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And it’s doing so in the most chaotic way possible.

The Trump administration filed a rule change this past weekend to remove key implementation regulations for the National Environmental Policy Act, a critical environmental law that dates back to 1969. While this new rule, once finalized, wouldn’t eliminate NEPA itself (doing so would take an act of Congress), it would eliminate the authority of the office charged with overseeing how federal agencies interpret and implement the law. This throws the entire federal environmental review process into limbo as developers await what will likely be a long and torturous legal battle over the law’s future.
The office in question, the Council on Environmental Quality, is part of the Executive Office of the President and has directed NEPA administration for nearly the law’s entire existence. Individual agencies have their own specific NEPA regulations, which will remain in effect even as CEQ’s blanket procedural requirements go away. “The argument here is that CEQ is redundant and that each agency can implement NEPA by following the existing law,” Emily Domenech, a senior vice president at the climate-focused government affairs and advisory firm Boundary Stone, told me. Domenech formerly served as a senior policy advisor to current and former Republican Speakers of the House Mike Johnson and Kevin McCarthy.
NEPA has been the subject of growing bipartisan ire in recent years, as lengthy environmental review processes and a barrage of lawsuits from environmental and community groups have delayed infrastructure projects of all types. While the text of the pending rule is not yet public, the idea is to streamline permitting and make it easier for developers to build. In theory that would include expediting projects such as solar farms and clean energy manufacturing facilities; in reality, under the Trump administration, the benefits could redound to fossil fuel infrastructure first and foremost.
On his first day back in office, Trump issued an executive order entitled Unleashing American Energy, which instructed CEQ to provide new, nonbinding guidance on NEPA implementation and “propose rescinding” its existing regulations within 30 days. Time is up, and CEQ published its first round of guidance late Wednesday night. So far it’s pretty bare bones, though as Hochman pointed out, it notably does away with environmental justice considerations as well as the need to take the “cumulative” environmental effect of an action into account, as opposed to simply the “reasonably foreseeable effects.” It also looks to exempt certain projects that receive federal loans from the NEPA process.
But gutting CEQ’s regulatory capacity via this so-called “interim final rule” is a controversial move of questionable legality. Interim final rules generally go into effect immediately, thus skirting the requirement to gather public comment beforehand. Expediting rules like this is only allowed in cases where posting advance notice and taking comments is deemed “impracticable, unnecessary, or contrary to the public interest.”
It’s almost certain that this interim rule will be challenged in court. Sierra Club senior attorney Nathaniel Shoaff certainly thinks it should be. “This action is rash, unlawful, and unwise. Rather than making it easier to responsibly build new infrastructure, throwing out implementing regulations for NEPA will only serve to create chaos and uncertainty,” Shoaff said in a statement. “The Trump administration seems to think that the rules don’t apply to them, but we’re confident the courts will say otherwise.”
Thomas Hochman, director of infrastructure at the center-right think tank Foundation for American Innovation, disagrees. “I think environmental groups will sue, and I think they’ll lose,” he told me. Hochman cited a surprising decision issued by the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals last November, which stated that CEQ did not have the authority to issue binding NEPA regulations, and that it was never intended to "act as a regulatory agency rather than as an advisory agency.” This ruling ultimately made it possible for Trump to so radically reimagine CEQ’s authority in his executive order.
“I would expect environmentalists on the left to challenge any Trump administration actions on NEPA,” Domenech told me. “But I actually think that the Trump team welcomes that, because they'd love to get quicker, decisive rulings on whether or not CEQ even had this authority to begin with.”
NEPA, which went into effect before the Environmental Protection Agency was even created, is a short law with the simple goal of requiring federal agencies to take the environmental impact of their work into account. But responsibility for the law’s implementation has always fallen to CEQ, which created a meticulous environmental review and public input process — perhaps too meticulous for an era that demands significant, rapid infrastructure investment to enable the energy transition.
Recognizing this, the Biden administration tried to rein in NEPA and expedite environmental review via provisions in the 2023 Fiscal Responsibility Act, which included imposing time limits on Environmental Assessments and Environmental Impact Statements and setting page limits for these documents. But as Hochman sees it, these well intentioned reforms didn’t make much of a dent. “It was up to CEQ to take the language from the Fiscal Responsibility Act and then write their interpretation of it,” he told me. “And what CEQ basically did was they grafted it back into the status quo.” Now that those regulations are kaput, however, Hochman thinks the Fiscal Responsibility Act’s amendments will have much more power to narrow NEPA’s mandate.
