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Reading the Supreme Court’s decision in Sackett v. EPA might cause you to question your grasp of the English language. Wetlands are wet but are they water? What is water, anyway? Is it distinct from “waters,” plural? How about the word “adjacent” — does it mean “next to” or is it a nonsensical string of syllables signifying nothing?
Even attempting to explain the breakdown of the court’s decision, issued Thursday, requires small abuses of language. The ruling was “nominally unanimous” in that all the justices technically agreed the Environmental Protection Agency overstepped its jurisdiction when it dinged Michael and Chantell Sackett of Idaho in violation of the Clean Waters Act after they backfilled their property with dirt and rocks in preparation for construction. (The EPA claimed the Sackett’s land was protected wetland; in this specific case, the justices didn’t buy it). But the judges were far from unanimous in their reading of the law more broadly, with conservative Justice Brett Kavanaugh notably breaking from his ideological cohorts to issue a scathing clarifying opinion that was joined by the court’s four liberal judges.
Sackett v. EPA was probably always going to come down to semantics. The case marked the latest chapter in a decades-long legal debate over what counts as “waters” when it comes to the “waters of the United States,” which are federally protected by the 1972 Clear Water Act (CWA). In 1975, the Army Corps clarified that wetlands that are “adjacent to other navigable waters” should be considered a part of that protected body of water, and Congress codified this definition in 1977 when it made amendments to the CWA. This conventional interpretation of the words “waters” and “adjacent” had been the standard for 45 years and survived eight presidential administrations.
But hey, what is a word, really? Who decides what it means? Writing for the five other conservative justices, Samuel Alito proposed that wetlands might not be continuously wet enough to count as part of the larger protected whole:
The EPA argues that “waters” is “naturally read to encompass wetlands” because the “presence of water is ‘universally regarded as the most basic feature of wetlands...’”
… which, yeah, of course. Any child can tell you that wetlands are wet and that the “wet” in question is caused by water, not hot lava or buttermilk. But lo! “[T]hat reading proves too much,” Alito said. “Consider puddles, which are also defined by the ordinary presence of water even though few would describe them as ‘waters.’” It’s not even a creative false equivalency; besides, no one is trying to protect puddles.
Alito further fretted that by allowing for a definition of wetlands that includes, uh, wetlands, landowners could face “crushing” fines for “inadvertent violations” of the Clean Water Act “like moving dirt.” As Alito worried, “What are landowners to do if they want to build on their property?” (“Don’t pollute American waterways” seems like a pretty reasonable answer to that question!)
The real battle, though, boiled down to the word “adjacent.” In a 2006 Supreme Court opinion for Rapanos v. United States, the late conservative Antonin Scalia wrote for the plurality that wetlands only count as protected when they are “indistinguishable from waters of the United States.” (The court was divided and the case was ultimately sent back to the Sixth Circuit.)
By this unorthodox interpretation, the Clean Water Act would only protect “wetlands with a continuous surface connection” to protected waters, as Alito endorsed and wrote in the opinion released Thursday. What this means in real life is that when wetlands are separated from a larger body of protected water by something like a man-made levee or a naturally occurring berm or a sand dune — as many wetlands are — then the wetland in question is not indistinguishable from the larger body of water and thus no longer federally protected.
You might notice that “adjacent” and “continuous” are two different words. When Congress adopted the Army Corps’ language for protecting American waters from pollution, it did not protect wetlands that are “indistinguishable from other waters” but rather wetlands that are adjacent to other waters. As Kavanaugh pointed out:
The ordinary meaning of the term “adjacent” has not changed since Congress amended the Clean Water Act in 1977 to expressly cover “wetlands adjacent” to waters of the United States. Then as now, “adjacent” means lying near or close to, neighboring, or not widely separated. Indeed, the definitions of “adjacent” are notably explicit that two things need not touch each other in order to be adjacent.
Alito’s argument that adjacent means the same thing as adjoining goes “against all indications of ordinary meaning,” Kavanaugh added.
This isn’t just semantic nitpicking. The consequences of changing the definition of “adjacent” to something more like “an extension of” have huge ramifications for what the EPA can now protect. Because of that interpretation, millions of acres of wetlands theoretically just lost their federal protections. The Mississippi River, for example, uses levees to control flooding, but under Alito’s definition of “continuous surface connection,” such barriers would “seemingly preclude Clean Water Act coverage of adjacent wetlands on the other side,” Kavanaugh wrote. Federal protection of the Chesapeake Bay might also be up in the air for similar reasons.
