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:

As climate writers, my colleagues and I spend a lot of time telling readers that places are hot. The Arabian Peninsula? It’s hot. The Atlantic Ocean? It’s hot. The southern U.S. and northern Mexico? Hot and getting hotter.
But here’s a little secret: “Hot” doesn’t really mean … anything. The word is, of course, of critical importance when it comes to communicating that global temperatures are the highest they’ve been in 125,000 years because of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, or for public health officials to anticipate and prevent deaths when the environment reaches the point where human bodies start malfunctioning. But when you hear it’s “100 degrees out,” what does that really tell you?
Beyond that you’re a fellow member of the Fahrenheit cult, the answer is: not a lot. Humans can “probably avoid overheating” in temperatures of 115 degrees — but only if they’re in a dry room with 10 percent relative humidity, wearing “minimal” clothing, and not moving, The New York Times reports. On the other hand, you have a high chance of life-threatening heat stroke when it’s a mere 90 degrees out … if the humidity is at 95%. Then there are all the variables in between: if there’s a breeze, if you’re pregnant, if you’re standing in the shade or the sun, if you’re a child, if you’re running a 10K or if you’re napping on your couch in front of a swamp cooler.
In order to better specify how hot “hot” is, a number of different equations and techniques have been developed around the world. In general, this math takes into account two main variables: temperature (the one we all use, also known as “dry bulb” or “ambient air temperature,” which is typically measured five feet above the ground in the shade) and relative humidity (the percentage of air saturated with water vapor, also known as the ugly cousin of the trendier dew point; notably Canada’s heat index equivalent, the Humidex, is calculated from the dew point rather than the relative humidity).
In events like the already deadly heat dome over the southern United States and northern Mexico this week, you typically hear oohing and ahhing about the “heat index,” which is sometimes also called the “apparent temperature,” “feels like temperature,” “humiture,” or, in AccuWeather-speak, the “RealFeel® temperature.”
But what does that mean and how is it calculated?
The heat index roughly approximates how hot it “actually feels.”
This is different than the given temperature on the thermometer because the amount of humidity in the air affects how efficiently sweat evaporates from our skin and in turn keeps us cool. The more humidity there is, the less efficiently our bodies can cool themselves, and the hotter we feel; in contrast, when the air is dry, it’s easier for our bodies to keep cool. Regrettably, this indeed means that insufferable Arizonans who say “it’s a dry heat!” have a point.
The heat index, then, tells you an estimate of the temperature it would have to be for your body to be similarly stressed in “normal” humidity conditions of around 20%. In New Orleans this week, for example, the temperature on the thermometer isn’t expected to be above 100°F, but because the humidity is so high, the heat toll on the body will be as if it were actually 115°F out in normal humidity.
Importantly, the heat index number is calculated as if you were standing in the shade. If you’re exposed to the sun at all, the “feels like” is, of course, actually higher — potentially as many as 15 degrees higher. Someone standing in the New Orleans sun this week might more realistically feel like they’re in 130-degree heat.

Here’s the catch, though: The heat index is “purely theoretical since the index can’t be measured and is highly subjective,” as meteorologist Chris Robbins explains. The calculations are all made under the assumption that you are a 5’7”, 147-pound healthy white man wearing short sleeves and pants, and walking in the shade at the speed of 3.1 mph while a 6-mph wind gently ruffles your hair.
Wait, what?
I’m glad you asked.
In 1979, a physicist named R. G. Steadman published a two-part paper delightfully titled “The Assessment of Sultriness.” In it, he observed that though many approaches to measuring “sultriness,” or the combined effects of temperature and humidity, can be taken, “it is best assessed in terms of its physiological effect on humans.” He then set out, with obsessive precision, to do so.
Steadman came up with a list of approximately 19 variables that contribute to the overall “feels like” temperature, including the surface area of an average human (who is assumed to be 1.7 meters tall and weigh 67 kilograms); their clothing cover (84%) and those clothes’ resistance to heat transfer (the shirt and pants are assumed to be 20% fiber and 80% air); the person’s core temperature (a healthy 98.6°F) and sweat rate (normal); the effective wind speed (5 knots); the person’s activity level (typical walking speed); and a whole lot more.
Here’s an example of what just one of those many equations looked like:

Needless to say, Steadman’s equations and tables weren’t exactly legible for a normal person — and additionally they made a whole lot of assumptions about who a “normal person” was — but Steadman was clearly onto something. Describing how humidity and temperature affected the human body was, at the very least, interesting and useful. How, then, to make it easier?
