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Why permitting reform could break the political alliance that produced America’s most significant climate law

The U.S. climate coalition is under serious strain.
The tension has been brought to a head by last month’s debt-ceiling compromise, which enacted a variety of reforms to the National Environmental Policy Act and exempted the long-debated Mountain Valley Pipeline from federal environmental review. While environmental groups have decried the concessions as “a colossal error … that sacrifices the climate,” clean-energy trade groups are praising them “an important down payment on much-needed reforms.” This gulf now threatens to disintegrate the political alliance that, less than a year ago, won the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA), its most tangible accomplishment and by far the country’s most significant climate law.
The differences over permitting reform aren’t just a disagreement about tactics. Rather, they reflect fundamental changes within three of the most important factions within the climate coalition — the environmental movement, the clean energy industry, and the Washington-centric group I’ve termed the green growthers. Facing these changes and their implications is critical to preserving the political foundations of federal climate action.
Ever since passage of the IRA unlocked massive fiscal resources for decarbonization, the climate coalition has been split on how best to put that money to work. While nearly everyone recognizes the need to substantially increase the pace at which clean energy infrastructure gets deployed, division centers on the question of permitting reform. To even name the debate is to invoke a factional diagnosis: the view that environmental laws are hobbling decarbonization by preventing clean energy infrastructure from getting built quickly enough — or even at all. This perspective has rapidly gained momentum across a bipartisan community that includes self-styled centrists within the climate coalition.
Permitting reform is unraveling the climate coalition because it reawakens a fundamental, unresolved disagreement over how to decarbonize. Its timing adds to these tensions: bipartisan legislation to curtail national environmental law has arrived, not accidentally, just as the clean energy industry has become most capable of splitting from the broader climate coalition that helped create it.
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The oldest faction in today’s climate coalition, and the most diffuse, is the environmental movement. Its mainstream wing has roots in the principles of preservation, and its largest organizations have spent multiple generations fighting for clean air and water, and ecologically healthy lands and species.
Its environmental justice wing, by contrast, emerged as racial justice activists combined civil-rights and environmental-protection principles to address historically unequal pollution burdens that have concentrated health risks and environmental damages in disempowered communities of color. Only in the last few years, after decades of discoordination, disinterest, and exclusion, have preservationist institutions become more attentive to the legacy of environmental racism. The movement has now coalesced, however incompletely, around a broader and more inclusive environmental vision.
Though preservationist and environmental-justice approaches can still lead to different priorities, the new environmental movement is at its most unified when it opposes fossil fuel production. The movement’s history of civil disobedience and legal combat have taught it to keep fossil fuels in its crosshairs — not only because of the social and environmental harm fossil fuel projects cause, but also because fights against fossil fuels mobilize the public, clarify the stakes, and yield tangible improvements for local communities and environments.
Though both wings of the environmental movement fought hard for the IRA, the law does almost nothing to directly constrain fossil fuel production. Instead, the IRA largely aims to reduce greenhouse gas emissions not by preventing those emissions, but rather by boosting the production and use of low-carbon energy — along with generous subsidies for storing carbon dioxide, often in conjunction with oil production or fossil fuel combustion. Accordingly, the environmental movement has redoubled its efforts to pair the law’s clean energy subsidies with new fossil fuel restrictions.
The environmental movement’s discomfort with a subsidies-only approach to decarbonization is probably better known than the shifting politics of the clean energy industry. As the new environmental movement has coalesced, clean energy has matured into a fully-fledged industry, both in the U.S. and around the world. Until the past few years, the nascent clean energy industry wielded little political muscle, depending instead on the political support and lobbying assistance of environmental groups. Not that long ago, renewable energy was more expensive, less familiar to regulators, and supported by fewer subsidies than fossil energy systems. As a result, clean energy companies depended heavily on the environmental movement’s political support to survive and grow.
Over the past half a decade, technological progress and policy victories achieved in coalition with the environmental movement have vaulted key technologies like wind, solar, and batteries into commercial maturity. Those gains are now locked in. The IRA provides at least 10 years of new federal clean energy tax credits, ending the boom-and-bust cycle of short-term extensions that held the clean energy industry together for most of the previous two decades. With falling costs and fiscal tailwinds, the clean energy industry no longer relies on the environmental movement’s lobbying muscle for commercial success.
