in this issue

I LEARNED TO hate Pacific Gas and Electric Co. long before I learned about the Raker Act and the scandal of a private utility stealing San Francisco's public power. I got started as an antinuclear activist. I'd been involved in the fight against the Seabrook, NH, nuke in college, and when I got out here, in 1981, I quickly plugged into the Abalone Alliance, which was trying to stop PG&E from building a nuclear plant on an earthquake fault. "PG&E," the billboards produced by the Public Media Center announced, "is making the mistake of our lives."

It was a wonderful time. The first Diablo blockade had just prevented the company from firing up the monster and set the construction schedule back for years. We had a statewide office, an office in San Luis Obispo, about 30 affiliate groups, and our own newspaper (It's About Times). Even the governor of California was on our side (at least he said he was). Hundreds of thousands of people showed up at the big antinuclear march in Washington, DC; the Musicians United for Safe Energy concert brought some of the leading artists of the day together and raised a ton of money. The antinuclear energy was amazing.

But it was also an immensely frustrating time – because no matter how clear the evidence that the plant was unsafe, unnecessary, and way, way too expensive, PG&E had enough political clout to just ram it right through. In the end we lost the battle – the plant opened, and everyone's electric bill has been jacked up to pay for it. But a lot of people have long believed that we won the war: By the mid-1980s, it was clear that nuclear power had no future in this country. Nobody but a lunatic would ever have suggested that another plant would ever be built. In fact, even a lot of Diablo supporters would later agree that the whole thing had been a ridiculous, stupid mistake. (The folks at the Sacramento Municipal Utility District realized that and shut down their nuke.)

That's why it's so bizarre and frightening that federal and even state officials are now talking seriously about a nuclear future. As Matthew Hirsch reports on page 16, PG&E is even taking the first steps to get a license renewal for Diablo, to run the plant another 20 years past its designed life span. Here we go again.

Tim Redmond

tredmond@sfbg.com