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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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In Providence, at least, climate change is still on the ballot.
Here’s some trivia for you: What was the first state to see its average temperature break the 2-degree Celsius threshold for warming above pre-industrial levels? It wasn’t Alaska, the fastest-warming state, nor was it California or Florida, states with some of the most visible impacts of the extreme weather crisis. It was not Arizona or Texas, either, though “hot” and “warming” are often conflated.
The answer, in fact, is humble Rhode Island, which passed the international benchmark for accelerated climatic impacts back in 2019. It is perhaps less surprising, then, to learn that in the Ocean State’s largest city, Providence, climate change and how to adapt to it have become one of the central talking points in a heated mayoral race, which in the deep-blue city is likely to culminate in the September 9 primary.
There is plenty to worry voters. Providence sits at the head of Narragansett Bay, which has warmed 1.6 degrees Celsius, enough to drive lobsters from the region and convert the local lobstermen into crabbers, fishing for crustaceans they previously considered bycatch. The sea level has risen on Rhode Island’s 400-plus miles of coastline by more than 10 inches since 1930, more than in Venice or Miami, meaning the city floods frequently. Locals hold their breath every hurricane season; a hit from a category 4 or larger storm could tally billions in damages. And as home to the biggest port in the region, Providence is also an unfortunate case study in industrial and fossil-fuel-related pollution affecting historically redlined neighborhoods.
“Since I’ve been in office, we’ve had dramatic, chronic flooding. We’ve had high heat days in the fall that have closed public schools, which is not something that ever happens here in September,” Providence Mayor Brett Smiley told me. “We had some of the highest snowfall in recorded history [in the city]. We’re seeing the effects.”
Smiley, who was elected in 2022, has described investing in infrastructure upgrades for the nearly four-century-old city as one of his “principal responsibilities” as mayor. During his second year in office, he signed an ordinance requiring all of the 122 city-owned buildings to decarbonize by 2040, and that fall published a 10-year plan that introduced air quality, heat, and stormwater management goals, provisions aimed at curbing pollution at the Port of Providence, and would have effectively banned the construction of new gas stations. (A later amendment relaxed the restrictions.) He’s also invested in long-overdue repairs to the city’s hurricane barriers.
This year, Smiley also announced the creation of a Green Revolving Fund to support Providence’s ambitious carbon neutrality goals. “I’ve been in government long enough to know that operating budgets can change as priorities change, and so having a dedicated recurring revenue stream is vital to ensuring that this work continues,” he said.
In the face of federal headwinds, and at a time when the political currency of “climate change,” at least in so many words, is on the downswing, Smiley’s focus on climate issues stands out. That is especially true against the backdrop of a broader state-level reassessment of environmental goals, with Democratic Governor Dan McKee proposing a budget earlier this year that would have slashed climate programs funded by monthly utility charges in the name of affordability. Though Rhode Island lawmakers ultimately rejected that rollback, McKee’s move fits into a larger trend in the region of blue-state politicians in places like Maryland, Massachusetts, and New York curbing or weakening climate ambitions under the pressure of affordability politics. (McKee also faces his own competitive primary.)
“Providence alone can’t solve the climate crisis. But our actions, at least in Rhode Island, are pushing other communities in the state to take action,” Smiley said.
But there are others — including Smiley’s progressive challenger, State Representative David Morales — who say the mayor’s tenure has been a lot of talk and little action, and that he’s neglected Providence’s low-income and frontline communities.
Morales’ campaign did not get back to me for this article, despite requests through multiple channels. But Steve Ahlquist, an independent reporter who follows environmental justice-related issues in Rhode Island, also told me that “over the years, and also in dealing with Mayor Smiley as an incumbent, I’ve had some real difficulty with what I would even call basic honesty out of his administration.” He added that the mayor’s office has a history of downplaying and denying police harassment of unhoused people in particular, including lying about the presence of police officers at a homeless encampment and their involvement in an “illegal search” in 2023.
When I asked the Smiley campaign about Ahlquist’s accusations, press secretary, Carl Austin Miller Grondin told me the city has a “multi-department approach” for addressing encampments of which “Providence Police are one piece,” though he didn’t address the 2023 incident directly. As for the idea that Smiley represents the status quo, Grondin said the mayor has made “significant investments” in programs for underprivileged groups including affordable housing, eviction prevention, public schools and youth programming, and public safety.
Ahlquist also finds Smiley’s talk about affordability and clean energy false, however. Smiley notably vetoed a rent control ordinance, despite the city having some of the highest rates in the country, and while serving as former Governor Gina Raimondo’s chief of staff between 2016 and 2019, he helped push for the expansion of fossil fuel infrastructure in the form of a $1 billion fracked gas and diesel oil power plant that was ultimately thwarted by community pushback. (Grondin told me “rent control policies do not lower rents” and that the mayor “has instead taken a disciplined, results-driven approach to lowering housing costs.” The power plant project was proposed before Smiley’s tenure in Raimondo’s administration, he added.)
