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The story of natural gas taxes and bans this election cycle is far more nuanced than that.

Berkeley, California and Washington State put the transition to all-electric buildings on the ballot last week, and in both cases, it seemed to fail the test. Voters in Berkeley overwhelmingly rejected a proposed tax on natural gas that would raise money for electrification projects. In one fell swoop, voters in Washington State repealed several of their nation-leading policies that encourage electric over gas appliances and barred cities and towns from passing similar policies in the future.
On the face of things, the results appear to show voters retreating from ambitious climate action and rejecting electrification — a concerning signal at a time when federal support for decarbonization is about to evaporate and state and local leadership to cut emissions will become paramount. But the specific circumstances behind each vote suggest that’s not the whole story.
The Berkeley proposal was submitted by a small group of activists who knew it was more ideologically driven than politically feasible, and it proved to be controversial even among diehard climate advocates in the city. The Washington State initiative slid onto the ballot just three months before the election and ultimately passed on a razor thin margin. The two cases offer distinct lessons and takeaways, but to climate advocates, a budding backlash to electrification is not one of them.
The Berkeley proposal, otherwise known as Measure GG, was largely written by one person. Daniel Tahara is a software engineer at Tesla by day, and a climate activist by night with 350 Bay Area, a local chapter of the national climate advocacy group 350.org. For the past few years, he’s been animated by a question that I, too, am frequently asking: How are most people going to afford the steep cost of retrofitting their homes to use electric appliances?
To Tahara, finding an answer became more pressing last year when the Bay Area Air Quality Management District, a regional authority that regulates pollution, approved rules to phase out the sale of gas appliances. Starting in 2027, Berkeley residents will no longer be able to purchase a new gas-fired water heater if their old one fails — they’ll have to go electric. The rule applies to gas-fired furnaces and boilers in 2029. “We've got a lot of old buildings,” Tahara told me. “They would need a lot of electrical work to support new appliances, and people just don't have the money for it.”
His solution was Measure GG, an ordinance that would have imposed a tax of $2.96 per therm of natural gas used by buildings larger than 15,000 square feet. The estimated $26.7 million per year raised by the tax would go into a fund to help everyone else in town pay for electrification retrofits.
Tahara rallied a number of local environmental and community groups around the idea, but he did not have the support of the bigger non-profits and advocacy orgs that work on electrification policy in California, including the Building Decarbonization Coalition, Rewiring America, RMI, the Sierra Club, or the Natural Resources Defense Council.
"Any large blanket tax hike without input from those it would impact, no plans for a managed transition to the new fees, and no analysis on who is most likely to benefit or be burdened is likely to face real challenges with voters,” Alejandra Mejia Cunningham, the senior manager of building decarbonization for the NRDC, told me via email. “It is very important for tax-based policy proposals to be robust and thoroughly socialized."
I also talked to several Berkeley-based electrification supporters who voted no on Measure GG. Tom Graly, who chairs a local electrification working group, told me part of the reason the policy proved so controversial is that it singled out some of the city’s most beloved institutions, such as the Berkeley Bowl supermarket, a local chain, and the Berkeley Repertory Theater. The theater estimated the tax would cost it up to $69,000 per year, while converting off of gas would cost millions. “This well-intentioned ballot measure with its immediate implementation would be very harmful to our struggling organization,” Tom Parrish, the theater’s managing director said in a statement for the “No on GG” campaign.
Tahara based the tax on estimates for what’s called the “social cost of carbon,” or the projected economic damage that every additional ton of carbon dioxide put into the atmosphere will cause. But the number Tahara chose was on the high end — more than double the number the Biden administration uses when it weighs the costs and benefits of new regulations on carbon. If passed, the tax would more than double the cost of using natural gas in large buildings. He said some national groups gave him feedback on the proposal, like phasing in the tax over time and building in more exemptions, which he might consider for a future version. But he and his partners on the measure wanted to preserve their core thesis, which was that climate damages are already happening and are unaccounted for.
