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At least for the foreseeable future. But is the Manchin-Barrasso bill actually worth it?

So … is the permitting reform bill any good or not?
Earlier this year, Senators Joe Manchin of West Virginia and John Barrasso of Wyoming proposed a bill that would change federal environmental rules so as to spur a buildout of new energy infrastructure around the country.
Their proposal would have loosened rules for oil and gas drilling and exporting while changing federal law to encourage the construction of more clean energy.
These renewables-friendly changes included creating a new legal regime that would push utilities and grid operators to build significantly more long-distance power lines, triggering a nationwide boost to renewable resources. They would also have changed the regulations governing geothermal power generation, allowing new enhanced geothermal wells to play by the same federal rules that bind oil and gas.
The legislation was announced in July and then … nothing happened.
Now it seems likely to come back. Congress is eyeing its final agenda items for the year, and permitting reform is one of them. Representative Bruce Westerman, a Republican who chairs the House Committee on Natural Resources, is currently said to be revamping Manchin and Barrasso’s proposal to include reforms to the National Environmental Policy Act, a bedrock law that guides the process — but not the outcome — of virtually every major decision that the federal government makes and requires it to study the environmental impact of its policies.
We don’t know what those changes will look like yet, though they’ll have to come soon — the new Congress gets sworn in in just a few weeks. Which means lawmakers will have to get the proposed changes, process them, and decide whether to vote for them in a very short period of time — just a few days.
So during this liminal period, then, I wanted to take a moment to look at the other parts of the bill. Earlier this year, we got a sense of what the bill’s quantitative effects might be. They suggest that the legislation — at least in the initial version proposed by Manchin and Barrasso — could very well help cut U.S. emissions, or at least leave them flat. But after that? It starts to get complicated.
Republicans have long pushed for changes to the federal government’s permitting regime.
But in recent years, Democrats — who hope to prompt a national surge of clean energy construction — have come aboard too. The Biden administration, frustrated that some parts of the Inflation Reduction Act and Bipartisan Infrastructure Law haven’t resulted in the large-scale projects they hoped for, has come to back permitting reform explicitly, although they have not endorsed Manchin and Barrasso’s bill.
“The president has been clear … that we believe permitting reform should pass on a bipartisan basis — and that we believe permitting needs to be optimized for building out a clean energy economy,” John Podesta, a White House senior advisor who is now the country’s top climate diplomat, said in a speech last year.
The White House’s support of bipartisan permitting reform is more than just posturing: Because of Senate math, any changes to the country’s permitting laws almost certainly must be bipartisan. Until a bare majority of Democratic senators exists to kill the legislative filibuster, it will take a vote of at least 60 senators — a so-called supermajority — to alter most pre-existing federal legislation.
So the question, then, is: Is this attempt at permitting reform worth passing? Is this package of fossil fuel concessions and clean energy incentives likely to reduce emissions more than it increases them?
I won’t try to answer that question comprehensively today, and we can’t even answer it fully until we know the scope of Westerman’s changes. But I do want to share an analysis from the center-left think tank Third Way and other researchers that suggests that the answer is “yes.”
This analysis, released in September, argues that Manchin and Barrasso’s bill would modestly increase emissions by encouraging more oil and gas drilling on federal lands. But that increase would likely be dwarfed by a large decrease in emissions prompted by building out the country’s electricity transmission grid.
More specifically, it finds that while the pro-fossil fuel provisions could raise global climate pollution by as much as 6.1 billion metric tons by 2050, the bill’s support for transmission could cut emissions by as much as 15.7 billion metric tons in that time (although the final number, as you’ll see, is a very high end estimate). That’s because, as I’ve written before, building the grid will allow for more renewable, geothermal, and other forms of zero-carbon electricity generation to get built. And the country can only reduce emissions by building more zero-carbon electricity.
Some of those emissions increases from oil and gas are now likely to occur whether or not the bill passes — the Trump administration will encourage fossil fuel extraction and export far beyond what a Harris administration would have done.
But even in a more conservative scenario, the transmission provisions would still cut emissions by 6.5 billion metric tons by 2050, Third Way’s synthesis says. That would mean — when compared to the pro-fossil policies — that the bill has a much more modest effect overall, cutting emissions by just over 400 million tons through 2050.
