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The 50-year-old law narrowly avoided evisceration on the House floor Wednesday, but more threats lie in wait.

Americans may not agree on much, but it seems fair to say that most are pretty happy that the bald eagle isn’t extinct. When the Senate passed the Endangered Species Act on a 92-0 vote in 1973, bald eagles were among the first on the protected list, their population having cratered to fewer than 450 nesting pairs by the early 1960s. Now delisted, bald eagles easily outnumber the population of St. Louis, Missouri, in 2026, at more than 300,000 individuals.
The Endangered Species Act remains enduringly popular more than 50 years later due to such success stories, with researchers finding in a 2018 survey that support for the legislation has “remained stable over the past two decades,” with only about one in 10 Americans opposing it. Even so, the law has long been controversial among industry groups because of the restrictions it imposes on development. In 2011, when Republicans took control of the House of Representatives, Congress introduced 30 bills to alter the ESA, then averaged around 40 per year through 2016.
“A lot of environmental laws have not been brought into the 21st century or modernized effectively,” Gabriella Hoffman, the director of the Center for Energy and Conservation at Independent Women’s Forum, a conservative think tank that supports overhauling the legislation, told me. “It might sound counterintuitive, but a lot of us who are critical of the current iteration of the ESA want it to work.”
Other critics have argued that environmentalists and NIMBYs have weaponized the ESA to block infrastructure projects, including, in some cases, clean energy development, as we’ve covered extensively in The Fight. Kristen Boyles, the managing attorney of Earthjustice’s Northwest office, suggested, however, that pitting the ESA and wildlife protections against clean energy creates a false dichotomy. “I think there are very few examples of a species and a clean energy project collision that can’t be worked around,” she told me. “Most of the time, [the Endangered Species Act] is making sure that we have a process that respects both the web of life and the clean energy that we all want.”
This month, Republicans’ multi-pronged efforts to weaken the ESA are reaching a crescendo. In 2019, the Trump administration managed to push through the first major changes to the ESA in decades by finalizing rules that softened the protections for “threatened” species, expedited delisting plants and animals, and allowed new economic considerations such as lost revenue to be weighed alongside the benefits of protected status. Though President Biden walked back some of those changes when he took office, others remained in place until late last month, when a judge struck them down as in violation of both the Endangered Species Act and the National Environmental Policy Act.
Now, however, the assaults are back. The House has been readying legislation that would have bypassed the regulatory pathway, codifying or expanding upon many of the changes made under Trump 1. The bill, H.R. 1897, was pulled from floor consideration at the last minute on Wednesday, apparently due to a lack of support.
“It just fell from its own weight,” Mary Beth Beetham, the director of legislative affairs at Defenders of Wildlife, told me afterward. “There is no way to fix this bill” — though in theory it could return to the schedule down the line.
However the Trump administration also submitted final rules with overlapping goals to the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs earlier this month, which Boyles expects to see finalized any day now. The two-pronged approach gives Republicans multiple ways forward in their goals of overhauling the ESA by making it more deferential to industry — and less nimble in extending protections to species that may face accelerated threats like climate change.
Here’s a closer look at what’s happening.
Though not as durable as changes to the law itself, the regulatory route for amending the ESA is a quicker and faster-acting process. If legislation ever passes the House, it may still go nowhere in the Senate — or the upper chamber may choose to write its own version, which must then be reconciled. Rules can be challenged, but they also take effect immediately and remain in place until a lawsuit proves successful.
“It’s within the power of the executive branch,” Boyles explained. The Trump administration “can’t change the law because you’ve got to get Congress to do that, and it’s hard to get things passed through Congress” — as evidenced by Wednesday’s events on the House floor.
Though there are several pending final rules pertaining to the ESA under review by the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs tweaking critical habitat rules for animals such as the Canadian Lynx and various species of freshwater mussels, three in particular had environmentalists worried: “Rescinding the Definition of ‘Harm’ under the Endangered Species Act,” “Regulations Pertaining to Endangered and Threatened Wildlife and Plants,” and “Regulations for Designating Critical Habitat.”
