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The long-delayed risk disclosure regulation is almost here.

A new era of transparency for corporate sustainability is coming — finally. After two years of deliberation, the Securities and Exchange Commission is expected to issue a final rule requiring public companies to make climate-related disclosures to investors. The decision could come as soon as next week.
The rule considers two categories of climate-related information relevant to investors: greenhouse gas emissions and exposure to climate-related risks like extreme weather or future regulations. While many companies voluntarily disclose this kind of information in other ways, the rules will both require and standardize climate-based reporting as a core part of a company’s fiduciary duty.
From almost the moment it appeared, the proposal has been the center of a lobbying firestorm. Some of the rule’s opponents write it off as part of an activist agenda — an indirect route to economy-wide carbon regulations. “The host of new requirements in this Proposed Rule are motivated by a small number of environmental activists who seek to steer the economy away from fossil fuels,” wrote twelve Republican attorneys general in a letter to the SEC responding to the proposal. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce, meanwhile, vowed to fight back against “unlawful and excessive government overreach.” (At a Chamber-sponsored event last October, SEC Chair Gary Gensler joked, “Wait, are you already suing us? I just walked in.”)
Certainly there are environmentalists who do see the rule as a tool to undermine the oil and gas industry. But proponents primarily make the case that the stakes are less about the atmosphere and more about protecting investors and the entirety of the financial system.
While we’re still waiting on the final rule — which was originally expected in the fall of 2022 and has been repeatedly delayed — here’s a catch-up on what we know so far.
At a basic level, the SEC makes rules saying what companies have to disclose and how so that investors can make well-informed decisions. The two types of information this particular rule covers — climate-related risks and greenhouse gas emissions — are distinct, but related.
The former is pretty straightforward. From the growing number of billion-dollar weather- and climate-related disasters in the United States to the ongoing exodus of insurance companies from fire and flood-prone areas to trade delays in the drought-stricken Panama Canal, it’s clear that climate change poses a substantial financial risk to businesses. It makes sense that investors would want to know how exposed a company’s warehouses or data centers or trucking routes are to wildfires and floods.
But why should investors care about a company’s emissions? Because they are an indicator of another type of risk.
“A shareholder is not necessarily concerned with whether a company is ‘on target’ with any climate commitment,” Boston University law professor Madison Condon writes, “but rather in assessing how exposed an asset may be to changes in global or local climate policy, energy prices, or shifts in consumer and investor sentiments.”
These changes are already in motion around the world, and are generally accelerating. Companies that aren’t preparing could be disadvantaged, or alternatively, could miss lucrative opportunities. Steven Rothstein, a managing director at the nonprofit Ceres, gave the example of the steel industry. If you think that, in the next several years, customers are going to ask for low-emission steel — which some already are doing — or that there might be a regulatory cost put on steel-related emissions, then a company with lower emissions will be better positioned to grow, while a company with higher emissions might have to spend a bunch of money to retrofit its factories.
Part of the SEC’s rationale for the rule is the proliferation of investor-led initiatives calling for government-mandated climate risk disclosure. “These initiatives demonstrate that investors are using information about climate risks now as part of their investment selection process and are seeking more informative disclosures about those risks,” the Commission wrote in its proposal. (Oil giant Exxon filed suit against the sponsors of one such proposal in January, having lost patience with proposals it said were “calculated to diminish the company’s existing business.”)
After the draft rule was released in March 2022, the SEC was bombarded by thousands of comments from investors, academics, NGOs, politicians, trade associations, and companies. One analysis of those comments by legal researchers found that investors were the most supportive group, with more than 80% in favor of the rule.
The most contentious aspect of the proposal invited criticism even from parties that were generally supportive of the rule. The SEC had taken a strong stance on emissions reporting, asking companies to disclose emissions indirectly related to their business, known as“scope 3” emissions. That means a company like Amazon wouldn’t just have to report the emissions from its warehouses and delivery trucks, but also an estimate of the emissions associated with producing and using all the products it sells. A company like Ford wouldn’t just have to report the emissions from its factories, but also from the production of the raw materials it uses, as well as from all the gasoline burned in the cars it sells.
Those in support of scope 3 reporting point to the fact that for many companies, including the two I just named, the number would vastly exceed their direct emissions.