The clean energy industry’s maturation has led to more profound differences with the environmental movement that eclipse a simple re-alignment in relative power. As the clean energy industry has grown, it has come to share the fossil energy industry’s preference for more permissive regulatory regimes and fewer environmental protections. In the pre-commercial era, climate-conscious jurisdictions like California drove clean energy development through supportive environmental policy. In recent years, though, the clean energy industry has grown faster and profited more in places like Texas, and for the same reason the fossil fuel industry has: because Texas offers open markets and few restrictions on energy development. As the clean energy industry’s policy priorities have shifted, its growing lobbying apparatus has followed suit, leading groups like the American Clean Power Association to collaborate with fossil fuel companies in pursuit of environmental deregulation.
Activists and policymakers focused on rapid, massive clean energy development make up a third critical faction of the national climate movement. Many in this group work in and around the Biden administration and have come to the climate fight not from the environmental movement, but from other areas such as industrial policy, national defense, some strands of organized labor, and electoral politics. They have brought their prior priorities — job creation, domestic manufacturing, and stable energy prices — to their climate politics. In the wake of the IRA, they remain focused on lowering the remaining barriers to rapid clean energy development.
These often center-left climate actors have only cohered into a distinct faction in the past five years, as enthusiasm for so-called “supply-side progressivism” has given them a common language with which to articulate a set of climate solutions founded on proactive government support for private reindustrialization. For some green growthers, deregulation is a necessary precondition to decarbonization, and since many also believe that clean energy will — with the IRA’s help — outcompete fossil fuels, they see fewer risks to reforming environmental law than the environmental movement does.
In part, the conflict over permitting reform has grown bitter because the term gets used to refer to many different policy proposals. Depending on the speaker and the audience, it can mean sweeping changes to how environmental laws govern new infrastructure projects; tailored tweaks to environmental review; more resources to strengthen administrative capacity and expedite permitting reviews; or changes to the process for building transmission lines and connecting power plants to the grid. This tangle of meanings has undermined the climate coalition’s ability to negotiate its internal differences and prioritize consensus solutions to the challenge of rapid clean-energy development.
More fundamentally, though, the environmental movement, the clean energy industry, and the green growthers are clashing over permitting reform because it has forced them to confront their ongoing disagreement about how to achieve decarbonization.
To many in the environmental movement, and especially on the climate left, most permitting reform proposals double down on what they see as a worrying tenet of the IRA: its dependence on competition and market dynamics to slash fossil fuel production. The environmental movement is familiar from long experience with this kind of market thinking, which promises that present development and the damage it entails will eventually unlock future benefits. As the environmental movement as a whole has become more concerned with historical pollution burdens, that bargain looks worse, and less trustworthy, than ever.
Many permitting reform proposals, including the newly-enacted language of the debt-ceiling deal, exacerbate these concerns by targeting the environmental movement’s oldest and most effective legal tools for defeating fossil fuel projects. At the same time, these proposals still omit any of the constraints on fossil fuels that the environmental movement believes necessary for decarbonization.
The environmental movement has responded with deployment-focused proposals of its own that aim to speed clean energy development without weakening environmental law. However, even the most straightforward of these proposals — such as appointing a fifth commissioner to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission — have repeatedly been deprioritized by clean-energy groups and green growthers. In the wake of the debt ceiling deal, which included none of the environmental movement’s reform priorities but substantially weakened environmental review, the movement is mobilized and angry.
To the green growthers, by contrast, rapid decarbonization cannot happen without permitting reform. According to the IRA’s market-decarbonization logic, the best and most politically plausible way to drive fossil fuels out of American energy markets is to displace them with cheaper and more abundant clean energy. At the same time, events such as the gas-price shock of 2021 — and its damage to Biden’s popularity — has reinforced their existing belief that suppressing fossil fuel extraction without first creating massive new clean energy production will risk serious political backlash. This theory of change has led green growthers to be simultaneously sympathetic to the clean energy industry’s deregulatory wishlist, and skeptical of the environmental movement’s focus on constraining fossil fuel production.
These factions’ divergent theories of decarbonization have offered a wedge to those within the climate coalition who believe rapid, effective clean energy development has become incompatible with rigorous environmental and social protections. Anti-coalitional voices, especially within portions of the clean energy industry, increasingly see permitting reform as an opportunity to split the climate coalition, excising the environmental movement from the climate coalition and creating a new, climate-inflected industrial alliance.