Trump’s executive order requires the yet-to-be-announced chair of CEQ to coordinate a revision of each individual agency’s NEPA regulations, a process that the recent CEQ guidelines allow 12 months for. But developers can’t afford to sit around. So in the meantime, CEQ recommends (but can’t enforce) that agencies “continue to follow their existing practices and procedures for implementing NEPA” and emphasizes that “agencies should not delay pending or ongoing NEPA analyses while undertaking these revisions.” That said, chaos and confusion are always an option. As Hochman explained, many current agency regulations reference the soon-to-be defunct CEQ regulations, which could create legal complications.
Hochman told me he still thinks CEQ has an important role to play in a scaled-down NEPA landscape. “CEQ ideally will define pretty clearly the framework that agencies should abide by as they write their new regulations,” he explained. For example, he told me that CEQ should be responsible for interpreting critical terms such as what constitutes a “major federal action” that would trigger NEPA, or what counts as an action that “normally does not significantly affect the quality of the human environment,” which would exempt a project from substantial environmental review.
No doubt many of these interpretations will wind up in court. “You will probably see up front litigation of these original definitions, but once they’ve been decided on by higher courts, they won’t really be an open question anymore,” Hochman told me. Basically, some initial pain for lots of future gain is what he’s betting on. Once the text of the interim rule is posted and the lawsuits start rolling in, we’ll check in on the status of that wager.
Editor’s note: This story has been updated to reflect the publication of CEQ’s new guidance on NEPA implementation.
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Plus more venture capital musings on Day 4 of New York Climate Week.
It’s another hectic and productive Climate Week in New York City, full of discussions on topics ranging from electrification, to permitting reform (the latest: it’s going to wait until after the midterms), to energy security amid soaring oil and gas prices, to, inevitably, the ways the data center buildout is both helping and hurting climate tech companies and emissions targets alike.
As usual, cadres of venture capitalists descended on Midtown Manhattan, bringing with them the particular brand of optimism that venture inherently requires. They touted the potential synergies between cleantech and the artificial intelligence boom, bemoaned the persistent “missing middle” funding gap, and debated ways to talk about climate without actually saying the word climate. Through it all, a few core themes emerged.
The first was the inescapable truth that the American economy is being hugely buoyed by AI right now. At our Heatmap House event on Wednesday, I asked Gabriel Kra, co-founder of early-stage climate tech investment firm Prelude Ventures, about the successful IPOs of geothermal company Fervo and nuclear energy company X-Energy. I wondered aloud whether their ability to reach that milestone said less about broad cleantech enthusiasm than it did about their hyperscaler customer base and its desperation for clean, firm power.
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He was nonplussed. “So wait, you’re asking if the current IPOs are reflective of the current economic environment?” he joked (sort of). “It’s likely that this country is in a zero growth or recessionary environment without the capital expenditures and the economic growth being driven by those same hyperscalers. And those hyperscalers are driving the largest change in the demand for energy, the largest change in the demand for electricity that we have seen in like a century.”
Point taken.
Dawn Lippert, founder of the philanthropically funded nonprofit investment firm Elemental Impact and its offshoot venture fund, Earthshot Ventures, likewise emphasized the opportunity to ride AI’s momentum to deploy cleantech in and around data centers. Elemental recently launched the Data Center Innovation Initiative, a partnership between climate tech startups, philanthropic organizations, and four hyperscalers — Google, Microsoft, Amazon, and Meta — to fund and pilot solutions such as low-carbon building materials, energy efficiency infrastructure, cooling solutions, and energy storage.
“We all feel a little bit used by data centers,” Lippert told me onstage at Heatmap House. “We thought, how can you actually use data centers to do the things that we need to do as society? And pulling forward clean energy technologies and sustainable technologies is one of the most interesting ways that they can be a real service to society.”
But she admitted that the data center story has essentially bifurcated the climate tech industry into the haves and have-nots. “We certainly see this as a tale of two sectors.” She told me. On the other, less fortunate, side of the equation, she listed companies working on lowering emissions in the food and agriculture supply chain. While she didn’t name names, that could mean everything from alternative protein startups to companies working to curb cattle’s methane emissions or developing alternatives to synthetic fertilizers.
