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Harmonizing data across federal agencies will go a long, long way toward simplifying environmental reviews.

Comprehensive permitting reform remains elusive.
In spite of numerous promising attempts — the Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023, for instance, which delivered only limited improvements, and the failed Manchin-Barrasso bill of last year — the U.S. has repeatedly failed to overhaul its clogged federal infrastructure approval process. Even now there are draft bills and agreements in principle, but the Trump administration’s animus towards renewable energy has undermined Democratic faith in any deal. Less obvious but no less important, key Republicans are quietly disengaged, hesitant to embrace the federal transmission reform that negotiators see as essential to the package.
Despite this grim prognosis, Congress could still improve implementation of a key permitting barrier, the National Environmental Policy Act, by fixing the federal government’s broken systems for managing and sharing NEPA documentation and data. These opaque and incompatible systems frustrate essential interagency coordination, contributing immeasurably to NEPA’s delays and frustrations. But it’s a problem with clear, available, workable solutions — and at low political cost.
Both of us saw these problems firsthand. Marc helped manage NEPA implementation at the Environmental Protection Agency, observing the federal government’s slow and often flailing attempts to use technology to improve internal agency processes. Elizabeth, meanwhile, spent two years overcoming NEPA’s atomized data ecosystem to create a comprehensive picture of NEPA litigation.
Even so, it’s difficult to illustrate the scope of the problem without experiencing it. Some agencies have bespoke systems to house crucial and unique geographic information on project areas. Other agencies lack ready access to that information, even as they examine project impacts another agency may have already studied. Similarly, there is no central database of scientific studies undertaken in support of environmental reviews. Some agencies maintain repositories for their environmental assessments — arduous but less intense environmental reviews than the environmental impact statements NEPA requires when a federal agency action substantially impacts the environment. But there’s still no unified, cross-agency EA database. This leaves agencies unable to efficiently find and leverage work that could inform their own reviews. Indeed, agencies may be duplicating or re-duplicating tedious, time-consuming efforts.
NEPA implementation also relies on interagency cooperation. There, too, agencies’ divergent ways of classifying and communicating about project data throws up impediments. Agencies rely on arcane data formats and often incompatible platforms. (For the tech-savvy, an agency might have a PDF-only repository while another has XML-based data formats.) With few exceptions, it’s difficult for cooperating agencies to even know the status of a given review. And it produces a comedy of errors for agencies trying to recruit and develop younger, tech-savvy staff. Your workplace might use something like Asana or Trello to guide your workflow, a common language all teams use to communicate. The federal government has a bureaucratic Tower of Babel.
Yet another problem, symptomatic of inadequate transparency, is that we have only limited data on the thousands of NEPA court cases. To close the gap, we sought to understand — using data — just how sprawling and unwieldy post-review NEPA litigation had become. We read every available district and appellate opinion that mentioned NEPA from 2013 to 2022 (over 2,000 cases), screened out those without substantive NEPA claims, and catalogued their key characteristics — plaintiffs, court timelines and outcomes, agencies, project types, and so on. Before we did this work, no national NEPA litigation database provided policymakers with actionable, data-driven insights into court outcomes for America’s most-litigated environmental statute. But even our painstaking efforts couldn’t unearth a full dataset that included, for example, decisions taken by administrative judges within agencies.
We can’t manage what we can’t measure. And every study in this space, including ours, struggles with this type of sample bias. Litigated opinions are neither random nor representative; they skew toward high-stakes disputes with uncertain outcomes and underrepresent cases that settle on clear agency error or are dismissed early for weak claims. Our database illuminates litigation patterns and timelines. But like the rest of the literature, it cannot offer firm conclusions about NEPA’s effectiveness. We need a more reliable universe of all NEPA reviews to have any chance — even a flawed one — at assessing the law’s outcomes.
In the meantime, NEPA policy debates often revolve unproductively around assumptions and anecdotes. For example, Democrats can point to instances when early and robust public engagement appeared essential for bringing projects to completion. But in the absence of hard data to support this view, GOP reformers often prefer to limit public participation in the name of speeding the review process. The rebuttal to that approach is persuasive: Failing to engage potential project opponents on their legitimate concerns merely drives them to interfere with the project outside the NEPA process. Yet this rebuttal relies on assumptions, not evidence. Only transparent data can resolve the dispute.
