Science
Earthquake risks and rising costs: The price of operating California's last nuclear plant

Under two gargantuan domes of thick concrete and steel that rise along California’s rugged Central Coast, subatomic particles slam into uranium, triggering one of the most energetic reactions on Earth.
Amid coastal bluffs speckled with brush and buckwheat, Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant uses this energy to spin two massive copper coils at a blistering 30 revolutions per second. In 2022, these generators — about the size of school buses — produced 6% of Californians’ power and 11% of their non-fossil energy.
Yet it comes at almost double the cost of other low-carbon energy sources and, according to the federal agency that oversees the plant, carries a roughly 1 in 25,000 chance of suffering a Chernobyl-style nuclear meltdown before its scheduled decommissioning in just five years — due primarily to nearby fault lines.
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As Gov. Gavin Newsom’s administration looks to the aging reactor to help ease the state’s transition to renewable energy, Diablo Canyon is drawing renewed criticism from those who say the facility is too expensive and too dangerous to continue operating.
Diablo is just the latest in a series of plants built in the atomic frenzy of the 1970s and ’80s seeking an operating license renewal from the federal Nuclear Regulatory Commission as the clock on their initial 40-year run ticks down. As the price of wind and solar continues to drop, the criticisms against Diablo reflect a nationwide debate.

Tom Jones, right, a regulatory and environmental senior director at PG&E, and Jerel Strickland, a senior licensing and spent nuclear storage consultant, walk past one of two massive turbine-generator units inside the turbine building at Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant recently.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
The core of the debate lives in the quaint coastal town of San Luis Obispo, just 12 miles inland from the concrete domes, where residents expected Diablo Canyon to shut down over the next year after its license expired.
Instead, Newsom struck a deal on the last possible day of the state’s 2021-22 legislative session to keep the plant running until 2030, citing worries over summer blackouts as the state transitions to clean energy. The activists who had negotiated the shutdown with PG&E and the state six years prior were left stunned.
Today, the plant is still buzzing with life: Nuclear fission, in the deep heart of the plant, continues to superheat water to 600 degrees at 150 times atmospheric pressure. Generators continue to whir with a haunting and deafening hum that reverberates throughout the massive turbine deck.
Left untouched, nuclear fission erupts into a runaway chain reaction that can heat the core of a nuclear plant to thousands of degrees, liquifying the metal around it into radioactive lava.
So, operators have to constantly stifle the reaction to keep it under control.
In the event of an earthquake, they need to stop the reaction as quickly as possible. But if the shaking is so rapid and intense that the plant is critically damaged before it can shut down, operators could become helpless in preventing a meltdown.

Tom Jones, senior director of Regulatory Environmental and Repurposing at PG&E, talks about how the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant operates.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)

Tom Jones, senior director of Regulatory Environmental and Repurposing at PG&E, is reflected in a display that explains the fission process at Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant recently.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Diablo Canyon is built to endure specific intensities and speeds of shaking — but predicting how likely an earthquake is to exceed those specifications is no easy task. Earthquakes are the result of deeply complex underground motion and forces, and they’re notoriously chaotic.
In order to start estimating the seismic safety of the plant, geophysicists have to understand: first, where the faults are; second, how much they’re slipping to trigger earthquakes; and finally, when those quakes hit, how much shaking they cause.
Earthquakes account for about 65% of the risk for a worst-case scenario meltdown. Potential internal fires at the plant make up another 18%. The last 17% is made up of everything from aircraft impacts and meteorites to sink holes and snow.
In assessing the likelihood of all these threats, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission estimates that in any given year, each of Diablo Canyon’s two reactor units has a roughly 1 in 12,000 chance of experiencing a nuclear meltdown similar to Japan’s Fukushima disaster.
Likewise, there’s about a 1 in 127,000 chance a failure will cause the plant to release exorbitant amounts radioactive material into the atmosphere before residents could evacuate, creating a Chernobyl-style disaster.
This means that, every year, nearby residents have roughly the same chance of seeing a nuclear meltdown as dying in a car crash. Also, in any given year, they’re about 50 times more likely to face a mass-casualty radioactive catastrophe than get struck by lightning.
Diablo Canyon employees work around the clock to ensure the risk is as small as possible. “Our safety culture, it’s always on the top of my mind,” said Maureen Zawalick, the vice president of business and technical services at Diablo. “It’s in my DNA.”

