It could reshape the scale of legal challenges that projects could face in the future, giving the Trump administration — and any successive administration — greater leeway to approve energy projects.
Under NEPA, federal agencies must study the environmental impacts of their decisions before they make them. The strictest studies can run into the hundreds of pages, and they can take years to complete.
But in what was essentially an 8-0 decision, the Court ruled that federal agencies almost never need to analyze the second-order environmental effects of their decisions. In other words, an agency need only study the environmental impact of a project itself — be it a pipeline, a solar farm, or, in the case at issue, a railroad — and not its metaphorically downstream consequences. That remains the case even if a given project might indirectly make it much easier to do something with a big environmental footprint, such as drilling for oil or natural gas.
That is the clearest effect of the ruling. But Justice Brett Kavanaugh, writing for the court’s conservative majority, went much further than that summary alone suggests. In a broad and forceful ruling, he told lower courts that they should stop nitpicking the environmental studies that federal agencies must publish under NEPA to justify their own decision-making. Courts should, instead, defer to federal agencies as much as is reasonable when reviewing a NEPA study. “The goal of the law,” he writes, “is to inform agency decision-making, not to paralyze it.” (Justice Neil Gorsuch recused himself from the case because of his connection to an oil magnate who could have benefited from the ruling.)
That suggests a significant change is coming to how the court system interprets NEPA, a law that is little known to the general public but that plays a defining role in how federal agencies make decisions or approve infrastructure projects. NEPA creates a procedural requirement that federal agencies study the environmental impact of any “major decision,” but that category is so broad that it affects virtually everything the federal government does — spend money, write a new regulation, or approve a new project on federal land. The law and the yearslong lawsuits that it spawns have been blamed for delays in building solar farms and transmission lines, but also oil refineries and gas pipelines.
Kavanaugh’s ruling is “pretty striking for just how strident it is, and how assertively it tries to shut the door on further NEPA litigation,” Nicholas Bagley, a University of Michigan law professor who studies the permitting system, told me. Kavanaugh’s message to lower courts is, in essence, “We keep telling you to knock it off. You keep not listening. So knock it the fuck off,” Bagley said.
At the very least, the ruling suggests that a new phase in the effort to reform the country’s permitting laws has arrived. Now that movement has, in essence, been blessed by the Supreme Court.
The case in question — Seven County Infrastructure Coalition v. Eagle County, Colorado — concerns an 88-mile railroad proposed to connect the Uinta Basin in eastern Utah to the national freight rail network. In 2021, the Surface Transportation Board, a federal agency that regulates railroads, approved the project after completing a roughly 3,600-page study of the railroad’s potential environmental impact.
Almost immediately, environmental groups argued that the board’s study did not go far enough. The ground beneath the Uinta Basin is rich in a waxy and particularly carbon-intensive crude oil; right now, very little of that oil is extracted because the only way to get it out is by truck, along windy mountain roads. The railroad, if built, would allow for much larger volumes of crude to be transported out of the basin and sent to Gulf Coast refineries. Building the railroad, in other words, would indirectly increase local oil extraction, and thereby raise global greenhouse gas emissions.
The board argued that its NEPA study did not need to consider these downstream effects because the board itself does not regulate oil extraction — that is, it regulates the building of railroads, not what gets moved on them.
The eight justices agreed that the board was right: It didn’t have to consider the effects of second-order oil drilling when it approved the railroad. (The railroad remains on hold for other reasons, Sambhav Sankar, a senior vice president at Earthjustice, told me.) But by going further in his ruling, Kavanaugh entered into a running debate about the role of NEPA and other permitting laws in the American economy.
NEPA was never meant to play the commanding role that it does today, Kavanaugh writes. When it was first signed into law in 1970, NEPA was meant to act as a “purely procedural” check on federal decision-making. Agencies were supposed to conduct environmental studies, make their decisions, then move on. But in a famous 1971 ruling concerning a proposed nuclear power plant in Maryland, Judge Skelly Wright of the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals transformed the law. He found that agencies had to carry out NEPA’s procedural requirements “to the fullest extent possible,” and crucially that courts could reject agencies’ analysis for lack of completeness.
Over the years, as hundreds of cases following Wright’s have added up, NEPA has turned into a “fearsome project killer,” Bagley said. Agencies spend decades of person-power and hundreds of thousands of dollars to prepare fastidious environmental reviews of their decisions. Any new infrastructure project or new policy change — even New York City’s congestion charge — requires some form of NEPA study.
Many conservatives have long opposed the modern NEPA process. But in recent years, some liberals have joined them, arguing that the law primarily slows down clean energy infrastructure and encourages NIMBYism. In practice, they say, NEPA acts as more of hindrance to the clean economy than the old fossil fuel economy: Because of a 2005 law, most oil and gas drilling has been exempt from the NEPA process, while wind farms, solar plants, and other forms of zero-carbon energy infrastructure still have to face it. Environmental groups rebut that the law is a useful tool to slow down fossil fuel pipelines, which do not generally get a NEPA exemption.
