Massachusetts Aims for Clean Energy. What Are the Challenges in Achieving It?
An initiative aimed at providing clean energy to Massachusetts has become mired in bureaucratic delays.
TroibNews 
On a sunny Monday in the summer of 2016, Massachusetts Governor Charlie Baker signed a bill outside the Bay State's gold-domed statehouse, aimed at ensuring that “Massachusetts and New England can remain a leader in clean and renewable energy production.” The legislation sought to reduce the region's carbon emissions while keeping electricity costs stable. Consequently, the Baker administration was empowered to oversee the procurement of clean electricity from sources such as wind turbines off the southern coast and hydropower from Canada. However, since Massachusetts shares no direct border with Canada, any new hydropower would need to pass through a neighboring state, which quickly raised complications.
Firstly, constructing a massive transmission line—essentially a giant extension cord—was required to connect the Canadian power to Massachusetts's grid. After reviewing various proposals, Baker's administration opted in 2018 to build a 192-mile transmission line extending south from Canada through New Hampshire. However, securing New Hampshire’s agreement proved challenging.
As plans became more public, New Hampshire expressed concerns. The proposed line would traverse the iconic White Mountain National Forest, prompting environmental groups like the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests to voice their objections. Residents felt their natural landscapes were being compromised for the benefit of Massachusetts’s energy needs. By the end of 2018, a New Hampshire siting board rejected the project, forcing Massachusetts to seek alternatives.
Baker then turned to Maine, hoping it might assist. Governed at the time by Republican Paul LePage, Maine presented itself as a “Vacationland” and saw Massachusetts's request for hydropower as leverage. LePage recognized that if Massachusetts was willing to invest, he could negotiate concessions. The construction of the line would financially benefit Mainers, as the project’s owner would pay for land usage and possibly allow Maine to access Canadian power at discounted rates. Therefore, LePage supported Central Maine Power, a subsidiary of Avangrid, in their proposal for what became known as New England Clean Energy Connect (NECEC).
Initially projected to cost $950 million—over half a billion less than the New Hampshire plan—NECEC evolved into more than just a transmission line, as engineers proposed connections to wind farms in western Maine. Avangrid estimated the project would create 1,700 jobs and claimed that imported Canadian power would help stabilize or even lower energy costs in Maine. The proposal promised more than $18 million in new local tax revenues, and crucially, Massachusetts would cover the full expense, making it a large financial boon to Maine.
Despite the apparent benefits, securing approval for the project proved complex. Advocates promoting clean power for Massachusetts encountered significant resistance over the next decade, stemming from an ironic clash within progressive ideology—namely, the push for large-scale projects versus a critical stance against unchecked authority.
Decades ago, during the establishment of government-run utilities, decision-makers were granted broad discretion without facing second-guessing. By the late 20th century, progressives began advocating for reforms that increased scrutiny and aimed to shield citizens from potential abuses by powerful interests. However, NECEC’s backers found the resulting checks and balances complicated their project considerably, exposing internal conflicts that weakened the progressive movement from within.
Similar to their New Hampshire neighbors, many Mainers began to feel they were being "used" by Massachusetts. Environmental organizations raised alarms about the potential harm to the North Maine Woods. Beyond the aesthetic concerns, the new line threatened to cut through pristine woodlands and cross the Appalachian Trail multiple times, impacting Maine's tourism appeal.
Financial concerns also emerged. Avangrid's plan included supplying up to a sixth of Massachusetts's electricity, sufficient to power 1.2 million homes. This new supply would likely reduce demand for older, more polluting power plants that had invested significant sums, leading to a peculiar situation where preservationists teamed up with fossil fuel advocates in opposition to NECEC.
Initially, NECEC's proponents appeared to have the upper hand by building relationships with the towns involved, highlighting various benefits including improved electricity reliability and a $50 million fund to alleviate electricity costs. Many municipal boards supported the project, leading some to believe that its approval was a foregone conclusion—especially given its endorsements from figures like LePage and interest groups focused on climate change.