“I think part of our responsibility as local activists is to put out new ideas, to push the status quo,” he said. “I don’t think there’s been a lot of that that’s been happening in the last couple years.”
In Tahara’s view, the measure failed because the opposition campaign had a lot more money, and because even though Berkeley is often called the birthplace of the electrify everything movement, there’s still a lot of people in town who are completely unaware of the harm natural gas causes to the climate and to public health. On that, Graly agreed. “There's a huge education gap,” he said. “People just don't think about hot water. They turn on the faucet and the water is hot, and they're happy.”
Initiative 2066 in Washington State was a wide-ranging proposal to both roll back existing policies and preempt future ones. It was so wide-ranging, in fact, that its opponents believe it’s illegal under the state’s “single subject” rule for ballot measures, and they plan to fight it in court.
If the measure stands, it will invalidate the state’s nation-leading residential and commercial energy codes that strongly incentivize builders to forego gas hookups. It will remove a provision in state statute that requires Washington’s energy codes to gradually tighten toward zero-emissions new construction by 2031. It will repeal key parts of a law the state legislature passed earlier this year that require Washington’s biggest utility, Puget Sound Energy, to consider alternatives to replacing aging gas infrastructure or building new gas pipelines. And it will ban cities and towns from passing any local ordinances that “prohibit, penalize, or discourage” the use of gas in buildings.
The initiative was one of four put on the ballot by Let’s Go Washington, a group bankrolled by hedge fund manager and multimillionaire Brian Heywood, and had the Building Industry Association of Washington as its primary sponsor, alongside a number of other pro-gas, pro-business, and realty groups.
There’s no doubt 2066 is a significant setback in the state’s progress toward cutting carbon emissions. But when I asked climate advocates in Washington how they were interpreting the outcome, they pointed to a handful of reasons why they weren’t too concerned about public sentiment around decarbonization.
First, the vote was incredibly close, with just over 51% of voters checking “yes.” Second, another initiative Let’s Go Washington put on the ballot — 2117, which would have repealed the state’s big umbrella climate law that puts a declining cap on emissions — unambiguously failed, with 62% voting “no.” Third, they argue the split reflects confusion about what 2066 would do.
The “yes on 2066” campaign sold it as a measure to “protect energy choice” and “stop the gas ban,” warning that otherwise utility rates would increase and the state would force homeowners to pay tens of thousands of dollars to retrofit their homes. There are kernels of truth to the messaging — the state’s building codes seriously limit developers’ ability to put gas hookups in new construction without outright banning them. The new law affecting Puget Sound Energy is primarily a planning policy that requires the utility to consider alternatives to gas infrastructure, but it doesn’t force anyone to get off gas, and regulators are likely to approve only those alternatives that save ratepayers money.
“I think voters were responding to a lot of misinformation and fear-mongering,” said Leah Missik, the Washington deputy policy director for Climate Solutions, a regional nonprofit that helped spearhead the “no on 2066” campaign. She emphasized that it was put on the ballot in July, giving groups like hers only a few months to drum up their response to it, whereas they knew about 2117 for over a year, and thus had a lot more time to educate voters on what that initiative would do.
The confusion probably also wasn’t helped by the fact that the policies 2066 repealed were incredibly wonky, dealing with building codes and utility planning.
“I think that given all of those headwinds, the fact that about half of Washingtonians still voted against initiative 2066 is a testament to how popular climate action is in the state,” Emily Moore, the director of the climate and energy program at the Sightline Institute, a Seattle-based think tank, told me.
Sightline didn’t campaign for or against the measure, but Moore had some takeaways from the vote. She said environmental groups spent a lot of their energy countering the narrative that there was a gas ban, which may have inadvertently reinforced the idea. One lesson for the future might be to put more emphasis on the benefits of electrification, like the fact that heat pumps provide both heating and cooling and half of the state doesn’t currently have air conditioning. The other anti-climate measure, 2117, may have failed so decisively because Washington’s emission cap policy has raised more then $2 billion in funding for projects that people are already seeing the benefits of, like free transit passes.
