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Russ Vought could jeopardize the next decade of climate science. But who is he?

It is my sincere belief that, as with many aspects of governance, thinking about climate policy bores former President Donald Trump. He is not without his hobbyhorses — wind turbines are ugly bird-killers; it’s freezing in New York, so where the hell is global warming? — but on the whole, I tend to agree with the assessment that he basically believes “nothing” on climate change. Trump simply isn’t all that interested. He prefers to let the others do the thinking for him.
This isn’t a knock on Trump, per se; part of leading a bureaucracy as big and as complicated as the United States government is surrounding yourself with people who can offload some of that thinking for you. But the crucial question then becomes: Who is doing that thinking?
The answer, to a large extent, is Russ Vought.
The name might not immediately ring a bell. Biographical details of the 48-year-old career bureaucrat can be hard to find (“a native of Trumbull, Connecticut,” “the youngest of seven children,” “a die-hard Yankees fan”), giving the impression that Vought came out of nowhere. In a sense, he did: For years, Vought dealt mainly with spreadsheets as he worked first as a budget staffer for Texas Republican Sen. Phil Gramm and Rep. Jeb Hensarling, then later for then-Rep. Mike Pence, and eventually the Heritage Foundation. It was Gramm, though, who gave Vought his outlook on the world: “If you do budget, you do everything.”
After a stint with the Trump transition team, Vought became deputy director of the Office of Management and Budget in 2018, and took over entirely in 2019. At OMB, he famously held up military aid to Ukraine in what became the subject of Trump’s first impeachment. Described as “ideological in the extreme,” “adversarial” with his colleagues, and having an “aggressive personal style” — incongruous, perhaps, with his somewhat nerdy, bespectacled appearance — Vought would reportedly go too far in proposed budget cuts sometimes even for his boss.
After Biden’s win in 2020, Vought launched the Center for American Restoration, a pro-Trump think tank with the mission of renewing “a consensus of America as a nation under God,” and has otherwise kept busy with appearances on conservative-friendly talk shows on One America News Network and Fox News. Steve Bannon has approvingly dubbed him “MAGA’s bulldog,” though he rarely speaks to the mainstream press. (I received a failed delivery message in response to an email to the address listed on the website for the Center for American Restoration; other attempts to contact Vought went unanswered.)
Vought is all but assured to take up a powerful position in a potential incoming Trump cabinet. He “trained up during the first Trump administration, and he is looking to apply those skills that he learned in a second,” said Alex Witt, the senior advisor for oil and gas at Climate Power, a strategic communications group that shared its research on Vought with me.
Vought may not be the most obvious architect for the project of dismantling climate progress, however. In Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation’s roadmap for the next Republican president, Vought authored the chapter on the Office of the President of the United States — hardly the most climate-y section, given that there are also chapters on reforming the Environmental Protection Agency, the Department of Energy, and the Department of the Interior. A flurry of new articles about Vought describe him as a Christian nationalist crusader preoccupied with fending off big government and orchestrating an expansion of presidential powers.
But just as Trump advisor Stephen Miller shaped far-right immigration policies from behind the scenes, Vought would be a hidden hand in a future administration dismantling climate progress. In his chapter in Project 2025, for example, Vought proposes moving the National Defense Strategy from under the purview of the Defense Department to the White House and its National Security Council — normal “expansion of presidential powers” stuff. But Vought goes even further, directing the NSC then to “rigorously review” the staff with an eye for “climate change … and other polarizing policies that weaken our armed force.”
Erin Sikorsky, the director of the Center for Climate and Security, told me that such a proposal indicates “a misunderstanding of how connected climate hazards are to the core duties of what the military is focused on.” It could also put the U.S. armed forces on the back foot in conflicts around the world if it’s followed through. As just one example, if the military isn’t engaging with its Indo-Pacific partners “and helping those countries build resilience to climate change, then China is more than happy to step in and address that,” Sikorsky warned. At home, NSC analyses of the domestic impacts of climate change will likely come to a halt, scuttling future coordination between the military and local governments after disasters and hampering mitigation efforts around the country.