In a legal review of why scope 3 emissions reporting matters, Condon warned that without it, companies could begin outsourcing their most emissions-intensive processes to third parties in order to appear greener than they actually are. She also argued that leaving out scope 3 obscures climate risks. She gave the example of electric vehicles, which can involve higher emissions during production than conventional cars but result in much lower emissions over their lifecycle. “When excluding Scope 3, an EV manufacturer is penalized, even though from the perspective of considering transition risk and climate impact, this makes little sense,” she wrote.
But companies and their trade associations threw every excuse at the idea of a scope 3 requirement: It would cost too much to gather the data; the data on supply chain emissions is unreliable and impossible to verify; since companies don’t directly produce these emissions, they aren’t relevant; etc.
And by all accounts, they won. The SEC is expected to drop requirements to report scope 3 emissions in the final rule.
However, that’s unlikely to satisfy opponents, many of whom, like the Republican attorneys generals who wrote letters to the Commission, say the SEC doesn’t have the legal authority to require climate-related disclosures at all. If there’s one thing that critics and supporters agree on, it’s that the rule, whatever it says, is going to be challenged in court.
A lot of companies are going to have to report their scope 3 emissions anyway. The European Union’s Corporate Sustainability Reporting Directive includes scope 3 and is expected to cover more than 50,000 companies, with some starting to report as soon as this year; U.S.-based businesses on EU-regulated exchanges, or with subsidiaries or parent companies in Europe, will be expected to comply. A similar rule voted into law in California last year also requires scope 3 emissions disclosures and covers any company doing business in the state — whether private or public — giving it broader reach than the SEC. However, Governor Gavin Newsom did not include any funding for the law in his budget proposal this year, creating concern that it will be delayed.
Danny Cullenward, a climate economist and legal expert, said the fate of the California regulations are important in light of the likely Supreme Court challenge to the SEC rule. “It's a lot harder to mount comparably broad challenges to state laws on this front,” he told me.
Despite the SEC’s narrow focus on protecting investors, the mandatory disclosure of corporate emissions and climate risks would have widespread effects — even some that regular people might feel. Suddenly, consumers would have better tools to compare the relative sustainability of different companies and products. Activists would have more documentation to hold companies accountable for greenwashing or failing to live up to their public climate commitments.
The rule is also set to spark an explosion in the businesses of corporate emissions accounting and climate risk analysis. Most companies don’t have the staff or expertise to track their emissions, and thus will have to turn either to specialized climate-specific firms like Watershed or all-purpose corporate accountants like Deloitte to manage the disclosure process for them. Similarly, analytics giants like Moodys and S&P Global will also be called upon to feed company data into climate models and spit out risk reports.
Both exercises come with inherent challenges and uncertainties. Climate risk researchers have warned that rating services keep their methodologies in a black box, making it hard to know whether they are using climate models appropriately. “The misuse of climate models risks a range of issues, including maladaptation and heightened vulnerability of business to climate change, an overconfidence in assessments of risk, material misstatement of risk in financial reports, and the creation of greenwash,” wrote the authors of a 2021 article in the journal Nature Climate Change.
“When you ask, ‘What is my exposure to future climate risks?,’ you're asking for a projection of future climate states and probabilities of different future climate outcomes and extreme weather events. There's an enormous amount of scientific uncertainty and complexity in getting to that,” Cullenward told me.
But while neither emissions accounting nor climate risk assessment may be perfectly up to the task yet, Cullenward argued that’s all the more reason for the SEC to get these rules in place.
“If you don't ask people to disclose what's going on, it's just sticking your head in the sand,” he said. “No one will ever know how to do it perfectly, getting out of the gate. To me that is not a reason to stop or to slow down, that is a reason to get started.”
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We didn’t know days like this could happen. Then we learned how bad they really are.
When I woke up this morning in Chicago, the Air Quality Index was in the 300s, and I could barely see the top of the skyscraper across the street. The weather app on my phone featured a little image of a man wearing a World War I-style full-face gas mask. That’s fun, I thought. I didn’t know it could do that.
I went downstairs. Old photographs of the city were hanging in the hotel lobby — girls playing in bathing suits next to the lake — and I realized that the haze shrouding the old Lakeshore Drive condos was in fact haze, smoke, particulate matter, and not a lens artifact. It really used to be that smoky all the time, back before the Clean Air Act. Then I glanced up and saw that the haze out the window was far worse than the century-old pollution in the picture.
