Concentrated solar thermal technology, demonstrated by Frank Shuman's 1913 Egyptian plant achieving 55-70% thermal efficiency (three times more efficient than modern photovoltaic panels at 18-22%), was deliberately suppressed through post-WWI oil abundance, Department of Energy research funding decisions favoring patentable silicon wafers over curved mirrors, and utility-driven policy structures that created financing and infrastructure only for grid-tied PV systems, despite thermal systems offering superior efficiency, thermal energy storage capabilities, and lower costs for residential applications.
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PV Solar Panels Suck — This BANNED Home Solar System Is 3X More EfficientAdded:
In 1913, a Philadelphia engineer named Frank Shuman built a solar plant in the Egyptian desert that generated 88 horsepower of pure thermal energy using nothing but curved mirrors and steam.
The British government funded it. The Germans were terrified of it. And then World War I broke out, cheap oil flooded the market, and Shuman's blueprints were quietly buried in a London archive where they sat untouched for almost a century.
Here's the part nobody talks about. His system was over three times more efficient than the photovoltaic panels sitting on your neighbor's roof right now.
So, why has every single home solar installer in America spent the last 20 years selling you flat blue rectangles that lose 80% of the sun's energy as waste heat when the technology to capture three times more power per square foot was demonstrated, patented, [music] and proven before your great-grandfather was born?
The answer is going to make you genuinely angry because it has almost nothing to do with science and almost everything to do with who controls the grid you're plugged into. Let me show you what's actually happening on your roof.
A standard monocrystalline solar panel, the kind Tesla and SunRun and every other installer pushes on homeowners, has a real-world efficiency between 18 and 22%.
That number comes straight from the National Renewable Energy Laboratory, and it's been essentially frozen for the better part of 15 years. What does that mean in practice?
It means that when 1,000 watts of solar energy hit 1 square meter of your roof, your panel converts about 200 of those watts into electricity, the other 800 wasted, turned into heat that actually makes the panel less efficient the hotter it gets.
There's a guy on the EcoRenovator forum who logged his rooftop array for three summers in Arizona and watched his output drop by almost a third every time panel temperature crossed 65° C. He wasn't doing anything wrong. That's just physics. Silicon hates heat.
The hotter your panel, the worse it performs, which is the cruelest joke in renewable energy because the sunniest places on Earth are also the hottest.
Now, compare that to what Schuman built in Maadi, Egypt in 1913.
Five parabolic troughs, each about 200 ft long, made of polished sheet metal arranged in a curve that focused sunlight onto a central pipe filled with water.
The concentrated solar energy boiled the water, the steam drove a engine, and the engine pumped 6,000 gallons of irrigation water per minute out of the Nile. The thermal to mechanical efficiency of that system, when later analyzed by engineers at MIT in the 1970s during the oil crisis, came in somewhere between 55% and 70%, depending on how you measured it. Three to three and a half times what your rooftop array does today. And [music] the materials?
Sheet metal, glass, water, copper pipe.
Nothing exotic, nothing rare earth, nothing that requires a Chinese refinery to produce.
So, what happened? Why isn't every house in Phoenix and Albuquerque and Las Vegas running on a backyard concentrator system right now? This is where the story gets ugly.
In 1915, the Ottoman government, watching Schuman's success in Egypt, committed to building a 20,000 horsepower concentrated solar plant in the Sahara.
The project was on the verge of approval. Then the assassination in Sarajevo happened. The war started. The British pulled engineers out of Egypt, and Schuman died in 1918 before he could restart his work.
After the war, oil from Texas and the Persian Gulf became so absurdly cheap that no investor would touch solar thermal for the next 60 years. The patents expired, the blueprints were filed, the expertise scattered, and when solar finally came back into public consciousness in the 1970s, the US Department of Energy made a fateful decision. They poured the overwhelming majority of their renewable research budget into photovoltaic cells, the silicon chip approach, because PV was sexier, more high-tech, and crucially it could be patented in ways that thermal concentrators could not. You can't really patent a curved mirror. You can absolutely patent a doped silicon wafer with a proprietary anti-reflective coating.