Nature-based solutions are also faring poorly in the current environment, Lippert told me. That could include carbon removal companies pursuing everything from reforestation to enhanced rock weathering. “I think we need much more catalytic capital to make sure that companies and really good innovations can weather this storm that we have,” she told me, referring to those being left behind as AI sucks all of the attention and money out of the room.
Another theme that emerged was pushback to the notion that backing infrastructure-intensive climate tech solutions is necessarily incompatible with traditional venture timelines — or that taking longer when needed somehow makes those investments less worthwhile.
“I am proving you can have exits of very substantial fund returners in less than 10 years,” Katie Rae, CEO of the MIT-affiliated VC Engine Ventures, told me onstage at Heatmap House. “So I don’t know, do I need a longer timeline than software needs? Looks like I don’t.” She currently sits on the board of a number of prominent climate tech startups, including long-duration storage company Form Energy and Commonwealth Fusion Systems. Many in the industry are speculating that both could go public in the next few years, potentially putting them just within the 10-year mark from Engine Ventures’ first seed check to exit.
At an event I moderated on Monday at fusion company Thea Energy’s New Jersey headquarters, investors in the four-year-old startup told the audience they’re perfectly willing to wait until the mid-2030s for Thea to put its first fusion electrons on the grid. “The thing that we came up against when we were underwriting Thea is something that you hear all the time with fusion,” Pete Mathias, a general partner at the early-stage firm Reveille VC, told me. “Oh, it’s going to take 10, 15, years. And oh, it’s going to take a billion dollars. Well, yeah, I mean, so did DoorDash. They raised $2.5 billion dollars to bring food to your doorstep.”
You could practically hear his eyes rolling at the comparable triviality. “So when you look on a relative basis what the mission of this company is, the scale of the opportunity, the durability of the product, the kilowatt-hour cost of energy — it’s a much more investable case.”
This year’s biggest energy IPOs, Fervo and X-Energy, also challenge the notion that profitability must precede public market success. “If you told me a geothermal company that had not produced commercial electricity and a nuclear company that had not produced any commercial electricity were about to be multi-billion-dollar public companies [...] and tried to raise money from me five or 10 years ago, based on that premise, I would have said you’re crazy,” Kra told me.
In fact, both companies have stated in SEC filings that they expect to continue racking up losses for years, as any fusion company thinking about going public anytime soon would likely do, as well. But much like Fervo and X-Energy’s earliest backers, public market investors bought into the company’s forward-looking vision. “And why could they believe that story?” Kra asked. “They had customers who were willing to pay them money for their product,” he said. Simple as that. Fervo’s early customers include Southern California Edison and Google, while X-Energy plans to sell power to chemical producer Dow and Amazon.
Back at Thea’s event, Mathias threw additional cold water on the idea that traditional venture timelines and the intimidating cost of big infrastructure buildouts should dictate the viability of companies with the potential to fundamentally reshape society. “I thought Climate Week is all about, 100 years from now Planet Earth is on fire,” he said to the crowd. “What is the cost of that? It seems pretty high.”
A few other tidbits of note:
The bipartisan proposal from the House Science Committee comes with the backing of the Fusion Industry Association.
The nuclear fusion industry has been asking for a $10 billion investment from the U.S. government. Now, there’s a bipartisan coalition in Congress ready to give it to them.
On Thursday, Californians Zoe Lofgren, ranking member of the House Science Committee, and Jay Obernolte, chair of the body’s Subcommittee on Research and Technology, introduced the American Leadership in Fusion Act, which would pump some $10 billion into the industry to commercialize the frontier nuclear energy technology.
The $10 billion number was not pulled out of a hat (or a stellarator). The Fusion Industry Association called for a “one-time $10 billion injection of U.S. public capital into efforts and partnerships with the private fusion industry” late last year, a figure the group said was based on analyses from the National Academies of Science and a Department of Energy advisory committee.
“Fusion is the future, and this bipartisan bill is a major step in capitalizing on the promise of its emission-free power,” Lofgren said in a statement. “This bill will unleash a new era of fusion energy development in the United States.”
At our Heatmap House event at New York Climate Week on Wednesday, Commonwealth Fusion Systems CEO Bob Mumgaard acknowledged that $10 billion is a lot of money, but “you have to say what gets the job done. It’s a disservice to lowball what is needed. It’s this very important thing — it’s an entire new industry. Let’s treat it as such.”