It’s significant, I think, that a mass smoke-out like this has now happened to the eastern U.S. for a second time. Second times matter. When exhaust from Canadian wildfires blanketed the Northeast and parts of the Midwest in June 2023, exposing more Americans to wildfire smoke than on any previous day in history, one could almost write it off as a freak occurrence. It was upsetting, sure, and reminiscent of California’s climate-addled amber skies. But didn’t wildfire smoke also descend on New England once in the 1780s? Even on a warmer planet, couldn’t this remain a once-in-a-century blip?
Twice in just over three years, though — that‘s more than a hiccup. That’s almost a trend. To get smoked out once may be regarded as a misfortune; for it to recur again, without any plan to respond, starts to look like carelessness. The federal government is doing roughly diddly squat about adaptation — President Trump can build a fan on the border and make Canada pay for it — but state and local governments across the eastern U.S. will now need to reckon with a new form of extreme weather. You grew up with snow days, but now we’ll have smoke days — and schools and sports leagues and concert venues will need rules about how to deal with them. When should games be canceled, tickets refunded? Is smoke more like a heat wave or a hurricane? Hotels and office buildings will need to review their ventilation policies and possibly upgrade their equipment; municipal emergency response plans will be revised and printed in triplicate.
All this will happen because the smoke has invaded a second time — and arguably a third, if you count last year’s minor episode — and that means it could come back again. For that reason, this event strikes me as a much bigger deal than what happened in 2023. The smoke is now a fact of life; institutions will need a policy about it. The tortious creep of litigation risk will enforce that outcome, even if no federal official enforces it.
So it goes. But to be clear, this new inconvenience is not what worries me most about today’s events. No, what frightens me instead is that today’s airborne toxic event is not something that was supposed to happen. Until a few years ago, we had not thought too hard about whether a major smoke exposure event like this could happen on the East Coast at all. It had not seemed possible.
For years, economists and climate scientists have simulated how global warming might affect the U.S. and global economies. They poured years of careful work into this modeling, and they simulated — with ever-increasing levels of statistical persnicketiness — what extreme heat and sea-level rise might do to agricultural yield, labor productivity, energy demand, heat mortality, and real estate values, among other potential sources of damage. This work was useful; it improved our practical understanding of coastal flooding, to name one example. It also helped calibrate U.S. regulatory policy, even if it never achieved the crowning heights of helping to set a national carbon tax.
Yet these careful models almost never accounted for mass smoke exposure days. Indeed, the kind of thing that happened this week — when heavy haze blows down from Canada and exposes more than 100 million people to hazardous air — was not countenanced by the simulations at all. Only in recent years did economists begin to study events like these, and only because mass exposure events like 2023’s happened first.
We’ve long known that the tiny shreds of particulate matter in wildfire smoke dance across the body’s barriers and penetrate its deep places, etching their way into lung, heart, and brain tissue. Inflammation follows. What makes days like today unique is the scale: Tens of millions of Americans inhaling wildfire smoke at the same time. As we’ve started studying this phenomenon, it’s become clear that the mortality effects of days like today, the deaths elevated above what you’d otherwise expect, can persist for years. That becomes extraordinarily expensive for society.
How costly? “When monetized,” a group of Stanford and Princeton economists wrote in Nature last year, in the first major study on the topic, “the climate-driven smoke deaths result in economic damages that exceed existing estimates of climate-driven damages from all other causes combined in the U.S.A.”
You read that right: The cost of climate-worsened wildfire smoke alone is larger than what earlier studies said every other estimated cost of climate change would be, combined.
To summarize, wildfire smoke did not appear in our economic simulations of climate change. As recently as a few years ago, we did not really know that days like today — or June 7, 2023; or September 15, 2020; or September 9, 2020 — could occur. Then they happened. And happened again. And then we studied them and discovered that, in fact, they may be more expensive for the U.S. economy than we once thought climate change itself would be.
That worries me. Now we know these smoke-out days can happen; now they are fast becoming a rare but predictable feature of summer life. But until recently they were unimaginable. What other ignominies, what other tail risks and airborne surprises, are lurking in the uncontrolled experiment we’re running on the biosphere? What else — unforecast, unmodeled, unstudied, unthought of — lies ahead? After 10 years of covering the climate system, I am not someone who lies sleepless fretting about atmospheric CO2. But I do wonder what else we don’t know enough about to ask.
