic corridors and represent strategically important assets within Pakistan’s energy landscape. The Privatisation Commission said the process would be undertaken in a transparent, competitive and investor-friendly manner in accordance with international best practices. Interested parties may participate individually or as part of a consortium, subject to the qualification criteria outlined in the Request for Statement of Qualification (RSOQ) documents. According to the EOI notice, separate submissions are required for each Disco. The deadlines for submission are July 7, 2026, for Faisalabad Electric Supply Company (Fesco), August 6 for Gujranwala Electric Power Company (Gepco), and September 7 for Islamabad Electric Supply Company (Iesco). An online investor briefing will also be conducted jointly by the Privatisation Commission and the financial adviser to highlight investment opportunities, transaction structure, and procedural requirements for interested investors. The Privatisation Commission will engage with potential investors and power sector stakeholders to refine the existing Disco tariff structure, multi-year tariff (MYT) regime, business model and framework for competitive suppliers. The proposed reforms aim to create a performance and efficiency-based return regime while enabling private sector buyers to leverage Disco infrastructure and customer base for additional business opportunities. These measures are expected to support faster and more effective private sector participation in Pakistan’s power supply business. Driven by structural benchmarks of the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the commission said the government viewed the privatisation of power distribution companies as a critical step toward modernising the energy sector, reducing inefficiencies, encouraging private-sector participation and enhancing consumer service standards. The initiative is expected to contribute positively to fiscal sustainability, energy sector reforms and long-term economic stability, it said. The Privatisation Commission emphasised that Pakistan planned on creating and enabling an investment environment supported by policy continuity, regulatory transparency and institutional reforms.
Sandeep Poundrik noted that, in addition to coking coal, India is also interested in other raw materials used in metallurgy
Given how integral the Internet has become to everyday tasks such as shopping, paying bills, and holding virtual meetings, it’s interesting that nearly 30 percent of the global population still has no access to it. More than 2 billion people are still offline, according to a report released in November by the International Telecommunication Union. More and more people are being connected, though, thanks to IEEE Future Networks’ Connecting the Unconnected (CTU) and similar programs. Since 2021, the technical community has been working to accelerate the development, standardization, and deployment of 5G, 6G, and future generations. Every year, CTU holds a worldwide competition to seek out innovators who are in the early stages of developing technologies or applications to provide greater access. It also holds an annual summit that brings together experts, community leaders, and other interested parties to discuss strategies to expand access and foster digital inclusion. CTU expanded in several ways last year. It launched regional summits to focus on local connectivity issues, organized community-focused events, and established an expanded mentorship program to further support contest winners and the next generation of technological innovators impacting humanity. The program also partners with the IEEE Standards Association (IEEE SA) to develop guidelines for some of the submitted innovations. “IEEE Future Networks has created a community to bring all these initiatives working on digital connectivity together in a single platform and leverage the IEEE brand to help raise the visibility of their work,” says IEEE Life Fellow Sudhir Dixit, a CTU cochair and a Basic Internet Foundation cofounder, which also works to expand Internet access. A contest for new connectivity methods The CTU challenge, launched in 2021, typically receives 200 to 300 submissions each year, Dixit says. Last year 245 projects from 52 countries were submitted. Participants include academics, nonprofit organizations, startups, and students. Projects can be entered into one of three categories. The Technology Applications category is for new connectivity methods or innovations that broaden broadband access. Those who improve the affordability of Internet services can enter the Business Model category. The Community Enablement category is for strategies that promote public broadband adoption. After selecting a category, entrants choose between two tracks based on their project’s maturity. The proof-of-concept route is for early-stage but functional technology that has already produced results. The conceptual path is for projects in the theoretical phase that have not undergone full testing. “IEEE Future Networks has created a community to bring all these initiatives working on digital connectivity together in a single platform and leverage the IEEE brand to help raise the visibility of their work.” —Sudhir Dixit, Connecting the Unconnected cochair Last year’s challenge submission period was from March to June, with judging phases from June through November. The 20 winners presented their solutions in December at a virtual Winners Summit. Fourteen projects received prize money, ranging from US $500 to $2,500. Six finalists earned an honorable mention at the summit. The awards amounts have varied over the years, based on the sponsorship. Among the winners were a solar-powered community broadband network in Tanzania, a low-cost method for accessing the Internet that uses FM radio and a short message service (SMS), and a strategy for utilizing India’s rural broadband infrastructure to deliver medical services to people living in isolated, tribal, and other underserved regions. “Our job is to help further develop the technology, look for gaps, and see if it is good enough to be applied to rural villages, like those in Africa and India,” says IEEE Fellow Ashutosh Dutta, who is a CTU cochair and a professor at Johns Hopkins University, in Baltimore. “The idea behind the contest is to make sure the technology actually gets implemented at the grassroots level and is being used by the local community.” This year’s challenge submission period runs until 19 June, with judging phases from July through October. The finalists of the 2025 IEEE Connect the Unconnected challenge describe their projects.IEEE Future Networks Local connectivity discussions The CTU program hosted three regional summits last year. The North American event was held in September in Washington, D.C. In November, the Global/Asia-Pacific meeting took place in Bangalore, India; it was co-located with the IEEE Future Networks World Forum. The Europe, Middle East, and Africa summit also was held in November, in Abuja, Nigeria. Topics discussed at the summits included infrastructure solutions for universal connectivity; sustainable business models; scaling homegrown technologies; and policy, regulation, and financing issues. As of press time, the dates for this year’s regional summits had not been announced. Community-focused events To help bridge the gap between ideas and their deployment, the Connect a Community event was established to demonstrate how some new technologies might benefit people. The inaugural event was held in November in Bengaluru, India. During the daylong program, 10 of the challenge winners demonstrated their connectivity solutions to villagers from seven rural communities. Dutta credits IEEE Life Fellow Rakesh Kumar with devising the event. Kumar chairs IEEE Future Directions, which was where Future Networks got its start in 2017 as the 5G Initiative. “Kumar wants to ensure the winning technologies are going to be useful for the community,” Dutta says. Providing entrepreneurs with business skills Dixit says the Future Networks team believed that simply