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What the Council on Foreign Relations’ new climate program gets drastically wrong.

Let’s start with two basic facts.
First, the climate crisis is here now, killing people, devastating communities, and destroying infrastructure in Los Angeles and Asheville and Spain and Pakistan and China. And it will get worse.
Second, Donald Trump is the President of the United States. He began the process to withdraw the United States from the Paris Agreement on January 20, 2025, his first day in office in his second term. (He, of course, did this in his first term as well.) He illegally froze funding for climate programs that had passed and became law during the Biden administration, and his administration continues to ignore court orders to unfreeze these monies. He has signed numerous executive orders, including on reinvigorating clean [sic] coal, reversing state-level climate policies, “Zero-based regulatory budgeting to unleash American energy,” and “unleashing” American energy, the last of which revoked more than a dozen Biden era executive orders.
How do we address a world that is increasingly shaped by these two facts?
One attempt can be seen in the Council on Foreign Relations’s new “Climate Realism Initiative.” Its statement of purpose attempts to make climate action palatable to MAGA world by securitizing it, framing climate change as a foreign threat to Fortress America. It calls for investing in next-generation technologies and geoengineering in the hopes of leapfrogging the Chinese-led clean energy revolution that is beginning to decarbonize the world today is the best realistic way forward.
This attempt is doomed to failure. Real climate realism for the United States is to stop the destruction of American state capacity, and then to reflect and build on areas of core strength including finance and software.
CRI’s launch document does not call for the U.S. to reduce its own emissions. I’ll say that again: There is no call for the U.S. to reduce its own emissions in the essay establishing the mission and objectives of the Climate Realism Initiative. Written by Varun Sivaram, formerly chief strategy and innovation officer at wind energy developer Orsted and now the leader of the initiative, the essay proposes that four dug-in “fallacies” are getting in the way of effective policy-making: that climate change “poses a manageable risk” to the U.S.; that “the world’s climate targets are achievable;” that the clean energy transition is a “win-in for U.S. interests and climate action;” and that “reducing U.S. domestic greenhouse gas emissions can make a meaningful difference.” For Sivaram, the problem is always other places and their emissions.
He then goes on to propose three “pillars” of climate realism: the need for America to prepare for a world “blowing through climate targets;” to “invest in globally competitive clean technology industries;” and to “lead international efforts to avert truly catastrophic climate change.” How an America that does not commit to reduce its own emissions will have any credibility or standing to lead international efforts is left unstated.
Sivaram attempts to trick the reader into overlooking America’s emissions by ignoring the facts of the past and focusing instead on guesses about the future. It’s true that in 2023, China produced more than a quarter of new global carbon pollution — more than the United States, Europe, and India combined. But no country has contributed more to the blanket of pollution that traps additional heat in our atmosphere than the United States, which has emitted over 430 billion tons of CO2, or 23% of the world’s total historical emissions. Even in 2023, the U.S. remained the world’s number two carbon polluter.
Sivaram goes further than merely minimizing the U.S. role in creating our current climate problems. Indeed, he sets up climate change as a problem that foreign countries are imposing on Americans. “Foreign emissions,” he writes, “are endangering the American homeland,” and the effects of climate disasters “resemble those if China or Indonesia were to launch missiles at the United States.” There is something to this rhetoric that is powerful — we should think about climate-induced disasters as serious threats and respond to them with the kind of resources that we lavish on the military industrial complex. But the idea that it is foreign emissions that are the primary source of this danger is almost Trumpian.
The initiatives proposed in the Climate Realism launch are the initiatives of giving up. Investing in resilience and adaptation is needed in any scenario, but tying this spending on adaptation to Trumpian notions of protecting our borders reeks of discredited lifeboat ethics, which only cares to save ourselves and leaves others to suffer for our sins. And while supporting next-generation technologies is an appropriate piece of the policy puzzle, they should be like the broccoli at a steakhouse: off to the side and mostly superfluous compared with the meat and potatoes of deployment and mitigation to decarbonize today.
Sivaram may argue that there’s no point in trying to compete against China in the technologies of today when Chinese firms are so dominant and apparently willing to make these products while earning minimal profits. And from a parochial profit-maximizing perspective, there is a business case that firms should not be building lots of new solar cell manufacturing facilities given global manufacturing capacity.
But if American automotive firms simply ignore the coming EV wave and hope against hope that some breakthrough in solid state batteries will allow them to leapfrog over the firms vying today, they are fooling themselves. Electric vehicle giant BYD and world-leading battery manufacturer CATL have both announced batteries that can charge a car in five minutes. Both are also moving in the solid state space, and CATL is pushing into sodium ion batteries.
The notion that U.S. firms ought to sit out this fight for strategic reasons also ignores how China has come to dominate these sectors — by investing in today’s state of the art and pushing it forward through incremental process improvements at scale. The Thielian notion that “competition is for losers” leads to an immense amount of waste as wannabe founders search for unbreakable technological advantages. If venture capitalists want to fund such bets, I’m not going to stop them. But as a policy prescription for climate realism, it fails.
The final gambit of the essay is to advocate for America-controlled geoengineering. This, too, is an area where research may be needed. But regardless, it is the kind of emergency backup plan that you hope that you never need to use, rather than something that should be central to anyone’s policy strategy. Trump is currently decimating American capacity to research hard problems, whether they be cancer or vaccines or social science or anything else, so it is difficult to imagine that this administration is likely to spend real resources to investigate geoengineering.