However, as coalitions of conservationists, local residents, and established energy producers organized, they produced compelling counter-arguments against NECEC. The project required numerous governmental approvals, pressing state agencies to rigorously evaluate its environmental impacts. This regulatory labyrinth posed an existential challenge: if opponents could persuade any of these agencies to deny the project, they could effectively halt it.
Recognizing the potential for backlash, Avangrid began making further concessions. Executives allocated $22 million for tourism-related conservation efforts, agreed to bury wires along the Kennebec River to mitigate visual disruptions, and enhanced the compensation package for Maine's residents, ultimately pledging $258 million—more than what had been offered to New Hampshire.
These concessions influenced key environmental organizations to support NECEC, granting Governor Mills political space to endorse the project, which helped secure the necessary public utility approvals in April. Yet sentiments of being manipulated by Massachusetts fueled opposition, leading to new vigils for NECEC's detractors.
Opponents pivoted to shift public opinion, launching a sophisticated campaign funded primarily by fossil fuel companies. Local conservation groups spearheaded the “Stop the Corridor” initiative, releasing reports on the project’s potential environmental damage and rallying public support in towns along the corridor. Despite many of these towns initially being supportive, residents mobilized against the line, igniting fears that local landscapes would be compromised.
With 2019 winding down, NECEC's opponents solidified a dual-pronged strategy emphasizing regulatory scrutiny while also exploring pathways to legislate additional hurdles through referenda. While the latter effort gained traction, the first goal concentrated on compelling regulatory bodies to rigorously assess impacts, making it clear that inadequate evaluations could be politically costly.
Ultimately, Maine's Land Use Planning Commission faced contentious debates regarding environmental protection in assessing Avangrid’s compliance with state standards, particularly concerning pristine areas like the Kennebec River Gorge and the Appalachian Trail. Following substantial negotiation and strategic route alterations, the commission ultimately certified the project.
With the necessary approvals secured, Avangrid began preparations for construction. Meanwhile, opponents resorted to legal challenges, claiming that permits were improperly granted or that the Army Corps of Engineers overlooked critical environmental considerations. While initial court challenges faltered, opponents remained determined to leverage public sentiment and engage in more referendum strategies.
In early 2020, the fight escalated as opponents gathered enough signatures to propose a referendum aimed at nullifying the project’s permits. Avangrid contested the legality of the referendum, but Maine’s Supreme Court ruled in favor of holding the vote, igniting a pivotal moment for NECEC.
The battle over "Question 1" turned into a nationwide focal point for energy policy, with substantial financial backing on both sides—approximately $70 million was spent in campaigning. Key political figures, including Governors Mills and Baker, along with Secretary of Energy Granholm, advocated for the project, framing its approval as essential for clean energy advancement.
Despite the backing, opponents capitalized on historical grievances against Massachusetts, creating a compelling narrative that resonated with many voters. In a decisive election, Maine residents approved the referendum, an outcome that significantly shifted the landscape for NECEC.
Following the referendum, Avangrid filed lawsuits citing constitutional violations, while also suspending construction. Although the company presented an argument for vested rights to complete the line, the state of Maine contended that expedited action had deprived voters of their agency. Ultimately, the Maine Supreme Court ruled in favor of Avangrid, allowing the project to proceed.
Nevertheless, burgeoning issues soon emerged regarding the project's finances. The budget initially set at $950 million had bloated to an estimated $1.5 billion due to inflation and delays. As Massachusetts progressed toward goals for reducing carbon emissions, uncertainty loomed over NECEC's future viability and role in the broader climate strategy.
After extensive reviews and deliberations, the project remained at a standstill, with significant portions of the construction incomplete, further complicating its trajectory. NECEC symbolizes a singular energy project within a vast network, yet its obstacles reflect a broader struggle to navigate the complexities of renewable energy accessibility and implementation.
