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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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The Iran War laid bare the two energy regimes fighting for global dominance.
We have an Iran deal. We think. Since President Trump and Iran announced the arrangement on Sunday afternoon, its details have had a Heisenbergian quality — not even Israeli leaders seem to be sure what they are. From an energy markets standpoint, Trump told The New York Times on Sunday that the text guarantees “permanently toll-free” access to the Strait of Hormuz, but it remains unclear how and when the waterway will reopen.
What we do know is that some version of the deal is set to be signed on Friday. At the same time, the U.S. and Iran will start 60 days of “technical negotiations” to discuss Iran’s nuclear program and sanctions relief, according to Vice President JD Vance. “A lot of very important details” have yet to be figured out, Vance told reporters on Monday. If Iran doesn’t agree to give up its nuclear program in those talks, Trump told the Times yesterday, he would either order bombing to restart or make the United States “the guardian of the Middle East” in exchange for oil revenues. (So much for toll-free access! At least then CENTCOM could establish a hotline.)
Regardless, it may take weeks for Iran to remove its sea mines from the strait. Then ships and their exhausted crews will begin trickling out of the Persian Gulf. My colleague Matthew Zeitlin has the full rundown on what will happen next in Iran — and what it means for oil, natural gas, and the energy transition.
But let’s assume, for a moment, that the war really is over. What did we learn from the past 107 days of conflict?
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For me, the most astonishing thing about the conflict remains that China, which used to buy 11 million barrels of oil a day from global markets, only imported about 7.8 million barrels a day in May. That’s just over 3 million barrels a day of demand, seemingly vaporized overnight. (For context, the world used about 104 million barrels a day last year.) China’s enormous domestic oil and gas stockpiles and its high concentration of electric vehicles seem to have produced the cut — as did a domestic increase in energy prices that helped dampen demand on its own.
For the past few years, climate and energy journalists like me have hammered that China’s solar, battery, and electric vehicle manufacturing complex is the real deal. But the war clarified that the world now has two real and rivalrous energy regimes. There is the oil-and-gas regime, heavily concentrated in the OPEC+ countries and North America, and there is the electricity-and-batteries regime, located in East Asia and especially China.
These systems are linked and interdependent, yet in competition for consumer demand — as well as policy-driven and infrastructural lock-in from countries. The United States is the lynchpin of the former system: Not only is it the world’s No. 1 producer of oil and natural gas, but it also (allegedly) guarantees security and freedom of navigation in the Middle East. China anchors the electric regime: Not only does it dominate the manufacturing of solar panels, wind turbines, lithium-ion batteries, and electric vehicles, but it also owns or refines the minerals essential to their production. While America can boast better petroleum engineers than anywhere else in the world, China has the manufacturing know-how necessary to spin off new innovations. Each country, in other words, dominates the stocks, flows, and knowledge that drive these planet-spanning regimes.
To be clear, I don’t agree with the interpretation — sometimes in vogue — that the United States is a “petrostate” while China is an “electrostate.” America has a much more diversified economy than most petrostates; oil makes up 10% to 15% of our dollar-denominated goods exports and an even smaller share of our overall exports. In Saudi Arabia, by comparison, oil is more than 70% of goods exports. Nor do I think “electrostate” evokes the reality that China, notwithstanding its world-historic renewables buildout, still gets 60% of its power from coal.
Much still unites these systems too — notably the petrochemicals sector, which produces from oil and gas the necessary inputs to solar, batteries, and EVs. But that’s why China’s coal-to-chemicals sector — which I previously discussed on our podcast Shift Key with the energy analyst Lauri Myllyvirta — has played such an important role during the past few months, allowing the country to cut crude demand without slowing down production lines. Given that the coal-to-chemicals industry is more carbon intensive than the sector it ostensibly replaces — and that India is already looking at developing its own version of the sector — I suspect we’ve only heard the beginning of it. We’ll examine it more in the days and weeks to come.
And it’ll take energy markets even longer.
The United States and Iran have agreed on a process that could result in the end of their armed conflict and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz. Both countries have signed the agreement, U.S. officials told reporters, though the text itself has yet to be released.
The markets, at least, are taking the deal and the promises that the strait will reopen at face value. Benchmark oil prices are now at around $83 per barrel, down slightly from $87 Friday, when traders expected that the U.S. and Iran would soon reach a deal.
“I hereby fully authorize the toll free opening of the Strait of Hormuz, and, simultaneously herewith, authorize the immediate removal of the United States Naval blockade. Ships of the World, start your engines. Let the oil flow!” Trump posted Sunday afternoon on Truth Social.
