The 2011 disaster at Japan's Fukushima plant led many countries to turn away from nuclear power. But a growing population and rising economy has prompted India to massively expand its nuclear program -- even in the face of technological worries and fervent opposition
By Wieland Wagner
They placed the
photo of the dead man in the entrance of the hut. A lightbulb illuminating his
face makes it look like that of a saint. The bereaved widow has her four
children stand in front of the photo. They have lost their breadwinner, and now
they can only hope that he will continue to somehow feed them even after death.
Opponents of nuclear power in India view him as a martyr and are collecting
donations for the family.
Sahayam Francis
was only 42, and now his picture is displayed everywhere on the straw-roofed
houses of Idinthakarai, a fishing village in the state of Tamil Nadu, on the
southern tip of the Indian subcontinent. It looks like an idyllic place, where
fisherman spread their catches out to dry on the beach and repair their nets
while sitting under palm trees. But it's a deceptive paradise.
A few kilometers
to the southwest, the new Kudankulam Nuclear Power Plant, built with Russian
technology, towers over the haze. In September, the Supreme Court in New Delhi
dismissed a lawsuit filed by opponents of nuclear power who were trying to
block the loading of fuel at the plant. Now the countdown continues, and the
first reactor could be ready for start-up by the end of the year, with the
second one to follow shortly thereafter. The reactors are expected to generate
a total of 2,000 megawatts of electricity to help satisfy some of the rising
economic power's thirst for energy.
On the day of the
accident, Sahayam and his neighbors were protesting against the plant. They had
formed a human chain in the shallow water, the women wearing colorful saris and
the men carrying black flags. Sahayam was standing on a breakwater when a coast
guard plane suddenly made a low pass over the crowd. Sahayam's family says that
he was so startled that he fell headfirst onto the rocks, dying a short time
later.
"They
surrounded us like prisoners," complains S. P. Udayakumar, the 53-year-old
leader of the nationwide People's Movement Against Nuclear Energy. Udayakumar,
who studied political science at American universities, has gathered the
villagers in front of the church in Idinthakarai, where he preaches about the
evils of nuclear power on a daily basis.
Udayakumar says
that millions of people living along the coast could be exposed to radiation if
the government continues to pursue its ambitious nuclear program. He spreads
out his hand to illustrate the shape of the subcontinent. "Here, here and
here," he says. "They want to build nuclear power plants everywhere,
and they'll contaminate our ocean and our fish populations."
Dressed in a white
robe, Udayakumar looks like a cross between a guru and a guerilla leader. He
and several hundred of his fellow activists risk arrest on charges of agitation
and other alleged offences.
Taking Risks to
Satisfy Demand
Were any lessons
learned from Fukushima? What about phasing out nuclear power? The Japanese
reactor disaster in March 2011 did little more than briefly stun India's
government. Now it is pressing forward with its plans to expand nuclear energy,
often against fierce resistance.
The new Kudankulam
power plant is intended as only one stage in India's program. Between now and
2032, the government plans to expand the country's nuclear capacity from 4,400
to roughly 63,000 megawatts.
By 2050, India
even expects to satisfy a quarter of its electricity demands with nuclear
energy. Today, about 20 reactors generate roughly 4 percent of India's
electricity, but the country plans to double its nuclear energy capacity in the
next five years alone. In doing so, the Indians will rely on particularly
controversial reactor types. To make matters worse, many doubt that India --
with its bizarre infrastructure and often chaotic organization -- can keep the
technology under control.
Still, the nation
of 1.2 billion urgently needs energy, as became glaringly evident last summer
when large sections of the country went without power for days and more than
600 million people suffered in the heat without electricity. Blackouts are a
common occurrence, and the lights go out, air-conditioners stop running and
elevators get stuck every day even in the capital city of New Delhi.