The most significant blow on the climate front, however, would come from Vought’s proposal to reinstate Schedule F, a job classification that aims to convert at least 50,000 career civil servants to “at-will” political employees. (Trump used an executive order to implement Schedule F at the very end of his term; President Biden unimplemented it soon after taking office.) The employment classification ostensibly aims to make it easier to replace “rogue” or “woke” civil servants and would-be whistleblowers, a.k.a. “the deep state,” with party-line faithful. But in the words of Vought himself, Schedule F is also necessary because Biden’s “climate fanaticism will need a whole-of-government unwinding.”
The effects of such a decision, experts told me, could range from very bad to disastrous self-sabotage. Schedule F is “designed to be a tool to purge federal agencies of nonpartisan experts” and replace them with “partisan loyalists who would willingly follow any order without question, regardless of whether it was legal, constitutional, or the right thing to do for the people,” Joe Spielberger, the policy counsel at the Project on Government Oversight, an independent and nonpartisan watchdog group, told me. In practice, that might mean firing longtime civil servants perceived as not loyal enough, or even just “creating and perpetuating a climate of fear and intimidation where people are not able or willing to speak out when they see abuse of power and other corruption happening.”
Such a scenario is concerning for employees at agencies like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration who work on climate modeling. But the expertise of the U.S. civil service is broad and deep; Schedule F could impact everyone from the economists, lawyers, and engineers who work on something like the Corporate Average Fuel Economy standards to the people who sit on the Clean Air Scientific Advisory Committee.
“Civil service positions are not classified as political appointees for a reason, which is so that staff, especially scientists, can do work that spans administrations because it is so fundamental to public health and welfare,” Chitra Kumar, the Union of Concerned Scientists’ managing director for climate and energy, told me in an email. The people made fireable under Schedule F, in other words, are the ones who actually know what is going on, whereas “elected officials come and go, often taking a year or more to understand the latest underlying science.”
Reimplementing and expanding Schedule F, however, is apparently one of Vought’s greatest ambitions. Earlier this year, the National Treasury Employees Union obtained documents via a Freedom of Information Act request that showed Vought’s intent to apply the status to much of OMB’s workforce in 2020. As justification for taking an implicit machete to his staff, Vought writes in Project 2025 that “it is the president’s agenda that should matter to the departments and agencies that operate under his constitutional authority,” but that instead, the U.S. civil service is “all too often … carrying out its own policy plans and preferences — or, worse yet, the policy plans and preferences of a radical, supposedly ‘woke’ faction of the country.”
Ann Carlson, the former acting administrator of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and a professor of environmental law at UCLA, strongly refutes Vought’s claim. For one thing, she told me that the great irony of the Schedule F proposal is that it would make it more difficult for the Trump administration to carry out its goals in the long run.
“Part of the problem for a conservative administration is, if you want to roll back policies that are in place, you need people who know how to do that,” Carlson pointed out. She also bristled at the suggestion that civil servants are unable to check their biases at the door: Carlson’s team at NHTSA helped put together the Biden administration’s rules to strengthen fuel economy standards, but it also worked to roll back the Obama administration’s regulations and replaced them with the SAFE standards under Trump. “I don’t actually know, for most of them, which one they preferred,” Carlson said.
Carlson wasn’t the only former political appointee I spoke with who fiercely defended the integrity of her staff. Ron Sanders, a three-year Trump appointee, so vehemently opposed Schedule F when it was briefly implemented in 2020 that he resigned as chairman of the Federal Salary Council. Today, he represents a group of Republican former national security officials who are imploring Congress to find a middle ground between the current status quo and the extreme political loyalty demanded by Schedule F.
When I read Sanders the part of Vought’s Project 2025 chapter that calls for weeding out the “radical, supposedly ‘woke’ faction of the country,” he told me that such thinking is “myopic.” “This is potentially a Republican administration coming in and finding ‘Democrats’ in place,” Sanders said. “You could say the same thing about the Biden administration, but they knew better — they knew that senior career officials appointed in the Trump administration are still politically neutral. It just happened to be a matter of timing.”
