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Hell is shopping for eco poop bags.

As much as I’m aware that blaming the climate crisis on individual consumer choices is a favorite smokescreen of large corporations and fossil fuel companies, it still totally kills me to buy single-use plastic bags. So when my household recently ran out of the 900 black disposable litter bags we’d bought on Wirecutter’s recommendation eons ago, I decided to be a Good Person and replace them with the most environmentally friendly option I could find. I mean, how hard could it be?
Hoo boy.
What started out as a naïve quest to find the greenest pet waste receptacle has become my Joker origin story. It’s turned me into Mark Ruffalo in Dark Water, except instead of taking on Dupont, I’m hounding companies with names like The Original Poop Bag and Doggy Do Good for the chemical makeup of their “green” bags. I’ve been red-pilled on advanced recycling. And, worst of all, I still haven’t actually bought a replacement — because the entire “green,” “biodegradable,” “plant-based,” “compostable” pet waste bag industry is built on misdirections, half-truths, and outright lies.
This might seem like a ridiculous thing to have spent my time obsessing over (and I don’t entirely disagree with you). But the greenwashing and obfuscation around these bags is part of a bigger story. Plastics are the fossil fuel industry’s last stand. The renewable energy transition, albeit in fits and starts, is here. Seeing the writing on the wall, companies like ExxonMobil, Shell, and Saudi Aramco are heavily investing in petrochemicals, which are used to make plastic and are expected to make up half of oil demand growth between now and 2050, according to the International Energy Agency (IEA). As Armco president and CEO Amin Nasser has reassured his cohorts, oil demand from petrochemicals is expected to remain high “no matter which energy transition scenario plays out.”
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
This story starts with much cuter villains: my cats.
Meet the adorable antiheroes of this story, Marinka and Virginia:

These two cutie pies don’t know it, but they diligently contribute to the 5.1 million tons of feces produced by America’s dogs and cats every year. One estimate of the dog sector alone found that disposing of all that waste adds some 500 million single-use bags to U.S. landfills annually.
The evils of single-use plastic bags have already been drilled into most of our heads by now: They take years to break down and when they do, they don’t decompose but rather turn into tiny microplastics that end up in the soil, waterways, food chain, and even our bloodstreams and breast milk. There is one seemingly great and trendy way to get around this: compostable bags!
Alas, if something sounds too good to be true, it is. For one thing, the “compostable” claims made by eco-friendly pet companies are wildly misleading. Though brands like to imply that their bags decompose and disappear like any other yard waste, these products only break down within a year under the extremely specific conditions of a commercial composting facility — very, very few of which even accept pet waste in the first place. As a result, the FTC has flagged that “compostable claims for these products are generally untrue.”


