You’re out of free articles.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
A conversation with Stephen Pyne, the world’s most prominent wildfire historian

The world's most prominent wildfire historian found his way into his life's work by accident. A few days after he graduated from high school, Stephen Pyne had been brought on as a laborer on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and was signing his hiring papers when he was asked if he’d be interested in joining a forest fire crew on the North Rim instead.
“I said sure,” Pyne told me. “And it was transformative. Everything I’ve done since then dates from that time on the North Rim.”
Pyne spent fifteen seasons on the North Rim, including twelve as a crew boss, and went on to study fire for a living. He became a fire historian, practically the first of his kind, joined the faculty at Arizona State University, and wrote dozens of books about the history of fire around the world. He retired from teaching in 2018, but continues to work on books — he’s wrapping up one about Mexico at the moment.
I spoke with Pyne about the history of wildfires in the United States, and what the future could look like. Our interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How have we historically thought about fire in the United States?
Well, it depends what time in history you want to go back to. The attitudes we have now are pretty recent, probably less than 100 years. The native peoples used fire widely, for all kinds of things. Heating, lighting, entertainment, agriculture, hunting, foraging, and self-protection. It was all over the place.
Europeans also had fire in their background, but always embedded within an agricultural context of pastoralism or farming. Nobody was particularly putting fires out unless it immediately threatened some asset of theirs, like their house or town. It was just sort of spring clean, part of maintenance of the landscape. So people were always around fire, it was just a constant companion. And then that changes when we began going to industrial combustion, powered by fossil fuels. Suddenly, we don't have fire around us anymore.
Where did it go?
Well, it went into machines. The burning is done off-site and we get the fire through electricity. Processed fossil biomass gave us a lot of the petrochemicals we use for agriculture, so we don't burn the fields for fertilizing and fumigating. We found all these substitutes and then we use machines to deliver those things. So it's taken fire out of the built environment.
When did the American policy of fire suppression really come into being? Was there a turning point?
A couple of things happened. Part of it is we have a long run almost 50 years after the Civil War of very large and disastrous fires. They were associated with clearing settlement, widespread logging, and a lot of it was catalyzed by railroads, which were also a source of these large, disastrous fires that were probably an order of magnitude larger than what we've seen in recent years. Hundreds of people were killed.
And then in the summer of 1910, a series of large fires sort of amassed into what became known as the Big Blowup. This was about three and a quarter million acres burned in the Northern Rockies, killing 78 firefighters the Forest Service had hired in six different incidents all at the same time, during the afternoon and evening of August 20. Traumatized the US Forest Service, which at the time was five years old.
Its leaders determined they were never going to allow that to happen again, and the two guys who were in charge of the firefighting in the Northern Rockies became chief foresters during the 1920s and 1930s. So it was just one generation of leaders, mostly younger men, who were traumatized, and the easiest way to sell the message of what they were doing was to eliminate all fires. The urban elites understood that message, because that's how urban fire services work.
So we spent about 50 years trying to take all fires out of the landscape. And we've spent the last 50 years trying to put good fire back in.
How’s that been working?
It turns out fire is one of these things that’s easy to remove and hard to reinstate. It’s like a threatened species — if you want to reintroduce a species to a landscape, you often find that a lot of conditions have changed. That’s tough to work with.
What are the conditions that have changed that made reintroducing fires so hard?
Well, a lot of it is just the forest changed. And this was a result of overgrazing. selective logging, or outright clear cutting, which allowed stuff to grow back in ways that are outside the norm. Sheep and cattle have stripped away the grasses that made light [more manageable] fires possible, and other stuff grew up in their place. Now you've paved the landscape with dense layers of pine needles and shrubs, and they don’t burn the same way, so you've created a fire trap. All of this actually started with westward expansion, before the Forest Service entered the scene.
And so that 50 year period of suppression must’ve made it worse.