Maureen Zawalick, PG&E Business and Technical Services vice president, in her office at the Diablo Canyon Power Plant.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
The plant is the only one in the U.S. with a dedicated geoscience team that studies the region’s seismic landscape. And like other nuclear facilities, Diablo has done countless tests on its equipment, hosted walkthroughs with regulators to identify possible points of failure and generated thousands of pages of analysis on the facility’s ability to withstand the largest earthquake possible at the site.
Earthquake precautions include massive metal dampers that are fixed to essential infrastructure, such as the duct carrying the control rooms’ air supply. In the event of a tremor, monstrous concrete pillars penetrate deep into the bedrock to keep the building and essential infrastructure grounded. The hefty concrete walls reinforced with steel rebar as thick as a human arm safely distribute the forces throughout the structure to prevent critical cracks or collapses.
If the plant loses power, there are backup generators for the backup generators.

A worker pushes a utility cart past a billboard that lists employee goals at Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant recently.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Operators spend a fifth of their time on the job training for every possible nightmare. Diablo has a simulator on site that’s an exact replica of the Unit One control room. It’s capable of putting operators through the worst conditions imaginable. It shakes with the vigor of a real earthquake. The lights flicker and the analog dials spin back up as emergency power comes online.
For everyone working on site — including the senior leadership team — safety is personal. Should something go wrong, their lives are on the line.
“With any source of energy, there is risk,” said Zawalick. “All the independent assessments, all the audits, all the third party reviews, all of that …. is what gives me the confidence and the security and the safety of why I’ve been out here almost 30 years.” Her office is no more than 500 feet from the reactors.
“If there ever was an earthquake of any magnitude in this community,” she said, “I would grab my two daughters and we’d come here.”

Maureen Zawalick, PG&E Business and Technical Services vice president, looks out her office window at Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant recently.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Many critics charge that the risks are understated — due in part to a cozy relationship between industry and regulators. (Some scientists involved with one of Diablo Canyon’s two independent review organizations have collaborated on scientific papers with PG&E staff and funding.)
The Nuclear Regulatory Commission also oversees the plant and conducts its own investigations. In July, the government agency dismissed all three formal criticisms against Diablo’s seismic safety in the plant’s license renewal process.
Sam Blakeslee, a San Luis Opispo geophysicist and former state senator and Assembly member, has a list of technical concerns — primarily the lack of shaking data close to fault lines, which are used to inform the models that predict earthquake motion at the plant — but he likens the core of his concern to the NASA Challenger disaster.
NASA publicly touted a strong safety culture and low chances of things going wrong. Yet, the investigation found political and public pressures had corrupted the safety from the top down.
He argues this is a possibility for any large organization dealing with complex and potentially dangerous systems. Therefore, people need to constantly hold the plant accountable.
“That’s why I tend to try to make sure that the community voice is present,” he said, “ because we are the ones that will pay the price.”
In 2022, Newsom introduced a proposal to keep Diablo Canyon open past its two reactors’ 2024 and 2025 shutdown dates. His proposal, distributed to lawmakers just three weeks before the end of the legislative session, set off a flurry of negotiations among PG&E, the governor and the Legislature.
After discussion drew on past midnight, the Legislature passed the bill.
But it comes at a cost.
While the average price of solar and wind have dropped dramatically over the past 15 years, nuclear’s has been steadily rising. In 2009, solar cost three times what nuclear did, and wind was about even with it. Now, nuclear is over two times the cost of both renewables.
Technical advancements have slashed the price of renewable energy, but nuclear power has faced more outages, equipment replacements and increasingly stringent and expensive safety requirements in the wake of the Fukushima disaster.
One study from MIT researchers found that about a third of the increasing cost could be attributed to safety requirements from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. They attribute another third to research and development projects for efficiency, reliability and safety improvements, and they assign the final third to a decrease in worker productivity — perhaps in part due to lower morale.