The first concerns the definition of the word “harm,” which is central to how the Endangered Species Act protects wildlife. The ESA specifically prohibits “harassing, harming, pursuing, hunting, shooting, wounding, killing, trapping, capturing, or collecting any of the listed species, or attempting to do so.” While words like “shooting” and “killing” are pretty unambiguous, “harming” has been defined by the Fish and Wildlife Service and the National Marine Fisheries Service for decades as including modifications to habitat that negatively affect the protected species. “If you cut down the tree where the endangered bird lives, you haven’t actually shot the bird; you have just as clearly caused it not to survive because you’re cutting down the places it needs to live,” Boyles said.
Now, the FWS and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Fisheries have proposed final rules that would rescind their respective definitions of “harm.” The environmental groups I spoke with were dismissive of these proposals, given that the particular definition of “harm” had been challenged by the timber industry in 1995 and upheld by the Supreme Court in a 6-3 vote.
“When you look at something like the attempt to redefine ‘harm’ under the Endangered Species Act, an agency can’t do that,” Lisa Saltzburg, a senior attorney with Defenders of Wildlife, told me. “The law says what it says, and they can’t, by regulation, just get around that.”
Of greater concern to Boyles, at least, were the other two rules. The first, “Regulations Pertaining to Endangered and Threatened Wildlife and Plants,” concerns the 4(d) rule, which extends blanket protections to animals and plants listed as “threatened.” The new version would repeal those automatic protections and instead require a separate rulemaking process for each animal listed as threatened, slowing the implementation of protections. “Listing is inherently urgent — that’s the gateway to protection,” Saltzburg said.
The other rule, “Regulations for Designating Critical Habitat,” pertains to the 4(b)(2) rule of the Endangered Species Act, which describes the Secretary of the Interior’s ability to exclude an area from a critical habitat designation if the economic, national security, or community benefits are deemed to outweigh the wildlife protections. The final rule now being weighed essentially creates a “framework biased toward exclusion,” its critics say.
Regulations are just one mechanism for altering the Endangered Species Act, though. The legislative route wouldn’t be vulnerable to a court’s determination that it is inconsistent with the law because it would be the law. Any legal challenge would have to prove that the law itself was unconstitutional, a higher bar to clear.
“The bill is just beyond bad,” Saltzburg, the senior attorney with Defenders of Wildlife, told me before it was pulled. Introduced as the ESA Amendments Act of 2025 by Arkansas Republican Bruce Westerman in March of last year, H.R. 1897 seeks to rename the Endangered Species Act the “Endangered Species Recovery Act,” which critics say underscores its priority of delisting animals and plants.
Hoffman, the director at IWF who supports the Republican amendments, told me the ESA has historically “prevented extinction, but it has not done a great job of the delisting part,” with only around 3% of the species that have been listed in the past half-century bouncing back to the point that, like the bald eagle, they can ultimately be removed. “You can even have certain production, you can have new projects, all the while balancing it out with ensuring that nobody is harmfully targeting imperiled species,” she said.
Supporters of the ESA, however, argue that the 3% statistic is misleading, given that most animals on the endangered species list haven’t been protected long enough for a full recovery — a 2016 study found that the average bird had been listed for 36 years, while their average federal recovery estimate was 63 years — and that the greater focus should be on its 99% success rate in preventing extinction.
Notably, H.R. 1897 would expand on the first Trump administration’s now-overturned rule, which permitted smaller habitat-damaging projects to go forward if they didn’t damage a habitat as a “whole.” The bill would make it more difficult for an area to qualify as critical habitat at all. It also eliminates FWS’s ability to require mitigation and offsets for unavoidable harm from projects. “These aren’t reforms to make the Endangered Species Act work better,” Boyles said. “They’re the same rollbacks that already got kicked out of court, now coming back dressed up as legislation.”
The bill would also make it more difficult to list species as endangered by adding administrative and procedural hurdles, such as mandatory economic analyses and multi-tiered work plans that must be submitted to Congress. The more than 1,700 domestic species covered by the ESA must be reviewed by FWS or NOAA every 5 years to determine whether their protected status remains appropriate; H.R. 1897 forces faster delistings by imposing a 30-day rulemaking window on already overburdened agencies once a decision is made, although the rules are complicated and, as it stands, can take years to finalize. FWS has lost 18% of its staff since the start of the second Trump administration and is already struggling with a backlog.
In a particularly pointed illustration of how H.R. 1897 would unwind preexisting safeguards, a federal court earlier this year voided a 2020 Florida wetlands permitting program for violating ESA protections for local wildlife. H.R. 1897 simply overrides the court by putting the state program into federal statute.