Justice Elena Kagan, in her own extra spicy opinion joined by the other court liberals, ripped into the conservative majority for its word games. “[T]he majority shelves the usual rules of interpretation — reading the text, determining what the words used there mean, and applying that ordinary understanding concurring in judgment even if it conflicts with judges’ policy preferences,” she slammed, then added for good measure: “One last time: ‘Adjacent’ means neighboring, whether or not touching ... That congressional judgment is as clear as clear can be — which is to say, as clear as language gets.”
Of course, the decision isn’t about clarity or standard definitions. It’s about muddying the waters. What, after all, do we now make of wetlands that have surface water levels that fluctuate due to tides or dry spells? What of manmade barriers that existed before their builders knew the structures would cut off a wetland from federal protection? What even counts as a “continuous surface connection” — does a ditch? A pipe? How do we make sense of naturally shifting landscapes like dunes that temporarily cut off wetlands, only to eventually melt away again due to erosion or winds?
The conservative justices are more interested in exploitable ambiguities than answers to these questions.
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Oregon’s Cram Fire was a warning — the Pacific Northwest is ready to ignite.
What could have been the country’s first designated megafire of 2025 spluttered to a quiet, unremarkable end this week. Even as national headlines warned over the weekend that central Oregon’s Cram Fire was approaching the 100,000-acre spread usually required to achieve that status, cooler, damper weather had already begun to move into the region. By the middle of the week, firefighters had managed to limit the Cram to 95,736 acres, and with mop-up operations well underway, crews began rotating out for rest or reassignment. The wildfire monitoring app Watch Duty issued what it said would be its final daily update on the Cram Fire on Thursday morning.
By this time in 2024, 10 megafires had already burned or ignited in the U.S., including the more-than-million-acre Smokehouse Creek fire in Texas last spring. While it may seem wrong to describe 2025 as a quieter fire season so far, given the catastrophic fires in the Los Angeles area at the start of the year, it is currently tracking below the 10-year average for acres burned at this point in the season. Even the Cram, a grassland fire that expanded rapidly due to the hot, dry conditions of central Oregon, was “not [an uncommon fire for] this time of year in the area,” Bill Queen, a public information officer with the Pacific Northwest Complex Incident Management Team 3, told me over email.
At the same time, the Cram Fire can also be read as a precursor. It was routine, maybe, but also large enough to require the deployment of nearly 900 fire personnel at a time when the National Wildland Fire Preparedness Level is set to 4, meaning national firefighting resources were already heavily committed when it broke out. (The preparedness scale, which describes how strapped federal resources are, goes up to 5.) Most ominous of all, though, is the forecast for the Pacific Northwest for “Dirty August” and “Snaptember,” historically the two worst months of the year in the region for wildfires.
National Interagency Coordination Center
“Right now, we’re in a little bit of a lull,” Jessica Neujahr, a public affairs officer with the Oregon Department of Forestry, acknowledged to me. “What comes with that is knowing that August and September will be difficult, so we’re now doing our best to make sure that our firefighters are taking advantage of having time to rest and get rejuvenated before the next big wave of fire comes through.”
That next big wave could happen any day. The National Interagency Fire Center’s fire potential outlook, last issued on July 1, describes “significant fire potential” for the Northwest that is “expected to remain above average areawide through September.” The reasons given include the fact that “nearly all areas” of Washington and Oregon are “abnormally dry or in drought status,” combined with a 40% to 60% probability of above-average temperatures through the start of the fall in both states. Moisture from the North American Monsoon, meanwhile, looks to be tracking “largely east of the Northwest.” At the same time, “live fuels in Oregon are green at mid to upper elevations but are drying rapidly across Washington.”
In other words, the components for a bad fire season are all there — the landscape just needs a spark. Lightning, in particular, has been top of mind for Oregon forecasters, given the tinderbox on the ground. A single storm system, such as one that rolled over southeast and east-central Oregon in June, can produce as many as 10,000 lightning strikes; over the course of just one night earlier this month, thunderstorms ignited 72 fires in two southwest Oregon counties. And the “kicker with lightning is that the fires don’t always pop up right away,” Neujahr explained. Instead, lightning strike fires can simmer for up to a week after a storm, evading the detection of firefighting crews until it’s too late. “When you have thousands of strikes in a concentrated area, it’s bound to stretch the local resources as far as they can go,” Neujahr said.
National Interagency Coordination Center
The National Interagency Fire Center has “low confidence … regarding the number of lightning ignitions” for the end of summer in the Northwest, in large part due to the incredible difficulty of forecasting convective storms. Additionally, the current neutral phase of the El Niño-Southern Oscillation means there is a “wide range of potential lightning activity” that adds extra uncertainty to any predictions. The NIFC’s higher confidence in its temperature and precipitation outlooks, in turn, “leads to a belief that the ratio of human to natural ignitions will remain high and at or above 2024 levels.” (An exploding transformer appears to have been the ignition source for the Cram Fire; approximately 88% of wildfires in the United States have human-caused origins, including arson.)
