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Vermont is on the verge of becoming the first state to try it.
Dozens of cities and states have tried to sue the oil industry for damages related to climate change over the past several years, and so far, none of these cases has been successful. In fact, not one has even made it to trial.
In the meantime, the price tag for climate-related impacts has climbed ever higher, and states are growing more desperate for help with the bill. Out of that desperation, a new legal strategy was born, one that may have a better chance of getting fossil fuel companies to pay up. And Vermonters may be the first to benefit.
It’s called a climate superfund bill, and versions of it are floating through legislative chambers in New York, Massachusetts, and Maryland, in addition to Vermont. Though each bill is slightly different, the general premise is the same: Similar to the way the federal Superfund law allows the Environmental Protection Agency to seek funds retroactively from polluters to clean up contaminated sites, states will seek to bill fossil fuel companies retroactively for the costs of addressing, avoiding, and adapting to the damages that the emissions from their products have caused.
Though New York was the first state to introduce a climate superfund bill two years ago, Vermont may be the first to get it through a legislature. On Friday, the Vermont Senate voted 21 to five to approve amendments to the bill, and will vote next week on whether to send it to the House. An equivalent bill in the House is cosponsored by nearly two-thirds of state representatives and the policy also won the support of Vermont’s Attorney General.
If it gets past the governor’s desk, the bill will kick off a multiyear process that, in the most optimistic case, could bring money into the state by 2028. The first step is for the state Treasurer to assess the cost to Vermont, specifically, of emissions from the extraction and combustion of fossil fuels from 1995 to 2024, globally. Regulators will then request compensation from responsible parties in proportion to the emissions each company contributed. The state will identify responsible parties by focusing only on the biggest emitters, companies whose products generated at least a billion tons of emissions during that time. The money will go toward implementing a state “resilience and implementation strategy” to be mapped out in the next two years.
The idea of states retroactively billing fossil fuel companies for damages outside the context of a lawsuit might sound a little far-fetched. Or, at least, I thought it was when I first heard about it. How can that be legal?
Anthony Iarrapino, the lead lobbyist supporting the bill for the Conservation Law Foundation, a New England-based environmental law nonprofit, explained it this way. There is established case law that deals with retroactive liability in the context of hazardous waste — again, the Superfund law. “Even if your activities were legal at the time you undertook them, if they result in making a mess, then you can be on the hook for cleaning that mess,” he told me. “The idea here is looking at climate disruption as a polluted site.”
How is that fair? Well, the legal precedents supporting the Superfund law and similar policies turn on a key question. Did the companies understand that their activities were potentially harmful at the time they engaged in them? “If, objectively, you knew or should have known that your conduct, whether it was legal or not, was likely to result in damages that would impose costs on society,” Iarrapino said, “then it's fair, from a lookback perspective, to hold you accountable when those damages begin to manifest in the environment or in impacts to human health.” That’s because, according to precedent, you essentially assumed the risk that at some point in the future, you might be on the hook.
By now there’s a mountain of evidence that fossil fuel companies like Exxon did, in fact, know how damaging their products would be several decades before the period covered by the Vermont bill, based on internal research not shared with the public at the time. But Ben Edgerly Walsh, an advocate at the Vermont Public Interest Research Group, told me that even absent that evidence, they should have recognized the risk based on the scientific consensus that emerged in the 1970s and 1980s. To wit: Vermont chose 1995 as the start year for its bill because that’s when the first United Nations climate change conference was held.
“We shouldn't have to bear the cost of this ourselves,” said Walsh. “These oil companies that are still making hundreds of billions of dollars in profit annually should have to pay their fair share for the cost of the climate crisis they caused.”
Underpinning the bill — as well as many of the related lawsuits — is the advancement of “attribution science,” or the ability to quantify the economic losses that a region has borne due to anthropogenic climate change, as well as future losses that are already baked in, and then attribute them back to particular emitters. In testimony for the Vermont superfund bill, Justin Mankin, an associate professor at Dartmouth, stressed that these are peer reviewed, consensus, scientific methods — and that in general, they are conservative. “It is my opinion that we are systematically underestimating the economic cost of climate change to date,” he told the Vermont Judiciary Committee in February. “And that is because all of these climate damage cost assessment methods are inherently conservative, or limited by data.”
