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It’s not the pipeline. It’s the power lines.

At first glance, the bipartisan deal to raise the debt ceiling seems pretty good for the climate.
Most importantly, it preserves the Inflation Reduction Act, President Joe Biden’s flagship climate law. That alone is a monumental victory, cementing Biden’s legacy (for now) and allowing his administration to continue its experiment with green industrial policy.
When climate advocates have spoken against the deal, they’ve focused their ire on the Mountain Valley Pipeline, a 304-mile conduit that will link West Virginia’s booming natural-gas fields to the rest of the country. The deal essentially approves the pipeline and exempts it from judicial oversight, all but ensuring its eventual completion. Senator Joe Manchin, a West Virginia Democrat, won the White House’s support for the pipeline when he agreed to the IRA last year.
Yet despite the chatter, the pipeline was not, in fact, the most important climate concession exacted in negotiations. The deal also made a number of changes to federal permitting law, especially the National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA. These changes have been described as relatively small, common-sense reforms to the federal process — and in some cases they are. But they also represented critical leverage that Democrats just lost.
Democrats might have secured many other objectives in the debt-ceiling talks, including minimal cuts to some federal programs and a potential expansion of food stamps. But the deal’s permitting reforms are an uneven trade in which Democrats gave up much more than they gained and made virtually no progress on one of their biggest goals: making it easier to build long-distance power lines. When Congress revisits permitting reform in the next few months — as Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy has promised – Democrats will find that they have little room to bargain.
The National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA, requires that the federal government conduct an environmental study before it does much of anything. It also sets the rules by which the government decides whether to approve large-scale infrastructure. If a state wants to build a new highway with federal funds, it must apply to the government, which then runs a “NEPA process” to determine whether to grant funding. Virtually every major government project — whether a new mass-transit hub or an offshore wind farm — requires a NEPA study and a NEPA process.
Republicans have long wanted to tinker with NEPA. But while NEPA was once widely understood by progressives as a bedrock of federal environmental law, some on the left have recently become more open to reforming it. Fighting climate change will require building a lot of new infrastructure, they have argued, and NEPA could slow down that process. At the same time, virtually all Democrats want to simplify the process of building new long-distance power lines, which will lower electricity prices while ushering more renewables onto the grid. If America doesn’t double its rate of new transmission construction, then 80% of the IRA’s carbon reductions will be squandered, according to Jesse Jenkins, a Princeton engineering professor.
So a trade of sorts took shape: Democrats would open up NEPA, accomplishing a long-sought GOP goal, in exchange for easing the path for new power lines. When Senator Manchin proposed a permitting-reform bill last year, that’s essentially what it did.
The debt-ceiling deal inherits many of the NEPA reforms first contemplated in Manchin’s bill. Today, the strictest type of NEPA review takes 4.5 years to complete, although some studies can take much longer. The deal will impose a one-year deadline for most environmental-review studies and a two-year deadline for the strictest types. If an agency overruns these deadlines, then a project’s sponsor can sue the agency to get an accelerated decision.
The deal also imposes new page limits on NEPA studies. Today, the most stringent NEPA studies run to more than 500 pages on average. The deal would cap most NEPA studies to 150 pages, and the most complicated reviews to 300 pages.
To be sure, these reforms don’t go as far as the GOP wanted. Under one Republican proposal, for instance, the penalty for overrunning a NEPA deadline would have been a project’s immediate and irrevocable approval. But the deal also declines to provide more funding for NEPA agencies to hire staff, which some progressives have argued is the most important driver of NEPA delays.
The deal also narrows some of NEPA’s most important language, reducing the number of federal actions that require the most elaborate kind of environmental-impact study. An agency will now get to determine whether a project requires the highest level of NEPA review. That is “really problematic” because it could let officials do an end-run around the NEPA process, Kym Meyer, the litigation director at the Southern Environmental Law Center, told me.
Some of the deal’s most important consequences may not be visible in the legal text. The deal, for instance, says that projects qualifying for certain federal small-business loans do not need NEPA approval. That could effectively exempt many factory farms from the NEPA process, Meyer said.