In 1990, the National Weather Service’s Lans P. Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis to simplify Steadman’s equations into a single handy formula while at the same time acknowledging that to do so required relying on assumptions about the kind of body that was experiencing the heat and the conditions surrounding him. Rothfusz, for example, used Steadman’s now-outdated calculations for the build of an average American man, who as of 2023 is 5’9” and weighs 198 pounds. This is important because, as math educator Stan Brown notes in a blog post, if you’re heavier than the 147 pounds assumed in the traditional heat index equation, then your “personal heat index” will technically be slightly hotter.
Rothfusz’s new equation looked like this:
Heat index = -42.379 + 2.04901523T + 10.14333127R - 0.22475541TR - 6.83783x10-3T 2 - 5.481717x10-2R 2 + 1.22874x10-3T 2R + 8.5282x10-4TR2 - 1.99x10-6T 2R 2
So much easier, right?
If your eyes didn’t totally glaze over, it actually sort of is — in the equation, T stands for the dry bulb temperature (in degrees Fahrenheit) and R stands for the relative humidity, and all you have to do is plug those puppies into the formula to get your heat index number. Or not: There are lots of online calculators that make doing this math as straightforward as just typing in the two numbers.
Because Rothfusz used multiple regression analysis, the heat index that is regularly cited by the government and media has a margin of error of +/- 1.3°F relative to a slightly more accurate, albeit hypothetical, heat index. Also of note: There are a bunch of different methods of calculating the heat index, but Rothfusz’s is the one used by the NWS and the basis for its extreme heat alerts. The AccuWeather “RealFeel,” meanwhile, has its own variables that it takes into account and that give it slightly different numbers.
Midday Wednesday in New Orleans, for example, when the ambient air temperature was 98°F, the relative humidity was 47%, and the heat index hovered around 108.9°F, AccuWeather recorded a RealFeel of 111°F and a RealFeel Shade of 104°F.
You might also be wondering at this point, as I did, that if Steadman at one time factored out all these variables individually, wouldn’t it be possible to write a simple computer program that is capable of personalizing the “feel like” temperature so they are closer to your own physical specifications? The answer is yes, although as Randy Au writes in his excellent Substack post on the heat index equation, no one has seemingly actually done this yet. Math nerds, your moment is now.
Because we’re Americans, it is important that we use the weirdest possible measurements at all times. This is probably why the heat index is commonly cited by our government, media, and meteorologists when communicating how hot it is outside.
But it gets weirder. Unlike the heat index, though, the “wet-bulb globe temperature” (sometimes abbreviated “WBGT”) is specifically designed to understand “heat-related stress on the human body at work (or play) in direct sunlight,” NWS explains. In a sense, the wet-bulb globe temperature measures what we experience after we’ve been cooled by sweat.

The “bulb” we’re referring to here is the end of a mercury thermometer (not to be confused with a lightbulb or juvenile tulip). Natural wet-bulb temperature (which is slightly different from the WBGT, as I’ll explain in a moment) is measured by wrapping the bottom of a thermometer in a wet cloth and passing air over it. When the air is dry, it is by definition less saturated with water and therefore has more capacity for moisture. That means that under dry conditions, more water from the cloth around the bulb evaporates, which pulls more heat away from the bulb, dropping the temperature. This is the same reason why you feel cold when you get out of a shower or swimming pool. The drier the air, the colder the reading on the wet-bulb thermometer will be compared to the actual air temperature.
Wet bulb temperature - why & when is it used?www.youtube.com
If the air is humid, however, less water is able to evaporate from the wet cloth. When the relative humidity is at 100% — that is, the air is fully saturated with water — then the wet-bulb temperature and the normal dry-bulb temperature will be the same.
Because of this, the wet-bulb temperature is usually lower than the relative air temperature, which makes it a bit confusing when presented without context (a comfortable wet-bulb temperature at rest is around 70°F). Wet-bulb temperatures over just 80, though, can be very dangerous, especially for active people.
The WBGT is, like the heat index, an apparent temperature, or “feels like,” calculation; generally when you see wet-bulb temperatures being referred to, it is actually the WBGT that is being discussed. This is also the measurement that is preferred by the military, athletic organizations, road-race organizers, and the Occupational Safety and Health Administration because it helps you understand how, well, survivable the weather is, especially if you are moving.
