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Here are three more questions to ask after a weird few weeks of policymaking.

Let’s start with a quick recap: In late-January, the Biden administration turned the energy world on its ear by announcing that it would pause approvals of new export facilities for liquified natural gas — a decision greeted with joy by activists and indignation by lawmakers. A few weeks later, The New York Times reported that the administration was planning to ease up on planned regulations on car tailpipe emissions that would have pushed U.S. vehicle sales to become mostly battery-electric by 2030.
Then, on Thursday, the Environmental Protection Agency announced that it planned to delay its proposed regulations to rein in emissions from the country’s existing fleet of natural gas power plants. The administration still plans to finalize the tailpipe regulations, along with new, more stringent rules for existing coal plants and new natural gas plants on its original timeline, likely in the next few weeks. Oh, and it also launched a war on Chinese EVs.
This has left many with an understandable sense of whiplash. As the Times’ Lisa Friedman put it, “The weakening of the Biden administration’s two most ambitious climate rules would call into question the ability of the United States to meet the president’s goal of cutting United States emissions roughly in half by the end of this decade.” But … does it? There’s a lot we still don’t know about the administration’s plans, including what the new tailpipe rule will say and how the EPA will approach revising those gas plant regulations.
Here are a few more questions to consider.
Climate advocates were dissatisfied with the EPA’s original proposal for existing natural gas plants. The Natural Resources Defense Council estimated, based on EPA’s analysis, that the rules for existing plants accounted for only about 20% of the proposal’s overall emission reductions. Along with groups like Clean Air Task Force and Evergreen Action, the NRDC was concerned that the majority of gas plants weren’t covered by the rule, and that the compliance timeline was too slow. Others, including the Center for Biological Diversity and Earthjustice, were concerned about the rule’s reliance on carbon capture and the lack of restrictions on other emissions of concern from gas plants, like methane and nitrous oxide.
Industry, for its part, also didn’t like it. The Edison Electric Group, the main trade group for electric utilities, argued that the technological fixes the EPA was proposing to reduce emissions from existing plants — either carbon capture or a blend of clean hydrogen and natural gas — were not mature enough and therefore that the rule was not achievable.
In justifying the decision to delay, EPA administrator Michael Regan sent mixed signals. In an interview with Bloomberg, Regan said it was a way to achieve both “more flexibilities” and “more pollution reduction.” The first reads as an appeal to industry, the second to environmentalists.
Groups from both sectors claimed the news as a victory. The American Petroleum Institute’s president of policy, economics and regulatory affairs, Dustin Meyer, welcomed the delay, stressing the gas fleet’s importance to grid reliability as electricity demand grows. Emily Sanford Fisher, executive vice president for clean energy at the Edison Electric Institute, told the Washington Post, “we appreciate that EPA has acknowledged our concerns.” Meanwhile, Earthjustice seemed to take to heart the EPA’s pledge to make the rule tougher on toxic, non-carbon pollutants like formaldehyde. The group’s president, Abigail Dillen, called it a “more ambitious strategy.”
It’s hard to imagine how the EPA could make the rule tougher on pollution while also making it more flexible. In reality, what the delay could achieve is no rule at all.
Not all environmental groups are optimistic. The Sunrise Movement accused Biden of “caving to pressure from the gas lobby” and said the delay leaves the fate of power plant regulations up to the results of the upcoming election. Frank Sturges, an attorney at Clean Air Task Force, said in a press release that he was “extremely disappointed” by the news. The group estimates that the share of power plant emissions from gas plants will nearly double by 2040 without the regulations. “The shot clock is winding down for reducing power plant emissions, and rather than taking the shot to eliminate emissions from existing gas plants, EPA has chosen to sit on the bench,” Sturges said. — Emily Pontecorvo
It’s easy to forget about the non-presidential races during a presidential election year. But it is House and Senate elections in states like Ohio, Montana, Arizona, West Virginia, and Maine that might actually be the best predictors for how the country moves forward — or doesn’t — in the green energy transition.