“Microsoft, you can’t hide, we can see your dirty side!”
Protestors interrupted one of the final sessions of PNW Climate Week — a conference that brings together climate leaders across Washington, Oregon, and British Columbia — objecting to Microsoft’s rising carbon emissions from data centers and partnerships with oil and gas companies. The company’s Chief Sustainability Officer Melanie Nakagawa was having a one on one conversation with GeekWire climate reporter Lisa Stiffler at Seattle’s City Hall when protestors carrying signs reading “Microsoft’s AI pollutes” and other slogans began shouting from the audience.
I was there, having just moderated the prior panel on how to finance Washington’s clean energy ambitions. Early on there were some rumblings in the crowd from up front. “Climate leaders don’t build gas pipelines in Moses Lake,” was the first objection I heard clearly. It came shortly after Nakagawa kicked off the conversation by highlighting Microsoft’s partnership with sustainable aviation fuel startup Twelve, which recently opened its first commercial-scale SAF plant in Moses Lake, Washington. The tech giant has supported the project through a strategic investment from its Climate Innovation Fund, as well as an offtake agreement for the fuel that will help offset its emissions from employee travel.
Whether Microsoft is building a gas pipeline in this particular community I haven’t been able to determine, though it seems irrelevant to Twelve’s SAF facility, which doesn’t rely on natural gas. But it is true that Microsoft is one of the largest power consumers in Grant County, Washington, home to Moses Lake, where a natural gas pipeline operator is looking to expand its network to accommodate data center load growth.
Another audience interruption was more pointed. “How does signing a 20-year deal with Chevron help you reach your clean energy goals?,” one protestor asked, referring to Microsoft's recently announced power purchase agreement with Chevron for nearly 2.7 gigawatts of natural gas-fired power to supply a West Texas data center. The project represents one of the largest gas-powered artificial intelligence developments in the U.S., and Stiffler acknowledged that she had been planning to ask about it, herself.
Nakagawa answered the question. at least in part, saying “that project with Chevron is initially using natural gas and it’s a natural gas contract,” before emphasizing that the company has built “over 4.5 gigawatts of clean energy already today,” and remains committed to balancing speed-to-power with its clean energy goals. She added that, “with this deal in particular, we’re looking at a range of tools in our toolbox to ensure that we can continue to grow our power, but also do so in a way that is responsible and sustainable.” She stopped short, however, of making any commitments to transitioning the project to renewable energy over time.
The session became more chaotic from there. Another protestor stood up, shouting that “Microsoft is enabling genocide in Palestine.” Other activists joined in, while still other audience members shouted back. As Nakagawa recovered and resumed answering a question from Stiffler about Microsoft’s recent decision to pause its carbon removal purchases after years of dominating the nascent industry, protestors throughout the crowd began a chant of “Microsoft, you can’t hide, we can see your dirty side.” Security eventually shepherded many of them out.
Stiffler continued speaking with Nakawaga about the company’s clean energy efforts, touching on many of the protestors’ concerns as she asked about community opposition to data centers, the role of large corporations in the clean energy transition, and whether Microsoft can realistically achieve its goal of becoming carbon negative by 2030.
Nakawaga emphasized that the company must, “first and foremost, listen to where the communities are and what they are calling for.” Regarding the concerns she hears most often, she explained that “first has been transparency. Second has been around resource uses and what are we doing about those resource uses. We’re hearing about jobs and employment and investments in education, investments in housing.”
If this session was any indication, those concerns won’t go away anytime soon.
Heat kills more Americans than any other extreme weather event in the United States. But wildfire smoke — while not strictly “weather” — appears to kill even more. Current excess death estimates put American heat mortality at about 10,000 people per year, or possibly as high as 12,000. Recent studies on wildfire PM 2.5 exposure suggest a mortality of double that: 24,000 all-cause deaths every year.
Needless to say, wildfire smoke is definitely not something you want to inhale if you can avoid it. (And really, you should try to.) But for the 115 million Americans in the Great Lakes and Northeast regions of the country who’ve been exposed to hazardous air from the fires in Ontario and Minnesota this week, there’s a chance that the damage is already done. According to a wildfire smoke mortality estimation tool from Cornell University’s School of Public Health and the Northeast Regional Climate Center, the total mortality for this smoke event could already be as high as 424 people so far, including nearly 100 in Michigan and more than 50 in both New York and Wisconsin.
