Environmental economists tend to think everything boils down to energy. In the case of cannabis, that might actually be true. The THC-infused gummy you popped after work, the boutique pre-roll you grabbed from your local dispensary… They each come with an invisible environmental bill. Like most things these days. Except, maybe, it’s steeper than you’d expect. Especially considering we’re talking about a plant. Duh.
Have you ever wondered how many kilowatt-hours it takes to grow weed? Or how many gallons of water it guzzled on its way to your grinder?
Cannabis is now one of the most resource-intensive crops in North America. And much of that burden stems not from the plant itself, but from the political architecture that surrounds legal cannabis. Indoor cultivation has become the dominant mode in many U.S. states because federal prohibition locks production within state borders. The result is High-yield, high-potency cannabis grown under LED arrays, HVAC systems, and pumped-in CO2, all of which come at a steep environmental cost. And that’s highly inefficient.
And it’s also highly inefficient. I’m not an expert (editor’s note: he is! Just too humble to acknowledge it himself), but some trustworthy sources have stated many times that both yields and quality can often be achieved outdoors or in greenhouses using a free and vastly underutilized energy source in cannabis: the sun.
So if you’re a user who also cares about climate change and the environmental impact of your consumption, stick around. We’re about to dive into some hard science and unpack the real ecological footprint behind your favorite flower.
Worse Than Bitcoin
Until recently, there was little data on the environmental impact of cannabis. That changed in 2021, when a team at Colorado State University published the first peer-reviewed life-cycle assessment of indoor cultivation. They found that growing one kilogram of cannabis indoors emits between 2.3 and 5.2 metric tons of CO2 equivalent—about the same as burning 250 to 500 gallons of gasoline. Lighting, HVAC systems, dehumidifiers, and CO2 enrichment were the largest contributors to that footprint.
In colder states like Massachusetts or Illinois, indoor facilities must run heating and lighting nearly year-round. In British Columbia, some greenhouses burn natural gas for temperature control even during spring. Across the board, indoor cultivation is extremely energy-intensive, and emissions vary based on local energy grids. If your state runs on coal or natural gas, your weed is leaving a much larger footprint.
A following study, published in 2025 by energy researcher Evan Mills, finds that cannabis cultivation in the U.S. now emits an estimated 44 million metric tons of CO₂-equivalent per year—roughly the same as 10 million cars or 6 million homes.
That figure includes both legal and illicit production, and about 90% of the emissions come from indoor facilities. According to Mills, the sector now burns through 595 petajoules of energy annually, costing roughly $11 billion. That’s on par with all other U.S. crop production combined, and more than the energy consumed by the entire pharmaceutical or beverage industries, and it doubles the amount of greenhouse emissions produced by cryptocurrency mining.
Outdoor vs. Indoor: A Tale of Two Systems
When we talk about cannabis and the environment, the production method matters a lot. Although some unpleasant cropping practices might threaten outdoor cultivation substantially, scientists think that outdoor cultivation can reduce emissions by up to 96% compared to indoor cultivation. Greenhouses, particularly those that supplement with solar power and minimal artificial lighting, can lower emissions by 50–70%.
Yet, the majority of cannabis in the U.S. is still grown indoors. Outdoor grows are often heavily restricted due to zoning laws, odor complaints, and fears of illegal diversion. In some states with medical cannabis programs, outdoor cannabis production is banned by law. Something about hiding the plant that makes partial legalization more tolerable for the narrow-minded.
Meanwhile, federal prohibition prevents cannabis from crossing state lines. That means a state like New York, where climate conditions are suboptimal, must still grow its supply indoors rather than import sun-grown product from, say, Mendocino County, California. The result is what we might call supply chain autarky—a cannabis economy where every state is its own inefficient, emissions-intensive island.
Federal prohibition it’s a climate policy failure we don’t talk about enough.
Water, Fertilizers, and Chemical Drift
Cannabis is a thirsty plant, too. Studies show that a single cannabis plant can consume up to 22 liters (6 gallons) of water per day during peak growing season. In drought-prone regions like California, this has sparked battles over groundwater access and illegal diversions from rivers and streams. Some unlicensed growers have even siphoned water from critical fish habitats, further destabilizing fragile ecosystems.
Then there’s fertilizer. Some of the commercial cannabis we consume requires high doses of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium (NPK) to achieve competitive yields. But excess nitrogen often leaches into soil or escapes into the atmosphere as nitrous oxide (N₂O)—a greenhouse gas that is 265 times more potent than CO₂ over a 100-year timeframe. The widespread use of synthetic fertilizers in both legal and illicit operations exacerbates soil degradation, runoff, and long-term ecological harm.
Despite tight regulatory controls in some states, both licensed and unlicensed grows, particularly on public lands, continue to use banned or untraceable agrochemicals. The damage isn’t limited to cannabis fields, and it spreads through runoff, aerosol drift, and soil persistence.
Shielded Yet Vulnerable
If you think about it, cannabis is the only major agricultural commodity in the U.S. banned from interstate commerce. Tomatoes travel. Wine travels. Even guns and prescription drugs travel. But not weed.
This is of consequence, as it creates a bizarre economic geography. Instead of letting efficient producers supply broader markets, we force every state to produce, process, and sell its cannabis regardless of local climate, costs, or environmental impacts.
From an economic perspective, this creates duplication and overcapacity. From an environmental perspective, it leads to absurdity: indoor grows in Vermont or Michigan running 24/7 just to meet arbitrary legal supply rules.
Regulators and prohibitionists both have created a protectionist system that maximizes emissions in the name of safety, sovereignty, and legal insulation.
As you might tell, we’ve been conscious about the cannabis footprint for years now; evidence has piled up, so there’s no surprise that some people are catching the drift. In California, there’s a non-profit that has launched a Sun+Earth Certified label for cannabis grown with organic, regenerative, solar-powered methods.
Canada is -slowly- building energy efficiency into licensing criteria. Recent regulatory conversations indicate the license framework increasingly considers production standards.
Colorado is experimenting with carbon capture retrofits and mandating energy audits for large producers. In 2022, Authorities published a Guide called Cannabis Environmental Best Management Practices, which focuses on reducing the carbon footprint. You can find it here.
Still, without federal reform in the U.S., most of these efforts remain cosmetic, since the root problem is balkanized, closed-loop state markets.
The solution would be to treat cannabis like an agricultural commodity, not a moral exception. Allow cross-border trade between licensed producers. Let high-sunlight, low-impact regions specialize. Free the plant from the bunker. Only then can we begin to shrink its outsized environmental footprint.
Because right now, your “locally grown” joint might be anything but green.
Photo: Shutterstock