But that will not happen immediately. No matter what the United States and Iran say, it’s shippers and insurers who will make the final determination of whether the strait is truly open.
For that they will need assurances that Iran means it when it says that vessels are free to sail through, and that it won’t try to impose tolls or force ships through specific routes. “Are the Iranians going to try and control passage?” Robin Mills, chief executive officer of Qamar Energy and non-resident fellow at the Columbia University Center on Global Energy Policy, a consulting and advisory firm in the United Arab Emirates, asked me rhetorically.
This need for evidence of good faith on both sides was a theme of my conversations about the peace deal on Monday.
“The key problem isn’t whether or not the Iranians or the U.S. says the strait is open,” oil analyst Rory Johnston told me. “It is whether shippers — ships that are trapped in the Gulf, as well as ships that are waiting to move into the Gulf — have made the determination that the strait is safe for transit.”
Though some countries were able to divert substantial flows through pipeline networks to avoid the strait, that represented a relatively small amount of Gulf oil production. Johnston has estimated that of the 20 million barrels per day of oil and products that flowed through the Strait before the war, some 13 million to 15 million barrels per day worth of production have been “shut in,” meaning that they were never extracted from the ground.
Even with a peace process underway, the Gulf oil complex won’t be fully operational until ships can first get out of the Strait of Hormuz unencumbered, then get back in to pick up oil shipments, which Johnston estimates won’t happen until the beginning of next month. Some of this is just a judgement call, one that some shippers had already made before the weekend’s announcement.
“There’s been a fairly steady stream of ships that have been exiting the strait by going dark and traveling at night,” Johnston said, “so there is already an understanding for some shipping companies and some regional states that you can transit the waterway safely.”
The number of ships chancing a transit roughly correlates with the temperature of the rhetoric between the U.S. and Iran over the past few weeks. “A total of 29 verified vessel crossings were recorded through the Strait of Hormuz between 10 and 14 June,” according to the maritime analytics service Kpler said Monday. “The data aligns with reports of progress in U.S.-Iran discussions and supports the assessment that the Strait remains operational, although traffic volumes, route transparency and directional balance have yet to return to a clearly normalised pattern.”
The volumes getting through are still far off their pre-war totals, however. In the first two weeks of June, J.P. Morgan analysts estimated Hormuz flows at just over 5 million barrels per day, although about a sixth of that was likely Iranian shipments at risk of being interceded by the U.S. blockade. While that an improvement from around 3 million barrels per day in April and March, it was still well short of the 15 million to 20 million barrels per day of crude oil and petroleum products flowing through the strait before the war began in February.
The ships that have sailed the strait have largely hugged the Omani coast, according to Eurasia Group energy analyst Greg Brew, or else going through close to the Iran side, which is directly controlled by the country’s military. Three months’ worth of shooting (and mining), however, have made the central artery a no go. “There’s no certainty as to whether there are mines, how many there are, and where they are, and that matters in terms of restoring security of transit through the main waterway,” Brew told me.
The portions of the channel that offer safe passage “are not good routes for the largest ships, especially for big container ships and the largest tankers,” Brew added. Clearing the strait will likely involve navies from outside the region, including European fleets and “potentially” China, he said, many of which have ships in the area “specifically equipped for clearing mines.”
That process is likely to be iterative, Johnston told me. “It’s not like there are mines or there are not mines across the entire area,” he said. Instead, he told me, certain widths of the strait will be judged to be mine-free, allowing for safe passage, and that width will expand over time. Brew estimated that it will take two to three weeks to complete that process.
Getting the tankers back in should give oil producers the confidence to restart operations, Johnston said. “But then the challenge becomes how much upstream infrastructure was damaged,” he said. Even if the extraction infrastructure is functional, so-called “downstream” refining infrastructure could still be down, meaning that crude oil production could recover before refined products like gasoline or petroleum liquids begin returning to their previous levels.
As for how long it will take to get back up to full production, Brew told me that will vary country by country. In the short run, Gulf oil producers can pull from existing inventories of oil, with Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, which never fully shut down production, getting back to full flows in a few weeks. Iraq and Kuwait, which had to more severely curtail production, may take a few months.
Governments and companies will eventually have to rebuild their oil and natural gas stockpiles after drawing on them extensively to keep fuel prices from spiking. Among rich nations, inventories have sunk to levels not seen since depths of the post-9/11 conflict in 2003, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. The United States’ Strategic Petroleum Reserve had around 415 million barrels of oil before the war began, and has since fallen to around 350 million barrels, the lowest level since 1983.
All told, Johnston told me, “well over” a billion barrels of global fuel reserves have been used up since the war began.
