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The New York Times recently profiled former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist and his increasing engagement on climate change. Many of the online comments accused him of hypocrisy. Why, they asked, did he only become concerned about climate change after leaving Congress?
It’s an understandable question.
I have spent the better part of a decade discussing climate change with Republican members of Congress and can see a frequently overlooked part of the answer. During my hundreds of one-on-one conversations with Republican senators and representatives, almost none of them deny that climate change is occurring. Most understand the science well enough, and many acknowledge privately that it presents serious long-term risks.
They don’t lack knowledge. They lack political incentives.
Members of Congress have finite political capital. Every day they must decide which issues deserve their attention. Naturally, they devote their time to the issues that voters, donors, activists, staff, and party leaders tell them matter most.
Politics is a marketplace of incentives. For decades, climate advocates have devoted their efforts to changing Republicans’ minds, but have devoted little effort to changing the incentives for Republicans to act.
The political ecosystem for Democrats could not be more different. Democrats are surrounded by organizations that continually reinforce the importance of climate policy. Environmental groups, philanthropies, labor organizations, advocacy organizations, academics, campaign donors, think tanks, and congressional staff all create an environment in which climate engagement is expected and rewarded.
Republicans experience almost none of that.
When I was quoted in the New York Times article, I described the “eco right” as “a lonely place.” I meant it literally. There are remarkably few conservative organizations whose primary mission is helping Republican elected officials develop serious climate policy. Few donors make climate engagement a condition of support. Few advocacy groups reward constructive leadership. Few congressional staff have access to a deep bench of conservative climate experts. Climate is far more often presented as a political liability than a leadership opportunity.
In that environment, addressing climate change is rarely a priority. This largely explains what puzzles many observers — that Republican leaders often become noticeably more outspoken about addressing climate change after leaving office. The science has not changed. Their incentives have.
Freed from primary elections, fundraising pressures, and the constant competition for legislative attention, they’re able to think about problems whose consequences unfold over decades instead of election cycles.
That observation leads to an uncomfortable conclusion for those of us who want stronger climate policy: Persuading Republicans that climate change is real is not just unnecessary, it’s unproductive. They know it’s real. The more important task is building the institutions that make climate engagement a priority. That means investing in conservative policy organizations, developing Republican congressional staff expertise, supporting Republican governors and state legislators, encouraging business leaders to engage, creating donor networks that reward constructive center-right leadership, and giving Republican members credible partners they can trust.
In other words, we need to make the eco-right a much less lonely place.
Building institutions requires capital, both political and financial. Today, the overwhelming majority of climate-related political spending — whether by advocacy organizations, political action committees, or philanthropically supported campaigns — flows to Democratic candidates and causes. It’s understandable. Democrats have generally been more supportive of climate action, and donors naturally want to reward those who stand with them.
But rewarding allies isn’t the same as expanding the number of them.
If the objective is durable climate policy rather than simply electing more Democrats, then the current allocation of political spending deserves reconsideration. Congress writes laws, and lasting legislation almost always requires bipartisan support. A movement that invests overwhelmingly in one party shouldn’t be surprised when the other party lacks champions, expertise, and political incentives.
Climate philanthropists, advocacy organizations, and political action committees should explicitly seek to create Republican allies by committing a more significant portion of their electoral spending to Republican candidates. This support would send a powerful signal throughout Republican politics that constructive engagement on climate change will be rewarded. More Republican candidates would respond to those incentives, and the universe of viable partners would expand.
For Republicans, the greatest opportunity lies in primary elections. While general elections determine which party governs, primaries determine what kind of Republicans and Democrats will govern. Donors should identify Republican candidates who are willing to engage on a variety of climate-related topics — from adaptation and resilience to market-based policies that reduce emissions to energy innovation — and help them succeed. The objective isn’t ideological purity. It’s to demonstrate that constructive climate leadership is politically viable within today’s Republican Party, and to give those candidates the confidence that they aren’t alone.
Over time, this approach would accomplish something today’s funding model cannot. Rather than simply rewarding an existing coalition, it would create a larger one. It would produce more Republican members who see climate engagement as compatible with conservative principles. Climate change would still be a scientific and economic challenge, but politics would no longer preclude addressing it.
Rather than increasingly evident climate change adding to political division, it could drive both parties to act. America’s biggest policy achievements have generally occurred when a president elevated an issue as a national priority and Congress responded. Tax reform, welfare reform, civil rights, and other major agreements all required presidential leadership before they produced durable bipartisan legislation.
Climate policy has not yet reached that level. While voters increasingly care about it, it does not determine presidential elections or dominate governing agendas.
The closest climate change has come to being a top-tier issue was when President George H.W. Bush signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change in 1992, but that was before addressing climate change became so partisan. More recently, President Joe Biden included clean energy tax credits in the Inflation Reduction Act. That modest success is noteworthy in part because it rode upon legislation to address inflation, a top-tier voter issue — and because the provisions were largely repealed less than three years later. Until climate change becomes a presidential-level issue — one that candidates in both parties believe they must address — Congress is unlikely to devote sustained attention to it.
That day will come. And when that moment arrives, the quality of the legislation will depend on the work being done now. If we want bipartisan climate policy tomorrow, we need to build bipartisan political capacity today.
The climate movement has spent decades rewarding allies. The next several decades should be spent adding more. Politics follows incentives more than information. If we want Republicans to lead on addressing climate change or at least become those allies, we must stop just trying to persuade them and start investing in the institutions, incentives, and people that make it possible.
