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It’s known as the 50% rule, and Southwest Florida hates it.

After the storm, we rebuild. That’s the mantra repeated by residents, businesses and elected officials after any big storm. Hurricane Milton may have avoided the worst case scenario of a direct hit on the Tampa Bay area, but communities south of Tampa experienced heavy flooding just a couple weeks after being hit by Hurricane Helene.
While the damage is still being assessed in Sarasota County’s barrier islands, homes that require extensive renovations will almost certainly run up against what is known as the 50% rule — or, in Southwest Florida, the “dreaded 50% rule.”
In flood zone-situated communities eligible to receive insurance from the National Flood Insurance Program, any renovations to repair “substantial damage” — defined as repairs whose cost exceeds 50% of the value of the structure (not the land, which can often be quite valuable due to its proximity to the water) — must bring the entire structure “into compliance with current local floodplain management standards.” In practice, this typically means elevating the home above what FEMA defines as the area’s “base flood elevation,” which is the level that a “100-year-flood” would reach, plus some amount determined by the building code.
The rule almost invites conflict. Because just as much as local communities and homeowners want to restore things to the way they were, the federal government doesn’t want to insure structures that are simply going to get destroyed. On Siesta Key, where Milton made landfall, the base flood elevation ranges from 7 feet to 9 feet, meaning that elevating a home to comply with flood codes could be beyond the means — or at least the insurance payouts — of some homeowners.
“You got a 1952 house that’s 1,400 square feet, and you get 4 feet of water,” Jeff Brandes, a former state legislator and president of the Florida Policy Project, told me on Wednesday, explaining how the rule could have played out in Tampa. “That means new kitchens and new bathrooms, all new flooring and baseboards and drywall to 4 or 5 feet.” That kind of claim could easily run to $150,000, which might well surpass the FEMA threshold. “Now all of the sudden you get into the 50% rule that you have the entire house up to current code levels. But then you have to do another half-a-million above what [insurance] paid you.”
Simple probability calculations show that a 100-year flood (which is really a flood elevation that has a 1-in-100 chance of occurring every year) has a more than 25% chance of occurring during the lifetime of a mortgage. If you browse Siesta Key real estate on Zillow, much of it is given a 100% chance of flooding sometime over the course of a 30-year mortgage, according to data analysis by First Street.
Sarasota County as a whole has around 62,000 NFIP policies with some $16.6 billion in total coverage (although more than 80% percent of households have no flood insurance at all). Considering that flood insurance is required in high-risk areas for federally-backed mortgages and for new homeowners insurance policies written by Florida’s state backed property insurer of last resort, Citizens, FEMA is likely to take a close interest in whether communities affected by Milton and Helene are complying with its rules.
If 2022’s Hurricane Ian is any indication, squabbles over the 50% rule are almost certain to emerge — and soon.
Earlier this year, FEMA told Lee County, which includes Fort Myers and Cape Coral, that it was rescinding the discount its residents and a handful of towns within it receive on flood insurance because, the agency claimed, more than 600 homeowners had violated the 50% rule after Hurricane Ian. Following an outcry from local officials and congressional representatives, FEMA restored the discount.
In their efforts to avoid triggering the rule, homeowners are hardly rogue actors. Local governments often actively assist them.
FEMA had initiated a similar procedure in Lee County the year before, threatening to drop homeowners from the flood insurance program for using possibly inaccurate appraisals to avoid the 50% rule before eventually relenting. The Fort Myers News Press reported that the appraisals were provided by the county, which was deliberately “lowering the amount that residents could use to calculate their repairs or rebuilds” to avoid triggering the rule.
Less than a month after Ian swept through Southwest Florida, Cape Coral advised residents to delay and slow down repairs for the same reason, as the rule there applied to money spent on repairs over the course of a year. Some highly exposed coastal communities in Pinellas County have been adjusting their “lookback rules” — the period over which repairs are totaled to see if they hit the 50% rule — to make them shorter so homeowners are less likely to have to make the substantive repairs required.
This followed similar actions by local governments in Charlotte County. As the Punta Gordon Sun put it, “City Council members learned the federal regulation impacts its homeowners — and they decided to do something about it.” In the Sarasota County community of North Port, local officials scrapped a rule that added up repair costs over a five-year period to make it possible for homeowners to rebuild without triggering elevation requirements.
When the 50% rule “works,” it can lead to the communities most affected by big storms being fundamentally changed, both in terms of the structures that are built and who occupies them. The end result of the rebuilding following Helene and Milton — or the next big storm to hit Florida’s Gulf Coast — or the one after that, and so on — may be wealthier homeowners in more resilient homes essentially serving as a flood barrier for everyone else, and picking up more of the bill if the waters rise too high again.
Florida’s Gulf Coast has long been seen as a place where the middle class can afford beachfront property. Elected officials’ resistance to the FEMA rule only goes to show just how important keeping a lid on the cost of living — quite literally, the cost of legally inhabiting a structure — is to the voters and residents they represent.
