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When then-President-Elect Donald Trump nominated then-Oklahoma Attorney General Scott Pruitt to lead the Environmental Protection Agency in 2016, everyone right, left, and center knew exactly what that meant: The top law enforcement officer from one of the nation’s most conservative states and largest oil and gas producers would take aim at environmental rules implemented by the previous administration — rules he had often sued to overturn — and pave the way to increased fossil fuel production.
Trump’s pick this time around, former Long Island Congressman and New York Republican gubernatorial candidate Lee Zeldin, is more distinguished by his personal closeness to and support for the President-Reelect than he is by anything to do with the environment.
“It is an honor to join President Trump’s Cabinet as EPA Administrator. We will restore US energy dominance, revitalize our auto industry to bring back American jobs, and make the US the global leader of AI,” Zeldin wrote on X soon after the New York Post broke the story. He added for good measure: “We will do so while protecting access to clean air and water.”
So, who is Lee Zeldin? In his four terms in Congress as the representative from New York’s easternmost congressional district on Long Island, Zeldin did not cut any particular profile on climate, environment, or energy issues, and was best known for his hawkish foreign policy position. His surprisingly close run against Kathy Hochul for New York’s governor’s mansion in 2022 was largely defined by crime, public safety, and the effect of Covid-19 restrictions on the state’s economic recovery.
To the extent Zeldin has defined himself on the environment beyond standard-issue Republican opposition to restrictions on fossil fuels and car purchasing, it’s been in the context of issues specific to his coastal Long Island constituency. During his 2018 congressional campaign, he pointed to his membership in the “shellfish and national estuary caucuses,” as well as federal programs for estuaries and his opposition to expanded offshore drilling exploration at an event hosted by the League of Conservation Voters.
Throughout his gubernatorial run, Zeldin assailed New York’s ban on fracking, which had been implemented by Hochul’s predecessor, Andrew Cuomo. He also criticized New York’s planned phase-out of sales of internal combustion engine vehicles by 2035, as well as the proposal to institute congestion pricing in Lower Manhattan (an effort that died but may be brought back to life as part of Hochul’s scheme to protect Democratic congressional candidates on Long Island).
Cosmetics heir Ronald Lauder spent millions supporting Zeldin’s gubernatorial run, which The New York Timessuggested was motivated in part by the billionaire’s opposition to a cable from an offshore wind project that was planned to land in Wainscott, in the Hamptons, where Lauder has a home. The project, South Fork Wind, has been delivering power to New York since March of this year. Trump’s opposition to wind and offshore wind energy specifically has been a hallmark of his climate and energy policies.
“Congratulations! By saving the whales, you and @realDonaldTrump will establish a legacy for which Americans will feel grateful, decades and centuries into the future,” Michael Shellenberger, the anti-offshore-wind activist, wrote on X.
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Since August, climate policy optimists have pointed to a letter sent by 18 Republican members of the House of Representatives to Speaker Mike Johnson imploring him to preserve the energy tax credits in the Inflation Reduction Act.
As of January, however, some of them will no longer be Johnson’s problem.
Two signatories from newly redrawn House districts in New York, Marcus Molinaro and Anthony D’Esposito, are out of a job already, beaten by Democrats Josh Riley and Laura Gillen, respectively, each of whom received an endorsement from the New York League of Conservation Voters. Also definitively leaving the House is Utah Republican John Curtis, founder of the Conservative Climate Caucus, who is headed across the hall to the Senate.
Of the remaining 15 Republicans, four are in races that still have not been called, and three look to be in moderate-to-severe jeopardy. The current chair of the Conservative Climate Caucus, for instance, Iowa’s Mariannette Miller-Meeks, is leading challenger Christina Bohannan by just 0.2% — i.e. 799 votes — with all precincts reporting. The state has no automatic recount law, but candidates can request one at little to no expense when the margin is within 1%; a spokesperson from the Iowa Secretary of State’s office told a local TV network that if a request comes in, it’ll likely be after the results are certified early this week. As Heatmap’s Jeva Lange wrote in our climate election tracker, “Bohannan has attacked Miller-Meeks for slow-walking action on addressing climate change through her soft hand with the oil and gas industry,” and as of the final weeks of the race was out-raising Miller-Meeks by a 2-to-1 ratio, E&E News reported.
Another seat Democrats saw an opportunity to flip was Arizona’s 6th Congressional District, where letter signatory Juan Ciscomani has, as of this moment, squeaked out ahead of Democrat Kirsten Engel by 0.6% after appearing to trail for much of last week, though that could change again as more votes are counted. The news is worse for Oregon’s Lori Chavez-DeRemer, however, who with 87% of precincts reporting is behind Democrat Janelle Bynum in the vote by close to 3%.