The bill’s sponsors also looked to research from Richard Heede, creator of the famous “Carbon Majors” database, which calculated the emissions of major fossil fuel companies based on the amount of oil, gas, and coal they each extracted and found that some 70% of fossil fuel emissions since 1988 can be attributed to 100 companies. In testimony to the Vermont Senate, Heede estimated that about 68 companies would be captured by the bill’s billion-ton threshold.
Of course, the fossil fuel industry patently disputes the science that Heede and Mankin expounded. The American Petroleum Institute submitted testimony warning of the “difficulties of establishing a conclusive link between anthropogenic climate change and alleged injuries to Vermont” and arguing that the emissions from individual companies over the last several decades cannot “be determined with great accuracy.” The group also called it “unfair” to charge the companies that sold oil and gas, considering they “did not combust fossil fuels but simply extracted or refined them in order to meet the needs and demands of the people.”
That might be where the biggest weak spot in the climate superfund bills — as well as the climate damages lawsuits — lies. There’s an underlying philosophical question, Martin Lockman, a climate law fellow at Columbia University, told me. Who in the supply chain is responsible for the pollution from fossil fuels?
The answer turns on a moral argument that fossil fuel companies have made enormous profits from fossil fuels for decades, all while knowing what the harms would be. “From a moral perspective, I think that these are very justified,” said Lockman, “but that will certainly get opened in litigation.”
If any of the climate superfund bills pass, they will absolutely be challenged in court. One reason they may see more success than the more direct lawsuits, however, is that they flip the burden of proof. If Vermont sued oil companies for damages, the burden would be on Vermont to prove its case, and as the defendants, the oil companies would get a “bag of tricks” to use to stall the case and make it very expensive to pursue, said Iarrapino. For example, many of these lawsuits have been delayed by years-long arguments over whether they should be tried in state or federal court, or whether the oil companies have to release certain documents.
“Even though it’s the same harms and the same contexts,” Iarrapino told me, “you’ve got a balance of power where they can win the case by losing slowly.” But if oil companies sue Vermont, for example, by calling its law unconstitutional, the burden of proof will be on them, and the state will have no incentive to delay the case.
I should note here that the federal Superfund law is not exactly the ideal model for this policy. Much of the time, the EPA can’t track down a company to ascribe blame for the contamination, and taxpayers end up footing the bill of the cleanup. Even when it does find a responsible party, said party often ends up litigating the amount owed for years. The Passaic River in New Jersey was declared a Superfund site 40 years ago, and the EPA is still fighting with Occidental over how much it should pay for the cleanup.
Iarrapino thinks there’s one key difference in the proposed climate superfund program. At contaminated sites, there can be a lot of potential polluters and so it’s difficult to assign blame. The Vermont bill attaches liability directly to the act of extracting and refining fossil fuels for combustion. “You either did that or you didn't do that,” he said. When it comes to companies like Exxon and BP, “that is their whole reason for existing.” That doesn’t mean companies won’t use all the firepower they have to dispute the amount they owe, however.
It may seem unfair for a single state, especially one as small as Vermont, to win compensation first when the damages are global and unequally distributed. But Lockman of Columbia said if these bills are successful, fossil fuel companies may stop fighting liability entirely and instead push the federal government to take action so they can be held to a more consistent standard across the country.
When I first reached Iarrapino, he told me that just downstairs from his office, someone was sawing and hammering the walls because the first floor had been entirely underwater when Montpelier flooded last summer. Three businesses that were in the building are gone. A recent estimate puts the cost of state-wide damages from the storm at $600 million.
“At this point,” he said, “what else does a state like Vermont have to lose?”
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The Environmental Protection Agency just unveiled its argument against regulating greenhouse emissions from power plants.
In federal policymaking, the weight of the law can rest on a single word. When it comes to reducing planet-warming emissions from the power sector, that word is “significantly.” The Clean Air Act requires the Environmental Protection Agency to regulate any stationary source of emissions that “causes, or contributes significantly to, air pollution which may reasonably be anticipated to endanger public health or welfare.”