Some of the necessary repair work is already underway at the Council on Environmental Quality, the White House entity that coordinates and guides agencies’ NEPA implementation. In May, CEQ published a “NEPA and Permitting Data and Technology Standard” so that agencies could voluntarily align on how to communicate NEPA information with each other. Then in June, after years using a lumbering Excel file containing agencies’ categorical exclusions — the types of projects that don’t need NEPA review, as determined by law or regulation — CEQ unveiled a searchable database called the Categorical Exclusion Explorer. The Pacific Northwest National Laboratory’s PermitAI has leveraged the EPA’s repository of environmental impact statements and, more recently, environmental review documents from other agencies to create an AI-powered queryable database. The FAST-41 Dashboard has brought transparency and accountability to a limited number of EISs.
But across all these efforts, huge gaps in data, resources, and enforcement authority remain. President Trump has issued directives to agencies to speed environmental reviews, evincing an interest in filling the gaps. But those directives don’t and can’t compel the full scope of necessary technological changes.
Some members of Congress are tuned in and trying to do something about this. Representatives Scott Peters, a Democrat from California, and Dusty Johnson, Republican of South Dakota, deserve credit for introducing the bipartisan ePermit Act to address all of these challenges. They’ve identified key levers to improve interagency communication, track litigation, and create a common and publicly accessible storehouse of NEPA data. Crucially, they recognize the make-or-break role of agency Chief Information Officers who are accountable for information security. Our own attempts to upgrade agency technology taught us that the best way to do so is by working with — not around — CIOs who have a statutory mandate.
The ePermit Act would also lay the groundwork for more extensive and innovative deployment of artificial intelligence in NEPA processes. Despite AI’s continuing challenges around information accuracy and traceability, large language models may eventually be able to draft the majority of an EIS on their own, with humans involved to oversee.
AI can also address hidden pain points in the NEPA process. It can hasten the laborious summarization and incorporation of public comment, reducing the legal and practical risk that agencies miss crucial public feedback. It can also help determine whether sponsor applications are complete, frequently a point of friction between sponsors and agencies. AI can also assess whether projects could be adapted to a categorical exclusion, entirely removing unnecessary reviews. And finally, AI tools are a concession to the rapid turnover of NEPA personnel and depleted institutional knowledge — an acute problem of late.
Comprehensive, multi-agency legislation like the ePermit Act will take time to implement — Congress may want or even need to reform NEPA before we get the full benefit of technology improvements. But that does not diminish the urgency or value of this effort. Even Representative Jared Huffman of California, a key Democrat on the House Natural Resources Committee with impeccable environmental credentials, offered words of support for the ePermit Act, while opposing other NEPA reforms.
Regardless of what NEPA looks like in coming years, this work must begin at some point. Under every flavor of NEPA reform, agencies will need to share data, coordinate across platforms, and process information. That remains true even as court-driven legal reforms and Trump administration regulatory changes wreak havoc with NEPA’s substance and implementation. Indeed, whether or not courts, Congress, or the administration reduce NEPA’s reach, even truncated reviews would still be handicapped by broken systems. Fixing the technology infrastructure now is a way to future-proof NEPA.
The solution won’t be as simple as getting agencies to use Microsoft products. It’s long past time to give agencies the tools they need — an interoperable, government-wide platform for NEPA data and project management, supported by large language models. This is no simple task. To reap the full benefits of these solutions will require an act of Congress that both provides funding for multi-agency software and requires all agencies to act in concert. This mandate is necessary to induce movement from actors within agencies who are slow to respond to non-binding CEQ directives that take time away from statutorily required work, or those who resist discretionary changes to agency software as cybersecurity risks, no matter how benign those changes may be. Without appropriated money or congressional edict, the government’s efforts in this area will lack the resources and enforcement levers to ensure reforms take hold.