Periodic wildfires are a naturally occurring part of the Western ecosystem, and not all are attributable to climate change. But before 1995, the U.S. averaged fewer than one megafire per year; between 2005 and 2014, that average jumped to 9.8 such fires per year. Before 1970, there had been no documented megafires at all.
Above-average temperatures and drought conditions, which can make fires larger and burn hotter, are strongly associated with a warming atmosphere, however. Larger and hotter fires are also more dangerous. “Our biggest goal is always to put the fires out as fast as possible,” Neujahr told me. “There is a correlation: As fires get bigger, the cost of the fire grows, but so do the risks to the firefighters.”
In Oregon, anyway, the Cram Fire’s warning has registered. Shortly after the fire broke out, Oregon Governor Tina Kotek declared a statewide emergency with an eye toward the months ahead. “The summer is only getting hotter, drier, and more dangerous — we have to be prepared for worsening conditions,” she said in a statement at the time.
It’s improbable that there won’t be a megafire this season; the last time the U.S. had a year without a fire of 100,000 acres or more was in 2001. And if or when the megafire — or megafires — break out, all signs point to the “where” being Oregon or Washington, concentrating the area of potential destruction, exhausting local personnel, and straining federal resources. “When you have two states directly next to each other dealing with the same thing, it just makes it more difficult to get resources because of the conflicting timelines,” Neujahr said.
By October, at least, there should be relief: The national fire outlook describes “an increasing frequency of weather systems and precipitation” that should “signal an end of fire season” for the Northwest once fall arrives. But there are still a long 68 days left to go before then.
On China’s Paris pact with Europe, Trump’s mineral geopolitics, and Google’s CO2 battery bet
Current conditions: The record-setting heat roasting more than 100 million Americans in the central U.S. is now headed for the densely populated Northeast • The American Samoan capital of Pago Pago faces “imminent” flash flooding on Friday amid days of rain • China just set a record for the highest number of hot days since March in its history.
The Palisades nuclear plant on the shore of Lake Michigan.Holtec International
Three years after the Palisades nuclear plant in Michigan became the country’s last atomic power station to permanently close, the facility is set to become the first in U.S. history to reopen after a final shutdown. On Thursday afternoon, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission issued its formal approval for the plant’s operating license, putting the single-reactor station on track to restart later this year, the plant’s owner, Holtec International, told me. With just 11 days to go before its license expired, Palisades’ previous owner opted to close down May 2022 rather than make necessary upgrades to continue operations. The Biden-era Loan Programs Office at the Department of Energy put up more than $1.5 to fund the effort. Despite freezing funding for other projects, the Trump administration shelled out the money to Holtec.
The project still faces obstacles. Holtec still needs to finalize repairs at the plant, which are subject to another NRC review. Anti-nuclear activists, meanwhile, vowed to appeal the NRC license. Still, Holtec’s President Kelly Trice said the NRC approval “represents an unprecedented milestone in U.S. nuclear energy.”
As the U.S. seeks to dismantle its climate regulations, China and the European Union signed a pledge Thursday to work together on cutting emissions. The document, dubbed “the way forward” following the 10-year anniversary of the Paris climate accords, called the 2015 pact brokered in the French capital “the cornerstone of international climate cooperation” that “all parties” should implement “in a comprehensive, good-faith and effective manner.” The two global powers also reached a deal for the emergency export of rare earth metals from China, which dominates their global trade, to European factories facing shortages of the materials, according to The New York Times.
The diplomatic communique comes as the U.S. goes through the process to quit the Paris Agreement for the second time. In 2017, Trump waited weeks to initiate the exit, and the protocol completed around the time of the 2020 election. That allowed then-President-elect Joe Biden to signal his plans to rejoin immediately, rendering the American withdrawal a brief hiccup. This time, however, the rules allow the U.S. to leave in about a year, and Trump started the process on his first day in office.
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Just over a week after the Pentagon made a landmark investment in the United States’ only rare earths mine, President Donald Trump elevated his minerals adviser to the Nation Security Council. While the Trump administration did not confirm what Copley’s new position would entail, an industry source told E&E News the job change was a promotion for the military veteran and former mining executive, who would now serve as “both the White House mineral and supply chain czar.”