If all these races were to be certified as they currently stand, that would leave 14 of the original group of 18 representatives still in Congress. If all the House races with results still outstanding fall into line per their current leanings, then Johnson will have just an 11-vote majority. That means this group of lawmakers can still derail the House’s agenda if they so choose, though just barely.
As for the three House seats Republicans have flipped so far, two are in Pennsylvania and one is in Michigan, both states Biden won in 2020. The victors in the two Pennsylvania races, campaigned against the “radical climate agenda” and the “climate crazies,” respectively. Yet the new representative from Michigan’s 7th district, Tom Barrett, has earned a score of 32% from the Michigan League of Conservation Voters during his time in the state Senate, making him a potential Conservative Climate Caucus recruit. The group’s current chair, Miller-Meeks, has a LCV score of just 12%.
So where does that leave us? About where we started, with the politics of repeal teetering on a wind turbine blade-edge. It’s one thing to campaign against the IRA, but the actual business of gutting is another thing entirely. On election night, my colleague Robinson Meyer cited a Washington Post analysis showing that Trump 2020 districts have received three times as much funding from Biden’s signature climate law as those that went the other way. Though that won’t necessarily convince every voter to welcome solar developments in their backyard, when the margins of victory are this slim, every tenth of a percent of the vote counts.
Voters don’t hate clean energy, but they also don’t want to work for it.
The re-election of Donald Trump all but assures that the next four years of climate policy will have to unfold at the local level. With a climate change denier who previously wreaked havoc on longstanding environmental regulations, opened wildlife refuges to drilling, and put the U.S. at odds with its international partners now set to return to the White House in January, the country will almost certainly fall far short of its 2030 emission reduction targets. But state and local policies can still achieve meaningful progress on their own: On Wednesday morning, green organizers like Climate Cabinet were already stressing that “it will now be up to state leaders to hold the line against Trump and to ensure continued progress toward clean energy.”
Will Americans defend and advance that progress, though? The results of several climate-related ballot measures that were put to vote Tuesday night are giving mixed signals.
On the one hand, there were a number of victories worth celebrating. Most significantly, Washington voters confirmed their state’s cap-and-invest carbon trading program, which pumps millions of dollars into local transit, environmental, and decarbonization projects. Voters across the country also signed off on creating climate- and conservation-related bonds and funds, including in Honolulu, Louisiana, Jefferson County, Iowa, Minnesota, and (likely) the state of California. Local transit-related measures also, on the whole, had a good night.
But there were some concerning rejections, too. Two counties on the southern Oregon coast expressed overwhelming (though non-binding) opposition to offshore wind development in their region, with some 80% of voters in Curry County signaling their objection. Two-thirds of voters in Berkeley, California — one of the most liberal cities in the country — also rejected what would have been a first-in-the-nation tax on natural gas in large buildings. In Washington, early results on an initiative that is still too close to call show voters on track to approve a measure that would bar cities, towns, and the state from “prohibiting, penalizing, or discouraging” gas appliances in buildings — “discouraging” being the operative, ill-defined, and all-encompassing word — threatening Seattle’s 2050 net-zero emissions target.
South Dakotans also rejected a bill that would have smoothed the permitting process for a carbon dioxide pipeline that would carry CO2 from ethanol plants to an injection well in North Dakota as a means of dealing with planet-warming emissions. Though CO2 pipelines are controversial and have “strange politics,” as Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo has written, the citizen-led backlash was often couched in the language of opposing out-of-state interests who were “going to make a buck from the future energy transition.”
My read of the night’s referenda and ballot measures is that voters largely seem willing to do the passive work of supporting climate and environmental policy (for instance by directing the use of property taxes or reconfirming a law already in place) and less willing to voluntarily take on some of the burden themselves, in the form of hosting new development in their communities or opting into transitions away from climate-polluting fuels. This isn’t terribly surprising — local battles over the energy transition are common and frequent enough that we have a whole weekly newsletter here at Heatmap addressing them — but it also suggests that there isn’t nearly enough momentum to prevent potentially catastrophic backsliding under four more years of Trump.
There is good news, though. Local policy is often nimbler and more responsive than state- or federal-level policy. It’s also something anyone can get involved in, and there is presently a wide-open opportunity to convince Americans to embrace a clean energy economy and build things. The seemingly total failure of the current administration to capitalize on the benefits of the Inflation Reduction Act, however, does mean that climate, transit, environmental justice, decarbonization, and conservation organizers and activists will have their work cut out for them in the next years to come.