The EPA has considered power plants a significant source of dangerous greenhouse gases since 2015. But today, Trump’s EPA said, actually, never mind.
A proposed rule published in the Federal Register on Wednesday argues that U.S. fossil fuel-fired power plants make up “a small and decreasing part of global emissions” and therefore are not significant, and do not require regulation under the law. The rule would repeal all greenhouse gas emission standards for new and existing power plants — both the standards the Biden administration finalized last year, which have been tied up in court, as well as the standards that preceded them, which were enacted by Obama in 2015.
In a separate proposal, the EPA also took steps to repeal limits on mercury and hazardous air pollutants from coal plants that were enacted last year, reverting the standard back to one set in 2012.
The argument that U.S. power plants make up a small sliver of global emissions and thus aren’t worth addressing is like having “a five-alarm fire that could be put out if you send out all the trucks, and you don’t send any of the trucks because no one truck could put the fire out by itself,” David Doniger, a senior attorney and strategist at the Natural Resources Defense Council, told me. “We just think that is a wacky reversal and a wacky interpretation of the Clean Air Act.”
When you add up every plug, power button, and light switch across the country, electricity usage produces 25% of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions each year. Over the past 30 years, American power plants have contributed about 5% of the total climate pollution spewed into the atmosphere worldwide.
In the global context, that may sound small. But in a recent report titled “The Scale of Significance," New York University’s Institute for Policy Integrity estimated that if U.S. power plants were a country, it would be the sixth biggest emitter in the world, behind China, the European Union, India, Russia, and the remainder of U.S. emissions. The report also notes that U.S. actions on emissions make other countries more likely to follow, due to technological spillovers that reduce the cost of decarbonization globally.
In addition to the significance finding, the EPA gave two other reasons for repealing the power plant rules. It argued that “cost-effective control measures are not reasonably available,” meaning there’s no economic way to reduce emissions at the source. It also said the new administration’s priority “is to promote the public health or welfare through energy dominance and independence secured by using fossil fuels to generate power.”
The first argument is an attempt to say that Biden’s standards flouted the law. In 2022, the Supreme Court ruled that the EPA could not simply tell states to reduce emissions from the power sector, which is what the Obama administration had initially tried to do. Instead, the agency would have to develop standards that could be applied on a plant-by-plant basis — so long as those rules were “cost-reasonable” and “adequately demonstrated.”
To comply with that ruling, Biden’s EPA based its standards on the potential to install carbon capture technology that can reduce flue gas emissions by 90%. The regulations would have required existing coal plants to install carbon capture by 2039, or else shut down. (To the chagrin of many energy system observers, the administration chose not to apply limits to existing gas-fired power plants.) But while fossil fuel companies and utilities had, in the past, asserted that carbon capture was viable, they deemed the standards impossible to meet.
Trump’s EPA is now agreeing. “In 2024,” Zeldin said on Wednesday, “rules were enacted seeking to suffocate our economy in order to protect the environment, to make all sorts of industries including coal and more disappear, regulate them out of existence.”
When Trump moved to overturn Obama’s power plant regulations during his first term, his EPA did not contest the significance of the sector’s emissions, and simply enacted a weaker standard. A week before he left office, the agency also finalized a rule that set the threshold for “significance” at 3% of U.S. emissions — which exempted major polluters like refineries, but still applied to power plants.
This time, Trump has a new apparent game plan: Strip the Clean Air Act of its jurisdiction over greenhouse gases altogether. Today’s action was the first step; EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin has said the agency will similarly “reconsider” emissions rules for cars and oil and gas drilling. But the cornerstone of the plan is to reverse what’s known as the “endangerment finding” — the 2009 conclusion that greenhouse gases present a threat to public health and welfare, and therefore are one of the pollutants EPA must address under the Clean Air Act.
“The Trump administration is trying to say, don’t worry about the Clean Air Act. It will never apply, so you can go back to your old ways,” said Doniger. But if the argument that power plant emissions are insignificant is a stretch, appraising greenhouse gas emissions as benign is inconceivable, he said. “The endangerment finding was based, in 2009, on a Denali-sized mountain of evidence. Since then, it’s grown to Everest-size, so there’s no way that they would be able to put together a rational record saying the science is wrong.”
