COLUMN: The 9th Circuit Shuts the Door on Young Climate Plaintiffs — Trump 1, the Future 0

COLUMN: The 9th Circuit Shuts the Door on Young Climate Plaintiffs — Trump 1, the Future 0

Introduction: Twenty-two young people, three executive orders, one closed door

June 2, 2026: The appeals court says no to the climate generation

On June 2, 2026, the Ninth Federal Circuit Court of Appeals, sitting in Portland, Oregon, confirmed the dismissal of Lighthiser v. Trump — a constitutional challenge brought by 22 young Americans from five states against three executive orders signed by President Donald Trump at the start of his second term. Those orders — Executive Order 14154, titled "Unleashing American Energy"; EO 14156, "Declaring a National Energy Emergency"; and EO 14261, "Reinvigorating America's Beautiful Clean Coal Industry" — collectively aimed to maximize fossil fuel production, obstruct renewable energy, and eliminate climate programs mandated by Congress.

A three-judge panel on the Ninth Circuit dismissed the lawsuit in an unpublished 10-page ruling — meaning the court itself did not want this decision to serve as binding precedent — after holding oral arguments on April 13, 2026. The 22 young plaintiffs, from Montana, Oregon, Hawaii, California, and Florida, represented by the nonprofit Our Children's Trust, were told that the link between the executive orders and their climate injuries was "too speculative" to establish standing. And that the injunction they requested — blocking hundreds of federal agency actions — was "unprecedented."

Eva Lighthiser: a name the planet needs to remember

Eva Lighthiser, the lead plaintiff, is from Montana. She was a teenager when the case was filed. The lawsuit, formally named Lighthiser v. Trump, was filed in May 2025. A federal district judge initially rejected it in September 2025, stating he was "troubled" by the evidence presented but felt bound by existing legal doctrine. The plaintiffs appealed. The Ninth Circuit heard oral arguments in April 2026 and issued its ruling six weeks later. At every stage, the same pattern: courts acknowledging the seriousness of the claims, then finding procedural grounds to reject them.

Ten of the 22 plaintiffs had also participated in Held v. Montana, the landmark 2023 state-level climate case that ended in victory. They knew what a courtroom win looked like. They came to the Ninth Circuit believing federal justice was possible. On June 2, 2026, they learned something different about the limits of federal law — and about the distance between what is scientifically true and what is legally actionable.

The three executive orders at the heart of the challenge

EO 14154: "Unleashing American Energy"

Executive Order 14154, signed in the first days of Trump's second term, directed federal agencies to maximize fossil fuel production on federal lands and offshore areas, roll back renewable energy regulations, and withdraw the United States from international climate commitments. It effectively reversed years of federal climate policy in a single document. The plaintiffs argued that this order directly caused harm to their constitutional right to life, liberty, and property by accelerating climate change and its consequences: wildfires, flooding, extreme heat, and ecosystem collapse.

The government responded that the causal chain between a presidential order directing energy policy and the specific climate injuries suffered by individual plaintiffs was too attenuated to establish legal standing. The Ninth Circuit agreed. It is worth pausing on what this means in practice: a court acknowledged that the plaintiffs face real climate harms, that those harms are serious, and that federal energy policy contributes to climate change — and still concluded that the legal link was too speculative for the case to proceed.

EO 14156 and EO 14261: emergency declarations for fossil fuels

EO 14156, declaring a national energy emergency, gave the executive branch broad authority to bypass environmental review processes and fast-track fossil fuel infrastructure projects. EO 14261, focused specifically on clean coal, directed agencies to revive and expand the American coal industry — a fuel source that produces the highest carbon emissions per unit of energy among all fossil fuels. Together, these three orders constituted a comprehensive effort to not only maintain but expand the United States' reliance on fossil fuels at the precise moment when climate science called for their rapid phase-out.

The plaintiffs argued that the combined effect of these three orders was to mandate actions that would predictably worsen the climate conditions these young Americans would live through for the rest of their lives. The court did not dispute the factual premise. It disputed the legal remedy: blocking "hundreds of federal agency actions" — as the plaintiffs requested — was simply not the kind of order a federal court could issue, under the separation of powers doctrine.