conducting a competition and distributing prizes wasn’t enough. “We wanted to follow up with the winners, monitor their progress, and help them turn their ideas into a business,” he says. To accomplish that, IEEE launched the Empowerment Through Mentorship program, in which budding entrepreneurs are paired with industry leaders and experienced mentors who provide them with 1,000 days of guidance, coaching them on scaling up their business. “We launched the mentorship program to further the cause,” Dixit says. “These people may be good at developing technology, but they don’t know the marketing challenges, how to raise money, and other factors.” The Lemelson Foundation, an organization in Portland, Ore., that partners with IEEE, collaborated on the mentorship program. The foundation’s philanthropic strategy is to cultivate a robust ecosystem for entrepreneurs in East Africa, India, and the United States. It does so by providing the entrepreneurs with tools including financing options and access to communities that share their passion. The foundation chose to partner with IEEE “because of its powerful international network and focus on electrical engineering, which is a critical element of communications and energy infrastructure globally,” says Kory Murphy, Lemelson’s program officer for U.S. invention and entrepreneurship. “Other factors include IEEE’s focus on nontraditional or disadvantaged areas in India,” Murphy says, “and its recognition that mentorship is critical for the successful deployment of new technologies.” IEEE began an early pilot project in 2023 with support of a grant from the Lemelson Foundation, to determine if a sustained entrepreneurship mentorship program was valuable and necessary, he says. It then conducted a survey through 2024 to collect information to better understand the needs of stakeholders, mentors, and entrepreneurs in hard-to-reach areas in India. While the early pilot program was restricted to that country, its intent was to learn from the experience and share the findings globally, he says. “Our job is to help further develop the technology, look for gaps, and see if it is good enough to be applied to rural villages, like those in Africa and India.” —Ashutosh Dutta, Connecting the Unconnected cochair “The foundation’s involvement was aimed at testing certain activities, partnership strategies, and understanding the budgetary requirements for a prepilot program,” he says. “The primary goal of the foundation is to enable conditions for innovation to occur within regional systems, especially addressing the opportunity for sustained, systematic, and relational mentorship in technology innovation.” The Empowerment Through Mentorship program is structured into three tiers. One focuses on individuals and their needs, the program/technical level focuses on the invention, and the venture level guides participants from the initial concept through product testing and validation. Within each track, participants engage in activities such as networking, securing financial support, and pitching their innovations, Murphy says. “The 1,000-day approach reflects the belief that it requires a long period of time to coach and support those who traditionally are excluded,” he says. CTU mentors can be IEEE members or nonmembers who are successful entrepreneurs and own small or large companies, Dixit says. They also can work in academia. “They need to be passionate about training and mentoring other people,” Dixit says. “We have created a curriculum that covers topics such as ways to get financing from investors and how to turn ideas into a profitable business. It’s not the technology that will make the product successful; it’s everything else that goes into it.” Rural broadband architecture standards To determine whether any of the challenge’s submitted projects have the potential to become a standard, the CTU working group collaborates with the IEEE SA Industry Connections program’s 6G Rural Connectivity and Intelligent Village activity. Projects considered for standards do not have to be winners. Any project that has successfully passed the first phase, completed the second-phase requirements, and requested a review may be considered. Typically, about half of the submitted projects are reviewed for possible standard implications, Dutta says. “We selected about 60 submissions that could be potentially standardized,” he says. “Out of those, we work with IEEE SA’s rapid reactive standards activity group to narrow them down to five or 10 that can be potentially standardized. “The CTU program is not only about developing a technology or implementing it, but also standardizing it so that people around the world can use the standard.” One such project led to the development of IEEE P1962, “Standard for Providing Broadband Connectivity to Rural Infrastructure by Utilizing Solar Panels as Optical Communication Receivers.” It specifies an architecture for an optical receiver that uses solar panels and associated circuitry to provide energy-efficient, affordable, and high-speed optical wireless communication. “CTU has created a platform for the world to bring their ideas to one single place where people can talk to each other about them,” Dixit says. “We are a unifying force. We bring these many dimensions together to connect the unconnected.” CTU Challenge Winner: Community Radio Bolo The Connecting the Unconnected program offers contestants benefits that extend beyond the recognition and rewards. One participant who benefited is Ritu Srivastava, a telecommunications engineer and IEEE member. She placed first in the 2022 technical concept category for her project, Community Radio Bolo (CR Bolo). The verb bolo means speak in Hindi. Internet services in India’s rural areas are either unavailable or have spotty coverage. People there rely on community radio stations to get news about local events and issues. There are about 300 such stations in India, Srivastava says. To provide broadband Internet access in the Bhadrak district of Odisha, India, she developed a cost-effective hybrid network that uses an online and offline wireless mesh network installed on the tower of community radio station Radio Bulbul. Several transceiver locations, known as access points, are located at schools and community centers that are within a 5- to 7-kilometer radius, connecting them with Radio Bulbul. CR Bolo includes a plug-and-play interactive voice response system that is coupled with the hybrid wireless network. The automated telephony technology routes callers using voice commands or a telephone’s keypad to the appropriate department. The system also has a direct-to-consumer platform where manufacturers sell their products through websites or mobile apps. “CR Bolo is a unique method of leveraging rural traditional technologies and infrastructure combined with modern technology to provide meaningful access to communities,” Srivastava says, “improving livelihood opportunities and creating social and economic viability for CR stations.” She says she plans to expand the project to other rural communities in India. She will incorporate a large language model and offer a learning management system to deliver training programs and educational courses, she says. Winning CTU inspired her to become a more active IEEE volunteer, she says. She is working with the IEEE Standards Association to develop guidelines for the architecture of broadband technology used in rural areas. Because of her entrepreneurial experience, CTU hired her in 2023 to assist with the challenge and the Empowerment Through Mentorship program. Srivastava is a director at Jadeite Solutions in New Delhi. The consulting company offers nonprofit organizations that are developing socioeconomic programs with project evaluation, impact assessment, financial reviews, and similar services. She credits CTU with giving her and her community-centered model more exposure: “The CTU challenge has given me a lot of other opportunities in terms of networking, funding resources, publishing my research in IEEE journals, and presenting at national and international conferences.”