Most green growthers understand that such a split would deprive the existing coalition of its popular wing at a critical moment, threatening the political viability of climate progress. Though the growthers believe that the IRA’s clean-energy manufacturing boom will build a powerful new political coalition in favor of decarbonization, that coalition does not yet exist.
Environmental protection, by contrast, is extremely popular across America today, and the environmental movement has repeatedly proven its ability to mobilize public support. Though the clean energy industry no longer needs the environmental movement’s political muscle to turn a profit, the climate coalition as a whole may struggle to maintain political support for decarbonization without it, especially as climate change destabilizes the country’s energy systems and the right continues to oppose rapid decarbonization.
To understand why, you don’t need to look farther than Texas, which is something of a proving ground for the three factions’ competing beliefs about how deregulation may shape decarbonization.
In recent years, Texas provided strong evidence for the clean energy industry’s assertions that, whatever the environmental and social costs, less regulation can speed the deployment of renewable energy. It likewise bolstered green growthers’ claims that cheap, plentiful renewables can displace fossil energy.
But suddenly, Texas is also proving the environmental movement’s counter-argument. The state’s legislature has just created a new set of generous rules and tax subsidies that support new gas-fired power plants while hampering clean energy development. Though state lawmakers are transparently motivated by gas-industry lobbying and culture-war fixations, they have justified the legislation by arguing that Texas’ increasingly unreliable grid needs more gas plants to keep the lights on.
Such claims, however dishonest, will only grow more plausible to many voters as climate-exacerbated disasters and the energy transition itself strain infrastructural systems in the years to come. Without permitting structures or robust state environmental laws, Texan climate activists are ill-equipped to fight a possible new wave of gas plants, and Texas’ future decarbonization is now in peril.
Whereas last year, Texas’ clean energy boom seemed likely to continue driving fossil fuels out of the market and emissions down, now Texas’ new IRA-style subsidies and weak environmental protections look more likely to leave the state with more energy production of all kinds. Though Texas will continue to add clean energy, its decarbonization remains in doubt.
Permitting reform is threatening the national climate coalition because it cuts to the heart of a longstanding philosophical disagreement about what it will take to actually achieve decarbonization. It has arrived as the climate coalition’s major factions are transforming in ways that themselves sharpen the conflict. Good-faith advocates of decarbonization in all camps should be concerned that, in the wake of the debt-ceiling deal, a new round of fractious permitting-reform fights will split the climate coalition into separate camps with irreconcilable theories of climate action.
The result, though ideologically purifying, would be politically disastrous.
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Adorable as they are, Japanese kei cars don’t really fit into American driving culture.
It’s easy to feel jaded about America’s car culture when you travel abroad. Visit other countries and you’re likely to see a variety of cool, quirky, and affordable vehicles that aren’t sold in the United States, where bloated and expensive trucks and SUVs dominate.
Even President Trump is not immune from this feeling. He recently visited Japan and, like a study abroad student having a globalist epiphany, seems to have become obsessed with the country’s “kei” cars, the itty-bitty city autos that fill up the congested streets of Tokyo and other urban centers. Upon returning to America, Trump blasted out a social media message that led with, “I have just approved TINY CARS to be built in America,” and continued, “START BUILDING THEM NOW!!!”
He’s right: Kei cars are neat. These pint-sized coupes, hatchbacks, and even micro-vans and trucks are so cute and weird that U.S. car collectors have taken to snatching them up (under the rules that allow 25-year-old cars to be imported to America regardless of whether they meet our standards). And he’s absolutely right that Americans need smaller and more affordable automotive options. Yet it’s far from clear that what works in Japan will work here — or that the auto execs who stood behind Trump last week as he announced a major downgrading of upcoming fuel economy standards are keen to change course and start selling super-cheap economy cars.
Americans want our cars to do everything. This country’s fleet of Honda CR-Vs and Chevy Silverados have plenty of space for school carpools and grocery runs around town, and they’re powerful and safe enough for road-tripping hundreds of miles down the highway. It’s a theme that’s come up repeatedly in our coverage of electric vehicles. EVs are better for cities and suburbs than internal combustion vehicles, full stop. But they may never match the lightning-fast road trip pit stop people have come to expect from their gasoline-powered vehicles, which means they don’t fit cleanly into many Americans’ built-in idea of what a car should be.
