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Facing a fossil energy crisis, voters in this oil-producing state have some decisions to make.

When you think of climate change, you think of Alaska whether you realize it or not.
With its pipelines, polar bears, and dramatic, calving glaciers, the state has contributed an outsized amount of stock footage to global warming montages over the years. Combined with a nearly unbroken record of backing Republican presidential candidates and an increasingly young and diverse voting-age population, there’s a popular impression — among outsiders, anyway — of the state as a front line in the battle between continued fossil fuel dependence and a clean-energy future.
Somewhat ironically, Alaskans themselves don’t typically view things that way. Though no fewer than four utility board elections and the Anchorage mayoral race this spring will help to shape the energy future of the Railbelt, the electrical grid that runs from Fairbanks through Anchorage and out to the Kenai Peninsula and serves 70% of the state’s population, locals are debating the stakes in terms of cost.
“Literally nobody who is pitching renewables [on the campaign trail] is pitching them as a solution to climate change,” Nathaniel Herz, an independent Anchorage-based reporter who covers energy, environment, and government issues in the state for his newsletter Northern Journal, told me. Rather, the selling point is that wind, solar, and tidal power could be the way out of an urgent gas shortage.
The energy crisis touched off in earnest last May when the region’s largest natural gas producer, Hilcorp, informed the four Railbelt utilities that it doesn’t have access to enough deliverable gas in Cook Inlet to guarantee new contracts going forward. Though a gas shortage in the aging basin was a long time coming, the urgency of the situation still came as a shock; the Railbelt utilities get about 80% of their energy from natural gas. Demand could outpace supply as soon as 2027, the state has warned.

Homer Electric Association was the first utility to face the consequences, with a contract that expired this year. As a stopgap, it signed a one-year contract with Enstar, the local private gas utility that gets 90% of its supply from Hilcorp (and also supplies gas for heating homes and businesses) at a higher price. The rest of the Railbelt co-ops’ contracts are set to expire by 2028.
Proposed solutions to the crisis range from new drilling in Cook Inlet — which is risky, expensive, and laden with permitting hurdles, making it unappealing to investors — to building an 800-mile, $43 billion pipeline from the oil-rich North Slope. More realistically, the Railbelt seems headed toward importing liquified natural gas from British Columbia, at least in the short term.
That option is “really unpalatable to many Alaskans,” Satchel Pondolfino, the lower Kenai Peninsula organizer for Cook Inletkeeper, a Homer-based environmental non-profit, told me. “We’re an energy state: It’s inconceivable for a lot of people that we have to bring in fuel from other places.”
It’s also expensive. Importing LNG could result in 50% higher costs for the utilities. That, in turn, would mean up to a 15% hike in consumers’ already-steep utility bills, and likely “even more than that for heating bills,” as Herz has reported — no small thing in a place where it is dark and cold for half the year. One independent analysis Herz cites found that the 80% renewable portfolio standard proposed by the state’s Republican Governor Mike Dunleavy would save $6.7 billion in fuel costs over the next 35 years compared to an estimated $3.2 billion investment in the projects. The National Renewable Energy Laboratory’s latest assessment likewise found that a large clean-energy build-out would be “more affordable than relying on imported natural gas.”
Critically, then, the spring elections in Alaska will help decide both what the long-term solution will be and how quickly it should be implemented. The Anchorage mayoral runoff set for this coming Tuesday — a choice between incumbent Dave Bronson, a self-described “center-right kind of guy” who favors new Cook Inlet drilling, and Suzanne LaFrance, a Lead Locally-endorsed climate candidate pushing for a renewable mix — is perhaps the marquee race, albeit one with a more limited say over the future energy mix.
“Utilities have control over specifically where they get their energy from, and the legislature has a lot of control over how we tax different energy producers,” Jenny-Marie Stryker, the political director at The Alaska Center, the state’s largest conservation advocacy organization, told me. But while there is not “one turnkey thing that we’re looking for the mayor to do,” Stryker added, it’s instead the “many, many steps” LaFrance has promised to follow in the city’s climate action plan that would mark an improvement over Bronson. (LaFrance’s campaign did not respond to Heatmap’s request for comment.)
Bronson, who was elected during the pandemic when Alaskans were bristling against perceived government overreach, ignored his predecessor’s climate action plan and established the Southcentral Mayors’ Energy Coalition to address the Railbelt energy crisis — a move Stryker told me was a “pretty big waste of time,” since it’s something the 11-mayor group has “no control over.” Bronson defended his decision to me in an emailed statement, arguing that any climate action plan is by necessity secondary to addressing Southcentral Alaska’s immediate energy concerns.