Yeah, that was really disastrous. By the ‘60s, we see pushback. We’d seen the consequences. And I'll point out that this is well before global climate change is on anybody’s agenda. These landscapes were messed up ecologically. Trees and other species weren’t regenerating.
So what starts happening in the ‘60s?
We saw civil society begin to create an alternative to state-sponsored fire suppression. There was a ranch north of Tallahassee that began hosting fire ecology conferences in 1962, they really introduced the term fire ecology. That same year, the Nature Conservancy conducted its first burn at a prairie because they couldn’t maintain the prairie without burning.
It was a real David versus Goliath story. Forestry was too dyed-in-the-wool hostile towards fire. They had sort of made their public identity as firefighters. But all kinds of things started coming together and there was the sentiment that fire should be restored just like wolves and grizzlies.
You mentioned burning had historically been done by the indigenous communities. How involved were those communities in these discussions? Were they involved at all?
Almost none. There were some people who was reintroducing fire to indigenous reservations, but they were foresters with the Bureau of Indian Affairs. But it’s only much more recently that [Native American communities] have sort of taken on cultural burning as a way of restoring their identities and their traditions and maybe even claiming back some of their lands.
We often say that colonialism suppressed indigenous knowledge. Well, that’s true. But something that gets lost, I think, all the time, is that there was a quarrel between the elites and traditional knowledge. Europe’s elites treated Europe’s peasants with disdain as well. Many of the white settlers who weren’t elites used fire as well, but the elites didn’t like that.
Obviously in the last couple of weeks Hawaii has been on everyone's mind. What’s the history of fire in Hawaii?
Before it was colonized, Hawaii was fairly immune to fire. The forests don’t seem to have been particularly responsive to it. You have lightning caused fires, you have volcanoes that set fires but then the lava was the bigger problem there.
Fire in Hawaii starts with human contact, when they begin clearing the forest and introducing exotics. This started with Polynesians before Europeans got into the act. There was a lot of extermination particularly of flightless birds and they introduced pigs and rats and other things. But then it really began accelerating with European contact, when they converted large areas to plantations for sugar and pineapples or grass pastures to raise cows, and so forth. So you have larger scale land clearing that goes on.
But Hawaii was not built to burn in the way California is. We created more combustible landscapes. Tropical grasses grow very well there and burn very well, and once they burn they create conditions that are more favorable to themselves. So it’s a positive feedback system.
We’ve seen a lot of coverage about how climate change is going to intensify wildfires. What do you, as a person who studies wildfires from around the world, think needs to happen going forward?
I mean, these really nasty megafires we've seen recently and that are doing a lot of damage to communities are really a pathology of the developed world. You don’t you don’t see these in the developing world. They have lots of burning, but they don’t have these massive fires.
I think we need to do three things, and we need to do them at the same time. The first is to protect our communities. It’s totally absurd that we have so many fires started by power lines. There’s no reason for towns to burn, and we know how to keep them from burning. So hardening our cities is the first step. The second is we need to recover the countryside. Not just wild lands, but the countryside. We have to put it into a shape that makes fire control easier and will probably also enhance the biology of the site. There are a lot of controversies around that, and there’s but we have got to have ways of negotiating all those values and perceptions. But that’s something that can be done.
The third thing we need to do is tame climate change. We can do a lot of mitigation but at some point unless the accelerating climate upheaval isn’t stopped and even reversed, it will override all the other stuff we do.
Do you think of fire as something to fear?
I think there’s bad fire. Bad fire kills people, it destroys towns, it can trash ecosystems. Fire can do a lot of damage, but it can also be absolutely essential. So it’s not either good or bad.
We have a species monopoly over fire. We made a mutual assistance pact with it a long time ago. You have to tend it, you have to feed it, you have to train it, you have to clean up after it. You have to integrate it into social activities. It’s not just a physical tool like a hammer or an axe that can be picked up and put down. It’s something we domesticated in a way. And we’ve lost control over what’s been a companion that we’ve had for all our existence as a species.