Refilling these inventories — or, for countries newly interested in energy security, establishing them — will be a long-run addition to demand for oil, which could keep prices from falling as sharply as they might have otherwise. “We’re probably going to have two, three years of structurally higher demand as people try to restock,” Johnston said.
But the course of the war has defied risks of prices spiking higher. “This war was the biggest supply disruption in history, and oil had a hard time staying above $100 a barrel,” Brew said. “That implies that the structural factors inside the market are more keeping prices low than pulling prices high.”
A new Searchlight Institute report joins a growing chorus arguing that corporate climate targets do more harm than good.
When Jane Flegal was working in market development for Frontier Climate, a $1 billion initiative to catalyze advances in carbon removal, she had what she called a “radicalizing experience.”
Frontier went out to corporate sustainability teams, selling them on large carbon removal offtake agreements with vetted startups that were developing technologies to suck measurable amounts of carbon directly out of the air. These were more expensive than the carbon offsets companies could buy to support forest conservation or clean cookstoves in Africa, but the investment would support innovation important for fighting climate change. In return, the companies would eventually be able to count the resulting carbon removal toward their net zero emissions targets.
Most companies, however, were more concerned about the cost. “We were trying to get companies to spend more than $1,000 per ton on a new technology we know the world needs,” Flegal told me. “Making that pitch to a corporation when they could also just go make the exact same claim with a $4-a-ton carbon offset credit was a crazy-making experience.”
The revelation, for Flegal, was that the prevailing paradigm for corporate climate action — a single-minded focus on carbon accounting — was not just inadequate, but actively harmful to bringing about the systems-level change required to decarbonize the economy. It incentivized companies to optimize for reducing their individual carbon footprints and failed to recognize the arguably more impactful contributions they could be making to systems change. “Most of the best things they could be doing are just not legible at all in the existing accounting frameworks,” she said.
Flegal fleshed out her critique in a paper published Monday by the Searchlight Institute, a center-left think tank where she is now a senior fellow. The data center boom has exacerbated these perverse incentives, she argues. Tech companies are pursuing corporate power purchase agreements to fulfill their individual clean energy commitments, but mostly failing to help break down the structural barriers to decarbonizing the grid, such as transmission constraints and interconnection backlogs.
The paper challenges the logic of treating a “complex, global, sociotechnical problem as if it were a matter of property rights,” where investors and the public expect companies to own their individual carbon messes. Flegal proposes some alternative measures by which to evaluate corporate climate ambition. One is the quality of a company’s investments — are they causing more clean energy or crucial climate infrastructure to get built than would be otherwise based on market conditions? How many miles of transmission have they financed, or policy proceedings have they influenced? She also calls for companies to be explicit about their theory of change and report how they are taking action consistent with that theory.
“I recognize that these are not perfect metrics, but let’s be real, neither are the ones we have today,” she told me. “The danger of the ones we have today is that they imply a false precision that could be worse for climate outcomes than just being honest about uncertainty.”
The climate community has always fought about carbon accounting, but recently the quarrel has reached a fever pitch. The Greenhouse Gas Protocol, a nonprofit that sets voluntary standards for how companies should measure their emissions, is in the middle of overhauling its rules, a process that has sparked major schisms over how to account for companies’ clean electricity purchases, the carbon stored in forests, and other complex aspects of corporate carbon bookkeeping.
At the same time, the Science Based Targets Initiative, a separate group that acts as an arbiter of whether companies’ climate plans are consistent with the goal of limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius, has been updating its own standard for “corporate net zero.” A third group, the International Organization for Standardization, is also revising its greenhouse gas reporting rulebooks.
The challenge across all of these efforts is developing standards that are scientifically rigorous but not so rigid as to discourage companies from acting. Companies are lobbying these revision processes to get the rules they want, but many experts worry the outcomes will enable greenwashing.
Flegal joins a growing chorus of thought leaders arguing that this system that feigns precision and prioritizes compliance with an impossible bottom line risks pushing companies away from doing anything at all. Some propose getting rid of individual carbon targets altogether in favor of more qualitative reporting, while others advocate for creating a separate space for companies to earn recognition for their harder-to-measure “contributions” to fighting climate change.
In September, Michael Gillenwater, the executive director of the Greenhouse Gas Management Institute, who has been working on carbon accounting issues for more than 20 years, called for a “paradigm shift” in corporate climate reporting. He and Derik Broekhoff of the Stockholm Environment Institute, another 20-year soldier in this space, argue that boiling down a company’s climate impact to a single inventory of emissions traps “companies in a ’doom loop’ where they are simultaneously criticized for not taking full responsibility for indirect emissions and for greenwashing when they attempt to address these emissions through market-based mechanisms,” such as renewable energy certificates.