The legal doctrine of standing: the wall that stopped the case

What standing means and why it matters here

The legal doctrine of standing requires plaintiffs to demonstrate three things: a concrete injury, a causal link between that injury and the defendant's conduct, and the likelihood that a court order could redress that injury. In individual civil cases, this is relatively straightforward. In climate cases, each of these three elements becomes contested. The injuries from climate change are real but diffuse. The causal link between a specific executive order and a specific climate event is scientifically probabilistic rather than individually determinable. And the question of whether a court injunction could actually fix the problem runs straight into separation of powers concerns.

The Ninth Circuit focused on the speculative nature of the causal chain. The plaintiffs argued that the executive orders would lead to increased fossil fuel production, which would increase greenhouse gas emissions, which would accelerate climate change, which would cause specific harms to them. The court found this chain too attenuated — too many steps, too many intervening variables — to satisfy the standing requirement. This is a legal conclusion, not a scientific one. And that distinction matters enormously.

The precedent from Juliana v. United States

The ghost hovering over Lighthiser is Juliana v. United States, the earlier landmark climate case brought by young Americans that spent years in the federal courts before ultimately being dismissed in 2021. The Ninth Circuit in that case split 2-1, with the majority finding that federal courts lacked the power to order the kind of systemic climate relief the plaintiffs sought. The dissenting judge called it a "failure of imagination" on the court's part. Lighthiser essentially confirms that Juliana's reasoning still holds: federal courts, as currently configured, will not become climate policy bodies.

This does not make the decision wrong as a matter of constitutional law — judges are constrained by doctrine, not just by their preferences. But it does make it devastating as a matter of climate justice. The legal system's internal logic leads to a conclusion that is, in practical terms, indistinguishable from indifference to the future.

The DOJ response and the 19 Republican states

A government celebrating the defeat of its own young citizens

The Department of Justice, representing the Trump administration, celebrated the ruling. Spokespersons framed it as a victory for executive authority and the proper functioning of the separation of powers. Nineteen Republican-led states had filed briefs supporting the Trump administration's position — arguing that the executive orders were a legitimate exercise of presidential authority over energy policy and that federal courts had no business second-guessing those decisions.

The logic of this position is not legally indefensible. Energy policy is, in significant ways, an executive function. Presidents have broad authority to direct federal agencies in how they manage public lands and energy production. The question is not whether Trump had the authority to sign those executive orders. He did. The question is whether that authority is immune from constitutional challenge when its exercise predictably harms identifiable Americans. The Ninth Circuit said yes, essentially — and 19 state governments cheered.

What it means when governments celebrate the defeat of their youth

There is something worth noting about the optics of this celebration. The Trump administration and its allied states were celebrating the defeat of a lawsuit brought by 22 young Americans who argued that government policy was harming their future. This is not a case about corporate regulation or foreign policy. It is a case about whether young citizens can ask a court to protect them from the long-term consequences of deliberate government choices. And the government's response to losing that challenge in their favor was to celebrate.

This celebration sends a signal that extends beyond the legal outcome. It tells young Americans that when they try to use the courts to protect their future, the government will fight them — and win. It tells the world that the United States government, at the highest levels, views climate litigation by young people as a threat to be defeated rather than a legitimate constitutional question to be answered. That message has consequences far beyond the Ninth Circuit.

Our Children's Trust and the long game of climate litigation

The organization that refuses to give up

Our Children's Trust has been pursuing climate litigation on behalf of young Americans for over a decade. It has won in state courts — Held v. Montana in 2023 being the most significant victory — and lost in federal courts, repeatedly. The organization's approach is explicitly long-term: build a body of case law, state by state, that establishes constitutional rights to a stable climate, while continuing to push at the federal level in hopes that the legal landscape will eventually shift.

After the June 2, 2026 ruling, the organization announced it was evaluating its options. The ruling was issued as unpublished — which in federal appellate practice means the Ninth Circuit itself did not want the reasoning to become binding precedent for future cases. That detail is significant: even the court that rejected the case seems to have been uncomfortable making its reasoning into general legal doctrine. A petition for certiorari to the Supreme Court is theoretically possible, but the current conservative majority makes success there extremely unlikely on a topic this politically charged.

The Wisconsin campaign and the multi-state strategy

In June 2026, Our Children's Trust announced a new campaign to fund a case on behalf of 15 young plaintiffs in Wisconsin. This is the multi-state strategy in action: find states with explicit constitutional environmental protections, build cases tailored to those protections, and accumulate victories at the state level until the weight of state precedent — or a shift in federal judicial composition — makes a federal case viable. It is a slow strategy. It is the strategy that the available legal landscape makes necessary.