We are fire creatures. You know, we use fire in a way that no other creature does. We’ve abrogated that role. We’ve abused it. But it’s only in the last century or so that we have lost the capacity to manage fire. So this is just us reclaiming our heritage and taking responsibility for the power that our relationship with fire gave us. It’s not beyond our ability to deal with it.
Read more about wildfires:
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Adorable as they are, Japanese kei cars don’t really fit into American driving culture.
It’s easy to feel jaded about America’s car culture when you travel abroad. Visit other countries and you’re likely to see a variety of cool, quirky, and affordable vehicles that aren’t sold in the United States, where bloated and expensive trucks and SUVs dominate.
Even President Trump is not immune from this feeling. He recently visited Japan and, like a study abroad student having a globalist epiphany, seems to have become obsessed with the country’s “kei” cars, the itty-bitty city autos that fill up the congested streets of Tokyo and other urban centers. Upon returning to America, Trump blasted out a social media message that led with, “I have just approved TINY CARS to be built in America,” and continued, “START BUILDING THEM NOW!!!”
He’s right: Kei cars are neat. These pint-sized coupes, hatchbacks, and even micro-vans and trucks are so cute and weird that U.S. car collectors have taken to snatching them up (under the rules that allow 25-year-old cars to be imported to America regardless of whether they meet our standards). And he’s absolutely right that Americans need smaller and more affordable automotive options. Yet it’s far from clear that what works in Japan will work here — or that the auto execs who stood behind Trump last week as he announced a major downgrading of upcoming fuel economy standards are keen to change course and start selling super-cheap economy cars.
Americans want our cars to do everything. This country’s fleet of Honda CR-Vs and Chevy Silverados have plenty of space for school carpools and grocery runs around town, and they’re powerful and safe enough for road-tripping hundreds of miles down the highway. It’s a theme that’s come up repeatedly in our coverage of electric vehicles. EVs are better for cities and suburbs than internal combustion vehicles, full stop. But they may never match the lightning-fast road trip pit stop people have come to expect from their gasoline-powered vehicles, which means they don’t fit cleanly into many Americans’ built-in idea of what a car should be.
This has long been a problem for selling Americans on microcars. We’ve had them before: As recently as a dozen years ago, extra-small autos like the Smart ForTwo and Scion iQ were available here. Those tiny cars made tons of sense in the United States’ truly dense urban areas; I’ve seen them strategically parked in the spaces between homes in San Francisco that are too short for any other car. They made less sense in the more wide-open spaces and sprawling suburbs that make up this country. The majority of Americans who don’t struggle with street parking and saw that they could get much bigger cars for not that much more money weren’t that interested in owning a car that’s only good for local driving.
The same dynamic exists with the idea of bringing kei cars for America. They’re not made to go faster than 40 or 45 miles per hour, and their diminutive size leaves little room for the kind of safety features needed to make them highway-legal here. (Can you imagine driving that tiny car down a freeway filled with 18-wheelers?) Even reaching street legal status is a struggle. While reporting earlier this year on the rise of kei car enthusiasts, The New York Times noted that while some states have moved to legalize mini-cars, it is effectively illegal to register them in New York. (They interviewed someone whose service was to register the cars in Montana for customers who lived elsewhere.)
If the automakers did follow Trump’s directive and stage a tiny car revival, it would be a welcome change for budget-focused Americans. Just a handful of new cars can be had for less than $25,000 in the U.S. today, and drivers are finally beginning to turn against the exorbitant prices of new vehicles and the endless car loans required to finance them. Individuals and communities have turned increasingly to affordable local transportation options like golf carts and e-bikes for simply getting around. Tiny cars could occupy a space between those vehicles and the full-size car market. Kei trucks, which take the pickup back to its utilitarian roots, would be a wonderful option for small businesses that just need bare-bones hauling capacity.