They propose instead a “multi-statement” reporting framework in which companies would separate their actual, physical emissions from their investments in carbon offsets, renewable energy certificates, and other market-based tools for climate mitigation. This system reframes carbon credits from “compensating” for a company’s ongoing emissions to playing a more philanthropic role in achieving global net zero and “eliminates the perception that companies can be absolved of responsibility through offsetting,” they write. They also propose a third section where companies would report on remaining barriers to decarbonizing their particular business. Companies could set targets for each section individually, but would not be allowed to combine them into a single performance metric.
Robert Hoglund, the co-founder of the carbon removal tracking site CDR.fyi and head of climate at Milkywire, a corporate advisory firm, published yet another idea in a paper earlier this month. He and his co-author argue that the distinction existing frameworks make between a company’s “direct” and “indirect” emissions doesn’t actually illuminate what’s within its control to reduce. They recommend companies split their net zero targets into two categories, separating “unconditional” emissions cuts — those that are currently feasible — from “conditional” reductions, or those that depend on changes in policy, infrastructure, technoeconomics, etc.
Creating a conditional target “does not make it optional,” they write. “It creates an obligation to help build the world the target assumes. That means policy advocacy, supplier engagement, financing climate solutions, supporting carbon removal, and other system-changing actions are not side activities but flow from the target itself.”
The Science Based Targets Initiative published its new net zero standard this past week, and it appears to adopt at least some of the ideas Flegal, Gillenwater, and Hoglund proposed — namely, attention to systemic constraints. It shifts from looking only at absolute emission reductions to recognizing companies for putting their “best efforts” toward net zero. It stops short, however, of explaining how SBTi will judge what counts as a “best effort.” It also allows companies to use some kinds of carbon certificates to lower their emissions on paper.
Based on an initial read, Hoglund told me he thought SBTi made some positive changes. Flegal hadn’t had a chance to dig into them yet when we spoke. Another critic I spoke to was less pleased.
If Lisa Sachs, the director of Columbia University’s Center on Sustainable Investment, had her way, companies would get rid of net zero targets altogether. She published her own treatise on the subject in May, pointing out that corporate net zero “relies on a mistaken aggregation logic.” It assumes that if every company works to reduce, offset, or neutralize their own emissions, the efforts will sum up to global net zero. Like Flegal, she told me that not only is that impossible without systems change, but she fears that company-level net zero goals “disincentivize the things companies can and should do that would have maximum systems impact.”
While it’s relatively common today for companies to talk openly about the systemic barriers they face in decarbonizing, it’s much more rare for them to say what they’re doing about it. I asked Flegal whether she truly believed sustainability officers would be able to get CEO approval for investments in “systems change,” which is more difficult to break down into clear KPIs.
She pointed out that a lot of companies already make significant philanthropic investments, and this could be put in that bucket. In some cases, like when grid constraints are a barrier to powering a new facility, they could argue that investing in transmission lines is a strategic move and not just part of their climate commitment.
Actions like lobbying in support of regulatory reform and other policy changes seem like a harder sell. The investor-led initiative Climate Action 100+ tracks how companies are attempting to influence climate-related policy debates, and has consistently found that few companies — just 2%, in the latest count — align their lobbying activities with their climate goals.
Reading these papers took me back to 2019 and 2020, when many companies first made net zero commitments. In one sense, it felt like a sea change — all these powerful corporations publicly dedicating themselves to a net zero future — but it was also dubious. They all seemed to have a different definition of what “net zero” meant. For some oil and gas companies, it meant zero-ing out the emissions from their operations, but not from the oil and gas they sold. A lot of companies made the pledge without providing any details about how they would achieve it. SBTi started developing its first net zero standard in 2020 to address this problem by creating a common definition and set of expectations. While having SBTi validate a company’s net zero target is entirely voluntary, more than 11,000 companies have done it.
When I mentioned this history to Flegal and Sachs, they countered that the problem SBTi is trying to address is downstream of the actual problem — that a voluntary net zero framework for companies creates incentives that are not aligned with what really matters for decarbonization.
Both also raised the opportunity cost of the enormous intellectual and financial capital that has gone into refining all of these accounting methodologies and producing reams of reporting to comply with them. “All of these organizations and rule setters for the rule setters for the rule setters, I think we’ve gotten lost in the sauce a bit,” Flegal said.
“These frameworks have become a business — literally a business, in SBTi’s case,” Sachs said, since it has a for-profit arm that validates companies’ reporting for a fee. “I’d rather have a few leaders who raise the tide than to have 11,000 companies aligned with SBTi, and to be finding ourselves in five years figuring out another way to lower the standard.”