These aren’t the only numbers out there. An analysis by Jeremy Symons, the former vice president of public affairs at the Environmental Defense Fund, argues that the bill’s loosening of some Biden-era restrictions on liquified natural gas export terminals will result in a tremendous LNG boom. He asserts that the bill’s LNG provisions could increase global emissions by 8.5 to 11 gigatons; his analysis, however, draws heavily from a controversial, initially erroneous, and now updated study from the Cornell ecologist Robert Howarth that contends American natural gas is far worse for the climate than coal.
Third Way did not include Symons’ study in its analysis. Instead, it cites a different study led by the Princeton professor Jesse Jenkins (with whom I cohost Heatmap’s Shift Key podcast) that uses natural-gas emissions estimates more in line with the broader scholarly literature. That modeling study indicates that the LNG provisions in the Manchin-Barrasso bill could increase emissions by as much as 3.3 gigatons — or decrease them by 2.4 gigatons.
I’m not going to get more into the LNG question in this story. And it’s somewhat less important than it was earlier this year because Trump administration is likely to approve as many LNG export terminals as it can. (That doesn’t mean those terminals will get built: Right now, a dozen LNG terminals have been approved but not built due to a lack of global demand for more LNG.) Instead, I want to dive into two specific provisions in the bill — on oil and gas leasing and transmission — that reveal the broader challenges of trying to speak concretely about this proposal.
By far the most climate-friendly provisions in EPRA concern its support of long-distance electricity transmission. As I’ve covered before, the lack of electricity transmission is now one of the biggest barriers to building new wind, solar, and other clean energy in the United States; the construction of new wind farms, in particular, seems to be slowing down because of a lack of available power lines to carry their electrons.
Manchin and Barrasso’s proposal aims to build more transmission largely by granting new powers to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, the independent agency that oversees the country’s power grids. EPRA would, for instance, allow FERC to step in and approve transmission lines that are “in the national interest” if a state has not acted on a given project within a year. The law also clarifies who should pay for a new power line, encoding the idea that customers who benefit from a line should pay for it. And it lets FERC approve payments from developers to the communities where new transmission infrastructure gets built, potentially smoothing approvals at the local level.
The bill also instructs FERC to write a rule that will require each part of the country to build a minimal amount of power lines that allow regions to exchange power with their neighbors. This measure — meant to spur new “interregional” transmission infrastructure — aims to knit the national grid more closely together and lower power costs on average.
How much would these policies reduce national emissions? The truth is, that’s extremely difficult to model. “There’s nothing in the EPRA that says, Thou shalt build this much transmission,” Charles Teplin, a grid expert at the think tank RMI, told me.
Instead, the bill aims to kick off a process that will result in more transmission getting built. That transmission should — in theory — bring more renewables online. But what will the size of that buildout be, and how many emissions will those renewables displace?
Answering these questions requires, again, estimating the uncertain. To come up with a reasonable, conservative figure to represent the amount of regional transmission that might get built under the new FERC process, they looked at what happened when a similar process was overseen by the Midwest’s grid. Then they rounded down that figure significantly.
Teplin and his colleagues also assumed that some big power lines that have already been proposed nationwide — roughly 15 gigawatts, to be exact — will get completed faster because of these new laws, so their analysis starts to bring them online by 2029. One only need look at the nearly two-decade saga of SunZia, a large power line that crosses New Mexico and Arizona, to see how long it can take to finish those projects today.
Under those assumptions, the law should more than double the rate of America’s transmission buildout, Teplin and his team estimated. Right now, the country builds perhaps 1 gigawatt of new transmission lines every year; under their assumptions, that would leap to 2 to 4 gigawatts a year.
So how many emissions would these new lines avoid? Using a report published by Grid Strategies, a power sector consulting firm that advocates for more transmission, Teplin and his colleagues estimate that each “gigawatt-mile” of new transmission will let operators add about 32 gigawatts of solar and wind to the grid each year. (This suggests that, most of the time, the lines would run at about 30% of capacity.)
Finally, the team assumed that electricity from these new renewable projects will replace power from natural gas plants. That, too, is an approximation: Some of those new wind and solar farms will drive out coal plants; others might replace non-emitting resources like nuclear or hydroelectric dams; but in general they will reduce gas burning.
When you put all those figures together, RMI’s analysis suggests that the legislation could build roughly twice as much new clean energy generation by 2050 as exists in all fossil-fuel power plants today. These new resources would help avoid about 6.5 gigatons of greenhouse gas emissions by the middle of the century.