Alistair Hayden, an assistant professor of practice in Cornell’s Department of Public and Ecosystem Health, stressed to me that the tool is a “first draft,” and that his team is still working on getting it peer-reviewed. “We intend it as a hypothesis that people can test in the coming weeks or months to confirm our numbers,” Hayden told me. “I’m really hoping to be proven wrong.”
But Hayden also emphasized that while the West Coast might historically be where many smoke-related deaths have occurred, “this is the third out of four years [in the Northeast] that we’re having the smoke, so it seems like something we should be planning for,” he said. “It reminds me of that saying: ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’”
Admittedly, the smoke this week is a bit of a freak occurrence. A cooler-than-average sea surface pattern across the North Pacific, known as a negative phase of the Pacific Decadal Oscillation, helped produce weak low-pressure areas in the northwestern part of the United States, which in turn allowed for heat domes to develop across the Southwest and Plains. After one did just that earlier this month, the hot, high-pressure dome then shifted north, where it developed “dryness across Canada, followed by the lightning-producing thunderstorms,” Chad Merrill, a senior meteorologist at AccuWeather, told me. Then, boom: widespread fires.
“It is very unusual to have a combination of an El Niño and a negative phase of the Pacific Decadal Oscillation,” Merrill went on. “That’s one of the unusual factors this year, which contributed to the heat dome being farther north in that particular position.” The heat dome and jet stream then worked together to direct the thick smoke down into some of the most populous regions of Canada and the U.S.
That’s what makes this particular smoke event so bad. Were the smoke blowing over remote regions of Canada, as it would under more usual conditions, “then the big cities and the Great Lakes wouldn’t experience the smoke; it would have gone north toward the Hudson Bay and then Greenland,” Merrill said. In fact, the Canadian fire season is tracking below average overall; it’s the meteorological conditions that made this week’s smoke events, as one outlet put it, “the perfect storm.”
Wildfire smoke in the region is not historically anomalous, however. A 1903 article in The New York Times describes a “yellow day” similar to smoky events in 1894, 1881, and earlier. But large-scale burns in Canada’s dense, remote boreal, which produce more smoke, are increasing. Though it’s difficult to attribute any one wildfire directly to climate change because of the complex nature of such events, we do know that fire weather is becoming more common with the warming of the atmosphere from greenhouse gas emissions. As modeled by Zeke Hausfather in the Friday edition of his newsletter The Climate Brink, “hotter, drier seasons burn the most” in Canada — and “recent years cluster there” as the country has outpaced the global average in warming.
But as Hausfather also writes, “While overall area burned is the climate-linked trend, who breathes the smoke on a given week in July is mostly driven by the weather.” This is similar to the way that, though it may be a quiet year in the Atlantic, it only takes one hurricane making landfall in the right (or wrong) spot for the season to be remembered as catastrophic.
On the other hand, as foolish as it might be for the Central Plains and East Coast to still believe smoke is the exclusive domain of Westerners, it is also a mistake to assume smoke only comes from without. As I reported earlier this year, the Eastern half of the country has seen a 10-fold jump in the frequency of large burns over the last 40 years. Nowhere is safe from the smoke.
Planning and preparation, then, should be paramount. But as Grist learned last month, there are no established Air Quality Index numbers that would trigger the postponement, relocation, or cancellation of, say, a FIFA World Cup game, including the final, which is set to be played in New Jersey on Sunday. White House officials are reportedly meeting with FIFA’s president on Friday to discuss contingencies, given the unhealthy air quality in the region.
Which brings us back to Hayden’s modeling. He offered a note of optimism in that research by Stanford’s Sam Heft-Neal and his colleagues indicates that emergency room visits do not rise in tandem with increasing wildfire smoke. “As smoke gets bad, the health impacts get bigger. But then as smoke gets worse and worse, the amount of health impacts actually goes down, measured for emergency room visits,” Hayden said. “The idea is that people modify their behavior in higher smoke” — say, by staying indoors, wearing masks, or canceling outdoor events.
It’s time to treat smoke as an East Coast phenomenon, in other words. Doing so will save lives. “Will [smoke events] become more frequent in the future? Most likely we will see a recurrence,” Merrill, the meteorologist, told me. “How often they happen is yet to be determined.”