“Why are you here?” Fabrizio Pilo, an electrical engineer, asks me as we sit in an outdoor café near his home in Cagliari, an ancient city on the island of Sardinia. It’s a fair question. I’m a journalist from the United States. I’d just stepped off my flight 2 hours prior and come straight to this meeting, suitcase still stowed in my rental car. I’m here to see three intriguing new energy projects under development in Sardinia. I’d heard there’s strong public resistance to renewable energy, and I want to understand why that is. I tell Pilo, who is vice rector for innovation at the University of Cagliari, that I hope he’ll share some insights before I head out on a reporting trip across the island. (My answer seems to satisfy him, and he kindly gives me an hour of his time). This won’t be the first time that I’m asked to explain my presence on the island. I’d expected it, to some extent; I’m a foreign journalist poking around, after all. What I didn’t expect was the depth of Sardinians’ distrust, not just of journalists, but of any outsider, particularly ones with authority. Over the last few years, developers of wind and solar projects, most of whom aren’t from here, have been absorbing the bulk of this smoldering, communal wariness. Activists Maria Grazia Demontis [left] and Alberto Sala, photographed inside the archaeological monument Giants’ Tomb of Pascarédda, have worked to stop the construction of wind farms by organizing protests and taking legal actions through their organization Gallura Coordination. Luigi Avantaggiato In fact, the resistance is so widespread among Sardinians that over the course of two months in 2024, a grassroots petition to ban new wind and solar projects gathered over 210,000 certified signatures. That’s more than a quarter of Sardinia’s typical voter turnout and represents a cross-party consensus. People stood in long lines in public squares to sign. And it worked: Political leaders responded swiftly with an 18-month moratorium on renewable energy construction. “I’ve never seen so much engagement for anything” in Sardinia, says Elisa Sotgiu, a literary sociologist at the University of Oxford, who was born and raised on the island. “Sardinia has a bunch of problems like enormous unemployment. There’s lots of emigration because there are no jobs. It’s one of the poorest areas in Europe. The area is just decaying,” she says. “And yet the thing people are demonstrating against is renewable energy.” And the opposition continues: A network of mayors has mobilized for the cause. Thousands of people show up at organized protests. Activists vandalize grid equipment. Families are passing down these stories of resistance to their children as a point of pride. Local media outlets are egging it on, frequently publishing misinformation tinged with fearmongering. These aren’t just NIMBY complaints—not in the pejorative sense, at least. The resistance, and the distrust underlying it, is rooted in the island’s complex history, both recent and ancient. It’s based on a past that the Sardinian people carry with them—a past that has seeded a deep sense of suspicion and vulnerability. Resistance, I learn, is part of what it means to be Sardinian. Fabrizio Giulio Luca Pilo, vice rector of innovation at the University of Cagliari, has been working to help Sardinia transition to cleaner, more reliable energy. Luigi Avantaggiato “It is a very sad situation,” Pilo tells me. “There are a lot of economic reasons to do the [energy] transition.” It could attract new companies such as data centers, which would create new jobs, he argues. It could reduce Sardinia’s reliance on imported gas and fuel, making the island more independent. New economic activity on the island might help reverse its population decline, he adds. And while what’s happening on Sardinia is unique, it also represents a larger trend: A growing number of communities around the world are opposing wind- and solar-farm construction, to the consternation of stakeholders. By 2025, nearly one-fourth of the counties in the United States had enacted some impediment to new utility-scale wind and solar energy—up from as few as 15 percent two years earlier, according to a USA Today analysis. In Africa, community pushback successfully canceled major projects such as the 60-megawatt Kinangop Wind Park in Kenya. In India, local pastoralists are challenging the 13-gigawatt Ladakh solar and wind project. And the European Union’s top-down push for renewable energy has created opposition in many communities. Their reasons vary—land-use preferences, generational ethos, government resentment, property values, economic effects, aesthetics—but all of these struggles have this in common: The resisters are passionate and they are often successful in blocking development. This is a looming problem for the energy transition. Unlike large, centralized coal and nuclear power plants, renewable energy is geographically spread out, so it touches far more communities. Sardinia offers one of the clearest cases of what can go wrong when renewable-energy developers and authorities fail to consider the complexities of the local situation on the ground. Why is Sardinia resisting renewable energy? Roughly the size of New Hampshire, Sardinia juts out of the Mediterranean Sea about 200 kilometers west of Italy’s mainland. Technically it’s part of Italy, but Sardinians are quick to point out their island’s autonomous status—a subtle way of saying, “We do things our way.” Its mountains seem to echo the sentiment. With the highest peaks running in a chain along the east side of the island, Sardinia resolutely turns its back to the mainland. At first glance, the island looks like the kind of place that’s ripe for an energy transition. Its two coal plants are aging and are targeted to be shut down to meet climate commitments. It has no nuclear power, nor does it produce its own natural gas. Wind and sun, however, are abundant and could easily meet the energy needs of Sardinia’s sparse population of about 1.5 million. But while the resources may be ready for a transition, the people emphatically are not. When I first arrive in Sardinia and take in its beauty, I assume that the impetus behind the fight against wind and solar farms boils down to how they look. Waves of silicon, metal, and concrete would spoil views of Sardinia’s stunning beaches, rugged mountains, ancient pastures, and idyllic medieval villages, after all. Residents of the city of Orgosolo in 1969 famously stopped the construction of a military firing range on communal grazing land known as Pratobello. Its village walls are still covered in murals advocating social protest and antiauthoritarianism. Luigi Avantaggiato But the island’s aesthetic—and the tourism industry that depends on it—are only part of the equation. The far stronger cultural forces at play are rooted in Sardinia’s past. Over millennia, the island has endured successive invasions from outsiders seeking to exploit the land. These incursions, and Sardinians’ rebellious responses to them, have become an integral part of the island’s identity passed down through generations. The invasions started with the relatively peaceful settlement of the Phoenicians in the 9th and 8th centuries B.C.E. Then came the Romans, the Byzantines, and the Iberians, who conquered with violence, looting, and enslavement. But legend