Companies love to exploit consumers’ lack of knowledge around these terms and processes, though, and are mostly free to do so since the language isn’t strongly regulated. Often brands will brag that their compostable bags meet the “ASTM D6400 standard,” which just means they meet the industrial composting standard — again, pretty useless for us in this context. (Touting the ASTM D6400 standard is also often a way for brands to hide that their bags are made with virgin fossil fuels … more on that soon).
The bigger question when it comes to composting pet waste is, do we even want to? Dogs and cats are meat eaters, which means their poop contains parasites and bacteria like roundworms and hookworms, which can last for years in the soil and even be passed onto humans if used as a fertilizer for edible plants. While maybe this doesn’t sound like it could be that big of a problem, it is: “A study by the Bureau of Sanitation found that 60% of the bacteria in a Marina Del Rey, [California,] waterway was because of animals, domesticated and feral,” the Los Angeles Times reports. Gross.
This is one time you’ll ever hear me say that dog people have it better, though. Done correctly, dog owners actually can home compost dog waste if they’re so inclined. That said, a major downside of compostable bags is that they seem to lead some people to the impression that they can litter trails and parks with their “green” bags since the bags will eventually “go away.” As previously discussed: No, they won’t.
Cat waste, however, never basically should end up in your garden: Felines carry the parasite Toxoplasma gondii, which can be passed onto humans via compost but has been found to kill wildlife, including the sea otters in California. “Toxoplasma infections contribute to the deaths of 8 percent of otters that are found dead, and is the primary cause of death in 3 percent,” The New York Times explains. While feral cats used to be blamed for spreading the parasite, new evidence shows house cats almost certainly are, too — through their waste.
So compostable pet waste bags are out. As one municipality put it, dog and cat poop should be treated like what it is: not a fertilizer, but a pollutant. That means it needs to be sequestered, one way or another, in a landfill.
Just going to nip this one in the bud. For the same reason that composting pet waste isn’t advisable due to parasites and bacteria in four-legged meat-eaters’ feces, flushable pet waste bags and litter aren’t a safe or responsible choice, either.
Many waste treatment facilities don’t kill Toxoplasma, so putting cat poop in the toilet just expedites its journey into your local waterway. Indeed, in responding to an utterly unhinged email I sent them about cat waste, the California Association of Sanitation Agencies confirmed that “the only thing that should be flushed is human waste and toilet paper.”
Biodegradable pet waste bags are what radicalized me.
At first glance, these bags appear to be the best option. A number of them come on the recommendation of the sustainability website Treehugger. The product websites usually feature blogs full of reassuring information about how harmful plastic waste is, or boast 1% for the Planet certifications, or mention something about being made of cornstarch. Even the bags are green!
And almost all of them, despite their lofty claims, are made using virgin fossil fuels.
Polybutylene Adipate Terephthalate, or “PBAT,” is a biodegradable plastic made from the petrochemicals butanediol, purified terephthalic acid (PTA), and adipic acid. Translation: Fossil fuels must be extracted in order to make any bag that contains PBAT, which is virtually all of them.
Companies are exceptionally sneaky about this, though. Some of the brands boast outright about using PBAT as a traditional plastic alternative, likely assuming customers have no idea what the acronym means and won’t bother looking it up. Yet as Alice Judge, a former veterinarian and co-founder of the U.K.-based sustainable pet website Pet Impact, found in her own investigation, PBAT rarely makes up less than 60% of these supposedly “plant-based” pet waste bags. “There is some really concerning greenwashing and outright lying” going on in the industry, she told me. “We’ve found brands that are very big, reputable brands even saying explicitly ‘100% plant-based’ and in the same sentence saying ‘made from cornstarch and PBAT.’”

PBAT is typically combined with cornstarch or sugarcane, so a “plant-based” bag advertising those ingredients can often be a tip-off that a fossil fuel product is also involved. Additionally, companies will frequently flag on their packaging that they meet the ASTM D6400 or BPI standards, though these have no provisions against certifying biodegradable products that contain PBAT.
Pet waste bag companies appear to go out of their way to avoid these admissions. Doggy Do Good, a popular sustainable pet waste company, told me in an email they use a “proprietary bio-based material” for “60.9% of the composition of their bags” — that is, the expected amount of PBAT — and added that “this fully biodegradable copolymer is an excellent alternative to polyethylene.” When I pressed to clarify if their proprietary “biodegradable copolymer” in question was PBAT, as I suspected, they stopped replying to my emails. The Original Poop Bag, another green bag company, didn’t answer me at all when I asked if their bags contained the fossil fuel product.
Despite these avoidance tactics, biodegradable bag companies aren’t using PBAT because they nefariously want to ruin the planet. It’s just the dirty secret of the pet waste bag business. As Judge explained in a blog post, “All poo bags have to include PBAT for strength and structure. If they were 100% plant-based, they would turn to mush very quickly when wet, lack strength, and tear easily (some qualities you really don’t want in a poo bag!).”
Fair enough. It’s the lack of transparency that is the problem: Most of these companies are selling fossil fuel-based products to customers who think they’re buying bags made from corn.

