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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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And more on the week’s most important conflicts around renewable energy projects.
1. Lawrence County, Alabama – We now have a rare case of a large solar farm getting federal approval.
2. Virginia Beach, Virginia – It’s time to follow up on the Coastal Virginia offshore wind project.
3. Fairfield County, Ohio – The red shirts are beating the greens out in Ohio, and it isn’t looking pretty.
4. Allen County, Indiana – Sometimes a setback can really set someone back.
5. Adams County, Illinois – Hope you like boomerangs because this county has approved a solar project it previously denied.
6. Solano County, California – Yet another battery storage fight is breaking out in California. This time, it’s north of San Francisco.
A conversation with Elizabeth McCarthy of the Breakthrough Institute.
This week’s conversation is with Elizabeth McCarthy of the Breakthrough Institute. Elizabeth was one of several researchers involved in a comprehensive review of a decade of energy project litigation – between 2013 and 2022 – under the National Environment Policy Act. Notably, the review – which Breakthrough released a few weeks ago – found that a lot of energy projects get tied up in NEPA litigation. While she and her colleagues ultimately found fossil fuels are more vulnerable to this problem than renewables, the entire sector has a common enemy: difficulty of developing on federal lands because of NEPA. So I called her up this week to chat about what this research found.
The following conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
So why are you so fixated on NEPA?
Personally and institutionally, [Breakthrough is] curious about all regulatory policy – land use, environmental regulatory policy – and we see NEPA as the thing that connects them all. If we understand how that’s functioning at a high level, we can start to pull at the strings of other players. So, we wanted to understand the barrier that touches the most projects.
What aspects of zero-carbon energy generation are most affected by NEPA?
Anything with a federal nexus that doesn’t include tax credits. Solar and wind that is on federal land is subject to a NEPA review, and anything that is linear infrastructure – transmission often has to go through multiple NEPA reviews. We don’t see a ton of transmission being litigated over on our end, but we think that is a sign NEPA is such a known obstacle that no one even wants to touch a transmission line that’ll go through 14 years of review, so there’s this unknown graveyard of transmission that wasn’t even planned.
In your report, you noted there was a relatively small number of zero-carbon energy projects in your database of NEPA cases. Is solar and wind just being developed more frequently on private land, so there’s less of these sorts of conflicts?
Precisely. The states that are the most powered by wind or create the most wind energy are Texas and Iowa, and those are bypassing the national federal environmental review process [with private land], in addition to not having their own state requirements, so it’s easier to build projects.
What would you tell a solar or wind developer about your research?
This is confirming a lot of things they may have already instinctually known or believed to be true, which is that NEPA and filling out an environmental impact statement takes a really long time and is likely to be litigated over. If you’re a developer who can’t avoid putting your energy project on federal land, you may just want to avoid moving forward with it – the cost may outweigh whatever revenue you could get from that project because you can’t know how much money you’ll have to pour into it.
Huh. Sounds like everything is working well. I do think your work identifies a clear risk in developing on federal lands, which is baked into the marketplace now given the pause on permits for renewables on federal lands.
Yeah. And if you think about where the best places would be to put these technologies? It is on federal lands. The West is way more federal land than anywhere else in the county. Nevada is a great place to put solar — there’s a lot of sun. But we’re not going to put anything there if we can’t put anything there.
What’s the remedy?
We propose a set of policy suggestions. We think the judicial review process could be sped along or not be as burdensome. Our research most obviously points to shortening the statute of limitations under the Administrative Procedures Act from six years to six months, because a great deal of the projects we reviewed made it in that time, so you’d see more cases in good faith as opposed to someone waiting six years waiting to challenge it.
We also think engaging stakeholders much earlier in the process would help.
The Bureau of Land Management says it will be heavily scrutinizing transmission lines if they are expressly necessary to bring solar or wind energy to the power grid.
Since the beginning of July, I’ve been reporting out how the Trump administration has all but halted progress for solar and wind projects on federal lands through a series of orders issued by the Interior Department. But last week, I explained it was unclear whether transmission lines that connect to renewable energy projects would be subject to the permitting freeze. I also identified a major transmission line in Nevada – the north branch of NV Energy’s Greenlink project – as a crucial test case for the future of transmission siting in federal rights-of-way under Trump. Greenlink would cross a litany of federal solar leases and has been promoted as “essential to helping Nevada achieve its de-carbonization goals and increased renewable portfolio standard.”
Well, BLM has now told me Greenlink North will still proceed despite a delay made public shortly after permitting was frozen for renewables, and that the agency still expects to publish the record of decision for the line in September.
This is possible because, as BLM told me, transmission projects that bring solar and wind power to the grid will be subject to heightened scrutiny. In an exclusive statement, BLM press secretary Brian Hires told me via e-mail that a secretarial order choking out solar and wind permitting on federal lands will require “enhanced environmental review for transmission lines only when they are a part of, and necessary for, a wind or solar energy project.”
However, if a transmission project is not expressly tied to wind or solar or is not required for those projects to be constructed… apparently, then it can still get a federal green light. For instance in the case of Greenlink, the project itself is not explicitly tied to any single project, but is kind of like a transmission highway alongside many potential future solar projects. So a power line can get approved if it could one day connect to wind or solar, but the line’s purpose cannot solely be for a wind or solar project.
This is different than, say, lines tied explicitly to connecting a wind or solar project to an existing transmission network. Known as gen-tie lines, these will definitely face hardships with this federal government. This explains why, for example, BLM has yet to approve a gen-tie line for a wind project in Wyoming that would connect the Lucky Star wind project to the grid.
At the same time, it appears projects may be given a wider berth if a line has other reasons for existing, like improving resilience on the existing grid, or can be flexibly used by not just renewables but also fossil energy.
So, the lesson to me is that if you’re trying to build transmission infrastructure across federal property under this administration, you might want to be a little more … vague.