This is the part where someone in the comments always says, "Well, photovoltaic must be better, otherwise the market would have chosen it." The market didn't choose anything. Subsidies chose. Tax credits chose. Net metering rules written by utility lobbyists chose.
The federal investment tax credit, which has paid out tens of billions of dollars since 2006, is structured almost entirely around grid-tied photovoltaic systems.
If you wanted to build a concentrated solar thermal system at home, you were largely on your own. No installer to call, no financing program, no local rebate.
The infrastructure was deliberately built around one technology and one technology only, and the homeowner was never given a real choice.
Here's what makes this even more infuriating. Concentrated solar thermal isn't just more efficient at making electricity. It does something photovoltaic panels physically cannot do. It stores energy.
When you concentrate sunlight onto a working fluid, you can keep that fluid hot in an insulated tank for hours, sometimes days.
The Solana plant in Arizona, built in 2013, uses molten salt thermal storage to keep generating power 6 hours after the sun goes down. Your rooftop PV array, the second a cloud passes overhead, your production drops by half.
The second the sun sets, you're buying power from the utility at retail prices while they paid you wholesale prices for whatever you sent them during the day.
That spread, the difference between what they pay you and what they charge you, is how utilities have quietly turned the rooftop solar boom into one of the most profitable business models in their history. You bought the panels, you took on the debt, they take the margin.
There's a thread on Reddit's r/solar from about 2 years ago where a guy in New Mexico documented building a small parabolic dish system in his backyard, about 8 ft across, focused onto a Stirling engine he'd bought from a surplus military auction.
His total cost was around $1,800.
His peak output was 1.2 kW of mechanical power, which he converted to electricity with a small generator head. Per square foot of collection area, he was generating roughly three times what an equivalent area of PV would have produced, >> [music] >> and his system kept running for almost an hour after sunset because of residual heat in the receiver. The comments are a mix of fascination and people telling him he's going to burn his house down.
The truth is, he wasn't doing anything fundamentally different from what Shuman did in 1913 or what the Solana plant does at industrial scale today. He was just doing it in his backyard, which is the part the industry doesn't want you to think is possible. And it gets better because once you're producing heat directly instead of electricity, you can do things that PV simply cannot. You can run an absorption chiller to air condition your house using solar heat instead of solar electricity, which is wildly more efficient. You can heat your domestic hot water for free, which in most American homes is the second largest energy expense after space heating. You can heat your pool. You can dry your laundry. You can dehydrate food.
Every one of those tasks, when run on solar thermal directly, bypasses the conversion losses that make photovoltaic systems so frustrating. The average home in the US uses about 30% of its energy for heating water and space heating.
If you handle those loads with solar thermal and only use a small PV array for lights and electronics, your total system cost can drop by half or more compared to trying to electrify everything with rooftop panels and a power wall. If you've made it this far, you're already seeing what the solar industry has worked very hard to keep most homeowners from ever realizing that the panels they're selling you are the least efficient way to use the sun that's been invented in the last 150 years.
And if you want the full breakdown, the actual measurements, the working fluid options, the parabolic geometry, the receiver designs, the safety protocols, and the wiring diagrams for combining thermal and [music] small PV in a hybrid home system the way off-grid families have quietly been doing for decades, it's all laid out step-by-step in the manual, link in the description below.
Everything I'm describing here, with the materials lists, the source suppliers, and the permitting workarounds, is in there.
Now, let me get into the technology that scared the utility industry the most, because it's not even concentrated solar in the classical sense.
>> [music] >> It's something called a compound parabolic concentrator, developed at the University of Chicago in the 1970s by a physicist named Roland Winston.
Winston figured out that you don't need to track the sun like a parabolic trough does. You can design a non-imaging concentrator with a wider acceptance angle that captures sunlight over a much longer portion of the day without moving parts.
His designs achieved concentration ratios of three to 10 times with zero tracking hardware. That means you can mount them on a roof, point them roughly south, and forget about them for the next 20 years.
