The Biden administration, members of Congress and native tribes will commemorate the designation of the on Monday — the first such preserve in California to be managed in cooperation with Indigenous peoples.
The 4,543-square-mile sanctuary, located off California’s rugged Central Coast, would prohibit oil drilling and offer other protections to an area that encompasses numerous cultural resources, including the suspected remains of ancient, submerged villages.
The preserve could one day serve as the final puzzle piece of an effort to protect virtually all of California’s coast from the Channel Islands to Point Arena, north of the Bay Area.
“I am overwhelmed with pride for our community and just how much, how far we’ve been able to come in such a short time,” said Kenneth Kahn, chairman of the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians. “We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is responsible for managing the preserve, but Indigenous tribes will directly advise the agency. The Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians, which has territory overlapping with the sanctuary and is the only federally recognized Chumash tribe, has been designated as NOAA’s key Indigenous partner.
Some Indigenous leaders say NOAA’s tribal consultation process fell short, but most agree the sanctuary is a step forward for conservation of the ocean, which provides Californians food, a temperate climate and recreation. Humans, they say, have a responsibility to protect it.
“We’re accomplishing a lot of things here,” said Rep. Salud Carbajal (D-Santa Barbara), who represents the swath of coast adjacent to the sanctuary and has championed the project since he was elected in 2017.
“It’s good for the environment, good for biodiversity, the ecosystem, the cultural resources, the marine life, but also protecting our region and coast from future offshore oil drilling.”
NOAA announced the designation last week, starting a 45-day countdown on the congressional calendar until it takes effect, during which Gov. Gavin Newsom has the power to veto it. Officials have no expectation he will do so, however.
Newsom’s administration have been involved in the designation process, and the sanctuary aligns with both Biden’s America the Beautiful initiative and Newsom’s 30×30 goal — both of which aim to conserve 30% of land and waters by 2030.
“There are still a lot of questions about how its going to work … I don’t have all the answers but we’re going to figure this out together,” said Paul Michel, regional policy coordinator for the West Coast at NOAA. “We need to get together, roll up our sleeves and get busy learning from each other.”
The proposal was first submitted in 2015 by the Northern Chumash Tribal Council, a nonprofit organization focused on rekindling Chumash culture and heritage and raising public awareness. The proposal was submitted not long after the Obama administration started allowing the public to propose sanctuaries for the first time in decades.
In 2021 — after years of sitting on the shelf during the Trump administration — the Biden administration made the proposal a top priority.
But after NOAA publicly posted its initial detailed plan in 2023, progress hit a wall.
Many Indigenous and environmental leaders wanted the sanctuary to extend up to the Monterey Bay sanctuary, past the Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant.
But offshore wind companies had long planned developing near the power plant, which provides an easy connection to the electrical grid since Diablo Canyon already sends 6% of the state’s power from the coast inland.
Eventually NOAA proposed a reduced sanctuary with the promise of considering expansions every five years during its required management plan review process, potentially absorbing the offshore wind waters once construction finishes.
The compromise, which the White House helped broker, aims to establish the sanctuary before the presidential election — allowing officials to work out the complex details later without jeopardizing the whole sanctuary.
Yet some say the government’s efforts to work side-by-side with Indigenous tribes has fallen short.
Haylee Bautista, ocean advocate with the yak titʸu titʸu yak tiłhini Northern Chumash Tribe of San Luis Obispo County and Region — whose tribal territory overlaps with the sanctuary — said her tribe wasn’t made aware of the proposal until after an initial plan was already submitted to NOAA.
“We’ve voiced our concerns multiple times and submitted letters and the reciprocation hasn’t been great,” Bautista said.
“The ocean is a very sacred and important place to us, so the fact that they’re so quick to dismiss what we have to say about it … is just really disheartening.”
While the government has come a long way in recognizing the importance of Indigenous voices, they are often still an afterthought, she said.
Both the federal government and tribal leaders acknowledge that many lessons were learned during the first-of-its-kind process.
“We will continue to learn,” said Michel. “We’re in that process of developing relationships, hopefully some trust along the way. But we’re really at a starting point here with what we’ve heard so far and big hopes for where we could go.”
The Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary is lined with sandy beaches and rocky shores and is home to a multitude of seabirds and sea lions. Kelp forests — one of the most on the planet and great at absorbing carbon — sit off the coast.
On the deep seafloor, rough volcanic terrain harbors corals, sponges and fish. The open ocean is home to whales, turtles and jellyfish.
Yet these vibrant ecosystems are facing threats from all sides.
Seawater along California’s Central Coast is becoming increasingly unlivable. The Santa Maria and Santa Ynez rivers — neither of which meet state water quality standards — discharge a mix of toxic chemicals, fertilizer, grease and dangerous bacteria.
Large cruise ships and industrial cargo vessels dump pollutants — including human sewage — directly into the waters. Passengers and crew on a single cruise ship can generate millions of gallons of waste per day.
Seven offshore drilling rigs stand in the vicinity, with three permanently shuttered, and four temporarily out of operation. They are each connected to shore by miles of oil-carrying pipeline, and spills have fouled the sea multiple times since the area was first developed in the 1970s.
In 1997, a Freeport-McMoRan pipeline ruptured, releasing thousands of gallons of oil, killing hundreds of seabirds. In 2015, an ExxonMobil pipeline spilled over a hundred thousands gallons of crude oil into the ocean.
As greenhouse gas emissions warm the sea, ocean oxygen levels decrease, suffocating wildlife. The sea also absorbs carbon dioxide, acidifying the water, which breaks down essential minerals that organisms need to grow their shells and skeletons.
“It is our responsibility to protect the ocean and to give back to it and to keep it healthy and keep it clean,” said Bautista, to provide “the people of the water — so all of the animals and plants that live under the water … a space where they can thrive.”
Cal Poly and UC Santa Barbara will help study the ecosystem, checking in on its vital signs and getting to know it better. Chumash groups will also monitor the area and provide NOAA with advice on how to best care for it.
The agency can then use its might, vested by the National Marine Sanctuaries Act, to put regulations into action.
They’ll all work to create educational programs to engage the public. The Santa Inez Band of Chumash Indians is even opening their own museum as early as the end of the year, in which they hope to eventually incorporate lessons from the sanctuary.
“It is a bit of an experiment,” Michel said. “It will adapt and grow and evolve over time through collaborative co-stewardship.”
