SANTA ANA PUEBLO — When it comes to New Mexico’s relationship with nuclear power, it’s complicated.

The state has been on the periphery of the nuclear power industry, with a history of uranium mining but no commercial nuclear plants. Between two national laboratories, various research institutions and plentiful uranium reserves, however, speakers at the first-ever Nuclear in New Mexico conference last week said the state could be well positioned for a boom in nuclear energy.

The Trump administration has pulled back on renewable energies like wind and solar, deriding them as “Green New Scam” technologies, but gone all in on promoting nuclear power amid soaring energy use projections. The federal government put out a request for information for “nuclear lifecycle innovation campuses” and received “dozens” of responses, according to a spokesperson. They did not confirm whether New Mexico was one of the states that submitted a response.

Janet Lee-Sheriff, a Clean Energy Association of New Mexico board member and a leader of two in-situ mineral recovery companies, said the organization wants to start a “conversation” around nuclear power, which made up about 8% of the United States’ energy mix in 2024, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration.

The conference, organized by the Clean Energy Association of New Mexico, is the latest indication of a renewed interest in nuclear power. Last year, a state advocacy group — the New Mexico Nuclear Alliance — also made its debut.

The three-day conference, held at the Hyatt Regency Tamaya Resort and Spa at Santa Ana Pueblo, was well-attended by industry members, government officials and tribal leaders.

Nuclear power has a tenuous spot on the clean energy list: While attractive for its carbon-free generation of 24/7 base load power — a gummy-bear sized pellet of uranium fuel can produce as much energy as a ton of coal — its high upfront costs and radioactive fuel source are often criticized by environmental groups.

The state, home to the only underground disposal site for transuranic waste from nuclear weapons production, resisted an effort by New Jersey-based Holtec International to build a temporary — likely decades-long — waste site to consolidate spent nuclear fuel until the nation completes construction of a permanent storage facility. Though, a project at Nevada’s Yucca Mountain has been stalled for years due to opposition.

Holtec’s decision last year to pull back on a project proposed in southeastern New Mexico came after years of pushback in the state.

New Mexico’s pervasive uranium mining legacy waste also has been a stumbling block.

The Grants uranium mining district was productive during the Cold War era. In a 1977 report, the New Mexico Bureau of Mines and Mineral Resources wrote the state had produced more uranium than any other and anticipated New Mexico would remain an important part of uranium production.

The report didn’t, however, predict the market’s decline in the 1990s, instead forecasting uranium would become increasingly important as traditional fuels became more scarce.

Hundreds of abandoned uranium mines were left around New Mexico and throughout the Navajo Nation.

“[New Mexico has] almost been forgotten in terms of the legacy issues,” said William Sheriff, executive chair of in-situ uranium mining company Verdera Energy Corp., during one of last week’s conference panels. “The prospectivity of it’s been well-known for decades, but … due to the legacy issues it was improperly put up on the back burner and not addressed.”

Leona Morgan, however, had a different explanation: a concerted anti-nuclear movement throughout the state.

Morgan, a commissioner for the Diné Uranium Remediation Advisory Commission, attended parts of the conference. On Wednesday, driven by concerns about human and environmental health, she protested outside it.

“Once they stop mining, what happens?” Morgan asked.

New uranium mining projects proposed in the Carson National Forest in Northern New Mexico and near Mount Taylor in Western New Mexico have reignited concerns about the impacts on the state for such operations, even as advocates argue newer mining techniques are safer and more environmentally friendly.

A proposal from a Canadian mining company to conduct exploratory drilling seeking uranium in the Canjilon area of the Carson National Forest north of Abiquiú has drawn concern and outrage across the region, with opponents citing potential impacts to the Rio Chama watershed.

Changes on the horizon

Although rare, a handful of high-profile accidents at nuclear power plants have made the industry stop and start.

When Lynn Walter graduated in 1979, nuclear energy was poised for a boom. Orders to build nuclear power reactors were rolling in, Walter recalls.

Then the Three Mile Island accident changed everything. The partial meltdown of the nuclear generating station in Pennsylvania prompted massive changes in the industry to ensure safety. And those orders that had been rolling in? Many of them were canceled.

