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In a word: chaos.
A moment of profound uncertainty for many of America’s environmental laws has just become even more uncertain-er. This week, as President-elect Donald Trump considers how to revise or repeal the country’s bedrock climate laws, one of the country’s oldest environmental laws has been thrown into jeopardy.
A three-judge panel on the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled earlier this week that key rules governing the National Environmental Policy Act, which requires the federal government to study the environmental impact of its actions, do not carry the force of law. The ruling might — might — lay the groundwork for a massive revolution in the country’s environmental permitting regime. But for the time being, they guarantee a lot of chaos.
Whenever the federal government wants to build a new piece of infrastructure — and to some degree, whenever it wants to do anything significant— it has to go through NEPA. That sounds great in theory, but NEPA studies — which were originally meant to be just a few pages long — have now swelled in length, running into the thousands of pages and taking years to complete. They have become the subject of criticism from conservatives and some liberals.
That’s because NEPA doesn’t actually require the government to take the most environmentally friendly action. It only mandates that the government study the alternatives and arrive at a decision. Many critics, including progressives, now argue that NEPA has become a great bulwark of the status quo — a way for wealthy NIMBYs to slow down and block virtually any project they don’t like, including the large-scale solar, wind, and transmission projects necessary for the energy transition.
Other progressives argue that NEPA still serves a purpose — that it’s the only way environmental groups can provide a check on factory farms, new federal construction projects, or other big pieces of infrastructure. They say Congress should reform NEPA by affirmatively expanding parts of the permitting regime, adding new requirements to the process. The NEPA process is so time-consuming today not because it has become unwieldy, they say, but because the federal government does not employ enough civil servants to conduct the required studies on time. (NEPA’s critics reply to this, in essence: Sure, but why does NEPA require all those studies in the first place?)
At the heart of the case is a small federal agency called the Council on Environmental Quality. Since its creation in 1970, the Council on Environmental Quality has issued guidelines about how federal agencies should comply with NEPA. These rules have been treated as legally binding — that is, quasi-law on the same tier as federal regulation — since at least 1977.
In the ensuing decades, presidents from both parties have acted under the impression that the Council on Environmental Quality’s NEPA rules are binding. That’s why the first Trump administration went through the hassle of rewriting the council’s rules, subjecting them to the same notice-and-comment process other federal regulations must go through before they can be changed. The Biden administration later replaced the Trump administration’s rules with its own version.
But that actually isn’t the case, the judges ruled. The Council on Environmental Quality was never allowed to issue binding regulations about NEPA in the first place, they decided.
The Council on Environmental Quality can issue guidelines about how agencies should follow NEPA, the judges said. But these will have the same legal authority as executive orders, which can guide agency decisionmaking but provide no outside legal recourse. Executive orders are sort of like internal corporate policies for the government: They’re supposed to be followed by employees, but nobody can appeal to a court that a company got them wrong. What the council cannot do, the court said, is issue rules, quasi-laws that outside groups can appeal to and claim aren’t being obeyed in court.
If upheld, the ruling would throw virtually the entire body of law around NEPA into question — hundreds of cases, thousands of pages of rules, and hundreds of thousands of analyses all premised on the idea that the Center on Environmental Quality is the final NEPA arbiter. It could also vastly weaken NEPA, allowing the government to build projects quickly while giving Americans and nonprofit groups little recourse to stop them.
“It’s a very big deal,” James Coleman, an energy law professor at the University of Minnesota, told me. “NEPA by itself is a very limited piece of text. When it was adopted, no one imagined that it would lead to this comprehensive permitting system where it would take five years to get a permit.”
Over time, court cases and White House regulations have turned NEPA into the juggernaut that it is today. But now that’s exactly what is up in the air — potentially. “If a judge thinks that the decades of cases we’ve had are misconceived, then they don’t have to follow it any more,” Coleman said.
What’s odd about the case is that neither side intended to get this ruling in the first place. Neither the Federal Aviation Administration nor the Marin Audubon Society, a San Francisco-area birding group, set out to strike down the entire body of NEPA regulations. The FAA had relied on the Council on Environmental Quality’s rules when it approved a plan for tourism flights over national parks, saying that the regulations didn’t require it to conduct a NEPA study. The Marin Audubon Society argued that the air tours didn’t fall under an exemption created by the rules.
Two Republican-appointed judges on the panel then essentially took the case into their own hands, using the dispute as an opportunity to throw modern NEPA procedure into question. In fact, they said, the Council on Environmental Quality never had the authority to issue rules in the first place — so the claimed exemption didn’t matter. (Judge Sri Srinivasan, who dissented from part of the ruling, criticized the judges for opening such big legal questions when they didn’t need to do so.)