Our bodies regulate temperature by sweating to shed heat, but sweat stops working “once the wet-bulb temperature passes 95°F,” explains Popular Science. “That’s because, in order to maintain a normal internal temperature, your skin has to stay at 95°F degrees or below.” Exposure to wet-bulb temperatures over 95°F can be fatal within just six hours. On Wednesday, when I was doing my readings of New Orleans, the wet-bulb temperature was around 88.5°F.
The WBGT is helpful because it takes the natural wet-bulb temperature reading a step further by factoring in considerations not only of temperature and humidity, but also wind speed, sun angle, and solar radiation (basically cloud cover). Calculating the WBGT involves taking a weighted average of the ambient, wet-bulb, and globe temperature readings, which together cover all these variables.
That formula looks like:
Wet-bulb globe temperature = 0.7Tw + 0.2Tg + 0.1Td
Tw is the natural wet-bulb temperature, Tg is the globe thermometer temperature (which measures solar radiation), and Td is the dry bulb temperature. By taking into account the sun angle, cloud cover, and wind, the WBGT gives a more nuanced read of how it feels to be a body outside — but without getting into the weeds with 19 different difficult-to-calculate variables like, ahem, someone we won’t further call out here.
Thankfully, there’s a calculator for the WBGT formula, although don’t bother entering all the info if you don’t have to — the NWS reports it nationally, too.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
Pennsylvania is out, Virginia wants in, and New Jersey is treating it like a piggybank.
The Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative has been quietly accelerating the energy transition in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast since 2005. Lately, however, the noise around the carbon market has gotten louder as many of the compact’s member states have seen rising energy prices dominate their local politics.
What is RGGI, exactly? How does it work? And what does it have to do with the race for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination?
Read on:
The Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative is a cap and trade market with roots in a multistate compact formed in 2005 involving Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, and Vermont.
The goal was to reduce emissions, and the mechanism would be regular auctions for emissions “allowances,” which large carbon-emitting electricity generators would have to purchase at auction. Over time, the total number of allowances in circulation would shrink, making each one more expensive and encouraging companies to reduce their emissions. The cap started at 188 million short tons of carbon and has been dropping steadily ever since, with an eventual target of under 10 million by 2037.
By the time of the first auction in 2008, six states were fully participating — Delaware, New Hampshire, New Jersey, and New York were out; Maryland, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island were in — and together they raised almost $39 million. By the second auction later that year, 10 states — the six from the previous auction, plus New York, New Jersey, New Hampshire, and Delaware — were fully participating.
Membership has grown and shrunk over the years (for reasons we’ll cover below) but the current makeup is the same as it was at the end of 2008.
When carbon pricing schemes were first dreamt up by economists, the basic thinking was that by taxing something bad (carbon emissions) you could reduce taxes on something good (like wages or income). Real existing carbon pricing schemes, however, have tended to put their proceeds toward further decarbonization rather than reducing taxes or other costs.
In the case of the RGGI, the bulk of revenue goes to fund state climate programs. About two-thirds of investments from RGGI revenues in 2023 went to energy efficiency programs, which have received 56% of the system’s cumulative investments. By contrast, 15% of the 2023 investments (and 15% of the all-time investments) went to “direct bill assistance,” i.e. lowering utility bills.
Carbon dioxide emissions from the power sector have fallen by 40% to 50% in the RGGI territory since the program began — faster than in the U.S. as a whole.
That’s in part because the areas covered by RGGI have seen some of the sharpest transitions away from coal-fired power. New England, for instance, saw its last coal plant shut down late last year.
But it’s not always easy to figure out what was the effect of RGGI versus broader shifts in the energy industry. In the emissions-trading system’s early years, allowance prices were very low, and actual emissions fell well below the cap. That was largely due to factors affecting the country as a whole, including sluggish demand growth for electricity. The fracking boom also sent natural gas prices plunging, accelerating the switch from coal to gas and decelerating carbon dioxide emissions from the power sector (although this effect may have been more limited in the RGGI region, much of which has insufficient natural gas pipeline capacity).
That said, RGGI still might have helped tip the scales, Dallas Burtraw, a senior fellow at Resources for the Future, told me.
