On September 2 the US Court of Appeals for the DC Circuit ruled that $16 billion in climate grants will remain frozen. The case, Climate United Fund v. Citibank and Environmental Protection Agency, grew out of the Trump administration’s February decision to halt the Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund. The order was only a few lines long, a clerk’s note that the mandate would be withheld until rehearing petitions were resolved. In appellate procedure, withholding the mandate means the decision below is not yet enforceable. The court could have allowed the money to move while review continued. It chose not to.

This is not paperwork. This is power. Power in this case means leaving billions locked in a Citibank vault while families ration air conditioning, patch storm-wrecked homes, and haul water across dry land.

The money is real. Congress appropriated it. Treasury obligated it. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) awarded it. Projects were ready. Tribal governments had contractors lined up to install solar pumps. Rural co-ops had bids in hand to replace cracked water lines. Community lenders had retrofits prepared for families who spend half their paychecks on electricity. Yet the funds remain frozen, generating interest for a bank that once needed a taxpayer bailout and still bankrolls oil expansion.

Judges call this a pause. A pause in Washington is a crisis everywhere else.

Maria Ortega in Phoenix knows it. She is 76, widowed, living on a fixed income in a house that traps the heat. Phoenix endured its fourth hottest summer on record, with 12 days at or above 110°F this July. Maria shut off her air conditioning most afternoons to avoid a $287 bill, half her Social Security check. The thermostat read 98°F. She sipped water slowly, blinds drawn, a box fan pushing hot air. At night she ran the AC for three hours so she could sleep. She asked a question no one should face: Is surviving this month worth going hungry next month?

Daniel Robinson outside New Orleans knows it too. Another September storm peeled shingles from his roof. He was 19 when Katrina came. He rebuilt, married, worked double shifts. He was told resilience would come. But this fall he found himself again hammering blue tarps while his kids carried buckets. Federal funds exist for stronger roofs and elevated homes. They were approved, obligated, ready. But they remain locked in limbo.

And Sarah Begay on the Navajo Nation knows it as well. She drives every other day to a community well, filling barrels for her livestock. The dirt tanks her father used have been dry for years. Gas prices climb, the miles wear down her pickup. She was told federal money was coming for solar pumps. Instead she is told to wait.

Three people, three regions, one reality: Delay is not neutral. It kills.

Maria is not waiting for abstractions. She is waiting for a power bill she can pay.

Judges insist they are........

© Common Dreams