has it that despite the might of these ancient conquerors, pockets of Sardinia sometimes managed to defend themselves. “Not even the Roman empire could conquer the shepherds of the highland regions,” is the oft-repeated tale. Whether that’s true or just an idealization is beside the point; such stories serve as an enormous source of pride and identity. Sardinia exported about 30 percent of the electricity it generated in 2025, largely to Corsica and the Italian mainland via two existing submarine cables. The island is “fiercely proud of its identity…especially in the center of Sardinia, which was the most resistant part,” says Andrea Vargiu, a sociologist at the University of Sassari in Sardinia. “This long history of exploitation is still in our DNA, along with a proud sense of autonomy,” he says. Sardinia’s unification, in the mid-1800s, with what would become the Kingdom of Italy is seen by many as an act of colonization. It didn’t help that Italy then proceeded to exploit Sardinia’s forests and other resources for the benefit of the mainland—a practice that continued through the 20th century, says Vargiu. Sardinian bandits sometimes fought back with their own sense of justice, settling matters through raids, kidnappings, and violence. Their stories live on in Sardinian lore with an almost mythical quality, the brigands admired for their intractability. Pasquale Mereu, mayor of Orgosolo, helped organize the Pratobello 24 movement against renewable energy in Sardinia. Luigi Avantaggiato Italy’s use of the island for military purposes particularly irked locals. In a famous case in 1969, residents of the town of Orgosolo successfully thwarted the construction of a firing range on communal grazing land known as Pratobello. That name has since become synonymous with the defense of one’s territory, and a rallying cry. “Sardinia has always been a land of conquest,” says Pasquale Mereu, mayor of Orgosolo, who spoke with IEEE Spectrum through an interpreter. “We believe that even today we are still a colony of Italy, and I’m not ashamed to say it even though I represent an institution.” A longstanding mural on one of his village’s walls reads: “You are in the territory of Orgosolo; here the people rule supreme and the government obeys.” Sardinia’s History Shapes its Identity Driving around the island and talking to people, I can feel the weight of Sardinia’s history—and people’s propensity for holding onto it. Elaborate heritage festivals occur nearly every autumn weekend in the island’s interior. They’re well attended, multigenerational affairs that aim to keep old traditions alive. In the medieval town of Belvì, men roast chestnuts—marroni—over an open fire in a frying pan the size of a swimming pool and then serve them to the crowd by shoveling them into troughs. They’re delicious. In an adjacent amphitheater, the crowd sways along to costumed performers leading traditional dances. Then there are the Bronze Age stone structures, called nuraghi, that are pretty much everywhere. Built before the violent conquests, these conical towers have come to symbolize a romanticized vision of the heyday of Sardinia’s independence. More than 7,000 of them remain, ranging from unremarkable piles of rocks to complex towers, each one carefully documented on an interactive online map. I visit one of the more intact ones that’s fenced off and requires an admission fee. As I take some video with my phone, an employee asks me who I am and what I’m doing and informs me I’ll need to get permission from the government before posting anything online. This rock hollowed out by erosion and walled up with stones was likely used by shepherds as a shelter near the historic Sardinian village of Tempio Pausania. Luigi Avantaggiato But in interviews with residents, I’m continually reminded of the darker side of Sardinia’s past. People often bring up painful things that happened 50 or 500 years ago. A middle school science teacher named Giannina Serpi, and her husband, Roberto Moro, meet me at a café in the seaside town of Sant’Antioco. When I ask why people are so opposed to renewable energy, they (like many people I interviewed) point to the 1970s. Sheep return from pasture in Bonorva, Sardinia, near the Bonorva wind farm operated by EDF Renewables. Luigi Avantaggiato That decade brought a new kind of exploitation: not by empires or governments, but by technology companies. Petrochemical, aluminum, and other industrial companies from overseas built factories on the island, creating jobs and adjacent businesses. But after a few decades, economic and geopolitical factors led the companies to close the factories, sinking local economies and in some cases leaving behind toxic contamination. In the northern city of Porto Torres, several petrochemical plants, a thermoelectric power plant, and an industrial harbor employed about 8,000 workers in the early 1970s. But the oil crises of that decade took its toll on jobs, and when environmental contamination became evident in the 1990s, employment plunged further. By 2010, most of the petrochemical plants had closed. Studies show that residents of Porto Torres during that time had curiously high rates of death from cancer, although there is no consensus on the cause. Similarly, studies have found higher rates of lead in children in the Portovesme area in the southwest, about a 20-minute drive from where I sit with Serpi and Moro in Sant’Antioco. There, the U.S. aluminum producer Alcoa operated a smelter that employed about 500 people and supported an estimated 1,500 adjacent jobs. But the company shut down the smelter in 2012. Three years earlier, Russian aluminum manufacturer Rusal had idled its Eurallumina factory nearby. The impacts of these events still feel fresh, Serpi explains through a digital translator. She says she teaches this history to her students but doesn’t tell them how to feel about it. “I let them decide,” she says. Energy Colonialism in Sardinia Against this backdrop, renewable-energy developers in the early 2010s began sizing up Sardinia. They were drawn by the cheap land, low population, strong wind, and sun that shines an average of about 300 days a year. EF Solare Italia commissioned an 11-MW solar plant in 2010. Rome-based Enel Green Power began construction of a 90-MW wind farm in Portoscuso the following year. Other developers followed, and they mostly came from elsewhere—mainland Italy, Europe, and later, China. The way many Sardinians saw it, the new plants didn’t bring many long-lasting jobs. Most of the work ended after the design and installation phases, and profits went back to the companies’ headquarters outside of Sardinia, they argued. People called it “energy colonialism” and lauded landowners who refused to sell or lease their property to developers. Pink granite called Ghiandone Limbara was extracted from the Sinnada quarry in northern Sardinia from the late 1970s to 2011. Luigi Avantaggiato The uncle of Oxford’s Sotgiu is one of those landowners. She says that a couple of years ago a solar company asked him if he would allow the installation of an array on his family farm in Logudoro in Sardinia’s interior. “From that, he would have gotten something around €150,000 a year, which is more money than he’s seen in his life,” says Sotgiu. The money could have covered his three kids’ college education, she says. “But he