Trump’s ‘Climate Realists’ Shatter Alarmist Orthodoxy in Washington Shake-Up

Paul Riverbank, 12/13/2025Climate debate shifts: less alarm, more realism—nuanced perspectives emerge, challenging previous orthodoxy in Washington.

I'm reminded of a recent hallway conversation at a Washington energy conference. “It’s about time we had a reality check,” a utility executive told me, speaking off the record. What he meant was that there’s a rising sense among both policymakers and scientists that a dose of pragmatism has been missing from our public climate conversation.

The most visible pivot came when former President Donald Trump’s administration—backed, some would argue, by so-called “climate realists”—stepped away from all-out alarmism. Critics quickly labeled them “deniers,” although that paints with the broadest of brushes. Most of these voices, if you listen closely, accept that the planet’s climate is in flux. Their hesitation is in declaring every shift a five-alarm fire.

Support for this measured tack wasn’t universal, certainly not in newsrooms or on social media. Line up a row of climate scientists, and you’ll still find those angry that any alternative view gets air. In recent memory, some researchers even compared less-alarmist colleagues to Holocaust deniers—a charge so severe it seemed designed to end professional reputations. The result? Many well-credentialed experts felt they had to choose between private skepticism and public silence.

Curiously, the winds are now shifting. Bill Gates, once front and center in stirring urgent action, has dialed it down. “Will climate change upend life on Earth? There will be serious consequences, no doubt. But humanity won’t be wiped out,” he writes today, as if anticipating the need to walk back from apocalyptic edge. Gates imagines most people, in most places, coping—something that two years ago would have caused outcry.

Even the United Nations, typically firm in its dire messaging, is adopting a more reserved stance. Last year, Secretary-General Guterres spoke about a “ticking clock;” this year, the language centers on “clean energy” and, frankly, an admission that hard temperature goals may be missed. Words matter, especially in international negotiations.

Policy, for what it’s worth, is trailing the rhetoric but not by much. Mark Carney, a mainstay of Canadian net-zero ambitions, recently did an about-face, championing his country’s liquefied natural gas industry and walking back some greenwashing crackdowns. The signals are clear: rigid zeal is making room for calculation.

Yet this is not just about government or pledges—there’s an undercurrent many miss. Research and its funding aren’t immune to careerism or inertia. Academics and philanthropists, department heads and influencers alike, all have stakes tied up in the climate story they help write. Sometimes, defending a specific viewpoint can look an awful lot like protecting an investment—of reputation as much as money.

No wonder people have grown wary. If you listen to conversations outside city halls or research labs—at barbershops, school meetings, or even industry lunches—there’s a note of skepticism about the fervor that gripped so many. Some speak of a “Dark Age” in science, when stepping out of line got you tarred and feathered, figuratively if not literally.

What emerges now is less a victory for one camp or another than the tentative beginnings of a more diverse conversation. Political scientist Bjorn Lomborg has argued for years that the “truth” about climate risk is nuanced—and notes that we’re finally seeing room for that nuance. The real risks of climate change aren’t being ignored. But fewer people, it seems, are interested in grandstanding at the expense of facts. There’s a growing appetite for candor, even if it feels more complex or less dramatic.

Markets and technology have their say, too. As one historian pointed out to me at a recent panel, “Clean energy is getting cheaper by the year.” That’s not ideology; it’s economics. And the possibility that technology—rather than regulation alone—will lead the transition is looking less pie-in-the-sky, and more like the path we’re actually following.

If there’s a thread running through all this, it’s that science and democracy both function best with robust, sometimes uncomfortable debate. Reassessing climate risks, and how to address them, isn’t defeatism. It’s an inevitable and necessary part of any honest reckoning.

Maybe, just maybe, calmer rhetoric and sharper scrutiny is exactly what this conversation needed. Not because the planet’s challenges aren’t pressing—they are—but because progress rarely comes from panic. Real resilience comes from willingness to question, adapt, and stay engaged, even as the debate itself evolves.