“It takes only a modest carbon price to really push out coal,” he said, pointing to the experience of RGGI and arguing that it could be replicated in other states. A 2016 paper by Man-Kuen Kim and Taehoo kim published in Energy Economics found “strong evidence that coal to gas switching has been actually accelerated by RGGI implementation.”
That trick doesn’t work as well now as it used to, though. “For the first 10 years or so, the primary margin for achieving emission reductions was substitution from coal to gas,” Burtraw told me. Then renewables prices began to drop “precipitously” in the early 2010s, opening up the opportunity for more thoroughgoing decarbonization beyond just getting rid of coal. “Going forward, I think program advocates would say that now you’re seeing the move from gas to renewables with storage,” he said.
When RGGI went through its regular program review in 2012 (these happen every few years; the third was completed last year), the target had to be wrenched downward to account for the actual path of emissions, which had dropped far more quickly than the cap.
“Soon after the start of RGGI, it became apparent that the number of allowances in the emissions budget was higher than actual emissions. Allowance prices consequently dropped, making it particularly inexpensive to purchase allowances and bank them for use in later periods,” a case study published by the Environmental Defense Fund found. In other words, because there was such a gap between the proscribed cap and actual emissions, generators had been able to squirrel away enough allowances to make future caps ineffective.
The arguments against the RGGI have been relatively constant and will be familiar to anyone following debates over energy and climate policy: RGGI raises prices for consumers, its opponents say. It pushes out reliable and cheaper energy sources, and thereby threatens jobs in fossil fuel generation and infrastructure. Also the particulars of how a state joins or exits the group have often come up for debate.
Three states have proved troublesome, including one original member and two later joiners: New Jersey, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. All three states are sizable energy consumers, and Virginia and Pennsylvania have substantial fossil fuel infrastructure and production.
New Jersey quickly expressed its discontent. In 2011, New Jersey’s Republican Governor Chris Christie decided to take the state out of the market, saying that it was unnecessary and costly. Democrat Phil Murphy, Christie’s successor, brought it back in 2020 as part of a broader agenda to decarbonize New Jersey’s economy.
Pennsylvania attempted to join next, in 2019, but ran into legal hurdles almost immediately. Governor Tom Wolf, a Democrat, issued an executive order in 2019 to set up carbon trading in the state, and state regulators got to work drawing up rules to allow Pennsylvania to link up with RGGI, formally joining in 2022.
But the following year, a Pennsylvania court ruled that the state was not able to participate because the regulatory work ordered by Wolf had been approved by the legislature. The case worked its way up to the state’s highest court last spring, but got tossed in January after Governor Josh Shapiro, a Democrat, made a budget deal with the state legislature late last year removing Pennsylvania from RGGI once and for all — more on that below.
Virginia was the last new state to join in 2020, under Democratic Governor Ralph Northam, who said that by joining, Virginia was “sending a powerful signal that our commonwealth is committed to fighting climate change and securing a clean energy future.” A year later, however, Northam lost the governorship to Republican Glenn Youngkin, who removed Virginia from RGGI at the end of 2023.
Youngkin described the exit — technically a choice made by state regulators — as a “commonsense decision by the Air Board to repeal RGGI protects Virginians from the failed program that is not only a regressive tax on families and businesses across the Commonwealth, but also does nothing to reduce pollution.”
Pennsylvania fits uneasily into the Northeastern–blue hue of the RGGI’s core states. It’s larger than any state in the system besides New York, right down the center politically, and is a substantial producer and exporter of electricity, much of it coming from fossil fuels (and nuclear power). It also has lower electricity costs than its neighbors to the east.
Pennsylvania’s governor, Josh Shapiro, is widely expected to run for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2028, and has put reining in electricity costs at the center of his messaging of late. He sued PJM, the mid-Atlantic electricity market at the end of 2024, and won a settlement to cap costs in the system’s capacity auctions. He also helped negotiate a “statement of principles” with the White House in order to potentially get those caps extended. And earlier this month, he met with utility executives “to discuss steps they can take to lower utility costs and protect consumers,” Will Simons, a spokesperson for the governor, said.
Pennsylvania’s permanent and undisputed inclusion in the RGGI system would be a coup. Unlike its neighbor RGGI states, including Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, and New York, Pennsylvania still has a meaningful coal industry, meaning that its emissions could potentially fall substantially with a modest carbon price. It would also provide some relief to the rest of the system by notching significant emissions reductions at lower cost, meaning that electricity prices would likely be minimally affected or even go down, according to research done in 2023 by Burtraw, Angela Pachon, and Maya Domeshek.
