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Here’s a grim fact: The most destructive fires in recent American history swept over a state with the country’s strictest wildfire-specific building code, including in some of the neighborhoods that are now largely smoldering rubble.
California’s wildfire building code, Chapter 7A, went into effect in 2008, and it mandates fire-resistant siding, tempered glass, vegetation management, and vents for attics and crawlspaces designed to resist embers and flames. The code is the “most robust” in the nation, Lisa Dale, a lecturer at the Columbia Climate School and a former environmental policy advisor for the State of Colorado, told me. It applies to nearly any newly built structure in one of the zones mapped out by state and local officials as especially prone to fire hazard.
The adoption of 7A followed years of code development and mapping of hazardous areas, largely in response to devastating urban wildfires such as the Tunnel Fire, which claimed more than 3,000 structures and 25 lives in Oakland and Berkeley in 1991, and kicked off renewed efforts to harden Californian homes.
The Federal Emergency Management Agency’s report on the 1991 fire makes for familiar reading as the Palisades and Eaton fires still smolder. The wildland-urban interface, it says, was put at extreme risk by a combination of dry air, little rainfall, hot winds blowing east to west, built-up vegetation that was too close to homes, steep hills, and limited access to municipal water. The report also castigates the “unregulated use of wood shingles as roof and siding material.”
This was not the first time a destructive fire on the wildland-urban interface had been partially attributed to ignitable building materials. The 1961 Bel-Air fire, for instance, which claimed almost 200 homes, including that of Burt Lancaster, and the 1959 Laurel Canyon fire were both, FEMA said, evidence of “the wood roof and separation from natural fuels problems,” as were fires in 1970 and 1980 near where the Tunnel Fire eventually struck in 1970 and 1980.
But it was the sheer scale of the Tunnel Fire that prompted action by California lawmakers.
Throughout the 1990s, fire-resilient roofing requirements were ramped up, designating which materials were allowed in fire hazard areas and throughout the state. By all accounts, the building code works — but only when and where it’s in force. Dale told me that compliant homes were five times as likely to survive a wildfire. Research by economists Judson Boomhower and Patrick Baylis found that the code “reduced average structure loss risk during a wildfire by 16 percentage points, or about a 40% reduction.”
“The challenge from the perspective of wildfire vulnerability is that those codes are relatively recent, and the housing stock turns over really slowly, so we have this enormous stock of already built homes in dangerous places that are going to be out there for decades,” Boomhower told me.
The 7A building code applies only to new buildings, however. In long-settled areas of California like Pacific Palisades, which has little new housing construction or even existing home turnover due to high costs and permitting complications, especially in areas under the jurisdiction of the California Coastal Commission, many houses are not just failing to comply with Chapter 7A, but also with any housing code at all.
Looking at which homes had survived past fires, Steve Quarles, who helped advise the California State Fire Marshal on developing 7A, told me, “What really mattered was if it was built under any building code.” Many homes destroyed by the fires in Los Angeles likely were not. In Pacific Palisades, fire management is a frequent topic of concern and discussion. But as late as 2018, local media in Pacific Palisades noted that the area still had some homes with wood shingle roofs.
While a complete inventory of homes lost in the Palisades and Eaton fires has yet to be taken, the neighborhoods were full of older homes. According to CalFire incident reports, of the almost 47,000 structures in the zone of the Palisades Fire, more than 8,000 were built before 1939, and 44,560 were built before 2009. For the Eaton Fire area, of the around 41,000 structures, almost 14,000 were built before 1939, and only around 1,000 were built since 2010.
A Pacific Palisades home designed by architect Greg Chasen and built in 2024, however, survived the fire and went viral on X after he posted a photo of it still standing after the flames had moved through. The home embodied some of the best practices for fire-safe building, according to Bloomberg, including keeping vegetation away from the building, a metal roof, tempered glass, and fire-resistant siding.