These highly technical questions of whether emissions are “significant” or whether carbon capture is “adequately demonstrated” could soon be determined by a group of people who lack both the expertise to answer them and the inclination to wade through thousands of pages of atmospheric science and chemical engineering documents: judges.
Last year, the Supreme Court overturned a long-held precedent known as Chevron deference. That ruling means that the courts are no longer required to defer to an agency’s interpretation of statute — judges must make their own determinations of whether agencies are following the intent of the law.
When environmental groups begin challenging the EPA’s repeals in court, judges are “going to be bombarded with the need to make these highly technical, nuanced decisions,” Michael Wara, a lawyer and scholar focused on climate and energy policy at Stanford University, told me. He said the reason Chevron deference was established in the first place is that judges didn’t want to be making engineering decisions about power plants. “They felt extremely uncomfortable having to make these calls.”
The conservative Supreme Court overturned the precedent because of a sense that political decisions were being dressed up in scientific reasoning. But Wara doesn’t think the courts are going to like being put back into the role of weighing technical minutia and making engineering decisions.
“It’s a past that the courts didn’t like and they tried to engineer a way out of via the Chevron doctrine,” he said. “I would expect that we’re going to see a drift back toward a doctrine that looks a little bit more Chevron-like, maybe less deference to agencies. But it’s hard to predict in the current environment what’s going to happen.”
Look more closely at today’s inflation figures and you’ll see it.
Inflation is slowing, but electricity bills are rising. While the below-expectations inflation figure reported by the Bureau of Labor Statistics Wednesday morning — the consumer price index rose by just 0.1% in May, and 2.4% on the year — has been eagerly claimed by the Trump administration as a victory over inflation, a looming increase in electricity costs could complicate that story.
Consumer electricity prices rose 0.9% in May, and are up 4.5% in the past year. And it’s quite likely price increases will accelerate through the summer, thanks to America’s largest electricity market, PJM Interconnection. Significant hikes are expected or are already happening in many PJM states, including Maryland,New Jersey,Delaware, Pennsylvania, and Ohio with some utilities having said they would raise rates as soon as this month.
This has led to scrambling by state governments, with New Jersey announcing hundreds of millions of dollars of relief to alleviate rate increases as high as 20%. Maryland convinced one utility to spread out the increase over a few months.
While the dysfunctions of PJM are distinct and well known — new capacity additions have not matched fossil fuel retirements, leading to skyrocketing payments for those generators that can promise to be on in time of need — the overall supply and demand dynamics of the electricity industry could lead to a broader price squeeze.
“Trump and JD Vance can get off tweets about how there’s no inflation, but I don’t think they’ll feel that way in a week or two,” Skanda Amarnath, executive director of Employ America, told me.
And while the consumer price index is made up of, well, almost everything people buy, electricity price increases can have a broad effect on prices in general. “Everyone relies on energy,” Amarnath said. “Businesses that have higher costs can’t just eat it.” That means higher electricity prices may be translated into higher costs throughout the economy, a phenomenon known as “cost-push inflation.”
Aside from the particular dynamics of any one electricity market, there’s likely to be pressure on electricity prices across the country from the increased demand for energy from computing and factories. “There’s a big supply adjustment that’s going to have to happen, the data center demand dynamic is coming to roost,” Amarnath said.
Jefferies Chief U.S. Economist Thomas Simons said as much in a note to clients Wednesday. “Increased stress on the electrical grid from AI data centers, electric vehicle charging, and obligations to fund infrastructure and greenification projects have forced utilities to increase prices,” he wrote.
Of course, there’s also great uncertainty about the future path of electricity policy — namely, what happens to the Inflation Reduction Act — and what that means for prices.
The research group Energy Innovation has modeled the House reconciliation bill’s impact on the economy and the energy industry. The report finds that the bill “would dramatically slow deployment of new electricity generating capacity at a time of rapidly growing electricity demand.” That would result in higher electricity and energy prices across the board, with increases in household energy spending of around $150 per year in 2030, and more than $260 per year in 2035, due in part to a 6% increase in electricity prices by 2035.