The deal repeatedly inserts the words “reasonable” in NEPA, at one point limiting the types of environmental impacts that agencies must study only to those that are “reasonably foreseeable.” That may all sound, well, reasonable, and it could ultimately work out alright for environmentalists. But the courts — and the sharply conservative Supreme Court — will get to decide exactly where the lines of that reasonableness fall. “One thing we know for sure is that we’re gonna see a lot of litigation out of this,” Meyer said.
Which is not to say that Democrats failed to win concessions. Every NEPA study must now consider the environmental consequences of a project not happening — a new tool against NIMBYs who fight clean-energy projects. And energy-storage facilities, such as big batteries that store renewable electricity on the power grid, now qualify for an accelerated approval process.
The bill enacts a lot of what has been “circling around as a bipartisan set of permitting ideas for a couple of years now,” Xan Fishman, the director of energy policy at the Bipartisan Policy Center, a moderate think tank, told me. “It’s a lot of stuff that people on both sides of the aisle have called for, a lot of common-sense stuff. But there’s still a lot of stuff to do.”
The problem is that the bill makes all these changes without altering transmission policy at all. It funds a study on whether the United States should expand its long-distance transmission — ironic given that building new power lines already requires too many studies — but makes no substantive changes.
I’m sympathetic to the case for permitting reform, and I would describe the law’s changes to NEPA as aggressive but acceptable under the right circumstances. There’s some good stuff, some bad stuff, and much in between. But looking at the package in the context of this deal, I am more worried. By acceding to these changes, Democrats have surrendered their greatest leverage in future permitting-reform talks. Achieving transmission reform will now require much more profound changes to NEPA than many progressives may be willing to accept.
“They took care of the low-hanging fruit and there may not be a ladder high enough to get to the rest,” Rob Gramlich, a political consultant and one of the nation’s foremost transmission experts, told me.
That’s because Republicans want three major changes to federal environmental law, all of which could empower fossil fuels. First, lawmakers want to ease the way for international oil and natural-gas pipelines, limiting a president’s ability to block them under federal law. Second, Republicans want to revise the Clean Water Act so states can’t use it to block pipelines for climate-related reasons.
Finally, Republicans want to impose even stricter time limits on NEPA, adding a statute of limitations and a deadline for how long a NEPA-related lawsuit can drag on. This would require the biggest gamble of all: By time-delimiting NEPA fights, Democrats would keep NIMBYs from fighting clean-energy and mass-transit infrastructure, allowing a rapid low-carbon buildout. (As Ezra Klein has argued, NEPA hobbles the government’s power to build big public projects more than it limits private companies’.) But in doing so, Democrats would deprive environmental litigators of the time-sapping tactics that they use to slow down fossil-fuel projects.
Democrats, meanwhile, have more modest goals in any future permitting fight: They want long-distance power lines to be as easy to build as natural-gas pipelines. Right now, an interstate power line must win approval from dozens of state and local governments before it can be built, while a natural-gas pipeline only needs to be approved by a single federal agency. Democrats want to give that agency authority over transmission. Pending that, Democrats would require the grid in each region of the country to connect with its neighbors, guaranteeing a minimum amount of transmission capacity nationwide.
Suffice it to say that these are not equal goals. Republicans now want much deeper changes to NEPA than Democrats seek for transmission law. This is going to make any dealmaking much harder. It would have been a fair trade, once, to link transmission reforms to some of the permitting changes in the debt-ceiling deal. It would have been a savvy trade to package the deal’s modest reforms with some of the more aggressive proposals from each party, so as to make the ultimate “winner” of the negotiations more obscure. With those easy trades off the table, only hard choices remain.
So Democrats will soon have to make a much weightier gamble: Should they accept Republicans’ significant changes to NEPA in exchange for transmission reform?
