For decades, fossil fuel companies have operated with near impunity, despite mounting evidence that their products drive climate change—and that their executives knew it. Now, a little-known Pennsylvania criminal statute might change that.
Tucked into the state’s crimes code is a felony statute that prohibits causing or recklessly risking a catastrophe. But according to legal scholars, including Professor Rachel Rothschild of the University of Michigan Law School, this statute could be used to hold oil, gas, and coal companies criminally liable for knowingly fueling the climate crisis.
This legal theory has sparked more than just headlines—it’s ignited a backlash. A conservative group is now suing the University of Michigan to gain access to Professor Rothschild’s emails, accusing her of improper coordination with lawmakers and advocacy groups.
At the same time, fossil fuel companies face new lawsuits under state laws they never expected to encounter in court, and advocates say these efforts could fill the void left by years of inaction in Washington. And under the Trump administration, federal support for climate change research and accountability has all but vanished—crippling oversight and forcing states and local governments to pick up the slack.
How Pennsylvania’s Catastrophe Statute Could Become a Climate Prosecution Tool
Traditionally applied in cases involving industrial explosions, train derailments, or public health emergencies, this law is now being reexamined for a very different kind of disaster—climate catastrophe. The statute has been a staple in Pennsylvania criminal prosecutions where human action leads to large-scale harm. It’s not obscure, nor is it unused. The statute has been used in cases involving chemical spills, arson, and structural collapses.
While environmental litigation has traditionally focused on regulatory violations and civil liability, criminal charges remain rare, and largely reserved for acute, localized incidents. What makes this approach so significant is its attempt to reframe climate change itself as a criminally reckless act when enabled by corporate behavior.
This argument is laid out in detail in a recent article published by the NYU Environmental Law Journal. It applies long-standing criminal principles to emerging climate realities, arguing that existing legal tools are already capable of addressing systemic environmental harm if prosecutors are willing to test them. The core idea is simple: fossil fuel companies didn’t just contribute to climate change—they did so knowingly and recklessly, meeting the statutory threshold for criminal liability in Pennsylvania.
The key legal concept here is recklessness. Unlike intentional crimes, reckless conduct doesn’t require that a defendant meant to cause a particular harm—only that they knew of a substantial and unjustifiable risk and disregarded it. For years, oil, gas, and coal companies have had access to internal research, independent studies, and government reports showing how burning fossil fuels contributes to rising temperatures, sea level rise, and extreme weather. Yet many of these same companies actively lobbied against climate regulation, funded disinformation campaigns, and expanded production. According to the journal article, that history could satisfy the recklessness standard under Pennsylvania law.
Prosecutors could argue that internal industry documents warning of long-term climate risk—ignored in favor of expanded drilling and lobbying—demonstrate a clear pattern of knowing disregard. The question shifts from whether the companies understood the harm to whether they willfully dismissed it in pursuit of profit.
This distinction matters. A civil lawsuit seeks damages. A criminal prosecution seeks punishment. The potential use of Pennsylvania’s statute transforms the legal conversation from compensation to culpability.
Of course, bringing such a case would not be easy. Establishing causation between a company’s conduct and a specific climate-related event in Pennsylvania would require expert testimony, detailed emissions data, and a judge willing to allow a theory that’s never been tested in this way. That hurdle alone could stall prosecution efforts, especially in politically conservative jurisdictions.
The Backlash Begins
Rachel Rothschild, a University of Michigan law professor, has helped design state-level legislation aimed at making fossil fuel companies financially liable for climate damage. She played a key role in developing New York’s and Vermont’s climate superfund laws, which force polluters to pay into state-managed funds to cover the cost of environmental harm caused by their products. That work has made her a target.
A conservative group known as Government Accountability & Oversight (GAO) is now suing the University of Michigan for access to Rothschild’s emails and pushing to depose her. GAO’s legal filing frames Rothschild’s academic work as part of a broader conspiracy to coordinate legal action against fossil fuel companies.
The goal isn’t just to harass a law professor. It’s to discredit the entire legal framework that climate accountability advocates are building. By dragging Rothschild into court, GAO hopes to cast doubt on the legitimacy of these legal strategies, discourage academic involvement in policy development, and chill future work from other scholars who might contribute to similar efforts. It's a page straight from the industry playbook: when you can't defeat the argument, attack the person making it.
This tactic is familiar to anyone who’s followed climate politics over the last decade. But it’s important to recognize that the legal harassment of Rothschild doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s part of a broader, sustained effort to dismantle the institutional infrastructure needed to confront climate change—and that effort has accelerated under the Trump administration.
The Trump White House has systematically gutted federal climate programs, including defunding the U.S. Global Change Research Program. These aren’t budgetary accidents—they are deliberate acts meant to strip away the scientific and legal scaffolding required to build public accountability.
The goal isn’t just to eliminate support for climate adaptation—it’s to weaken the institutional frameworks that make climate litigation possible. When the government defunds the science that underpins climate models or axes grants that help track emissions, it’s not just cutting budgets—it’s cutting the legs out from under future prosecutions and lawsuits.
That context matters when looking at Rothschild’s case. Legal thinkers like her are filling a void left by federal abdication. They’re not fringe actors; they’re helping states develop viable legal frameworks for corporate accountability. And now, those frameworks are being politically and legally targeted—through FOIA lawsuits, public record demands, and fishing expeditions masquerading as transparency.
This is a moment of real consequence for the legal profession. The backlash against climate accountability is no longer abstract. It’s personal, and it’s professional. It doesn’t just aim to chill academic debate—it aims to disarm the very people developing the legal tools we may all need in the years ahead.
If universities and public interest law shops become battlegrounds, the entire legal community loses something foundational: the freedom to test theories, build frameworks, and pursue justice without fear of political retaliation. Lawyers who care about accountability—whether environmental, financial, or institutional—should see this clearly for what it is: an effort to undermine the architecture of legal innovation before it ever gets to court.
For practicing attorneys—especially those in environmental law, state prosecution, or policy litigation—this moment invites a strategic shift. Understanding how existing criminal statutes can be leveraged for climate harm opens up an entirely new branch of liability.
It also suggests that attorneys working in academia or public policy roles should prepare for increased scrutiny. The use of public records laws to extract internal documents from researchers and government consultants isn’t just a political tactic—it could become a legal strategy that shapes how future cases are built or undermined.
A New Front in Climate Law
The Pennsylvania statute isn’t some obscure loophole dug out of the archives. It’s black-letter law—and it’s now being viewed through a new lens by legal scholars, prosecutors, and environmental advocates. The idea of holding fossil fuel companies criminally accountable for climate damage isn’t just plausible. It’s actively being mapped out.
The lawsuit targeting Rothschild makes one thing painfully clear: the fossil fuel industry and its allies are paying attention. Her legal research and policy work have helped shape how states pursue accountability. That’s exactly why she’s being targeted—not for what she’s done wrong, but for what she’s done effectively.
Legal accountability for climate change is no longer a theory waiting for its day in court. It’s happening. It’s evolving. And the lawyers pushing it forward are already facing political and legal blowback.
Whether Pennsylvania prosecutors ever file charges under the causing catastrophe statute is still an open question. But the statute’s existence—and the serious legal minds now considering how to use it—has already shifted the landscape. It may well be the foundation on which a new era of climate accountability is built.