When Michael Wara, the director of Stanford University’s Climate and Energy Policy Program, spoke with firefighters and insurance industry officials in the process of drafting a 2021 report for the Stanford Woods Institute for the Environment on strategies for mitigating wildfire risk, they told him that, from their perspective, wildfires are often a matter of “home ignition,” meaning that while building near forested areas puts any home at risk, the risk of a home itself igniting varies based on how it’s built and the vegetation clearance around it. “Existing homes in high fire threat areas” built before the implementation of California’s wildfire building codes, Wara wrote, “are a massive problem.” At the time he published the paper, there were somewhere between 700,000 and 1.3 million pre-building code homes still standing in “high or very high threat areas.”
The flipside of focusing on “home ignition” and the building code is that the building code works better over time, as more and more homes comply with it thanks to normal turnover, people extensively renovating, or even tearing down old homes — or rebuilding after fires. Homes that are close to homes that don’t ignite in a fire are more likely to survive.
One study that looked at the 2018 Camp Fire, which destroyed more than 18,000 structures and claimed more than 80 lives in the Northern California town of Paradise, sampled homes built before 1997, between 1997 and 2018, and from 2018 onwards, and found that only 11.5% of pre-1997 homes survived, compared to 38.5% from 1997 and after. The researchers also found that building survivability had a kind of magnifying effect, with distance from the nearest destroyed structure and the number structures destroyed in the immediate area among “the strongest predictors of survival.”
“The more homes that comply, the less chance you get those structural ignitions and the less chance you get those huge disasters like this,” Doug Green, who manages Headwaters Economics’ Community Assistance for Wildfire Program, told me. “It takes people doing the right thing to their own home — dealing with vegetation, making sure roofs are clean, having right roofing. It’s really a community-wide strategy to stop fires that happen like this.”
But just as any home hardening — or just building to code — is more effective the more the homes around you do it as well, it’s just as true in reverse. “If your next door neighbors don’t do that work, the effectiveness of your efforts will be less,” Dale said. “Building codes ultimately work best when we get an entire landscape or neighborhood to adopt them.”
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The proposal resolves an issue that has bedeviled the industry since 2022.
Is Rosemont about to be BAAJA blasted away?
In a 2022 decision formally titled Center for Biological Diversity v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that Rosemont Copper Company its claim under the General Mining Act of 1872 did not give the company license to dump literally millions of tons of waste rock on adjacent Forest Service land. Though Rosemont argued that the use fell under the law’s provisions for “mill sites” on public lands used for mining, the court found that because the parcel in question lacked valid mining claims of its own, the Mining Act did not justify its use under its own permissive regime.
The conservative energy group ClearPath Action described the decision as “a significant departure from long-held mining practices.” Industry groups said that the decision would vastly extend and complicate the process of mining on public lands by putting areas with mineral claims into a separate legal and permitting category from adjacent land that had customarily been considered part of the mining development.
Almost immediately after the court decision, the mining industry and its allies in Congress got to work trying to “fix” the Rosemont decision in order to restore the pre-2022 status quo.
One proposed fix — the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act — has been introduced several times in both houses of Congress, including as far back as 2023 in a Senate bill co-sponsored by Catherine Cortez Masto of Nevada and Jim Risch of Idaho.
Another version of the bill, sponsored by Nevada Republican Mark Amodei, Nevada Democrat Steven Horsford, and Alaska Republican Mark Begich, passed the House of Representatives late last year with a handful of Democratic votes. Both bills would have explicitly established that miners could claim public land for waste rock disposal as long as it was “reasonably necessary” and “reasonably incident” to mineral development.
Now they may all be getting their wish. The comprehensive permitting bill introduced by Republican and Democratic leaders in the Senate known as the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act, includes the full text of the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act
Both parties have been trying to jumpstart the domestic mining and critical minerals industry, especially for materials key to energy sectors, such as copper and lithium. The long lead time it takes to permit and open a mine is one of the major barriers to developing the domestic mining industry (along with nasty price competition from overseas miners and refiners, especially those controlled by Chinese firms).