The parallel between the civil rights movement and climate litigation is imperfect but instructive. Brown v. Board of Education in 1954 was the culmination of a decades-long NAACP litigation strategy that built case by case, state by state. The movement behind it knew that a single federal case would not be enough — that sustained legal pressure over time was the only way to change entrenched legal doctrine. Our Children's Trust is playing the same long game. The difference is that the clock is ticking for the planet in a way it was not for racial segregation.

Held v. Montana: the contrast that sharpens the defeat

Why Montana succeeded where the federal courts failed

The 2023 victory in Held v. Montana remains the benchmark for what climate justice can accomplish in the American judicial system — under the right conditions. Montana's Constitution contains Article IX, which explicitly guarantees the right to a clean and healthful environment. This explicit constitutional provision gave the state's judges a clear textual foundation for action. Judge Kathy Seeley ruled that a Montana law prohibiting regulators from considering climate impacts violated this explicitly protected constitutional right.

The success at the state level and the failure at the federal level in Lighthiser illustrate a crucial strategic lesson: climate litigation has far better prospects in states with explicit constitutional environmental protections than before federal courts that lack comparable textual grounding. The U.S. Constitution contains no explicit right to a clean environment. Without that textual basis, federal judges — even those sympathetic to the plaintiffs' arguments — lack the foundation to act in the way Held allowed.

The ten plaintiffs who lived both cases

The fact that 10 of the 22 Lighthiser plaintiffs had also participated in Held v. Montana creates a striking human continuity in this climate litigation saga. These young people had tasted victory in their state. They knew that courts could act. They wanted to show that the same logic could apply at the federal level against a president systematically dismantling federal climate protections. They were stopped not because their evidence was insufficient — the court acknowledged the evidence — but because the federal legal framework does not allow courts to supervise national energy policy in the way they requested.

This distinction between the validity of their evidence and the inadequacy of the legal framework is perhaps the most important message from Lighthiser v. Trump. The scientific facts are there. The damages are real. But the law, as currently structured in the United States, cannot address those damages in the way the plaintiffs asked. This is not a scientific defeat. It is a procedural one. And procedures can be changed — by Congress, by constitutional amendments, or by the evolution of jurisprudence.

The strategy options left open: states, Congress, and the street

Where the legal path leads after the federal door closes

After Lighthiser, the viable legal paths for climate accountability in the United States run primarily through state courts. States with explicit constitutional environmental protections — Montana, Hawaii, Pennsylvania, and others — remain fertile ground for climate litigation. State legislatures can also enact climate statutes that create new rights of action beyond what the federal constitutional framework allows. These paths are slower and more fragmented than a single federal ruling would be. But they are open.

A constitutional amendment recognizing an explicit federal right to a clean and healthy environment would transform the landscape for federal climate litigation. It is not imminent — constitutional amendments require extraordinary political consensus. But it is not impossible. States that have adopted such provisions did so through political processes that began with advocacy, litigation, and sustained public pressure. The federal version of that process may already be in motion, though its timeline is impossible to predict.

What 22 young people can do that courts cannot

The most powerful thing the 22 Lighthiser plaintiffs may accomplish is not a court order — which they did not obtain — but a cultural and political shift. Climate litigation, when conducted publicly, creates a record. It forces governments to defend their choices in open court. It generates media coverage that reaches audiences who would never read an IPCC report. It puts faces on the abstract statistics of climate science. Eva Lighthiser standing in a courtroom in Portland is a more effective communication of climate urgency than any data visualization.

This is not a consolation prize. In the history of American social movements, the most durable changes began with the kind of moral clarity that litigation creates. The legal defeats of the early civil rights era did not end the movement — they fueled it. The legal defeats in climate courts may serve the same function, if the movement maintains the will to keep fighting. The 22 plaintiffs have demonstrated that will. It is now the political system's turn to respond.

Held v. Montana — the contrast that sharpens the lesson

Why the state succeeded where the federal court could not

It bears repeating, from a different angle, what Held v. Montana accomplished and why Lighthiser could not replicate it at the federal level. The Montana Constitution's Article IX is not a vague promise of good governance. It is a specific, enforceable right. When the Montana legislature passed a law telling regulators to ignore climate impacts, that law ran directly into a written constitutional guarantee. Judge Seeley did not need to invent new doctrine. She applied existing text. Federal courts do not have that luxury.