refused.” He had many reasons. For one, switching from sheep grazing to the more passive business of leasing land would have put the fate of his income in the hands of an outsider. “If you deprive a region of any sort of economy that is self-reliant, then it’s really fragile,” says Sotgiu. Her uncle didn’t trust that the income would last, and worried he’d be left with a ruined farm, she says. Plus, his farm has been in the family for generations and one of his sons is interested in continuing the business. “So I understand his pride in saying, ‘No, this is my farm, I don’t care about the money,’” she says. Sardinia has one of the largest carbon footprints per capita in Europe. Despite that kind of grassroots resistance, development continued. In 2023, the Italian government authorized the construction of a 1-GW submarine power cable to connect Sardinia to Sicily and the Italian mainland. When completed, the bidirectional cable, called the Tyrrhenian Link, will increase electricity exchange between the regions, bolster grid reliability, and help grid operators efficiently use more renewable energy. Sardinian activists, however, view the cable as a way to justify even more construction of wind and solar plants, and to export the island’s energy for the benefit of non-Sardinians. The island already exports about 30 percent of its electricity, largely to Corsica and the Italian mainland via two existing submarine cables. The Florinas wind farm, commissioned in 2004, was one of the earliest wind farms built in Sardinia. Luigi Avantaggiato And then came the tipping point. In June 2024, in an effort to meet the European Union’s 2030 renewable energy targets, Italy committed to building more than 80 GW of new wind and solar energy capacity over December 2020 levels. The national government divvied up the burden among its regions and told Sardinia to build its portion, 6.2 GW. The move triggered an onslaught of requests from wind and solar developers wanting to build projects in Sardinia. The queue at one point topped 50 GW of grid-connection requests. That represented more than 700 solar and wind projects, many of which came from companies outside of Sardinia. The southern newspaper L’Unione Sarda ran wild with the numbers. Almost daily, for months, it published stories about the “wind assault.” The call-to-arms posts urged people to protest. “The Attack on the Landscape Does Not Stop; The Threat From Agrivoltaics Is Growing,” read a July 2024 headline. Unsubstantiated articles tried to link wind and solar developers to organized crime. “It was scaremongering,” says Sotgiu. “It was a little dishonest, as I saw it, because they kept exaggerating and scaring people into thinking that we were going to be invaded.” (Representatives of the newspaper declined to comment.) The numbers did scare people. Lost was the fact that a grid-connection request is just the start of a multiyear process that involves permitting and legal review and often ends in withdrawn or downsized projects. Submitting a request is inexpensive, and developers often cast a wide net by entering lots of these queues globally to increase the odds of being accepted. In the end, only a fraction come to fruition. In other words, building all, or even most, of the requested 50 GW was never going to happen. “I tried to explain this” to the public, says an industrial engineer at the University of Cagliari, in Sardinia, who asked to remain anonymous to avoid any detrimental impacts of speaking out. “I went to the regional television station. But it’s difficult with technical information. And the newspaper communication is so bad, and its impact is so strong in the community, that it’s very difficult to change people’s minds,” he says. Pratobello 2024 and Anti-Wind Protests And so the collective angst caused by powerful outsiders, industry, and the state united Sardinians into a singular cause. Faced with what felt like another attempted conquest, they did what their families and community had taught them to do: They resisted. Says Mereu: “This is what we are rebelling against: the idea that Sardinians are few and therefore must put up with everything.” In a nod to the 1969 resistance in Orgosolo, they dubbed the movement “Pratobello 2024.” Activist groups, called “committees,” organized protests, and created social media campaigns and videos. Thousands of people started showing up at planned demonstrations. A lawyer went on a hunger strike. Vandals unscrewed bolts on wind turbine blades and set fire to grid and construction equipment. Italy’s transmission system operator, Terna, had to switch to company cars without logos to avoid being targeted. Students studying the electricity system in a master’s program sponsored by Terna were verbally attacked at an airport, according to a professor at their school who spoke with me about the violence. Celebrities got involved. Italian actress and Bond Girl Caterina Murino met with Sardinia’s president to ask her to reject wind farms. Murino posted on Instagram: “Nobody touch Sardinia!!!!” On Italian national TV, the jazz legend Paolo Fresu performed on trumpet while popular TV host Geppi Cucciari read an impassioned lament about the exploitation of the island. Sardinian author Erre Push penned a graphic novel titled Fàula Birdi about a protagonist who resisted an imposition from outsiders. He wrote it upon the request of the activist group ReCommon, whose mission is to “challenge corporate and state power responsible for the plunder of territories.” Push hopes the book will inspire more people to follow the protagonist’s lead. “Renewables are another imposition like in the past—not to help Sardinians but to help external people like industry managers or founders of companies,” he told me through an interpreter. Concerned about the influx of solar and wind farms being built in Sardinia by outsiders, Roberto Pusceddu, under his pen name Erre Push, published a graphic novel that aimed to inspire young people to resist such impositions. Luigi Avantaggiato Mereu and a network of mayors drafted the petition that gathered so many signatures. The people had spoken. In response, Sardinian politicians passed a law that imposed an 18-month ban on construction of wind and solar projects within 7 km of a nuraghe or other archeological site. It wasn’t a total ban, but it might as well have been. “If you put a circle with a 7-km radius around each archeological site, you cover all of Sardinia,” says Emilio Ghiani, a power systems expert at the University of Cagliari. “In this way, it is impossible to find a place to install a new plant.” The move was like giving the Italian government—and the EU’s clean energy targets—the middle finger. And it sent renewable-energy developers scrambling. One company building an agriphotovoltaic plant raced to bring construction to 30 percent completion, which the new law said was the threshold for being allowed to proceed. The company asked not to be named in this story to avoid trouble. Furious, the government in Rome challenged the Sardinian regional law in Italy’s Constitutional Court, and in January this year it prevailed. In its decision, the court rejected the law, saying that renewable-energy projects should be evaluated case by case. Project development quickly resumed. So did the backlash. A headline in L’Unione Sarda declared: “Enough With Top-Down