Besides convincing size-obsessed Americans that small is cool, there is a second problem with bringing kei cars to the U.S., which is figuring out how to make little vehicles fit into the American car world. Following Trump’s declaration that America should get Tokyo-style tiny cars ASAP, Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy said “we have cleared the deck” of regulations that would prevent Toyota or anyone else from selling tiny cars here. Yet shortly thereafter, the Department of Transportation clarified that, “As with all vehicles, manufacturers must certify that they meet U.S. Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards, including for crashworthiness and passenger protection.”
In other words, Ford and GM can’t just start cranking out microcars that don’t include all the airbags and other protections necessary to meet American crash test and rollover standards (not without a wholesale change to our laws, anyway). As a result, U.S. tiny cars couldn’t be as tiny as Japanese ones. Nor would they be as cheap, which is a crucial issue. Americans might spend $10,000 on a city-only car, but probably wouldn’t spend $20,000 — not when they could just get a plain old Toyota Corolla or a used SUV for that much.
It won’t be easy to convince the car companies to go down this road, either. They moved so aggressively toward crossovers and trucks over the past few decades because Americans would pay a premium for those vehicles, making them far more profitable than economy cars. The margins on each kei car would be much smaller, and since the stateside market for them might be relatively small, this isn’t an alluring business proposition for the automakers. It would be one thing if they could just bring the small cars they’re selling elsewhere and market them in the United States without spending huge sums to redesign them for America. But under current laws, they can’t.
Not to mention the whiplash effect: The Trump administration’s attacks on EVs left the carmakers struggling to rearrange their plans. Ford and Chevy probably aren’t keen to start the years-long process of designing tiny cars to please a president who’ll soon be distracted by something else.
Trump’s Tokyo fantasy is based in a certain reality: Our cars are too big and too expensive. But while kei cars would be fantastic for driving around Boston, D.C., or San Francisco, the rides that America really needs are the reasonably sized vehicles we used to have — the hatchbacks, small trucks, and other vehicles that used to be common on our roads before the Ford F-150 and Toyota RAV4 ate the American car market. A kei truck might be too minimalist for mainstream U.S. drivers, but how about a hybrid revival of the El Camino, or a truck like the upcoming Slate EV whose dimensions reflect what a compact truck used to be? Now that I could see.
Current conditions: In the Pacific Northwest, parts of the Olympics and Cascades are set for two feet of rain over the next two weeks • Australian firefighters are battling blazes in Victoria, New South Wales, and Tasmania • Temperatures plunged below freezing in New York City.
The U.S. military is taking on a new role in the Trump administration’s investment strategy, with the Pentagon setting off a wave of quasi-nationalization deals that have seen the Department of Defense taking equity stakes in critical mineral projects. Now the military’s in-house lender, the Office of Strategic Capital, is making nuclear power a “strategic technology.” That’s according to the latest draft, published Sunday, of the National Defense Authorization Act making its way through Congress. The bill also gives the lender new authorities to charge and collect fees, hire specialized help, and insulate its loan agreements from legal challenges. The newly beefed up office could give the Trump administration a new tool for adding to its growing list of investments, as I previously wrote here.

The “Make America Healthy Again” wing of President Donald Trump’s political coalition is urging the White House to fire Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Lee Zeldin over his decisions to deregulate harmful chemicals. In a petition circulated online, several prominent activists aligned with the administration’s health secretary, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., accused Zeldin of having “prioritized the interests of chemical corporations over the well-being of American families and children.” As of early Friday afternoon, The New York Times reported, more than 2,800 people had signed the petition. By Sunday afternoon, the figure was nearly 6,000. The organizers behind the petition include Vani Hari, a MAHA influencer known as the Food Babe to her 2.3 million Instagram followers, and Alex Clark, a Turning Point USA activist who hosts what the Times called “a health and wellness podcast popular among conservatives.”