This means that the most productive strategy for climate advocates is not to push harder on the federal constitutional door — it is to work on the text itself. Constitutional amendments at the state level have succeeded. The process is slower than litigation, but the results are more durable. And each state-level constitutional protection creates a new jurisdiction where the Lighthiser model can succeed, even as it fails at the federal level.

The international dimension: what this ruling signals to the world

The Lighthiser decision is not only an American judicial event. It is a signal sent to the entire planet about the capacity — or incapacity — of the American legal system to respond to the climate crisis. The United States is the world's second-largest greenhouse gas emitter and the largest historical emitter. Its climate policies have global consequences. When its courts refuse to review executive orders that maximize fossil fuel production, that has implications far beyond American borders.

In the geopolitical context of 2026, where the West is working to maintain its credibility as a defender of universal values against Putin's Russia and an expansionist China, the judicial abandonment of American climate policy sends a contradictory signal. China — which invests massively in renewable energy while maintaining high coal production — can easily point to American contradictions as proof that the West cannot claim moral authority on global environmental stewardship.

The international and European dimension

Europe's frustration as the United States reverses course

America's European partners, who have maintained and strengthened their own climate policies despite economic pressures, are watching the American trajectory under Trump with growing frustration. The European Union has implemented carbon border adjustment mechanisms precisely to avoid being disadvantaged by competitors operating without carbon pricing. When the United States abandons its climate commitments through executive orders upheld by courts, it creates trade tensions with its closest allies and weakens the multilateral coalitions needed to address climate change at the scale it demands.

For future generations who will inherit the consequences of these decisions — including the 22 young plaintiffs in Lighthiser v. Trump — the international dimension of this case is not abstract. It is the difference between a world at +1.5°C and a world at +2.5°C, between manageable and catastrophic extreme weather events, between coastlines preserved and coastlines lost. The executive orders challenged in Lighthiser are not foreign policy in a vacuum. They exist in a global context where every additional ton of CO2 matters.

The Urgenda precedent and what the U.S. is not doing

The most significant international precedent in climate litigation remains Urgenda v. Netherlands, which between 2015 and 2019 forced the Dutch government to reduce its emissions through a court order. That success was achieved in a different legal system, with different constitutional rights, and a different judicial tradition. American climate litigants had hoped to find a comparable path. Lighthiser confirms that this path does not currently exist at the federal level in the United States.

The gap between what Urgenda achieved in the Netherlands and what Lighthiser failed to achieve in the United States is not a gap in scientific evidence or legal creativity. It is a gap in the constitutional and doctrinal foundation that courts in different countries operate from. Changing that foundation in the United States is a generational project. Eva Lighthiser and her co-plaintiffs may be the generation that begins it.

Trump as necessary evil — and the limits of that equation on climate

Where the necessary evil doctrine reaches its moral limit

My editorial doctrine on Trump is that of the necessary evil — a president with often destructive policies, but whose reelection reflects political forces that the West must engage rather than dismiss. On foreign policy, on Ukraine, on certain aspects of economic policy, this equation can function. But on climate, I struggle to find the necessity in the evil. When the executive orders challenged in Lighthiser accelerate harms whose primary victims are the young Americans least responsible for those energy choices, the concept of "necessary evil" reaches its moral limit.

Some policies can be bad and necessary. And some are simply bad. Trump's climate executive orders belong to the second category. They are not a painful but unavoidable trade-off. They are a deliberate choice to maximize short-term fossil fuel production at the expense of long-term climate stability — a choice that produces political benefits for some constituencies and distributes its costs onto the young, the poor, and the global south. That is not necessity. That is a value system.

What the administration's celebration reveals

The Trump administration's celebration of the Lighthiser ruling is revealing. It is not the restrained satisfaction of a government that prevailed on a close legal question. It is an enthusiastic embrace of the result — a government pleased to have defeated 22 young Americans in court. This enthusiasm says something about priorities: the administration does not see this case as an unfortunate conflict between legal doctrine and human concern. It sees it as a win in a culture war. And that framing — climate litigation as a culture war battleground — is perhaps the most dangerous thing the ruling has confirmed.

When climate accountability becomes a partisan battlefield rather than a constitutional question, the institutions designed to provide non-partisan resolution — the courts — lose their capacity to play that role. The administration's celebration accelerates this polarization. It signals to conservative-leaning states and constituencies that opposing climate litigation is a statement of political identity. And it makes it harder for future courts to treat these cases as the serious constitutional questions they are.

