The Apology and the Axe: Newsom's Vetoes Undermine Tribal Liberty and Democracy

The Core Facts and Contradiction

In a stunning sequence of actions that lays bare the chasm between symbolic gestures and substantive policy, California Governor Gavin Newsom, on September 25, 2024, signed Assembly Bill 2115 into law, formalizing a state apology for “harms and atrocities” committed against California’s Native peoples. A mere five days later, on September 30—a day he had declared a “Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools”—Governor Newsom vetoed two landmark bills ardently championed by California tribes. These vetoes directly rejected measures designed to give tribal governments a meaningful voice in critical areas of state governance: water resource management and the protection of sacred Indigenous religious sites on state land.

The first vetoed bill, Assembly Bill 2218, authored by Assemblymember Ash Kalra (D-Santa Clara) and co-sponsored by the Karuk Tribe and the Shingle Springs Band of Miwok Indians, sought to address profound water inequities. It would have established a state policy to tackle tribal water shortages and mandated a mediation process, overseen by the Governor’s own Office of Tribal Affairs, for disputes between tribes and state water agencies over projects in ancestral territories. The second, Assembly Bill 1881, the “California Indian Freedom Act of 2026,” was authored by Assemblymember James Ramos (D-San Bernardino), the legislature’s only Native American member and a member of the Serrano/Cahuilla tribe. This bill would have barred state agencies from significantly interfering with tribal religious practices on state land without demonstrating a compelling state interest and employing the least restrictive means. It also required agencies to seek written tribal consent before altering known sacred sites.

Both bills passed the Assembly without a single “no” vote, though significant numbers of members, many Republican, abstained. The veto messages from Governor Newsom cited concerns over implementation clarity and potential “far-reaching impacts” on state operations, arguing they introduced “uncertainty.” These decisions were applauded by the California Chamber of Commerce, which argued the bills created “serious legal barriers” to infrastructure, but were met with searing criticism from tribal leaders who labeled them a “backhanded betrayal.”

The Context: A History of Broken Promises

To understand the depth of this betrayal, one must contextualize it within California’s long and tragic history with its Indigenous peoples. The state was home to 13 federal Indian boarding schools that operated from 1892 to 1974, institutions designed for cultural erasure through the forced removal of Native children from their families. Governor Newsom himself, in June 2019, signed an executive order apologizing for state-sanctioned “violence, discrimination and exploitation.” He created a Truth and Healing Council, a body meant to guide reconciliation. Furthermore, his administration has taken positive steps, such as making Native American Day a paid holiday, making the Governor’s Office of Tribal Affairs permanent, and facilitating the return of over 100,000 acres to tribes.

Yet, this history and these positive steps make the recent vetoes all the more perplexing and painful. They represent a critical failure to convert the rhetoric of reconciliation into the law of the land. As noted in the article, landmark U.S. Supreme Court cases like Lyng v. Northwest Indian Cemetery Protective Association have consistently allowed federal projects to proceed on sacred lands, severely undermining tribal religious freedom claims under federal law. California’s existing statutes offer limited protection, but tribes report that state agencies routinely fail to prevent damage. The vetoed bills were direct attempts to build stronger, more equitable legal frameworks within state jurisdiction—attempts that have now been rejected.

Opinion: A Betrayal of Democratic and Liberal Principles

The contradiction embodied in Governor Newsom’s actions is not merely a political misstep; it is a fundamental failure of democratic governance and a betrayal of the liberal principles of liberty, justice, and the consent of the governed. A democracy is not defined solely by elections, but by its commitment to protecting the rights of minorities against the tyranny of the majority or the inertia of bureaucracy. The United States was founded on the principle that government derives its just powers from the consent of the governed. For California’s tribes, whose ancestral lands constitute the state itself, being systematically excluded from decisions about their water and their sacred sites is a denial of that very consent.

Governor Newsom’s apology, however well-intentioned, rings hollow when followed by a refusal to share power. As Vice Chair Malissa Tayaba of the Shingle Springs Band of Miwok Indians starkly put it: “His apology, what does it really mean?… Man, did he really hurt us on his way out.” An apology without restorative action is an empty performance. It becomes a tool of political expediency rather than a cornerstone of justice. The Governor’s declaration of a Day of Remembrance on the same day he vetoed empowerment legislation is, as Tayaba noted, bitterly “ironic.” It suggests a compartmentalization of history—something to be mourned in the abstract but not rectified in the concrete realities of law and resource allocation.

The arguments against the bills, primarily from business interests like the California Chamber of Commerce and water agencies, centered on “uncertainty” and potential delays for water projects. This is a familiar refrain in debates about environmental and Indigenous rights: the claim that justice and due process are inconvenient to economic progress. But a democracy worthy of the name must be willing to bear that uncertainty. The mediation process in AB 2218 was specifically designed to be non-binding and flexible; a tribe could withdraw if it felt the state was not acting in good faith. This was a model of cooperative dispute resolution, not a veto over development. To reject it as too burdensome is to say that the absolute, unfettered discretion of state agencies is more valuable than a fair partnership with the original stewards of the land.

Similarly, the sacred sites bill (AB 1881) was a measured response to a genuine crisis of religious liberty. Native American religions are, as the bill’s findings stated, “land-based.” Their practice is inextricably linked to specific geographic locations. To destroy a sacred site is to destroy a church, a synagogue, or a mosque. The bill did not grant tribes a veto over state land management; it simply raised the bar, requiring the state to show a compelling interest and use the least restrictive means before interfering—a standard that echoes the highest levels of scrutiny in our constitutional jurisprudence. Governor Newsom’s claim of sympathy for its goals, coupled with a veto over implementation concerns, is a classic bureaucratic dodge. When fundamental freedoms are at stake, the state’s obligation is to work with tribes to craft implementable solutions, not to retreat into the safety of the status quo.

The Path Forward: Real Reconciliation Requires Shared Power

Governor Newsom, ineligible for re-election, now has a legacy-defining choice. Will he be remembered as the governor who apologized beautifully but governed cautiously, or as the one who took bold steps to institutionalize justice? The tribal leaders, including Tayaba and Karuk Tribe Chairman Russell “Buster” Attebery, have vowed to continue their fight for consultation and co-stewardship. The responsibility now also falls on the California Legislature. They passed these bills with strong support; they must now consider whether to attempt an override or to reintroduce and refine this critical legislation in the next session.

True reconciliation is not a passive event but an active process of restructuring power dynamics. It means moving beyond consultation—which often occurs after key decisions are made—to co-management and co-stewardship. It means recognizing that tribal sovereignty is not a threat to the state, but a source of resilience, deep ecological knowledge, and moral authority. The water crises and environmental challenges California faces cannot be solved by excluding the communities with the longest historical memory and deepest connection to the land.

As a firm believer in the U.S. Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the foundational idea that all are entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, I view these vetoes as a profound disappointment. They undermine the rule of law by favoring bureaucratic certainty over equitable process. They damage our institutions by revealing a gap between their professed values and their operational priorities. And most tragically, they inflict fresh wounds on communities that have already endured centuries of harm.

Liberty must be lived, not just lamented. Democracy must be deepened, not just declared. The fight for tribal rights in California is a microcosm of the larger American struggle to live up to our own ideals. Governor Newsom had a historic opportunity to align California’s laws with its apologies. He chose, instead, to wield the veto pen, leaving in its stroke a painful reminder that for Indigenous peoples, the path to justice remains obstructed by the very government that seeks to apologize for building the obstacles in the first place. The work of building a more perfect union—one that includes and empowers all its peoples—remains urgently unfinished.