The intraparty conflict comes as one of Zeldin’s more controversial rollbacks of a Biden-era pollution rule, a regulation that curbs public exposure to soot, is facing significant legal challenges. A lawyer told E&E News the EPA’s case is a “Hail Mary pass.”
The Democratic Republic of the Congo, by far the world’s largest source of cobalt, has slapped new export restrictions on the bluish metal needed for batteries and other modern electronics. As much as 80% of the global supply of cobalt comes from the DRC, where mines are notorious for poor working conditions, including slavery and child labor. Under new rules for cobalt exporters spelled out in a government document Reuters obtained, miners would need to pre-pay a 10% royalty within 48 hours of receiving an invoice and secure a compliance certificate. The rules come a month after Kinshasa ended a months-long export ban by implementing a quota system aimed at boosting state revenues and tightening oversight over the nation’s fast-growing mining industry. The establishment of the rules could signal increased exports again, but also suggests that business conditions are changing in the country in ways that could further complicate mining.
With Chinese companies controlling the vast majority of the DRC’s cobalt mines, the U.S. is looking to onshore more of the supply chain for the critical mineral. Among the federal investments is one I profiled for Heatmap: an Ohio startup promising to refine cobalt and other metals with a novel processing method. That company, Xerion, received funding from the Defense Logistics Agency, yet another funding office housed under the U.S. military.
Sign up to receive Heatmap AM in your inbox every morning:
Last month, I told you about China’s outreach to the rest of the world, including Western European countries, to work together on nuclear fusion. The U.S. cut off cooperation with China on traditional atomic energy back in 2017. But France is taking a different approach. During a state visit to Beijing last week, French President Emmanuel Macron “failed to win concessions” from Chinese leader Xi Jinping, France24 noted. But Paris and Beijing agreed to a new “pragmatic cooperation” deal on nuclear power. France’s state-owned utility giant EDF already built a pair of its leading reactors in China.
The U.S. has steadily pushed the French out of deals within the democratic world. Washington famously muscled in on a submarine deal, persuading Australia to drop its deal with France and go instead with American nuclear vessels. Around the same time, Poland — by far the biggest country in Europe to attempt to build its first nuclear power plant — gave the American nuclear company Westinghouse the contract in a loss for France’s EDF. Working with China, which is building more reactors at a faster rate than any other country, could give France a leg up over the U.S. in the race to design and deploy new reactors.
It’s not just the U.S. backpedaling on climate pledges and extending operations of coal plants set to shut down. In smog-choked Indonesia, which ranks seventh in the world for emissions, a coal-fired plant that Bloomberg described as a “flagship” for the country’s phaseout of coal has, rather than shut down early, applied to stay open longer.
Nor is the problem reserved to countries with right-wing governance. The new energy plan Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, a liberal, is pursuing in a bid to leverage the country’s fossil fuel riches over an increasingly pushy Trump means there’s “no way” Ottawa can meet its climate goals. As I wrote last week, the Carney government is considering a new pipeline from Alberta to the West Coast to increase oil and gas sales to Asia.
There’s a new sheriff in town in the state at the center of the data center boom. Virginia’s lieutenant governor-elect Ghazala Hasmi said Thursday that the incoming administration would work to shift policy toward having data centers “pay their fair share” by supplying their own energy and paying to put more clean power on the grid, Utility Dive reported. “We have the tools today. We’ve got the skilled and talented workforce. We have a policy roadmap as well, and what we need now is the political will,” Hashmi said. “There is new energy in this legislature, and with it a real opportunity to build new energy right here in the Commonwealth.”
Get up to speed on the SPEED Act.
After many months of will-they-won’t-they, it seems that the dream (or nightmare, to some) of getting a permitting reform bill through Congress is squarely back on the table.
