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On Wednesday, Heatmap readers gathered in Washington, D.C., to hear Senator John Hickenlooper of Colorado and former chairman of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission Neil Chatterjee discuss the impacts of the election on climate and energy policy. Although the subject matter was serious, the vibes were light — as you can see in the photos below.
The postgame beckons.Steph Schweitzer
Heatmap senior reporter Jael Holzman and Senator Hickenlooper discuss what — if any — climate and energy progress is possible next year.Steph Schweitzer
Jael Holzman and John HickenlooperSteph Schweitzer
Event guestsSteph Schweitzer
Heatmap executive editor Robinson Meyer and former FERC chairman Chatterjee discuss what the Trump administration has in store next year.Steph Schweitzer
Robinson Meyer and Neil ChatterjeeSteph Schweitzer
Michael Jung of Modern Hydrogen explains how climate tech is thinking about the election to Heatmap’s editor in chief and CEO Nico Lauricella.Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
Steph Schweitzer
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Steph Schweitzer
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The Heatmap teamSteph Schweitzer
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The future of U.S. climate policy may depend on things getting dramatic.
Donald Trump does not care much about climate change. By which I mean not just that he does not believe the warming of the planet is a problem, but also that the entire subject is far from the top of his priority list. Unfortunately, that makes his incoming administration even more dangerous.
The implied chaos of the second Trump term is only beginning. In some cases, the operative question is “Is he really going to do that?” Will he actually deport 15 million people, or put a 20% tariff on all imported goods, or prosecute his political opponents?
But when it comes to climate, Trump has offered no attention-grabbing proposals or bizarre promises. He said he wants to “Drill, drill, drill,” but we’re already drilling more than we ever have before. He has a weird obsession with homicidal windmills (“They ruin the environment, they kill the birds, they kill the whales”) and a contempt for electric cars, it’s true. But the real hazard lies in the agenda of those who will run key departments in his government, doing things Trump barely takes notice of.
This may seem counterintuitive to those who view Trump as a uniquely malign force, pushing the federal government in new and disturbing directions. But Trump only cares about a few things — trade and immigration are his primary policy areas of interest, and much of his days will be spent plotting revenge against his enemies — and climate isn’t one of them.
So far, the Trump appointees with influence over climate policy are not the kind of figures who will grab headlines; Americans are unlikely to develop strong opinions about Lee Zeldin (the pick for EPA Administrator) or Doug Burgum (who will be Secretary of the Interior). Below them will be a cadre of unknown and unnoticed officials determined not just to undo every bit of climate progress that occurred under Joe Biden, but also to go much further, purging scientists, stopping environmental enforcement, opening up federal land to fossil fuel production, eliminating pollution regulations, and shutting down every possible office with “climate” in its name or its mission.
So why would it be better if Trump were paying attention? Because the only likely restraint on this assault will be if Trump decides it reflects poorly on him.
That brings us to a crude but useful unified theory of Trump policy outcomes. Expressed as an equation, it would look like this:
Outcome = ((Trump impulses + party agenda) x attention)/political risk
To put it in simpler terms, the relevant questions are: What does Trump want? What do the people around him want? Is this something Trump cares about? And what are the political risks involved?
As an example, let’s take the idea of repealing the Affordable Care Act, which Trump tried and failed to do in his first term. His impulse was to destroy the ACA because it was signed by Barack Obama, whom he hates. His party would also like to destroy the ACA. But Trump himself is not all that interested in the issue of healthcare; he couldn’t be bothered to come up with a plan to replace the ACA, though he regularly promised “something terrific.” Because it’s such a high-profile issue, it won’t move forward without his attention.
Finally — and most importantly — the political risk of repealing the ACA is incredibly high because it is very popular. Repealing it would be cataclysmic for the healthcare system, leading tens of millions of people to lose their health coverage. Put it all together, and the likelihood that Republicans will achieve their longtime goal of ACA repeal is very, very small.
Now let’s plug climate into the equation. Trump’s impulses are uniformly detrimental, but also vague. He told oil executives they should raise him a billion dollars because he’ll give them whatever they want, but if you asked him what specifically it is they want, he probably couldn’t tell you with any specificity.
