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Why Trump’s $2 Billion Buyoff To Cancel Offshore Wind Farms Is a Bad Deal for American Taxpayers and the US Energy Supply
May 27, 2026
The U.S. is in a bizarre situation in 2026: It’s facing a looming energy shortage, yet the Trump administration is making deals to pay offshore wind developers nearly US$2 billion in taxpayer money to walk away from energy projects.
These politically motivated moves are costing Americans far more than just the buyouts.
Communities have been laying the groundwork for offshore energy projects for years. Offshore wind development brings jobs and economic development that reshape regional economies, with the scale of public and private investment reaching into the hundreds of billions of dollars over years. East Coast communities have built up ports to support the industry and launched job-training programs to prepare workers. Construction, maintenance and shipping businesses have sprung up, along with secondary businesses that support the industry.
Offshore wind farms bring jobs and economic development. State Pier in New London, Conn., serves as a staging site for wind farm construction and supplies. AP Photo/Ted ShaffreyLosing the projects, and the threat of losing other planned wind farms, will also likely mean higher energy prices. And while some offshore wind farms are moving ahead, developers must account for both lost momentum and increased uncertainty from the Trump administration.
As a result, Americans will bear the economic brunt of these decisions for decades ahead.
How America got to this point
To understand how the U.S. arrived in this predicament, let’s take a step back.
In March 2023, leaders from three U.S. federal agencies under the Biden administration met with the CEOs from American technology and manufacturing giants Microsoft, Amazon, Ford, GM, Dow Chemical and GE at the annual ARPA-E Energy Innovation Summit, under the banner of “Affordable, Reliable and Secure American-Made Energy”.
They agreed on a key point: The nation was staring down a severe shortage of electrons to drive American business forward.
Fortunately, solutions abounded. Enormous amounts of onshore wind and solar power had been deployed during the previous five years. More than 80% of all new power additions to the U.S. grid had come from these two sources.
Particularly exciting were plans to build large offshore wind farms up and down the Eastern Seaboard. Taken together, the wind farms would generate 30 gigawatts of new power by 2030, enough to power more than 10 million homes and reduce volatility in energy pricing thanks to long-term power purchase agreements.
The U.S. had one small wind farm at the time, off Rhode Island, and two wind turbines off Virginia, but Europe had been operating large offshore wind projects for over two decades and was building more.
In the months following the 2023 meeting, leasing and permitting for the U.S. mega projects continued, and in some areas construction got underway.
A map of offshore wind lease areas shows how many companies have paid the U.S. to lease areas of ocean for offshore wind farms. A few wind farms off New England are already operating. The lease areas where the Trump administration used taxpayer money to persuade companies to drop their wind farm plans include two TotalEnergies leases – Attentive Energy, off New Jersey, and a lease area off South Carolina – and Bluepoint Wind, also off New Jersey. U.S. Bureau of Ocean Energy Management
Then, the Trump administration arrived in 2025. As president, Donald Trump immediately issued an executive order to halt offshore wind lease sales and any approvals, permits or loans for wind farms. He had made his disdain for wind power clear ever since he lost a fight to stop construction of a small wind farm near his golf course in Scotland in the 2010s.
After a federal judge declared Trump’s executive order unconstitutional in December 2025, the administration shifted strategies.
In March 2026, news outlets began reporting on deals struck in which the federal government would pay three offshore wind project developers hundreds of millions of dollars to cease development of their permitted projects, agree not to build others and repurpose the funds toward fossil fuel projects.
According to reported discussions involving the French energy company TotalEnergies, the money would be paid out through the Department of Interior’s Judgment Fund, intended for payment of legal settlements, despite there not being any active litigation with TotalEnergies.
The other projects agreeing to Trump’s buyouts as of early May were Golden State Wind, in California, and Bluepoint Wind, off New Jersey and New York. Both are co-owned by Ocean Winds, a joint venture of the French energy company Engie and EDP Renewables, headquartered in Spain. The California Energy Commission and members of Congress are now investigating the moves.
Offshore wind means local investment
Regardless of whether these buyouts are even legal, the losing parties will be the American taxpayers and a U.S. economy that needs more electrons on the grid, not fewer.