The fusion industry hasn’t necessarily been hurting for private capital. In July, the FIA reported that 56 companies had raised almost $4.5 billion in the past year. CFS alone announced $1 billion of new funding in July, bringing its total investment up to $4 billion. Of the over $14 billion the industry has raised, almost a third has gone to CFS.
Whether this federal funding ever materializes remains to be seen. A Department of Energy official poured cold water on the $10 billion figure in July, telling the industry that the figure wasn’t plausible, according to Politico.
Obernolte and Lofgren’s bill would split the $10 billion into several pots all aimed at commercializing fusion technology, which has been the subject of university and scientific consortium research for decades.
The biggest chunk, almost $4 billion, would be devoted to building test facilities to work on materials and fuel. Another $2 billion would be put into the existing “milestone-based development program,” established by 2020’s Energy Act and expanded in the 2022 CHIPS and Science Act, which links funding to preset scientific and business targets. CFS has won funding through this program, as have seven other companies including Thea Energy and Tokamak Energy. Another $3 billion in the bill would go to a new demonstration program, analogous to the existing Advanced Reactor Demonstration Program for fission projects, which would probably involve fewer awards for bigger projects that require substantial cost sharing.
While it’s unlikely that this bill could become law this Congress, considering that the House of Representatives has left town to campaign for the midterms, fusion legislation typically garners bipartisan support. The ADVANCE Act, which included regulatory language easing fusion’s regulatory pathway, was signed into law in 2024 after passing the Senate in an 88-2 vote. It is unlikely, Democratic committee staff acknowledged, that the bill get a vote this Congress, but it could start momentum towards a bipartisan fusion bill in a future Congress.
Science Committee staff have been working on the American Leadership in Fusion Act since earlier this year, soliciting advice from national labs, universities, and companies working on fusion technology. The bill has won the endorsement of fusion industry heavyweights like CFS, the Fusion Industry Association, and several energy policy nonprofits and universities, including the Clean Air Task Force and ClearPath Action.
And it’s not crazy to expect the administration to take an interest in the bill, either, considering the latter’s bipartisan backing and alignment with the former’s own stated goals, a senior Democratic committee staffer told me.
Earlier this year, the Department of Energy released a Fusion Science and Technology Roadmap, which “aims to usher a burgeoning U.S. fusion industry toward maturity on the most rapid, credible timeline” including through “leveraging public and private sector investments.”
Third Way’s head of climate and energy argues that both sides have lost voters’ trust, with serious consequences for our infrastructure.
In September 2024, then-presidential candidate Donald Trump told a crowd in Wilmington: “We will cut your energy prices in half … Mark it down, and you can get very angry at me if we don't do it.” He gave himself one year from when he’d take office.
Two years later, rates are up. And we’re angry.
Utilities requested $18.6 billion in rate increases in the first half of 2026, including a record $9.2 billion in the second quarter alone. Gas prices are hovering close to $4.50 a gallon, almost a full dollar more than this time last year. Diesel prices are even worse, recently passing $6.50 a gallon, up by over 50% from one year ago.
In the past two years, electricity prices have increased by over 10%. In the past five years, it’s over 36%.
President Trump’s failure to lower costs has tanked his approval ratings, currently just 34% overall and 33% on his handling of the economy. But he’s not alone. Incumbent politicians across the country — along with utilities, energy-intensive businesses, and tech companies — have found themselves swept up in the backlash.
Those feelings of blame and distrust have emanated throughout our democracy. Just 27% of Americans trust national institutions, according to a June Gallup poll, a single point above the all-time low. Just 17% trust the federal government to do what's right. Nearly seven in 10 people fear that institutional leaders are deliberately misleading them.
Looking at our energy infrastructure, I understand the feeling. Government and industry have chronically neglected our electricity delivery system, offering impossible-to-fulfill slogans rather than real solutions.
Over the past four years, this has created what I’m calling the Energy Trust Gap. It results from the toxic collision of an aging, neglected, and overstressed grid; rising prices; and voter frustration with policymakers, regulators, and industries that overpromise and underdeliver.
This is not merely a Trump problem, though it is true that the president’s chaotic tariff strategy, his impossibly stupid war in Iran, and his senseless energy obstruction have dramatically widened this rift.