This is not the first time a bipartisan permitting bill has included what’s known a “Rosemont fix.” There was also one in the 2024 Energy Permitting Reform Act, and in the Senate FREEDOM Act introduced by Cortez Masto and Arkansas Republican Tom Cotton this past summer.
You may have noticed lots of Nevadans associated with these bills. That’s because “Nevada is to mining as Texas is to oil and gas,” Aaron Mintzes, deputy policy director of Earthworks, a frequent and vigorous adversary of the mining industry, told me
While environmental groups generally supported the Rosemont decision, some groups supporting the clean energy industry backed the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act, including Bipartisan Policy Center’s lobbying arm, the clean energy trade group Advanced Energy United, and the Zero Emission Transportation Association, which includes several copper and lithium companies among its members. (Mintzes described ZETA as “the lithium mining lobby” and an “outlier” among clean energy groups in supporting the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act.)
Instead of a technical fix that would comply with the spirit of existing law, Mintzes described the changes to mining regulation in BAAJA as giving mining companies “a nearly unlimited amount of public lands for their waste dumps, for their roads, for their pipelines, for their transmission lines, and for any other purpose that would be reasonably incident to mining.” That goes beyond the mill sites envisioned by the 1872 law, he said.
The National Mining Association, on the other hand, praised the bill Wednesday, with its president Rich Nolan saying in a statement that the existing permitting process is “mired in duplication, endless litigation and uncertainty,” and that “elected officials on both sides of the aisle have long acknowledged that the status quo cannot continue.”
Albert Gore, the executive director of the Zero Emission Transportation Association, told me that there was a “broad recognition” among miners, refiners, and operators that the Rosemont decision required a statutory fix.
“It needed to be clarified in order to remove uncertainty. It's hard enough to invest in mineral production in the United States,” Gore said.
BAAJA’s mining provisions also include the Abandoned Hardrock Mine Fund, which would be funded by maintenance fees collected by the Department of the Interior under the same 19th century mining law. This fund would support a program established by the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law to clean up abandoned mining sites.
In a transcript of a strategy call between environmental organizations on the BAAJA published by Punchbowl, Mintzes described the fund as “the one good thing I spotted in this bill so far.”
Exploratory projects are making a splash in Maine and Alaska.
A legal brawl is brewing over what could be the nation’s first underwater data centers.
Two subsidiaries of a new LLC named DeepGreen have applied for “preliminary” permits from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission that would give four years of permission for studies and analysis towards constructing underwater data centers off remote coastlines in Maine and Alaska. The data centers as proposed would be powered entirely by tidal energy, as in, the power of waves themselves – a technological innovation from hydropower still being piloted around the world. Project descriptions submitted to FERC lay out what these data centers would look like in broad strokes: hundreds of hydrokinetic turbines, dozens of underwater “data center pods,” and miles of subsea cable. The permits would not authorize construction, which would need its own lengthy review process. But these early green lights would tee both areas up for years of potential conflict over hypotheticals that feel real to those on the ground.
There are upsides from purely a carbon emissions perspective. Relying on tidal energy suggests they’d be greenhouse gas-free, powered by the energy of the ocean. It would also eliminate the land use problem that upends so many AI data center projects. There are also clear environmental risks, as they’re also being suggested in ocean areas often coveted for protection, off coastlines where it’s unclear if the neighboring communities will accept them.
DeepGreen’s Alaska project is proposed within a more than 1,000-acre channel of the Cook Inlet, an estuary coveted by fishermen and wildlife conservation advocates, where fights over resource development already occur often. The upstart company’s Maine project is planned for the northernmost tip of the state, in the Bay of Fundy, which shares a transnational border with Canada. Canadian tidal power generation for the general populace marginally exists today in the Bay of Fundy – with major stipulations for marine life protection because it affects the general nature of water currents.
