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			 But as refineries churn out this so-called cellulosic fuel, it has 
			become clear, even to the industry's allies, that the benefits 
			remain, as ever, years away. 
 			The failure so far of cellulosic fuel is central to the debate over 
			corn-based ethanol, a centerpiece of America's green-energy 
			strategy. Ethanol from corn has proven far more damaging to the 
			environment than the government predicted, and cellulosic fuel 
			hasn't emerged as a replacement.
 			"A lot of people were willing to go with corn ethanol because it's a 
			bridge product," said Silvia Secchi, an agricultural economist at 
			Southern Illinois University.
 			But until significant cellulosic fuel materializes, she said, "It's 
			a bridge to nowhere."
 			Cellulosics were the linchpin of part of a landmark 2007 energy law 
			that required oil companies to blend billions of gallons of biofuel 
			into America's gasoline supply. The quota was to be met first by 
			corn ethanol and then, in later years, by more fuels made with 
			non-food sources. 			
 
 			It hasn't worked out.
 			"Cellulosic has been five years away for 20 years now," said 
			Nathanael Greene, a biofuels expert at the Natural Resources Defense 
			Council. "Now the first projects are up and running, but actually 
			it's still five years away."
 			Cellulosic makers are expected to turn out at most 6 million gallons 
			of fuel this year, the government says. That's enough fuel to meet 
			U.S. demand for 11 minutes. It's less than 1 percent of what 
			Congress initially required to be on the market this year.
 			Corn ethanol is essentially as simple to make as moonshine but 
			requires fossil fuels to plant, grow and distill. For that reason, 
			it has limited environmental benefits and some drastic side effects.
 			Cellulosic biofuels, meanwhile, are made from grass, municipal waste 
			or the woody, non-edible parts of plants — all of which take less 
			land and energy to produce. Cellulosics offer a huge reduction in 
			greenhouse gases compared with petroleum-based fuels and they don't 
			use food sources.
 			In Vero Beach, Fla., for example, agricultural waste and trash are 
			being turned into ethanol. In Columbus, Miss., yellow pine wood 
			chips are being turned into gasoline and diesel. In Emmetsburg, 
			Iowa, and Hugoton, Kan., construction is nearly complete on large 
			refineries that will turn corncobs, leaves and stalks into ethanol.
 			But despite the mandate and government subsidies, cellulosic fuels 
			haven't performed. This year will be the fourth in a row the 
			biofuels industry failed by large margins to meet required targets 
			for cellulosic biofuels.
 			"Has it taken longer than we expected? Yes," acknowledges 
			Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack.
 			The Obama administration's annual estimates of cellulosic fuel 
			production have proven wildly inaccurate. In 2010, the 
			administration projected 5 million gallons would be available. In 
			2011, it raised the projection to 6.6 million.
 			Both years, the total was zero. 			
 
 			The administration defended its projections, saying it was trying to 
			use the biofuel law as a way to promote development of cellulosic 
			fuel. But the projections were so far off that, in January, a 
			federal appeals court said the administration improperly let its 
			"aspirations" for cellulosic fuel influence its analysis.
 			Even with the first few plants running, supporters acknowledge there 
			is almost no chance to meet the law's original yearly targets that 
			top out at 16 billion gallons by 2022.
 			"It's simply not plausible," said Jeremy Martin, a biofuels expert 
			at the Union of Concerned Scientists. "2030 is the soonest you can 
			anticipate it to be at that level."
 			The EPA is weighing how deeply to reduce targets for cellulosic 
			fuels for next year and beyond. Biofuel supporters want higher 
			targets to spur investment in new facilities. Opponents want low 
			targets to reflect what's available in the market and the chronic 
			underperformance of cellulosic makers. 			
 
 			
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			Cellulosic's great promise will likely be enough to keep it in the 
			Obama administration's favor.
 			"There seems to be recognition among the administration that 
			cellulosic fuels haven't met the targets, but there's still support 
			for them," said Timothy Cheung, an analyst at ClearView Energy 
			Partners, a Washington research and consulting firm.
 			Cellulosic fuels have lagged expectations for several reasons. For 
			one, expectations were simply set too high. To attract support from 
			Washington and money from investors, the industry underestimated and 
			understated the difficulty of turning cellulose into fuel.
 			Cellulose is the stuff that makes plants strong, and it has evolved 
			over several hundred million years to resist being broken down by 
			heat, chemicals or microbes. That makes it difficult to produce 
			these fuels fast enough, cheap enough or on a large enough scale to 
			make economic sense.
 			The industry was also dealt a setback by the global financial 
			crisis, which all but stopped commercial lending soon after the 
			biofuel mandates were established in 2007.
 			Hundreds of companies failed that had attracted hundreds of millions 
			of dollars from venture capitalists and government financing.
 			Sometimes the microbes or chemical treatments used to break down the 
			plant matter were too expensive or didn't work fast enough.
 			Other times, the problems were more prosaic. Range Fuels, based in 
			Colorado, failed because money dried up before it could fine-tune 
			the machine that fed wood chips into a gassifier. KiOR, a Texas 
			company making cellulosic gasoline and diesel in Mississippi, was 
			delayed recently by a power failure, sending its stock price 
			plummeting. The company has since fixed the problem, and is shipping 
			fuel. 			
			
			 
 			To supporters, these setbacks are neither surprising nor evidence of 
			failure. Companies are trying to deliver enormous amounts of fuel 
			using a complex, expensive process that has never been tried before.
 			"We may be three years late, but it doesn't make any difference 
			globally over the long term," says Manuel Sanchez Ortega, chief 
			executive of Abengoa, a Spanish engineering firm building a 
			cellulosic ethanol plant in Kansas. "The first deep-water oil 
			platform was not profitable. The first airplane was not profitable. 
			The important thing is that it is working."
 			At 25 million gallons of annual output per plant, it would take the 
			construction of 640 of these bio-refineries to meet the law's 
			original goal.
 			Before investors trust the technology enough to finance construction 
			of new facilities, several plants must work consistently at or near 
			full capacity and show that they can make money for a year or more.
 			To Martin, cellulosic fuels are too important to stop trying to 
			perfect them.
 			"The transition to looking beyond food for biofuels is as important 
			today as it was in in 2007," he said. "If we can't do it as fast as 
			we thought we could, it doesn't mean we should give up." [Associated 
			Press; JONATHAN FAHEY] Copyright 2013 The Associated 
			Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, 
			broadcast, rewritten or redistributed. 
			
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