The Climate Realism Initiative pitches itself as “bipartisan.” But where is the MAGA coalition that supports this? Even simple spending on adaptation and resilience seems unlikely to find much of a political home given the Trump administration’s drastic cuts in weather and disaster forecasting. Sivaram even mentions the need to balance the budget as part of climate realism, which must be a sick joke. For all of the fanfare over cuts to the federal government under Trump, the budget deficit is the last thing that they care about. Tax cuts remain the coin of the realm, with the House budgetary guidelines expanding the deficit by $2.8 trillion. Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency, similarly, has a distorted notion of government efficiency, ignoring the returns to government investments and gutting the tax collection capacity of the IRS.
The Biden administration had plans — “all of the above” energy among them — that were coherent, if not necessarily the most appealing to the world. They were based on the idea that a resilient climate coalition in the U.S. required more than just deploying Chinese-made products.
CRI seems to want to engage instead in a fantasy conversation where anti-Chinese nationalism can unite Americans to fight climate change — an all-form, no-content negative sum realpolitik that does little to address the real, compelling, and deeply political questions that the climate crisis poses.
Alternative visions are possible. The American economy is services based. Americans and American firms will inevitably make some of the hardware components of the energy transition, but the opportunities that play to our strengths are mostly on the software side.
It is critical to remember that the clean technologies that power the energy transition are categorically different from the fossil fuels that the world burned (and still burns) for energy. We do not require a constant stream of these technologies to operate our economy. The solar panels on your roof or in the field outside of town still generate electricity even if you can’t buy new ones because of a trade war. Same with wind turbines. In fact, renewables are a source of energy security because the generation happens from domestic natural resources — the sun and wind. Yet smart thinkers like Jake Sullivan fall into the trap of treating “dependence” on Chinese renewable technologies as analogous to European dependence on Russian natural gas.
Even China’s ban on U.S.-bound rare earth exports won’t make much of a dent. Despite the name, rare earths aren’t that rare, and while China does dominate their processing, it’s a tiny industry; in making fun of the “critical” nature of rare earths, Bloomberg opinion writer Javier Blas noted that the total imports of rare earths from China to the U.S. in 2024 was $170 million, or about 0.03% of U.S.-China trade. That being said, the major concern is if supplies fall to zero then major processes that require tiny amounts of rare earths (like Yttria and turbine construction) could be completely halted with serious fallout.
The American government should carefully choose what industries it would like to support. Commodity factories that have little-to-no profits, like solar cells, seem unattractive. There are many more jobs in installing solar than there are in manufacturing it, after all.
On the other hand, sectors with a much larger existing domestic industry, such as wind turbines and especially automobiles, should not be left to wither. But rather than a tariff wall to protect them, the U.S. auto firms should be encouraged to partner with the leading firms — even if those firms are Chinese — to build joint ventures in the American heartland, so that they and the American people can participate in the EV shift.
But the core of real climate realism for the United States is not about new factories. It’s about playing to our strengths. The United States has the best finance and technology sectors in the world, and these should be used to help decarbonize at home and around the world. This climate realism agenda can come in left- and right-wing flavors. A leftist vision is likely state-led with designs, guides, and plans, while the right-wing vision relies on markets.
Take Texas. On May 7, 2020, the Texas grid set a record with 21.4 gigawatts of renewable electricity generation. Just five years later, that figure hit 41.9 gigawatts. Solar and batteries have exploded on the grid, with capacity hitting 30 gigawatts and 10 gigawatts respectively. They have grown so rapidly because of the state’s market-based system, with its low barriers to interconnection and competitive dynamics.
Of course, not every location is blessed with as much wind, sun, and open space as Texas. But there’s no reason why its market systems can’t be a template for other states and countries. This, too, is industrial policy — not just the factory workers building the technologies or even the installers deploying them. There is lots of work for the lawyers and power systems engineers and advertisers and policy analysts and bankers and consultants, as well.
Yet instead of seizing these real chances to push climate action forward at home and abroad, the Trump administration is eviscerating American state capacity, the rule of law, and global trust in the government. The whipsawing of Trump’s tariffs generates uncertainty that undercuts investment. The destruction of government support for scientific exploration hits at the next-generation moonshots that Sivaram is so enamored of, as well as the institutions that educate our citizens and train our workforce. Trump’s blatant disregard for court orders and his regime’s cronyism undercut belief in the rule of law, and that investments will rise and fall based on their economics rather than how close they are to the President.
But it’s not just Trump. Texas legislators are on the verge of destroying the golden goose of cheap electricity through rapid renewables deployment out of a desire to own the libs. Despite the huge economic returns to rural communities that have seen so much utility-scale expansion in the state, some Republican legislators are pushing bills that would stick their fingers into the electricity market pie, undercutting the renewable expansion and mandating expensive gas expansion.
The Trump business coalition, which was mostly vibes in the first place, is fracturing. There are conflicting interests between those who want to fight inflation and those who see low oil prices as a problem. Pushing down oil prices by pressuring OPEC+ to pump more crude and depressing global economic outlooks with the trade war (Degrowth Donald!) has hurt the frackers in Texas. Ironically, one way to lower their costs is to electrify operations, so they don’t have to rely on expensive diesel.
Climate change is here, but so is Donald Trump. Ignoring either one is a recipe for disaster as they both create destructive whirlwinds and traffic in uncertainty. The real solution to both is mitigation — doing everything possible today to stop as much of the damage as possible before it happens.
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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.
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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.