They have no motors, no gears, no failure points, and they pair beautifully with evacuated tube collectors, which can produce temperatures of 200° C or higher even on cold winter days.
China figured this out. Right now, China has more installed solar thermal capacity than the rest of the world combined.
There are roughly 70 million Chinese households with rooftop solar thermal water heaters, most of them evacuated tube systems that cost a few hundred dollars and last 15 to 20 years.
In a country like Germany, where solar PV gets all the headlines, solar thermal still provides more usable energy per capita to households than PV does. The technology works. It's been working.
The reason it didn't take hold in the United States is not technical and not economic at the household level. It's that the American energy market was structured from the ground up to reward centralized electricity generation, and solar thermal is the opposite of centralized. It's hyper local.
It happens on your roof, >> [music] >> in your basement, in your hot water tank, and the utility never gets to touch it. There's a story about Jimmy Carter installing solar thermal panels on the White House roof in 1979.
Everyone remembers that part. What people forget is that those panels weren't photovoltaic.
They were solar hot water collectors.
They worked. They saved the White House money on heating bills for the seven years they were operational.
And in 1986, the Reagan administration ordered them taken down and put into storage.
>> [music] >> The official reason was roof maintenance.
The unofficial reason, uh, according to Department of Energy staff who were there at the time and were later interviewed by reporters, was that the panels had become a political symbol of an energy philosophy the new administration wanted to bury.
They were never reinstalled. Some of the panels eventually ended up at Unity College in Maine. One is in the Smithsonian. The technology didn't fail.
It was unplugged. Now, here's where I have to talk about something that the modern solar industry will absolutely deny because it cuts directly into their business model. Photovoltaic panels degrade.
Every panel on every roof in America is losing somewhere between half a percent and 1% of its output every year. And after 20 to 25 years, manufacturers consider them at end of life.
There's an enormous waste stream coming.
Hundreds of thousands of tons of panels containing cadmium, lead, and other heavy metals. And there's currently no profitable recycling pathway for any of it. The Harvard Business Review ran an analysis in 2021 estimating that the actual lifetime cost of solar PV, including disposal, is roughly four times what the marketing materials claim.
A solar thermal collector, by contrast, is essentially a copper pipe behind a piece of glass with some insulation.
There's nothing to degrade in any meaningful way.
Properly built systems from the 1980s are still in operation today. The maintenance cost is checking the fluid every few years and occasionally replacing a circulator pump that costs $40.
So, why isn't this on every roof? Why is your contractor pushing panels? The answer is incentives. Federal tax credit pays you 30% of the cost of a PV system.
State rebate pays you another chunk.
Utility net metering pays you for excess production. Financing is set up.
Installers are trained. The whole machine is built around one outcome.
A solar thermal system, even though it would save you more money per dollar invested over its lifetime, doesn't plug into any of that infrastructure cleanly.
The tax credit technically covers some thermal applications, but try finding a contractor who knows how to file the paperwork. Try finding a lender who will finance it. Try finding an installer who has the parts in stock.
The supply chain was deliberately starved while the PV supply chain was deliberately fattened, and now we have an entire industry insisting that the more efficient, longer-lasting, cheaper technology somehow doesn't exist.
There's a homesteader community in Eastern Tennessee that I've been following for a few years where families have been quietly building hybrid systems [music] that pair small PV arrays for lights and electronics with concentrated solar thermal for everything heat related. Their total electricity bills in some cases are under $20 a month, and that's including buying grid power as backup.
One family I read about runs a 400 square foot greenhouse, three bedroom house, hot water for five people, and laundry drying entirely on solar thermal with a 30-year payback already 2/3 complete. They built it themselves over about three summers using mostly salvaged materials. Total cost under $4,000.
Compare that to the average residential PV installation in the US, which runs between 20 and 30,000 dollars before incentives, and you start to see why this information gets buried. The physics of why concentration works is actually elegant. Sunlight at the Earth's surface arrives at about a kilowatt per square meter on a clear day.