It likewise struck me as curious that Vought would push so hard for a policy that would not only hamstring the Trump administration but might also allow future Democratic presidents to carry out purges of perceived conservative government operatives.
The Biden administration has made moves to prevent Schedule F from potentially returning under a different president. Still, Spielberger from the Project on Government Oversight told me that short of a legislative fix by Congress, such actions will only delay reimplementation of the policy by “a matter of months” should Trump be reelected. The damage to climate science from four years of Schedule F, however, could be drastic.
“What we’re going to end up with is an executive branch that’s just uninformed,” Daniel Farber, the director of the Center for Law, Energy, and the Environment at the University of California, Berkeley, stressed to me. Farber’s fear is not just that “a bunch of uninformed ideologues” would be running the show, but also that once government experts are kicked out, it will be difficult to replace them or entice them to return.
“Even after we go back to a Democratic president, you can’t wave a wand and get all those people back,” Farber said. In the first nine months of the Trump administration, for example, the EPA lost more than 700 employees — and that was due to poor morale and high turnover even without the threat of Schedule F.
Schedule F doesn’t just chase out climate-related experts from the government. It also accelerates the revolving door that allows anti-climate zealots actors in. Both the Heritage Foundation and Vought’s think tank, the Center for American Restoration, have taken money from Big Oil groups and executives. Trump has already made his own transactional assurances to the industry if it funds his return to the White House. Schedule F, meanwhile, would open up hundreds if not thousands of positions for unqualified political operatives — essentially creating a “spoils system” where the lines between government and private industry would blur more than they already do.
“Russ Vought is not the problem,” Witt, of Climate Power, told me. “The problem is Donald Trump: Donald and the GOP are bought out by Big Oil, and Vought and other bad actors are a cog in that machine.”
It’s a metaphor that works well for the federal government, too: What happens when you have 50,000 cogs, but the person you’ve deferred to run the machine has fired all the mechanics?
“You take out all that expertise, all the people who understand how the system works?” Carlson, the former NHTSA director, said. “Good luck to you.”
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Talking with National Grid’s Matthew Satterwhite about his new report with S&P Global.
This week’s conversation is with Matthew Satterwhite, head of U.S. policy for National Grid. This week National Grid released a report in collaboration with S&P Global I found noteworthy amidst the data center backlash, asserting that building new transmission lines can potentially reduce consumer costs. I reached out asking if we could chat about how this argument leans into the fight over hyperscale infrastructure. I found our conversation illuminating and educational.
The following Q&A was lightly edited for clarity.
Why did you make this report?
It’s all focused on our customers. We’re always looking to find ways to make sure we can provide our service in the most affordable way possible, the most efficient way possible, and we always think of transmission, but it’s fallen out of favor recently. There’s so much demand with large loads, data centers, advanced manufacturing, reshoring. There’s such a need, and a lot of the debate has been focused on what we need on the generation side. We think transmission is an answer, as well.
We focused on what we have control over — since we’re in deregulated states, the only generation we’re doing is to help states reach their renewable goals. It’s a real page-turner. We really get to the core of everything.
Can we lower customer bills with transmission? This report actually showed us that’s a good investment and helps with the resource adequacy and the constraint problems we have in the Northeast. You can bring cheaper electricity in.
With respect to concerns for everyday consumers, how much do you feel like new transmission might alleviate ordinary Americans’ concerns about rising energy prices?
When you look at the demand that’s coming, the projection is that by 2035, we’ll have to add 45 gigawatts, currently. We’re on that path right now. Transmission alone isn’t going to meet that, but the question is, how do we temper that down? What do we do as National Grid to help alleviate the need for all that demand? Can we get that somewhere else rather than in the region by building generation? It's a different version of all of the above. It’s not a generation single answer or a transmission single answer. We think transmission is a big part of that.
