Greenpeace USA, born out of an Alaska protest, on verge of financial collapse

Greenpeace, an organization born from an Alaska protest more than half a century ago, is now fighting for its very survival in US courts. The group that began in 1971 with a bold voyage toward remote Amchitka Island to oppose nuclear testing is confronting a judgment so large it could force the shutdown of its American operations by early 2026.

Greenpeace’s origins are inseparable from Alaska. In the fall of 1971, a group of activists sailed from Vancouver aboard the Phyllis Cormack with the goal of “bearing witness” to the US government’s planned nuclear test on Amchitka, a seismically dynamic island in the Aleutians.

The crew never reached its destination; it was intercepted before entering the testing zone. But the journey captured global attention, ignited public protests, and helped turn the tide against US nuclear detonations in the North Pacific. By 1972, the United States abandoned the site, and the voyage became the foundation of Greenpeace’s international identity as a non-violent, media-savvy environmental force.

Over the decades, that Alaska legacy continued. Greenpeace challenged military expansion under the early 2000s missile defense program, helping force new environmental reviews at Fort Greely and Kodiak Island.

The group later joined fishing fleets and Indigenous advocates protesting Navy live-fire exercises in the Gulf of Alaska, which it said threatened marine mammals and fisheries.

In Arctic energy battles, Greenpeace fought everything from offshore oil projects in the Beaufort Sea to the massive Willow development in the National Petroleum Reserve-Alaska, filed objections to LNG export approvals, and backed efforts to block coal mines near Native communities. These campaigns solidified Alaska as one of the organization’s defining arenas.

Now, the same organization that once held the global spotlight on Alaska’s environmental risks faces potential collapse.

The crisis began with a state-court lawsuit filed in 2017 by Energy Transfer, the pipeline company behind the Dakota Access Pipeline. The company accused Greenpeace of defamation, trespass, civil conspiracy, and interfering with its business during the high-profile 2016–2017 protests near the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. Greenpeace said it supported an indigenous-led movement and argued the lawsuit was an attempt to punish dissent. After years of filings, delays, and expanding claims, the case went to trial in February.

In March, a nine-person jury found Greenpeace liable and awarded Energy Transfer between $660 million and $667 million in damages, which is more than 10 times Greenpeace USA’s annual budget. The verdict stunned advocacy organizations nationwide and immediately cast doubt on whether Greenpeace’s US branch could survive. While the group vowed to appeal, the ruling triggered internal turmoil, board fractures, emergency cost-cutting, and contingency planning for bankruptcy.

By November, the financial strain had become acute. Greenpeace USA had cut staff, reshuffled leadership, and begun searching for a new chief financial officer. Internal clashes emerged over whether to explore settlement options. Greenpeace International, based in the Netherlands, is expected to carry on, but the US arm, which is the organization’s fundraising and political hub, may not withstand the judgment if appeals fail.

The financial gulf is stark. Greenpeace Inc. and the Greenpeace Fund together reported around $62 million in 2023 revenue. The damages exceed $660 million. Even partial enforcement would overwhelm the group’s US assets. Greenpeace argues the lawsuit disregards Indigenous leadership, threatens First Amendment protections, and could embolden corporations to deploy similar tactics against nonprofits engaged in protest.

The ruling finally holds activists accountable for economic harm inflicted during the Dakota Access Pipeline fight.

For Greenpeace, the fight is now both legal and existential. The organization that began with a Alaska voyage meant to stop a nuclear blast is confronting its own moment of detonation, this one is financial. Whether it survives the aftermath will determine not only the future of its US operations, but also the limits of environmental activism in an era of escalated counter-litigation.