That might feel like trading “a Taylor Swift ticket for a high-school baseball ticket,” Gramlich told me. If Democrats accept it, they will be making a world-historic bet: that decarbonization is all but assured, and that no amount of preferential treatment for pipelines or fossil fuels could change the market’s embrace of a low-carbon future. They might decide that weakening NEPA’s judicial reforms would enable a green buildout, not a gray one, allowing new IRA-subsidized infrastructure to flourish across the country. Or more darkly, they might decide that only a massive transmission mandate can secure the IRA’s carbon-reduction benefits, and that such a prize is worth a few new pipelines.
But I’ll be honest that I don’t see it happening. The party does not seem ready to make such a cosmic gamble on the future of the American energy system. Climate advocates couldn’t accept the Mountain Valley Pipeline by itself; how could they accept making it easier to build any pipeline going forward? A miracle could happen, of course, but for now, the hope of transmission reform seems dead.
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A third judge rejected a stop work order, allowing the Coastal Virginia offshore wind project to proceed.
Offshore wind developers are now three for three in legal battles against Trump’s stop work orders now that Dominion Energy has defeated the administration in federal court.
District Judge Jamar Walker issued a preliminary injunction Friday blocking the stop work order on Dominion’s Coastal Virginia offshore wind project after the energy company argued it was issued arbitrarily and without proper basis. Dominion received amicus briefs supporting its case from unlikely allies, including from representatives of PJM Interconnection and David Belote, a former top Pentagon official who oversaw a military clearinghouse for offshore wind approval. This comes after Trump’s Department of Justice lost similar cases challenging the stop work orders against Orsted’s Revolution Wind off the coast of New England and Equinor’s Empire Wind off New York’s shoreline.
As for what comes next in the offshore wind legal saga, I see three potential flashpoints:
It’s important to remember the stakes of these cases. Orsted and Equinor have both said that even a week or two more of delays on one of these projects could jeopardize their projects and lead to cancellation due to narrow timelines for specialized ships, and Dominion stated in the challenge to its stop work order that halting construction may cost the company billions.
It’s aware of the problem. That doesn’t make it easier to solve.
The data center backlash has metastasized into a full-blown PR crisis, one the tech sector is trying to get out in front of. But it is unclear whether companies are responding effectively enough to avoid a cascading series of local bans and restrictions nationwide.
Our numbers don’t lie: At least 25 data center projects were canceled last year, and nearly 100 projects faced at least some form of opposition, according to Heatmap Pro data. We’ve also recorded more than 60 towns, cities and counties that have enacted some form of moratorium or restrictive ordinance against data center development. We expect these numbers to rise throughout the year, and it won’t be long before the data on data center opposition is rivaling the figures on total wind or solar projects fought in the United States.
I spent this week reviewing the primary motivations for conflict in these numerous data center fights and speaking with representatives of the data center sector and relevant connected enterprises, like electrical manufacturing. I am now convinced that the industry knows it has a profound challenge on its hands. Folks are doing a lot to address it, from good-neighbor promises to lobbying efforts at the state and federal level. But much more work will need to be done to avoid repeating mistakes that have bedeviled other industries that face similar land use backlash cycles, such as fossil fuel extraction, mining, and renewable energy infrastructure development.
Two primary issues undergird the data center mega-backlash we’re seeing today: energy use fears and water consumption confusion.
Starting with energy, it’s important to say that data center development currently correlates with higher electricity rates in areas where projects are being built, but the industry challenges the presumption that it is solely responsible for that phenomenon. In the eyes of opponents, utilities are scrambling to construct new power supplies to meet projected increases in energy demand, and this in turn is sending bills higher.
That’s because, as I’ve previously explained, data centers are getting power in two ways: off the existing regional electric grid or from on-site generation, either from larger new facilities (like new gas plants or solar farms) or diesel generators for baseload, backup purposes. But building new power infrastructure on site takes time, and speed is the name of the game right now in the AI race, so many simply attach to the existing grid.