In the near term, there’s likely not much policymakers can do about electricity prices, and therefore utility bills going up. Renewables are almost certainly the fastest way to get new electrons on the grid, but the completion of even existing projects could be thrown into doubt by the House bill’s strict “foreign entity of concern” rules, which try to extricate the renewables industry from its relationship with China.
“We’re running into a set of cost-push dynamics. It’s a hairy problem that no one is really wrapping their heads around,” Amarnath said. “It’s not really mainstream yet. It’s going to be.”
In some relief to American consumers, if not the planet, while it may be more expensive for them to cool their homes, it will be less expensive to get out of them: Gasoline prices fell 2.5% in May, according to the BLS, and are down 12% on the year.
Six months in, federal agencies are still refusing to grant crucial permits to wind developers.
Federal agencies are still refusing to process permit applications for onshore wind energy facilities nearly six months into the Trump administration, putting billions in energy infrastructure investments at risk.
On Trump’s first day in office, he issued two executive orders threatening the wind energy industry – one halting solar and wind approvals for 60 days and another commanding agencies to “not issue new or renewed approvals, rights of way, permits, leases or loans” for all wind projects until the completion of a new governmental review of the entire industry. As we were first to report, the solar pause was lifted in March and multiple solar projects have since been approved by the Bureau of Land Management. In addition, I learned in March that at least some transmission for wind farms sited on private lands may have a shot at getting federal permits, so it was unclear if some arms of the government might let wind projects proceed.
However, I have learned that the wind industry’s worst fears are indeed coming to pass. The Fish and Wildlife Service, which is responsible for approving any activity impacting endangered birds, and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, tasked with greenlighting construction in federal wetlands, have simply stopped processing wind project permit applications after Trump’s orders – and the freeze appears immovable, unless something changes.
According to filings submitted to federal court Monday under penalty of perjury by Alliance for Clean Energy New York, at least three wind projects in the Empire State – Terra-Gen’s Prattsburgh Wind, Invenergy’s Canisteo Wind, and Apex’s Heritage Wind – have been unable to get the Army Corps or Fish and Wildlife Service to continue processing their permitting applications. In the filings, ACE NY states that land-based wind projects “cannot simply be put on a shelf for a few years until such time as the federal government may choose to resume permit review and issuance,” because “land leases expire, local permits and agreements expire, and as a result, the project must be terminated.”
While ACE NY’s filings discuss only these projects in New York, they describe the impacts as indicative of the national industry’s experience, and ACE NY’s executive director Marguerite Wells told me it is her understanding “that this is happening nationwide.”
“I can confirm that developers have conveyed to me that [the] Army Corps has stopped processing their applications specifically citing the wind ban,” Wells wrote in an email. “As I have understood it, the initial freeze covered both wind and solar projects, but the freeze was lifted for solar projects and not for wind projects.”
Lots of attention has been paid to Trump’s attacks on offshore wind, because those projects are sited entirely in federal waters. But while wind projects sited on private lands can hypothetically escape a federal review and keep sailing on through to operation, wind turbines are just so large in size that it’s hard to imagine that bird protection laws can’t apply to most of them. And that doesn’t account for wetlands, which seem to be now bedeviling multiple wind developers.
This means there’s an enormous economic risk in a six-month permitting pause, beyond impacts to future energy generation. The ACE NY filings state the impacts to New York alone represent more than $2 billion in capital investments, just in the land-based wind project pipeline, and there’s significant reason to believe other states are also experiencing similar risks. In a legal filing submitted by Democratic states challenging the executive order targeting wind, attorneys general listed at least three wind projects in Arizona – RWE’s Forged Ethic, AES’s West Camp, and Repsol’s Lava Run – as examples that may require approval from the federal government under the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act. As I’ve previously written, this is the same law that bird conservation advocates in Wyoming want Trump to use to reject wind proposals in their state, too.
The Fish and Wildlife Service and Army Corps of Engineers declined to comment after this story’s publication due to litigation on the matter. I also reached out to the developers involved in these projects to inquire about their commitments to these projects in light of the permitting pause. We’ll let you know if we hear back from them.