“It is easy to say, ‘Let’s build a massive solar plant, let’s invest in tidal energy, let’s investigate geothermal,’” he wrote. “However, there are grid transmission upgrades that need to be made” before that can be a reality. Additionally, while the assumption is that building out new renewables is “easy,” the “permitting process alone can take 2-3 years, and in some cases, 5-6 years,” he stressed. (New LNG import terminals, meanwhile, might not be online until 2030.)
Herz, the reporter, told me earlier that renewable project developers “would be looking at capital expenditures that were 80% to 90% higher than they would be to develop utility-scale renewable projects in the Lower 48.” In an oil state, there is also an “inherent skepticism about some of the renewable technology and economic viability that you might not find elsewhere in the United States because there aren’t really big utility-scale projects that have been built here.” The ones that are on the board — including a possible and intriguing tidal energy project — fall more firmly into the purview of the local co-ops.
The utility board elections, then, have a more immediate hand in shaping the Railbelt’s future energy mix. Two of those elections have already taken place: for the board of the Matanushka Electric Association, where both climate candidates lost (albeit one by just 41 of 3,246 votes), and for the Homer Electric Association, where a climate candidate was re-elected and a challenger lost, maintaining the board’s ideological status quo. Chugach Electric Association, which represents Anchorage and is the largest provider in the state, will go next, with voting ongoing and ending May 17. That board is currently held by a pro-renewable majority that has advanced utility-scale wind and solar projects, with pro-gas challengers vying to take back control.
Finally, Fairbanks’ Golden Valley Electric Association ballots are due June 4, with Gary Newman, a pro-renewable Democrat, attempting to hold off Harmony Tomaszewski, who helped block a local climate action plan last year. Fairbanks has been hit especially hard by the energy crisis, burning coal and diesel to compensate for LNG shortfalls and polluting its air. A rate hike of about $29 more per month for households has also brought unusually high levels of public interest to the co-op election.
While “on paper” the current GVEA board is “pretty conservative,” Eleanor Gagnon, the energy justice organizer with the Fairbanks Climate Action Coalition, told me, its annual meeting in April featured a lot of talk about diversifying its energy portfolio — a conversation that would have been shocking even a few years ago. “They really seem to have come to the realization that more renewables are necessary because of these rate hikes, and because the rate hikes are due to the instability of natural gas sources,” she said.
I’ve spoken with organizers before about how policies with positive climate benefits are often economic issues at heart — ones that sometimes override environmental motivations — and that seems especially true in Alaska. “The urgency of Cook Inlet gas not meeting our demands by 2027 — folks are throwing climate out the window,” Pondolfino, the Cook Inletkeeper organizer, said. “They’re like, ‘We just need energy security and we need to be able to afford it.’”
The math shows that having a diversified renewable mix would be better economically than importing expensive LNG. That doesn’t mean it will be an easy transition, or a quick one, but it gives activists and advocates a clear goal to keep working toward on every ballot.
“Most people in the Lower 48 do not have any way to voice their opinion about the direction their utility should move in, or to vote for representatives,” Pondolfino said. “It is a privilege to vote in elections that have a really direct impact on people’s lives and their ability to afford to live here.”
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Whether any of them will hold up in court is now the big question.
Environmental lawyers are in for years of déjà vu as the Trump administration relitigates questions that many believed were settled by the Supreme Court nearly 20 years ago.
On Thursday, Trump rescinded the “endangerment finding,” the Environmental Protection Agency’s 2009 determination that greenhouse gas emissions from vehicles threaten Americans’ public health and welfare and should be regulated. In the short term, the move repeals existing vehicle emissions standards and prevents future administrations from replacing them. In the longer term, what matters is whether any of the administration’s justifications hold up in court.
In its final rule, the EPA abandoned its attempt to back the move using a bespoke climate science report published by the Department of Energy last year. The report was created by a working group assembled in secret by the department and made up of five scientists who have a track record of pushing back on mainstream climate science. Not only was the report widely refuted by scientists, but the assembly of the working group itself broke federal law, a judge ruled in late January.
“The science is clear that climate change is creating a risk for the public and public health, and so I think it’s significant that they realized that it creates a legal risk if they were to try to assert otherwise,” Carrie Jenks, the executive director of Harvard’s Environmental and Energy Law Program, told me.
Instead, the EPA came up with three arguments to justify its decision, each of which will no doubt have to be defended in court. The agency claims that each of them can stand alone, but that they also reinforce each other. Whether that proves to be true, of course, has yet to be determined.
Here’s what they are:
Congress never specifically told the EPA to regulate greenhouse gas emissions. If it did, maybe we would have accomplished more on climate change by now.
What happened instead was that in 1999, a coalition of environmental and solar energy groups asked the EPA to regulate emissions from cars, arguing that greenhouse gases should be considered pollutants under the federal Clean Air Act. In 2007, in a case called Massachusetts v. EPA, the Supreme Court agreed with the second part. That led the EPA to consider whether these gases posed enough of a danger to public health to warrant regulation. In 2009, it concluded they did — that’s what’s known as the endangerment finding. After reaching that finding, the EPA went ahead and developed standards to limit emissions from vehicles. It later followed that up with rules for power plants and oil and gas operations.
