Alaskans know what it means to deal with too much federal control. Whether it is land access, failed fisheries policy, or road construction, we have experienced the consequences of decisions made by bureaucrats in Washington, D.C., who have never set foot on our tundra. One of the clearest examples of this overreach is the way the federal government handles Clean Water Act permits, specifically what is called Section 404 permitting.

If that term is unfamiliar, you’re not alone. Section 404 refers to a part of the Clean Water Act that requires anyone who wants to discharge materials like gravel or fill into wetlands or other bodies of water to get a federal permit. In Alaska, where we have an estimated 174 million acres of wetlands, this regulation touches nearly every construction, development, or infrastructure project. That includes everything from building a road to developing a mine. The permitting is currently handled by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, with oversight from the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).

Unfortunately, this process is painfully slow, unnecessarily complex, and routinely hijacked by environmental groups who want to stop development altogether. Projects like the Pebble and Donlin mines have been tied up in red tape for years, not because they cannot meet environmental standards, but because activist groups have figured out how to weaponize the federal bureaucracy to delay or kill projects they do not like. This is not how the system was supposed to work, but it is how Alaska ends up with jobs lost, investments withdrawn, and rural communities left behind.

That is where Section 404 “primacy” comes in. Under federal law, states have the right to take over the 404 permitting process if they can show they have the capacity to do the job. And in fact, Alaska can. We are better equipped than the federal government to understand our lands, our people, and our environmental needs. With 404 primacy, Alaska’s Department of Environmental Conservation would manage the permits instead of the Army Corps. This would cut years off project timelines and ensure that local knowledge drives decisions.

This is not about weakening environmental protections. Alaska already has some of the most rigorous environmental standards in the nation. We have proven ourselves in managing complex projects like the Trans-Alaska Pipeline and the Red Dog Mine while maintaining strong fish populations, healthy caribou herds, and clean water. The difference is, we do it with common sense and local expertise.

Critics claim that only the federal government can be trusted to protect wetlands, but that is simply wrong. First, the EPA still retains its veto power under Section 404(c). If a project truly threatens significant environmental harm, the EPA can still step in. Second, the delays and denials we see today are not always about science; they are about procedure, paperwork, emotion, and politics. Pebble Mine, for example, was denied not just because of environmental concerns but because of pressure campaigns from environmental organizations with deep pockets and deep political connections.

In Alaska, we must also address the elephant in the room: tribal involvement. Alaska Native communities rely on wetlands for hunting, fishing, and subsistence. These lands are not just part of the economy; they are part of our culture. Any move toward 404 primacy must include meaningful tribal participation—not just consultation, but real involvement in decision-making. This could mean seats at the table in permitting decisions, co-management structures, or formal roles in monitoring and enforcement. Alaska has the chance to lead the nation in how we integrate tribal knowledge into environmental governance, and we must seize it.

Thanks to recent changes from EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin, the pathway to state control has become clearer and more achievable. His reforms in 2025 aligned the definition of “Waters of the United States” (WOTUS) with the U.S. Supreme Court’s Sackett v. EPA decision. That decision limited federal jurisdiction to wetlands that have a clear, continuous surface connection to a river, lake, or other navigable water. This tighter definition means fewer permits fall under federal control and reduces the workload for any state taking over permitting. It also means Alaska’s cost to run the program could be reduced from around $4.9 million per year to something closer to $3 or $4 million.

There is no question that Alaska is capable. We already manage other complex environmental responsibilities. Our boots-on-the-ground staff understand the difference between a frozen bog on the Slope and a salmon stream in the Mat-Su. We can make decisions faster, with more local insight, and still meet every environmental protection standard the law requires. Plus, by charging reasonable user fees for permit applications, the program could pay for itself.

Some people will still push the argument that federal oversight is needed to protect Alaska’s waters. But this ignores the reality that state regulators live here and work here. Their kids go to the same schools, they fish the same rivers, and they have every incentive to protect the land and water we all depend on. We are not talking about choosing between development and the environment. We are talking about choosing a better way to do both.

Section 404 primacy is not a radical idea. It is a return to common sense. It is Alaska saying, “We can do this better.” With proper tribal engagement, strong safeguards, and a streamlined process, we can permit projects in a way that supports jobs, protects the environment, and respects Alaska Native culture. It is time we stop begging for permission to develop our own land. It is time to start trusting ourselves to lead.

Alaska is ready. Washington is not. That is why 404 primacy matters. And that is why I support it.

Originally published on Substack: https://kevinjmccabe.substack.com/p/404-primacy