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Unlike another prominent climate case, there’s only upside to Held v. Montana
When Lander Busse spoke to the press after closing arguments in Held v. Montana, a trailblazing youth-led climate case that wrapped on Tuesday, he sounded optimistic.
“It feels like the beginning, really,” Busse, who at 18 is one of the case’s older plaintiffs, said. “Our next step in the process is getting our decision, which we’re really optimistic about at this point. But [we’re] also hopefully starting … a trickle-down of other litigation and activism nationally that we’ve been able to spark here.”
A cynic might describe the optimism as misguided; the idea of kids suing to control their future has historically only been entertained in the world of fiction. And yet when I asked lawyers about the case, they had a very different take. Not only is it a smart case with a strong argument, they told me, but it has practically no downsides.
“I understand the skepticism,” said James May, a law professor at Delaware Law School and founder of its Global Environmental Rights Institute. “If even a year ago, you had called and asked what I thought the prospects were of a climate case going on trial like this, I would have said next to zero. But there’s no other case like it. Never has climate been put on trial like this.”
According to the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law at Columbia University, thousands of climate change-related cases have been filed in the United States. But, May told me, other than cases over administrative issues such as permitting, none of those cases made it to trial. The fact that the youth plaintiffs actually got their day in court is by itself a big deal.
Going to trial means the plaintiffs will be able to establish, in the public record, evidence about the causes and effects of climate change.
“There are two audiences,” said Rebecca Bratspies, a law professor at the City University of New York and the founding director of the Center for Urban Environmental Reform. “There’s one audience in the court, and getting a favorable ruling in court is important. But there’s also the wider context in terms of the social conversations about how to respond to the climate crisis. A decision for the plaintiffs in a very red state like Montana would be an extremely important message to the country as a whole.”
That message, it seems, is that the courts have a newfound appetite for climate cases in a way that didn’t exist before. Three weeks ago, a judge ruled that a different youth-led climate case, Juliana v. United States, could move forward after the case was amended in response to a dismissal in 2020. Both Held and Juliana are being represented by attorneys from Our Children’s Trust, an environmental group that filed similar youth-led lawsuits in every state. But the cases rest on very different legal theories.
The plaintiffs in Held v. Montana benefit from a very specific set of circumstances. In 1972, Montana held a constitutional convention that, among other things, guaranteed in the new constitution that “the state and each person shall maintain and improve a clean and healthful environment in Montana for present and future generations.”
That gives the plaintiffs strong constitutional ground to stand on, Bratspies told me.
Montana’s state government has leaned particularly hard into climate denialism: in 2011 the legislature amended the Montana Environmental Policy Act so that climate change couldn’t be factored into environmental reviews, and this May, in an attempt to render the Held lawsuit moot, it specifically added a provision to ban any consideration of greenhouse gas emissions in environmental reviews of energy projects. If Judge Kathy Seeley, who heard the arguments in Held v. Montana, rules in favor of the plaintiffs, she could say those changes were unconstitutional and that the state of Montana would have to start considering the impacts of climate change in permitting decisions.
Juliana rests on a different legal theory entirely. In that case, the plaintiffs are alleging the federal government is violating what’s known as the public trust doctrine — an idea that goes back as far as the Romans, which holds that when a state controls land, they act as a trustee and control it for the benefit of the people.
The public trust doctrine underlies the idea that the federal government manages both national waters and federal lands for the good of the people; according to Bratspies, Juliana would argue that the same idea extends to the atmosphere, and that therefore the government is neglecting its duties by not ensuring the atmosphere remains free of greenhouse gasses and therefore affected by climate change.
When litigating cases like these, there’s a constant weighing of the risks versus the rewards, and that calculus changes according to the makeup of the courts. Juliana, if it makes its way to the United States Supreme Court, would find itself in front of a conservative-majority court that as recently as last year struck a blow at the EPA’s ability to regulate climate change.
“There’s always a risk that the Supreme Court is going to do something that is sort of unprecedented and not consistent with the long-standing body of law,” Bratspies told me. “The worst-case scenario is that the plaintiffs lose in a fashion that limits legal theories moving forward, [like if] the court narrows the public trust doctrine in a fashion that says it doesn't apply to the atmosphere because the Romans didn't think about the atmosphere.”
That could have a chilling effect on other climate cases in federal courts; any federal climate lawsuits would have to find a different legal theory to rest their cases on, and a court that is willing to upend the public trust doctrine is unlikely to be sympathetic to arguments that don’t have a constitutional right to stand on. Held v Montana, being a case in state court, has no such drawbacks. The legal ramifications of a loss would be limited only to Montana, while the social impacts of the case will remain regardless of the outcome.