The EPA’s decision to delay some of its power plant regulations appears to be at least partially a concession to these imperiled Democrats, even as the Biden administration has tried to play up its climate bona fides to general election voters. In December, five senators — Ohio’s Sherrod Brown, West Virginia’s Joe Manchin, Arizona’s Mark Kelly and Kyrsten Sinema (an Independent who caucuses with the Dems), and Montana’s Jon Tester — signed a letter opposing the EPA’s power plant emission rule, calling it a threat to jobs as well as the price and reliability of electricity, concerns that are common among centrist voters.
The letter isn’t just grumbling among the ranks; these are critical stakes. Intelligencer has described the 2024 Senate race as “the best for the GOP in living memory,” in part thanks to Manchin's impending retirement. If Democrats only lost the West Virginia seat and Trump won the election, the GOP would win the Senate majority with a vice-president-tie-breaking 50-50 split.
And that’s the best case scenario for climate policy in the event of a Biden loss. Democrats are defending three total seats in states that Trump carried in 2020 (Ohio, West Virginia, and Montana, which he won by 16 points) plus five others in states that Biden won, but barely (like Arizona, where Sinema has yet to commit to running for reelection). Meanwhile, Brown, Tester, and possibly Sinema are all running in “toss-up” elections that could break either way. Shoring up support for them in states where the economy will likely play better than the environment among voters is good politics, even if it’s questionable climate policy.
The same dilemma exists in the House, even if seizing control of the lower chamber looks more promising for the left. Sure enough, several Democratic Representatives also sent a letter opposing the EPA rules after their Senate colleagues did, with North Carolina’s Donald Davis and Maine’s Jared Golden among the electorally threatened signatories. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, who represents the rural southwest corner of Washington state, also faces an uphill race and has expressed disapproval of the regulations; Ohio’s Marcy Kaptur, in a Republican-leaning district, has likewise spoken publicly against them.
It was because of the 2020 Democratic trifecta that Biden was able to pass the Inflation Reduction Act and the bipartisan infrastructure bill, and it’s partially because of the 2022 flip of the House and the current 50-50 Senate that progress has ground to a halt. What happens to the climate agenda in 2026 and beyond will depend on a Biden win — but not just. — Jeva Lange
One other wildcard is what weakening the rules could mean for union support. Biden has staked his presidency on transitioning to a zero-carbon energy system — and also on meeting union demands and creating a more fair economy. While both ideas are broadly appealing to Biden’s coalition (and especially to young voters), they can sometimes come into conflict on the specifics.
Shawn Fain, the popular leader of the United Auto Workers, has repeatedly expressed concern about Biden’s support for a rapid EV transition, fearing that it will set back the legacy American automakers. That is one reason Fain initially withheld the union’s endorsement of Biden’s reelection bid.
According to the Times, Fain has also repeatedly raised the proposed rules’ stringency with White House officials. In comments filed with the EPA, the union asked that the final rule ramp up its carbon requirements at a slower rate than initially proposed.
The power plant rules could also attract some skepticism from labor. Although the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers endorsed Biden nearly a year ago, it fought an earlier version of the EPA’s power plant rules in 2014.
Changing how labor unions feel about the rules isn’t only important to Biden’s ability to sell the rules politically; it may also help him in court. The EPA and Biden administration would much rather have the unions on their side when GOP-led states sue over the regulations, as they almost certainly will. — Robinson Meyer
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Roads bring people, and people start fires.
The United States has more roads than you could possibly imagine. Eighty-three percent of the land in the Lower 48 lies within one kilometer of a road; if you’re seeking isolation, the furthest you can get away from one is likely only about 25 miles, in a far-flung corner of Yellowstone National Park.
The Trump administration wants to build even more. Earlier this week, the U.S. Department of Agriculture filed to rescind the nearly quarter-century-old Roadless Area Conservation Rule, which protects about 45 million acres of pristine national forest lands from the construction of — and dissection by — new permanent roads. The USDA’s given reason? That new roads will provide the access forest managers and fire practitioners need to better prevent wildfires in the nation’s most remote locations.