Technology improvements won’t cure everything that ails NEPA. This bill won’t fix the deep uncertainty unleashed by the legal chaos of the last year. But addressing these issues is a no-regrets move with bipartisan and potentially even White House support. Let it be done.
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A small but growing share of counties are targeting data centers, solar farms, and battery storage systems at the same time.
I’ve got an update for you on the data center backlash — and what it could mean for the governor’s race in Wisconsin, one of the country’s most important state-level battles in the upcoming midterms.
Last week, I wrote about how the Republican congressman and Wisconsin gubernatorial candidate Tom Tiffany was trying to turn the data center issue into a kind of trojan horse for slowing down renewables. Tiffany claimed to be anti-data-center, but he was really looking to apply new and stricter rules to clean energy development, as well.
Over the weekend, Tiffany said the quiet part loud. “David Crowley wants to cover our farmland with industrial-scale wind, solar, and data centers,” he posted on X. (He also started calling his opponent “Data Center David Crowley.”) Tiffany vowed to “protect Wisconsin farmland,” picking up on the idea — already used by the Trump administration to stymie solar development — that renewables threaten the integrity of agricultural land.
Now Crowley isn’t nearly as pro-data-center as Tiffany claims, although he has said the computing facilities should run on 100% clean energy. Yet Tiffany's accusation made me curious: How many local governments now see data centers and renewables as a package deal — and a farmland-threatening incursion that should be blocked? Back in March, my colleague Jael Holzman has covered how data centers are turning Americans against renewables. Are we seeing that on the ground?
Our market intelligence service Heatmap Pro tracks local laws affecting clean energy, batteries, and data centers. I asked the Pro team to look at how many local governments have now banned all three types of infrastructure — communities with what you might call a “none of the above” policy.
There’s mostly good news in the results for renewables advocates. The number of towns and counties that have blocked data centers, solar, and batteries remains small. As of late last week, 21 counties across the country have an active restriction or moratorium on solar, batteries, and data centers combined.
Another 10 counties have banned either data centers and solar, or data centers and batteries, but not all three. Six cities or municipalities have placed combined restrictions on the technologies nationwide.
The bad news: The number is growing fast. Most of these “none-of-the-above” restrictions were passed in 2026, and the overwhelming majority are in the rural Midwest and Great Plains. Kansas, Iowa, and Indiana account for most of the moratoriums or restrictive laws.
Not all of the restrictions are new. Although most of these multi-technology restrictions get passed at the same time, a handful of counties blocked solar and batteries first, then tacked on data centers later. Dickinson County, Kansas, for instance, has long blocked solar and batteries. But this spring, as the data center boom came along, the county’s leaders extended that moratorium to apply to data centers and all forms of energy development — including natural gas.
Overall, the scale of the trend remains small. Less than 10% of data center restrictions nationwide also target clean energy. That’s good news for renewable developers because the number of data center ordinances is surging. More than 530 data center restrictions are now on the books nationwide, and most restrictions have come in the past 12 months.
And what about the Wisconsin election? As of right now, only one county in America’s Dairyland has restricted data centers and batteries together. None have restricted solar, wind, and batteries. But Tiffany does seem to be tapping into a much larger zeitgeist. When you look at the stated reasons why communities nationwide are adopting these policies, farmland protection ranks high on the list. When it comes to permitting politics, in other words, farmland looks like the next frontier.
There are lots of reasons why that might seem like a good idea, but I urge you to learn from my mistakes.
All I wanted was to drive an electric car to the solar eclipse. But after the third consecutive charging port RFID reader wouldn’t accept my credit card and finding that the employees inside the attached Spanish hotel restaurant mostly didn’t speak English, I began to feel as though, just maybe, this hadn’t been my best idea.
Opting for an EV as a rental car can be an attractive proposition. For a longtime electric driver like me, it’s the opportunity to avoid car emissions even when on holiday, and to try out the experience in another country. For others, it could be a way to save money while on vacation in countries with even more expensive gasoline than America’s, or perhaps to try out electric driving before taking the plunge on buying an EV back home.
My advice, though? Don’t — at least not yet. The reason is that road-tripping on vacation is not only different from the driving you do back home, it’s also the worst kind for using an EV, especially for a newbie. The experience might lead you to believe, incorrectly, that the EV experience is just like this.