This has long been a problem for selling Americans on microcars. We’ve had them before: As recently as a dozen years ago, extra-small autos like the Smart ForTwo and Scion iQ were available here. Those tiny cars made tons of sense in the United States’ truly dense urban areas; I’ve seen them strategically parked in the spaces between homes in San Francisco that are too short for any other car. They made less sense in the more wide-open spaces and sprawling suburbs that make up this country. The majority of Americans who don’t struggle with street parking and saw that they could get much bigger cars for not that much more money weren’t that interested in owning a car that’s only good for local driving.
The same dynamic exists with the idea of bringing kei cars for America. They’re not made to go faster than 40 or 45 miles per hour, and their diminutive size leaves little room for the kind of safety features needed to make them highway-legal here. (Can you imagine driving that tiny car down a freeway filled with 18-wheelers?) Even reaching street legal status is a struggle. While reporting earlier this year on the rise of kei car enthusiasts, The New York Times noted that while some states have moved to legalize mini-cars, it is effectively illegal to register them in New York. (They interviewed someone whose service was to register the cars in Montana for customers who lived elsewhere.)
If the automakers did follow Trump’s directive and stage a tiny car revival, it would be a welcome change for budget-focused Americans. Just a handful of new cars can be had for less than $25,000 in the U.S. today, and drivers are finally beginning to turn against the exorbitant prices of new vehicles and the endless car loans required to finance them. Individuals and communities have turned increasingly to affordable local transportation options like golf carts and e-bikes for simply getting around. Tiny cars could occupy a space between those vehicles and the full-size car market. Kei trucks, which take the pickup back to its utilitarian roots, would be a wonderful option for small businesses that just need bare-bones hauling capacity.
Besides convincing size-obsessed Americans that small is cool, there is a second problem with bringing kei cars to the U.S., which is figuring out how to make little vehicles fit into the American car world. Following Trump’s declaration that America should get Tokyo-style tiny cars ASAP, Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy said “we have cleared the deck” of regulations that would prevent Toyota or anyone else from selling tiny cars here. Yet shortly thereafter, the Department of Transportation clarified that, “As with all vehicles, manufacturers must certify that they meet U.S. Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards, including for crashworthiness and passenger protection.”
In other words, Ford and GM can’t just start cranking out microcars that don’t include all the airbags and other protections necessary to meet American crash test and rollover standards (not without a wholesale change to our laws, anyway). As a result, U.S. tiny cars couldn’t be as tiny as Japanese ones. Nor would they be as cheap, which is a crucial issue. Americans might spend $10,000 on a city-only car, but probably wouldn’t spend $20,000 — not when they could just get a plain old Toyota Corolla or a used SUV for that much.
It won’t be easy to convince the car companies to go down this road, either. They moved so aggressively toward crossovers and trucks over the past few decades because Americans would pay a premium for those vehicles, making them far more profitable than economy cars. The margins on each kei car would be much smaller, and since the stateside market for them might be relatively small, this isn’t an alluring business proposition for the automakers. It would be one thing if they could just bring the small cars they’re selling elsewhere and market them in the United States without spending huge sums to redesign them for America. But under current laws, they can’t.
Not to mention the whiplash effect: The Trump administration’s attacks on EVs left the carmakers struggling to rearrange their plans. Ford and Chevy probably aren’t keen to start the years-long process of designing tiny cars to please a president who’ll soon be distracted by something else.
Trump’s Tokyo fantasy is based in a certain reality: Our cars are too big and too expensive. But while kei cars would be fantastic for driving around Boston, D.C., or San Francisco, the rides that America really needs are the reasonably sized vehicles we used to have — the hatchbacks, small trucks, and other vehicles that used to be common on our roads before the Ford F-150 and Toyota RAV4 ate the American car market. A kei truck might be too minimalist for mainstream U.S. drivers, but how about a hybrid revival of the El Camino, or a truck like the upcoming Slate EV whose dimensions reflect what a compact truck used to be? Now that I could see.
Current conditions: In the Pacific Northwest, parts of the Olympics and Cascades are set for two feet of rain over the next two weeks • Australian firefighters are battling blazes in Victoria, New South Wales, and Tasmania • Temperatures plunged below freezing in New York City.
