Nuclear power has, largely as a result of the Chernobyl disaster, become an energy bogeyman.
The 1986 catastrophe, which spewed radiation throughout continental Europe and resulted in a large exclusion zone that to this day remains void of any humans, struck fear into the hearts of people around the world that continues to reverberate.
The plug was even pulled in December 2011 on a proposed nuclear project in northern Alberta. Unfortunately, the near-meltdown at Fukushima mere months later in March 2011, an incident that frankly pales in comparison to Chernobyl, didn’t help to alleviate the public’s concerns.
Hardly anyone, regardless of political affiliation, seems willing to consider nuclear power as a viable energy alternative to help the critical transition away from fossil fuels, a process that will easily take decades even in a best-case scenario.
After recently watching the HBO five-episode miniseries Chernobyl, which offered some fascinating historical insight on the largest nuclear plant disaster in human history, I was ironically convinced more than ever that nuclear power must be included in our efforts to reduce carbon emissions.
I still firmly believe more must be done to improve and expand green tech sectors such as solar, wind and geothermal. But let’s face the irrefutable fact — all of those options combined are woefully inadequate in providing the massive energy supply required in a market where demand is not expected to abate any time soon.
Some critics said the HBO miniseries depicts Russians as incompetent drunks, but that is far from the impression I got. The argument certainly can be made the former Soviet regime’s obsession with state secrets and maintaining face was largely to blame. However, individual Russians such as scientist Valery Legasov, and all of those who sacrificed to prevent the disaster from becoming unimaginably worse, stand out as inspirational examples of the finest humanity has to offer.
During a trial, Legasov commented on the beauty of atomic particles generating enough energy to power entire cities without needing to burn fuels and spew smoke, a process that is safe — provided, of course, proper protocols are not only in place but actually strictly followed.
Chernobyl was not the first time the expert advice of scientists was deliberately ignored by bureaucrats, with catastrophic results.
The late former NASA engineer Bob Ebeling, who was one of five booster rocket technicians working on the Challenger mission, tried to raise the alarm about a fatal design flaw that he warned would cause a critical failure — not if, but when. Perhaps all too predictably, Ebeling — just like Legasov — was ignored by pencil-pushing, title craving bureaucrats, and, well, we all know how that played out as the cameras rolled live.
What resulted in completely preventable catastrophes — substantially setting back both nuclear and space exploration — was not so much because of a failure in technology, but rather the pursuit of power and saving face.
I can barely begin to imagine the frustration felt by intellectuals whose words of caution went unheeded by those more interested in prestige and power than protecting their own people.
Legasov later committed suicide after recording audiotapes about the ordeal to bring attention to what happened in the hopes of preventing similarly avoidable catastrophes in the future. Ebeling reportedly was consumed by guilt for decades, despite the fact that those directly responsible for the shuttle disaster were administrators.
There should be a painfully clear moral behind these tragedies: scientists — not power-hungry politicians and company men — should play a greater role in developing important policy decisions that impact us all.