The Trump officials who will work on environmental issues know exactly what they want — but most of it won’t attract much attention, from the president or the public. When they start gutting PFAS regulations and methane emissions rules, neither Trump nor the average voter will have any idea.
One exception has already been teed up: It now appears that Republicans will try to kill the electric vehicle tax credit. If he wanted to, Elon Musk could stop this: If he told Trump it’s a bad idea, Trump would instruct Republicans in Congress to keep the credit, and it would be most likely be safe. But Musk is of the opinion that while ending the credit might hurt Tesla sales in the short run, his competitors will suffer even more, perhaps getting out of the EV business altogether.
There could be a fight over EV credits when Congress takes up the issue, and it’s even possible that Trump would step in and tell his party to leave them alone if he decided there would be too much of a backlash that would harm him politically. It’s highly unlikely, but the fact that one could at least imagine how it would happen shows how the preferences/attention/political risk dynamic operates.
But to repeat, EV subsidies are the exception of a climate-related policy that will garner some press coverage (though even that may be limited, since the repeal of the tax credits will be part of a gargantuan reconciliation bill with lots of other contentious ideas in it). Most of what happens at the EPA and the Departments of Interior and Energy, where pro-fossil fuel officials will labor every day to undermine environmental protections, will pass by with little notice.
So climate advocates face a difficult task: If they can raise the salience of the climate issue and make a particular Trump administration climate policy unpopular, it would become possible that Trump will notice, perceive some political danger in what his government and Congress are doing, and act to restrain them, for no reason other than his own self-interest.
It’s not much to pin your hopes on, and the idea that Trump himself could be the force of moderation in an administration hell-bent on reversing progress on climate seems crazy. But this is going to be a crazy four years.
Trump 2.0 may sound the death knell for climate tech — not the concept, of course, but the phrase. “Climate tech” became ubiquitous during the Biden era, attached to companies pitching anything vaguely related to either climate change or technology, as well as the specialized and well-resourced venture capital firms created to fund them. It’s even in my job title: climate tech reporter.
I’ve been hearing rumblings around the liabilities of this language for a while, going back well before the election. The big bummer truth is that talking about “climate” is polarizing, and though we may be mostly removed from the days of pure denialism, climate solutions are now being framed as a priority of the elites. “I’ll go anywhere to talk about how the climate agenda is ending the American dream,” the president of the Heritage Foundation and leader of Project 2025, Kevin Roberts, said at this year’s New York Climate Week.
Given that an unfortunately solid percentage of the next administration is likely sympathetic to Roberts’ notions, I was inclined to agree with Tommy Leep, the founder and sole operator of the software-focused “climate tech” venture firm Jetstream, when he posted this a few days after the election.
When I followed up with Leep, he told me, “I actually think it’s still a great time to start a climate startup. Just don’t call it a climate startup.” No matter who is in office, Leep said, he sees the arc of the startup universe bending toward companies with positive climate externalities. But that doesn’t mean we need to categorize them as such. “Call it ‘American dynamism,’ or ‘critical infrastructure,’ or ‘frontier tech,’ or any of these other things.”
Todd Khozein, co-founder and CEO of the startup incubator and investment firm SecondMuse, threw out some additional ideas — “energy efficiency,” “energy independence,” and “resilient cities” could all do the trick. After all, “Who doesn’t want a resilient city? Who doesn’t want to save?” Khozein asked.
And while Trump’s preferred term for his fossil-fuel oriented agenda, “energy dominance,” is a tad aggressive and definitely not something I’d want on my business card, many climate tech companies do play in the realm of “energy security” and “energy resilience” by providing baseload power to stabilize the grid, secure fuel supplies, and wean the U.S. off energy imports (a process that has been ongoing for more than a decade). These could be excellent euphemisms, because even if Trump guts the Department of Energy, he will definitely not do the same to the Department of Defense. DOD funding supports a number of clean technologies, including next generation geothermal, novel battery tech, and sustainable aviation fuel.
“I think that we’ll see a very rapid adaptation of the language of entrepreneurs because their survival is dependent upon it,” Khozein told me. “A lot of these businesses, if you’re not going to get that million dollar grant, if you’re not going to get that [Small Business Innovation Research funding], if you’re not going to get that support from the Department of Energy, then there’s simply no future.”
