Lithuanian Archives, Covid-19, and the Search for Archival Sources

The current Covid-19 Crisis challenges our usual ways of conducting research. While the spring term might have gone by without too many impairments, although digitisation and the cancellation of conferences and workshops leaves some marks, by now several researchers face the problem of inaccessible archives. Albeit this also stalls my work, I was lucky to slip through a narrow window of opportunity. While spending the summer in Germany, where infection numbers were at that time considerably low, I was able to profit from Lithuania’s State Archives’ reopening. After brief consultations with my supervisors and our administration it became clear: I had green light to finally dig again into Soviet nuclear documents.

On 12 August I entered for the first time Vilnius. The city was totally new to me, with certainly some socialist influences, but displaying something uniquely new and vibrant. It has a long and proud history, which became ever more important after re-independence during the course of the dissolution of the USSR.

At first, I made myself familiar with the archival opportunities this city offers. Unfortunately, my 10-day-visit did not suffice to exhaust the various archives. The first archive I visited was the Modern State Archive in the North of the city. Despite the fact that they eventually did not have the documents I was searching for, they provided me with a contact at the Archive of Technical Documentation at Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant. This was where I headed next to.

Interestingly, Ignalina is actually a town 50km further south and has no obvious connection to the nuclear power plant. Instead, it was earlier called after its cooling water providing lake Drukshajskaya NPP. Ignalina seems easier.

After a two hour train ride I reached Visaginas. Visaginas was called Sniečkus after a former first secretary of the Lithuanian branch of the Communist Party in Soviet times. It was built to host about 35.000 people, but nowadays only houses 18.000. Visaginas provided the base for people employed at Ignalina NPP and is mostly Russian-speaking. Obviously, the NPP shaped the vibe in Visaginas in many respects.

Taking advice from PhD-colleague Daniele Valisena, I explored the 2-hour way from Visaginas to the power plant walking. It was a very scenic experience and let me soon astray from the main road leading to the plant. It was very sunny and warm. Not many people were around in this somehow eery landscape in the top east corner of Lithuania, close to Latvia’s Daugavpils and Belarus’ Braslaŭ.

I found myself walking through a small Dacha-village called Vishnya (engl. cherry). People were gardening and small-scale farming three kilometres next to a power plant, which hosted the biggest reactors of the world during the 1980s. It was a strange feeling, if you reflect upon a history of incidents and accidents at the plant. From the village I went through a forest towards the plant. Soon I reached a beautiful small cemetery with carefully kept graves. While lake Drukshiai was supposed to be very close to me, I did neither see its waters nor noticed its presence in any other way.

After a thorough fight with mosquitoes over the sovereignty over my legs, arms, and neck, I soon saw the tops of the power plant’s huge transformer station. Given my experiences with Russian security, I was actually expecting someone to stop me, as I slowly but steadily approached the nuclear power plant. But nothing happened. When Lithuania entered the European Union, it had to agree to decommission of the power plant due to the similarity of its reactors with the one which exploded at Chernobyl. More than three quarters of the money for decommissioning came from the European Union, which, together with Lithuania’s turn towards a freer society, changed priorities from secrecy to openness. Soon I reached unhindered the formal entrance of the power plant.

After a short orientation, I entered the Archive of Technical Documentation and spoke with my contact there. Although I was provided with additional valuable literature and information, I was put off until I would be granted formal access by the leadership of the plant. This could not be acquired while I was in Lithuania, but maybe I might get the chance to come back and follow up on this lead in the future.

On my way back I walked past an installation for the storage of low-radiating nuclear waste, with a conveyor belt stemming directly from the main building of the plant. This made me wonder what actually was going on inside and how the progress of the decommissioning was getting along. Opinions are split on this issue.

After my trip to Ignalina I spent the rest of my time searching through files in the Central State Archives. A personal highlight was here the discussion of how to make Ignalina NPP safer in the wake of the aftermath of the Chernobyl catastrophe. It was very fortunate that I was able to visit Lithuania. The trip provided me with a first archival overview, some crucial source documents, and very valuable impressions and photographs. Hopefully, we can soon all go back to our data, sources, and interview partners as we used to do. There is so much more to explore.

Mining, Waste, and the so-called nuclear fuel-cycle

Last Tuesday Nuclearwaters-colleague Andrei Stsiapanau and me have interviewed Dima Litvinov on his experiences in the capacity of Greenpeace representative in Russia. Among other issues, Russian nuclear waste handling during the chaos of the 1990s became our main topic.