Morales, 27, is a Democratic Socialist and has won the backing of Vermont’s Independent Senator Bernie Sanders. His scrappy campaign against an establishment incumbent Democrat has earned him comparisons to New York City’s young, charismatic Mayor Zohran Mamdani. Unlike Mamdani, however, Morales has made climate central to his campaign.
Morales has gone after Smiley particularly hard on environmental justice issues, sensing a weak spot in his record. “Industrial facilities near the Port of Providence have polluted our neighborhoods for decades,” his issues page reads. “David will require them to contribute more toward the city services and infrastructure our communities deserve.”
A nearly two-mile stretch of Allens Avenue, which flanks the port, is home to asphalt plants, scrap metal recyclers, oil and gas companies, and petroleum storage tanks with a history of leaks, spills, dumps, and other forms of contamination. Locals complain that even just driving along the avenue is enough to make you sick, with 11 identified polluters within a mile radius of National Grid’s newest LNG plant. Traffic to and from the port adds to the odor — and health impacts — in the neighboring communities of South Providence and Washington Park, which have some of the highest hospitalization rates in southern New England. Notably, South Providence’s population is 90% people of color; Washington Park’s is above 60%.
Smiley bristled at Morales’ plan to tax polluters. “Many of my opponent’s proposals — which continue to evolve, by the way — are illegal or not allowed, and he leaves some of those details out, and sometimes changes his position,” he told me. Ahlquist, who issued a rare endorsement of Morales last spring, contends that “we know for a fact it is not illegal” to tax polluters at a different rate. (In truth, it’s a bit of a legal gray area; Providence’s tax code allows it to adopt a classification system with different rates for industrial properties, but whether that classification can be used to single out specific polluters on Allens Avenue is murkier.)
In an interview with Ahlquist, Morales has also proposed buying out the Rhode Island Recycled Metals property — where some of the worst contamination has originated — and pursuing “brownfield mediation” in the area. “I find it shameful that Public Street, one of the few shoreline access points around the Port of Providence, is not a very welcoming environment,” he said. On the adaptation side, he’s proposed passing a green energy bond to invest in renewable energy and upgrade the sewage system with an eye on future flooding.
A week ago, it might have seemed as though Morales had progressive momentum on his side. But after the upset of Democratic Socialist Francesca Hong in Wisconsin on Tuesday night and the narrow victory by progressive up-and-comer Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan the week before, the narrative is now more complicated. Meanwhile, the first primary poll shows Smiley with a 4-point edge — within the margin of error, but still likely to have the Morales campaign in a state of jitters.
Climate adaptation can sometimes fall under a variation of the refrain parodied in urban infrastructure circles: One more study would fix this. That’s especially true in Rhode Island, where study after study has highlighted the problems Morales and Smiley are circling, and yet here they still are, at the center of yet another mayoral race.
“One of the things that frustrates me is when you write a plan and then put it on the bookshelf, and that’s the end of it,” Smiley told me, sounding genuinely irked as we spoke on the phone. “That’s not how I do plans.” He told me stormwater infrastructure would be a major focus of his administration if he’s elected to another term, while he hopes his decarbonization roadmap and the green revolving fund will outlast his mayoralty, whenever and however it may end.
Morales has been stymied before, too. Ahlquist recalled watching the young legislator in the State House at the end of a legislative session, when, in the waning hours, he was told by leadership that a bill he’d been working on wasn’t going to get through. “David, when he’s in public, he’s very controlled, very managed,” Ahlquist said. But from his vantage point, Ahlquist could see Morales had started to cry.
“It’s midnight, the last days of session, and I just saw something raw in him then,” Ahlquist said. “It was like, Wow, this is a guy who really gives a shit.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to include responses from the Smiley campaign.
Chatting about win-win solutions with the Abundance Institute’s Ryan Norris.
This week’s conversation is with Ryan Norris, senior fellow for energy policy at the Abundance Institute. The libertarian-leaning institute — whose name cleverly shortens to AI — is a new-ish entity with increasing relevance in energy and tech spaces. As Norris and I discussed, it’s starting to help shape policy on data center development and the generation that’ll power it all, especially in Republican circles. Norris himself previously worked with Americans for Prosperity, a right-wing political organization. I reached out to him and asked if we could chat because I wanted to know more about the institute’s work within the energy space. He wound up saying a lot more than I expected. So let’s dive into it.
The following conversation was lightly edited and abridged for clarity.
So let’s start with what you’re working on. What’s on your desk these days?
Here at Abundance, we sit at the juncture of emerging technology and the energy they need to bring that new technology to bear to impact life positively. We are always in a constant state of learning and researching what the latest thoughts and feelings are around certain policies, particularly around AI and data centers, and then energy technology. How do they feel about nuclear? Geothermal? Solar and battery arrays?