Decisions Without Consulting Communities.” Sardinia’s Renewable Energy Conflict Where the island goes from here is unclear. There’s a willingness among a portion of the population to move forward with an energy transition. For example, some of Sardinia’s largest cheese makers are powering their operations with renewable energy and installing systems to utilize waste heat for efficiency. But for the most part, the public isn’t budging in its resistance. Researchers are trying to dispel inaccurate information, but regional newspapers seem bent on perpetuating fear. Plus, there are technical issues to work out before a full-scale energy transition can be made. Sardinia’s transmission system was built around the centralized generation of two coal plants; it wasn’t made for the distributed generation of wind and solar plants. Renewables require a more dynamic grid, more energy storage, and a wider range of power sources to compensate for their intermittency. Engineers are working on it, but they’ve got a ways to go. The new Tyrrhenian Link undersea power cable will help with that. By connecting Sardinia, Sicily, and the mainland, the cable creates more flexibility in the system. When wind or solar generation slows in Sardinia, for example, electricity from the mainland can fill in the gap, and vice versa. “It will increase the reliability of the system, and after it’s installed, it will be possible to switch off the old generation plants that use coal,” says Ghiani. In January, Terna finished laying the western section of the cable between Sardinia and Sicily, and in April it completed the eastern section between Sicily and Campania on the mainland. Doing so set a world record for power cable depth, at 2,150 meters below sea level, according to Terna. Italy originally ordered Sardinia’s two coal plants to shut down by 2025 but later extended the deadline to 2038. The link is one of the most innovative high-voltage direct current (HVDC) projects in Europe. It can move up to a gigawatt of power and reverse that power flow nearly instantaneously. By using voltage source converter (VSC) technology, it can also help prevent power-flow problems by regulating frequency and smoothing out oscillations in the grid in real time. And it has black-start capability: In the event of a shutdown, it can help restore the grid without relying on an external electric network. These features are particularly helpful for an isolated network like Sardinia’s. Italy has created new incentives and regulations to build a market for grid-scale energy storage. Having plenty of storage is a key to scaling up renewables because it provides backup power when the wind isn’t blowing or the sun isn’t shining. To this end, Italy created MACSE, an auction that gives storage developers revenue certainty. Its name translates to mechanism for the procurement of electricity storage capacity. The first auction round, in September, successfully awarded 10 GWh. Energy experts in Sardinia are also working with policymakers to change the rules around grid-connection requests. But these kinds of nerdy details don’t grace most household conversations. Industrial Sites Host Energy Storage Something more accessible that the public can get behind is building renewables on Sardinia’s abandoned industrial sites. “To be honest, not everything is so beautiful here. We have a lot of industrial areas where you can place PV panels. We have a lot of rooftops,” electrical engineer Pilo says. “We have unused coal mines.” I visit one such project that’s proceeding with local support—or at least without much opposition. It’s a coal mine near Gonnesa that shut down in 2018 and is now being turned into a data center and a pumped-hydro energy storage system. The plan is to move water through the mine’s vertical geometry via an enclosed membrane—like a soft pipe—and use the flow to turn a turbine that generates electricity. The water then gets pumped back to the surface and stored in pear-shaped vessels above ground. The scheme will help power the data center, which will be built both above and below ground, including in the mine’s largest chambers nearly 500 meters below the Earth’s surface. Energy Vault will remove old mining equipment from the Carbosulcis coal mine near Gonnesa to make way for an underground data center [above]. It will be powered by a pumped-hydro energy storage system that flows through the mine’s vertical geometry and stores water in above-ground tanks [top].Luigi Avantaggiato Energy storage developer Energy Vault is building it, and despite being based in Lugano, Switzerland—that is, not Sardinia—the company seems to have avoided protest. It helps that the mine is owned by Carbosulcis, a Sardinian regional-government-owned company, which is calling the shots on the project. Plus, doing nothing with the mine costs money. The mine closed eight years ago because it wasn’t profitable, but Carbosulcis must continue maintaining it because of its high methane emissions, which require monitoring and ventilation to prevent explosions and leaks. Carbosulcis managers figured that if they’re going to continue putting money and personnel into the mine, they might as well do something useful with it, Luca Manzella, vice president for Europe, Middle East, and Africa at Energy Vault, says as he and I tour the mine. An innovative project in Sardinia’s interior—Energy Dome’s grid-scale carbon dioxide battery—seems to be avoiding protest as well. Built in a gated industrial complex near Ottana, this energy-storage facility looks like a giant bubble—the kind that fits over a stadium or tennis complex. It’s filled with carbon dioxide that is compressed to store 200 MWh of electricity for the grid. Although the bubble is visible from several of the surrounding hillside villages, and although the developer is headquartered on the mainland, there’s little sign of public pushback. Energy Dome began operating its 20-megawatt, long-duration energy-storage facility in July 2025 in Ottana, Sardinia. In partnership with Google, the company this year aims to build replicas of the system on multiple continents.Luigi Avantaggiato Another path forward is through “energy communities.” In this grassroots approach, consumers work together to build their own solar plant or other power generation. Dozens of these communities are already active on the island, according to the Sardinian Electricity Association, a group that provides guidance to consumers. But by far the greatest need is for energy developers and authorities to understand the people and the history of the land on which they want to build. “When Europe or the national government make a law, they have to also consider the background of Sardinian people and why they are so afraid,” says Simone Micheletti, CEO at Futura Group, a renewable-energy developer based in Serramanna, Sardinia. “You cannot apply the same law to Sweden and Sicily. Sometimes you need to understand [the situation] locally,” he says. Decision makers everywhere would be wise to listen. Otherwise, they may suffer the same fate as their counterparts in Sardinia: despised by locals, delayed by politics, and surprised at how badly it all went. Special thanks to Luigi Avantaggiato for interpreting and additional reporting. This story was updated on 13 May, 2026 to correct the percentage of electricity that Sardinia exports.