That may seem like a big number — but Third Way was actually able to reach an even larger estimate. Teplin and his team didn’t try to differentiate, for instance, between the effects of a recent FERC order, which requires utilities to build more transmission within regions, and the proposed Manchin-Barrasso bill, which shores up the legality of that FERC order and would also induce utilities to build more power lines between regions. Some legal experts argue that the recent FERC order will be on shaky ground if the Manchin-Barrasso bill doesn’t pass; others say it’s stable enough as-is.
If you assume that courts will kill the FERC order unless Congress acts, then that should raise your estimate of what Manchin-Barrasso might do. That’s essentially what Third Way did — by giving the bill more credit for the resulting regional transmission buildout, they say that its carbon upside could be as large as 15.7 gigatons over the next 25 years. I’m not sure I would be that aggressive, but I think the transmission provisions would likely initiate a big buildout of renewables.
The Manchin-Barrasso bill contains a number of provisions that aim to increase the leasing of federal land for oil and gas drilling. One set requires that the Interior Department must offer a minimum amount of acres every year for oil and gas leasing. It also says that the land offered must be land that oil and gas companies actually want to lease.
This would address one of Republicans’ biggest objections to how the Biden administration has handled oil and gas extraction on federally owned land. As part of the Inflation Reduction Act, Manchin required that the government offer a minimum amount of oil and gas acreage for every acre of public land it leased to wind and solar developers. But Republicans have accused the Biden administration of getting around this rule by, in essence, offering useless or otherwise undesirable land.
(This concession, I should add, is now essentially moot until 2029, as the Trump administration will hasten to nominate the parcels that oil and gas companies are most excited to drill on. But it could bind a future Democratic administration, requiring them to offer good parcels for oil and gas leasing at the same time that they offer federal land for renewable development.)
The bill would also change some of the rules around the drilling allowed on the borders of federally owned land. Under the Manchin-Barrasso bill, companies could drill a vertical well on privately owned land, then extend it horizontally underground into federal land to extract oil or gas.
These provisions, too, are difficult to model. Much like the transmission proposal, they won’t lead to a guaranteed amount of drilling (although they will essentially produce a minimum amount of fossil fuel leasing). Nor will they substantially change the drilling that happens under Donald Trump or a future Republican president because any fossil fuel-loving administration is already free to go much further than these provisions would require them to.
To estimate the emissions impact of these provisions, the think tank Resources for the Future first tried to draw some error bars around their analysis. As a worst-case scenario, analysts modeled what would happen if the onshore drilling that happened during the Trump administration occurred every year from 2025 to 2050. Under this “Trump forever” scenario, emissions increase about 2.1 gigatons from 2025 to 2050. Under a less dire scenario, they would increase by about 0.6 gigatons during the same period.
These estimates almost certainly exceed what EPRA would actually do, Kevin Rennert, the director of RFF’s federal climate policy initiative, told me.
“None of the provisions would require the levels of leasing that we’re analyzing in the high-leasing scenario,” he said. “It’s clear [that the model is] a high upper bound on what EPRA itself would drive.” The provisions in the Manchin-Barrasso bill, in other words, are aimed much more at putting a floor under a future Democratic administration than they are raising a ceiling for a future Republican administration.
(Over all these discussions hangs a curious question about drilling for oil and gas on public land: How important is it, really? But that’s a question for another time.)
How you feel about this reform effort ultimately depends on how you feel about gambling. Is it worth hamstringing a future Democratic president’s ability to hem in oil production in exchange for unleashing a wave of new transmission under the Trump administration? How much do you weigh building more renewables versus selling more fossil fuels to the world?
Trump’s victory last month also changes the calculus. His administration will increase onshore oil and gas leasing regardless of whether this bill passes or not. He will stop the Energy Department’s effort to slow down the construction of LNG terminals and approve a new wave of projects. All of the bill’s support for fossil fuels, in other words, would be moot — Trump will do that stuff anyway. So the question becomes whether the bill’s support for new transmission infrastructure 1) actually builds new power lines, and 2) provides a useful tailwind for renewables and clean energy during what would otherwise be a difficult four years.