Instead of deploying more energy to the grid, the Trump administration has blocked renewables when Americans need them most. It paid TotalEnergies $928 million and Invenergy $765 million to abandon offshore wind leases — $1.7 billion of public money not to build power. Through the Pentagon, it has halted over 28 gigawatts of onshore wind projects in 21 states, and attempted to suspend five fully permitted projects already under construction. Thankfully, all five won injunctions and resumed development by February. Still, the industry's trade association estimated that the cancellations and delays would add $45 billion in East Coast energy costs over a decade.
Though a federal appeals court recently ruled against it, the administration was also using emergency authority to keep 11 fossil units at seven plants running at a cost of roughly $1.5 million per day. The evidence is quite weak that these units are necessary to maintain grid stability or meet unexpected demand. Some are producing substantially less power than they can, or have even been taken offline.
But the Energy Trust Gap has not been created by Republicans alone. Here is the part my side needs to sit with.
In 2022, then-President Biden promised that the Inflation Reduction Act would “bring down family energy bills by an average of $500 a year.” The White House projected that, alongside the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, the IRA would cut electricity rates by up to 9% by 2030. Advocates promised the law would create “more than 9 million good jobs.”
The Trump administration undid some of the efforts to fulfill these promises before they could bear fruit. But others were flimsy from the start.
An accompanying report on the 9 million jobs figure acknowledged, in a footnote, that “not all of the jobs created will be net new employment,” but rather would constitute workers hired away from elsewhere to remedy a tight labor market. It also clarified that “job” was less accurate than “job-year equivalent,” a technical measure of labor volume rather than individual people holding durable positions.
These caveats never made it into the president’s public comments, including at events I helped host.
We expected the government to spur private sector demand and create jobs across the country. We assumed the public would see the benefits and credit our clean energy policies. But voters didn’t see an IRA-driven jobs boom in their communities, didn’t feel its impact in reducing costs amid a crisis, and didn’t see it improving their lives.
Yes, there were jobs. But in an economy as large as the United States, the public simply doesn’t distinguish “clean energy jobs” from other sectors.
The promise of a national electric charging network to enable EV ownership didn’t pan out, either. Congress made $4.4 billion available for chargers in 2022; four years later, states had opened only around 150 public charging stations, a flop for a program designed to fund about 1,600 stations on the path to phasing out gas vehicles. Same story with home heating. The American Council for an Energy-Efficient Economy found that in all four high-electricity-price states it modeled, the average gas household's bills increased after electrification.
When heating homes already accounts for more than 40% of residential energy consumption, you cannot credibly advocate for more expensive options.
These functional failures were also messaging failures. By 2024, 40% of registered voters hadn’t heard anything about the IRA. Governors got more credit for new renewable energy and green manufacturing facilities than President Biden did, according to a post-mortem on the law led by the University of Michigan’s Alexander Gazmararian. The Biden administration placed a big political bet on actions that were misbranded, inadequately promoted, and ultimately undeliverable before November 2024 — the only timeframe that mattered.
Let me be clear: The Energy Trust Gap will cost Democrats elections.
As policymakers head into November’s midterm elections, they are being called upon to answer for the proliferation of data centers and the skyrocketing cost of electricity. In this moment, Democrats could seize momentum from Republicans. But many are still ignoring the lessons of the past four years.
A large number of voters believe clean energy advocates are exaggerating the affordability of renewable energy. If candidates argue that the transition to clean energy is a guaranteed outcome, and that Biden’s climate law worked, they will lose.
Reality is breaking through in some places: Officials are concerned about the cost-of-living crisis, explicitly acknowledging the trade-offs that come with climate policy and prioritizing affordability for ratepayers above all else. In March, for example, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey signed an executive order to bring more energy and energy storage to the Bay State, calling for an “all-of-the-above approach to energy, including “solar, wind, gas, nuclear and hydro.” In New York, Governor Kathy Hochul has been honest that the state cannot meet its 2030 climate targets “without imposing new and additional crushing costs,” citing state estimates of more than $4,000 a year for upstate households burning oil and gas.
“Something has to give,” she said.
That honesty is critical. Policymakers, clean energy and climate advocates, and industry cannot fix the issues plaguing our energy system without regaining some credibility.
Here’s where I would start:
This is the uncomfortable but necessary path to closing the Energy Trust Gap. The alternative is more broken promises and putting our ambitions for energy, the economy, national security, and climate completely out of reach.
If policymakers can’t be straightforward about the trade-offs and deliver on their solutions, we’ll doom ourselves to policy whipsawing and another energy crisis.
Then another. Then another. Then another.