Now Trump’s EPA is arguing that this three-step progression — categorizing greenhouse gases as pollutants under the Clean Air Act, making a scientific finding that they endanger public health, and setting regulations — was all wrong. Instead, the agency now believes, it’s necessary to consider all three at once.
Using the EPA’s logic, the argument comes out something like this: If we consider that U.S. cars are a small sliver of global emissions, and that limiting those emissions will not materially change the trajectory of global warming or the impacts of climate change on Americans, then we must conclude that Congress did not intend for greenhouse gases to be regulated when it enacted the Clean Air Act.
“They are trying to merge it all together and say, because we can’t do that last thing in a way that we think is reasonable, we can’t do the first thing,” Jenks said.
The agency is not explicitly asking for Massachusetts v. EPA to be overturned, Jenks said. But if its current argument wins in court, that would be the effective outcome, preventing future administrations from issuing greenhouse gas standards unless Congress passed a law explicitly telling it to do so. While it's rare for the Supreme Court to reverse course, none of the five justices who were in the majority on that case remain, and the makeup of the court is now far more conservative than in 2007.
The EPA also asserted that the “major questions doctrine,” a legal principle that says federal agencies cannot set policies of major economic and political significance without explicit direction from Congress, means the EPA cannot “decide the Nation’s policy response to global climate change concerns.”
The Supreme Court has used the major questions doctrine to overturn EPA’s regulations in the past, most notably in West Virginia v. EPA, which ruled that President Obama’s Clean Power Plan failed this constitutional test. But that case was not about EPA’s authority to regulate greenhouse gases, the court solely struck down the particular approach the EPA took to those regulations. Nevertheless, the EPA now argues that any climate regulation at all would be a violation.
The EPA’s final argument is about the “futility” of vehicle emissions standards. It echoes a portion of the first justification, arguing that the point alone is enough of a reason to revoke the endangerment finding absent any other reason.
The endangerment finding had “severed the consideration of endangerment from the consideration of contribution” of emissions, the agency wrote. The Clean Air Act “instructs the EPA to regulate in furtherance of public health and welfare, not to reduce emissions regardless [of] whether such reductions have any material health and welfare impact.”
Funnily enough, to reach this conclusion, the agency had to use climate models developed by past administrations, including the EPA’s Optimization Model for reducing Emissions of GHGs from Automobiles, as well as some developed by outside scientists, such as the Finite amplitude Impulse Response climate emulator model — though it did so begrudgingly.
The agency “recognizes that there is still significant dispute regarding climate science and modeling,” it wrote. “However, the EPA is utilizing the climate modeling provided within this section to help illustrate” that zero-ing out emissions from vehicles “would not materially address the health and welfare dangers attributed to global climate change concerns in the Endangerment Finding.”
I have yet to hear back from outside experts about the EPA’s modeling here, so I can’t say what assumptions the agency made to reach this conclusion or estimate how well it will hold up to scrutiny. We’ll be talking to more legal scholars and scientists in the coming days as they digest the rule and dig into which of these arguments — if any — has a chance to prevail.
The state is poised to join a chorus of states with BYO energy policies.
With the backlash to data center development growing around the country, some states are launching a preemptive strike to shield residents from higher energy costs and environmental impacts.
A bill wending through the Washington State legislature would require data centers to pick up the tab for all of the costs associated with connecting them to the grid. It echoes laws passed in Oregon and Minnesota last year, and others currently under consideration in Florida, Georgia, Illinois, and Delaware.
Several of these bills, including Washington’s, also seek to protect state climate goals by ensuring that new or expanded data centers are powered by newly built, zero-emissions power plants. It’s a strategy that energy wonks have started referring to as BYONCE — bring your own new clean energy. Almost all of the bills also demand more transparency from data center companies about their energy and water use.
This list of state bills is by no means exhaustive. Governors in New York and Pennsylvania have declared their intent to enact similar policies this year. At least six states, including New York and Georgia, are also considering total moratoria on new data centers while regulators study the potential impacts of a computing boom.
“Potential” is a key word here. One of the main risks lawmakers are trying to circumvent is that utilities might pour money into new infrastructure to power data centers that are never built, built somewhere else, or don’t need as much energy as they initially thought.
“There’s a risk that there’s a lot of speculation driving the AI data center boom,” Emily Moore, the senior director of the climate and energy program at the nonprofit Sightline Institute, told me. “If the load growth projections — which really are projections at this point — don’t materialize, ratepayers could be stuck holding the bag for grid investments that utilities have made to serve data centers.”