Ultimately, there are two ways to think about the impact of the pet waste bags you buy: the impact of the materials used to make them and the impact of their disposal. If the latter is your biggest concern — what happens to bags after they’ve been used — biodegradable and “plant-based” bags are still probably the best, if imperfect, option available on the market. You can throw them in the trash (where they belong because again, pet poop is a pollutant) but also know at least that they’ll eventually biodegrade in a landfill (it should be noted, though, that everything is technically biodegradable, and the word means nothing without specification about the timeline and conditions).
From an “input” perspective — what the bags are made of, and how — biodegradable and “plant-based” bags are a little less exciting. They require less virgin fossil fuel than buying a bag entirely made out of traditional single-use plastic, though some research has suggested there is “no real difference in lifetime emissions between” products made with traditional plastic and those made from bioplastics. By another estimate, greenhouse gas emissions “are typically higher for bio-based plastics than recycled and virgin plastics” because “corn requires large amounts of energy, space, and water to grow industrially” and “turning the corn starch (once cultivated) into a polymer requires considerable energy.”
There is one major exception to all of this: Avoid “oxo-biodegradable” products. These are banned in the EU because they break down, sure — but into toxic microplastics.
Though they’re comparatively rare, you can find “recycled plastic” pet waste bags on the market. They apparently cut down on virgin fossil fuels by recycling plastic that’s already been extracted. (Judge’s company, Pet Impact, sells its own poo bag made from recycled ocean plastic, oyster shell waste, and “about 25 to 30%” virgin fossil fuels).

But while recycled plastic sounds great, it has — you guessed it — its own complications.
“Chemical” or “advanced” plastic recycling is the current sweetheart of the oil and gas industry, despite evidence that recycling plastic isn’t nearly as good as it’s chalked up to be. For one thing, the process of converting old plastics into new plastics is incredibly emissions-intensive and thus requires the burning of fossil fuels to generate the required energy. The recycling process can also spew cancer-causing chemicals into the air that disproportionately poison low-income communities of color, like those in “Cancer Alley.”
This is a problem that stretches far beyond the humble poo bags: Hundreds of companies now sell everything from clothes to shoes to shampoo bottles on the boast that they’re made from recycled plastics. Yet “by feigning ‘recycling’ (really, downcycling) of plastic pollution, companies can divert attention from their role in perpetuating this crisis while pulling in profits,” stresses the advocacy group Plastic Pollution Coalition. Recycled plastic can be just another smokescreen when what’s really needed is a reduction of single-use plastics altogether.
But it was reducing single-use plastics that got me into this whole mess in the first place.
In March 2020, a month when nothing else of note was happening, New York City banned single-use carryout plastic bags, joining San Francisco and a number of other towns around the country. But like many pet owners, grocery store plastic bags had been our go-to litter scooping bags. As we became more conscious of single-use plastics in some parts of our lives, it led us to buy … a bunch of single-use plastics to use for our pets.
As the pandemic wore on, my husband and I eventually decided to fly across the country with Marinka and Virginia in order to be with our families. There, my stepmother introduced us to a revolutionary new poop bag. It didn’t require the extraction of any new fossil fuels, and while it doesn’t break down in a landfill, it also won’t poison any otters.
The name of this holy grail of poop bags? Trash.
Empty bread bags can become the perfect chutes for scoops of litter. Plastic packaging gets a second life as a final resting place for kitty unmentionables. Bags of dry cat food, once exhausted, can be refilled.
This isn’t a perfect solution, either (for example, “produce bags aren’t engineered to be particularly durable, nor to hold in liquids or odors,” Wirecutter warns with the confidence of experience). But if I’ve learned anything in this mad, scatological journey, it’s that there is no perfect solution. What satisfies one person’s environmental concerns — about greenhouse gas emissions, fossil fuel extraction, or waste and pollution — might not satisfy someone else’s. And at a certain point, you have to make a choice, and likely a compromise, and then move on to focusing on the things that make a bigger difference, like what you drive, where you get your power from, or what you eat.
All this is to say, the trash method works for me because it makes single-use plastics destined for the landfill anyway into twice-use plastics. And at least it allows me not to think about cat poop anymore.
I think I’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime.
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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.