If you take a square meter of mirror and focus that light onto an area of 1/10 of a square meter, you've increased the energy flux by 10 times to 10 kilowatts per square meter on the receiver. The receiver, which is a small black absorber pipe with a working fluid inside, can reach temperatures that would never be possible with diffuse sunlight hitting a flat surface.
Higher temperatures mean higher thermodynamic efficiency when converting heat into mechanical work or electricity. This is the Carnot principle, which has been understood since 1824.
A flat PV panel is fundamentally limited by what's called the Shockley-Queisser limit, around 33% for single-junction silicon, and in practice we get about 22.
A thermal system has no such hard ceiling. The hotter you can run your receiver, the more efficient you can be, with engineering limits well above 50% in residential-scale applications. And here's something almost nobody mentions: concentrated solar systems work in winter. They work in cold weather better than PV does in some ways because the absorber stays hot inside its evacuated tube while the cold air outside doesn't drain heat from it. The University of Minnesota did a study in 2018 that showed evacuated tube solar thermal collectors in Minneapolis produced usable hot water on roughly 300 days per year, including in January when temperatures dropped to minus 20. The same study found that flat-plate PV in those conditions was producing essentially nothing during the December and January window. If you live anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon Line and you're being sold rooftop photovoltaic as a primary heating solution, you're being sold a fantasy. Solar thermal with proper insulation and storage is the only solar technology that actually carries you through a real winter.
The objections start coming in here.
What about freezing? What about leaks?
What about cloudy days? All of these have been solved for decades.
Drain-back systems automatically empty the collector loop when temperatures drop. Propylene glycol mixtures, the same stuff in your car's coolant, prevent freezing in pressurized systems.
Modern evacuated tubes have less than half a percent annual failure rate.
Cloudy day performance is actually better than PV in many cases because evacuated tubes can absorb diffuse radiation efficiently while PV needs direct sunlight to perform well. None of this is mysterious.
None of it requires a graduate degree.
It's been documented in technical manuals since the 1970s, and most of those manuals are now public domain and freely available. You just have to know they exist.
The deepest irony is that the original solar pioneers in America, the people who built the first viable solar industry in the 1920s and 30s in places like Florida and Southern California, were almost all thermal people. There were tens of thousands of solar water heaters installed in Miami alone before World War II. They were standard equipment in new homes.
Then natural gas came in cheap after the war and the entire industry collapsed in about 10 years. By 1960, almost every one of those systems had been removed or abandoned. The infrastructure of installers, parts suppliers, and trained plumbers evaporated.
When solar came back in the 1970s, all that institutional knowledge had to be rebuilt from scratch and the political and financial environment by then was hostile to anything that wasn't a high-tech, patentable, centralized solution.
So, where does that leave you? Sitting in your house, looking at your electricity bill, watching your neighbor's PV array bake on a 95° afternoon while producing 30% less than it should because of heat derating? It leaves you with a choice that the solar industry doesn't want you to know you have.
You can keep paying $25,000 for a system that loses most of the sun's energy as waste heat, takes 10 to 15 years to pay back, and starts degrading the day you install it.
Or you can learn what Frank Shuman knew in 1913, what the Chinese figured out in the 1990s, and what off-grid homesteaders have been quietly perfecting for 50 years.
The sun is a thermal resource first and an electrical resource second, and any technology that doesn't respect that fundamental hierarchy is fighting physics from the moment it's turned on.
The companies selling you panels would much rather you didn't know any of this.
The utilities certainly would rather you didn't know.
The politicians who built the subsidy structures around photovoltaic would prefer this conversation never happened, but the information is out there. The parts are still available. The [music] math still works.
And a determined homeowner with basic mechanical skills can put together a system that outperforms anything on the residential market today at a fraction [music] of the cost. The patents are expired. The blueprints are public.