The challenges facing NECEC underscore the difficulties of establishing a reliable and effective clean energy infrastructure. Even if there is collective will for transitioning away from fossil fuels, the processes in place to adjudicate and approve clean energy projects reveal systemic frustrations that could impede progress against climate change. From national perspectives to local initiatives, the route to a more sustainable energy future remains uncertain.
From the book WHY NOTHING WORKS: Who Killed Progress—and How to Bring It Back by Marc J. Dunkelman. Copyright © 2025 by Marc J. Dunkelman. Reprinted by permission of Public Affairs, an imprint of Basic Books Group, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. New York, NY, USA. All rights reserved.As the saga of NECEC continues to unfold, it serves as a crucial case study—demonstrating how complex and multifaceted energy projects become entangled in regulatory frameworks, public sentiment, and political maneuvering. The challenges associated with the NECEC initiative highlight broader concerns that are affecting not just Maine but also similar clean energy projects across the United States.
The situation exemplifies a critical crossroads for environmental policy. While the ambition to transition to renewable energy is formidable, the path remains obstructed by a myriad of factors, including entrenched interests, local opposition based on practical concerns, and a general skepticism toward outside influences. The disparity between environmental aspirations and public sentiment is stark; the energy transition needed to combat climate change relies on grassroots support and local acceptance, yet the complex nature of large-scale projects often fails to engage community stakeholders adequately.
Another dynamic at play is the political landscape. As seen in Maine, leaders often find themselves straddling competing priorities: the need for clean energy to meet climate goals and the demand to protect local interests. The evolving perspectives of political figures can dramatically impact the trajectory of energy projects. For example, Governor Mills' shift from initial skepticism to later support for NECEC underscores how political winds can change based on public opinion, negotiations with stakeholders, and emerging data.
Moreover, the NECEC situation illustrates the tension between large-scale infrastructure projects and the environmental concerns they inevitably raise. The local opposition—ranging from environmentalists concerned about the impact on ecosystems to residents feeling that their landscapes are threatened—demonstrates a growing realization that sustainability efforts cannot occur at the expense of local communities' rights and landscapes. This has profound implications for any future energy transitions; without genuine engagement of local populations and consideration of their needs, projects may consistently falter.
As stakeholders assess the viability of NECEC, they must also navigate a shifting regulatory environment that prioritizes public engagement and accountability. Any future permitting processes may incorporate lessons learned from NECEC and similar projects, potentially leading to more inclusive decision-making processes. The efficacy of these approaches can, in turn, significantly influence the speed and success of renewable energy deployment nationwide.
Additionally, the investment implications of NECEC resonate throughout the energy sector. The uncertainty surrounding the project can deter potential investors from financing similar initiatives. Concerns about regulatory stability and the potential for community backlash pose risks that can affect loan terms and financial backing. If financial institutions perceive heightened risks associated with large energy projects, they may recalibrate lending practices, hindering progress on sustainable infrastructure.
NECEC's challenges and outcomes could also have cascading effects that go beyond Maine. With many states striving to enhance their clean energy sources, the legal battles, public referenda, and changing political representations within Maine may inspire similar movements elsewhere. If the referendum process empowers local communities to have a say in large energy projects, it could trigger a wave of grassroots opposition that stalls or transforms renewable energy ambitions across the country.
In conclusion, the NECEC story is a microcosm of the broader struggles facing the United States as it seeks to transition away from fossil fuels. While the need and desire for clean energy are more pronounced than ever, the obstacles that arise from community concerns, regulatory complexities, and political divides complicate the journey. The path forward will necessitate not only innovation in technology but also a commitment to forging genuine relationships with local communities. Achieving a sustainable future will ultimately hinge on addressing these challenges in a balanced manner, ensuring energy transitions are inclusive, equitable, and just.
As this discourse continues, NECEC stands as a vital reminder that while the stakes for addressing climate change are high, how society approaches the challenges of scaling up clean energy will define the outcomes for generations to come.
