The highway rule few Coloradans know is steering road projects

By Scott James | Commentary, Scott K. James

Colorado’s GHG rule quietly reshaped every major highway decision, forcing climate math over real-world mobility. Part 2 exposes how it happened

Yesterday, in Part 1, we traced how Colorado got quietly rewired:

• from voters rejecting Prop 112…
• to SB19-181 passing anyway…
• to statewide GHG targets…
• to “roadmaps” that turned climate goals into marching orders…
• to SB21-260, welding transportation funding to climate policy.

Today isn’t about another bill.

Today is about one rule – written in the middle of COVID, on glitchy Zoom calls and muted microphones – that quietly changed how every major transportation decision in Colorado gets made:

The Greenhouse Gas (GHG) Transportation Planning Standard.

On paper, it sounds dry and technical.

In reality, it is the choke collar on our road system.

And I know that not because I read it in a white paper – but because I spent months of my life fighting it.

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1. A Rule Born in a Pandemic – and Written Over a Mute Button

Remember where we were when this thing was being cooked up:

• COVID had emptied out the Capitol and meeting rooms.
• Everything moved to online “stakeholder” meetings.
• SB21-260 had just passed, telling CDOT and the Transportation Commission to “align transportation planning with state climate goals.”

So, while normal people were trying to keep their jobs, kids, and businesses afloat, CDOT and the TC were quietly assembling a rule that would:

• Force every long-range transportation plan to model GHG emissions,
• Require agencies to hit specific reduction targets, and
• Push them toward transit and “mode shift” projects instead of road capacity.

And they did it all under the friendly, focus-grouped label of a:

“Robust stakeholder process.”

Let me tell you what that looked like from my side of the screen.

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2. What the Rule Actually Does – in Plain English

Before I get to the politics, here’s the core of the GHG rule, without the bureaucratic frosting:

• CDOT and the big metro planning organizations (MPOs) have to create long-range transportation plans.
• Under the new rule, they must run those plans through a computer model that estimates the GHG emissions.
• The rule sets emissions reduction targets for different years (2030, 2040, 2050). If a plan doesn’t “comply,” they have to:
  • Change the plan to add more transit, infill, bike/ped, or other “mode shift” projects (think LOTS of added expense), or
  • Create a mitigation action plan explaining what they’ll do to make the numbers work (think some added expense), or
  • Risk having certain funding streams restricted or delayed (think getting no money at all).

In practice, this means:

• Highway expansion now comes with a climate penalty.
• Transit and density projects come with a climate bonus.

So if you’re an MPO or CDOT planner sitting at a desk and you have two options:

• Add lanes to I-25 (which they claim (a concept called “induced demand” which I simply reject on its premise) increases vehicle miles traveled and emissions, or
• Fund a bus rapid transit line, a bike corridor, and some “infill” planning,

The rule nudges you hard toward the second. Not because of safety, congestion, or economic impact – but because the math on the spreadsheet looks cleaner and steers funds toward what the Gov and his enviro buddies want you to do – get out of cars, alter your lifestyle, and ride their money-losing transit.

That’s the design.

That’s not conspiracy; that’s how they sell the rule themselves.

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3. The “Stakeholder Process” Where the Outcome Was Already Written

Now, let’s talk about those infamous stakeholder meetings.

On the surface, it looked great:

• Dozens of online sessions.
• Local officials, business leaders, freight, agriculture, counties, cities, MPOs – all invited.
• We all got our three minutes to tell them how this was wrong (of course, the enviro-activists like Elise Jones flooded the robust stakeholder meetings with their performative troupe of micro-activists and said they loved the idea).
• The phrase “we value your input” was used so often it could’ve been on a drinking game card.

I showed up.
Over and over.
They ignored me.

As a Weld County Commissioner.
As chair of the North I-25 coalition.

As someone representing people who live on these highways, not just model them.

We argued:

• That I-25 is already dangerously congested.
• That our region is growing fast and actually needs more capacity, not less.
• That you cannot simply “mode-shift” your way out of freight and long-distance commutes in a state like Colorado.
• That tying every project to climate modeling turns vital safety and mobility projects into political footballs and adds unnecessary expense.

And what did it feel like on the other side of the screen?

Like talking to people who were half-listening while they doom-scrolled the socials.

The junior staffers were there, cameras off, dutifully logging comments so someone could later claim a “robust stakeholder process.”

But you could tell – in the pacing, the tone, the canned responses – that the destination was already locked in:

• The Governor’s Roadmap had already said transportation must be a climate tool.
• SB21-260 had already told CDOT to write a rule that reduces GHG.
• Environmental advocacy groups were already lined up in favor and ready to flood the comment record with support.

We weren’t writing policy together.

We were play-acting participation while a pre-written outcome marched toward adoption.

That’s what Polis perfected:
Process as performance.

READ THE FULL COMMENTARY AT SCOTTKJAMES.COM

Scott K. James is a second-term Weld County Commissioner and former Mayor of Johnstown, Colorado. A fourth-generation Colorado native and 40-year radio veteran, he’s been recognized by both the Colorado Broadcasters’ Association and Colorado Counties, Inc. for his public service and communication leadership. James is a strong advocate for individual liberty, limited government, and rural communities. He lives in Johnstown with his wife, Julie, and their son, Jack.

Editor’s note: Opinions expressed in commentary pieces are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the management of the Rocky Mountain Voice, but even so we support the constitutional right of the author to express those opinions.