When it comes to AI models, size matters. Even though some artificial-intelligence experts warn that scaling up large language models (LLMs) is hitting diminishing performance returns, companies are still coming out with ever larger AI tools. Meta’s latest Llama release had a staggering 2 trillion parameters that define the model. As models grow in size, their capabilities increase. But so do the energy demands and the time it takes to run the models, which increases their carbon footprint. To mitigate these issues, people have turned to smaller, less capable models and using lower-precision numbers whenever possible for the model parameters. But there is another path that may retain a staggeringly large model’s high performance while reducing the time it takes to run an energy footprint. This approach involves befriending the zeros inside large AI models. For many models, most of the parameters—the weights and activations—are actually zero, or so close to zero that they could be treated as such without losing accuracy. This quality is known as sparsity. Sparsity offers a significant opportunity for computational savings: Instead of wasting time and energy adding or multiplying zeros, these calculations could simply be skipped; rather than storing lots of zeros in memory, one need only store the nonzero parameters. Unfortunately, today’s popular hardware, like multicore CPUs and GPUs, do not naturally take full advantage of sparsity. To fully leverage sparsity, researchers and engineers need to rethink and re-architect each piece of the design stack, including the hardware, low-level firmware, and application software. In our research group at Stanford University, we have developed the first (to our knowledge) piece of hardware that’s capable of calculating all kinds of sparse and traditional workloads efficiently. The energy savings varied widely over the workloads, but on average our chip consumed one-seventieth the energy of a CPU, and performed the computation on average eight times as fast. To do this, we had to engineer the hardware, low-level firmware, and software from the ground up to take advantage of sparsity. We hope this is just the beginning of hardware and model development that will allow for more energy-efficient AI. What is sparsity? Neural networks, and the data that feeds into them, are represented as arrays of numbers. These arrays can be one-dimensional (vectors), two-dimensional (matrices), or more (tensors). A sparse vector, matrix, or tensor has mostly zero elements. The level of sparsity varies, but when zeroes make up more than 50 percent of any type of array, it can stand to benefit from sparsity-specific computational methods. In contrast, an object that is not sparse—that is, it has few zeros compared with the total number of elements—is called dense. Sparsity can be naturally present, or it can be induced. For example, a social-network graph will be naturally sparse. Imagine a graph where each node (point) represents a person, and each edge (a line segment connecting the points) represents a friendship. Since most people are not friends with one another, a matrix representing all possible edges will be mostly zeros. Other popular applications of AI, such as other forms of graph learning and recommendation models, contain naturally occurring sparsity as well. Beyond naturally occurring sparsity, sparsity can also be induced within an AI model in several ways. Two years ago, a team at Cerebras showed that one can set up to 70 to 80 percent of parameters in an LLM to zero without losing any accuracy. Cerebras demonstrated these results specifically on Meta’s open-source Llama 7B model, but the ideas extend to other LLM models like ChatGPT and Claude. The case for sparsity Sparse computation’s efficiency stems from two fundamental properties: the ability to compress away zeros and the convenient mathematical properties of zeros. Both the algorithms used in sparse computation and the hardware dedicated to them leverage these two basic ideas. First, sparse data can be compressed, making it more memory efficient to store “sparsely”—that is, in something called a sparse data type. Compression also makes it more energy efficient to move data when dealing with large amounts of it. This is best understood by an example. Take a four-by-four matrix with three nonzero elements. Traditionally, this matrix would be stored in memory as is, taking up 16 spaces. This matrix can also be compressed into a sparse data type, getting rid of the zeros and saving only the nonzero elements. In our example, this results in 13 memory spaces as opposed to 16 for the dense, uncompressed version. These savings in memory increase with increased sparsity and matrix size. In addition to the actual data values, compressed data also requires metadata. The row and column locations of the nonzero elements also must be stored. This is usually thought of as a “fibertree”: The row labels containing nonzero elements are listed and linked to the column labels of the nonzero elements, which are then linked to the values stored in those elements. In memory, things get a bit more complicated still: The row and column labels for each nonzero value must be stored as well as the “segments” that indicate how many such labels to expect, so the metadata and data can be clearly delineated from one another. In a dense, noncompressed matrix data type, values can be accessed either one at a time or in parallel, and their locations can be calculated directly with a simple equation. However, accessing values in sparse, compressed data requires looking up the coordinates of the row index and using that information to “indirectly” look up the coordinates of the column index before finally reaching the value. Depending on the actual locations of the sparse data values, these indirect lookups can be extremely random, making the computation data-dependent and requiring the allocation of memory lookups on the fly. Second, two mathematical properties of zero let software and hardware skip a lot of computation. Multiplying any number by zero will result in a zero, so there’s no need to actually do the multiplication. Adding zero to any number will always return that number, so there’s no need to do the addition either. In matrix-vector multiplication, one of the most common operations in AI workloads, all computations except those involving two nonzero elements can simply be skipped. Take, for example, the four-by-four matrix from the previous example and a vector of four numbers. In dense computation, each element of the vector must be multiplied by the corresponding element in each row and then added together to compute the final vector. In this case, that would take 16 multiplication operations and 16 additions (or four accumulations). In sparse computation, only the nonzero elements of the vector need be considered. For each nonzero vector element, indirect lookup can be used to find any corresponding nonzero matrix element, and only those need to be multiplied and added. In the example shown here, only two multiplication steps will be performed, instead of 16. The trouble with GPUs and CPUs Unfortunately, modern hardware is not well suited to accelerating sparse computation. For example, say we want to perform a matrix-vector multiplication. In the simplest case, in a single CPU core, each element in the vector would be multiplied sequentially and then written to memory. This is slow, because we can do only one multiplication at a time. So instead people use CPUs with vector support or GPUs. With this hardware, all elements would be multiplied in parallel, greatly speeding up the application. Now, imagine that both the matrix and vector contain extremely sparse data. The vectorized CPU and GPU would spend most of their efforts multiplying by zero, performing completely ineffectual computations. Newer generations of GPUs are capable of taking some advantage of sparsity in their hardware, but only a particular kind, called structured sparsity. Structured sparsity assumes that two out of every four adjacent parameters are zero. However, some models benefit more from unstructured sparsity—the ability for any parameter (weight or