Walter, who grew up in California, is the daughter of a nuclear engineer. Now involved with Moms for Nuclear, she said she grew up without the fear of nuclear that many others in her generation had and still have.

She worked at the Diablo Canyon Power Plant in San Luis Obispo County, Calif., for more than 25 years and, after a lifetime in California, relocated to Santa Fe a few years ago.

When it comes to accidents involving nuclear, memories are long.

“We can’t have another one of those,” Walter acknowledged in an interview last year. “Because all of us will fail.”

But she noted the nuclear energy industry still largely relies on plants built in the 1960s and 1970s, despite more recent innovations and developments.

That could be changing.

Jennifer Spina, vice president of nuclear regulatory and oversight at the Palo Verde Generating Station in Tonopah, Ariz., said conversations about a nuclear renaissance were initially focused on small reactors. But as energy demands are projected to rise dramatically, there’s renewed interest in large, traditional nuclear reactors as well.

The long-standing Palo Verde, built in the 1980s and partially owned by Public Service Company of New Mexico, operates like a small city with its own cafeteria, fire service and shooting range.

The plant is currently seeking a license extension for another 20 years.

“There’s a lot on our horizon,” Spina said in a recent interview. “There is a lot going on in the energy space in general, but in the nuclear space in particular there’s a lot of focus on … both existing and new nuclear, continuing to make sure that the existing fleet operates reliably and consistently and at a high level of capacity.”

Palo Verde was for many years the largest nuclear plant in the country, employing roughly 2,200 year-round employees and between 800 to 1,000 seasonal contractors. The plant was recently surpassed in size by the Alvin W. Vogtle Electric Generating Plant in Georgia, which had two new units come online in the past few years.

Palo Verde is also the only nuclear plant not sited on a body of water, Spina said. Located in the dry Arizona desert, the plant uses roughly 68 million gallons of water per day, sourced from recycled wastewater from surrounding areas.

Whether a developer wants to build a small modular reactor or a traditional nuclear reactor, there are high up-front costs, Spina said, which could determine which route a utility might take. Load needs would also be taken into consideration.

But, she said, “I don’t think at this point anything is off the table.”

Local, state pushback

Nuclear energy could face legislative headwinds in New Mexico.

In 2023, state lawmakers adopted a bill that prevented the state from issuing permits to build storage facilities for spent fuel and other radioactive wastes without prior consent from the state and action from the federal government on establishing an underground repository.

This year, a bill to classify nuclear power as a renewable energy, so utilities could use the power sources to meet renewable energy targets, failed to clear a legislative committee.

Bill sponsor Meredith Dixon, D-Albuquerque, a speaker at last week’s nuclear conference, said the discussion was still “fruitful.”

“I think there’s a strong recognition in the Legislature of some of the legacy issues and concern by communities,” Dixon said. “But then also a recognition that our state needs more energy and electricity as data center demand grows, and growth and development overall. So, how are we going to do that and meet our clean energy goals for the ETA?”

She was referring to the 2019 New Mexico Energy Transition Act, which sets ambitious goals for the state’s investor-owned utilities — a renewable energy portfolio of 50% by 2030, 80% by 2040 and 100% by 2045; rural electric cooperatives must reach 100% by 2050.

The divide over nuclear was evident in Santa Ana Pueblo and adjacent Bernalillo last week. While experts and advocates discussed the potential future for an industry in New Mexico on Wednesday, a group of protesters gathered at the corner of Tamaya Boulevard and U.S 550.

The wind whipped signs bearing phrases like “No Uranium Mining in New Mexico,” and cars whizzed past on the busy thoroughfare.

Protesters waved at passing cars, many of which honked at the group.

Sharon Argenbright, a retired nurse and member of Veterans for Peace, said she only saw one middle finger — and she takes the honks as a sign of support.

Organizer Alhelí Caton-Garcia said the supply chain for nuclear energy “is not a clean chain,” and she felt compelled to speak up about nuclear issues in the state.

“In New Mexico, we know the poisonous, damaging legacy of uranium mining,” protester Jean Crawford said.

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