You can go in almost endless loops through the politics here. Given Trump’s antipathy toward renewables, why should we expect his administration to allow a transmission buildout in the first place, regardless of what Congress says? In which case, maybe the bill isn’t worth it. But on the other hand, maybe it is — since Trump’s going to do everything he can to juice fossil fuels and fight renewables, why not pass the bill and give power system regulators in blue and purple states an extra tool to juice clean energy construction? And hey, given Trump’s friendliness toward the AI boom, maybe he’ll wind up having to build more transmission just to service data centers.
We can’t make that political call quite yet. Until we know exactly how Westerman’s addition to the legislation would change NEPA, it’s hard to say where lawmakers should come down. But what’s clear is that this may be Congress’s last chance to deal with permitting reform for a while. Next year, the Republican majority is likely to be focused on tax cuts, and it’s not even clear that the reconciliation process would allow for changing permitting law. “We’re pretty pessimistic that you could include anything on permitting or transmission or any of these other things in the reconciliation process,” Devin Hartman, a policy director at the center-right think tank the R Street Institute, told Heatmap this week.
So this is it for permitting reform — it’s now or never for this set of changes. In a year full of surprises for climate and environmental law, we may yet get one more.
Jael Holzman contributed reporting.
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to correct the magnitude of emissions reductions from the Manchin-Barrasso bill found in Third Way’s analysis.
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1. Marion County, Indiana — State legislators made a U-turn this week in Indiana.
2. Baldwin County, Alabama — Alabamians are fighting a solar project they say was dropped into their laps without adequate warning.
3. Orleans Parish, Louisiana — The Crescent City has closed its doors to data centers, at least until next year.
A conversation with Emily Pritzkow of Wisconsin Building Trades
This week’s conversation is with Emily Pritzkow, executive director for the Wisconsin Building Trades, which represents over 40,000 workers at 15 unions, including the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, the International Union of Operating Engineers, and the Wisconsin Pipe Trades Association. I wanted to speak with her about the kinds of jobs needed to build and maintain data centers and whether they have a big impact on how communities view a project. Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
So first of all, how do data centers actually drive employment for your members?
From an infrastructure perspective, these are massive hyperscale projects. They require extensive electrical infrastructure and really sophisticated cooling systems, work that will sustain our building trades workforce for years – and beyond, because as you probably see, these facilities often expand. Within the building trades, we see the most work on these projects. Our electricians and almost every other skilled trade you can think of, they’re on site not only building facilities but maintaining them after the fact.
We also view it through the lens of requiring our skilled trades to be there for ongoing maintenance, system upgrades, and emergency repairs.
What’s the access level for these jobs?
If you have a union signatory employer and you work for them, you will need to complete an apprenticeship to get the skills you need, or it can be through the union directly. It’s folks from all ranges of life, whether they’re just graduating from high school or, well, I was recently talking to an office manager who had a 50-year-old apprentice.
These apprenticeship programs are done at our training centers. They’re funded through contributions from our journey workers and from our signatory contractors. We have programs without taxpayer dollars and use our existing workforce to bring on the next generation.
Where’s the interest in these jobs at the moment? I’m trying to understand the extent to which potential employment benefits are welcomed by communities with data center development.
This is a hot topic right now. And it’s a complicated topic and an issue that’s evolving – technology is evolving. But what we do find is engagement from the trades is a huge benefit to these projects when they come to a community because we are the community. We have operated in Wisconsin for 130 years. Our partnership with our building trades unions is often viewed by local stakeholders as the first step of building trust, frankly; they know that when we’re on a project, it’s their neighbors getting good jobs and their kids being able to perhaps train in their own backyard. And local officials know our track record. We’re accountable to stakeholders.
We are a valuable player when we are engaged and involved in these sting decisions.
When do you get engaged and to what extent?
Everyone operates differently but we often get engaged pretty early on because, obviously, our workforce is necessary to build the project. They need the manpower, they need to talk to us early on about what pipeline we have for the work. We need to talk about build-out expectations and timelines and apprenticeship recruitment, so we’re involved early on. We’ve had notable partnerships, like Microsoft in southeast Wisconsin. They’re now the single largest taxpayer in Racine County. That project is now looking to expand.
When we are involved early on, it really shows what can happen. And there are incredible stories coming out of that job site every day about what that work has meant for our union members.
To what extent are some of these communities taking in the labor piece when it comes to data centers?
I think that’s a challenging question to answer because it varies on the individual person, on what their priority is as a member of a community. What they know, what they prioritize.