The legal insufficiency of the American system facing the climate emergency

A framework designed for different problems

The Lighthiser v. Trump case forces a difficult but necessary conclusion: the American judicial system, as currently structured, is not designed to address the climate emergency. The standing requirements — concrete injuries, precise causal links, redressable harms — were designed for disputes between individual parties in specific situations. They adapt poorly to diffuse, progressive, global, and often irreversible harms like those from climate change.

This limitation is not unique to the United States. Courts in many countries have faced similar climate claims, with varying results. The most significant successes — like Urgenda v. Netherlands — were achieved in legal systems with different constitutional frameworks and different judicial traditions. The hope that American courts would find a similar path collided with the specificities of American constitutional and administrative law. That collision was not inevitable. It was the product of specific choices made in specific historical moments about how to structure rights, remedies, and the separation of powers.

What would need to change for the law to become an effective climate tool

For the American judicial system to become capable of addressing the climate emergency, several structural changes would be needed. A constitutional amendment explicitly recognizing the right to a healthy environment — like Montana's Article IX — would give federal courts the textual foundation to act. An evolution in standing doctrine — perhaps initiated by a courageous future Supreme Court decision — would allow plaintiffs to clear the first procedural hurdle. And congressional action creating explicit climate rights of action would give courts the statutory tools to engage.

None of these changes is imminent in 2026. But none of them is historically impossible either. America has reformed its institutions in response to moral crises before. The climate crisis is the defining moral crisis of this century. The question is whether institutions will respond in time — before the consequences of today's decisions become irreversible for the generations already living those consequences.

The next steps: Eva Lighthiser and a generation that will not quit

What comes after the federal door closes

In the hours after the Ninth Circuit's ruling on June 2, 2026, Eva Lighthiser spoke publicly. She did not say she was giving up. She said her lawyers were evaluating their options. At 19 years old, after navigating a long judicial process since the complaint was filed in May 2025, after a district court hearing in September 2025 where a judge said he was "troubled" by the evidence but dismissed the case anyway, after oral arguments before the Ninth Circuit in April 2026 — after all of that, she continues. That continuity is worth more than any single court ruling.

The most durable institutional changes in American history have been carried by people who refused to accept the system's first no — and often not the second or third either. Eva Lighthiser and the generation she represents do not appear ready to accept this particular no. And that is good news for the planet. Not because they will necessarily win in court. But because their persistence is the kind of sustained moral pressure that eventually forces legal and political systems to evolve.

The invitation to hope in a dark moment

It would be easy to end this column in resignation. The Ninth Circuit said no. The Trump administration celebrated. The orders continue to apply. Emissions continue. The planet continues to warm. All of this is true. But it is not the complete story. The complete story also includes 22 young people who chose to fight. A global legal movement that keeps finding new paths. States adopting their own protections. And an entire generation growing up with a climate consciousness that previous generations did not have. These realities coexist with the judicial defeat. And it is in that coexistence — of dark and luminous — that realistic hope for the planet's climate future lives.

What Lighthiser v. Trump says about Trump's America in 2026

An administration maximizing fossil fuels in a burning world

The Trump administration welcomed the Lighthiser ruling as a victory of principle. But what exactly is this victory? It confirms that the president can sign executive orders to maximize fossil fuel production, obstruct renewable energy, and eliminate climate programs — without courts being able to intervene. In a world where 2025 was the hottest year in the instrumental record, where extreme weather events are intensifying, where the economic costs of climate change are rising — this is a victory whose consequences far exceed its immediate political benefits.

Trump's America in 2026 is an America that has made the deliberate choice to maximize its fossil fuel production in the most critical decade for the planet's climate future. That choice is upheld by courts, supported by Republican-led states, and legitimized by the legal system. It is also contested by 22 young people who had the courage to say publicly: this is not our choice, and you do not speak for us.

The generation that will inherit what this decade decides

The 22 plaintiffs in Lighthiser v. Trump will live with the consequences of the policies they challenged for the next 60 or 70 years. The judges who ruled against them will not. The politicians who signed those executive orders may not. This asymmetry of time — decisions made by one generation, consequences borne by another — is perhaps the deepest injustice embedded in the climate crisis. It is also what makes climate litigation so unusual as a legal project: it is one of the rare domains where the people most harmed by a decision have almost no power over the people making it.