From the book WHY NOTHING WORKS: Who Killed Progress—and How to Bring It Back by Marc J.
Dunkelman. Copyright © 2025 by Marc J. Dunkelman. Reprinted by permission of Public Affairs, an
imprint of Basic Books Group, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. New York, NY, USA. All rights
reserved.
Jessica Kline for TROIB News
Firstly, constructing a massive transmission line—essentially a giant extension cord—was required to connect the Canadian power to Massachusetts's grid. After reviewing various proposals, Baker's administration opted in 2018 to build a 192-mile transmission line extending south from Canada through New Hampshire. However, securing New Hampshire’s agreement proved challenging.
As plans became more public, New Hampshire expressed concerns. The proposed line would traverse the iconic White Mountain National Forest, prompting environmental groups like the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests to voice their objections. Residents felt their natural landscapes were being compromised for the benefit of Massachusetts’s energy needs. By the end of 2018, a New Hampshire siting board rejected the project, forcing Massachusetts to seek alternatives.
Baker then turned to Maine, hoping it might assist. Governed at the time by Republican Paul LePage, Maine presented itself as a “Vacationland” and saw Massachusetts's request for hydropower as leverage. LePage recognized that if Massachusetts was willing to invest, he could negotiate concessions. The construction of the line would financially benefit Mainers, as the project’s owner would pay for land usage and possibly allow Maine to access Canadian power at discounted rates. Therefore, LePage supported Central Maine Power, a subsidiary of Avangrid, in their proposal for what became known as New England Clean Energy Connect (NECEC).
Initially projected to cost $950 million—over half a billion less than the New Hampshire plan—NECEC evolved into more than just a transmission line, as engineers proposed connections to wind farms in western Maine. Avangrid estimated the project would create 1,700 jobs and claimed that imported Canadian power would help stabilize or even lower energy costs in Maine. The proposal promised more than $18 million in new local tax revenues, and crucially, Massachusetts would cover the full expense, making it a large financial boon to Maine.
Despite the apparent benefits, securing approval for the project proved complex. Advocates promoting clean power for Massachusetts encountered significant resistance over the next decade, stemming from an ironic clash within progressive ideology—namely, the push for large-scale projects versus a critical stance against unchecked authority.
Decades ago, during the establishment of government-run utilities, decision-makers were granted broad discretion without facing second-guessing. By the late 20th century, progressives began advocating for reforms that increased scrutiny and aimed to shield citizens from potential abuses by powerful interests. However, NECEC’s backers found the resulting checks and balances complicated their project considerably, exposing internal conflicts that weakened the progressive movement from within.
Similar to their New Hampshire neighbors, many Mainers began to feel they were being "used" by Massachusetts. Environmental organizations raised alarms about the potential harm to the North Maine Woods. Beyond the aesthetic concerns, the new line threatened to cut through pristine woodlands and cross the Appalachian Trail multiple times, impacting Maine's tourism appeal.
Financial concerns also emerged. Avangrid's plan included supplying up to a sixth of Massachusetts's electricity, sufficient to power 1.2 million homes. This new supply would likely reduce demand for older, more polluting power plants that had invested significant sums, leading to a peculiar situation where preservationists teamed up with fossil fuel advocates in opposition to NECEC.
Initially, NECEC's proponents appeared to have the upper hand by building relationships with the towns involved, highlighting various benefits including improved electricity reliability and a $50 million fund to alleviate electricity costs. Many municipal boards supported the project, leading some to believe that its approval was a foregone conclusion—especially given its endorsements from figures like LePage and interest groups focused on climate change.
However, as coalitions of conservationists, local residents, and established energy producers organized, they produced compelling counter-arguments against NECEC. The project required numerous governmental approvals, pressing state agencies to rigorously evaluate its environmental impacts. This regulatory labyrinth posed an existential challenge: if opponents could persuade any of these agencies to deny the project, they could effectively halt it.