“Permitting reform” has become a catch-all term for various ways of taking a machete to the thicket of bureaucracy bogging down infrastructure projects. Comprehensive permitting reform has been tried before but never quite succeeded. Now, a bipartisan group of lawmakers in the House are taking another stab at it with the SPEED Act, which passed the House Natural Resources Committee the week before Thanksgiving. The bill attempts to untangle just one portion of the permitting process — the National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA.
There are a lot of other ways regulation and bureaucracy get in the way of innovation and clean energy development that are not related to NEPA. Some aren’t even related to permitting. The biggest barrier to building transmission lines to carry new carbon-free energy, for example, is the lack of a standard process to determine who should pay for them when they cross through multiple utility or state jurisdictions. Lawmakers on both sides of the aisle are working on additional bills to address other kinds of bottlenecks, and the SPEED Act could end up being just one piece of the pie by the time it’s brought to the floor.
But while the bill is narrow in scope, it would be sweeping in effect — and it’s highly unclear at this point whether it could garner the bipartisan support necessary to get 60 votes in the Senate. Just two of the 20 Democrats on the Natural Resources Committee voted in favor of the bill.
Still, the context for the debate has evolved significantly from a year ago, as artificial intelligence has come to dominate America’s economic prospects, raising at least some proponents’ hopes that Congress can reach a deal this time.
“We’ve got this bipartisan interest in America winning the AI race, and an understanding that to win the AI race, we’ve got to expand our power resources and our transmission network,” Jeff Dennis, the executive director of the Electricity Customer Alliance and a former official at the Department of Energy’s Grid Deployment Office, told me. “That creates, I think, a new and a different kind of energy around this conversation than we’ve had in years past.”
One thing that hasn’t changed is that the permitting reform conversation is almost impenetrably difficult to follow. Here’s a guide to the SPEED Act to help you navigate the debate as it moves through Congress.
NEPA says that before federal agencies make decisions, whether promulgating rules or approving permits, they must assess the environmental impacts of those decisions and disclose them to the public. Crucially, it does not mandate any particular action based on the outcome of these assessments — that is, agencies still have full discretion over whether to approve a permit, regardless of how risky the project is shown to be.
The perceived problem is that NEPA slows down infrastructure projects of all kinds — clean energy, dirty energy, housing, transit — beyond what should reasonably be expected, and thereby raises costs. The environmental assessments themselves take a long time, and yet third parties still often sue the federal government for not doing a thorough enough job, which can delay project development for many more years.
There’s a fair amount of disagreement over whether and how NEPA is slowing down clean energy, specifically. Some environmental and clean energy researchers have analyzed NEPA timelines for wind, solar, and transmission projects and concluded that while environmental reviews and litigation do run up the clock, that has been more the exception than the rule. Other groups have looked at the same data and seen a dire need for reform.
Part of the disconnect is about what the data doesn’t show. “What you don’t see is how little activity there is in transmission development because of the fear of not getting permits,” Michael Skelly, the CEO of Grid United, told me. “It’s so difficult to go through NEPA, it’s so costly on the front end and it’s so risky on the back end, that most people don’t even try.”
Underlying the dispute is also the fact that available data on NEPA processes and outcomes are scattered and incomplete. The Natural Resources Committee advanced two smaller complementary bills to the SPEED Act that would shine more light on NEPA’s flaws. One, called the ePermit Act, would create a centralized portal for NEPA-related documentation and data. The other directs the federal government to put out an annual report on how NEPA affects project timelines, costs, and outcomes.
During Biden’s presidency, Congress and the administration took a number of steps to reform NEPA — some more enduring than others. The biggest swing was the Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023, which raised the debt ceiling. In an effort to prevent redundant analyses when a project requires approvals or input from multiple agencies, it established new rules by which one lead agency would oversee the NEPA process for a given project, set the environmental review schedule, and coordinate with other relevant agencies. It also codified new deadlines for environmental review — one year to complete environmental assessments, and two years for meatier "environmental impact statements” — and set page limits for these documents.