activation) to be zero and compressed away, regardless of where it is and what it is adjacent to. GPUs can run unstructured sparse computation in software, for example, through the use of the cuSparse GPU library. However, the support for sparse computations is often limited, and the GPU hardware gets underutilized, wasting energy-intensive computations on overhead. Petra Péterffy When doing sparse computations in software, modern CPUs may be a better alternative to GPU computation, because they are designed to be more flexible. Yet, sparse computations on the CPU are often bottlenecked by the indirect lookups used to find nonzero data. CPUs are designed to “prefetch” data based on what they expect they’ll need from memory, but for randomly sparse data, that process often fails to pull in the right stuff from memory. When that happens, the CPU must waste cycles calling for the right data. Apple was the first to speed up these indirect lookups by supporting a method called an array-of-pointers access pattern in the prefetcher of their A14 and M1 chips. Although innovations in prefetching make Apple CPUs more competitive for sparse computation, CPU architectures still have fundamental overheads that a dedicated sparse computing architecture would not, because they need to handle general-purpose computation. Other companies have been developing hardware that accelerates sparse machine learning as well. These include Cerebras’s Wafer Scale Engine and Meta’s Training and Inference Accelerator (MTIA). The Wafer Scale Engine, and its corresponding sparse programming framework, have shown incredibly sparse results of up to 70 percent sparsity on LLMs. However, the company’s hardware and software solutions support only weight sparsity, not activation sparsity, which is important for many applications. The second version of the MTIA claims a sevenfold sparse compute performance boost over the MTIA v1. However, the only publicly available information regarding sparsity support in the MTIA v2 is for matrix multiplication, not for vectors or tensors. Although matrix multiplications take up the majority of computation time in most modern ML models, it’s important to have sparsity support for other parts of the process. To avoid switching back and forth between sparse and dense data types, all of the operations should be sparse. Onyx Instead of these halfway solutions, our team at Stanford has developed a hardware accelerator, Onyx, that can take advantage of sparsity from the ground up, whether it’s structured or unstructured. Onyx is the first programmable accelerator to support both sparse and dense computation; it’s capable of accelerating key operations in both domains. To understand Onyx, it is useful to know what a coarse-grained reconfigurable array (CGRA) is and how it compares with more familiar hardware, like CPUs and field-programmable gate arrays (FPGAs). CPUs, CGRAs, and FPGAs represent a trade-off between efficiency and flexibility. Each individual logic unit of a CPU is designed for a specific function that it performs efficiently. On the other hand, since each individual bit of an FPGA is configurable, these arrays are extremely flexible, but very inefficient. The goal of CGRAs is to achieve the flexibility of FPGAs with the efficiency of CPUs. CGRAs are composed of efficient and configurable units, typically memory and compute, that are specialized for a particular application domain. This is the key benefit of this type of array: Programmers can reconfigure the internals of a CGRA at a high level, making it more efficient than an FPGA but more flexible than a CPU. The Onyx chip, built on a coarse-grained reconfigurable array (CGRA), is the first (to our knowledge) to support both sparse and dense computations. Olivia Hsu Onyx is composed of flexible, programmable processing element (PE) tiles and memory (MEM) tiles. The memory tiles store compressed matrices and other data formats. The processing element tiles operate on compressed matrices, eliminating all unnecessary and ineffectual computation. The Onyx compiler handles conversion from software instructions to CGRA configuration. First, the input expression—for instance, a sparse vector multiplication—is translated into a graph of abstract memory and compute nodes. In this example, there are memories for the input vectors and output vectors, a compute node for finding the intersection between nonzero elements, and a compute node for the multiplication. The compiler figures out how to map the abstract memory and compute nodes onto MEMs and PEs on the CGRA, and then how to route them together so that they can transfer data between them. Finally, the compiler produces the instruction set needed to configure the CGRA for the desired purpose. Since Onyx is programmable, engineers can map many different operations, such as vector-vector element multiplication, or the key tasks in AI, like matrix-vector or matrix-matrix multiplication, onto the accelerator. We evaluated the efficiency gains of our hardware by looking at the product of energy used and the time it took to compute, called the energy-delay product (EDP). This metric captures the trade-off of speed and energy. Minimizing just energy would lead to very slow devices, and minimizing speed would lead to high-area, high-power devices. Onyx achieves up to 565 times as much energy-delay product over CPUs (we used a 12-core Intel Xeon CPU) that utilize dedicated sparse libraries. Onyx can also be configured to accelerate regular, dense applications, similar to the way a GPU or TPU would. If the computation is sparse, Onyx is configured to use sparse primitives, and if the computation is dense, Onyx is reconfigured to take advantage of parallelism, similar to how GPUs function. This architecture is a step toward a single system that can accelerate both sparse and dense computations on the same silicon. Just as important, Onyx enables new algorithmic thinking. Sparse acceleration hardware will not only make AI more performance- and energy efficient but also enable researchers and engineers to explore new algorithms that have the potential to dramatically improve AI. The future with sparsity Our team is already working on next-generation chips built off of Onyx. Beyond matrix multiplication operations, machine learning models perform other types of math, like nonlinear layers, normalization, the softmax function, and more. We are adding support for the full range of computations on our next-gen accelerator and within the compiler. Since sparse machine learning models may have both sparse and dense layers, we are also working on integrating the dense and sparse accelerator architecture more efficiently on the chip, allowing for fast transformation between the different data types. We’re also looking at ways to manage memory constraints by breaking up the sparse data more effectively so we can run computations on several sparse accelerator chips. We are also working on systems that can predict the performance of accelerators such as ours, which will help in designing better hardware for sparse AI. Longer term, we’re interested in seeing whether high degrees of sparsity throughout AI computation will catch on with more model types, and whether sparse accelerators become adopted at a larger scale. Building the hardware to unstructured sparsity and optimally take advantage of zeros is just the beginning. With this hardware in hand, AI researchers and engineers will have the opportunity to explore new models and algorithms that leverage sparsity in novel and creative ways. We see this as a crucial research area for managing the ever-increasing runtime, costs, and environmental impact of AI.
According to the Russian Foreign Ministry, the parties thoroughly exchanged views on the situation around Iran’s nuclear program, particularly in light of the upcoming International Atomic Energy Agency Board of Governors meeting
Fernand Kartheiser described Russia’s approach to resolving the conflict in Ukraine as "strategic patience"
Ali Khamenei added that the US and other countries are not interested in Iran's progress and have put forward conditions presupposing a complete halt of uranium enrichment on Iranian territory