This is an idea I had to think about for a while before I could accept that I actually believed it.
For years, we heard the Energy Department and Big Nuke tell us they'll pave our streets with gold if we'd just drop the fight against Yucca Mountain and accept the waste. Recently, Big Nuke's offers (by way of former Nevada governor Robert "Judas" List-scariot) have dropped, perhaps simply to reinforce to Nevadans the impression that the poison's shipment to Nevada is inevitable, and that we might as well get something before it's too late.
I never bought that. I still don't. Few things have united Las Vegas more than the disapproval for the Yucca Mountain dump, and I believe that as Southern Nevadans remain resilient, the poison will not come. One hundred-twenty billion dollars is too much for our nation to pay for a nuclear waste dump, with children living in poverty and seniors still choosing between dinner and drugs.
The risk to Nevada has always been cited as the reason for Las Vegas' opposition. What impact would any accident have on Southern Nevada's tourist economy? Would Lincoln County and St. George again feel the wrath of radioactive recklessness in the form of fallout?
But now Las Vegas faces a new risk, a threat even greater than the perception problems posed by a nuclear waste dump being built 80 miles northeast of town. It is that serpentine monster to the east, the Colorado River, slowly withering away and threatening our quality of life—and growth, which is just as important to Southern Nevada's economy as tourism.
While the risk from Yucca Mountain is a very high one, it's a perceived risk. We don't know if it will leak. We don't know if it will have an impact on the mind-set of tourists.
The risk of the Colorado River is much more than a perceived one. It is real. We have overstretched our lifeblood, and the time is now for the whole region to re-evaluate how to manage it.
Much of the nuclear poison set for Nevada will be coming from California and Arizona. Utah vehemently fought to keep the waste out of their state—better my neighbor's back yard than mine—and for Nevada to give in would mean a sacrifice on our part to benefit the rest of the West.
Shouldn't Westerners sacrifice for us?
The price Nevada should ask for a settlement is clear: water.
First, Nevada would demand a complete restructuring of the Colorado River treaty, an antiquated document that is still the law of the river and which governs how little water we can use here in Southern Nevada.
Nevada's share should be raised to where Arizona's is now. Arizona's should be increased, so that it can finally fulfill its dream of the Central Arizona Project and maintain its agricultural industry. Water should be set aside and guaranteed to Mexico, as should enough water that the Colorado could safely flow into the Gulf of California once again, preserving its estuary that has been dry for decades.
That leaves California, and its competing agricultural and urban needs.
What to do? Dedicate a portion of riverwater for the Imperial Valley—a hard number that no other part of California can ever touch. For the urban needs of Los Angeles and San Diego, the nuclear power industry should spend its bribe money constructing desalinization plants, enough of the costly facilities to make up for the missing Colorado River water—and then some.
By no means is this "all" Nevada should ask for. We need an insurance policy. A fund should be established for any—any—environmental consequences, and only for consequences in the region. This fund should be established and expanded over time, so that there will be money left for any accident generations down the line.
It's a tough pill for Nevadans to swallow. We've fought against this scourge for so long, it's hard to imagine changing our collective minds for any price. No doubt politicians don't want to leave accepting Yucca as their legacy, should a disaster occur.
But Nevada is now faced with a disaster that could be just as dangerous—the risk of running out of water to support Las Vegas' unbelievable growth. That's a disaster that is staring us in the face, a disaster that could cost our city tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of jobs.