Twin containment domes rise above the facility as seen through a windshield on the drive to the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
PG&E is estimating that Diablo Canyon will produce energy at $91 per megawatt-hour during its extension. (The average U.S. household buys about 10 megawatt-hours every year.)
However, the Alliance for Nuclear Responsibility argues the plant’s cost is even higher. David Weisman, the legislative director at the alliance, said PG&E is using optimistic predictions of its energy output for the extended period — 5% higher than previous years.
On top of that, the state gave PG&E a $1.4-billion loan to alleviate the initial costs of extended operations. But Wiesman said the funds don’t necessarily need to go toward offsetting the cost of running Diablo. The federal government agreed to reimburse the state up to $1.1 billion — depending on whether the plant meets specific operating criteria — and PG&E is expected to pay off the rest of the loan with profits.
While the loan isn’t a cost that consumers would see on their energy bills, taxpayers across the country could foot the bill. Weisman argued that it brings Diablo’s cost to a maximum of $115 per megawatt-hour — roughly double the cost of solar.
Yet Newsom argues that if California is to meet its goals of 60% renewable energy by 2030, Diablo needs to stay online in the meantime to ensure the state has reliable power amid heatwaves and wildfires.
Diablo Canyon essentially runs 24/7, providing constant power to the state (assuming it doesn’t have any issues, which it sometimes does). For solar to provide similarly constant power, the electric grid will require a massive expansion of its battery infrastructure to store the energy between the midday peak of energy production and the evening peak of energy use.
However, new studies are finding that energy storage is a feasible approach to grid reliability — and that even when adding the price of that infrastructure, solar still costs less than nuclear.

Tom Jones, a regulatory and environmental senior director at PG&E, talks about the number of days that Turbine Unit One has operated to bring power to California while inside the turbine building at Diablo Canyon Power Plant recently.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Since Diablo’s extension was signed into law, California has almost doubled its battery storage. The state now has enough to supplement about a quarter of the state’s power needs for about half an hour during peak energy usage (although, in practice, it would likely supplement much less for much longer).
“That’s four or five Diablo Canyons,” said Weisman. Newsom should “save the people of California [billions of dollars] thrown down PG&E’s rat hole, declare triumphant victory in the renewable race and accept the laurels.”
Instead, at a recent press event announcing California had reached a fifth of its storage capacity goal, Newsom laughed off the idea that Californians will no longer have to worry about blackouts.
“We have a lot of work to do still in moving this transition, with the kind of stability that’s required,” he said. “So no, this is not today announcing that blackouts are part of our past.”
Diablo Canyon’s leaders and advocates view the plant as supporting California through this challenging transition period: It’s not perfect, but it provides the state with much-needed reliable, clean power, they say.
In a conference call shortly after Diablo’s initial 2024 shutdown date was negotiated, then-chief executive of PG&E Tony Earley acknowledged the plant would eventually become too expensive to operate.
“As we make this transition, Diablo Canyon’s full output will no longer be required,” he said.

Steam rises from the Pacific Ocean where an outfall of heated water from the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant pours into coastal waters.
(Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times)
Zawalick said the Diablo team is ready to continue operating as long as the state needs it to. “Thinking about electrification, [electric vehicle] demand, continued drought, the temperatures we’re seeing, wildfires … tariffs — I mean, the list goes on,” she said. “That’s making the equation a bit challenging to see exactly when Diablo will shut down versus how long Diablo will be needed by the state.”