One analysis projected that deploying 40 GW along the U.S. East Coast by 2035 would generate roughly $140 billion in investment, much of it concentrated in port infrastructure and supply chain development.
New York in early 2026 announced a $300 million state grant program to expand port infrastructure supporting offshore wind. And the New Jersey Wind Port represents an investment exceeding $600 million to enable manufacturing and assembly of turbines.
Workers in New London, Conn., prepare a generator and its blades for transport to South Fork Wind’s offshore wind farm in 2023. To build an offshore wind farm requires manufacturing jobs, parts suppliers, dockworkers, crane operators, ship crews, as well as the wind farm construction crews and maintenance teams and many more businesses and their employees. AP Photo/Seth WenigIn 2025, California state lawmakers authorized $225.7 million in spending for offshore wind ports and related facilities.
For these projects to pay off for local communities, however, the regions will need to see the development of wind farms.
Killing jobs
The cancellations of the planned projects also take jobs away from hard-working, blue-collar Americans.
The construction and installation of offshore wind turbines requires the expertise of skilled electrical workers, pipe fitters, welders, pile drivers, iron workers, machinists and carpenters.
Future offshore wind costs depend on investments today. As infrastructure is established and expertise grows, each subsequent project becomes easier to build, less risky and less expensive.
This pattern is already evident globally: The levelized cost of electricity from offshore wind globally fell by 62% between 2010 and 2024.
Canceling projects or buying back leases eliminates the electricity those projects would have generated. It also slows the accumulation of experience, scale and supply chain maturity that drive costs down over time.
The result is higher costs for future projects and for electricity ratepayers.
An energy crisis
Developing a robust offshore wind industry provides resilience in the face of an unstable global energy market.
Future U.S. and global energy demand is projected to grow significantly, largely driven by the rapid expansion of AI data centers and electrification of vehicles, homes and businesses.
Limiting the supply of homegrown energy will increase energy costs for Americans, especially in the regions where the wind farms were supposed to be located – New York, New Jersey, North Carolina and California.
With the federal buyouts, the U.S. is losing 8 GW of planned electricity generation, enough to power more than 3 million homes. That generation needs to be replaced by other energy sources and expanding power transmission lines that can take seven to 10 years to get permits for and build out. The leased projects were on their way to providing new clean power generation fairly quickly. Eliminating them restarts the project clock.
Reliance on dirtier, conventional forms of power generation will increase along with foreign energy imports, such as electricity delivered from Canada to New York, leading to higher and more volatile electricity prices.
Evidence from Europe shows that offshore wind can also reduce electricity costs for consumers by lowering wholesale prices and reducing dependence on fossil fuels and their volatile prices.
Vineyard Wind I, an offshore wind farm completed in 2026, with 806 MW of generation – enough to power about 400,000 homes – is projected to save Massachusetts customers about $1.4 billion on electricity bills over the next 20 years. With a fixed-price, 20-year contract, the project also lowered prices during cold snaps and peak demand for gas, reducing volatility and cost.
From jobs to local economic development to power costs, we believe canceling these offshore wind projects is a bad deal for American taxpayers.
Why Trump’s $2 Billion Buyoff To Cancel Offshore Wind Farms Is a Bad Deal for American Taxpayers and the US Energy Supply was originally published by The Conversation and is republished with permission.
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I’m Not Optimistic About America at 250. I’m Still Hopeful.
May 26, 2026
I grew up in a place called Freedom.
Freedom, Pennsylvania, to be exact. In the borough of Economy. My high school is in a town named after the American Bridge Company. The son of an Army veteran and a nurse. A literal white picket fence. Family of five. A dog. The American Dream by many measures.
Nearly 40 years later, I'm not sure I believe in that American Dream. And I'm not alone in that doubt. This year, the United States will celebrate 250 years of independence — with fireworks, reenactments, and the familiar stories of founders and freedom. But for a lot of us, the milestone lands differently. Not as a celebration, exactly. More like a question we can't stop asking.
Independence from what? And for whom?
I've watched the definition of freedom narrow in my lifetime. I've felt the quiet suggestion — sometimes subtle, sometimes loud — that people like me are outside the frame of what this country was meant to be. And yet, queer people have always been here. In towns like mine. In families like mine. Serving, building, showing up. We were never separate from the American story; we were just edited out.