The move comes as China has sought to leverage its grip over global supplies of minerals such as rare earth metals and graphite by tightening export restrictions. While Trump’s military investment into California rare earth producer MP Materials may mirror China’s strategy of government funding for critical materials, Beijing has another thing going for it: Strong demand from electric vehicles. Therein lies what Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin recently called the “paradox” of Trump’s mineral policy: He’s making it easier to mine but eliminating the demand pull of electric vehicles and wind turbines.
Google has invested in small modular reactors, nuclear fusion, and even old-fashioned hydropower to shore up a steady supply of electricity for its reactors. This morning, the tech giant announced a strategic investment into carbon dioxide batteries, as I reported earlier today over at Latitude Media. The startup Energy Dome houses its technology in white, inflatable shelters similar to what you see over the courts at professional tennis tournaments. But inside is equipment that compresses and liquefies CO2, stores it in carbon steel tanks, then turns the liquid back into pressurized gas when energy is needed. Once reheated, the carbon dioxide is pumped through turbines to generate electricity for up to 24 hours at a time.
Headquartered in Milan, Energy Dome already had a deal for pilot plants in Wisconsin, Sardinia, and India, about eight hours west of Hyderabad. But Google said it plans to deploy the technology across the U.S., Europe, and Asia.
Maine is speeding up approvals for nearly 1,600 gigawatt-hours of renewable energy to make sure projects can tap into federal tax credits before the Trump administration cracks down, Canary Media's Sarah Shemkus reported. State regulators gave developers a July 25 deadline to take part in the fast-tracking program. The state is seeking enough bids to meet about 13% of its annual electricity demand. The program will give preference to projects sited on property where water or soil is contaminated by toxic PFAS, the cancer-causing substances known as “forever chemicals.”
Not all states are as welcoming of renewables. In Ohio, as Heatmap’s Jael Holzman reported yesterday, 26 out of 88 counties have “established restricted areas where wind or solar are prohibited.” The key to getting around local opposition is early community outreach and building a base of support for a project.
Consider the lobster, but listen to the shrimp. A new study in the journal Royal Society Open Science found that listening to the high-frequency sounds snapping shrimp produce “can be used as a real indicator of coral resilience,” Xavier Raick, postdoctoral fellow in bioacoustics at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, said in a press release. “Snapping shrimp’s abundance is a mirror of coral cover. So if you have more corals, especially very big colonies, you have more snapping shrimps, and then you can use their sound as a proxy for the reef, structure, and health.”
Solar and wind projects will take the most heat, but the document leaves open the possibility for damage to spread far and wide.
It’s still too soon to know just how damaging the Interior Department’s political review process for renewables permits will be. But my reporting shows there’s no scenario where the blast radius doesn’t hit dozens of projects at least — and it could take down countless more.
Last week, Interior released a memo that I was first to report would stymie permits for renewable energy projects on and off of federal lands by grinding to a halt everything from all rights-of-way decisions to wildlife permits and tribal consultations. At minimum, those actions will need to be vetted on a project-by-project basis by Interior Secretary Doug Burgum and the office of the Interior deputy secretary — a new, still largely undefined process that could tie up final agency actions in red tape and delay.
For the past week, I’ve been chatting with renewables industry representatives and their supporters to get their initial reactions on what this latest blow from the Trump administration will do to their business. The people I spoke with who were involved in development and investment were fearful of being quoted, but the prevailing sense was of near-total uncertainty, including as to how other agencies may respond to such an action from a vital organ of the federal government’s environmental review process.
The order left open the possibility it could also be applied to any number of projects “related to” solar and wind — a potential trip-wire for plans sited entirely on private lands but requiring transmission across Bureau of Land Management property to connect to the grid. Heatmap Pro data shows 96 renewable energy projects that are less than 7 miles away from federal lands, making them more likely to need federal approval for transmission or road needs, and another 47 projects that are a similar distance away from critical wildlife habitat. In case you don’t want to do the math, that’s almost 150 projects that may hypothetically wind up caught in this permitting pause, on top of however many solar and wind projects that are already in its trap.
At least 35 solar projects and three wind projects — Salmon Falls Wind in Idaho and the Jackalope and Maestro projects in Wyoming — are under federal review, according to Interior’s public data. Advocates for renewable energy say these are the projects that will be the most crucial test cases to watch.
“Unfortunately they’ll be the guinea pigs,” said Mariel Lutz, a conservation policy analyst for the Center for American Progress, who today released a report outlining the scale of job losses that could occur in the wind sector under Trump. “The best way to figure out what this means is to have people and projects try or not try various things and see what happens.”
The data available is largely confined to projects under National Environmental Policy Act review, however. In my conversations with petrified developers this past week, it’s abundantly clear no one really knows just how far-reaching these delays may become. Only time will tell.