Science
At Chile’s Vera Rubin Observatory, Earth’s Largest Camera Surveys the Sky

At the heart of the new Vera C. Rubin Observatory in Chile is the world’s largest digital camera. About the size of a small car, it will create an unparalleled map of the night sky.
The observatory’s first public images of the sky are expected to be released on June 23. Here’s how its camera works.
When Times reporters visited the observatory on top of an 8,800-foot-high mountain in May, the telescope was undergoing calibration to measure minute differences in the sensitivity of the camera’s pixels. The camera is expected to have a life of more than 10 years.
A single Rubin image contains roughly as much data as all the words that The New York Times has published since 1851. The observatory will produce about 20 terabytes of data every night, which will be transferred and processed at facilities in California, France and Britain.
Specialized software will compare each new image with a template assembled from previous data, revealing changes in brightness or position in the sky. The observatory is expected to detect up to 10 million changes every night.
Some changes will be artificial. Simulations suggest that roughly one in 10 Rubin images will contain at least one bright streak or glint from the thousands of SpaceX Starlink and other satellites orbiting Earth.
Despite streaks, clouds, maintenance and other interruptions over the next decade, the Rubin Observatory is expected to catalog 20 billion galaxies and 17 billion stars across the Southern sky.
Science
'We are still here, yet invisible.' Study finds that U.S. government has overestimated Native American life expectancy

Official U.S. records dramatically underestimate mortality and life expectancy disparities for Native Americans, according to a new, groundbreaking study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association. The research, led by the Boston University School of Public Health, provides compelling evidence of a profound discrepancy between actual and officially reported statistics on the health outcomes of American Indian and Alaska Native (AI/AN) populations in the U.S.
The study, novel in its approach, tracks mortality outcomes over time among self-identified AI/AN individuals in a nationally representative cohort known as the Mortality Disparities in American Communities. The researchers linked data from the U.S. Census Bureau’s 2008 American Community Survey with official death certificates from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s National Vital Statistics System from 2008 through 2019, and found that the life expectancy of AI/AN populations was 6.5 years lower than the national average. They then compared this to data from the CDC’s WONDER database, and found that their numbers were nearly three times greater than the gap reported by the CDC.
Indeed, the study found that the life expectancy for AI/AN individuals was just 72.7 years, comparable to that of developing countries.
The researchers also uncovered widespread racial misclassification. The study reports that some 41% of AI/AN deaths were incorrectly classified in the CDC WONDER database, predominantly misrecorded as “White.” These systemic misclassifications drastically skewed official statistics, presenting AI/AN mortality rates as only 5% higher than the national average. When they adjusted the data to account for those misclassifications, the researchers found that the actual rate was 42% higher than initially reported.
The issue of racial misclassification “is not new for us at all,” said Nanette Star, director of policy and planning at the California Consortium for Urban Indian Health. The recent tendency for journalists and politicians to use umbrella terms like “Indigenous” rather than the more precise “American Indian and Alaska Native” can obscure the unique needs, histories and political identities of AI/AN communities, Star noted, and contribute to their erasure in both data and public discourse. “That is the word we use — erasure — and it really does result in that invisibility in our health statistics,” she said.
Issues related to racial misclassification in public records persist across the entire life course for AI/AN individuals, from birth to early childhood interventions to chronic disease and death. Star noted that in California, especially in urban regions like Los Angeles, Native individuals are frequently misidentified as Latino or multiracial, which profoundly distorts public health data and masks the extent of health disparities. “It really does mask the true scale of premature mortality and health disparities among our communities,” Star said.
Further, said Star, the lack of accurate data exacerbates health disparities. “It really is a public health and justice issue,” she said. “If you don’t have those numbers to support the targeted response, you don’t get the funding for these interventions or even preventative measures.”
According to U.S. Census data, California is home to the largest AI/AN population in the United States. That means it has a unique opportunity to lead the nation in addressing these systemic issues. With numerous federally and state-recognized tribes, as well as substantial urban AI/AN populations, California can prioritize collaborative and accurate public health data collection and reporting.
Star noted that current distortions are not always malicious but often stem from a lack of training. She suggested that California implement targeted training programs for those charged with recording this data, including funeral directors, coroners, medical doctors and law enforcement agents; allocate dedicated resources to improve the accuracy of racial classification on vital records; and strengthen partnerships with tribal leaders.
The study authors suggest similar approaches, and there are numerous examples of successful cases of Indigenous-led health partnerships seen across Canada and the U.S. that have helped reduce health disparities among AI/AN communities that could be used as a template.
These efforts would not only help to move toward rectifying historical inaccuracies, but also ensure that AI/AN communities receive equitable health resources and policy attention.
“When AI/AN people are misclassified in life and in death, it distorts public health data and drives inequities even deeper,” said Star. “Accurate data isn’t just about numbers — it’s about honoring lives, holding systems accountable and making sure our communities are seen and served.”
Science
Supreme Court upholds red-state laws that ban hormones for transgender teens

WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court ruled Wednesday that states may ban hormone treatments for transgender teens, rejecting the claim that such gender-based discrimination is unconstitutional.
In a 6-3 decision, the justices said states are generally free to decide on proper standards of medical care, particularly when health experts are divided.
Chief Justice John G. Roberts, writing for the court, said the state decides on medical regulations. “We leave questions regarding its policy to the people, their elected representatives, and the democratic process,” he said.
In dissent, Justice Sonia Sotomayor said the law “plainly discriminates on the basis of sex… By retreating from meaningful judicial review exactly where it matters most, the Court abandons transgender children and their families to political whims. In sadness, I dissent.” Justices Elena Kagan and Ketanji Brown Jackson agreed.
The ruling upholds laws in Tennessee and 23 other Republican-led states, all of them adopted in the past four years.
Tennessee lawmakers said the number of minors being diagnosed with gender dysphoria had “exploded” in recent years, leading to a “surge in unproven and risky medical interventions for these underage patients.”
California and other Democratic-led states do not prohibit doctors from prescribing puberty blockers or hormones for those under age 18 who are diagnosed with gender dysphoria.
While the court’s ruling in the Tennessee case should not directly affect California’s law, the Trump administration seeks to prevent the use of federal funds to pay for gender affirming care.
This could affect patients who rely on Medicaid and also restrict hospitals and other medical clinics from providing hormones and other medical treatments for minors.
Wednesday’s decision highlights the sharp turn in the past year on trans rights and “gender affirming” care.
Solicitor Gen. Elizabeth Prelogar, representing the Biden administration, had appealed to the Supreme Court in November 2023, and urged the justices to strike down the red-state laws.
She spoke of a broad consensus in favor of gender affirming care. It was unconstitutional, she argued, for states to ban “evidence-based treatments supported by the overwhelming consensus of the medical community.”
But Republican lawmakers voiced doubt about the long-term effect of these hormone treatments for adolescents.
Their skepticism was reinforced by the Cass Report from Britain, which concluded there were not long-term studies or reliable evidence in support of the treatments.
Trans-rights advocates argued the court should have deferred to parents and their doctors, not state lawmakers.
“The court today failed to do its job,” said Jennifer Levi, GLAD Law senior director of transgender and queer rights. “When the political system breaks down and legislatures bow to popular hostility, the judiciary must be the Constitution’s backbone. Instead, it chose to look away, abandoning both vulnerable children and the parents who love them.”
Lawyers for Lambda Legal and the ACLU called it “a heartbreaking ruling, making it more difficult for transgender youth to escape the danger and trauma of being denied their ability to live and thrive.”
“This is a sad day, and the implications will reverberate for years and across the country, but it does not shake our resolve to continue fighting,” said Sasha Buchert, a Lambda attorney.
Upon taking office in January, President Trump targeted transgender people without specifically mentioning them.
He said his administration would “recognize two sexes, male and female. These sexes are not changeable and are grounded in fundamental and incontrovertible reality.”
His administration later said its ban on gender affirming care for minors would extend to medical facilities receiving federal funds.
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