Still, said Brandes, “There’s the right way to come out of this thing. The wrong way is to build exactly back what you built before.”
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The proposal resolves an issue that has bedeviled the industry since 2022.
Is Rosemont about to be BAAJA blasted away?
In a 2022 decision formally titled Center for Biological Diversity v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that Rosemont Copper Company its claim under the General Mining Act of 1872 did not give the company license to dump literally millions of tons of waste rock on adjacent Forest Service land. Though Rosemont argued that the use fell under the law’s provisions for “mill sites” on public lands used for mining, the court found that because the parcel in question lacked valid mining claims of its own, the Mining Act did not justify its use under its own permissive regime.
The conservative energy group ClearPath Action described the decision as “a significant departure from long-held mining practices.” Industry groups said that the decision would vastly extend and complicate the process of mining on public lands by putting areas with mineral claims into a separate legal and permitting category from adjacent land that had customarily been considered part of the mining development.
Almost immediately after the court decision, the mining industry and its allies in Congress got to work trying to “fix” the Rosemont decision in order to restore the pre-2022 status quo.
One proposed fix — the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act — has been introduced several times in both houses of Congress, including as far back as 2023 in a Senate bill co-sponsored by Catherine Cortez Masto of Nevada and Jim Risch of Idaho.
Another version of the bill, sponsored by Nevada Republican Mark Amodei, Nevada Democrat Steven Horsford, and Alaska Republican Mark Begich, passed the House of Representatives late last year with a handful of Democratic votes. Both bills would have explicitly established that miners could claim public land for waste rock disposal as long as it was “reasonably necessary” and “reasonably incident” to mineral development.
Now they may all be getting their wish. The comprehensive permitting bill introduced by Republican and Democratic leaders in the Senate known as the Bipartisan American Affordability and Jobs Act, includes the full text of the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act
Both parties have been trying to jumpstart the domestic mining and critical minerals industry, especially for materials key to energy sectors, such as copper and lithium. The long lead time it takes to permit and open a mine is one of the major barriers to developing the domestic mining industry (along with nasty price competition from overseas miners and refiners, especially those controlled by Chinese firms).
This is not the first time a bipartisan permitting bill has included what’s known a “Rosemont fix.” There was also one in the 2024 Energy Permitting Reform Act, and in the Senate FREEDOM Act introduced by Cortez Masto and Arkansas Republican Tom Cotton this past summer.
You may have noticed lots of Nevadans associated with these bills. That’s because “Nevada is to mining as Texas is to oil and gas,” Aaron Mintzes, deputy policy director of Earthworks, a frequent and vigorous adversary of the mining industry, told me
While environmental groups generally supported the Rosemont decision, some groups supporting the clean energy industry backed the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act, including Bipartisan Policy Center’s lobbying arm, the clean energy trade group Advanced Energy United, and the Zero Emission Transportation Association, which includes several copper and lithium companies among its members. (Mintzes described ZETA as “the lithium mining lobby” and an “outlier” among clean energy groups in supporting the Mining Regulatory Clarity Act.)
Instead of a technical fix that would comply with the spirit of existing law, Mintzes described the changes to mining regulation in BAAJA as giving mining companies “a nearly unlimited amount of public lands for their waste dumps, for their roads, for their pipelines, for their transmission lines, and for any other purpose that would be reasonably incident to mining.” That goes beyond the mill sites envisioned by the 1872 law, he said.
The National Mining Association, on the other hand, praised the bill Wednesday, with its president Rich Nolan saying in a statement that the existing permitting process is “mired in duplication, endless litigation and uncertainty,” and that “elected officials on both sides of the aisle have long acknowledged that the status quo cannot continue.”
Albert Gore, the executive director of the Zero Emission Transportation Association, told me that there was a “broad recognition” among miners, refiners, and operators that the Rosemont decision required a statutory fix.
“It needed to be clarified in order to remove uncertainty. It's hard enough to invest in mineral production in the United States,” Gore said.
BAAJA’s mining provisions also include the Abandoned Hardrock Mine Fund, which would be funded by maintenance fees collected by the Department of the Interior under the same 19th century mining law. This fund would support a program established by the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law to clean up abandoned mining sites.
In a transcript of a strategy call between environmental organizations on the BAAJA published by Punchbowl, Mintzes described the fund as “the one good thing I spotted in this bill so far.”
Exploratory projects are making a splash in Maine and Alaska.
A legal brawl is brewing over what could be the nation’s first underwater data centers.
Two subsidiaries of a new LLC named DeepGreen have applied for “preliminary” permits from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission that would give four years of permission for studies and analysis towards constructing underwater data centers off remote coastlines in Maine and Alaska. The data centers as proposed would be powered entirely by tidal energy, as in, the power of waves themselves – a technological innovation from hydropower still being piloted around the world. Project descriptions submitted to FERC lay out what these data centers would look like in broad strokes: hundreds of hydrokinetic turbines, dozens of underwater “data center pods,” and miles of subsea cable. The permits would not authorize construction, which would need its own lengthy review process. But these early green lights would tee both areas up for years of potential conflict over hypotheticals that feel real to those on the ground.