When I say I'm not sure I believe in the American Dream, I mean: I'm not sure the version I was handed was ever the whole truth. What I'm still reaching for is something underneath it — a possibility that requires participation, friction, and revision. Something that asks more from us than nostalgia.
Which brings me to hope. And how hard it is to hold onto right now. Author and civil rights activist James Baldwin once wrote, Hope — the hope that we, human beings, can be better than we are — dies hard; perhaps one can no longer live if one allows that hope to die. But it is also hard to see what one sees. Published in 1972. It could have been written this morning.
Baldwin isn't asking us to be naive. He's acknowledging the weight of seeing clearly, and choosing hope anyway. That distinction matters. Hope isn't wishful thinking. Its orientation. It's preparation. It's a practice of becoming the kind of person capable of the world you're working toward. That reframe feels important to me as I sit with the contradictions of this anniversary. I don't know if I believe in the American Dream the way I was taught to. But I do believe in the possibility of this place — and I think that belief requires me to keep acting like it's real, even when the evidence is hard to look at.
Joan Didion writes: I'm not optimistic, darling, but I'm hopeful. There's a difference. I'm hopeful.
That's what I'm aiming for. Not optimism. Optimism feels too easy, too untethered from the weight of what's actually happening. Something harder than that. Hope as a discipline. Hope is a form of showing up.
If this country is going to celebrate 250 years, let it be honest about who's been here the whole time — building it, serving it, loving it enough to expect more from it. That's not cynicism. That's the most patriotic thing I know how to do.
That, to me, feels like what it means to grow up in Freedom.
And to choose, still, to hope.
Joshua Lavra is a 2026 Public Voices Fellow of the Op-Ed Project Public Voices Fellowship on Youth Well-Being and Power with Hopelap.
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An analysis of gun violence, political extremism, Islamophobia, and community resilience in America after the San Diego Islamic Center shooting.
GemaIbarra / Getty Images
Trump Is Protecting Insurrectionists But Not Your Kids
May 26, 2026
Last Monday, two teenage gunmen opened fire outside the Islamic Center of San Diego, murdering three Muslim men. Unfortunately, this is the type of horror Americans have been conditioned to expect. After years of political stagnation on gun safety and ongoing hateful acts of violence, our president has signaled once again to children, to the Muslim community, and to everyone else: he does not care if you get shot.
Gun violence has been on the rise in the United States for too long. Perhaps the most harrowing consequence is that gun violence is now the leading cause of death among children. Whether from school shootings, homicides, suicides, or accidents, the gun-death rate for children is nearly five in every 100,000. In fact, the number of domestic deaths due to gun violence is about as many as U.S. military deaths in every war since World War I combined. More children have been lost to gun violence since 2020 than troops lost since 9/11. Yet even with such a striking death toll—and one affecting children no less—happening on our own soil, Vice President J.D. Vance calls it a “fact of life.”
If an ever-present fear of gun violence exists among American families, then we are living in an era marked by terror. When school shootings become the price of doing business, children may reasonably fear going to school, and parents may reasonably fear sending them. In fact, in 2022, a survey showed that almost half of all parents were worried about their children getting shot. Vice President Vance recommends bolstering security at schools as a remedy, but when the solution involves developing security plans that resemble those of military bases, maybe we should be talking about gun violence as the national security threat it is.
Though gun lobbyists say, “Guns don’t kill people. People kill peopleuns don’t kill people. People kill people,” as a means of misdirection, it may still be worth considering what is driving these people to kill. The answer lies heavily in a President who has been making racist, xenophobic, and Islamophobic attacks since before he was ever elected to anything. Now, he has the power to codify his malice (Trump v. Hawaii is just Korematsu in disguise) and deputize it (earlier this year in San Diego, Somali daycare providers–many of whom are Muslim–were harassed and threatened; the California Attorney General called the tactics “straight out of the Trumpian playbook”). As of Friday, Trump announced green card seekers are going to have to go back to their home countries to apply, while just this past week, Colorado law enforcement flagged that ICE’s recruitment tactics were using neo-Nazi symbology so blatantly that they feared white supremacists might take the content as a call to violence. These aren’t dog whistles, these are cat calls—with real consequences.