I admit, I had high hopes. Europe as a whole is far ahead of the United States in EV adoption, and its denser built environment means fewer long, open expanses between the kinds of cities that would have charging stations. Spain isn’t nearly as far along with EVs as the Scandinavian or the low countries, where electric cars are already a majority of cars on the road, or nearly there. But it is ahead of the U.S. So I figured driving around the country to see the total solar eclipse in a Peugeot E-5008 electric SUV would be a manageable task.
The first problem is time. Here in California, I’ve come to terms with the fact that driving long distances in an EV adds minutes. There’s simply no way to replicate the five-minute pump-and-go gas station stop, but when it comes to dealing with the slog of freeway travel from L.A. to the Bay Area, for example, I’ve come to enjoy taking a longer charging stop to breathe as opposed to making the best possible time on a car trip. On vacation, though, there’s no time to lose.
And it’s not just charging itself that takes time. Unless you rent a Tesla and enjoy the seamless experience of its Superchargers, you’re stuck with the same annoyances that have vexed so many EV early adopters in the U.S.: busted chargers, hit-or-miss credit card readers, and juggling a variety of phone apps to interact with all the various brands of charging stations one might encounter. It’s also, frankly, just mentally taxing to think about all this in a new country and a new car, the very opposite of what most people seek on holiday.
Driving abroad intensifies these grievances. In just five days of driving around Spain, I racked up five new phone apps dedicated to charging the car on different networks. (Electromaps! Movilidad! PowerGo! EnelEnergy! Zunder!). Sometimes this was out of desperation: I parked, plugged, and scanned multiple credit cards that the machine would not accept, finding pay-by-phone to be the only way to activate the machine. Of course, signing up for a new app is a 10-minute process that involves typing in endless fields of personal information just to add a few kilowatt-hours to one’s car battery. Not great when you’re already running behind, and doubly problematic if you had no or little cell service abroad and couldn’t download the necessary app at that moment. (Death to walled-off apps.)
Those chargers that did work typically ran far below their stated capacity, in the range of 70 kilowatts to 90 kilowatts of charging speed as opposed to the 180 kilowatts or 350 kilowatts they were rated to deliver. And when plugs are scarce, you have to take what you can get in terms of speed and amenities. I was overjoyed to find one that worked without much hassle in Basque Country — even though I had to ask one of the gas station employees to move her Volkswagen Passat that was ICEing a charger, and encountered an industrial stench from nearby petroleum production so strong I nearly vomited when I got out of the car.
The EV culture can be different, too. I’d hoped to charge at the plugs located in the parking garage of my hotel in Bilbao, Spain, but arrived home too late after eclipse traveling and found the lot full and locked. The nearby underground structure had plenty of charging spaces, but those were bring-your-own-cable chargers — something common in Europe that’s only now coming to the United States.
Despite the difficulties, the trip went off. We saw the spiritual experience of the eclipse through the cloudless skies of Burgos; we traveled around northern Spain without once having to buy gasoline at European prices. And while an inconvenient experience like this might be enough to dissuade someone from ever taking a chance on EVs again, it shouldn’t.
There’s a dichotomy in the electric car experience I’ve talked about ad nauseum. As detractors say, taking long road trips can be kind of annoying, and those annoyances run deeper in unfamiliar territory. But most of us don’t drive like we’re on vacation most of the time. We do our driving close to home, where electric cars are a better and more convenient experience if you can do much of your charging at home or work. Public charging still takes time. But in your own city and state, you already know the nearby ones you like and have all the necessary apps downloaded and filled out.
A more seamless time is coming, when charging stations are abundant everywhere and a simple, idiot-proof interface for plugging in is the standard. Until then, you’ll probably have a more relaxing vacation burning fossil fuels. Just don’t let that stop you from buying an EV.