“Reasonable people can disagree with me, but I see nothing but positives come out of this case,” May told me. “If the plaintiffs win, it’s a first-time ruling that underscores that the courts play a role in climate rights. But even if they lose, there’s all this evidence in the record now. That could maybe inform or inspire cases elsewhere. Even in losing it would advance the conversation more than anything else that has happened.”
It could take weeks or even months for Judge Seeley to issue a ruling, and either outcome is likely to be appealed to the Montana Supreme Court, where the plaintiffs may face an even tougher fight.
“It’s sort of a Sisyphean battle,” May said. “Every time they roll the boulder up to the top of the mountain, it rolls back down to the bottom, and they have to just keep trying. But what else is there to do? They can’t vote. They don’t hold the levers of power. They’re inheriting a melting planet. There’s nothing left to do except this.”
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New York City may very well be the epicenter of this particular fight.
It’s official: the Moss Landing battery fire has galvanized a gigantic pipeline of opposition to energy storage systems across the country.
As I’ve chronicled extensively throughout this year, Moss Landing was a technological outlier that used outdated battery technology. But the January incident played into existing fears and anxieties across the U.S. about the dangers of large battery fires generally, latent from years of e-scooters and cellphones ablaze from faulty lithium-ion tech. Concerned residents fighting projects in their backyards have successfully seized upon the fact that there’s no known way to quickly extinguish big fires at energy storage sites, and are winning particularly in wildfire-prone areas.
How successful was Moss Landing at enlivening opponents of energy storage? Since the California disaster six months ago, more than 6 gigawatts of BESS has received opposition from activists explicitly tying their campaigns to the incident, Heatmap Pro® researcher Charlie Clynes told me in an interview earlier this month.
Matt Eisenson of Columbia University’s Sabin Center for Climate Law agreed that there’s been a spike in opposition, telling me that we are currently seeing “more instances of opposition to battery storage than we have in past years.” And while Eisenson said he couldn’t speak to the impacts of the fire specifically on that rise, he acknowledged that the disaster set “a harmful precedent” at the same time “battery storage is becoming much more present.”
“The type of fire that occurred there is unlikely to occur with modern technology, but the Moss Landing example [now] tends to come up across the country,” Eisenson said.
Some of the fresh opposition is in rural agricultural communities such as Grundy County, Illinois, which just banned energy storage systems indefinitely “until the science is settled.” But the most crucial place to watch seems to be New York City, for two reasons: One, it’s where a lot of energy storage is being developed all at once; and two, it has a hyper-saturated media market where criticism can receive more national media attention than it would in other parts of the country.
Someone who’s felt this pressure firsthand is Nick Lombardi, senior vice president of project development for battery storage company NineDot Energy. NineDot and other battery storage developers had spent years laying the groundwork in New York City to build out the energy storage necessary for the city to meet its net-zero climate goals. More recently they’ve faced crowds of protestors against a battery storage facility in Queens, and in Staten Island endured hecklers at public meetings.
“We’ve been developing projects in New York City for a few years now, and for a long time we didn’t run into opposition to our projects or really any sort of meaningful negative coverage in the press. All of that really changed about six months ago,” Lombardi said.
The battery storage developer insists that opposition to the technology is not popular and represents a fringe group. Lombardi told me that the company has more than 50 battery storage sites in development across New York City, and only faced “durable opposition” at “three or four sites.” The company also told me it has yet to receive the kind of email complaint flood that would demonstrate widespread opposition.
This is visible in the politicians who’ve picked up the anti-BESS mantle: GOP mayoral candidate Curtis Sliwa’s become a champion for the cause, but mayor Eric Adams’ “City of Yes” campaign itself would provide for the construction of these facilities. (While Democratic mayoral nominee Zohran Mamdani has not focused on BESS, it’s quite unlikely the climate hawkish democratic socialist would try to derail these projects.)
Lombardi told me he now views Moss Landing as a “catalyst” for opposition in the NYC metro area. “Suddenly there’s national headlines about what’s happening,” he told me. “There were incidents in the past that were in the news, but Moss Landing was headline news for a while, and that combined with the fact people knew it was happening in their city combined to create a new level of awareness.”
He added that six months after the blaze, it feels like developers in the city have a better handle on the situation. “We’ve spent a lot of time in reaction to that to make sure we’re organized and making sure we’re in contact with elected officials, community officials, [and] coordinated with utilities,” Lombardi said.
And more on the biggest conflicts around renewable energy projects in Kentucky, Ohio, and Maryland.