Trump has no interest in dousing the flames of hate; he prefers to fan them. He has no interest in funding social and mental health services; he prefers to cut them. And of course, he refuses to regulate the means of violence often used to execute this hatred. One of the San Diego shooters was previously flagged by the FBI; with better gun laws, these murders would never have happened.
The President’s selectively applied grief reveals his true priorities. Following the assassination of MAGA influencer Charlie Kirk last September, Trump established a National Day of Remembrance, and many Americans were summarily fired for failing to show adequate deference. Yet when innocent children were threatened, and when innocent protectors of those children were murdered in a fury emboldened by the executive’s own racial animus, the President could barely feign sympathy, offering a detached: “It’s a terrible situation...we’re going to be going back and looking at it very strongly.”
The President does not mind the expense or burden of federal intervention when it comes to his own safety. Just last month, he leveraged the presence of a gunman floors away from him at a hotel to demand that taxpayers foot the bill for his own personal, military-grade security infrastructure (read: his ballroom). He has consistently used the power of his office to protect his ideological allies, issuing pardons to those who attacked the Capitol and recently creating a $1.8 billion slush fund to pay out reparations to insurrectionists that looks more like an advance down payment for future incidents. One pardoned January 6th rioter has already gone on to molest two children whom he then attempted to silence with promised hush money that “he [hoped] to get from [the] slush fund.” If you are Donald Trump or willing to commit acts of violence that serve his interests, you are shielded. If you are a child in a classroom or a minority in a house of worship, you are on your own.
On that note, we may have been grieving another massacre of innocent children last week if it were not for Amin Abdullah, Mansour Kaziha, and Nader Awad, three men who stood in the crossfire to protect them. As San Diego City Councilmember Sean Elo-Rivera noted at a vigil at the Islamic Center last week, echoing Imam Taha: “Amin, Nader, and Mansour were the best of us. And they repelled evil.” To honor the memories of these three neighbors–these heroes–may we harness our own capacity to help others. Our president may be trying to lead us into a post-compassion era, but we are not obligated to follow.
In the absence of federal leadership or even basic empathy from the White House, we must become the defenders of our own communities. Comprehensive federal action may be stalled, but we can focus our energy locally. Municipal policies can help curb access to dangerous weapons and expand funding for mental health services. Plus, we as individuals can model unifying, community-building rhetoric and action, and work to elevate leaders who do too. If our compassion is to serve as the final line of defense, then we must work together to reinforce it.Julie Roland was a Naval Officer for ten years, deploying to both the South China Sea and the Persian Gulf as a helicopter pilot before separating in June 2025 as a Lieutenant Commander. She has a law degree from the University of San Diego, a Master of Laws from Columbia University, and is a member of the Truman National Security Project.
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This Mental Health Awareness Month essay explores Black masculinity, emotional wellness, HYROX training, therapy, and healing through movement.
zamrznutitonovi / Getty Images
Mental Strength Is More Than Toughness
May 26, 2026
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, but awareness alone cannot save us. Men of color are already painfully aware that something is wrong. We feel it in our sleeplessness. In our blood pressure. In the marriages that strain under emotional distance. In the fathers who never learned how to say “I’m not okay.” In the sons trying to inherit manhood from men who never permitted tenderness.
The crisis is not merely psychological. It is cultural, historical, spiritual, and physiological all at once. African Americans, particularly men, occupy one of the most paradoxical spaces in American life. We are hyper-visible in sports and entertainment. We are present in politics and public discourse. Yet we are emotionally invisible in matters of vulnerability, grief, anxiety, and depression. We are celebrated for resilience, but denied rest. Our toughness is admirable, while we are punished for transparency.
Rates of anxiety, depression, substance dependency, and suicide among Black men persist, as reported by mental health organizations. Yet in many communities, therapy remains stigmatized, and survival trumps self-examination. For generations, Black men learned emotional suppression was necessary to cope with challenges such as racism, increased policing, and workplaces where anger is labeled as aggression and sadness is seen as weakness.
