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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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Rep. Jeff Van Drew was defeated by ... another wind opponent.
Democrat Zack Mullock unseated Representative Jeff Van Drew, one of offshore wind’s biggest foes, on Tuesday night in the race for New Jersey’s second district. But while Mullock is a fan of renewable energy, he’s still a man of the south Jersey shore — and unlikely to be a champion for turbines off his coast.
District 2 encompasses the entire lower quarter of the state, covering six coastal counties from Atlantic City down to the tip of Cape May and around to the Delaware Bay. The area is a hotbed for offshore wind opposition, where groups like Protect our Coasts NJ have filed legal challenges against almost every wind project proposed in the region.
After heading to Congress in 2019, Van Drew, who was previously a Democrat, switched parties and became a key ally to this movement. He called for a moratorium on offshore wind development, held hearings on offshore wind “industrialization”, and requested that the Government Accountability Office investigate the industry. He also worked with the Trump administration to block projects that were under construction.
During a debate in late October, Mullock accused Van Drew of flip flopping on wind, arguing that the congressman was a staunch supporter of the industry during his decade-long tenure in the New Jersey legislature. Mullock, who is currently serving his second term as mayor of the city of Cape May, summed up his own position by citing a resolution he signed in 2023 calling for a moratorium on surveying and acoustic testing for offshore wind development pending an investigation into a spate of whale deaths. He signed it due to “concerns” about the environment and commercial fishing, he said.
“I believe very much in our future with renewable energy,” he said. “We need to go full steam ahead with solar panels. And yes we should do wind where it is appropriate, where it doesn't hurt our environment and it doesn't hurt our commercial fishing industry.”
Mullock’s campaign website says he supports federal investments in renewable energy and incentives for energy-efficient homes. He also wants “stricter enforcement of the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act,” and to fund coastal resiliency and other “smart infrastructure” projects that protect against climate impacts. He also campaigned in support of a data center moratorium.
Early signs point to a rough election for AI infrastructure.
We’ve seen enough: If this was the data center election, it was a really bad night for the industry.
Democratic campaigns and their affiliated Super PACs spent bigly on data center-themed attack ads. The ads came in various flavors. Some ads painted a vote for tax cuts as aiding data center developers. Others brought up candidates’ previous support for data centers or stock the candidate may have held in the tech industry or AI infrastructure developers. As Election Day approached, the data center industry sought to bat back claims that their sector’s poor reputation with the electorate would sway the results. People may have soured on their industry, they argued, but people weren’t going to vote based on that position.
Results are still coming in, but so far congressional races heavily featuring these data center attacks are heavily going in Democrats’ favor. In addition, these races have so profoundly shifted that it’ll be challenging for the industry to argue they played no role in the outcome.
Some of the most illustrative examples are obvious. In Georgia, Democrat Keisha Lance Bottoms campaigned on a statewide data center moratorium and won control of the governor’s mansion, becoming the first black woman to ever lead a U.S. state. Similar results in Ohio where Amy Acton flipped party control of the governor’s seat with a campaign that included going hard against data centers. In Pennsylvania, two Democrats who focused on data centers in their races have flipped Republican districts: Scranton mayor Paige Cognetti and firefighter Bob Brooks. In New Jersey, Cape May mayor Zack Mullock rode data center attacks to defeat Rep. Jeff Van Drew, the biggest opponent of the offshore wind industry. In Virginia, Democrat Shannon Taylor rode data center-laden attacks to take control of the Richmond area congressional seat from Rep. Rob Wittman.
If you’re arguing this election was decided by data centers, your best proof point: Democrat Gina Hinojosa has taken control of the governor's mansion in Texas, defeating incumbent Greg Abbott, who’d sought recently to take a hard line against the industry. Hinojosa ran on going further, calling to pass a law completely pausing data center development across one of the industry’s favorite states. She won a decisive victory. So did Democratic Texas Agriculture Commissioner candidate Clayton Tucker, who I explained months ago became one of anti-data center Facebook’s favorite online personalities.
But it makes sense that data centers would matter a lot in Texas, which could be compared to Virginia in terms of their buildout. When you inspect the election results more closely, they tell a more complicated story about the upper boundaries of these data center attacks.
For decades, Greenville and Spartanburg County have been GOP vote strongholds and reliable for both Republican congressional candidates and statewide campaigns. The congressional district gave Donald Trump at least a 20-point cushion in the 2024 presidential election, according to Decision Desk HQ. Last week, I explained for subscribers to The Fight how Courtney McClain, a novice candidate living one mile from a controversial data center proposal, was running against incumbent Rep. William Timmons. I couldn’t find much in the way of online ad spending on either side in this race and it’s never been on the radar of most political observers as a campaign that could somehow flip party control. But the data center debate in Spartanburg County has been immense.