“Likely a no vote on that one felt like getting to keep good things,” she told me. “I think we have more to do to show that getting off of gas means getting good things too.”
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The companies are offering Texas ratepayers a three-year fixed-price contract that comes with participation in a virtual power plant.
Customers get a whole lot of choice in Texas’ deregulated electricity market — which provider to go with, fixed-rate or variable-rate plan, and contract length are all variables to consider. If a customer wants a home battery as well, that’s yet another exercise in complexity, involving coordination with the utility, installers, and contractors.
On Wednesday, residential battery manufacturer and virtual power plant provider Lunar Energy and U.K.-based retail electricity provider Octopus Energy announced a partnership to simplify all this. They plan to offer Texas electricity ratepayers a single package: a three-year fixed-rate contract, a 30-kilowatt-hour battery, and automatic participation in a statewide network of distributed energy resources, better known as a virtual power plant, or VPP.
This structure is novel for the way it packages the electricity rate, the physical battery, and the VPP into one single offering. It’s also the first time that Octopus, the U.K.’s largest retail electricity provider, is deploying standalone home batteries for customers in the U.S. without rooftop solar.
“As the price of batteries has come down and the data center dynamics really take shape, I think we’ve gained conviction that Texas — and frankly the rest of the U.S. — is ripe for deploying batteries at scale in households,” Nick Chaset, CEO of Octopus Energy’s U.S. arm, told me.
Octopus already offers a range of retail electricity plans in Texas’ market, which encourages competition among electricity providers by allowing consumers in most parts of the state to choose their provider. That structure made the state a natural first market for the rollout of this new model.
Participating customers will be able to lease a Lunar battery for $45 a month with no upfront cost and the option to purchase the system at the end of the 10-year battery lease. The program is open to ratepayers regardless of whether they have rooftop solar or are existing Octopus Energy customers.
Lunar will provide the battery hardware and — at least initially — the VPP software used to coordinate this statewide network of home batteries. That could evolve though, as Chaset told me that as the partnership grows, “there’s going to be a really good conversation about what is the right software platform.” Octopus’ platform and subsidiary, Kraken Technologies, manages what the company says is the “the world’s largest virtual power plant of residential assets.”
Lunar will orchestrate the batteries’ charging schedules so that they draw power when electricity prices are low and discharge back to the grid during periods of peak demand, effectively operating as a cheaper, cleaner alternative to a fossil fuel peaker plant. According to Octopus, customers will see the benefit of those energy arbitrage savings through the fixed price of their three-year contract. Households will also gain resiliency benefits — in the event of a power outage, their battery can keep the lights on and critical appliances running for as long as a day or so.
One of the biggest draws, Chaset told me, may just be the plan’s three-year term. In Texas, he said, it’s common for households to sign up for six- to 12-month fixed-rate electricity plans, which exposes them to significant price swings in between renewals. “This is as much as anything about stability,” he told me. “Oftentimes what we hear from Texans is yes, they want to save money. But what they don’t want is to feel like every six months they’re having to go shop again. They want to just know, this is my plan, I’m getting a fair rate.”
This model could thus gain traction simply by appealing to customers’ desire to reduce decision fatigue, while hopefully, at a much larger scale, demonstrating the outsize impact home batteries can have on the grid. “We believe that is going to be changing how [distributed energy resources] are viewed in a big way, Kunal Girotra, founder and CEO of Lunar Energy and former head of Tesla Energy, told me.
Girotra framed the Octopus partnership as “a blueprint that we hope we can replicate across other markets.” In practice, that would involve the two companies working with utilities in regulated territories to offer this subscription-style home battery to their customers. Octopus can’t serve as the electricity provider in regulated markets, meaning the company would have to add value in other ways. “Because we have so many different regulatory constructs, there’s going to be a lot of different flavors of this,” Chaset told me. Octopus did not specify the role it would play in a regulated market, other than to say, “We’re excited to explore how we can partner with utilities to deploy distributed battery systems.”