There’s certainly precedent for this type of alternate framing. This summer I reported on Florida’s climate resilience-focused tech hub, formed shortly after Governor Ron DeSantis deleted the words “climate change” from state law. But Francesca de Quesada Covey, who leads the hub’s development, told me that what resonates most with Floridians is the acknowledgement that their “relationship with water is changing.” And when I was researching the funding landscape for climate adaptation tech, Jay Koh, co-founder of the investment firm The Lightsmith Group, told me that the adaptation companies he’s interested in often “call themselves ‘business continuity’ or ‘water efficiency’ or ‘agricultural precision technologies’ or ‘supply chain management in the face of weather volatility.’”
Since Trump loyalists will be holding the purse strings of coveted government subsidies, grants, and loans, it’s clear why companies would want to rebrand. But Leep told me it’s an open question as to whether VCs such as Jetstream will feel compelled to follow suit. Personally, he’s now most excited to support startups that not only have a positive environmental impact, but are also aligned with the incoming administration’s focus on domestic manufacturing.
As for his website that advertises Jetstream’s focus on “pre-seed climate tech software startups?”
“Give me a couple months,” Leep assured me. “I’m sorting through what that language is.”
A moment of profound uncertainty for many of America’s environmental laws has just become even more uncertain-er. This week, as President-elect Donald Trump considers how to revise or repeal the country’s bedrock climate laws, one of the country’s oldest environmental laws has been thrown into jeopardy.
A three-judge panel on the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled earlier this week that key rules governing the National Environmental Policy Act, which requires the federal government to study the environmental impact of its actions, do not carry the force of law. The ruling might — might — lay the groundwork for a massive revolution in the country’s environmental permitting regime. But for the time being, they guarantee a lot of chaos.
Whenever the federal government wants to build a new piece of infrastructure — and to some degree, whenever it wants to do anything significant— it has to go through NEPA. That sounds great in theory, but NEPA studies — which were originally meant to be just a few pages long — have now swelled in length, running into the thousands of pages and taking years to complete. They have become the subject of criticism from conservatives and some liberals.
That’s because NEPA doesn’t actually require the government to take the most environmentally friendly action. It only mandates that the government study the alternatives and arrive at a decision. Many critics, including progressives, now argue that NEPA has become a great bulwark of the status quo — a way for wealthy NIMBYs to slow down and block virtually any project they don’t like, including the large-scale solar, wind, and transmission projects necessary for the energy transition.
Other progressives argue that NEPA still serves a purpose — that it’s the only way environmental groups can provide a check on factory farms, new federal construction projects, or other big pieces of infrastructure. They say Congress should reform NEPA by affirmatively expanding parts of the permitting regime, adding new requirements to the process. The NEPA process is so time-consuming today not because it has become unwieldy, they say, but because the federal government does not employ enough civil servants to conduct the required studies on time. (NEPA’s critics reply to this, in essence: Sure, but why does NEPA require all those studies in the first place?)
At the heart of the case is a small federal agency called the Council on Environmental Quality. Since its creation in 1970, the Council on Environmental Quality has issued guidelines about how federal agencies should comply with NEPA. These rules have been treated as legally binding — that is, quasi-law on the same tier as federal regulation — since at least 1977.
In the ensuing decades, presidents from both parties have acted under the impression that the Council on Environmental Quality’s NEPA rules are binding. That’s why the first Trump administration went through the hassle of rewriting the council’s rules, subjecting them to the same notice-and-comment process other federal regulations must go through before they can be changed. The Biden administration later replaced the Trump administration’s rules with its own version.
But that actually isn’t the case, the judges ruled. The Council on Environmental Quality was never allowed to issue binding regulations about NEPA in the first place, they decided.
The Council on Environmental Quality can issue guidelines about how agencies should follow NEPA, the judges said. But these will have the same legal authority as executive orders, which can guide agency decisionmaking but provide no outside legal recourse. Executive orders are sort of like internal corporate policies for the government: They’re supposed to be followed by employees, but nobody can appeal to a court that a company got them wrong. What the council cannot do, the court said, is issue rules, quasi-laws that outside groups can appeal to and claim aren’t being obeyed in court.