There are upsides from purely a carbon emissions perspective. Relying on tidal energy suggests they’d be greenhouse gas-free, powered by the energy of the ocean. It would also eliminate the land use problem that upends so many AI data center projects. There are also clear environmental risks, as they’re also being suggested in ocean areas often coveted for protection, off coastlines where it’s unclear if the neighboring communities will accept them.
DeepGreen’s Alaska project is proposed within a more than 1,000-acre channel of the Cook Inlet, an estuary coveted by fishermen and wildlife conservation advocates, where fights over resource development already occur often. The upstart company’s Maine project is planned for the northernmost tip of the state, in the Bay of Fundy, which shares a transnational border with Canada. Canadian tidal power generation for the general populace marginally exists today in the Bay of Fundy – with major stipulations for marine life protection because it affects the general nature of water currents.
It’s crucial to note neither project has much information available online, sans brief text file project descriptions available through FERC’s online filing database. There is no public-facing website to date for the project, or for DeepGreen itself. When I contacted Louis Wolfson, a vice president at the company who is listed on company filings, he declined to talk about the developments over the phone and suggested I contact him at an email address listed in FERC application documents. That email address uses a website – “DeepGreenCoastal.com” – that does not seem to exist.
Still, we already know enough to say both development areas are likely to require substantial federal review. Not only does their presence in these waters almost necessitate it but both development areas receive considerable whale traffic. DeepGreen has already acknowledged a need to coordinate passive acoustic monitoring and “non-invasive study methodologies” with the National Marine Fisheries Service, the federal marine protection agency run out of NOAA. The Bay of Fundy is a prominent summer home for the endangered North Atlantic Right Whale and the National Marine Fisheries Service has already intervened in the FERC case for the Maine project, signalling in its filing that Endangered Species Act and fish habitat consultations “may be necessary for the project.”
The Center for Biological Diversity has also filed motions to intervene in both FERC cases, which they tell me is a prelude to potential litigation. “Putting one of these in the ocean just seems like a dystopian nightmare but it was especially alarming because of the areas they want to put these in,” Kristen Monsell, CBD Oceans Program Litigation Director, told me in an interview. “[The motions] are a step required in order for us to participate in the permitting process at FERC and then preserve our ability to challenge the decision in court if we think that’s necessary.”
In Maine, the coastline neighbors are the city of Eastport, which is vociferously opposed to this data center being built. The city passed a moratorium on data center development in response to the project and filed a request to intervene in its FERC case this week. “The City's concerns include potential effects on fisheries, marine habitat, water quality, currents, sediment, underwater noise, electromagnetic fields, equipment heat, existing uses of the waterway, and access to marine resources,” the city stated. “Questions also remain about equipment failure, storm damage, emergency response, equipment recovery, site restoration, and eventual decommissioning. These concerns are specific to the proposed placement and extended operation of computing and energy infrastructure on and beneath the seabed.”
In Alaska, DeepGreen doesn’t face a situation like Eastport with a bustling tourist destination-turned-nemesis, but there’s still quite a bit of local confusion and consternation.
The Kenai Peninsula Borough, which is the equivalent of a county-level government, is currently neutral on the development. But the Alaska Commercial Fisheries Conservation Alliance, a newly-formed nonprofit that includes fishing permit holders in the Cook Inlet, submitted a filing to FERC claiming the project site doesn’t properly take into account existing fishing permit holders and that “a preliminary permit proceeding that advances a project of this scale without any commercial fishing impact assessment” would fail the agency’s public interest obligations.
I asked DeepGreen if it had any comment on the litigation risk around their projects. This is what Louis Wolfson provided: “Preliminary permits under the Federal Power Act do not authorize construction or physical disturbance. Their sole purpose is to establish priority while environmental, bathymetric, and technical feasibility studies are conducted. Stakeholder participation is an expected and healthy part of the FERC regulatory process. DeepGreen welcomes the engagement of conservation organizations, local communities, and regulatory resource agencies as we evaluate whether these sites can deliver low impact, zero carbon infrastructure in full compliance with federal environmental laws."
And more of the week’s biggest fights around project development
1. Ottawa County, Michigan – A congressional district House Democrats are targeting for control of the Lower Chamber is now a battleground over solar development on farmland, and I’m waiting to see if President Trump gets involved.
2. Texas – The Lone Star State sure is action-packed right now, huh? Let’s break down a few of the most important fights.
3. Lincoln County, Oklahoma – A massive wind project in rural Oklahoma is now on hold amidst continued local opposition, according to a Republican member of the state legislature.
4. Clinton County, Indiana – Well hey, at least some places are still approving some things. Like in rural Indiana, where a community actually voted for considering a data center.