The only thing standing between you and a roof that actually captures three times more energy than your neighbors is the willingness to look past the marketing and learn what's been hiding in plain sight for over a century. If this changed how you think about what's actually on your roof, do me one favor before you click away. Go look up Shuman's 1913 plant. Look at the photographs and ask yourself why a system that worked that well that long ago with materials that simple somehow became something almost nobody has ever heard of. The answer to that question is the answer to almost everything wrong with how we generate energy in this country. And [music] once you see it, you can't unsee it. And once you start pulling that thread, [music] the whole sweater unravels in ways that are genuinely uncomfortable to sit with because Shuman wasn't some lone eccentric tinkering in a garage.
He had backing from Lord Kitchener himself. The British War Office was watching his Meadi installation with serious interest. And the German government had already committed funding to build a much larger version in their African colonies before the First World War interrupted everything.
The project at Meadi pumped 6,000 gallons of water per minute from the Nile using nothing but sunlight hitting long parabolic troughs.
And it did this in 1913 with hand rolled mirrors and locally fabricated steel.
The boilers ran at temperatures hot enough to drive a 63 horsepower engine continuously through the daylight hours.
And Shuman calculated that a plant covering 20,000 square miles of the Sahara could produce more energy than the entire fossil fuel output of the planet at that time.
He published these numbers in Scientific American in February 1914 [music] and nobody who read them thought he was crazy. They thought he was right.
Then August came, the assassination in Sarajevo cascaded into global war, the steel and copper and skilled labor needed to expand the Meadi plant got redirected to artillery shells and naval vessels and Shuman himself died in 1918 before he could restart the project. The mirrors at Meadi were eventually scrapped for the metal during the Second World War. The site is a parking lot now and every single engineer who picked up solar thermal research in the decades that followed had to essentially reinvent what Shuman had already proven because the institutional memory had been wiped clean by two world wars and a depression that made cheap oil look like the only sensible path forward.
Consider what happened in 1973 when the oil embargo hit and suddenly the United States government remembered that the sun existed.
The Department of Energy, newly formed under Carter, poured roughly $6 billion in today's money into solar research between 1974 and 1981.
A significant chunk of that went to a facility called Solar One in the Mojave Desert, which used 10 megawatts worth of heliostats to focus sunlight on a central tower filled with molten salt.
The plant worked.
It generated electricity through the night by drawing on the heat stored in those salt tanks, achieving capacity factors that photovoltaic installations still cannot match four decades later.
Solar One ran successfully from 1982 to 1988, was upgraded to Solar Two and ran until 1999 and demonstrated conclusively that thermal storage was not just viable but commercially competitive even with natural gas prices at historic lows.
And then Reagan came in, cut the solar budget by 90%, removed the solar panels Carter had installed on the White House roof in a gesture that was almost theatrical in its symbolism, and redirected energy research funding toward nuclear and fossil priorities.
The engineers who had spent a decade learning how to build these systems were laid off or reassigned. The companies that had been forming around the technology either folded or pivoted to other industries.
By the time solar funding came back in any serious way under the Obama administration 30 years later, the entire knowledge base had to be rebuilt from scratch.
And by then photovoltaic had captured the cultural imagination so thoroughly that thermal was treated as a quaint historical curiosity rather than the dominant technology it actually was through most of solar's productive history. You can still drive out to Daggett, California, and see the foundations of Solar One. There's almost nothing left above ground.
The mirrors were sold off, the tower was demolished in 2009, and the only thing marking the site is a small plaque that most visitors miss entirely. A few miles away, the Ivanpah facility, built in 2014, uses essentially the same principles, but cost $2.2 billion to construct, in part because all of the institutional knowledge from Solar One had to be reverse engineered by a new generation of engineers working from scattered technical papers and the memories of retired specialists.
This is what I mean when I say the suppression isn't a conspiracy in the dramatic sense. Nobody sat in a smoke-filled room and decided to bury thermal solar. What happened is that every time the technology got close to mainstream adoption, the economic incentives of the moment pulled capital and attention elsewhere.
And the cumulative effect of those decisions over a century is that we now live in a world where the average homeowner has literally never heard of the technology that would actually solve their energy bills.
The marketing budgets of the photovoltaic industry now exceed the entire research budgets that thermal solar received during its peak funding years.