Most conversations around climate change these days don’t sound quite the way they did a decade ago. The temperature of the debate—if you’ll pardon the pun—seems to be cooling, at least in public discourse. Instead of wall-to-wall warnings about looming catastrophe, a quieter, more cautious narrative is tiptoeing into the spotlight. Perhaps it was bound to happen. Politics, science, and public opinion seldom stay on the same page for long.I'm reminded of a recent hallway conversation at a Washington energy conference. “It’s about time we had a reality check,” a utility executive told me, speaking off the record. What he meant was that there’s a rising sense among both policymakers and scientists that a dose of pragmatism has been missing from our public climate conversation.The most visible pivot came when former President Donald Trump’s administration—backed, some would argue, by so-called “climate realists”—stepped away from all-out alarmism. Critics quickly labeled them “deniers,” although that paints with the broadest of brushes. Most of these voices, if you listen closely, accept that the planet’s climate is in flux. Their hesitation is in declaring every shift a five-alarm fire.Support for this measured tack wasn’t universal, certainly not in newsrooms or on social media. Line up a row of climate scientists, and you’ll still find those angry that any alternative view gets air. In recent memory, some researchers even compared less-alarmist colleagues to Holocaust deniers—a charge so severe it seemed designed to end professional reputations. The result? Many well-credentialed experts felt they had to choose between private skepticism and public silence.Curiously, the winds are now shifting. Bill Gates, once front and center in stirring urgent action, has dialed it down. “Will climate change upend life on Earth? There will be serious consequences, no doubt. But humanity won’t be wiped out,” he writes today, as if anticipating the need to walk back from apocalyptic edge. Gates imagines most people, in most places, coping—something that two years ago would have caused outcry.Even the United Nations, typically firm in its dire messaging, is adopting a more reserved stance. Last year, Secretary-General Guterres spoke about a “ticking clock;” this year, the language centers on “clean energy” and, frankly, an admission that hard temperature goals may be missed. Words matter, especially in international negotiations.Policy, for what it’s worth, is trailing the rhetoric but not by much. Mark Carney, a mainstay of Canadian net-zero ambitions, recently did an about-face, championing his country’s liquefied natural gas industry and walking back some greenwashing crackdowns. The signals are clear: rigid zeal is making room for calculation.Yet this is not just about government or pledges—there’s an undercurrent many miss. Research and its funding aren’t immune to careerism or inertia. Academics and philanthropists, department heads and influencers alike, all have stakes tied up in the climate story they help write. Sometimes, defending a specific viewpoint can look an awful lot like protecting an investment—of reputation as much as money.No wonder people have grown wary. If you listen to conversations outside city halls or research labs—at barbershops, school meetings, or even industry lunches—there’s a note of skepticism about the fervor that gripped so many. Some speak of a “Dark Age” in science, when stepping out of line got you tarred and feathered, figuratively if not literally.What emerges now is less a victory for one camp or another than the tentative beginnings of a more diverse conversation. Political scientist Bjorn Lomborg has argued for years that the “truth” about climate risk is nuanced—and notes that we’re finally seeing room for that nuance. The real risks of climate change aren’t being ignored. But fewer people, it seems, are interested in grandstanding at the expense of facts. There’s a growing appetite for candor, even if it feels more complex or less dramatic.Markets and technology have their say, too. As one historian pointed out to me at a recent panel, “Clean energy is getting cheaper by the year.” That’s not ideology; it’s economics. And the possibility that technology—rather than regulation alone—will lead the transition is looking less pie-in-the-sky, and more like the path we’re actually following.If there’s a thread running through all this, it’s that science and democracy both function best with robust, sometimes uncomfortable debate. Reassessing climate risks, and how to address them, isn’t defeatism. It’s an inevitable and necessary part of any honest reckoning.Maybe, just maybe, calmer rhetoric and sharper scrutiny is exactly what this conversation needed. Not because the planet’s challenges aren’t pressing—they are—but because progress rarely comes from panic. Real resilience comes from willingness to question, adapt, and stay engaged, even as the debate itself evolves.