Drilling has begun at Pe' Sla, a sacred site in South Dakota, following the U.S. Forest Service's decision to permit exploratory sites — despite the land falling under federal protection. Authorizing mining activity in this sacred place is a direct attack on protected Indigenous lands and the fundamental right to religious freedom. It also threatens ecosystems and waterways, and could cause permanent environmental degradation.
At least two drill pads are now operating on tribal lands within the 2-mile (3.2 kilometers) buffer zone promised to be protected by the Forest Service and tribes. This should ring alarm bells everywhere, because it means that even lands protected by the U.S. government are not safe from the threat of destruction.
This project began in February when the Forest Service quietly issued a permit allowing exploratory drilling for graphite at Pe' Sla — a place in the He Sapa (Black Hills) of South Dakota that holds profound spiritual, cultural and ecological significance for the Oceti Sakowin (often called Great Sioux Nation).
What prevents similar decisions at other sacred sites, in other fragile ecosystems, in communities whose voices are too often dismissed?
The Forest Service claims the contaminants and runoff from the drill operation will be contained using lined, impermeable pits and potable water brought in from the municipal supply. However, many similar operations have led to contamination even with such measures in place. Contamination at Pe' Sla would likely ripple outward, affecting drinking water, agriculture and ecosystems across the region.
The health impacts of water contaminated by mining are severe, causing cancer, developmental and neurological damage, kidney failure, gastrointestinal illnesses, and skin lesions through the release of heavy metals, toxic runoff and acid mine drainage.
The threat is also cultural and constitutional. Pe' Sla has been used for ceremony for over 2,000 years. In 2016, Pe' Sla was granted federal trust status, giving local tribes permanent stewardship over the land for religious use. And in 2024, the Forest Service itself acknowledged Pe' Sla's religious and cultural importance in a memorandum of understanding — a formal agreement — with tribal nations, even establishing a 2 mile protective buffer zone around the tribal land.
Now, within the buffer zone, drilling is being authorized under a "categorical exclusion," a form of NEPA compliance for projects deemed not having a "significant effect on the human environment." In other words, this project gets to skip the environmental assessment and/or environmental impact statement that would normally be required for a drilling project.
As outlined in the lawsuit against the Forest Service, the project's scale and its impact on Indigenous religious practices should disqualify it from such an exemption. Moving forward without environmental review is a violation of both federal law and the government's own commitments.
If drilling can be permitted here, on land acknowledged by the government as sacred, within a sensitive watershed, and with limited economic benefit, then what protections truly remain elsewhere? What prevents similar decisions at other sacred sites, in other fragile ecosystems, in communities whose voices are too often dismissed?
Supporters of the project may argue that it brings jobs and economic opportunity. But even that claim quickly falls short. Graphite is used for lithium batteries, car parts and electronics. But the graphite deposits in question are reportedly small and low-grade, making it unlikely to be profitable to mine them. This project, which is estimated to last a year according to the Black Hills Clean Water Alliance, is a short-sighted venture that would cause permanent damage. Once the drilling ends, whatever few jobs are associated with the project would disappear. The environmental and cultural harm, however, would remain.
This is a familiar pattern of extractive industry: short-term gain for a few, lasting harm for many. Just look at the Gold King Mine in Colorado, where nearly 100 years after operations shut down, 3 million gallons (11 million liters) of contaminated water from the site leaked into a nearby creek. This spill impacted rivers in three states and the Navajo Nation, countless farms, and cost tens of millions of dollars to fix. In the case of Pe' Sla, the costs are especially high — measured not only in environmental degradation but in the continued erosion of Indigenous sovereignty and rights.
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From the beginning of this fight over a year ago, community members and advocates responded by mobilizing thousands of public comments, gathering petition signatures, offering testimony at town halls and hearings, and raising awareness through social media and the LANDBACK For the People podcast. The fight for Pe' Sla is a growing movement of people who recognize that what happens in the Black Hills has ripple effects across Turtle Island (the U.S.. Mexico and Canada).
It's not too late for people across the country to take action to protect Pe' Sla by calling the Mystic Ranger District Office to express their opposition to the drilling project, and by signing the petition to rescind the permit.
We will defend Pe' Sla in the courts. But as the original people of this land, our sovereignty is inherent here. The U.S. has a legal obligation under Article VI of the Constitution, which states that "treaties are the supreme law of land," and thus the terms of the 1868 Ft. Laramie Treaty, which recognizes the Black Hills as Lakota lands. This project does not have the consent of the Great Sioux Nation.
Right now, there is still time to act — to raise objections, to demand accountability, to insist that Pe' Sla be protected. Because in the end, this is not just about one sacred site in South Dakota. It is about all of us and our collective responsibility to protect our shared planet.
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