The 2021 bipartisan infrastructure law also established a new permitting council to streamline reviews for the largest projects.
The Inflation Reduction Act allocated more than $750 million for NEPA implementation across the federal government so that agencies would have more resources to conduct reviews. Biden’s Council of Environmental Quality also issued new regulations outlining how agencies should comply with NEPA, but those were vacated by a court decision that held that CEQ does not have authority to issue NEPA regulations.
Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which he signed in early July, created a new process under NEPA by which developers could pay a fee to the government to guarantee a faster environmental review process.
None of these laws directly affected NEPA litigation, which many proponents of reform say is the biggest cause of delay and uncertainty in the process.
The most positive comments I heard about the SPEED Act from clean energy proponents were that it was a promising, though flawed, opening salvo for permitting reform.
Dennis told me it was “incredibly important” that the bill had bipartisan support and that it clarified the boundaries for what agencies should consider in environmental reviews. Marc Levitt, the director of regulatory reform at the Breakthrough Institute and a former Environmental Protection Agency staffer, said it addresses many of the right problems — especially the issue of litigation — although the provisions as written are “a bit too extreme.” (More on that in a minute.)
Skelly liked the 150-day statute of limitations on challenging agency decisions in court. In general, speeding up the NEPA process is crucial, he said, not just because time is money. When it takes five years to get a project permitted, “by the time you come out the other side, the world has changed and you might want to change your project,” but going through it all over again is too arduous to be worth it.
Industry associations for both oil and gas and clean energy have applauded the bill, with the American Clean Power Association joining the American Petroleum Institute and other groups in signing a letter urging lawmakers to pass it. The American Council on Renewable Energy also applauded the bill’s passage, but advised that funding and staffing permitting agencies was also crucial.
Many environmental groups fundamentally oppose the bill — both the provisions in it, and the overall premise that NEPA requires reform. “If you look at what’s causing delay at large,” Stephen Schima, senior legislative council for Earthjustice Action, told me, “it’s things like changes in project design, local and state regulations, failures of applicants to provide necessary information, lack of funding, lack of staff and resources at the agencies. It’s not the law itself.”
Schima and Levitt both told me that the language in the bill that’s supposed to prevent Trump from revoking previously approved permits is toothless — all of the exceptions listed “mirror almost precisely the conditions under which Trump and his administration are currently taking away permits,” Levitt said. The Solar Energy Industry Association criticized the bill for not addressing the “core problem” of the Trump administration’s “ongoing permitting moratorium” on clean energy projects.
Perhaps the biggest problem people have with the bill, which came up in my interviews and during a separate roundtable hosted by the Bipartisan Policy Center, is the way it prevents courts from stopping projects. An agency could do a slapdash environmental review, miss significant risks to the public, and there would be no remedy other than that the agency has to update its review — the project could move forward as-is.
Those are far from the only red flags. During a Heatmap event on Thursday, Ted Kelly, the director and lead counsel for U.S. energy at the Environmental Defense Fund, told me one of his biggest concerns was the part about ignoring new scientific research. “That just really is insisting the government shut its eyes to new information,” he said. Schima pointed to the injustice of limiting lawsuits to individuals who submitted public comments, when under the Trump administration, agencies have stopped taking public comments on environmental reviews. The language around considering effects that are “separate in time or place from the project or action” is also dangerous, Levitt said. It limits an agency’s discretion over what effects are relevant to consider, including cumulative effects like pollution and noise from neighboring projects.
The SPEED Act is expected to come to a vote on the House floor in the next few weeks. Then the Senate will likely put forward its own version.
As my colleague Jael Holzman wrote last month, Trump himself remains the biggest wildcard in permitting reform. Democrats have said they won’t agree to a deal that doesn’t bar the president from pulling previously-approved permits or otherwise level the playing field for renewable energy. Whether Trump would ever sign a bill with that kind of language is not a question we have much insight into yet.