Boyles sounded doubtful when I asked for her read on the future of the bill, noting that it had been pulled from consideration a few weeks ago, too. “I have to assume that when members of Congress heard from their constituents, they decided this might not be the most pressing thing for them to do right now,” she said, adding, “I think this is House leadership recognizing they don’t have the votes and if they don’t have the votes, they’re not going to bring it up.”
But environmentalists won’t breathe easy before it’s officially dead. When I asked Saltzburg to speculate about the species that might not have made it this far if legislation like H.R. 1897 had passed two decades ago, she called the thought experiment “a nightmare to even imagine.”
“This isn’t about efficiency,” Saltzburg said. “It’s about inviting the extinction of species we’ve already proven we know how to save.”
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The data center boom is everywhere you look in U.S. economic and emissions data.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
It isn’t exactly a new thought, but I’ve been struck recently by how many trends in America’s economic and environmental data are fundamentally about the data center boom and the return of electricity demand:
First, the Energy Information Administration reported this week that U.S. emissions grew by more than 2% last year, driven by surging electricity demand and an increase in coal-fired generation.What caused that higher power demand? New factories and data centers — as well as record summertime cooling demand.
Second, many of the new factories driving that higher power demand are themselves producing goods that are … let’s say … data center-adjacent. There are the enormous new semiconductor fabs, of course. But Ford and General Motors have also set up new production lines (or repurposed old ones) to manufacture grid-scale batteries to meet power demand.
Third, take a look at the recent U.S. spending on private non-residential construction — in other words, everything American companies are building that is not houses, condos, or apartments.
The construction industry’s spent almost $60 billion on data centers over the past year, which is more than it spent on all other office buildings combined (and more than it spent building warehouses, too). Just a handful of categories — data centers, power plants, electricity infrastructure, and certain kinds of electronics manufacturing — now make up a third of all U.S. private non-residential construction investment. They’ve never made up such a large share of construction spending since data collection began in 2014.
As The New York Times recently noted, the American economy is unusually dependent on the American stock market right now — and the stock market is unusually dependent on artificial intelligence. This week, investors started to balk at the enormous spending hyperscalers are planning to keep building out the AI boom; Alphabet’s shares dropped 8% this week after it boosted its planned 2026 capital expenditure and signaled 2027 will be even bigger. If the data center boom started to slow down in earnest, then more than just that budget will change.
Speaking of which, my colleague Emily Pontecorvo wrote earlier this week about how many businesses are struggling to even estimate their carbon emissions from artificial intelligence. The carbon accounting startup Watershed recently unveiled a new formula to help companies get a sense of their AI-related emissions.
But even that formula is still limited by the amount of data hyperscalers publish — and they don’t publish that much. Google, for instance, is the only AI company that has (laudably) provided estimates of its emissions on a per-prompt basis. Yet no company has published its per-token emissions, or how emissions sync up with particular models or regions.
So Emily asked Google: Why aren’t you — or any other model provider — disclosing this kind of data yet?
The tech company didn’t get back to us until after we’d published Emily’s story. But its response was interesting enough that I wanted to quote some of it here.
The problem is “industry consensus,” Cooper Elsworth, a Google spokesperson, told us. “There is currently very little consensus on how to comprehensively and fairly measure the serving environmental impact of generative AI (such as text generation),” he wrote. “Without standardized, ‘apples-to-apples’ frameworks, it is difficult to compare different providers accurately.”
That’s partly because energy use — and emissions data — can vary from site to site and depend on “custom-built hardware, software compilers, and advanced inference techniques.” And he claimed Google doesn’t always have the measurement hardware in place to provide such specific estimates: “Providing precise, repeatable data requires highly advanced measurement infrastructure,” he said. “For example, software-based energy monitoring tools often suffer from sampling biases. For our study, we had to step away from top-down averages and directly measure actual energy at the physical power supply unit (PSU) level across our deployed fleet. Not all providers have the telemetry or data sets required to benchmark their operations at this level of granularity.”
Read Emily’s story to understand the other reasons why estimating — or even “guesstimating” — AI-related carbon emissions is so challenging.
A conversation with Emma Uridge of the Kansas Health Institute.
This week’s conversation is with Emma Uridge, analyst with the Kansas Health Institute. Uridge spent copious hours analyzing state and local laws on data center development to best understand how policymakers are responding to the potential environmental public health impacts of large AI infrastructure, including power and water. The report, which came out this week, also goes in depth into those health impacts. I reached out to her to discuss what she sees as must-watch territory for our readers on this emerging policy arena.
