A Tale of Two Nuclear Plants Reveals Europe's Energy Divide

A FOREST OF wind turbines rises out of the fields on both sides of the highway running east out of Vienna. But at the border with Slovakia, which stretches between Austria and Ukraine, they stop. Slovakia gets only 0.4 percent of its energy from wind and solar. Instead it is betting its energy transition on nuclear power. At the center of Slovakia's nuclear strategy is the Mochovce power plant, an orange and red building flanked by eight giant cooling chimneys. There used to be a village here, before the Soviet Union relocated it to make space for the power plant in the 1980s. All that remains is a small boarded-up church. Cars slide in and out of the guarded security gate, and the cooling chimneys belch a stream of water vapor out into the sky. Inside, workers are preparing a new reactor—where nuclear fission will take place—for launch in early 2023. The 471-megawatt unit, which spent years mired in controversy, is expected to cover 13 percent of the country’s electricity needs, making Slovakia self-sufficient, according to Branislav Strýček, CEO of Slovenské Elektrárne, the company that runs the plant. Slovakia is expected to reach that milestone as its European neighbors scramble for energy supplies after cutting ties with Russia, a major exporter of natural gas. Without Russian gas, Europe has been racing to avoid blackouts. Every day, Paris is turning off the Eiffel Tower’s lights an hour early, Cologne has dimmed its street lights, and Switzerland is considering a ban on electric cars. Nuclear power advocates, like Strýček, are using this moment to argue that Europe needs nuclear technology to keep the lights on without jeopardizing net-zero targets. “It provides an immense amount of secure, predictable, stable baseload, which renewables are not able to provide,” he said at the World Utilities Congress in June.

“Slovakia is a very pro-nuclear country, especially the people who live around nuclear power stations,” says Martin Venhart, vice president of the Slovak Academy of Sciences. “The main reason is typically these power stations employ a lot of people. Nearly everyone knows someone or has a close relative that works in the power station.” Slovenské Elektrárne claims the plant has created 15,000 jobs.

Instead, fierce opposition to Mochovce originates outside the country. “Of course we respect national sovereignty,” says Austria’s energy minister, Leonore Gewessler. “But with nuclear in our neighborhood, we feel obliged to voice our concerns.” Asked if she believes Mochovce is safe, she reiterates: “We have strong concerns.” Slovak nuclear scientists have described Austria’s allegations as “nonsense.” “Our nuclear power plants are safe,” says Venhart, adding that they are monitored by the International Energy Association. “There is no rational reason for thinking that our nuclear power plants are more dangerous than the French or German.”

Long-term, Austria is aiming to run 100 percent on renewables by 2030. Wind, solar, and hydro power currently account for 77 percent of the country’s power generation. “You cannot be in politics in Austria and be pro-nuclear,” says Patricia Lorenz, an antinuclear campaigner with the environmental group Friends of the Earth Europe. Austria is now agitating to spread its antinuclear message on an EU level. Officials have criticized nuclear power plants not just in Slovakia, but also in other neighboring countries, including the Czech Republic and Hungary. On New Year’s Eve 2021, the European Commission released a proposal which defined nuclear as well as natural gas as “green investments.” In response, Austria launched a legal challenge, calling for the inclusion of the two energy sources to be annulled. “Neither nuclear energy nor fossil gas are green investments,” says Gewesseler. Zwentendorf and Mochovce demonstrate the extremes of Europe’s nuclear power debate. But between those extremes, it’s messy. The EU might have agreed to become the first climate-neutral continent by 2050, but consensus on how that will happen remains elusive. Weish, the Austrian scientist, believes there’s a lot more debating to be done. “The EU needs to have the debate Austria had back in the 1970s,” he says.