Across the board, again, we’re a known entity. We are not an external player; we live in these communities and often have training centers in them. They know the value that comes from our workers and the careers we provide.
I don’t think I’ve seen anyone who says that is a bad thing. But I do think there are other factors people are weighing when they’re considering these projects and they’re incredibly personal.
How do you reckon with the personal nature of this issue, given the employment of your members is also at stake? How do you grapple with that?
Well, look, we respect, over anything else, local decision-making. That’s how this should work.
We’re not here to push through something that is not embraced by communities. We are there to answer questions and good actors and provide information about our workforce, what it can mean. But these are decisions individual communities need to make together.
What sorts of communities are welcoming these projects, from your perspective?
That’s another challenging question because I think we only have a few to go off of here.
I would say more information earlier on the better. That’s true in any case, but especially with this. For us, when we go about our day-to-day activities, that is how our most successful projects work. Good communication. Time to think things through. It is very early days, so we have some great success stories we can point to but definitely more to come.
The number of data centers opposed in Republican-voting areas has risen 330% over the past six months.
It’s probably an exaggeration to say that there are more alligators than people in Colleton County, South Carolina, but it’s close. A rural swath of the Lowcountry that went for Trump by almost 20%, the “alligator alley” is nearly 10% coastal marshes and wetlands, and is home to one of the largest undeveloped watersheds in the nation. Only 38,600 people — about the population of New York’s Kew Gardens neighborhood — call the county home.
Colleton County could soon have a new landmark, though: South Carolina’s first gigawatt data center project, proposed by Eagle Rock Partners.
That’s if it overcomes mounting local opposition, however. Although the White House has drummed up data centers as the key to beating China in the race for AI dominance, Heatmap Pro data indicate that a backlash is growing from deep within President Donald Trump’s strongholds in rural America.
According to Heatmap Pro data, there are 129 embattled data centers located in Republican-voting areas. The vast majority of these counties are rural; just six occurred in counties with more than 1,000 people per square mile. That’s compared with 93 projects opposed in Democratic areas, which are much more evenly distributed across rural and more urban areas.
Most of this opposition is fairly recent. Six months ago, only 28 data centers proposed in low-density, Trump-friendly countries faced community opposition. In the past six months, that number has jumped by 95 projects. Heatmap’s data “shows there is a split, especially if you look at where data centers have been opposed over the past six months or so,” says Charlie Clynes, a data analyst with Heatmap Pro. “Most of the data centers facing new fights are in Republican places that are relatively sparsely populated, and so you’re seeing more conflict there than in Democratic areas, especially in Democratic areas that are sparsely populated.”
All in all, the number of data centers that have faced opposition in Republican areas has risen 330% over the past six months.
Our polling reflects the breakdown in the GOP: Rural Republicans exhibit greater resistance to hypothetical data center projects in their communities than urban Republicans: only 45% of GOP voters in rural areas support data centers being built nearby, compared with nearly 60% of urban Republicans.

Such a pattern recently played out in Livingston County, Michigan, a farming area that went 61% for President Donald Trump, and “is known for being friendly to businesses.” Like Colleton County, the Michigan county has low population density; last fall, hundreds of the residents of Howell Township attended public meetings to oppose Meta’s proposed 1,000-acre, $1 billion AI training data center in their community. Ultimately, the uprising was successful, and the developer withdrew the Livingston County project.
Across the five case studies I looked at today for The Fight — in addition to Colleton and Livingston Counties, Carson County, Texas; Tucker County, West Virginia; and Columbia County, Georgia, are three other red, rural examples of communities that opposed data centers, albeit without success — opposition tended to be rooted in concerns about water consumption, noise pollution, and environmental degradation. Returning to South Carolina for a moment: One of the two Colleton residents suing the county for its data center-friendly zoning ordinance wrote in a press release that he is doing so because “we cannot allow” a data center “to threaten our star-filled night skies, natural quiet, and enjoyment of landscapes with light, water, and noise pollution.” (In general, our polling has found that people who strongly oppose clean energy are also most likely to oppose data centers.)
Rural Republicans’ recent turn on data centers is significant. Of 222 data centers that have faced or are currently facing opposition, the majority — 55% —are located in red low-population-density areas. Developers take note: Contrary to their sleepy outside appearances, counties like South Carolina’s alligator alley clearly have teeth.