Unsurprisingly, the two companies are excited to bring their new retail electricity model to data center developers, as they aim to demonstrate “a world where you can see win-wins for the consumer and for this sector of the economy that we have to build,” Chaset told me. The idea is that data centers would help drive the deployment and adoption of distributed energy resources in communities where they plan to operate, which would effectively expand local grid capacity and potentially accelerate grid interconnection timelines — a binding constraint for hyperscalers in the AI race.
“If you are building a data center in Amarillo, Texas, and you want to make sure that the community around you benefits, come to us. We will deploy 25,000 batteries, put one in every single home in that county or in that community,“ Chaset told me. Reaching literally every household is wishful thinking, of course, as participation is voluntary and these programs remain unfamiliar to most consumers. Still, the broader message he’s trying to convey is clear: “Utilities, communities, we’re here to help.”
Current conditions: Illinois far outpaces every other state for tornadoes so far this year, clocking 80, with Mississippi in a distant second with 43 • Western North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains face high wildfire risk during the day and frost at night • A magnitude 7.4 earthquake off the coast of Honshu, Japan, has raised the risk of a tsunami.
The nonprofit that sets the standards against which tens of thousands of companies worldwide measure their greenhouse gas emissions is secretive and ideologically tilted toward industry. That’s the conclusion of a new whistleblower report on which Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo got her hands yesterday. The problems at the Greenhouse Gas Protocol “are systemic,” and the nonprofit “seems to be moving further away from its commitment to accountability,” the report said. Danny Cullenward, the economist and lawyer focused on scientific integrity in climate science at the University of Pennsylvania’s Kleinman Center for Energy Policy who authored the report, sits on the Protocol’s Independent Standards Board. Due to a restrictive non-disclosure agreement preventing him from talking about what he has witnessed, he instead relied on publicly available information to illustrate the report. “Not only does the nonprofit community not have a voice on the board,” Cullenward wrote, but the absence of those voices “risks politicizing the work of scientist Board members.” Emily added: “While the Protocol’s official decision-making hierarchy deems scientific integrity as its top priority, in practice, scientists are left to defend the science to the business community.” The report follows a years-long process meant to bolster the group’s scientific credibility. “Critics have long faulted the Protocol for allowing companies to look far better on paper than they do to the atmosphere,” Emily explains. But creating standards that are both scientifically robust and feasible to implement is no easy feat.
The Trump administration’s efforts to paralyze wind and solar permits are once again withering in the cold light of the court room. On Tuesday, U.S. District Judge Denise Casper ordered the end to a series of delays on renewable energy permits, delivering a victory to regional trade groups that had argued the administration was violating the Administrative Procedures Act by holding up approvals. Per Heatmap’s Jael Holzman, the ruling “is a potentially fatal blow” to “key methods the Trump administration has used to stymie federal renewable energy permitting.”
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In the race to build North America’s first small modular reactor, GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy is in the lead. Work is already underway on the world’s first deployment of the American-Japanese joint venture’s 300-megawatt boiling water reactor, the BWRX-300. The project at Ontario Power Generation’s Darlington plant is 38% done, and it’s on track to produce electricity by 2030, said Roger Martella, GE Vernova’s head of government affairs and policy. The remark, which Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin highlighted on X, came one day before the energy giant reports its latest earnings.
Meanwhile, one of Barack Obama’s early moves as president was to halt construction of the Yucca Mountain nuclear waste repository, effectively blocking any plan by the federal government to deal with radioactive spent fuel. Since then, no state has stepped up as an alternative; either way, federal law stipulates that the site in Nevada must be the United States’ first permanent tomb for nuclear waste. But what if nuclear waste wasn’t treated as waste at all? That was the Trump administration’s new pitch earlier this year when it invited states to submit applications to host so-called nuclear innovation campuses, sites where reactors, fuel enrichers, and waste recyclers can all set up shop. It’s a good sell. At least 28 states have so submitted applications, according to Exchange Monitor.