It’s crucial to note neither project has much information available online, sans brief text file project descriptions available through FERC’s online filing database. There is no public-facing website to date for the project, or for DeepGreen itself. When I contacted Louis Wolfson, a vice president at the company who is listed on company filings, he declined to talk about the developments over the phone and suggested I contact him at an email address listed in FERC application documents. That email address uses a website – “DeepGreenCoastal.com” – that does not seem to exist.
Still, we already know enough to say both development areas are likely to require substantial federal review. Not only does their presence in these waters almost necessitate it but both development areas receive considerable whale traffic. DeepGreen has already acknowledged a need to coordinate passive acoustic monitoring and “non-invasive study methodologies” with the National Marine Fisheries Service, the federal marine protection agency run out of NOAA. The Bay of Fundy is a prominent summer home for the endangered North Atlantic Right Whale and the National Marine Fisheries Service has already intervened in the FERC case for the Maine project, signalling in its filing that Endangered Species Act and fish habitat consultations “may be necessary for the project.”
The Center for Biological Diversity has also filed motions to intervene in both FERC cases, which they tell me is a prelude to potential litigation. “Putting one of these in the ocean just seems like a dystopian nightmare but it was especially alarming because of the areas they want to put these in,” Kristen Monsell, CBD Oceans Program Litigation Director, told me in an interview. “[The motions] are a step required in order for us to participate in the permitting process at FERC and then preserve our ability to challenge the decision in court if we think that’s necessary.”
In Maine, the coastline neighbors are the city of Eastport, which is vociferously opposed to this data center being built. The city passed a moratorium on data center development in response to the project and filed a request to intervene in its FERC case this week. “The City's concerns include potential effects on fisheries, marine habitat, water quality, currents, sediment, underwater noise, electromagnetic fields, equipment heat, existing uses of the waterway, and access to marine resources,” the city stated. “Questions also remain about equipment failure, storm damage, emergency response, equipment recovery, site restoration, and eventual decommissioning. These concerns are specific to the proposed placement and extended operation of computing and energy infrastructure on and beneath the seabed.”
In Alaska, DeepGreen doesn’t face a situation like Eastport with a bustling tourist destination-turned-nemesis, but there’s still quite a bit of local confusion and consternation.
The Kenai Peninsula Borough, which is the equivalent of a county-level government, is currently neutral on the development. But the Alaska Commercial Fisheries Conservation Alliance, a newly-formed nonprofit that includes fishing permit holders in the Cook Inlet, submitted a filing to FERC claiming the project site doesn’t properly take into account existing fishing permit holders and that “a preliminary permit proceeding that advances a project of this scale without any commercial fishing impact assessment” would fail the agency’s public interest obligations.
I asked DeepGreen if it had any comment on the litigation risk around their projects. This is what Louis Wolfson provided: “Preliminary permits under the Federal Power Act do not authorize construction or physical disturbance. Their sole purpose is to establish priority while environmental, bathymetric, and technical feasibility studies are conducted. Stakeholder participation is an expected and healthy part of the FERC regulatory process. DeepGreen welcomes the engagement of conservation organizations, local communities, and regulatory resource agencies as we evaluate whether these sites can deliver low impact, zero carbon infrastructure in full compliance with federal environmental laws."
And more of the week’s biggest fights around project development
1. Ottawa County, Michigan – A congressional district House Democrats are targeting for control of the Lower Chamber is now a battleground over solar development on farmland, and I’m waiting to see if President Trump gets involved.
2. Texas – The Lone Star State sure is action-packed right now, huh? Let’s break down a few of the most important fights.
3. Lincoln County, Oklahoma – A massive wind project in rural Oklahoma is now on hold amidst continued local opposition, according to a Republican member of the state legislature.
4. Clinton County, Indiana – Well hey, at least some places are still approving some things. Like in rural Indiana, where a community actually voted for considering a data center.