While it was in itself an exciting event, two points kept me thinking. First the characteristics of the so-called nuclear fuel cycle and secondly the role of water in it. As Per Högselius has argued, in reality there is no such thing as a fuel cycle – proclamations of the nuclear industry notwithstanding. Instead, we actually have a linear concept. With the mining of uranium it has a clear beginning and with the storage of nuclear waste it has its ending. The actual amount of recycled fuel elements can prolong its lifetime, but they will ultimately end as waste. Dima shared with us his experiences of both the mining and the storage aspect. It became apparent that water stayed a very crucial component in both. Unfortunately, water is often the carrier of radionuclide-emissions in both instances. Whether it is used as cleaning agent in the mining process, or as medium for storage in the case of waste-dumping into the sea.

This proves that water stays crucial in the system of a nuclear power plant – also apart from cooling purposes. If we want to improve nuclear safety, water as this crucial aspect needs to be accounted for in our studies.

Nuclear Waters at the Centre of a Soviet Technocratic Culture Analysis

“In designing the water-graphite reactors used at Chernobyl’, Soviet nuclear engineers chose specific design features that made serious – albeit not catastrophic – accidents all but inevitable.”1

Soviet nuclear power plants in the vast majority of cases depended on water as a necessary and safeguarding coolant. But where should one get enough of it in such an inaccessible and land-locked landscape, encompassing steppes, forests, mountains, deserts, and arable land featuring one of the harshest continental climatic differences between summer and winter in the whole world?

For Soviet technocratic planners, this did not pose an unconquerable obstacle. Over the centuries, the country’s grand rivers, for example the Volga, Don and Dnepr have hosted numerous settlements with different industries and economical endeavours as well as some of the respective area’s biggest population centres. So why not using their immense powers for harnessing a new and even greater power – that of the mirnij atom?

Unsurprisingly, the Soviet civil nuclear programme was one of the most ambitious of the world. Before 1986, the year in which Chernobyl struck, the nuclear industry held grand prospects for further investment and development. Being a country as vast as the USSR, in which 75% of the population lived in the West while 80% of national (mostly fossil) energy resources were located in the Far East, technocratic planners envisioned nuclear power as one way to secure a stable energy supply, especially for industrial hotspots in western Russia and eastern Ukraine.2

Soviet projections in the 1980’s stated nuclear energy would be together with coal the only realistic choice for the future production of energy, leaving hydro power deliberately out of the picture.3 Facing these circumstances, the nuclear inner circle decided to turn a blind eye to possible detrimental consequences to both the natural environment and human populations, in order to reinvigorate an ailing Soviet economy to facilitate the advent of Communism.

In 1979 only 4,5% of the energy mix of the USSR actually derived from atomic electricity production.4 Instead, the country was despite developed hydro power stations fully dependent on fossil fuel and stayed so until her end.5 Economically speaking, Soviet technocrats had mobilised tremendous resources into the development of the nuclear industry in order to further diversify the Soviet energy mix. On the union-level central planners agreed to increase nuclear power production from 16 GWe in 1982 to 90 GWe in 1990 and then even further to 200 GWe in 2000, hence aiming to increase nuclear power output 12,5 times in just 18 years6. In fact, in 1990 prior to her collapse, the Soviet Union had succeeded in installing 38.3 GWe.7 Although falling considerably short of the planned goal, these numbers show how technocratic planners in the Soviet Union succeeded to implement their vision of nuclear future for their country.

But how did they use the water network to their advantage? Rivers, lakes and the sea-shore could be prepared to host nuclear power stations, but each of them had important implications for local stakeholders, such as fisheries, agriculture and local municipalities. It is both clear, that water was on the one hand the limiting factor for the construction of nuclear power plants due to the necessity of sufficient coolant, and on the other an everything connecting trans-systemic agent, which incorporated the nuclear into the Soviet socio-economic utopia. My part of the Nuclearwaters-Project strives to investigate this linkage between Technocratic Culture and water, between central planning ambitions and atomic waterways and between communist historic-materialist ideals and nature’s essence of life. Only by investigating this complex of ideology, culture and material environment scholars will come closer to understanding the Soviet nuclear industry. If we want to judge nuclear safety in Europe’s East, this is necessary.

“Science demands sacrifices.”8

Petrosyants, chairman of the State Committee for the Use of Nuclear Energy in the USSR on 6 May 1986, 10 days after the explosions of reactor 4 at Chernobyl.