“Pennsylvania is the source of a lot of low-cost emission reductions precisely because it still retains that coal-to-gas margin,” Burtraw said. “It looks the way the Northeastern states looked 15 years ago.”
But alas, it won’t happen. As part of a budget deal with Republicans reached late last year, Pennsylvania exited RGGI. That Shapiro would be willing to sacrifice RGGI isn’t shocking considering his record — when he ran for governor in 2021, he often put more emphasis on investing in clean energy than restricting fossil fuels. As governor, he has pushed for regulatory reforms, and even a Pennsylvania-specific cap and trade program, but Senate Republicans made RGGI exit the price of any energy policy talks.
Virginia may be ready to return to the fold.
“For me, this is about cost savings,” newly installed governor Abigail Spanberger said in her inaugural address. “RGGI generated hundreds of millions of dollars for Virginia — dollars that went directly to flood mitigation, energy efficiency programs, and lowering bills for families who need help most.” Furthermore, “withdrawing from RGGI did not lower energy costs,” she said. “In fact, the opposite happened — it just took money out of Virginia’s pocket,” referring to lost gains from RGGI auctions. (Research by Burtraw, Maya Domeshek, and Karen Palmer found that RGGI participation was the “lowest-cost way” of achieving the state’s statutory emissions reductions goals and that the funded investment investments in efficiency will likely drive down household costs.)
Virginia’s newly elected Attorney General Jay Jones also reversed the position of his Republican predecessor, signing on to litigation against Youngkin’s withdrawal from the program, arguing that the governor lacked the legal authority to withdraw from the program in the first place —the inverse of Pennsylvania’s legal tangle over RGGI.
New Jersey, too, has a new governor, Democrat Mikie Sherrill. In a set of executive orders, signed before she had even finished her inaugural address, Sherrill directed New Jersey economic, environment, and utility regulatory officials to “confer about the use of Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative … proceeds for ratepayer relief,” and “include an explanation of how they intend to address ratepayer relief in the 2026-2028 RGGI Strategic Funding Plan.”
Ratepayers are already due to receive RGGI funding under New Jersey’s current strategic funding plan, as are environmental protection and energy efficiency programs, renewable and transmission investments, and a grab-bag of other climate related projects. New Jersey utility regulators last fall made a $430 million distribution to ratepayers in the form of two $50 bill credits, with additional $25 a month credits for low-income ratepayers.
The evolution of RGGI — and its use by New Jersey to reduce electricity bills in particular — shows how carbon mitigation programs have had to adapt to political realities.
“In the political context of the moment, I think it’s totally fair,” Burtraw told me of Sherrill’s plan. “It’s the worst good idea of what you can do with the carbon proceeds. Everybody in the room can come up with better ideas: Oh, we should be doing this investment, or we should be doing energy efficiency, or we should subsidize renewables. Show me that those ideas are a higher value use for that money and I’m all in. But we could at least be doing this.”
What remains to be seen is whether other states pick up the torch from Sherrill and start using RGGI as a way to more directly combat electricity price hikes. Her actions “could create ripple effects for other states that may face similar concerns,” Olivia Windorf, U.S. policy fellow at the Center for Climate and Energy Solutions, told me.
While RGGI tends to be in the news in the individual states only when there’s some controversy about entering or exiting the program, “the focus on electricity prices and affordability is putting a new spotlight on it,” Windorf said.
More aggressive or creative uses of the proceeds would put RGGI closer to the center of debates around affordability. “I think it will help address affordability concerns in a way that's really tangible,” Windorf said. “So it’s not abstract how carbon markets and RGGI can help through this time of load growth and energy transition. It can be a tool rather than a burden.”
The Army Corps of Engineers is out to protect “the beauty of the Nation’s natural landscape.”
A new Trump administration policy is indefinitely delaying necessary water permits for solar and wind projects across the country, including those located entirely on private land.
The Army Corps of Engineers published a brief notice to its website in September stating that Adam Telle, the Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works, had directed the agency to consider whether it should weigh a project’s “energy density” – as in the ratio of acres used for a project compared to its power generation capacity – when issuing permits and approvals. The notice ended on a vague note, stating that the Corps would also consider whether the projects “denigrate the aesthetics of America’s natural landscape.”
