GOP Attorneys General Force Climate Science Purge From Judges’ Handbook!

Paul Riverbank, 2/10/2026GOP pressure removes climate science from judges’ guidebook, raising questions about scientific impartiality.

It all traces back to a letter from West Virginia Attorney General JB McCuskey. After a careful read, McCuskey voiced concerns that the chapter in question leaned too heavily on advocacy, tipping it toward what he and allies considered an activist angle. Not long after, Federal Judge Robin Rosenberg, who chairs the FJC’s Board, replied in crisp, official prose. “In response to your letter,” she wrote, “the Federal Judicial Center has omitted the climate science chapter from the Reference Manual.”

That move landed like a stone thrown into a pond. McCuskey promptly declared victory for “impartiality.” His Nebraska counterpart, Mike Hilgers, called it a “huge win” against what they labeled one-sided science. Advocacy groups, for their part, weren’t quiet either: Tom Fitton of Judicial Watch wrote that the previous version reminded him of a “political pamphlet”—and argued the American public deserved transparency about how certain narratives take root in government documents.

The Reference Manual, while hardly a bestseller, is relied upon by federal judges facing labyrinthine scientific claims—from patent disputes to pollution lawsuits. But by striking climate science from its latest edition, the Center found itself at the heart of a perennial debate: What exactly should shape a judge’s private library of facts when the issues are both scientific and politically charged? After all, court dockets increasingly bear the weight of America’s deep divisions over global warming, greenhouse gases, and the legitimacy of regulatory efforts.

A glance abroad shows this isn’t a uniquely American conundrum. In Australia, Danielle Wood, head of the nation’s Productivity Commission, is contending with her own version of climate gridlock. Speaking with characteristic urgency, Wood recently rebuked “second-best” policies—patchwork subsidies, inconsistent fuel tax breaks, and frequent backtracks on emissions rules. “Australians are paying the price,” Wood argued, not just with their wallets, but through lingering uncertainty that haunts investment and planning alike. Time, she suggested, to stop debating if climate action is needed and focus on the how. Wood sees carbon taxes or robust emissions trading—those market-driven signals policymakers so often debate—as the surest way to guide innovation and discipline spending. In her eyes, the longer governments dither, the greater the eventual toll, both economic and social.

Meanwhile, the U.S. judicial branch finds itself increasingly in the limelight. Under the Trump administration, the pendulum swung hard in the other direction: climate rules were rolled back, and the very foundation of federal greenhouse gas oversight faced challenges. The result? Judges from coast to coast are left to thread a needle—tasked with weighing formidable scientific testimony while sidestepping any appearance of playing political favorites. Each new case, and every edit to an official manual, lays bare just how fraught the intersection of science and law has become.

So for the moment, the climate science chapter is gone—scrubbed from the federal judges’ go-to scientific guidebook. Its absence leaves unresolved questions: When evidence itself can be politicized, whom can judges trust? The debate over climate science, not to mention the policies built on it, seems unlikely to cool down anytime soon. Amid rising seas and swinging political tides, one thing remains certain: the question of how best to inform—and safeguard—impartial justice in an era of sweeping change is nowhere near settled.

In federal courtrooms across the United States, the book of rules and references for judges just got a little lighter—and the timing is no coincidence. This February, the Federal Judicial Center, serving as the judiciary’s research arm, quietly erased its climate science chapter from the stalwart Reference Manual on Scientific Evidence. The decision, reached following pressure from a coalition of Republican attorneys general and a flurry of pointed op-eds, carried a clear message: caution beats controversy when it comes to what guides judges on the bench.It all traces back to a letter from West Virginia Attorney General JB McCuskey. After a careful read, McCuskey voiced concerns that the chapter in question leaned too heavily on advocacy, tipping it toward what he and allies considered an activist angle. Not long after, Federal Judge Robin Rosenberg, who chairs the FJC’s Board, replied in crisp, official prose. “In response to your letter,” she wrote, “the Federal Judicial Center has omitted the climate science chapter from the Reference Manual.”That move landed like a stone thrown into a pond. McCuskey promptly declared victory for “impartiality.” His Nebraska counterpart, Mike Hilgers, called it a “huge win” against what they labeled one-sided science. Advocacy groups, for their part, weren’t quiet either: Tom Fitton of Judicial Watch wrote that the previous version reminded him of a “political pamphlet”—and argued the American public deserved transparency about how certain narratives take root in government documents.The Reference Manual, while hardly a bestseller, is relied upon by federal judges facing labyrinthine scientific claims—from patent disputes to pollution lawsuits. But by striking climate science from its latest edition, the Center found itself at the heart of a perennial debate: What exactly should shape a judge’s private library of facts when the issues are both scientific and politically charged? After all, court dockets increasingly bear the weight of America’s deep divisions over global warming, greenhouse gases, and the legitimacy of regulatory efforts.A glance abroad shows this isn’t a uniquely American conundrum. In Australia, Danielle Wood, head of the nation’s Productivity Commission, is contending with her own version of climate gridlock. Speaking with characteristic urgency, Wood recently rebuked “second-best” policies—patchwork subsidies, inconsistent fuel tax breaks, and frequent backtracks on emissions rules. “Australians are paying the price,” Wood argued, not just with their wallets, but through lingering uncertainty that haunts investment and planning alike. Time, she suggested, to stop debating if climate action is needed and focus on the how. Wood sees carbon taxes or robust emissions trading—those market-driven signals policymakers so often debate—as the surest way to guide innovation and discipline spending. In her eyes, the longer governments dither, the greater the eventual toll, both economic and social.Meanwhile, the U.S. judicial branch finds itself increasingly in the limelight. Under the Trump administration, the pendulum swung hard in the other direction: climate rules were rolled back, and the very foundation of federal greenhouse gas oversight faced challenges. The result? Judges from coast to coast are left to thread a needle—tasked with weighing formidable scientific testimony while sidestepping any appearance of playing political favorites. Each new case, and every edit to an official manual, lays bare just how fraught the intersection of science and law has become.So for the moment, the climate science chapter is gone—scrubbed from the federal judges’ go-to scientific guidebook. Its absence leaves unresolved questions: When evidence itself can be politicized, whom can judges trust? The debate over climate science, not to mention the policies built on it, seems unlikely to cool down anytime soon. Amid rising seas and swinging political tides, one thing remains certain: the question of how best to inform—and safeguard—impartial justice in an era of sweeping change is nowhere near settled.