The U.S. military is taking on a new role in the Trump administration’s investment strategy, with the Pentagon setting off a wave of quasi-nationalization deals that have seen the Department of Defense taking equity stakes in critical mineral projects. Now the military’s in-house lender, the Office of Strategic Capital, is making nuclear power a “strategic technology.” That’s according to the latest draft, published Sunday, of the National Defense Authorization Act making its way through Congress. The bill also gives the lender new authorities to charge and collect fees, hire specialized help, and insulate its loan agreements from legal challenges. The newly beefed up office could give the Trump administration a new tool for adding to its growing list of investments, as I previously wrote here.

The “Make America Healthy Again” wing of President Donald Trump’s political coalition is urging the White House to fire Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Lee Zeldin over his decisions to deregulate harmful chemicals. In a petition circulated online, several prominent activists aligned with the administration’s health secretary, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., accused Zeldin of having “prioritized the interests of chemical corporations over the well-being of American families and children.” As of early Friday afternoon, The New York Times reported, more than 2,800 people had signed the petition. By Sunday afternoon, the figure was nearly 6,000. The organizers behind the petition include Vani Hari, a MAHA influencer known as the Food Babe to her 2.3 million Instagram followers, and Alex Clark, a Turning Point USA activist who hosts what the Times called “a health and wellness podcast popular among conservatives.”
The intraparty conflict comes as one of Zeldin’s more controversial rollbacks of a Biden-era pollution rule, a regulation that curbs public exposure to soot, is facing significant legal challenges. A lawyer told E&E News the EPA’s case is a “Hail Mary pass.”
The Democratic Republic of the Congo, by far the world’s largest source of cobalt, has slapped new export restrictions on the bluish metal needed for batteries and other modern electronics. As much as 80% of the global supply of cobalt comes from the DRC, where mines are notorious for poor working conditions, including slavery and child labor. Under new rules for cobalt exporters spelled out in a government document Reuters obtained, miners would need to pre-pay a 10% royalty within 48 hours of receiving an invoice and secure a compliance certificate. The rules come a month after Kinshasa ended a months-long export ban by implementing a quota system aimed at boosting state revenues and tightening oversight over the nation’s fast-growing mining industry. The establishment of the rules could signal increased exports again, but also suggests that business conditions are changing in the country in ways that could further complicate mining.
With Chinese companies controlling the vast majority of the DRC’s cobalt mines, the U.S. is looking to onshore more of the supply chain for the critical mineral. Among the federal investments is one I profiled for Heatmap: an Ohio startup promising to refine cobalt and other metals with a novel processing method. That company, Xerion, received funding from the Defense Logistics Agency, yet another funding office housed under the U.S. military.
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Last month, I told you about China’s outreach to the rest of the world, including Western European countries, to work together on nuclear fusion. The U.S. cut off cooperation with China on traditional atomic energy back in 2017. But France is taking a different approach. During a state visit to Beijing last week, French President Emmanuel Macron “failed to win concessions” from Chinese leader Xi Jinping, France24 noted. But Paris and Beijing agreed to a new “pragmatic cooperation” deal on nuclear power. France’s state-owned utility giant EDF already built a pair of its leading reactors in China.
The U.S. has steadily pushed the French out of deals within the democratic world. Washington famously muscled in on a submarine deal, persuading Australia to drop its deal with France and go instead with American nuclear vessels. Around the same time, Poland — by far the biggest country in Europe to attempt to build its first nuclear power plant — gave the American nuclear company Westinghouse the contract in a loss for France’s EDF. Working with China, which is building more reactors at a faster rate than any other country, could give France a leg up over the U.S. in the race to design and deploy new reactors.
It’s not just the U.S. backpedaling on climate pledges and extending operations of coal plants set to shut down. In smog-choked Indonesia, which ranks seventh in the world for emissions, a coal-fired plant that Bloomberg described as a “flagship” for the country’s phaseout of coal has, rather than shut down early, applied to stay open longer.
Nor is the problem reserved to countries with right-wing governance. The new energy plan Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, a liberal, is pursuing in a bid to leverage the country’s fossil fuel riches over an increasingly pushy Trump means there’s “no way” Ottawa can meet its climate goals. As I wrote last week, the Carney government is considering a new pipeline from Alberta to the West Coast to increase oil and gas sales to Asia.