Prioritizing the amount of energy generation per acre will naturally benefit fossil fuel projects and diminish renewable energy, which requires larger amounts of land to provide the same level of power. The Department of the Interior used this same tactic earlier in the year to delay permits.
Now we know the full extent of the delays wrought by that notice thanks to a copy of the Army Corps’ formal guidance on issuing permits under the Clean Water Act or approvals related to the Rivers and Harbors Act, a 1899 law governing discharges into navigable waters. That guidance was made public for the first time in a lawsuit filed in December by renewable trade associations against Trump’s actions to delay, pause, or deny renewables permits.
The guidance submitted in court by the trade groups states that the Corps will scrutinize the potential energy generation per acre of any permit request from an energy project developer, as well as whether an “alternative energy generation source can deliver the same amount of generation” while making less of an impact on the “aquatic environment.” The Corps is now also prioritizing permit applications for projects “that would generate the most annual potential energy generation per acre over projects with low potential generation per acre.”
Lastly, the Corps will also scrutinize “whether activities related to the projects denigrate the beauty of the Nation’s natural landscape” when deciding whether to issue these permits. That last factor – aesthetics – is in fact a part of the Army Corps’ permitting regulations, but I have not seen any previous administration halt renewable energy permits because officials think solar farms and wind turbines are an eyesore.
Jennifer Neumann, a former career Justice Department attorney who oversaw the agency’s water-related casework with the Army Corps for a decade, told me she had never seen the Corps cite aesthetics in this way. The issue has “never really been litigated,” she said. “I have never seen a situation where the Corps has applied [this].”
The renewable energy industry’s amended complaint in the lawsuit, which is slowly proceeding in federal court, claims the Corps’ guidance will lead to “many costly project redesigns” and delays, “resulting in contract penalties, cost hikes, and deferred revenue.” Other projects “may never get their Corps individual permits and thus will need to be canceled altogether.”
In addition, executives for the trade associations submitted a sworn declaration laying out how they’re being harmed by the Corps guidance, as well as a host of other federal actions against the renewable energy sector. To illustrate those harms they laid out an example: French energy developer ENGIE, they said, was required to “re-engineer” its Empire Prairie wind and solar farm in Missouri because the guidance “effectively precludes” it from getting a permit from the Army Corps. This cost ENGIE millions of dollars, per the declaration, and extended the construction timeline while ultimately also making the project less efficient.
Notably, Empire Prairie is located entirely on private land. It isn’t entirely clear from the declaration why the project had to be redesigned, and there is scant publicly available information about it aside from a basic website. The area where Empire Prairie is being built, however, is tricky for development; segments of the project are located in counties – DeKalb and Andrew – that have 88 and 99 opposition risk scores, respectively, per Heatmap Pro.
Renewable energy developers require these water permits from the Army Corps when their construction zone includes more than half an acre of federally designated wetlands or bodies of water protected under the Rivers and Harbors Act. Neumann told me that developers with impacts of half an acre or less may skirt the need for a permit application if their project qualifies for what’s known as a “nationwide permit,” which only requires verification from the Corps that a company complies with the requirements.
Even the simple verification process for Corps permits has been short-circuited by other actions from the administration. Developers are currently unable to access a crucial database overseen by the Fish and Wildlife Service to determine whether their projects impacts species protected under the Endangered Species Act, which in turn effectively “prevents wind and solar developers from (among other things) obtaining Corps nationwide permits for their projects,” according to the declaration from trade group executives.
But hey, look on the bright side. At least the Trump administration is in the initial phases of trying to pare back federal wetlands protections. So there’s a chance that eliminating federal environmental protections might benefit some solar and wind companies out there. How many? It’s quite unclear given the ever-changing nature of wetlands designations and opaque data available on how many projects are being built within those areas.
Dane County, Wisconsin – The QTS data center project we’ve been tracking closely is now dead, after town staff in the host community of DeForest declared its plans “unfeasible.”
Marathon County, Wisconsin – Elsewhere in Wisconsin, this county just voted to lobby the state’s association of counties to fight for more local control over renewable energy development.
Huntington County, Indiana – Meanwhile in Indiana, we have yet another loud-and-proud county banning data centers.
DeKalb County, Georgia – This populous Atlanta-adjacent county is also on the precipice of a data center moratorium, but is waiting for pending state legislation before making a move.
New York – Multiple localities in the Empire State are yet again clamping down on battery storage. Let’s go over the damage for the battery bros.