Often
inefficiently operated coal-fired power plants and chronic corruption are to
blame for India's disastrous power supply. In many states, for example, local
politicians illegally tap electricity from the grid and then secure votes by
supplying
households with
free power. In addition, the central and local governments are constantly
jostling over how energy is allocated.
Given these
circumstances, India's business community, in particular, views nuclear power
as a surefire way to stimulate growth. Impatient backers of nuclear energy even
want to see controversial reactors placed directly under the control of the
military.
A Symbol of Independence
Kudankulam is
already practically under a state of martial law. Journalists who travel to the
area are followed and sometimes arrested. Fishermen in Idinthakarai claim that
police officers and thugs in civilian clothes recently combed the village for
Udayakumar and other activists, albeit unsuccessfully. Before the frustrated
intruders left, say villagers, they urinated in the church and desecrated a
statue of the Virgin Mary. As evidence, one of the nuclear-power opponents
holds up the statue's severed head.
Jawaharlal Nehru,
the country's legendary first prime minister (1947-1964), promoted nuclear
development. "We must develop this atomic energy quite apart from
war," he insisted, though he added that India could "use it for other
purposes" if compelled. Ever since, it has been viewed as a symbol of
independence, making a phase-out inconceivable for planners in New Delhi.
Indian reactors
supplied the plutonium for the country's first nuclear test in 1974, a decade
after China detonated its first nuclear bomb. In 1998, the entire nation celebrated
further denotations, which gave India a permanent place among nuclear powers.
Military leaders named their project "Shakti," the Sanskrit word for
"strength." Soon afterwards, Pakistan, India's nemesis to the north,
detonated its own nuclear bombs.
American, French,
Russian and Japanese companies all want to develop the subcontinent as a market
for nuclear power plants. Since the Fukushima disaster, they have been eagerly
looking toward India -- because they've been having more trouble selling their technologies
at home.
India currently
needs foreign uranium to power its reactors. In the long term, however, it
hopes to free itself from foreign sources by developing what it needs to
complete the full nuclear-reprocessing cycle.
Insufficient
Expertise
To this end,
India's planners are clinging to questionable technologies, such as fast
breeder reactors operated with plutonium as well as ones that use thorium.
Germany, by comparison, abandoned a similar test plant in the late 1980s
because it was too expensive and prone to failure.
But how is India,
a developing country, supposed to master a technology that even proved too much
for a perfectionist, industrialized nation like Japan to keep under control?
Indeed, there are
already growing doubts about the safety of Indian nuclear plants. In August,
the country's general accounting office released a devastating critique of the
domestic nuclear regulatory agency, noting that more than half of inspection
reports were submitted late and that a number of inspections were never even
performed.
The government
intends to set up a new, independent monitoring agency. But nuclear opponents
fear that even this agency could devolve into a vicarious agent of the nuclear
lobby.
Arundhati Roy, the
novelist and political activist, says that the government lacks the know-how
needed to safely operate nuclear power plants. "The Indian government has
shown itself incapable of even being able to dispose of day to day garbage, let
alone industrial effluent or urban sewage," she scoffed in a message of
solidarity to opponents of the plant in Kudankulam. "How does it dare to
say that it knows how to deal with nuclear waste?"
Though she might
sound rhetorical, Roy is merely describing the sad reality of those living near
the power plant. In fact, there are even piles of garbage in front of the local
police station. Likewise, the Nuclear Power Corporation of India, the
state-owned company that operates Kudankulam and other reactors, has yet to
present a plan for how to permanently dispose of nuclear waste.
However, India's
parliament has passed a compensation law that obligates the operators of
nuclear power plants and their suppliers to compensate victims should there be
a reactor disaster. This is one reason why foreign companies are currently
holding off on signing agreements to deliver new reactors to India.
The ongoing
struggle over Kudankulam should also dampen the nuclear lobby's enthusiasm. The
original contract for the project was signed in 1988 by former Indian Prime
Minister Rajiv Gandhi and then-Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev.
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