Project Vault, the effort the Trump administration set up to create a critical minerals reserve for U.S. manufacturers to weather Chinese trade restrictions on key metals, will soon close its first funding tranche. The program, announced in February, will combine $2 billion in private funding with a $10 billion loan from the Export-Import Bank of the U.S. The project “was not designed to be a stockpile alone,” John Jovanovic, the head of the Ex-Im Bank, told Reuters. “What it was designed to do was actually solve problems that the market faces … What we want to do is let it be dynamic and let it help try to solve a bunch of these problems.”

“Perovskites hold a place of honor in the pantheon of much-heralded clean energy breakthroughs that have yet to actually arrive, alongside small modular nuclear reactors and solid-state batteries,” Canary Media reporter Julian Spector wrote yesterday. “In theory, these crystal structures could radically improve solar panels’ capabilities by absorbing wavelengths of light that conventional silicon cells can’t catch. But the stunning advances in R&D specimens have yet to infiltrate the cold, hard world of commercial solar manufacturing.” Until now, at least. On Tuesday, the startup Tandem PV officially opened its new factory in Freemont, California. The company aims to produce large panels of glass treated with a photovoltaic perovskite crystal coating that can increase how efficiently panels convert the sun’s rays into electricity by nearly 40%.
“We’re going to emphasize quality and speed over cost,” Tandem PV CEO Scott Wharton told Matthew last year. “If we do this right, then the theory is, we’ve become the next First Solar — that’s our intention. We want to take back solar leadership from China, which is a bold statement, but I think we’re on the journey.”
Over the next three nights, an eye-popping 723 million birds are expected to be migrating across the U.S. In Michigan alone, at least 5.3 million birds are likely to fly overhead. “Most of these birds will be in flight while we sleep. They are guided by stars, the magnetic field, and sounds,” a meteorology account called Michigan Storm Chasers wrote on X. “You can help these birds migrate by turning off any unnecessary outdoor lighting, especially between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.!”
A new report shared exclusively with Heatmap documents failures of transparency and governance at the Greenhouse Gas Protocol.
It is something of a miracle that tens of thousands of companies around the world voluntarily report their greenhouse gas emissions each year. In 2025, more than 22,100 businesses, together worth more than half the global stock market, disclosed this data. Unfortunately, it’s an open secret that many of their calculations are far off the mark.
This is not exactly their fault. To aid in the tedious process of tallying up carbon and to encourage a basic level of uniformity in how it’s done, companies rely on standards created by a nonprofit called the Greenhouse Gas Protocol. The group’s central challenge is ensuring that its standards are both credible and feasible — two qualities often in tension in greenhouse gas accounting. The method that produces the most accurate emissions inventory may not always be feasible, while the method that’s easy to implement may produce wildly inaccurate results.
Critics have long faulted the Protocol for allowing companies to look far better on paper than they do to the atmosphere. In 2022, the group began in earnest to try and fix this, starting with an overhaul of its governance. It created a new Independent Standards Board that would oversee and approve updates to each of its accounting rules, and later convened a series of technical working groups to develop the substance of those updates. One such group was updating the method for how companies should account for their electricity use. Another was focused on supply chain emissions.
The working groups would meet regularly to put together proposals and then submit those proposals to the Independent Standards Board for approval. A separate steering committee would then review the board’s decision to ensure that the Protocol’s overall principles had been followed throughout the process and make the final call.
The new structure was meant to “further bolster the credibility and integrity of these standards,” the Protocol wrote. The overhaul was especially timely as governments around the world, including those of the European Union and the state of California, were taking steps to adopt the Protocol’s standards in their own mandatory climate disclosure rules.
But what started as a laudable effort to improve transparency and accountability has turned rancid, some of the participants told me. Scientists are being pitted against industry representatives. Proposals, voting records, and other key documents are being kept from the public eye. Decisions made behind closed doors are going undocumented and undisclosed, kept secret even from the working group members who have devoted significant unpaid time to the cause of developing stronger standards.
