France and Germany lead opposing camps

French leaders see viable power source, while Germans argue it’s too risky and costly

FESSENHEIM, France — When President Emmanuel Macron announced the revival of nuclear energy in an address to the nation last month, residents of a small town in eastern France initially thought they had misheard him.

“For the first time in decades,” Macron said, France “will relaunch the construction of nuclear reactors.”

Fessenheim had just begun to come to terms with the closure of its nuclear plant last year, in what the government had said was a “first step” in a “rebalancing” of energy sources. But while Macron remains committed to increasing investments in wind and solar energy, and to putting an end to the burning of coal, his remarks in November confirmed France isn’t giving up on nuclear technology, its primary source of energy.

France is behind only the U.S. in the number of operational nuclear reactors, and it is first in the world in its reliance on nuclear energy. A prior plan to reduce that reliance, so no more than half of France’s electricity comes from nuclear power by 2035, is in doubt.

Macron’s government argues investments in nuclear power will allow France to keep energy costs in check, control its own supply and meet its climate goals. France is leading a group of mostly central and eastern European countries that are pushing the European Union to add modern nuclear energy to a list of “environmentally sustainable economic activities.”

In Fessenheim, that has sparked hope that the town — where the power plant supported more than 2,000 jobs — may get a second chance. “We don’t want to be the sacrificed and forgotten ones,” said Mayor Claude Bender, who welcomed Macron’s speech as a “positive surprise.”

The president of the surrounding Alsace region, Frédéric Bierry, has urged Macron to consider Fessenheim as a possible future site, calling the old plant’s closure a “financial,” “social” and “economic” scandal in the face of a warming climate.

But one of the biggest obstacles — for Fessenheim and for Macron’s broader plans — lies about half a mile to the east of the town’s old nuclear plant. That’s where France ends and Germany begins.

The new German economy and climate minister, Green Party member Robert Habeck, was among the politicians who signed a statement celebrating the closure of the Fessenheim plant.

The German government has argued that nuclear plants are too risky, and too slow and costly to build, to be a solution to the climate crisis.

Germany’s outlook is influenced by nuclear accidents, such as the 2011 Fukushima meltdown in Japan. And Berlin points to reports like one this past week, of cracks in the pipes at a French nuclear reactor, as evidence that plant safety remains a problem.

Germany is among a group of skeptics, including Denmark and Austria, that wants Europe to shut down its remaining nuclear plants and that fiercely oppose a climate-friendly designation for nuclear power, which would signal to green investors that nuclear energy is worthy of financing. The controversy may come to a head within days, with the European Commission expected to make a decision just before its Christmas break.

Perhaps no place symbolizes European divisions on nuclear energy more than Fessenheim.

The 1,800-megawatt nuclear power station here was built in the 1970s — a gigantic white block with two towering reactor-containment buildings, rising from behind a forest outside the town. On the French side of the border, it was a source of pride, and of economic benefits.

The power plant was by far the biggest employer in the area. And taxes from the plant helped subsidize the development of the town, including sports fields, schools and a shopping center.

At its peak, Fessenheim “had everything,” said resident Laurent Schwein, who noted that his family’s restaurant had to be repeatedly expanded to accommodate the surge in residents and visitors. Schwein said locals weren’t concerned about the power plant’s safety — even its location near earthquake-prone seismic faults.

But on the other side of the border, the region near Fessenheim has long been part of Germany’s anti-nuclear movement. When a radioactive cloud rose from the Chernobyl plant in 1986 and moved toward Western Europe, Fessenheim quickly became a rallying point for West German activists.

The activists raised alarms every time there were reports of safety issues at the plant: cracks in a reactor cover, a steam leak that injured workers, internal flooding that led to an emergency shutdown. They worried about a Swiss study that determined that the seismic risks in the region had been underestimated.

The Fukushima disaster, triggered in part by an earthquake, compounded concerns. In the months after Fukushima, the German government decided to permanently close nearly half its nuclear plants and limit the years of operation of the rest.

In France, the response was more muted.