Unfortunately, many men first learn to arm themselves against before discerning and loving themselves. In turn, giving way to loneliness. Loneliness is not simply about being alone. You can be in a crowded sanctuary, a packed gym, a busy office, or a loving household and still feel unseen. Loneliness is the distance between what one carries internally and what one feels safe enough to reveal.
However, it is important to recognize that survival and wellness are not the same thing. This revelation did come about on a therapist’s couch, though I deeply value therapy and encourage it. It was realized through movement. Through exhaustion. By way of training. In the discipline of choosing to pay attention to my body in a sociocultural reality that conditions Black men to ignore such until crisis forces attention.
Late last year, I immersed myself in the demanding world of HYROX training and competition. HYROX is a global fitness race. It combines endurance running with functional strength movements and has become, personally, more than an athletic challenge. Instead, it serves as a mode and means for improving my physiological architecture, spiritual recalibration, and stewarding of my mental and emotional self.
At first glance, the sport looks perfunctory. A circuit of rowing, sled pushes and pulls, wall balls, ski erg, burpees, lunges, and repeated running until the body protests. Yet in the midst of this intensity, something transformative happens when a person intentionally enters difficulty instead of merely reacting to it. Training forces me, and others, into an honest conversation with ourselves.
Treadmills don’t care about titles. The sled does not respond to ego. The rower exposes mental fatigue almost immediately. Every workout confronts illusion. Each interval asks the same question: What remains when comfort disappears? Hence, I discovered that fitness was not simply changing my body. It was reorganizing my emotional life.
Consistent training provides structure when stress threatens fragmentation. Exercise is an intervention for anxiety spirals. Running is meditation in motion. Strength training restored confidence eroded under the pressures of leadership, caregiving, ministry, public engagement, and everyday life. Beyond the physical benefits, HYROX gave me community. And that matters more than many of us realize.
In case you're wondering, there is science behind this transformation. Regular exercise reduces cortisol, improves sleep, regulates mood, stimulates endorphins, and supports cognitive health. What gets overlooked is the psychological restoration of agency. Mental unhealthiness frequently produces helplessness. Exercise reintroduces evidence of capacity. Physical progress slowly translates internally. Confidence returns. Discipline strengthens. Self-trust rebuilds itself repetition by repetition.
Still, exercise alone is not a cure-all therapy. No amount of deadlifts can replace therapy where trauma exists. No race medal can heal untreated depression. No training eliminates the need for emotional honesty, spiritual grounding, meaningful friendships, medical care, or supportive family systems. But movement can become a doorway.
Mental health is not merely about avoiding breakdown. It is about cultivating wholeness. Wholeness means recognizing that mind, body, spirit, and community are interconnected. It means rejecting the idea that masculinity needs emotional starvation. It means understanding that asking for help is not a weakness but a sign of wisdom.
Too many African American men receive affirmation only when producing income, entertainment, labor, leadership, or athleticism. Rarely are we taught that humanity has value beyond output. Notably, the absence of affirmation has consequences. It contributes to why some men isolate when struggling. Some self-medicate. Others, in silence, entertain suicidal and harmful ideations deriving from prolonged hopelessness and isolation.
We need more spaces where Black men and others can tell the truth. More fellowships are built on accountability rather than superficiality. More churches that discuss and offer therapy without shame. More men are modeling vulnerability. More conversations where “how are you?” receives an honest answer.
And yes, we need more movement. Walk. Run. Lift. Swim. Bike. Train. Stretch. Compete. Dance. Hike. Not because everyone ought to become an endurance athlete or HYROX competitor, but because the body keeps score. Stress lives somewhere physically. Grief settles somewhere physically. Anxiety manifests psychologically and physiologically. Conversely, healing requires embodiment.
For me, crossing a HYROX finish line is more than an athletic achievement. It represented resistance against despair and stagnation. It pushed back against narratives insisting Black men only deserve attention in tragedy. Every completed race becomes a declaration: I am still here. Still breathing. Still becoming. Still worthy. Still fighting for joy.
Rev. Dr. F. Willis Johnson is a spiritual entrepreneur, author, scholar-practioner whose leadership and strategies around social and racial justice issues are nationally recognized and applied.
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