Areas with rising electricity bills are more likely to ban or restrict data center development. Let’s just take one example: Aurora, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago and the second most-populous city in the state. Aurora instituted a 180-day moratorium on data center development last fall after receiving numerous complaints about data centers from residents, including a litany related to electricity bills. More than 1.5 gigawatts of data center capacity already operate in the surrounding Kane County, where residential electricity rates are at a three-year high and expected to increase over the near term – contributing to a high risk of opposition against new projects.
The second trouble spot is water, which data centers need to cool down their servers. Project developers have face a huge hurdle in the form of viral stories of households near data centers who suddenly lack a drop to drink. Prominent examples activists bring up include this tale of a family living next to a Meta facility in Newton County, Georgia, and this narrative of people living around an Amazon Web Services center in St. Joseph County, Indiana. Unsurprisingly, the St. Joseph County Council rejected a new data center in response to, among other things, very vocal water concerns. (It’s worth noting that the actual harm caused to water systems by data centers is at times both over- and under-stated, depending on the facility and location.)
“I think it’s very important for the industry as a whole to be honest that living next to [a data center] is not an ideal situation,” said Caleb Max, CEO of the National Artificial Intelligence Association, a new D.C.-based trade group launched last year that represents Oracle and myriad AI companies.
Polling shows that data centers are less popular than the use of artificial intelligence overall, Max told me, so more needs to be done to communicate the benefits that come from their development – including empowering AI. “The best thing the industry could start to do is, for the people in these zip codes with the data centers, those people need to more tangibly feel the benefits of it.”
Many in the data center development space are responding quickly to these concerns. Companies are clearly trying to get out ahead on energy, with the biggest example arriving this week from Microsoft, which pledged to pay more for the electricity it uses to power its data centers. “It’s about balancing that demand and market with these concerns. That’s why you're seeing the industry lean in on these issues and more proactively communicating with communities,” said Dan Diorio, state policy director for the Data Center Coalition.
There’s also an effort underway to develop national guidance for data centers led by the National Electrical Manufacturers Association, the American Society of Heating, Refrigerating, and Air-Conditioning Engineers, and the Pacific Northwest National Laboratory, expected to surface publicly by this summer. Some of the guidance has already been published, such as this document on energy storage best practices, which is intended to help data centers know how to properly use solutions that can avoid diesel generators, an environmental concern in communities. But the guidance will ultimately include discussions of cooling, too, which can be a water-intensive practice.
“It’s a great example of an instance where industry is coming together and realizing there’s a need for guidance. There’s a very rapidly developing sector here that uses electricity in a fundamentally different way, that’s almost unprecedented,” Patrick Hughes, senior vice president of strategy, technical, and industry affairs for NEMA, told me in an interview Monday.
Personally, I’m unsure whether these voluntary efforts will be enough to assuage the concerns of local officials. It certainly isn’t convincing folks like Jon Green, a member of the Board of Supervisors in Johnson County, Iowa. Johnson County is a populous area, home to the University of Iowa campus, and Green told me that to date it hasn’t really gotten any interest from data center developers. But that didn’t stop the county from instituting a one-year moratorium in 2025 to block projects and give time for them to develop regulations.
I asked Green if there’s a form of responsible data center development. “I don’t know if there is, at least where they’re going to be economically feasible,” he told me. “If we say they’ve got to erect 40 wind turbines and 160 acres of solar in order to power a data center, I don’t know if when they do their cost analysis that it’ll pencil out.”
Plus a storage success near Springfield, Massachusetts, and more of the week’s biggest renewables fights.
1. Sacramento County, California – A large solar farm might go belly-up thanks to a fickle utility and fears of damage to old growth trees.
2. Hampden County, Massachusetts – The small Commonwealth city of Agawam, just outside of Springfield, is the latest site of a Massachusetts uproar over battery storage…
3. Washtenaw County, Michigan – The city of Saline southwest of Detroit is now banning data centers for at least a year – and also drafting regulations around renewable energy.
4. Dane County, Wisconsin – Another city with a fresh data center moratorium this week: Madison, home of the Wisconsin Badgers.
5. Hood County, Texas – Last but not least, I bring you one final stop on the apparent data center damnation tour: Hood County, south of the Texas city of Fort Worth.