These issues are broadly illustrated by the experience of Kate Dooley, a member of the GHG Protocol’s technical working group on forest carbon accounting. Dooley is a political scientist and lecturer at the University of Melbourne’s School of Geography, Earth and Atmospheric Sciences who has worked on issues related to forest carbon accounting for roughly two decades. She joined the 17-person working group in December 2024; the group’s assignment was to resolve a contentious debate over how companies that own or control forests or use forestry products in their supply chains should account for carbon emissions related to their harvesting, land management, and wood product purchases. The group included academics like Dooley, industry representatives from companies such as IKEA, and experts from non-profits including the Natural Resources Defense Council and the American Forest Foundation.
After six months of meetings, however, the members could not reach a consensus. One of the key reasons forest carbon accounting is difficult is that forests can both emit carbon and remove it from the atmosphere. Determining what proportion of those removals are a result of human activity versus what would happen naturally gets complicated quickly. The stakes were high, because even though the GHG Protocol standards are portrayed as neutral accounting exercises, small decisions about how this accounting is performed can create big shifts in incentives for how companies operate.
The forestry group considered two main approaches. One is called the “managed land proxy,” or MLP, and it is the method countries use to report their emissions to the United Nations. This method would allow companies to include all of the carbon that’s being sequestered on their lands in their greenhouse gas inventory. A timber company that cuts down trees, for instance, would count both the emissions released from logging as well as the carbon sequestered by the remaining tree stands and calculate a net result.
The major criticism of this approach is that it’s easy to game and leads to unintuitive results, where forest product companies come out looking like they are removing far more carbon than they are releasing. The method would also enable companies to use the average emissions and removals of an entire region in their calculations, rather than the specific logging and forest management practices of their supply source. Another risk is that companies could simply buy up additional forest land to reduce their emissions on paper while changing nothing about their business practices.
Proponents of this method put forward what they framed as a compromise, called “MLP+,” which attempted to put some guardrails around these issues. Regardless, the scientists in the group argued that it was scientifically incorrect to attribute all forest carbon sequestration that happens within a given tract of land to a company when that carbon removal may be the result of unrelated factors such as elevated CO2 in the air from climate change, or that a previous owner had cut down trees that were now growing back.
The alternative method that the scientists, including Dooley, put forward is called “activities-based accounting.” Rather than take credit for all forest growth, this method would require landowners to account for the growth that would have occurred without human interference and subtract it from their estimate of carbon removals. This method would be more difficult and require further work to fine-tune. It would also have the effect of making corporate forest emissions look much higher on paper.
In a final vote between two proposals, the members split 8 to 7 in favor of MLP+, with two sitting out the vote. The group delivered both proposals to the Independent Standards Board for consideration last spring, but the board could not reach a consensus, either. Ultimately, the organization decided to finalize the land sector standard in January 2026 without any guidance for forest carbon accounting, advising companies to go with whatever method they wanted as long as they disclosed how they did it. It noted that it would soon issue a request for information to gather more stakeholder input on the issue.
By the end of the working group process, the internal dynamics had grown combative. Dooley and other scientists in the group had presented certain scientific papers to support their rebuke of MLP, but another member, Nathan Truitt, the executive vice president of climate funding at the American Forest Foundation, began arguing that the same papers made the opposite point.
“It was this weird, Kafka-eque development,” Dooley said. She responded to the entire group with a long email detailing the last 20 years of debate on the subject, she told me. “I think in that email I accused [Truitt] of industry bias, because there was no other explanation for what he was doing,” she said.
The American Forest Foundation works with private landowners to support sustainable forest product markets. Truitt, for his part, characterized the atmosphere in the working group as toxic. He told me that the scientists did not adequately explain to him why they thought he was interpreting the papers incorrectly. He noted that the foundation is a mission-based nonprofit, and less than 5% of its revenues comes from the forest products industry, but the organization does believe in supporting healthy forest markets. “If landowners can’t generate revenue from appropriate forest management, there won’t be forest there very long,” he said.
But Dooley’s concerns were bigger than just interpersonal challenges. She didn’t understand why none of the explanatory memos or official proposals produced by the working group had been published to the Protocol’s website, when similar documents produced by the other working groups had been made public. (Truitt also was not aware of this until I reached out to him, and was surprised to learn it.)