The outcome doesn’t mean that the federal government will immediately move faster to approve infrastructure projects — in some cases, it might move slower. As part of its rules, the Council on Environmental Quality has approved a list of “categorical exclusions,” federal actions that do not require a NEPA review. These can include activities like holding a small meeting or taking out a federal farm loan. The judges have now rejected the council’s ability to create categorical exclusions altogether,meaning that many more federal actions may — at least at first — be subject to NEPA oversight. (Congress has also told agencies to create some categorical exclusions — including for oil and gas drilling — and those are not affected by the case.)
For that reason, some environmental lawyers are doubtful that the argument will change NEPA in the way its opponents hope. “What the ruling does is deeply complicate things for both sides,” Sam Sankhar, the senior vice president at Earthjustice, an environmental legal group, told me. “The NEPA regulations are a body of law that has developed over years to guide the way that people do the NEPA process. The absence of those regulations does not mean the absence of NEPA — it means the absence of any guidelines about how to implement NEPA in the future.”
If the NEPA regulations get tossed out, he said, then it will “really be up to each individual judge to wing it” when interpreting the law, he added.
Nicholas Bagley, a University of Michigan law professor who has written critically about NEPA and other liberal laws that focus on procedure, tends to agree with that view. “When you go to court, agencies and challengers both would look at these regulations as a sword or a shield,” he said. Challengers used the White House rules as a weapon, asserting that the government needed to look at some question but failed to do so. But the federal government used those same rules “as a shield,” he said, showing that it faithfully followed the rules, and therefore that judges didn’t need to get involved.
If the rules are gone, then each side has lost a tool — and judges will have much more power. That means federal agencies, which are hesitant to run afoul of the courts, may now become even more timid in their decision-making, Bagley said. What’s more, the White House’s regulations would still act as executive orders, binding agency action. “They just won’t be enforceable in court,” he said. (The Trump administration could also respond by chucking out the White House regulations altogether, he said.)
It’s unclear what happens next. If the FAA appeals, the D.C. Circuit could choose to hear the case again en banc, meaning the full panel of judges — a majority of whom were appointed by Democrats — would consider the questions. But eventually a higher court may weigh in. “I would not be surprised at all to find this eventually find its way to the Supreme Court,” Coleman told me. In the past, the Supreme Court has ruled that the Council on Environmental Quality’s regulations carry the force of law. But the new, arch-conservative court — and the incoming Trump administration — might push for a different approach.
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Trump 2.0 may sound the death knell for climate tech — not the concept, of course, but the phrase. “Climate tech” became ubiquitous during the Biden era, attached to companies pitching anything vaguely related to either climate change or technology, as well as the specialized and well-resourced venture capital firms created to fund them. It’s even in my job title: climate tech reporter.
I’ve been hearing rumblings around the liabilities of this language for a while, going back well before the election. The big bummer truth is that talking about “climate” is polarizing, and though we may be mostly removed from the days of pure denialism, climate solutions are now being framed as a priority of the elites. “I’ll go anywhere to talk about how the climate agenda is ending the American dream,” the president of the Heritage Foundation and leader of Project 2025, Kevin Roberts, said at this year’s New York Climate Week.
Given that an unfortunately solid percentage of the next administration is likely sympathetic to Roberts’ notions, I was inclined to agree with Tommy Leep, the founder and sole operator of the software-focused “climate tech” venture firm Jetstream, when he posted this a few days after the election.
When I followed up with Leep, he told me, “I actually think it’s still a great time to start a climate startup. Just don’t call it a climate startup.” No matter who is in office, Leep said, he sees the arc of the startup universe bending toward companies with positive climate externalities. But that doesn’t mean we need to categorize them as such. “Call it ‘American dynamism,’ or ‘critical infrastructure,’ or ‘frontier tech,’ or any of these other things.”
Todd Khozein, co-founder and CEO of the startup incubator and investment firm SecondMuse, threw out some additional ideas — “energy efficiency,” “energy independence,” and “resilient cities” could all do the trick. After all, “Who doesn’t want a resilient city? Who doesn’t want to save?” Khozein asked.
And while Trump’s preferred term for his fossil-fuel oriented agenda, “energy dominance,” is a tad aggressive and definitely not something I’d want on my business card, many climate tech companies do play in the realm of “energy security” and “energy resilience” by providing baseload power to stabilize the grid, secure fuel supplies, and wean the U.S. off energy imports (a process that has been ongoing for more than a decade). These could be excellent euphemisms, because even if Trump guts the Department of Energy, he will definitely not do the same to the Department of Defense. DOD funding supports a number of clean technologies, including next generation geothermal, novel battery tech, and sustainable aviation fuel.
“I think that we’ll see a very rapid adaptation of the language of entrepreneurs because their survival is dependent upon it,” Khozein told me. “A lot of these businesses, if you’re not going to get that million dollar grant, if you’re not going to get that [Small Business Innovation Research funding], if you’re not going to get that support from the Department of Energy, then there’s simply no future.”