Tonight, Timmons kept his ordinarily ruby red district by slim single digits after running even for most of the night. But this swing was essentially the same as the national margin. And because Timmons didn’t lose, this actually feels like a crucial distinction – data centers were not deciding races themselves in all cases. Democrat Annie Andrews defeated Republican Darlene Graham in a result driven by Democratic overperformance and GOP underperformance in this area, but it’s challenging to tie this result to the data center issue at all. Anything from the economy and the Iran War to Graham’s deceased brother and his baggage could be blamed for this result from this heavily evangelical region.
However, it will be challenging for the data center sector to differentiate themselves from this outcome, especially since a pro-data center Super PAC – Building the Future – publicly waded into the race in support of Graham only to lose. “Darlene Graham’s loss is a black eye for the data center industry,” wrote Teddy Schleifer of The New York Times on election night.
The same story played out in Georgia’s 1st district, which includes the city of Savannah. OpenAI is developing a controversial data center project in Effingham County, northwest of Savannah and the congressional race – which like South Carolina’s 4th had comparatively little spending – has been chock full of data center mudslinging, with the Democrat Amanda Hollowell calling for broader moratoria on development.
Effingham County went for Trump by almost 50 points in 2024. As of this story’s publication, the Republican, Jim Kingston, is winning by a single percentage point with 93% of the vote in. Most of what’s left is in Effington. Should this candidate win, it’s safe to say it’s because voters in this county looked past data centers, or did not link their vote for a national candidate to the local development.
On Election Night, Effingham County formally tabled any decision on the OpenAI data center. So at least on the ground level, people are paying close attention to these results.
After taking two seats in a special election last year, the party gained a third in the midterms.
Democrats claimed two seats on the Georgia Public Service Commission in a special election last year, ending almost 20 years of unanimous Republican control over the regulator.
One of those winning Democrats, Peter Hubbard, ran again this year for a full six-year term in a rematch against Republican Fitz Johnson. The other open seat this year saw Sheila Edwards running in an open race against Republican Josh Tolbert.
Both Hubbard and Edwads won, securing a 3–2 Democratic majority on the Public Service Commission.
“Over the last 12 months, Georgian consumers have made one thing clear: They are tired of rising utility bills and they are hungry to see change. Georgia’s sea change moment for energy policy has arrived,” Charles Hua, the executive director of the utility-focused advocacy group PowerLines, told me.
The Democrats have not been shy about what their priorities will be on the commission.
“Winning control of the Georgia Public Service Commission means prioritizing lowering power bills instead of constantly increasing corporate profits, ramping up the deployment of clean energy technologies, and focusing the people in our decision-making as state regulators,” Hubbard said in a statement on his website.
Edwards, for her part, made it clear where she stands on data centers specifically in an October debate with Tolbert. “They came into our communities,” Edwards said. “They didn’t pay any taxes. They are using our water, using our electricity, and they’re being a public nuisance to the communities that they’re coming into.”
Hubbard also talked about data centers on Heatmap’s Shift Key podcast back in June. “I advocate for a whole-of-government approach, because while the Public Service Commission really only has oversight over the power side of things — where that power comes from and how much data centers are paying on their tariff — there’s much larger issues in terms of water use, in terms of the tax incentives,” he told my colleague Robinson Meyer. “The estimate is $3.5 billion in tax abatements this year in Georgia, uncollected revenue that data centers otherwise would be willing to pay.”
The race has seen outsize spending and interest from major figures not accustomed to dealing in utility regulator races. (Just 10 states have elected utility commissions, period.) Kamala Harris appeared at a virtual fundraiser for the Democratic candidates in Georgia, as well as Democratic hopefuls to the Arizona Corporation Commission. The solar energy industry spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in support of the Democrats in Georgia. Meanwhile, anonymous donors pumped millions of dollars into Tolbert’s bid.
Democrats swept into the Georgia PSC last year on a wave of dissatisfaction with rising electricity prices, especially rate hikes attached to the construction of two new nuclear reactors at the Vogtle Electric Generating Plant, which ran years behind schedule and billions of dollars over budget. In the runup to the election, the PSC approved a three-year base rate freeze proposed by Georgia Power in an attempt to head off public dissatisfaction.
In the past year, rates in Georgia have gone up by less than 1% across the state on average, according to the Heatmap-MIT Electricity Price Hub, while rates are up over 18% in the last three years and over 6% in the past two years.
Shares in Southern Company, the parent company of Georgia Power, were down slightly more than 0.5% in after-hours trading Tuesday night.