Initially, the scientists’ full memo on their approach was not even shown to the Independent Standards Board; Dooley told me she had to write to the head of the board and ask that it be shared. It was also odd to her that there was no follow-up from the Independent Standards Board after the proposals had been submitted.
Perhaps one of the strangest elements of the process was that the Greenhouse Gas Protocol had conducted a real-world pilot program of MLP prior to the formation of the working group. There was public documentation of the pilot’s existence, but the outcomes were not published, nor were they shared with the group. Dooley said that someone who had viewed the results told her they decidedly proved the problems with MLP. Her understanding was that almost all of the forest product companies that participated reported huge amounts of net carbon removals, making them appear to have a beneficial impact on the climate, contributing nothing to global emissions. “To me, it’s inexplicable why that pilot study wasn’t shown,” she said.
Months later, in January 2026, Dooley received a document that reframed her experience. It was a formal complaint made by Truitt the previous April that challenged the scientists’ expertise and impartiality, she told me. She also learned that following the complaint, the Independent Standards Board solicited opinions from additional outside scientists on the two proposals. She was shocked that she had been kept in the dark as this was going on.
Dooley emailed the head of the board and other leaders at the Protocol to ask why she and the other scientists weren’t told about the complaint or given a chance to respond. “We write to express concern that this complaint was not initially communicated to those concerned, and to request clarification regarding its handling and any subsequent developments,” the email said. She also inquired about the unpublished proposals and lack of follow-up from the board. She sent the email on January 23. She has yet to receive a response, she said.
“It strikes me as a very bizarre process,” she told me. “It’s unacceptable.”
When I spoke to Truitt about the complaint, he told me he did not mean to suggest that Dooley and the other scientists’ perspective was invalid. On the contrary, Truitt was concerned that there weren’t more experts in the working group, or at least more of the right experts. In 2024, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change had hosted a three-day meeting in Italy specifically about the issues with forest carbon accounting, albeit at the national level. Truitt read the final report that came out of that meeting and didn’t understand why none of the scientists involved were on the Protocol’s technical working group.
Initially he wanted to share this concern with the working group directly, he said, but third-party consultants hired to facilitate the group’s progress advised him to bring it to the Protocol’s staff. He did that, and again asked to share it with his colleagues so that it would at least be in the group’s records, but was instructed not to, he said.
Truitt told me his complaint urged the Protocol to invite some of the experts from the IPCC meeting to join the working group. He said that the head of the Independent Standards Board later told him there was not enough time, but that the board would consult with some of those experts once it had the proposals.
The GHG Protocol did not answer detailed questions I sent them for this story. “We are in the process of addressing, through an independent review, a few concerns relating to work within one of our Technical Working Groups,” a spokesperson told me in an email. “As this is an internal ongoing matter, we cannot comment further but we are committed to addressing any findings appropriately.”
The spokesperson also emphasized that robust debate was central to the standard-setting process, and that the organization is “committed to ensuring that all discussions are conducted in a respectful, transparent and well-facilitated manner, with clear governance structures in place to support balanced and evidence-based outcomes. We value all inputs and feedback on how to improve our multistakeholder processes.”
While Truitt and Dooley vehemently disagree on forest carbon accounting and what went wrong in the working group, they are on the same page about one thing — the Protocol has issues with transparency. A new paper published Wednesday argues that the issues Dooley described are systemic, and warns that the Protocol seems to be moving further away from its commitment to accountability.
The paper’s author is Danny Cullenward, an economist and lawyer focused on the scientific integrity of climate policy, who is currently a senior fellow at the University of Pennsylvania’s Kleinman Center for Energy Policy. Cullenward also sits on the Protocol’s Independent Standards Board and is restricted by a non-disclosure agreement from describing what he has witnessed in the role. His paper draws on publicly available information in an effort not to violate his NDA. (Cullenward has also contributed to Heatmap.)