Data supports the idea that NEPA holds back clean energy projects, but that is partly because it holds back so many kinds of projects. The R Street Institute, a center-right think tank, has found that 42% of projects stalled by NEPA involved green infrastructure or conservation. Another analysis from the Center for Growth and Opportunity at Utah State University found that it takes more than two years on average for federal agencies to complete environmental reviews of solar and wind projects. Reviews for new hydroelectric or nuclear power plants take even longer.
Kavanaugh, in essence, rejects all of this. NEPA was never supposed to block or hinder large-scale energy or infrastructure projects, he writes; it was meant to “inform agency decision-making, not to paralyze it.”
“A 1970 legislative acorn has grown over the years into a judicial oak that has hindered infrastructure development ‘under the guise’ of just a little more process,” he says. When federal agencies write environmental studies under NEPA, courts should broadly defer to the decisions that they make. And even if an agency gets something wrong in its study or omits something important, that does not mean the entire study — and the decision that it justifies — should be thrown out. (There’s some irony to Kavanaugh’s call for deference to agencies here, given that the Supreme Court rejected the idea that agency regulations deserve deference last year.)
“What’s notable for me is that they didn’t just rule on the case,” Sankar, the Earthjustice lawyer told me. (Earthjustice participated in the case.) “They decided to take a broad swipe at NEPA itself, really unnecessarily.”
Alexander Mechanick, a senior policy analyst at the Niskanen Center and former White House regulatory official, agreed with Sankar about the scope of the ruling. The court’s decision “does communicate over and over again, with a heavy hand, a real desire to get lower courts out of the business of fly specking the environmental impact assessments,” he told me.
It’s this forthrightness that seems to announce a new era of NEPA jurisprudence — one where the courts will accept a level of environmental review that they may have once rejected. In a way, Kavanaugh’s ruling is a fitting sequel to Wright’s 1971 decision in that both set the tone and capture the overarching environmental concerns of their respective eras, Bagley said.
Half a century ago, Judge Wright wanted to make sure that the American public could slow the wave of infrastructure that threatened to overwhelm the country’s landscape. NEPA represented “the commitment of the government to control, at long last, the destructive engine of material ‘progress,’” he wrote, asserting that judges must make sure the law’s goals are not “lost or misdirected in the vast hallways of the federal bureaucracy.”
Now, Kavanaugh seems to fear that progress itself has been held up. He writes that the modern NEPA process, with its cycles of “speculation and consultation and estimation and litigation,” has slowed down infrastructure projects and driven up their cost. He can sound more like an op-ed writer than a legal scholar as he lays out the law’s consequences in the ruling:
Fewer projects make it to the finish line. Indeed, fewer projects make it to the starting line. Those that survive often end up costing much more than is anticipated or necessary, both for the agency preparing the EIS and for the builder of the project. And that in turn means fewer and more expensive railroads, airports, wind turbines, transmission lines, dams, housing developments, highways, bridges, subways, stadiums, arenas, data centers, and the like. And that also means fewer jobs, as new projects become difficult to finance and build in a timely fashion.
In this declaration, Kavanaugh seems to put himself on the side of a growing and tenuously bipartisan movement to reform NEPA. A 2023 debt ceiling bill, signed by President Biden, included modest reforms to the NEPA process, imposing page limits and deadlines on the strictest forms of environmental studies. A more sweeping bipartisan effort to change the law failed last year. Now, House Republicans are taking their own crack at revising NEPA, creating an optional and more expensive permitting “fast track” for developers in the reconciliation bill.
Sankar, whose organization has championed NEPA, argues that the ruling’s practical upshot will be to allow the Trump administration greater leeway to build fossil fuel infrastructure. Kavanaugh’s ruling exhibits “a shocking disregard for the realpolitik of what's going on with this administration in particular,” he said.
“As we’ve been saying all along, NEPA gets demonized as the problem,” Sankar said. With the law’s role reduced, “I think people will see that there are a lot of other things that are the problem here, and taking federal agency expertise out of the equation is not going to hurry things up.” He added that state and local governments often rely on federal NEPA reports for their own analyses, and now those reviews may be less trustworthy.
Bagley, who has generally supported permitting reform efforts, agreed that NEPA is just one of several laws holding back clean energy projects nationwide. But it is an important one, he said, and reducing its scope will likely allow more projects to happen. He added that by changing it, advocates will learn of additional bottlenecks that are holding back construction — including laws that nobody has noticed yet because they were previously less important than NEPA. Advocates can also now focus their attention on state and local barriers to building.
“If you want to look at the permitting burdens across the United States, probably 80% to 90% of them are state and local. This [ruling] isn’t going to inaugurate a new era of American dynamism,” Bagley said. “It’s a small step in the right direction.”
Annual CO2 concentrations and forecasts in PPM. The Keeling Curve and Met Office
Long-term CO2 concentrations dating back 2,000 years.The Keeling Curve and Met Office
NOAA