There’s a new sheriff in town in the state at the center of the data center boom. Virginia’s lieutenant governor-elect Ghazala Hasmi said Thursday that the incoming administration would work to shift policy toward having data centers “pay their fair share” by supplying their own energy and paying to put more clean power on the grid, Utility Dive reported. “We have the tools today. We’ve got the skilled and talented workforce. We have a policy roadmap as well, and what we need now is the political will,” Hashmi said. “There is new energy in this legislature, and with it a real opportunity to build new energy right here in the Commonwealth.”
Get up to speed on the SPEED Act.
After many months of will-they-won’t-they, it seems that the dream (or nightmare, to some) of getting a permitting reform bill through Congress is squarely back on the table.
“Permitting reform” has become a catch-all term for various ways of taking a machete to the thicket of bureaucracy bogging down infrastructure projects. Comprehensive permitting reform has been tried before but never quite succeeded. Now, a bipartisan group of lawmakers in the House are taking another stab at it with the SPEED Act, which passed the House Natural Resources Committee the week before Thanksgiving. The bill attempts to untangle just one portion of the permitting process — the National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA.
There are a lot of other ways regulation and bureaucracy get in the way of innovation and clean energy development that are not related to NEPA. Some aren’t even related to permitting. The biggest barrier to building transmission lines to carry new carbon-free energy, for example, is the lack of a standard process to determine who should pay for them when they cross through multiple utility or state jurisdictions. Lawmakers on both sides of the aisle are working on additional bills to address other kinds of bottlenecks, and the SPEED Act could end up being just one piece of the pie by the time it’s brought to the floor.
But while the bill is narrow in scope, it would be sweeping in effect — and it’s highly unclear at this point whether it could garner the bipartisan support necessary to get 60 votes in the Senate. Just two of the 20 Democrats on the Natural Resources Committee voted in favor of the bill.
Still, the context for the debate has evolved significantly from a year ago, as artificial intelligence has come to dominate America’s economic prospects, raising at least some proponents’ hopes that Congress can reach a deal this time.
“We’ve got this bipartisan interest in America winning the AI race, and an understanding that to win the AI race, we’ve got to expand our power resources and our transmission network,” Jeff Dennis, the executive director of the Electricity Customer Alliance and a former official at the Department of Energy’s Grid Deployment Office, told me. “That creates, I think, a new and a different kind of energy around this conversation than we’ve had in years past.”
One thing that hasn’t changed is that the permitting reform conversation is almost impenetrably difficult to follow. Here’s a guide to the SPEED Act to help you navigate the debate as it moves through Congress.
NEPA says that before federal agencies make decisions, whether promulgating rules or approving permits, they must assess the environmental impacts of those decisions and disclose them to the public. Crucially, it does not mandate any particular action based on the outcome of these assessments — that is, agencies still have full discretion over whether to approve a permit, regardless of how risky the project is shown to be.
The perceived problem is that NEPA slows down infrastructure projects of all kinds — clean energy, dirty energy, housing, transit — beyond what should reasonably be expected, and thereby raises costs. The environmental assessments themselves take a long time, and yet third parties still often sue the federal government for not doing a thorough enough job, which can delay project development for many more years.
There’s a fair amount of disagreement over whether and how NEPA is slowing down clean energy, specifically. Some environmental and clean energy researchers have analyzed NEPA timelines for wind, solar, and transmission projects and concluded that while environmental reviews and litigation do run up the clock, that has been more the exception than the rule. Other groups have looked at the same data and seen a dire need for reform.
Part of the disconnect is about what the data doesn’t show. “What you don’t see is how little activity there is in transmission development because of the fear of not getting permits,” Michael Skelly, the CEO of Grid United, told me. “It’s so difficult to go through NEPA, it’s so costly on the front end and it’s so risky on the back end, that most people don’t even try.”
Underlying the dispute is also the fact that available data on NEPA processes and outcomes are scattered and incomplete. The Natural Resources Committee advanced two smaller complementary bills to the SPEED Act that would shine more light on NEPA’s flaws. One, called the ePermit Act, would create a centralized portal for NEPA-related documentation and data. The other directs the federal government to put out an annual report on how NEPA affects project timelines, costs, and outcomes.