If upheld, the ruling would throw virtually the entire body of law around NEPA into question — hundreds of cases, thousands of pages of rules, and hundreds of thousands of analyses all premised on the idea that the Center on Environmental Quality is the final NEPA arbiter. It could also vastly weaken NEPA, allowing the government to build projects quickly while giving Americans and nonprofit groups little recourse to stop them.
“It’s a very big deal,” James Coleman, an energy law professor at the University of Minnesota, told me. “NEPA by itself is a very limited piece of text. When it was adopted, no one imagined that it would lead to this comprehensive permitting system where it would take five years to get a permit.”
Over time, court cases and White House regulations have turned NEPA into the juggernaut that it is today. But now that’s exactly what is up in the air — potentially. “If a judge thinks that the decades of cases we’ve had are misconceived, then they don’t have to follow it any more,” Coleman said.
What’s odd about the case is that neither side intended to get this ruling in the first place. Neither the Federal Aviation Administration nor the Marin Audubon Society, a San Francisco-area birding group, set out to strike down the entire body of NEPA regulations. The FAA had relied on the Council on Environmental Quality’s rules when it approved a plan for tourism flights over national parks, saying that the regulations didn’t require it to conduct a NEPA study. The Marin Audubon Society argued that the air tours didn’t fall under an exemption created by the rules.
Two Republican-appointed judges on the panel then essentially took the case into their own hands, using the dispute as an opportunity to throw modern NEPA procedure into question. In fact, they said, the Council on Environmental Quality never had the authority to issue rules in the first place — so the claimed exemption didn’t matter. (Judge Sri Srinivasan, who dissented from part of the ruling, criticized the judges for opening such big legal questions when they didn’t need to do so.)
The outcome doesn’t mean that the federal government will immediately move faster to approve infrastructure projects — in some cases, it might move slower. As part of its rules, the Council on Environmental Quality has approved a list of “categorical exclusions,” federal actions that do not require a NEPA review. These can include activities like holding a small meeting or taking out a federal farm loan. The judges have now rejected the council’s ability to create categorical exclusions altogether,meaning that many more federal actions may — at least at first — be subject to NEPA oversight. (Congress has also told agencies to create some categorical exclusions — including for oil and gas drilling — and those are not affected by the case.)
For that reason, some environmental lawyers are doubtful that the argument will change NEPA in the way its opponents hope. “What the ruling does is deeply complicate things for both sides,” Sam Sankhar, the senior vice president at Earthjustice, an environmental legal group, told me. “The NEPA regulations are a body of law that has developed over years to guide the way that people do the NEPA process. The absence of those regulations does not mean the absence of NEPA — it means the absence of any guidelines about how to implement NEPA in the future.”
If the NEPA regulations get tossed out, he said, then it will “really be up to each individual judge to wing it” when interpreting the law, he added.
Nicholas Bagley, a University of Michigan law professor who has written critically about NEPA and other liberal laws that focus on procedure, tends to agree with that view. “When you go to court, agencies and challengers both would look at these regulations as a sword or a shield,” he said. Challengers used the White House rules as a weapon, asserting that the government needed to look at some question but failed to do so. But the federal government used those same rules “as a shield,” he said, showing that it faithfully followed the rules, and therefore that judges didn’t need to get involved.
If the rules are gone, then each side has lost a tool — and judges will have much more power. That means federal agencies, which are hesitant to run afoul of the courts, may now become even more timid in their decision-making, Bagley said. What’s more, the White House’s regulations would still act as executive orders, binding agency action. “They just won’t be enforceable in court,” he said. (The Trump administration could also respond by chucking out the White House regulations altogether, he said.)
It’s unclear what happens next. If the FAA appeals, the D.C. Circuit could choose to hear the case again en banc, meaning the full panel of judges — a majority of whom were appointed by Democrats — would consider the questions. But eventually a higher court may weigh in. “I would not be surprised at all to find this eventually find its way to the Supreme Court,” Coleman told me. In the past, the Supreme Court has ruled that the Council on Environmental Quality’s regulations carry the force of law. But the new, arch-conservative court — and the incoming Trump administration — might push for a different approach.