A lot of what I’m working on is Project Gigawatt, a body of policy that fits into permitting, generation, the grid, transmission, and then market and demand. Policies that we believe will generate more, transmit more, and as much of a free market approach as possible. Knowing that a lot of states have regulated utilities, when the state utility can’t produce what the state can potentially actually generate or would need to in order to accommodate large loads, we think there needs to be other opportunities to either bring that power or purchase it in a different way.
When it comes to this policy set, how are you taking into account the intensifying backlash to data center and AI infrastructure, as well as the energy attached to it?
As everyone can sense, things are moving rapidly, and there is a natural inclination to question how fast we’re going. I think these concerns need to be addressed seriously and respectfully. You can’t just say negative things about people who care about water quality or impacts to their local economies. Those are valid. I’ve lived through those. I come from a rural place in Arkansas that had oil and gas plays. And I’ve seen there needs to be conversations with people living in those areas too.
We cannot discount the backlash. When you take the legitimate concerns and pair them with the opportunities coming, I think there’s actually a chance to set up win-win solutions. It shouldn’t be a win-lose scenario here. They have skepticism about AI in the short and long term — that’s a natural inclination and not a negative, per se. But educating people and policymakers about data centers, that’s important.
What is your approach to the rise in land use regulation around data centers and energy infrastructure, moratoria and restrictive ordinances?
As much as possible, you want the infrastructure and cost allocation to be borne by the business causing it. That’s the motivation behind a lot of colocation partnerships happening right now, like the Kilby project in Texas, with natural gas powering a Microsoft hyperscale.
To us, it’s about setting up the opportunity for private property owners to sell to those hyperscalers and those generating the energy. Setting up situations where you’re not stopping people from benefiting. A lot of the “bring your own power” concept, we really like that. Maybe having it where power purchase agreements are more in the mix, things along those lines. That’s where I see things.
The energy increases to our utility bills, people are concerned about it, and that’s a bread and butter issue. That’s the approach: We know we need grid upgrades and want to have the most cost effective versions of those as possible, but you want those needing the power paying for it and not putting it on the backs of residents.
I’m curious, what’s you and your organization’s approach to the rise of gas infrastructure built for AI and the potential impacts that could have on climate change?
I don’t discount the issue of climate change.
Let’s say we’re not able to decarbonize enough to reverse the effects of warmth. We know we’ll have to create energy. We know we have other options for energy that need to be in the mix — more nuclear, which now even some of those who are climate-minded understand is an abundant energy source. I’m also interested in new technologies in geothermal where it can be viable in more places than we thought. You can drill down and tap hot rocks, a basin of water, turn a turbine, and that’s more acceptable for those who care about the climate. And states are looking at it, including my state of Arkansas. I bring these up because I also care about sources that provide firm, consistently available power.
We attended the American Legislative Exchange Council, and one of the things we do, we’re voting members on the energy, environment, and agriculture task force. We’re pro letting the market decide what they need. So we took opposite stances from what people typically consider normal standards on the center-right about banning “net-zero” for local governments. It did pass as model legislation but if we believe “all of the above” is the approach, we also want to be principally correct to ourselves that it doesn’t mean banning wind or solar where it’s viable.
My last question: What’s your thought on the future of politics around AI infrastructure and energy generation for it?
There’s definitely headwinds to those in that industry. I think the sense is, they understood what they wanted and didn’t see any barriers to the way they’d go about it. That’s causing ripple effects in our politics at the local level, including here in Arkansas, where I live in Pulaski County. I think it’ll stay important particularly as it connects to affordability concerns around energy. We know we need more energy, but we want it at the lowest cost possible to the residential side. If people are feeling like data centers are driving the demand for the energy and aren’t on the hook for it, that’s going to position them to be more negative towards the technology.
But we have to expand the conversation. There are folks out there talking about 3D printing for homes, using proprietary cement mixes to build homes in a few weeks when they took months. Agriculture is using robotics in lieu of pesticides and herbicides. Advanced manufacturing is improving the quality of medical equipment. No one completely understands the end goal of new energy to fuel the data centers and AI to get us where there’s a net benefit to them.
Plus more of the week’s biggest development fights.
1. Shelby County, Alabama — The Trump administration’s widening effort to intervene in rural energy project fights is facing an early test: What happens if companies don’t take it seriously?
2. Ozaukee County, Wisconsin — Speaking of walls, we just saw the political power of the data center resistance hit one in the Badger State.
3. Everywhere in Texas — Texas Governor Greg Abbott is getting a lot of love for his data center standards, with major developers rolling out press statements claiming they’ll comply.
4. Herkimer County, New York — Something weird is going on in upstate New York with a monastery, a wind farm, and the Trump administration. I’m not sure what to make of it yet.