Part of what drove Cullenward to write the piece were concerns outlined in a complaint he and another board member filed jointly to the Protocol. While Cullenward could not discuss the substance of the complaint, his paper notes that it alleges “violations of the Board’s terms of reference,” and that the violations “undermined the scientific integrity of the Board’s deliberations” over the land sector standard.
“I do not have any confidence that we are going to end up in a place where there is public disclosure about what occurred,” he told me, “and that is concerning.”
His paper critiques the Protocol’s formal complaints process more generally, noting that it does not describe how complaints should be adjudicated. Because the Independent Standards Board is bound by an NDA, filing a complaint is the only means by which members can flag malfeasance. If these complaints are then adjudicated in private, there is no “external mechanism to ensure that the Protocol’s overall governance rules are being followed in practice,” Cullenward writes.
He further highlights two overarching failings at the Protocol. The first is that the group’s two key decisionmaking bodies — the Independent Standards Board and the Steering Committee — are imbalanced. The former has members from industry, academia, and government, but no one from environmental non-governmental organizations. More than half the members on the latter are from the business and financial world, and the Steering Committee does not have a single member from the research community.
Not only does the nonprofit community not have a voice on the board, Cullenward writes, but the absence of those voices “risks politicizing the work of scientist Board members.” While the Protocol’s official decision-making hierarchy deems scientific integrity as its top priority, in practice, scientists are left to defend the science to the business community. If and when contentious scientific issues do arise and the board’s decisions are elevated to the Steering Committee, there is no one on that committee with the training to evaluate the disagreement.
Cullenward also criticizes the Protocol for not publishing records from the Independent Standards Board’s meetings, despite the fact that the board’s governance documents explicitly require the publication of meeting minutes. The board’s votes are done by secret ballot, the report says, so members themselves cannot even see how each other voted. Cullenward calls for this rule to be lifted, for votes to be public, and for board members not to be restricted by NDAs. “A well-functioning organization that follows its own rules does not need to restrict Board members’ legal ability to speak about their experiences,” he writes.
Lastly, Cullenward warns that the Protocol seems to be heading down a path of increasing opacity. Last fall, the group announced that it was planning to harmonize its standards with the International Organization for Standardization, or ISO, a separate, much larger group that writes voluntary standards for all kinds of industries. (To date it has written more than 26,000 standards, applying to everything from screw threads and paper sizes to food safety and electrical grids.) The GHG Protocol published new rules governing this joint work, which, unlike the technical working group rules, do not require members’ names be public or a balanced representation of stakeholders.
One of these joint working groups has already been convened, and while the GHG Protocol published the names of the members it nominated to the group on its website, the ISO-nominated members are not listed, and the total group size is unclear. It’s also unclear what this harmonization process will look like, and whether it will involve another overhaul of all of the standards the Protocol has spent the past several years revising.
I reached out to a few other carbon accounting experts for their thoughts on Cullenward’s paper. Michael Gillenwater, the executive director of the Greenhouse Gas Institute, who is in one of the other technical working groups, told me the concerns raised about bias go back to the origins of corporate climate accounting. The focus has long been on “what companies want to report and claim versus what is technically fit for the evolving range of purposes that the GHG Protocol has been and is newly being used for,” he said.
Matthew Brander, a professor of carbon accounting at the University of Edinburgh who also serves on a technical working group, told me he agrees that commercial interests are overrepresented among the working groups — not just in terms of numbers, but also in the amount of time and resources they can spend to engage and lobby for their preferred outcomes. Despite the Protocol’s claim of being “science-led,” he told me, scientific research is often ignored. Brander was also frustrated with the complaints procedure, telling me that a complaint he submitted did not get a substantive response.
“I don’t think there is ever a perfect way of managing/governing standard-setting processes,” he said in an email, “and commercial interests will very often hold sway.”
While Cullenward told me he thought improving transparency and representation would help alleviate many of his concerns, Dooley was less sure.
“The idea that science speaks as an independent, authoritative voice is a myth,” she said. “It’s actually what my research is about. Lots of science is politicized and can be used to support any side of the debate generally. But the way the process was set up very much leant into that and allowed that to happen, rather than mitigated against that.”