In November 2019, the late Grand Chief Joseph Tokwiro Norton sent New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio a letter: the Champlain Hudson Power Express—a 339-mile-long mostly subaqueous transmission line that would deliver 1,250 megawatts of Canadian hydropower to Manhattan—crossed stolen Mohawk land. If his First Nations Reserve, Kahnawà:ke, wasn’t included as a partner, they would block it, and New York wouldn’t be able to buy the project’s power.
Nearly a decade later, Norton’s demand has been realized. This May, when the Champlain Hudson Power Express comes online, the Mohawk Council of Kahnawà:ke will co-own up to 49% of the Canadian segment. It’s a significant deal: the line will deliver up to 20% of New York City’s power and offer Kahnawà:ke unprecedented equity in a major American clean energy infrastructure project.
“What Kahnawà:ke negotiated is a landmark and it should be a wake-up call,” says Chéri Smith, president of the Alliance for Tribal Clean Energy. That’s because on the U.S. side, Haudenosaunee nations whose territory the transmission line also crosses were offered nothing by TDI, the Blackstone-backed developer responsible for the U.S. segment. “The absence of comparable arrangements on the U.S. side of this project,” Smith says, “reflects a pattern we need to break.”
The Hertel substation, Hydro-Québec’s energy hub being expanded for this line, sits on territory subject to an Indian land claim Canada has acknowledged: 17,000 acres taken by Jesuit priests centuries ago. When asked why Hydro-Québec included the Mohawks, then CEO Sophie Brochu replied, “Because we’re going through their house,” says former Grand Chief Kahsennenhawe Sky-Deer who served from 2021 to 2024. After Norton passed in 2020, Sky-Deer took up the mantle, securing equity at a minimum of 10%, potentially reaching 49%, a decision the community will make in the coming weeks.
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It’s a deal that Native nations south of the border can learn from. In Canada, the Kahnawà:ke arrangement is one of at least 175 major energy projects with some form of Indigenous ownership, according to an April 2025 report by Fasken, a leading Canadian business law firm. It’s a number that has rapidly grown since 2020, driven by Canadian federal loan guarantees, provincial policy, and First Nations asserting their rights over their territory. “I think we’ve proven now that this is the way to go,” Sky-Deer says. “You could get better support and better buy-in if they are included and there’s an actual definitive and real benefit.”
Kahnawà:ke falls just short of the 50/50 model now standard at Hydro One in Ontario. But the agreement is unprecedented for Hydro-Québec: a company with a troubled history among First Nations. For over 50 years, it has faced accusations of unauthorized construction on unceded territory, from the 1975 James Bay Project to a 2020 lawsuit by the Innu Nation over 6,500 acres flooded by Churchill Falls.
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The ownership stake matters, but so do the terms. “At the end of the day, if someone says ‘I’ve got 50% interest’—50% interest can mean almost nothing if the terms aren’t there,” says Chris Henderson, founding director of Indigenous Clean Energy. Equity deals are structured like waterfalls: returns flow through layers of debt service, maintenance, and management fees before reaching the community. A high percentage can be hollow if the Indigenous partner is last in line. A Hydro-Québec official says Kahnwawà:ke returns will be regulated the same as the utility’s own—a more predictable structure than many Indigenous energy deals. But the final ownership stake isn’t settled. “We have an option right now whether to stay at 10% or go up to 49%,” says Grand Chief Cody Diabo, who took office in July 2024. In part, the percentage the community decides on is a moral question about participating in an extractive energy project, along with questions around cost and potential longer-term profits.
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The deal wasn’t a guarantee. Sky-Deer says Hydro-Québec initially resisted because the company had never done anything like it. A Hydro-Québec official confirmed the provincial law required sole ownership of transmission infrastructure. To solve that problem, in 2023 Quebec’s legislature passed a new law to allow a First Nation to co-own infrastructure with a Crown Corporation. “The mayor [of New York] at the time, Bill de Blasio, said, ‘if it wasn’t for the Mohawks, Hydro-Québec would not have gotten this project,’” Sky-Deer says.
There is a long history of the region’s Indigenous peoples helping build vital infrastructure. Mohawk steelworkers built Manhattan’s skyline, a history the city knows, even if it rarely acknowledges. Between 1920 and 1970, so many lived in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, that the neighborhood was called “Little Caughnawaga.” “I think it would be really awesome if they would take one of their major infrastructure buildings or something that we’ve been part of, and name it in recognition of Mohawk people,” Sky-Deer says. “We’ve contributed so much to that city.”
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But today, New York state’s history of hostility toward local tribes gives little hope for a different approach. TDI did not respond to requests for comment on whether they had any meaningful Tribal consultation. The silence may reflect a legal landscape that has narrowed Indigenous claims in New York for decades. In 2005, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in City of Sherrill v. Oneida Indian Nation that the Oneida could not reclaim sovereignty over ancestral lands, even lands they had repurchased, because too much time had passed.
The late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, writing for the majority, invoked the doctrine of laches, finding that the “longstanding, distinctly non-Indian character” of the area defeated the claim. That precedent has been used to foreclose Haudenosaunee land rights across the state. Unlike Kahnawà:ke, whose grievance the Canadian government acknowledged, Native nations stateside have no equivalent legal foothold, making voluntary consultation the only path. A Hydro-Québec official confirmed the company deferred to TDI on U.S.-side Indigenous relations: “The promoter on the U.S. side had his responsibility.” TDI did not respond to requests for comment.
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New York Governor Kathy Hochul’s administration has touted the new transmission line as a win for clean energy. When asked about the governor’s stance on fostering tribal partnerships for energy projects and whether the Haudenosaunee were consulted in this instance, the governor’s office said it “does not get involved directly in the environmental permitting review done by individual agencies.” They added, however, that “Governor Hochul has prioritized development of improved government-to-government relations with the Indigenous Nations in New York, including in matters that affect Tribal lands and interests.” This includes requiring stronger consultations with Indigenous Nations regarding the siting of major transmission lines under the 2024 Renewable Action through Project Interconnection and Deployment Act. The Champlain Hudson Power Express, however, received final permitting in 2020.
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“Some private developers are not knowledgeable about how to do business with Tribes and unwilling to learn,” says Kyle Whyte, professor of Environment and Sustainability at the University of Michigan. “I would hope the state of New York would also include my brother and sister communities,” Diabo says. “There should be inclusion.”
For now, the power will flow. But only one side of the border will share in its ownership.