Recognizing the potential for backlash, Avangrid began making further concessions. Executives allocated $22 million for tourism-related conservation efforts, agreed to bury wires along the Kennebec River to mitigate visual disruptions, and enhanced the compensation package for Maine's residents, ultimately pledging $258 million—more than what had been offered to New Hampshire.
These concessions influenced key environmental organizations to support NECEC, granting Governor Mills political space to endorse the project, which helped secure the necessary public utility approvals in April. Yet sentiments of being manipulated by Massachusetts fueled opposition, leading to new vigils for NECEC's detractors.
Opponents pivoted to shift public opinion, launching a sophisticated campaign funded primarily by fossil fuel companies. Local conservation groups spearheaded the “Stop the Corridor” initiative, releasing reports on the project’s potential environmental damage and rallying public support in towns along the corridor. Despite many of these towns initially being supportive, residents mobilized against the line, igniting fears that local landscapes would be compromised.
With 2019 winding down, NECEC's opponents solidified a dual-pronged strategy emphasizing regulatory scrutiny while also exploring pathways to legislate additional hurdles through referenda. While the latter effort gained traction, the first goal concentrated on compelling regulatory bodies to rigorously assess impacts, making it clear that inadequate evaluations could be politically costly.
Ultimately, Maine's Land Use Planning Commission faced contentious debates regarding environmental protection in assessing Avangrid’s compliance with state standards, particularly concerning pristine areas like the Kennebec River Gorge and the Appalachian Trail. Following substantial negotiation and strategic route alterations, the commission ultimately certified the project.
With the necessary approvals secured, Avangrid began preparations for construction. Meanwhile, opponents resorted to legal challenges, claiming that permits were improperly granted or that the Army Corps of Engineers overlooked critical environmental considerations. While initial court challenges faltered, opponents remained determined to leverage public sentiment and engage in more referendum strategies.
In early 2020, the fight escalated as opponents gathered enough signatures to propose a referendum aimed at nullifying the project’s permits. Avangrid contested the legality of the referendum, but Maine’s Supreme Court ruled in favor of holding the vote, igniting a pivotal moment for NECEC.
The battle over "Question 1" turned into a nationwide focal point for energy policy, with substantial financial backing on both sides—approximately $70 million was spent in campaigning. Key political figures, including Governors Mills and Baker, along with Secretary of Energy Granholm, advocated for the project, framing its approval as essential for clean energy advancement.
Despite the backing, opponents capitalized on historical grievances against Massachusetts, creating a compelling narrative that resonated with many voters. In a decisive election, Maine residents approved the referendum, an outcome that significantly shifted the landscape for NECEC.
Following the referendum, Avangrid filed lawsuits citing constitutional violations, while also suspending construction. Although the company presented an argument for vested rights to complete the line, the state of Maine contended that expedited action had deprived voters of their agency. Ultimately, the Maine Supreme Court ruled in favor of Avangrid, allowing the project to proceed.
Nevertheless, burgeoning issues soon emerged regarding the project's finances. The budget initially set at $950 million had bloated to an estimated $1.5 billion due to inflation and delays. As Massachusetts progressed toward goals for reducing carbon emissions, uncertainty loomed over NECEC's future viability and role in the broader climate strategy.
After extensive reviews and deliberations, the project remained at a standstill, with significant portions of the construction incomplete, further complicating its trajectory. NECEC symbolizes a singular energy project within a vast network, yet its obstacles reflect a broader struggle to navigate the complexities of renewable energy accessibility and implementation.
The challenges facing NECEC underscore the difficulties of establishing a reliable and effective clean energy infrastructure. Even if there is collective will for transitioning away from fossil fuels, the processes in place to adjudicate and approve clean energy projects reveal systemic frustrations that could impede progress against climate change. From national perspectives to local initiatives, the route to a more sustainable energy future remains uncertain.
