The Equity Problem Restated
The default trajectory of energy banking risks replicating historical patterns of exclusion. Home batteries cost $10,000-$15,000 installed. Rooftop solar requires suitable housing stock and secure tenure. V2G demands a new EV – $50,000+ for models with bidirectional capability – plus specialized chargers. These are not accessible entry points for communities that have been systematically underserved by existing energy infrastructure.
But here’s what makes the First Nations context different, and potentially transformative: the very communities most excluded from the old centralized grid model may be best positioned to leapfrog into the new distributed one – if the infrastructure reaches them on appropriate terms.
The Legacy Grid’s Failure
For many First Nations communities, the traditional electrical grid has been a story of exclusion, dependence, and extraction.
Remote communities remain unserved or underserved. Across Canada, as many as 292 remote communities – predominantly (190, a population of about 200,000 people) Indigenous – rely on diesel generation (approx. 70%), isolated from provincial grids by geography and economics. Fuel is expensive, supply chains are fragile (particularly as climate change disrupts ice roads), and the environmental and health costs are borne locally. These communities have never had reliable access to the “cash economy” of electricity, let alone its banking system. They’ve been operating in energy poverty while often located amid abundant renewable resources.
In Ontario alone, 25 First Nations communities depend on diesel, burning approximately 80 million litres annually at costs that can exceed $1.00/kWh – five to ten times what urban Ontarians pay. The federal government spends hundreds of millions annually subsidizing this diesel dependence, money that flows to fuel suppliers rather than building community assets.
Grid-connected communities face affordability crises. Even where transmission reaches First Nations communities, electricity costs are often disproportionately high. Time-of-use pricing hits hardest in communities with older housing stock and limited ability to shift consumption. Arrears and disconnections create cycles of energy poverty. The centralized model extracts payment but delivers little agency.
Energy decisions have been made elsewhere. A centralized governance model is embedded in the traditional grid: utilities and regulators in distant capitals decide what gets built, where, and at what price. Communities are recipients, not participants. This mirrors broader patterns of colonial governance that First Nations communities have been resisting and restructuring for generations. Energy sovereignty – the right to control one’s own energy systems – has emerged as a key dimension of broader self-determination efforts.
Why Distributed Storage Changes the Equation
Battery storage and distributed generation don’t just offer cleaner energy – they offer a fundamentally different ownership and governance model. For First Nations communities, this matters as much as the electrons.
Energy sovereignty becomes achievable. A community with its own solar generation and battery storage isn’t dependent on distant utilities or fragile transmission lines. It can island itself during emergencies. It can make its own decisions about how energy is generated, stored, and used. The infrastructure serves the community rather than extracting from the community.
This isn’t hypothetical. The T’Sou-ke Nation in British Columbia achieved near-complete energy self-sufficiency through solar installations and comprehensive efficiency measures, becoming a model for Indigenous clean energy leadership. Numerous remote First Nations across Ontario and the territories have begun transitioning from diesel to solar-plus-storage microgrids. The Gull Bay First Nation’s microgrid project demonstrated that solar and battery storage could displace over 100,000 litres of diesel annually while improving reliability. These projects demonstrate that energy sovereignty is technically feasible – the question is scaling access.
The economics can work differently. In the conventional model, remote communities face punishing economics: long transmission lines serving small populations mean high per-capita costs. Hydro One estimated that grid extension to some remote Ontario First Nations would cost $500,000 to $1 million per household served – economically absurd.
But distributed generation inverts this logic. Solar resources are often abundant in remote areas (long summer days, minimal shading). Battery costs have fallen 90% since 2010 and continue declining. The “last mile” problem that makes grid extension prohibitive becomes irrelevant when generation and storage are local. For diesel-dependent communities, the avoided fuel costs alone can justify battery and solar investments within years, not decades.
For Plunk EV with our focus on battery energy storage and EV charging, First Nations communities represent not charity cases but genuine partnership opportunities – if financing models are structured appropriately.