This is why the Lighthiser case matters beyond its legal outcome. It is a concrete demonstration of that asymmetry. And it is a reminder that when institutions fail to bridge that asymmetry, the people who bear the future's cost will find other ways to demand accountability. The 22 young plaintiffs will not be the last generation to try.

Conclusion: The court said no — history has not yet delivered its verdict

A moment in a long struggle

The Lighthiser v. Trump ruling of June 2, 2026 does not close the question of climate justice in the United States. It marks a painful moment — a closed door, a specific judicial path blocked, a generation turned away in its legitimate demands. But the greatest justice battles in American history were never won in a single court ruling. They were won through the accumulation of decisions, laws, mobilizations, and cultural shifts that eventually forced institutions to evolve.

Climate justice will follow this path. This is not a question of if. It is a question of when — and of how much irreversible damage will have accumulated between now and that when. Eva Lighthiser and her co-plaintiffs want that when to come as soon as possible. They are right. And even in their judicial defeat, they are contributing to shortening that delay by maintaining public, legal, and moral pressure on institutions that prefer inaction.

What history will write of this moment

In 30 years, when historians of the climate crisis look back at the 2020–2030 decade, they will note that young Americans tried to force their courts to act against destructive climate policies — and that the courts refused on procedural grounds. They will also note that these young people continued. That the movement did not relent. That other paths were explored. History — if it is written in a world that managed to avoid the worst climate scenarios — will be grateful to these 22 young people for maintaining pressure when institutions were not yet ready to respond. And if history is written in a world that did not succeed — their fight will remain one of the most moving testimonies of what individuals tried to do.

Conclusion: The 9th Circuit said no — the future is still waiting

An unpublished ruling, an unresolved question

The fact that the Ninth Circuit issued its Lighthiser ruling as unpublished is itself a statement. A court that declines to make its reasoning binding precedent is a court that recognizes its reasoning may not be right for all circumstances, or all times. The ruling closes this particular case. It does not close the constitutional question the case raised: does the federal government have a duty to protect the climate conditions necessary for the survival and wellbeing of its young citizens? That question will return. In different courts, with different plaintiffs, under different legal frameworks.

The 22 young plaintiffs in Lighthiser v. Trump asked the hardest possible version of that question, at the hardest possible political moment, in the most adversarial possible legal environment. They deserved a more substantive answer than the procedural silence they received. But the question they asked will outlast the court that refused to answer it. And the generation asking it will not stop until the answer changes.

The last word belongs to the planet

Trump 1, the future 0 — that was the score after June 2, 2026. But the game is not over. The planet does not operate on electoral cycles or judicial calendars. Its systems respond to cumulative emissions, to decisions made across decades, to choices that seem abstract until they become catastrophic. The Ninth Circuit ruled on standing doctrine. The planet will rule on something more fundamental: whether the generation now making decisions chose wisely enough to preserve livable conditions for the generation that had no say in those decisions. That verdict is still pending. And it will not be issued in Portland.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Columnist's transparency note

My position on climate justice and the limits of my analysis

I believe that climate change is the most important existential crisis of our generation and that the young people fighting for climate justice deserve to be heard and supported. This conviction shapes this column. I do not have specialized legal training in American constitutional law or environmental law. My analysis of the legal grounds for the ruling is based on available sources and may involve simplifications. On complex legal questions, I rely on the experts cited in my sources.

Sources and journalistic method

This column is based on articles from Inside Climate News of June 3, 2026, Montana Free Press of June 2, 2026, E&E News of June 2, 2026, Public Justice of June 2, 2026, FollowNews of June 8, 2026, communications from Our Children's Trust, and publicly available documents. All quotes are drawn directly from sources. Contested facts are identified as such.

Sources

Primary sources

Inside Climate News — Appeals court confirms dismissal of Lighthiser v. Trump — June 3, 2026

Montana Free Press — Ninth Circuit denies young Americans' lawsuit challenging Trump's climate handling — June 2, 2026

E&E News — Appeals court rejects youth-led challenge to Trump energy orders — June 2, 2026

Secondary sources

FollowNews — Federal appeals court rejects youth climate lawsuit against Trump orders — June 8, 2026

Public Justice — Ninth Circuit dismisses constitutional climate case on Trump fossil fuel orders — June 2, 2026

Our Children's Trust — Lighthiser v. Trump: timeline and documents — 2025–2026