PG&E and a Chumash Tribe had a deal for Diablo Canyon. Then the state stepped in | Opinion

In 2019, PG&E announced that once its Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant closed, they would sell the land it sits on— 12,000 acres of rolling Central Coast hills called the Pecho Coast. That same year, the California Public Utilities Commission adopted a Tribal Lands Transfer Policy mandating that public utilities disposing of lands give tribes the first right of offer to negotiate a land agreement.

When PG&E offered the lands (at market value) to the yak titʸu titʸu yak tiłhini Northern Chumash Tribe, or ytt Tribe, they jumped to re-acquire part of their ancestral homeland. By March 2021, the tribe, along with key partners, had a memorandum of understanding to acquire the entire site.

For the first time since the 1700s, the ytt Tribe could reclaim rightful ownership and stewardship of their Pecho Coast homelands. Around the country, tribes have recognized that the large, unusually unfragmented and ecologically intact landholdings associated with nuclear power plants are strong candidates for restored tribal stewardship. But now, a confluence of murky state policies and settler-colonial values around conservation is complicating the transfer process.

The ytt Tribe, one of eight distinct yet related Chumash communities across California, have remained active stewards of their homelands in San Luis Obispo County since the 1700s. Despite successive waves of occupation and colonialism, their stories and genealogy, relationships, and language all bear their continued kinship ties and obligations to these lands.

Diablo Canyon generated tense environmental and political debates and protests when it was built in 1968. For the ytt Tribe, nuclear power was just a new wave of energy colonialism privatizing and destroying Indigenous lands.

Over time, however, the nuclear sites came to be seen as uniquely protected areas. Unlike dams and oil infrastructure that degrade lands and oceans, nuclear plants require swaths of undeveloped and therefore somewhat conserved lands around them, creating unlikely possibilities for the ytt Tribe to imagine cultivating relationships with these lands for generations to come.

Indigenous leaders see stewarding nuclear sites as their responsibility. For example, at the Hanford Site — a decommissioned nuclear production complex in eastern Washington state and a Superfund site — the Wanapum tribe maintains that, despite heavy contamination, the land remains their kin.

Wanapum tribal leader Rex Buck Jr. has described Hanford as a sacred place that invited the nuclear project in order to protect the land from the further invasion and development of the settlers. Hanford, he added, “will heal itself, and the Wanapum will be part of this healing process.” The ytt Tribe shares this kind of vision for the future of the Pecho Coast.

But that vision is in jeopardy. In April 2022, Gov. Gavin Newsom proposed to extend Diablo Canyon’s life in order to meet California’s clean energy goals, and PG&E put discussions with ytt Tribe on hold. Five months later, the California State legislature passed Senate Bill 846, permitting Diablo Canyon to operate for an additional five years.

SB 846 included state funds for a Land Conservation and Economic Development Plan for after the plant closed, to support “environmental enhancements and access of Diablo Canyon power plant lands” because of their “pristine” state.

The bill conflicted with the California Public Utility Commission’s policy of giving tribes first right of offer. The bill allowed the state Legislature to bypass the tribe’s priority access to those lands, creating a loophole to redirect the land back into settler state hands.

While the tribe experienced this shift in planning as a challenge, they pivoted, creating a conservation and economic development plan that aligned with SB 846’s requirements. During a public listening session in March 2023, returning land to ytt stewardship emerged as the public’s number one priority for the site.

But when the California Legislature approved its budget in June 2023, it accepted a plan for SB 846 that earmarked funds for collaboration with tribes to develop a conservation plan. But it only gestured to a general partnership with “California Native American tribe or tribes.”

Why the sudden erasure of ytt Tribe?

It’s possible that the state is backpedaling out of caution about naming the “right” tribal partner. Though only ytt Tribe — the sole tribe that can document a presence in the region prior to Spanish colonization — initially stepped forward to purchase Diablo Canyon, numerous other tribes have made claims to the site since.

Omitting ytt Tribe from this iteration of Diablo Canyon’s future illustrates what academics mean when we talk about settler colonialism as an ongoing structure rather than a one-time event: Native Californians didn’t have their land stolen just once; decision after decision in settler society undermines Indigenous sovereignty.

On the Pecho Coast, California has an opportunity to advance its state sustainability initiatives while finally honoring its commitment to repairing relations with California tribes. Many of us are watching Diablo Canyon with hope and anticipation to see if California can give meaning to “land back.”

Lydia Heberling is an assistant professor of ethnic studies at California State Polytechnic University, San Luis Obispo. A longer version of this essay was published at Zócalo Public Square.