1Geist: Political Fallout: The Failure of Emergency Management at Chernobyl’, p. 107.

2Semenov: Nuclear power in the Soviet Union, in: International Atomic Energy Agency Bulletin Vol. 25, No. 2, June 1983, p. 47.

3Medvedev, Z.: The Legacy of Chernobyl, New York a. London 1990, pp. 300-301.

4Margulis: Atomnaya ėnergiya i radiatsionnaya bezopasnost’, Moskva 1983, p. 125.

5CIA: USSR Energy Atlas, Washington a. Springfield 1985, p. 7.

6Vorob’ev et al.: Radiation Safety of Atomic Power Plants in the USSR, in: Atomic Energy (Vol. 54, No.4, April 1983), Luxembourg/ Berlin/ Heidelberg 1983, pp. 290-301, here p. 290.

7 [25.04.2019]). Also IAEA: Nuclear Power Reactors in the World (Reference Data Series No.2, 2018 Edition), Vienna 2018.

8Medwedew, G.: Verbrannte Seelen. Die Katastrophe von Tschernobyl, Munich a. Vienna 1991, p. 222.

Is nuclear power environmentally friendly only in Sweden?

By Anna Storm

27 May 2019 In an essay article in Sweden’s newspaper Dagens Nyheter, Anna Storm, Achim Klüppelberg and Tatiana Kasperski outline how the nuclear future logics today and in the past differ considerably between Sweden, Germany, Russia and Finland. In connection to nuclear power currently being discussed in Sweden as a critical tool to mitigate climate change, the rhetorical question goes: “Is nuclear power environmentally friendly only in Sweden?” The article concludes that the negotiations on what our nuclear future should look like has to be re-politicized in an international context, and also take into account the legacies of radioactive waste which we will leave to future generations. Link to the article (in Swedish).

Remembering Chernobyl’s 33rd Sad Anniversary for New Impulses in Research

By Siegfried Evens and Achim Klüppelberg

The present authors felt it was desirable to show this positive experience in the domain of the radiation safety of nuclear power. This is all the more important in that the view is often expressed that nuclear power is a dangerous branch of industry and a source of harmful effects on the personnel, the population, and the environment. Such unqualified statements cannot bring anything else but actual harm.1

Soviet scholars in the field of radiation safety discussing the Chernobyl-type reactor in 1983.

Today we commemorate the 33rd anniversary of the Chernobyl catastrophe. Since that fateful Friday night on 25-26 April 1986, a lot has happened. The world witnessed the thus far biggest nuclear cataclysm in northern Ukraine. The Soviet Union was unable to mitigate the radioactive consequences of the exploded and burning reactor and was frozen in awe to the unknown danger of the invisible power of the atom. Fingers were pointed very quickly towards the personnel as the quickest scapegoat and indeed, many mistakes and transgressions in regard to Soviet regulations were made. Later on, fingers were pointed towards the several institutions and the insufficient design of the reactor. Nuclear engineers in the West assured the general public that such an accident could not happen on the capitalist side of the Iron Curtain. Nevertheless, since Fukushima-Daiichi in 2011 we know for sure that the organisation of nuclear safety by political structures is not so evident as nuclear enthusiasts might want to portray it.

For us, researchers of the NUCLEARWATERS-project, a day like this reminds us of the possibility to engage in an investigation of nuclear safety from many different angles. Chernobyl might not only teach lessons to nuclear engineers and state ministries, but also to researchers of the social sciences and the humanities.

What in our analysis of nuclear safety has been left out so far? What has been neglected? Have we looked beyond the events? Have we considered the more structural causes of the accident, such as safety culture, political decision-making, or the structural complexity of nuclear technology? Have we dared to look beyond the power plant? To its environment, and the huge amounts of water flowing into the cooling system and tipping the balance between energy production and massive nuclear meltdown? And how can we then contribute and translate that knowledge towards a better nuclear safety’s discourse?

Apart from being a day of memory, it was also a regular day in which about 450 reactors produced electricity worldwide. Chernobyl forces us to remember what can go wrong if nuclear safety is not tackled with the necessary attention.

In this sense, let us use the fatal example of Chernobyl, to put substance into our research in order to contribute to a better discourse on nuclear safety.

1Vorob’ev, E.I./ Il’in, L.A./ Turovskiĭ et al.: Radiation Safety of Atomic Power Plants in the USSR, in: Atomic Energy (Vol. 54, No.4. April 1983), Luxembourg/ Berlin/ Heidelberg 1983, pp. 290-301, here p. 300.