Community ownership aligns with Indigenous governance. The emerging energy banking infrastructure – aggregation, pooling, collective resources – maps surprisingly well onto Indigenous traditions of collective stewardship. A virtual power plant that aggregates community batteries into a shared resource isn’t foreign to cultures with deep traditions of collective land management and shared governance.
This contrasts sharply with the individualistic model of suburban rooftop solar, where benefits accrue to individual homeowners. First Nations deployment can be structured around community ownership from the start – community batteries serving multiple households, collectively owned generation, shared benefits from grid services and carbon credits.
A Different Approach to Deployment
A company serious about serving First Nations communities can’t simply transplant urban business models. Several dimensions require rethinking:
Financing must recognize different capital structures. Individual home loans for battery installations assume individual home ownership, credit histories, and income documentation that may not apply on reserve lands or in communities with different tenure arrangements. The Indian Act’s restrictions on using reserve land as collateral create financing barriers that don’t exist elsewhere. Community-scale financing, band council partnerships, or innovative lease-to-own structures may be more appropriate than conventional consumer lending.
The value proposition extends beyond bill savings. For a suburban homeowner, battery economics are primarily about arbitrage and backup power. For a remote First Nations community currently paying $0.50-$1.00/kWh for diesel-generated electricity, the calculus is entirely different. Displacement of diesel can deliver:
- Immediate and substantial cost savings (often 50-70% reduction)
- Elimination of fuel supply chain vulnerability (critical as winter roads become less reliable)
- Reduction in local air pollution, noise, and health impacts from diesel generation
- Freed-up capital currently spent on fuel purchase and transport
- Potential revenue from carbon credits, clean energy certificates, or federal carbon pricing rebates
- Reduced federal subsidy dependence, with savings potentially redirected to community priorities
For grid-connected First Nations facing high rates and unreliable service, storage provides:
- Bill management and peak shaving
- Resilience during outages (which disproportionately affect long rural distribution lines)
- Foundation for future microgrid capability and reduced grid dependence
- Potential participation in demand response programs or virtual power plants
EV charging opens additional opportunities. Transportation costs in remote and rural First Nations communities are substantial – long distances, poor roads, no public transit, and fuel prices often 30-50% higher than urban centres. Vehicle electrification offers significant savings, but only if charging infrastructure exists.
A company deploying residential batteries alongside EV charging creates an integrated value proposition:
- Solar generation during the day
- Battery storage for evening household use
- EV charging overnight from stored solar or off-peak grid power
- Potential V2G capability for additional resilience and revenue
For communities where vehicles are essential for accessing services, employment, and traditional territories, this integration matters enormously. An electric vehicle charged by community solar represents genuine transportation cost savings – potentially thousands of dollars annually per household.
Capacity building must accompany hardware. Sustainable deployment requires local technical capacity for maintenance and troubleshooting. This means training programs, apprenticeships, and ongoing support relationships – not just installation and departure. The goal should be communities that can manage their own energy systems, not permanent dependence on external service providers.
Some of the most successful Indigenous renewable projects – like Lumos Energy’s work with remote communities or Indigenous-led initiatives through organizations like Indigenous Clean Energy – have emphasized local employment and skills development as core outcomes, not afterthoughts. At Plunk EV, we build these elements into our delivery model from the start.
The Governance Opportunity
Here’s where the energy banking analogy becomes most powerful for First Nations communities: the transition isn’t just about technology – it’s about who controls the financial infrastructure.
Community aggregation as self-determination. If virtual power plants are the mutual funds of energy, who manages the fund matters. A First Nations community that aggregates its distributed batteries into a community-controlled VPP retains decision-making authority. It can choose when to participate in grid services, negotiate its own terms with utilities or market operators, and direct revenues to community priorities.
This is meaningfully different from individual households signing up with external aggregators who capture most of the value. A community-owned aggregation entity – potentially structured as a First Nations energy corporation or cooperative – keeps governance and economics aligned with community interests.