Fire ecologists immediately cried foul. Researchers have long understood that roads enable wildfire ignitions by bringing people — who are responsible for starting nearly 85% of fires — into the landscapes. Just this past January, new research found that wildfires ignited four times more often within 50 meters of a road than in an untracked, intact forest. “The notion that you can prevent fires by building roads seems to me precisely backwards when you look at what the science says,” Ben Goldfarb, the author of the road ecology book Crossings, told me.
But this past spring, Americans got a good idea of what wildfires look like when there aren’t roads around. Lightning storms in Northern Ontario ignited fires in an area so remote that officials found it “impossible to get firefighters on the ground” to fight them, per The New York Times, or even to react early with airplane water tankers. The result? More than 1.8 million acres burned in the province so far this year, with the resulting smoke causing the Midwestern U.S. and New England to experience some of its worst air pollution in decades.
“There’s a duality — roads are neither necessarily good nor bad from a fire perspective,” Eric Kennedy, an associate professor of disaster and emergency management at York University, told me. “They bring opportunities for ignition and they bring opportunities for firefighting.” Those opportunities include the aforementioned access for fire personnel, as well as serving as a fuel break so crews can gain a foothold against an approaching conflagration. In a populated area, more roads can also mean more evacuation routes when there is a disaster, preventing potentially deadly traffic jams.
Forest defenders were already suspicious of the administration’s motivations when it comes to wildfire policy. “There’s all of the Trump administration directives to increase logging on public lands, which rescinding the Roadless Rule helps to facilitate,” Goldfarb noted. Environmental groups have pointed to attempted legislation such as the Fix Our Forests Act, which removes obstacles for forest management methods, including timber harvest, as another example of how the administration is allegedly using wildfire as a cover to cut down and sell more trees.
Viewed in the context of recent changes by the administration to weaken the Endangered Species Act — namely, narrowing the definition of “harm” to a species to exclude disturbances to its habitat — rescinding the Roadless Rule can appear to follow a kind of rapacious internal logic that “wildlife doesn’t need habitat, and we can build roads wherever we want to disrupt” the forest, Goldfarb went on.
Fires igniting in remote areas is also not a new problem. Agencies adapt to the fire conditions in their areas, such as Quebec, which has an entire apparatus for fighting fires in tractless wilderness, including shuttling in fire crews via float plane. “You can fight fires via helicopter. You can also build temporary roads under the Roadless Rule,” Goldfarb said. As one Montana-based National Forest manager of 25 years recently wrote for a local newspaper, in his experience, “the Roadless Rule doesn’t pose an insurmountable barrier to good land management; it simply requires baseline analysis and thought before impacting the landscape.”
Those who are cynical about the Trump administration’s motivations also pointed me toward the grandiose scale of the Roadless Rule rescission. Fire managers frequently talk about the need for tailored, local, and precise responses to America’s wildfires, which run the gamut from grass fires to chaparral fires to forest fires in regions that both do and do not have histories of regular burning. Policymakers would more appropriately approach wildfire management fireshed by fireshed, they say, and through proposed management plans. Perhaps most notably, the Roadless Rule protects about half of the nearly 17 million acres of the Tongass National Forest, a temperate rainforest and one of the wettest locations in North America, which “does not experience wildfires like those in other places,” the Alaskan environmental conservation group SalmonState wrote in a statement with other advocates and business groups.
Most cynical, though, is the argument that the Trump administration is proposing rescinding the Roadless Rule at the same time that it has gutted the Forest Service that is supposed to maintain all those roads. The agency already struggles with an overwhelming backlog of maintenance projects, from washed-out bridges to erosion problems that impact the water quality in drought-stressed areas. If the USDA were really interested in using roads to combat wildfires, the line of thinking goes, then it would be investing more in the Forest Service, people told me, not less.
“The wildfire challenge really calls upon us to be able to hold different dimensions and different layers and seemingly contradictory ideas at the same time,” Kennedy said, again emphasizing that one can make the case that roads have benefits in certain contexts and scenarios. But while there may be a valid line of debate about when, where, and how roads can help with wildfire management, using the cudgel of a rescission, it doesn’t appear to be one the administration is interested in having.
The facility will power OpenAI’s 10-gigawatt data center in Pike County, Ohio.