Washington State, despite being in the top 10 states for data center concentration, has not exactly been a hotbed of opposition to the industry. According to Heatmap Pro data, there are no moratoria or restrictive ordinances on data centers in the state. Rural communities in Eastern Washington have also benefited enormously from hosting data centers from the earlier tech boom, using the tax revenue to fund schools, hospitals, municipal buildings, and recreation centers.
Still, concern has started to bubble up. A ProPublica report in 2024 suggested that data centers were slowing the state’s clean energy progress. It also described a contentious 2023 utility commission meeting in Grant County, which has the highest concentration of data centers in the state, where farmers and tech workers fought over rising energy costs.
But as with elsewhere in the country, it’s the eye-popping growth forecasts that are scaring people the most. Last year, the Northwest Power and Conservation Council, a group that oversees electricity planning in the region, estimated that data centers and chip fabricators could add somewhere between 1,400 megawatts and 4,500 megawatts of demand by 2030. That’s similar to saying that between one and four cities the size of Seattle will hook up to the region’s grid in the next four years.
In the face of such intimidating demand growth, Washington Governor Bob Ferguson convened a Data Center Working Group last year — made up of state officials as well as advisors from electric utilities, environmental groups, labor, and industry — to help the state formulate a game plan. After meeting for six months, the group published a report in December finding that among other things, the data center boom will challenge the state’s efforts to decarbonize its energy systems.
A supplemental opinion provided by the Washington Department of Ecology also noted that multiple data center developers had submitted proposals to use fossil fuels as their main source of power. While the state’s clean energy law requires all electricity to be carbon neutral by 2030, “very few data center developers are proposing to use clean energy to meet their energy needs over the next five years,” the department said.
The report’s top three recommendations — to maintain the integrity of Washington’s climate laws, strengthen ratepayer protections, and incentivize load flexibility and best practices for energy efficiency — are all incorporated into the bill now under discussion in the legislature. The full list was not approved by unanimous vote, however, and many of the dissenting voices are now opposing the data center bill in the legislature or asking for significant revisions.
Dan Diorio, the vice president of state policy for the Data Center Coalition, an industry trade group, warned lawmakers during a hearing on the bill that it would “significantly impact the competitiveness and viability of the Washington market,” putting jobs and tax revenue at risk. He argued that the bill inappropriately singles out data centers, when arguably any new facility with significant energy demand poses the same risks and infrastructure challenges. The onshoring of manufacturing facilities, hydrogen production, and the electrification of vehicles, buildings, and industry will have similar impacts. “It does not create a long-term durable policy to protect ratepayers from current and future sources of load growth,” he said.
Another point of contention is whether a top-down mandate from the state is necessary when utility regulators already have the authority to address the risks of growing energy demand through the ratemaking process.
Indeed, regulators all over the country are already working on it. The Smart Electric Power Alliance, a clean energy research and education nonprofit, has been tracking the special rate structures and rules that U.S. utilities have established for data centers, cryptocurrency mining facilities, and other customers with high-density energy needs, many of which are designed to protect other ratepayers from cost shifts. Its database, which was last updated in November, says that 36 such agreements have been approved by state utility regulators, mostly in the past three years, and that another 29 are proposed or pending.
Diario of the Data Center Coalition cited this trend as evidence that the Washington bill was unnecessary. “The data center industry has been an active party in many of those proceedings,” he told me in an email, and “remains committed to paying its full cost of service for the energy it uses.” (The Data Center Coalition opposed a recent utility decision in Ohio that will require data centers to pay for a minimum of 85% of their monthly energy forecast, even if they end up using less.)
One of the data center industry’s favorite counterarguments against the fear of rising electricity is that new large loads actually exert downward pressure on rates by spreading out fixed costs. Jeff Dennis, who is the executive director of the Electricity Customer Alliance and has worked for both the Department of Energy and the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, told me this is something he worries about — that these potential benefits could be forfeited if data centers are isolated into their own ratemaking class. But, he said, we’re only in “version 1.5 or 2.0” when it comes to special rate structures for big energy users, known as large load tariffs.
“I think they’re going to continue to evolve as everybody learns more about how to integrate large loads, and as the large load customers themselves evolve in their operations,” he said.
The Washington bill passed the Appropriations Committee on Monday and now heads to the Rules Committee for review. A companion bill is moving through the state senate.
Plus more of the week’s top fights in renewable energy.
1. Kent County, Michigan — Yet another Michigan municipality has banned data centers — for the second time in just a few months.
2. Pima County, Arizona — Opposition groups submitted twice the required number of signatures in a petition to put a rezoning proposal for a $3.6 billion data center project on the ballot in November.
3. Columbus, Ohio — A bill proposed in the Ohio Senate could severely restrict renewables throughout the state.
4. Converse and Niobrara Counties, Wyoming — The Wyoming State Board of Land Commissioners last week rescinded the leases for two wind projects in Wyoming after a district court judge ruled against their approval in December.