This also allows you to bring in cleaner energy from other places. The more robust the network is, you can have energy in different places and bring that in. It replaces the need for some of the generation to be built and pays for itself by creating a cheaper return for customers adding this.
How much of the data center backlash is affecting your transmission project planning calculus? How is it changing what lines are built in the country?
We’re focused on how we can provide the cheapest service for our customers and physics. It’s science and long-term planning. We don’t have the luxury — we can’t follow, this month we’re thinking something, someone got mad, and so we’re thinking something else. We study a lot of science and physics to figure out how to build the grid.
Do you feel like the average Joe Schmoe American sees transmission as making their life less expensive and making their electricity more reliable?
I think there’s frustration and a lack of understanding about the industry overall. There’s fear of the unknown. Are data centers really driving everything that’s happening? That’s where I think, with reports like this, the benefit of it will be that people will read this and see there’s other things we can do to address the load that we need, something different than building a bunch of generation plants.
How do the question marks around whether data centers get built affect transmission planning? How much harder is the backlash making your job?
It’s a science question. Do we do a bunch of work and then nothing happens? That’s why states put their policies out. There’s multiple studies you go through with a region and with a utility. I think that’s one reason why you see states slowing down, to make sure the policy is in check so people don’t do work they don’t need to do. It’s about having the policy to make sure, if you’re studying something, you’re doing it with a purpose.
Plus more of the week’s biggest development fights.
1. Clark County, Nevada – The first data center approved on federal lands has hit a legal brick wall.
2. Jackson County, Missouri – We have yet another high-profile case of a city councilor losing their job over voting for a data center, and this one’s a doozy.
3. Utah – What’s it take for the Bureau of Land Management to approve a big transmission line for zero-emission energy generation these days? Geothermal, baby.
4. Huntsville, Alabama – You can’t even build a tiny battery storage facility in the middle of Alabama anymore.
Where temporary moratoria could happen next.
Brace yourself for more statewide data center moratoria.
So far there are only two full state-wide blocks on data center permits, in New York and Texas. At least fifteen states have moratorium legislation in the pipeline, but few if any of those bills stand a chance of becoming law in the short term. Here are five states, however, where a broad development pause may gain momentum in the next year or two — and all of them are crucial to watch this November.
If you blinked you may have missed it: New Hampshire Governor Kelly Ayotte, a Republican, said she wants to enact a statewide data center moratorium.
Ayotte first came out in support of a pause last month at a Rotary Club meeting, declaring, “It does not make any sense at all to site a data center in New Hampshire.” She also reportedly plans to include a moratorium proposal in her upcoming 2027 fiscal budget. New Hampshire’s legislative sessions occur in the first half of the year, so we won’t see action on a moratorium bill this fall. But Ayotte’s statements suggest the Granite State — which is controlled by the GOP — could pivot to a pause very soon.
New Hampshire has very few data centers. Like, almost none. Only two project fights exist in the Heatmap Pro database, both in Portsmouth, and each has been canceled amidst opposition. Ayotte’s remarks were prompted by the fight against a hyperscale project being studied in the small town of Bow at a former coal plant that closed in late 2025.
None of this should surprise anyone familiar with New England NIMBYs. A New Hampshire moratorium also makes sense given the state’s proximity to Maine, which almost had one of its own. Ayotte, who is up for re-election this year, is likely looking at the political fortunes of Governor Janet Mills and trying to avoid potholes ahead of a likely blue wave hitting her state.
This week, Arizona Attorney General Kris Mayes, a Democrat, came out in support of a statewide data center moratorium.
Mayes told Arizonans in a public statement on Monday that she wants to avoid undue strain on the electric grid and adding to the burden of water cuts led by the Trump administration. Phoenix, where opposition grows by the day, seems to be the primary reason. This shouldn’t in any way be a surprise given the backlash to these projects, which in Arizona’s case is rooted in legitimate water security concerns.