When you Google home solar, you get pages and pages of panel installers, financing companies, and lease arrangements, and you have to dig through dozens of results before you find any mention of evacuated tubes or parabolic concentrators or the kind of integrated thermal systems that homesteaders in Vermont and Colorado have been quietly running for decades.
I want to give you some specific numbers to make this concrete because abstractions are easy to dismiss and details are harder to argue with. A standard residential photovoltaic installation in the United States in 2024 costs roughly $3 per watt installed before tax credits and produces electricity at a levelized cost somewhere between 11 and 15 cents per kilowatt-hour over its 25-year warranty period. That's a real number.
That's the number the industry quotes, and it sounds reasonable until you understand what you're actually buying.
You're buying electricity that has to be used immediately or sold back to the grid at wholesale rates, which in most utility territories means you're getting paid about 3 cents per kilowatt-hour for power. You'd otherwise pay 15 cents to buy back 4 hours later when the sun goes down. The arbitrage is brutal.
Net metering, where it still exists, is being systematically dismantled in state after state, and homeowners who install panels expecting 20-year payback periods are watching their economics deteriorate in real time.
A comparable thermal installation sized to handle domestic hot water, space heating, and a Stirling or organic Rankine cycle generator for electricity costs roughly $4,000 to $7,000 in materials if you source the components yourself and do your own labor. The evacuated tube collectors run about to $120 per square meter delivered.
The insulated storage tank can be built from a converted propane tank or constructed on site from concrete and foam board for under $1,000.
The heat exchangers are standard industrial components available from any plumbing supply house. The control electronics are simpler than what you'd find in a modern dishwasher.
And the system, once installed, will run for 40 to 50 years with minimal maintenance because there are no semiconductor junctions to degrade, no inverters to fail, and no rare earth elements that need to be mined out of conflict zones in Central Africa. The labor is real. I won't pretend otherwise. Putting together a thermal system requires plumbing skills, some basic electrical knowledge, the patience to insulate every joint and run properly, and a willingness to read technical documentation that wasn't written by marketing departments. It's not a weekend project. A motivated homeowner working part-time can put together a complete system over the course of 3 to 6 months, and the learning curve is steep at the beginning. But, the knowledge is transferable, the skills are useful for a thousand other projects around the house, and the satisfaction of running a system you built yourself that you understand at every component level is the kind of self-reliance that used to be normal in this country before we outsourced our domestic infrastructure to subscription services. There are people doing this right now, today, in every state in the union, and you won't find them on Instagram or TikTok because they're too busy actually living their lives to perform their lifestyles for an audience. There's a community in Southern Oregon where roughly 40 households share design templates and bulk order components from suppliers in China and Germany.
There's a network of Mennonite builders in Pennsylvania who have been refining thermal design since the 1970s, and who will sell you a complete system installed for less than what a mid-range photovoltaic array costs from the national installers.
There's a research group at Colorado State University that has been publishing detailed performance data on residential thermal systems for 15 years, and almost nobody outside the field has ever read their papers.
The information asymmetry here is the entire game. The companies that profit from photovoltaic installations have every incentive to keep you focused on their product.
The utilities that benefit from controlling the grid have every incentive to keep distributed thermal storage out of the conversation.
The political class that has built careers around the green energy narrative as it currently exists has every incentive to treat any deviation from that narrative as either dangerous heresy or fringe conspiracy thinking.
And the result is a public discourse around home energy that is so narrow, so commercially captured, and so divorced from the actual physics of capturing sunlight that most people genuinely believe photovoltaic panels are the only option worth considering.
So, when you look at your roof and you imagine what could be up there, I want you to picture something different than what the salesman showed you. Picture a bank of evacuated tubes angled toward the southern sky, glowing slightly in the late afternoon as the working fluid inside them reaches 300°.
Picture an insulated tank in your basement, the size of a small car, holding enough thermal energy to heat your house for a week of cloudy weather.
Picture a small generator humming quietly in a utility room producing electricity from temperature differences with no moving parts more complex than a refrigerator compressor.
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