During Biden’s presidency, Congress and the administration took a number of steps to reform NEPA — some more enduring than others. The biggest swing was the Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023, which raised the debt ceiling. In an effort to prevent redundant analyses when a project requires approvals or input from multiple agencies, it established new rules by which one lead agency would oversee the NEPA process for a given project, set the environmental review schedule, and coordinate with other relevant agencies. It also codified new deadlines for environmental review — one year to complete environmental assessments, and two years for meatier "environmental impact statements” — and set page limits for these documents.
The 2021 bipartisan infrastructure law also established a new permitting council to streamline reviews for the largest projects.
The Inflation Reduction Act allocated more than $750 million for NEPA implementation across the federal government so that agencies would have more resources to conduct reviews. Biden’s Council of Environmental Quality also issued new regulations outlining how agencies should comply with NEPA, but those were vacated by a court decision that held that CEQ does not have authority to issue NEPA regulations.
Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which he signed in early July, created a new process under NEPA by which developers could pay a fee to the government to guarantee a faster environmental review process.
None of these laws directly affected NEPA litigation, which many proponents of reform say is the biggest cause of delay and uncertainty in the process.
The most positive comments I heard about the SPEED Act from clean energy proponents were that it was a promising, though flawed, opening salvo for permitting reform.
Dennis told me it was “incredibly important” that the bill had bipartisan support and that it clarified the boundaries for what agencies should consider in environmental reviews. Marc Levitt, the director of regulatory reform at the Breakthrough Institute and a former Environmental Protection Agency staffer, said it addresses many of the right problems — especially the issue of litigation — although the provisions as written are “a bit too extreme.” (More on that in a minute.)
Skelly liked the 150-day statute of limitations on challenging agency decisions in court. In general, speeding up the NEPA process is crucial, he said, not just because time is money. When it takes five years to get a project permitted, “by the time you come out the other side, the world has changed and you might want to change your project,” but going through it all over again is too arduous to be worth it.
Industry associations for both oil and gas and clean energy have applauded the bill, with the American Clean Power Association joining the American Petroleum Institute and other groups in signing a letter urging lawmakers to pass it. The American Council on Renewable Energy also applauded the bill’s passage, but advised that funding and staffing permitting agencies was also crucial.
Many environmental groups fundamentally oppose the bill — both the provisions in it, and the overall premise that NEPA requires reform. “If you look at what’s causing delay at large,” Stephen Schima, senior legislative council for Earthjustice Action, told me, “it’s things like changes in project design, local and state regulations, failures of applicants to provide necessary information, lack of funding, lack of staff and resources at the agencies. It’s not the law itself.”
Schima and Levitt both told me that the language in the bill that’s supposed to prevent Trump from revoking previously approved permits is toothless — all of the exceptions listed “mirror almost precisely the conditions under which Trump and his administration are currently taking away permits,” Levitt said. The Solar Energy Industry Association criticized the bill for not addressing the “core problem” of the Trump administration’s “ongoing permitting moratorium” on clean energy projects.
Perhaps the biggest problem people have with the bill, which came up in my interviews and during a separate roundtable hosted by the Bipartisan Policy Center, is the way it prevents courts from stopping projects. An agency could do a slapdash environmental review, miss significant risks to the public, and there would be no remedy other than that the agency has to update its review — the project could move forward as-is.
Those are far from the only red flags. During a Heatmap event on Thursday, Ted Kelly, the director and lead counsel for U.S. energy at the Environmental Defense Fund, told me one of his biggest concerns was the part about ignoring new scientific research. “That just really is insisting the government shut its eyes to new information,” he said. Schima pointed to the injustice of limiting lawsuits to individuals who submitted public comments, when under the Trump administration, agencies have stopped taking public comments on environmental reviews. The language around considering effects that are “separate in time or place from the project or action” is also dangerous, Levitt said. It limits an agency’s discretion over what effects are relevant to consider, including cumulative effects like pollution and noise from neighboring projects.
The SPEED Act is expected to come to a vote on the House floor in the next few weeks. Then the Senate will likely put forward its own version.
As my colleague Jael Holzman wrote last month, Trump himself remains the biggest wildcard in permitting reform. Democrats have said they won’t agree to a deal that doesn’t bar the president from pulling previously-approved permits or otherwise level the playing field for renewable energy. Whether Trump would ever sign a bill with that kind of language is not a question we have much insight into yet.