The Trump administration aims to complete its environmental review of what would be the biggest fossil fuel power project in the country in just a few months, Heatmap has learned.
This news follows Monday’s announcement from OpenAI that it intends to lease a new 10-gigawatt data center under development in Pike County, Ohio, financed by a mixture of money from a SoftBank subsidiary and the chip company Nvidia. This AI hyperscale facility — known as the PORTS-Pike project — is expected to draw power from the largest gas power facility ever built in the United States, a 9.2-gigawatt facility sited on federal lands that would be built and owned by the Energy Department.
According to OpenAI, the data center campus will be built and started up in phases, with the first 800 megawatts starting construction this year and operational in 2028. That first phase will rely mostly on existing power infrastructure operated by AEP Ohio. How things progress from there will depend at least in part on the permitting and construction timelines for the new power plant.
Building large infrastructure of any kind on federal land or with significant federal investment typically triggers a review under the National Environmental Policy Act. I’ve been curious to find out what kind of review this particular project was going to get, especially after the administration allowed a NEPA review for a solar project to be repurposed for a data center on federal lands earlier this year.
Turns out some information about the PORTS-Pike permitting process is public. Before OpenAI confirmed its involvement with the site, the Trump administration added the project to the federal FAST-41 permitting dashboard, where it posts regular updates on the timeline for getting federal sign-offs. Per the lone federal notice available about the PORTS-Pike project, it will include “several data center buildings and power plants.” That will require at least two federal greenlights: an Army Corps of Engineers permit and approval from the Fish and Wildlife Service, which is being consulted about potential endangered bats in the project area.
The NEPA permitting work for this historically large data center-plus-fossil fuel power project began on July 10 and will conclude on December 23, the day before Christmas Eve, according to the Trump administration’s estimates. This comes after paperwork to begin the review was submitted to the Army Corps in May, per the federal notice — a total timeline of about seven months.
Those familiar with NEPA and the debate over permitting reform will likely be surprised by the speed of this review. It’s moving fast in part because the project is receiving just an Environmental Assessment, the lesser and smaller type of analysis than the EIS. I do not know why the government decided to take this route because the government’s NEPA review determination is not currently public, but I have asked the Army Corps to explain this move.
I’m not sure exactly how air permitting will fit into this NEPA review, as the Clean Air Act isn’t listed as a review step on the federal dashboard. The Ohio EPA has primary authority over permitting projects like these under the Clean Air Act, and I’ve reached out to them to confirm whether PORTS has submitted a permitting application. The state agency’s permitting database does not have any information on air permitting for the project, though it does include reports from third-party consultants confirming wetlands and protected species warranted reviews from the Army Corps and Fish and Wildlife.
Lastly, these timetables are not sacrosanct. Under the Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023, agencies are supposed to complete environmental assessments within one year, but nevertheless they regularly fail to meet them. The White House’s Council on Environmental Quality said in a report to Congress last year that from mid-2023 to mid-2025, the Army Corps was the agency that most often missed these statutory NEPA deadlines for environmental assessments.
Still, news of this speedy review for a priority Trump project is sure to excite pro-data center advocates who see expedited construction as an imperative in the global AI arms race. It’s also guaranteed to put a foul taste in the mouths of environmentalists already frustrated by federal revisions to NEPA regulations they say elide analysis of climate impacts.
What’s undebatable in all this is that, as my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote, the PORTS project could ignite a new era of mega-gas plants. This permitting timeline couldn’t be more important for the future of the data center boom — and the nation’s greenhouse gas emissions.
SB Energy, the SoftBank subsidiary behind the data center project, did not provide comment before publication.
A new front opens in the data center wars.
A series of lawsuits filed in federal court asks a big question – are data center moratoria constitutional?
In early August, data center developer DC Blox sued the city of Nashville in federal court to overturn a zoning moratorium stopping them from building a hyperscale facility adjacent to the city zoo. “The Data Center Moratorium, moreover, is a targeted attack against DC BLOX, in violation of federal constitutional protections,” the suit argued, claiming that it defied the corporation’s due process and equal protection rights.
Around the same time, another developer – Wixom Industrial One – filed a federal lawsuit against the city of Wixom, Michigan, to try and “invalidate the city’s illegal police power moratorium” blocking their data center.
