Community solar was supposed to democratize clean energy — letting families save money, supporting the grid, and sharing the benefits of renewable power. But in practice, Maryland’s community solar program has become a case study in inequality. Developers capture millions in guaranteed revenue and subsidies, while residents and rural counties are left with crumbs and locked-up land.
Look at the math. A typical 5-megawatt solar farm produces about 8,000 megawatt-hours per year. That’s worth nearly a million dollars in utility bill credits, plus another half-million or more from Maryland’s renewable energy credits. Add in federal tax subsidies that cover up to 60% of upfront costs, and the developer is pocketing $1.3–$1.5 million every single year with little risk.
Now compare that to the “benefit” for households. Maryland law guarantees a 10% discount for most subscribers and 20% for low- and moderate-income households. That translates into about $100 a year for non-LMI families and $200 for LMI families. Across all 700-plus households in a project, total customer savings amount to maybe $100,000 to $150,000 annually. The developer captures ten times that.
The inequality doesn’t stop there. Risk is pushed onto families. Subscribe to too much solar and unused credits are cashed out at pennies on the dollar. Subscribe to too little and you pay full price for the rest of your power. Developers get steady payments either way.
Fixed charges keep rising. Community solar discounts apply only to the supply portion of the bill. Delivery, infrastructure, and taxes keep climbing, untouched.
Households never feel real relief, even if they technically get a discount.
Rural counties carry the burden. Projects are overwhelmingly sited on cheap farmland and employment-zoned land. Once fenced and leased for 20–30 years, these sites produce no jobs, no housing, no agricultural output — just industrial power exported to the PJM grid. Rural landscapes are sacrificed so developers can chase tax credits and SREC revenue.
Kent County, along with other rural counties, is being asked to carry this burden right now. Halo, Turning Point Energy, and other developers are lining up projects on our farmland, on employment-zoned properties, and — in the case of Betterton — blocking emergency helicopter service and consuming the town’s only viable parcel for new housing stock. Altogether, five Community Solar projects are lined up at the Public Service Commission right now awaiting CPCN approvals, while a smaller project sits before the Kent County Planning Department. This of course does not include the utility scale solar energy generation plant, Morgnec Road Solar, already approved and scaring the land.
On paper, community solar lets legislators in Annapolis claim progress on climate, equity, and on reaching Maryland’s renewable energy goals. They have chosen a pathway, and instead of analyzing and admitting that perhaps their intent was good, but their chosen approach needs correction, they are sticking to the plan. Meanwhile, as energy prices in Maryland continue to climb, developers get their subsidies and make millions for their investors, politicians get their green talking points, and rural Maryland pays the price.
That is the real inequality. Not just the one between developers and households, but the deeper inequality between the legislative agenda in Annapolis and the rural communities being asked to carry its burden.