From the book WHY NOTHING WORKS: Who Killed Progress—and How to Bring It Back by Marc J. Dunkelman. Copyright © 2025 by Marc J. Dunkelman. Reprinted by permission of Public Affairs, an imprint of Basic Books Group, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. New York, NY, USA. All rights reserved.As the saga of NECEC continues to unfold, it serves as a crucial case study—demonstrating how complex and multifaceted energy projects become entangled in regulatory frameworks, public sentiment, and political maneuvering. The challenges associated with the NECEC initiative highlight broader concerns that are affecting not just Maine but also similar clean energy projects across the United States.
The situation exemplifies a critical crossroads for environmental policy. While the ambition to transition to renewable energy is formidable, the path remains obstructed by a myriad of factors, including entrenched interests, local opposition based on practical concerns, and a general skepticism toward outside influences. The disparity between environmental aspirations and public sentiment is stark; the energy transition needed to combat climate change relies on grassroots support and local acceptance, yet the complex nature of large-scale projects often fails to engage community stakeholders adequately.
Another dynamic at play is the political landscape. As seen in Maine, leaders often find themselves straddling competing priorities: the need for clean energy to meet climate goals and the demand to protect local interests. The evolving perspectives of political figures can dramatically impact the trajectory of energy projects. For example, Governor Mills' shift from initial skepticism to later support for NECEC underscores how political winds can change based on public opinion, negotiations with stakeholders, and emerging data.
Moreover, the NECEC situation illustrates the tension between large-scale infrastructure projects and the environmental concerns they inevitably raise. The local opposition—ranging from environmentalists concerned about the impact on ecosystems to residents feeling that their landscapes are threatened—demonstrates a growing realization that sustainability efforts cannot occur at the expense of local communities' rights and landscapes. This has profound implications for any future energy transitions; without genuine engagement of local populations and consideration of their needs, projects may consistently falter.
As stakeholders assess the viability of NECEC, they must also navigate a shifting regulatory environment that prioritizes public engagement and accountability. Any future permitting processes may incorporate lessons learned from NECEC and similar projects, potentially leading to more inclusive decision-making processes. The efficacy of these approaches can, in turn, significantly influence the speed and success of renewable energy deployment nationwide.
Additionally, the investment implications of NECEC resonate throughout the energy sector. The uncertainty surrounding the project can deter potential investors from financing similar initiatives. Concerns about regulatory stability and the potential for community backlash pose risks that can affect loan terms and financial backing. If financial institutions perceive heightened risks associated with large energy projects, they may recalibrate lending practices, hindering progress on sustainable infrastructure.
NECEC's challenges and outcomes could also have cascading effects that go beyond Maine. With many states striving to enhance their clean energy sources, the legal battles, public referenda, and changing political representations within Maine may inspire similar movements elsewhere. If the referendum process empowers local communities to have a say in large energy projects, it could trigger a wave of grassroots opposition that stalls or transforms renewable energy ambitions across the country.
In conclusion, the NECEC story is a microcosm of the broader struggles facing the United States as it seeks to transition away from fossil fuels. While the need and desire for clean energy are more pronounced than ever, the obstacles that arise from community concerns, regulatory complexities, and political divides complicate the journey. The path forward will necessitate not only innovation in technology but also a commitment to forging genuine relationships with local communities. Achieving a sustainable future will ultimately hinge on addressing these challenges in a balanced manner, ensuring energy transitions are inclusive, equitable, and just.
As this discourse continues, NECEC stands as a vital reminder that while the stakes for addressing climate change are high, how society approaches the challenges of scaling up clean energy will define the outcomes for generations to come.
From the book WHY NOTHING WORKS: Who Killed Progress—and How to Bring It Back by Marc J.
Dunkelman. Copyright © 2025 by Marc J. Dunkelman. Reprinted by permission of Public Affairs, an
imprint of Basic Books Group, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. New York, NY, USA. All rights
reserved.
Jessica Kline for TROIB News