But it isn’t impossible, even if it is uphill sledding. As Climate Cabinet’s Caroline Spears put it in her Wednesday morning note, “It’s time to go back to our roots, dig deep, and rebuild our democracy and climate progress from the local level up.”
South Dakotans successfully fought back against a law that would have made it easier to permit and build.
South Dakota voters have rejected a ballot measure that would have eased the permitting process for a highly contentious carbon dioxide pipeline. The planned $8 billion project, developed by Summit Carbon Solutions, would carry CO2 captured from ethanol plants to sequestration wells in neighboring North Dakota. But if the company had been banking on legislative relief for its siting challenges, it will have to figure out a new plan to move forward.
Referred Law 21, as the measure was called, was a citizen-led veto referendum on a bill that passed the South Dakota legislature and was signed by the governor in March. The bill would have preempted all local land use regulations and ordinances related to the siting of carbon dioxide pipelines and other transmission infrastructure, including power lines. Full authority to permit these projects would have been handed to the state’s utility commission, an elected three-member body that regulates utilities.
Summit Carbon Solutions is trying to build what would be the largest pipeline designed to carry carbon dioxide in the United States. From a climate perspective, putting debates on land use and local control aside, the calculus of the project is complicated.
Ethanol refineries are ripe for carbon capture — they emit a very pure stream of CO2 that is technologically easy to capture, and it’s better that it be buried underground than dumped in the atmosphere. But the long term prospects for ethanol in a low-carbon future are murky at best, and investing $8 billion in carbon capture and pipeline infrastructure could help justify its continued use over other, potentially better solutions. Though it’s clear electric cars will eventually crowd out ethanol from the passenger vehicle fuel market, some advocate for the industry to pivot to aviation fuel.
The pipeline faces opposition throughout the Midwest from a diverse coalition of stakeholders, including landowners in the pipeline’s path, environmental groups like the Sierra Club that oppose carbon capture in general, and Republican legislators who question the project’s merits on the grounds that climate change is merely a “hypothesis.” Though CO2 pipelines generally have a good track record for safety, a high-profile rupture in Mississippi in 2020, which sent 45 people to the hospital, has also amplified concerns.
At least five municipalities in South Dakota have passed rules governing the siting of the pipeline, Chase Jensen, a senior organizer for the environmental nonprofit Dakota Rural Action told me on a call last week. For example, Minnehaha County, the home of Sioux Falls, adopted setback rules last year that require pipelines to be laid 330 feet away from residential areas, businesses, and churches. An ordinance in Lincoln County requires 1,855 feet, and prohibits construction on sites of historical or archeological significance.
“Everybody who's going to make a buck from the future energy transition is licking their chops at this,” Jensen said of Referred Law 21, which would have preempted these ordinances. “It's a lot easier to just make campaign donations to three public utility commissioners than the 300-plus county commissioners across the state.”
The bill signed into law in March was painted as a compromise. Though it weakened local control, it gave counties the ability to charge pipeline companies a tax of $1 per linear foot of pipe installed. It also included a so-called “Landowner Bill of Rights” that enshrined certain protections like ensuring the pipeline’s developer is liable for damages caused by the project, and designating a minimum depth at which the pipeline must be buried.
But Jensen and others who opposed argued it didn’t offer landowners anything new — some of its provisions are already afforded by South Dakota law, and others had already been negotiated with Summit Carbon Solutions. Jensen pointed out that the utility commission already has the ability to override local ordinances if it finds them to be overly restrictive.
Now, with control over pipeline siting back squarely in the hands of local authorities, the future of the Summit project in South Dakota is unclear. The utility commission already rejected the company’s initial application for construction permits last year; Summit has since altered its route and reapplied.
Martin Lockman, a climate law fellow at Columbia Law School, told me it was difficult to take away a clear message from the fight, in part because CO2 pipelines have strange politics. Coalitions for and against them don’t break down over party lines or traditional groups like environmentalists versus fossil fuel companies. Some climate advocates, as well as experts in the U.S. Department of Energy, say we’ll need to build many thousands of miles of new carbon pipelines in order to help us sequester carbon captured from industrial facilities and from the atmosphere.
The specific arguments over the Summit project may not apply to projects proposed elsewhere, Lockman told me, but its fate could still have ripple effects. “Any kind of high profile failure might make investors a little bit more leery to participate in this kind of project,” he said.