Our conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
What is actually being done on policy when it comes to data centers — beyond moratoria of course?
So first I’d like to just talk about the point of moratoria. It’s helpful to talk about how these policies emerge in the first place. One area where moratoria are helpful is when a data center is proposed but the county has no approach for how they’d like to potentially regulate them. That’s temporary, most of the time. It lets local governments conduct research on the various impacts and also negotiate community benefits, ones that can mitigate any potential negative impacts — like Lancaster Pennsylvania, which instituted a community benefit agreement that maximized the potential benefits of development while mitigating what large data centers can do. That agreement looked at capping municipal water use at 20,000 gallons per day and requiring 100% clean energy. It had financial penalties for non-compliance. The company also committed $20 million to their local economic development and clean energy fund. There are ways to negotiate with developers.
We also see amendments to existing zoning. Data center proposals are increasingly popping up in rural areas, many of which are unzoned, so there’s no way a county can negotiate unless there’s a moratorium in place.
Other policy solutions include different performance standards or requiring on-site renewable energy, like what Jefferson County, Missouri, looked at. Also setback requirements, mandatory noise buffers, ending by-right zoning.
Where are local governments getting ideas for regulating data centers?
A lot of the technical information comes from developers. That can in cases be seen as a biased source of information. I wouldn’t say there’s a dedicated group providing assistance to local governments when a project is proposed — which is a similar story to wind industry development, where we have only a handful of consultants who provide technical advice. It can be really helpful to get a multi-disciplinary approach to hearing information. It can be helpful to have the utility commission, public health folks, those in academia, as well as the developer.
As of right now, especially in rural areas, local governments have a hard task of balancing pushback while getting the most accurate, evidence-based, neutral information to make decisions. That balance can be contentious.
What is the federal government doing on data center policy? How is the Trump administration approaching it?
A few things there. In the early days, the drive was for AI expansion and to be competitive with foreign adversaries. Now due to the amount of public pushback in red and blue localities and a more cautious approach.
I’m not seeing a lot of actual policy movement at this time.
I know the EPA is looking at the chemicals used in cooling data centers because when that water is cycled through the system, some of it is discharged into the water system, so they’re looking at the Toxic Substances and Control Act for monitoring that.
How much of an impact does this minimal federal role have on industry behavior?
Y’know, this isn’t specific to data centers. This is true for all kinds of large-scale development: there’s a need to require some sort of federal monitoring and regulation.
That’s where I see an emerging role for public health. At the federal level, there could be policy movement towards requiring some sort of environmental monitoring at data centers to make sure they’re operating responsibility. Looking at specific water use relative to water availability and what happens when there’s a time of severe, persistent drought. With air quality too — we’ve seen areas where the grid isn’t as reliable so their diesel generators are kicking on more and affecting air quality for residents.
We’re just not seeing all of that right now. We need corporate disclosure.
What do you see as the most important public health impacts from data center development?
It varies by localities. The most discussed obviously is water usage. One thing I’d note about my conversations with folks enthusiastic around emerging tech is, there are still questions that need to be asked about the capacity of localities to support a data center. Like a small town in Kansas may only be using 40% of their water for their utility needs. If a data center came online, how much of that water goes to the data center?
One area underexplored within the public health discipline is energy poverty and energy security. The ability of a household to meet the needs of everything energy provides in our lives. It’s known we have an aging electric grid but we’re not talking enough about large-scale blackouts when the grid is not sufficient to support some of these new data centers.
Plus more of the week’s big development fights.
1. Laramie County, Wyoming — Meta is fighting the fine it received in the Cheyenne data center water pollution controversy, and the conflict between the tech giant and the city’s small board of public utilities is continuing to spill out into the public.
2. Niagara County, New York — This county just rejected a solar project’s highway work permits in a show of retaliation against the state’s Office of Renewable Energy Siting.
3. Barron County, Wisconsin — The anti-solar protest is the new campaign stop in deep red Wisconsin.
4. Chesapeake, Virginia — A large battery storage project on the Virginia coastline is on the rocks amidst rampant local opposition.
5. Lewis County, West Virginia — West Virginia is now a key battleground in the fight over transmission, as a line spanning all of West Virginia and Maryland — and cutting through Data Center Alley in Virginia — causes compounding consternation.