“Nuclear power? To most people, it’s witchcraft” (Chris Patten)
To describe nuclear power as clean might seem perverse, given that some of the waste produced is so dangerous that there is no containment material that won’t be destroyed by it, and that it remains dangerous for hundreds of thousands of years.
But last week the government finally said yes to the construction of up to ten nuclear power stations, at least some of which might be up-and-running by 2020. They’ve put off the decision for a long time. New Labour, motivated for so long by the desire to be liked, refused to face the impending energy crisis. Now that the closure of many of our existing nuclear power stations is fast approaching (several over the next twenty years), and now that they have the fortifying experience of not being liked, they’ve bitten the bullet.
Generally, my main concern is for progress, for economic development, which I believe is the basis for a society of free and equal people, living fulfilling lives. A wealthy, technologically advanced country like Britain needs base load power stations, ones that provide a constant flow of power. It looks like renewables cannot provide much of this, so the answer must be coal, oil and nuclear. Given the need to reduce CO2 emissions, this means we need to go for nuclear or clean coal – or both. From this perspective, nuclear power is very important, because clean coal is still in its infancy.
Nuclear can be considered clean because it does not pollute the environment. Although the high-level waste is extremely dangerous, in practise it doesn’t actually harm people or the environment, if stored correctly. And there isn’t much of it. Ten new nuclear power stations with a lifetime of sixty years would produce 40,900 cubic metres of this waste, which is half the volume of the Albert Hall. (1) The projects for the waste’s short-term and long-term containment look good: Managing our Radioactive waste Safely (Committee on Radioactive Waste Management, PDF)
Nuclear is now one of the safest, cleanest ways we have of producing energy, but it got a bad name for itself in the eighties and nineties. This is partly owing to scientific ignorance and a mis-perception of risk, but the nastiness of the nuclear industry couldn’t have helped either. “The nuclear industry, for most of its life, has been, to put it at its mildest, economical with the truth” (2)
While I’m broadly supportive of the new plans, I can sympathise with those who aren’t and who know how despicable the industry has been in the past. It’s been run by a secretive cabal of shamans and priests, jealously guarding their power against outsiders. I don’t know how much it has changed, but can we afford to hold things up while they get their act together? We certainly need a completely open, honest and unapologetic nuclear industry, not one that will reinforce the perception of witchcraft. But we also need to get started on the new stations now.
My fondest childhood memories are of living in the little village of Fairlie, a mile or two south of Largs, on the North Ayrhsire coast. In this part of Ayrshire the towns cling to a narrow stretch of land between the sea and a big lump of uninhabitable high moorland, now called Clyde Muirshiel Regional Park, extending from Greenock in the north to West Kilbride in the south, and inland to Lochwinnoch and Kilmacolm. And with Cumbrae, Arran and Bute enclosing the Firth of Clyde, this stretch of coastline has a sheltered, cosy feel to it. It’s dramatic and picturesque, but not overwhelming (I’ve only just realized that I have this knowledge, or appreciation, after having been away for a long time.)
Hunterston nuclear power station faces across the bay, from underneath the cliffs at Portencross, to Fairlie and Cumbrae, and it was part of my childhood world, along with the huge ore terminal. The memory of seeing Hunterston “A” – the old Magnox reactor, now being decommissioned – illuminated at night, is strong. I visited it once (although it was probably Hunterston “B”, the newer but less attractive station just next-door), as part of my physics class, and I was struck by how empty it was. Self-centred cynical adolescents we may have been, but even we were awed by the caverns of concrete and steel, and the cathedral-like proportions, and just the thought of that massive hidden power was enough to convince us that we could feel it under our feet and buzzing in the air.
A few dozen metres out to sea are the intake and outlet stations for the cooling system. I remember being struck by the sight of the big bubbling patch where the warmed water was returned to the sea. You can see both the intake and outlet very clearly on the satellite image. The white blob is the latter.
Now that I’m in Edinburgh, my local nuclear power station is Torness, on the coast of East Lothian. You get a good view of it from the East Coast Main Line railway. A couple of years ago, one of its walls became a projector screen for Europe’s biggest art installation, Lumin de Lumine by Ken McMullen. See a picture of it here on this particle physics website.
(1) The Future of Nuclear Power, DTI, May 2007
(2) Reporting the Nuclear Industry: Sorcery versus Common Sense, The Uranium Institute
Government go-ahead:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/7179579.stm