In a year marked by political upheaval and shifting winds—both literal and figurative—the United States’ offshore wind industry has found itself at a dramatic crossroads. Once hailed as a cornerstone of the nation’s clean energy future, offshore wind is now facing its most formidable opposition yet, with efforts led by both high-profile political figures and grassroots activists. While the rest of the world races ahead with innovative wind-powered shipping and ambitious decarbonization targets, the U.S. has seen its offshore wind ambitions nearly ground to a halt.
At the heart of this sea change is a complex interplay of policy, activism, and technological innovation. According to reporting from CleanTechnica, President Donald Trump began 2025 by launching a determined campaign against offshore wind turbines, halting a nearly finished wind farm, clawing back $679 million in grants, and canceling permits for three other massive projects. Multiple fully permitted ventures have been shelved, and new development in the U.S. now seems nearly impossible. The consequences are particularly acute for the Northeast, where offshore wind was expected to lower emissions, reduce power bills, shore up grid reliability, and bring jobs to struggling port towns.
But the story of offshore wind’s struggle in America is not just about top-down political action. As Canary Media and The Post and Courier have documented, much of the opposition has been carefully cultivated over years by activists like David Stevenson, a 75-year-old former policy director at the Caesar Rodney Institute. Stevenson, who describes himself as a lifelong conservationist and drives a hybrid vehicle, has spent nearly a decade organizing lawsuits, protests, and public campaigns against offshore wind farms in U.S. waters. In January 2025, a Brown University study identified Stevenson as the central figure in the anti-offshore wind movement, connecting him to a network of activists and so-called "dark money" groups backed by fossil-fuel interests.
Stevenson’s motivations are complicated. He acknowledges the reality of climate change and even has a background in clean energy, having helped develop coatings for solar panels and wind turbine blades during his time at DuPont in the 1980s. Yet, he argues that nuclear and solar are more affordable and reliable energy sources than offshore wind, which he deems too expensive and insufficiently assessed for environmental impact. "I don’t care if people hate me or not," Stevenson told a reporter this year. "I’m doing what I think is right."
His activism has been remarkably effective. Stevenson began his anti-wind campaign in earnest in 2017, organizing local residents under banners like Save Our Beach View and, later, the American Coalition for Ocean Protection. He helped activists in other states establish nonprofits and orchestrated monthly calls to coordinate opposition along the East Coast. Through relentless messaging—sometimes containing misleading claims about property values, tourism, and power costs—these groups delayed projects such as the Skipjack Wind Farm off Maryland’s coast, pushing construction back by years. According to filings, Stevenson’s think tank, Caesar Rodney Institute, received donations from fossil-fuel interests, further fueling the movement.
The anti-wind campaign’s messaging found a powerful symbol in whales. In early 2023, a series of whale deaths along the New Jersey and New York coasts became fodder for conservative media, with activists and outlets speculating—contrary to scientific consensus—that offshore wind development was to blame. Stevenson himself stopped short of making direct accusations, noting that vessel strikes, not wind development, were the biggest threat to whales in the region. Still, he recognized the issue’s potential to sway public opinion and federal courts. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, however, maintains that "there is no scientific evidence that noise resulting from offshore wind site characterization surveys could potentially cause whale deaths."
As the political winds shifted, so too did the tactics of opposition. The Trump administration’s crackdown on offshore wind was swift and decisive. On his first day back in office in January 2025, Trump issued an executive order pausing all permitting activity, calling wind installations “big” and “ugly” to a stadium of supporters. The administration went further, with Interior Secretary Doug Burgum alleging—without evidence—that wind projects posed national security risks, such as making the U.S. vulnerable to underwater drone attacks. While some Republicans, like Steve Haner of the Thomas Jefferson Institute, objected to halting projects already under construction due to the financial burden on ratepayers, the overall effect has been a near-total freeze on new offshore wind development.
Industry projections have plummeted. BloombergNEF initially expected 39 gigawatts of new offshore wind capacity by 2035. With Trump’s policies and the rollback of tax credits, that estimate has fallen off a cliff—now standing at just 6 gigawatts. According to J. Timmons Roberts of Brown University, who led the study on anti-wind activism, "They are clearly feeling emboldened by Donald Trump." The sense of victory among wind opponents is palpable, even as utility bills in the Northeast—ironically, Stevenson’s original motivation for opposing wind—have soared and are expected to rise further if current policies persist.
Meanwhile, the rest of the world is pressing ahead. The UK-based firm GT Wings, for example, is pioneering new wind propulsion technology for global shipping. Their AirWing device, inspired by Formula 1 racing and aerospace engineering, promises fuel savings of up to 30% for retrofitted ships and 50% for new builds. Supported by more than £5 million in grants and investment—including a recent £1 million from the UK government and private capital from Norway’s Grieg Kapital—GT Wings is preparing for large-scale deployment. As CEO George Thompson told BBC News, about 40,000 vessels—half the world’s fleet—could potentially be retrofitted with AirWing devices. The European Commission’s FuelEU Maritime regulations, effective January 1, 2025, are further accelerating the shift, requiring ships over 5,000 gross tonnage to reduce greenhouse gas emissions intensity by 2% initially, ramping up to 80% by 2050. These rules apply to all ships calling at EU ports, regardless of their flag, meaning U.S. ships are not exempt.
The contrast is stark: while the U.S. debates the merits and myths of offshore wind, Europe and global shipping are making wind power a practical reality. Even as American activists claim victory in stalling offshore wind, the march toward decarbonization continues elsewhere, driven by both regulatory pressure and technological innovation.
As the dust settles on a turbulent year for American offshore wind, the long-term consequences remain uncertain. The sector’s future may hinge on whether the current tide of obstruction gives way to renewed momentum—or whether the U.S. will be left watching from the shore as others harness the power of the wind.