One of the first high-profile data center conflicts I ever learned about was in Arizona: Project Blue, which had to move on from the city of Tucson after officials voted it down last summer. That led Amazon to bail from the facility, though it’s still under development elsewhere on county land. Locals are deeply concerned about the water impacts.
Ordinarily an attorney general wouldn’t have any sway on legislative or executive policy, but the state is already quite receptive to restricting data center development. Governor Katie Hobbs has enacted a three-year pause on tax abatements for data centers, and in response to requests for comment on Mayes’ statement, has told media she’s working on more policies targeting the sector. Hobbs has said she will do more in the following legislative session, but it’s not clear what.
The real decisive action here is probably going to be legislation, and that will depend on the reception any moratorium finds with Republicans in the state legislature, which is typically split in this purple state. The Arizona GOP is quite pro-industry, and Mayes’ opponent in her race for re-election opposes restricting data center construction.
You really should get to know the name Cindy Holscher for the next two months.
Holscher, a state senator, won a surprise upset victory in the Democratic gubernatorial primary this year, and currently sits within a one-point margin of her Republican opponent. How’d she get the nom? By calling for a statewide data center moratorium. “It reminds me of when the automobile manufacturers had to put seatbelts into their cars,“ Holscher told MSNOW after she won the primary. “We as a people and as a state just need to make sure there are guardrails in place.”
Kansas politics are weird. The state is best known as a conservative ideological bastion that’s pro-business. Full Republican control of the Kansas government during the Obama era led to significant social services cuts most closely associated with former Governor Sam Brownback. But after that, Kansans seemed to like moderate Democratic governors, electing Laura Kelly in 2022. Kelly is now term limited out of office.
Kansas already has a colorful patchwork of local data center and renewable energy restrictions. Land use is a big deal in this agricultural behemoth. Should Holscher win in a blue wave year, she would have a mandate to enact a statewide moratorium. Still, Republicans control the legislature, and that’s unlikely to change. My major questions are, should Holscher win, would the GOP in state government listen to Holscher’s request? Or can she do this through the executive branch?
Politics nerds are obsessing over Ohio right now. There, Trump acolyte Vivek Ramaswamy is neck-and-neck in the polls for governor with a Democratic candidate who backs a “conditional” data center moratorium: Amy Acton.
What’s a conditional moratorium? It’s in the eye of the beholder, really. Technically speaking, Governor Josh Shapiro instituted a conditional moratorium in Pennsylvania, where data center projects cannot get permits unless they meet very specific standards set by the governor himself. Shapiro did it through executive action, but in this case, it’s unclear whether the moratorium will be codified through that process or through law.
Should Acton win — or if former Senator Sherrod Brown defeats sitting Senator Jon Husted in the U.S. Senate race — I anticipate major legislative action on data centers in Ohio. Republicans there have essentially permanent control of the state legislature, and they’ve historically been pro-data center. But the freakout over opposition to artificial intelligence and hyperscalers in the senate race specifically has spooked national Republicans, who think it provided the opening Brown needed to potentially win back his seat. Acton and Brown’s political fortunes appear to be wedded to one another, linked to a general angst in the American public.
Every top 5 list needs a wild card, and mine is Oklahoma.
Currently, there’s minimal risk of a data center moratorium. I might’ve had this state higher on my list had Gentner Drummond won the runoff for the GOP gubernatorial primary, given his proclivity to side with anti-renewables activists who also oppose data centers. Instead, likely future governor Mike Mazzei is running on a more moderate, Trump-friendly approach to data centers centered on maintaining industry growth while protecting ratepayers from new infrastructure costs. His opponent, Cyndi Munson, supports a one-year moratorium.
I consider Oklahoma’s odds of having a data center moratorium about equal to the chance of a statewide wind energy ban. Momentum for anti-wind legislation began in the state legislature, and I expect the same to happen with data centers. But unlike the wind industry, which has enormous power in the state, data centers are still a nascent industry. This is a place that may take about two or three years to manifest full cultural upheaval over these projects.