Current conditions: Tropical Storm Moke sideswiped Hawaii yesterday just weeks after a weakened Hurricane Lala became the first major storm to hit the Big Island in decades • On the western fringe of the United States’ Pacific borders, Typhoon Saudel struck Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands over the weekend, bringing heavy rain and flooding • Temperatures in Khorramshahr, on Iran’s border with Iraq, are topping 118 degrees Fahrenheit, rendering the southwestern port city the hottest place on Earth.
With water levels in reservoirs across the American West at record lows, the Trump administration has directed Arizona, California, and Nevada to cut back on how much water they use from the Colorado River over the next two years. On Friday, the Department of the Interior imposed the reductions via a series of documents detailing a two-year and a 10-year plan to salvage the supplies from the drought-stricken river fed by snowmelt from Colorado’s stretch of the Rocky Mountains. As climate change has shifted snow patterns, levels on the river have dropped. Yet the seven states that depend on the water — the aforementioned three in the Lower Basin, and Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming in the Upper Basin — could not come to agreement among themselves on how to divvy up the dwindling supply. Instead, the Interior Department came up with a proposal that forced the Lower Basin states to pare back first. As you may recall, Arizona’s Democratic governor called the cuts “draconian” when the administration released its proposal in early August. The plan, which imposes short-term cuts while leaving a larger split for later, sets the stage for what E&E News predicted would be “a behemoth legal fight.”
When the Department of Energy announced a review last year of droves of grants the Biden administration had given for clean industrial projects, the nation’s leading green steel project appeared on the chopping block. Cleveland-Cliffs, the steel giant based in Vice President JD Vance’s hometown in Ohio, said it was renegotiating the $500 million grant that was supposed to fund construction of a modern, integrated mill that could increase U.S. steel production and allow the country to compete with China in selling lower-carbon material to Europe. More than a year later, the deal has finally been renegotiated. As expected, the money will now go instead toward upgrading a coal-fired blast furnace at the Middletown Works plant, Canary Media reported on Friday. Never mind the fact that Congress promulgated the money specifically for lower-carbon steel, making the shift “possibly illegal,” as my colleague Emily Pontecorvo reported last year.
Congestion costs on PJM Interconnection skyrocketed 43% to $6 billion during the first half of this year, up from $2.1 billion during the same period of 2025. That’s according to the grid’s independent watchdog, which last week warned that bottlenecks on high-voltage transmission lines during high-stress events such as storms or heat waves were now what Reuters put bluntly as “the single biggest driver of the increase in soaring wholesale electricity costs.” Across the U.S., July’s electricity bills were, in the frank words of Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin, “higher than ever.”
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Last week, the uranium miner Ur-Energy sent the first shipment from its mine in Wyoming, World Nuclear News reported Friday. That same day, the American subsidiary of the European uranium giant Urenco broke ground on its latest facility in the U.S., NucNet reported. Downstream, meanwhile, Standard Nuclear — a fuel manufacturer specializing in extra-expensive but extra-safe ceramic-coated fuel pellets called TRISO, which I have written about previously— just cut another deal with a major vendor.
I have a confession. Nearly a decade ago, I sat at my sister’s kitchen counter in Massachusetts after she gave birth to my niece, trying to write about the latest technology to come out from Tesla. Not yet burdened by its billionaire chief executive’s political baggage, the company was largely seen at the time as subverting preconceptions about the popularity of electric vehicles. Tesla’s erstwhile absorption of Musk’s former solar manufacturer, Solar City, only cemented the company’s status as an industry leader in producing and deploying panels domestically. The conventional wisdom, at least among some industry analysts at the time, was that any bet against Tesla was an ill-advised gamble against the lucky Mr. Musk. So, I wrote about it as a breakthrough. But the solar-generating roof tiles the company unveiled that fall when I was in New England turned out to be little more than a passing fantasy. Now Electrek has reported that the company plans to discontinue the product.

Say what you will about Spain’s solar records or America’s gas surge, nothing quite matches the enormous surge of power that is a new hydroelectric station. This week, Tanzania christened its largest-ever hydroelectric station, the Julius Nyerere Hydropower Dam, named for the country’s revolutionary first prime minister after independence. Mwananchi, the country’s largest newspaper, said the plant’s launch “opened a new chapter in Tanzania’s energy sector.”