1. St. Croix County, Wisconsin - Solar opponents in this county see themselves as the front line in the fight over Trump’s “Big Beautiful” law and its repeal of Inflation Reduction Act tax credits.
2. Barren County, Kentucky - How much wood could a Wood Duck solar farm chuck if it didn’t get approved in the first place? We may be about to find out.
3. Iberia Parish, Louisiana - Another potential proxy battle over IRA tax credits is going down in Louisiana, where residents are calling to extend a solar moratorium that is about to expire so projects can’t start construction.
4. Baltimore County, Maryland – The fight over a transmission line in Maryland could have lasting impacts for renewable energy across the country.
5. Worcester County, Maryland – Elsewhere in Maryland, the MarWin offshore wind project appears to have landed in the crosshairs of Trump’s Environmental Protection Agency.
6. Clark County, Ohio - Consider me wishing Invenergy good luck getting a new solar farm permitted in Ohio.
7. Searcy County, Arkansas - An anti-wind state legislator has gone and posted a slide deck that RWE provided to county officials, ginning up fresh uproar against potential wind development.
Talking local development moratoria with Heatmap’s own Charlie Clynes.
This week’s conversation is special: I chatted with Charlie Clynes, Heatmap Pro®’s very own in-house researcher. Charlie just released a herculean project tracking all of the nation’s county-level moratoria and restrictive ordinances attacking renewable energy. The conclusion? Essentially a fifth of the country is now either closed off to solar and wind entirely or much harder to build. I decided to chat with him about the work so you could hear about why it’s an important report you should most definitely read.
The following chat was lightly edited for clarity. Let’s dive in.
Tell me about the project you embarked on here.
Heatmap’s research team set out last June to call every county in the United States that had zoning authority, and we asked them if they’ve passed ordinances to restrict renewable energy, or if they have renewable energy projects in their communities that have been opposed. There’s specific criteria we’ve used to determine if an ordinance is restrictive, but by and large, it’s pretty easy to tell once a county sends you an ordinance if it is going to restrict development or not.
The vast majority of counties responded, and this has been a process that’s allowed us to gather an extraordinary amount of data about whether counties have been restricting wind, solar and other renewables. The topline conclusion is that restrictions are much worse than previously accounted for. I mean, 605 counties now have some type of restriction on renewable energy — setbacks that make it really hard to build wind or solar, moratoriums that outright ban wind and solar. Then there’s 182 municipality laws where counties don’t have zoning jurisdiction.
We’re seeing this pretty much everywhere throughout the country. No place is safe except for states who put in laws preventing jurisdictions from passing restrictions — and even then, renewable energy companies are facing uphill battles in getting to a point in the process where the state will step in and overrule a county restriction. It’s bad.
Getting into the nitty-gritty, what has changed in the past few years? We’ve known these numbers were increasing, but what do you think accounts for the status we’re in now?
One is we’re seeing a high number of renewables coming into communities. But I think attitudes started changing too, especially in places that have been fairly saturated with renewable energy like Virginia, where solar’s been a presence for more than a decade now. There have been enough projects where people have bad experiences that color their opinion of the industry as a whole.
There’s also a few narratives that have taken shape. One is this idea solar is eating up prime farmland, or that it’ll erode the rural character of that area. Another big one is the environment, especially with wind on bird deaths, even though the number of birds killed by wind sounds big until you compare it to other sources.
There are so many developers and so many projects in so many places of the world that there are examples where either something goes wrong with a project or a developer doesn’t follow best practices. I think those have a lot more staying power in the public perception of renewable energy than the many successful projects that go without a hiccup and don’t bother people.
Are people saying no outright to renewable energy? Or is this saying yes with some form of reasonable restrictions?
It depends on where you look and how much solar there is in a community.
One thing I’ve seen in Virginia, for example, is counties setting caps on the total acreage solar can occupy, and those will be only 20 acres above the solar already built, so it’s effectively blocking solar. In places that are more sparsely populated, you tend to see restrictive setbacks that have the effect of outright banning wind — mile-long setbacks are often insurmountable for developers. Or there’ll be regulations to constrict the scale of a project quite a bit but don’t ban the technologies outright.
What in your research gives you hope?
States that have administrations determined to build out renewables have started to override these local restrictions: Michigan, Illinois, Washington, California, a few others. This is almost certainly going to have an impact.
I think the other thing is there are places in red states that have had very good experiences with renewable energy by and large. Texas, despite having the most wind generation in the nation, has not seen nearly as much opposition to wind, solar, and battery storage. It’s owing to the fact people in Texas generally are inclined to support energy projects in general and have seen wind and solar bring money into these small communities that otherwise wouldn’t get a lot of attention.