These two cases were far from novel or the first of their kind, and they’re now a fresh front in the battle over hyperscale data centers. At least that’s what some who work on these cases say: In April, attorneys with the law firm Vorys published a “client alert” asserting “many moratoria may be vulnerable to statutory, procedural, and constitutional challenges.” The attorneys advised that constitutional arguments against moratoria “may be stronger where a government singles out data centers without a sound factual basis, treats similar land uses differently without a reasonable basis, or adopts a restriction driven more by political pressure than by defensible planning or regulatory objectives.”
Months later, according to court documents, the Vorys attorneys who authored the alert now represent real estate firm Thor Equities in a federal case against the Ohio city of Urbana, arguing the city’s decision to reject their data center project broke “fundamental protections” under the U.S. Constitution. (Vorys and Thor Equities did not respond to requests for comment.)
It’s unclear how many of these kinds of cases have been filed to date. Data on federal court cases is quite opaque. But legal experts and industry attorneys tell me we should expect them to be on the rise as developers seek whatever tools they can find to get projects built.
“Bringing a lawsuit like this is fairly cheap, something they can do at a relatively low cost, and imposes a real cost on local governments to defend themselves,” said Daniel Metzger, director of the Cities Climate Law Initiative at Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center. “The cases out there will be bellwethers. And if successful, there’ll be a lot more of them.”
What developers probably want looks a lot like Hill County, Texas, where an LLC proposing an $80 million data center project was stymied in May by the state’s first countywide moratorium. (It predated Governor Greg Abbott’s temporary freeze of data center development in Texas by three months.) Within a period of only a few weeks, the LLC sued and the county rescinded the pause on approvals. The case was dropped a month later. Local reports state the county had to afterwards pay the corporation $100,000 in legal fees – a drop in the bucket compared to what a drawn-out court battle would have cost the rural county.
Metzger said whether the companies will win these cases is ultimately not the point – their goal is to win a finished data center, not a judicial ruling. By filing expansive litigation in the national court system, a hypothetical developer can exhaust the coffers of a city or county with legal expenses that are chump change compared to would-be billions in private financing for compute infrastructure.
“These lawsuits may deter some local governments from taking steps to oppose data center development, just because of the cost it would impose on them to defend a lawsuit, even if they know they have a strong legal basis for the action they want to take.”
Those I spoke to in private practice about data center developers’ constitutional arguments agreed with Metzger’s assessment that it’s too early to tell whether the companies will win. Generally, they said, a city or county will win this kind of case if it demonstrates a rational basis for its decision-making and courts typically want to defer to governmental autonomy. The onus will be on the developers to prove a moratorium was meritless – that’s the due process challenge – or unfairly targeted their industry in a way other sectors don’t face, which is the basis of the equal protection claim.
“What they’re saying is in essence that these actions the municipality is taking are arbitrary and capricious, which is one of the sort of catch-all standards,” Thomas Allen, a partner at K&L Gates, told me. “They say the laws lack a rational basis. And then they make equal protection claims, saying data centers are being singled out because of political concerns as opposed to actual things relevant to the legislature’s directive. They’re not basing their decisions on the underlying merits of the project but reacting to political pressure.”
“It’s a reliance question and it’s about the treatment of their projects,” added Laura Morton, an attorney with Ashurst Perkins Coie. “It’s always been important to talk about and engage with communities where your infrastructure is planned. Here, I think this is the developers going in, maybe having conversations, and then suddenly they’re getting a reversal after already receiving these approvals and making investments based off of what the conversations and rules were.”
The likelihood of these constitutional challenges reaching higher courts anytime soon is quite low. It’ll be a long time before we see one of these cases reach a verdict, let alone some kind of appeals process come to fruition. Nevertheless, the new legal ambiguity around these local restrictions is an important new facet of the data center wars, including for developers.
“Companies want to act within the law to get [things] done, so whatever tactics they can do to help get the project over the line that are legal and ethical, they may try those,” Allen told me. “And if that includes the pressure of a lawsuit, that’s a judgment they’ll have to make.”