Local energy markets as community economies. Peer-to-peer trading platforms could enable energy exchange within communities – and potentially between neighbouring First Nations – on terms they set themselves. The Schoonschip model (Amsterdam’s floating neighborhood trading energy internally) could translate to reserve communities or Indigenous housing clusters.
Imagine a First Nations community where the band office’s solar array charges a community battery during the day, households draw from it in the evening, and the community hall’s larger installation provides backup during outages – all coordinated through a community-controlled platform. This isn’t speculative; it’s technically feasible today and represents genuine energy sovereignty in action.
Regulatory engagement from a position of strength. As provinces and the federal government develop frameworks for distributed energy, First Nations voices in those processes matter. The Indigenous right to free, prior, and informed consent applies to energy infrastructure as much as resource extraction. Communities with operational storage and generation – with demonstrated technical capability and clear governance structures – can engage regulators as knowledgeable stakeholders, not supplicants.
Risks and Cautions
This opportunity is real, but so are the risks of getting it wrong:
Avoiding extractive models. The history of resource development in Indigenous communities includes abundant examples of outside companies capturing value while leaving communities with minimal benefit and substantial burden. Energy storage deployment must be structured to avoid this pattern. Community equity stakes, revenue sharing, local employment commitments, and genuine partnership governance aren’t optional add-ons – they’re prerequisites for ethical engagement.
A company that installs batteries, signs long-term service contracts that extract ongoing fees, and leaves communities dependent on external expertise is replicating the utility model’s worst features. A company that builds community ownership, transfers capability, and shares upside is building something different.
Respecting self-determination. Communities must lead. External companies can offer technology, financing, and expertise, but decisions about whether, how, and on what terms to proceed belong to the communities themselves. This requires patience, relationship-building, and willingness to walk away if alignment isn’t possible.
The duty to consult isn’t a box to check; it’s a framework for genuine partnership. Companies accustomed to rapid sales cycles will need to adjust expectations.
Ensuring appropriate technology. Not every community needs the same solution. Grid-connected southern Ontario First Nations have different needs than remote fly-in communities in the Far North. Harsh northern climates impose different technical requirements – battery chemistry, thermal management, equipment ratings – than temperate regions. Housing stock varies enormously. One-size-fits-all deployment will fail.
Managing expectations. Battery storage and solar are powerful tools, but they’re not magic. They won’t solve housing shortages, water crises, or systemic underfunding of Indigenous services. Companies should be honest about what energy infrastructure can and cannot deliver – and avoid overpromising in pursuit of contracts or grant funding.
The Larger Frame: Energy Banking as Reconciliation Infrastructure
Viewed through the equity lens, the emergence of energy banking offers something potentially profound: a chance to build new infrastructure that serves communities the old infrastructure excluded.
The centralized grid was built to serve industrial and urban centres. Its extension to remote and Indigenous communities was often an afterthought – incomplete, expensive, and structured to extract rather than empower. The new distributed infrastructure doesn’t have to follow that pattern.
A company focused on residential battery storage and EV charging for First Nations communities isn’t just selling hardware. It’s potentially:
- Building resilience in communities vulnerable to climate impacts and grid failures
- Enabling sovereignty by giving communities control over essential infrastructure
- Creating economic opportunity through energy cost savings, local employment, and participation in energy markets
- Demonstrating partnership models that could inform broader reconciliation efforts across sectors
This is the promise of energy banking done right: not just a technological upgrade, but a structural shift toward more equitable participation in the energy economy.
The barter-to-banking transition in electricity doesn’t have to replicate the exclusions of financial banking’s history. First Nations communities can be participants in building the new system, not latecomers scrambling for access after the rules have been set. But that outcome requires intentionality – from companies, from governments, and from communities themselves.The infrastructure is being built now. The question is whether it will be built with First Nations communities or merely around them.