There’s certainly precedent for this type of alternate framing. This summer I reported on Florida’s climate resilience-focused tech hub, formed shortly after Governor Ron DeSantis deleted the words “climate change” from state law. But Francesca de Quesada Covey, who leads the hub’s development, told me that what resonates most with Floridians is the acknowledgement that their “relationship with water is changing.” And when I was researching the funding landscape for climate adaptation tech, Jay Koh, co-founder of the investment firm The Lightsmith Group, told me that the adaptation companies he’s interested in often “call themselves ‘business continuity’ or ‘water efficiency’ or ‘agricultural precision technologies’ or ‘supply chain management in the face of weather volatility.’”
Since Trump loyalists will be holding the purse strings of coveted government subsidies, grants, and loans, it’s clear why companies would want to rebrand. But Leep told me it’s an open question as to whether VCs such as Jetstream will feel compelled to follow suit. Personally, he’s now most excited to support startups that not only have a positive environmental impact, but are also aligned with the incoming administration’s focus on domestic manufacturing.
As for his website that advertises Jetstream’s focus on “pre-seed climate tech software startups?”
“Give me a couple months,” Leep assured me. “I’m sorting through what that language is.”
Current conditions: The Philippines issued its highest storm alert ahead of Super Typhoon Usagi • Pakistan declared a health emergency in Punjab as toxic smog worsened • Tropical Storm Sara is not expected to pose a major threat to Florida.
1. Leading climate advocates call for overhaul of COP process
Some of the leading voices on global climate science and policy have called for a fundamental overhaul of the COP process, saying the current structure “simply cannot deliver the change” at the exponential speed and scale that is necessary. The open letter, addressed to Executive Secretary of the UNFCCC Simon Stiell, is signed by 22 prominent researchers, advocates, and policymakers including former UNFCCC Executive Secretary Christiana Figueres, former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, and Director of the Potsdam Institute for Climate Action Research Johan Rockström. In short, the letter calls for less talk and more action, recommending the following measures:
So far negotiations at COP29 in Baku have been slow and unproductive. The president of host country Azerbaijan used his speech at the event to hail fossil fuels as a “gift of god.” Meanwhile multiple new reports have been released showing that emissions continue to rise and that the fossil fuel sector's commitments are not aligned with the Paris Agreement.
President-elect Donald Trump has tapped North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum to lead the Department of the Interior. Trump made the announcement during a gala at Mar-a-Lago yesterday. “I won’t tell you his name — it might be something like Burgum,” Trump said. “Actually, he’s going to head the Department of Interior, and he’s going to be fantastic.” The DOI manages and protects federal lands, natural resources, and cultural heritage. As The New York Times pointed out, “its agencies lease many of those acres for oil and gas drilling as well as wind and solar farms.” There had been some rumors that Burgum would be selected to serve as Trump’s “energy czar,” but as Interior Secretary, he will be able to pursue Trump’s goal of expanding oil and gas drilling.
Biomass carbon removal and storage startup Vaulted Deep has raised $32.3 million in Series A funding. The company, which launched just last year, removes carbon by locking it away in organic waste (like biosolids, food, or manure) that it buries underground using already existing well infrastructure. So far Vaulted Deep has issued more than 7,000 metric tons of carbon dioxide removal, which it claims is “the industry's fastest and highest rate of deliveries in the first year of operations for durable CDR.” The company plans to use the new funding to develop new wells and grow its CDR capabilities. Earlier this year the decarbonization coalition Frontier facilitated $58 million in offtake agreements with the startup to remove 152,480 tons of CO2 by 2027.
Climate TRACE, the research coalition co-founded by Al Gore, released a report today that provides incredibly detailed greenhouse gas emissions data for geographic regions. The report reveals emissions from every country, but goes further to measure state, province, and county emissions, too. Shanghai is the most polluting city in the world, and China, India, Iran, Vietnam, and Brazil saw some of the biggest increases in emissions between 2022 and 2023. The U.S. remained the second largest emitter, but actually saw emissions decrease by 61,886,693.5 metric tons during that time. Seven states or provinces emit more than 1 billion metric tons of greenhouse gases. All but one are in China. The other is in Texas. “One of the sites in the Permian Basin in Texas is by far the No. 1 worst polluting site in the entire world,” said Gore. The report found that nearly 400 states in the top 30 most emitting countries have seen their emissions fall since 2021. But it also says that oil and gas emissions are probably three times higher than what is being reported by producers.
The UK government announced yesterday it will ban new coal mining licenses as part of its shift toward “the clean energy age.” “The UK has led the way in meeting global climate change targets to phase out coal-fired power. The government’s plan to prevent future coal mining is another step in its mission to make Britain a clean energy superpower, by transitioning away from fossil fuels to cleaner, homegrown energy sources,” announcement said. The UK closed its last remaining coal power plant earlier this year.
There are more than 1,700 oil and gas lobbyists at this year’s COP29 climate summit. That is more than the combined number of delegates from the 10 nations most vulnerable to climate change.
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 andtakeaways, 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.”