Please, in my backyard
A generation ago, protests against proposed nuclear power plants often accomplished their goal—delaying development or increasing construction costs enough to make the project uneconomic. But for sheer tenacity, few anti-nuke rebellions can compare with the one that forced the closure of the Shoreham Nuclear Plant in Long Island's Suffolk County—after it had become operational. With U.S. utilities on the verge of ordering the country's first reactor in decades, now is the time to recall Shoreham's key lesson: A policy of openness and community engagement can dissolve fear and skepticism before they solidify into resistance and resentment. The history of Shoreham is a case study of how not to develop a new nuclear plant. The project began in 1965 when the local utility—Long Island Lighting Co. (LILCO)—proposed building a 540-MW nuclear plant at a cost of $75 million to secure the energy future of Long Island, where demand was rising 10% annually. Suffolk County officials were gung-ho, and a site was selected on Long Island Sound. By the time the plant was permitted and construction had begun in 1973—the original estimated completion date—its projected costs had ballooned to $560 million and the completion date had advanced to 1977. Bad vibes plus bad timingAt this point, LILCO made two blunders that galvanized the opposition. One was to purchase another tract for a proposed second nuclear plant that had succumbed to residents' well-oiled NIMBY protests in 1969. The other was to completely disrespect the locals. Ira Freilicher, a former LILCO vice president who served as the company's chief spokesman and Shoreham strategist, recalls, "We handled them in a more confrontational and patronizing way than we should have. It was arrogance on our part." The soaring costs of Shoreham ($2 billion by the late 1970s) and the 1978 accident at Three Mile Island further incited not just the locals, but all Long Islanders. LILCO found itself out-gunned at every turn. Finally, regulators properly required LILCO to work with county and state governments to develop an evacuation plan—no plan, no operating license. That requirement was the fatal blow to LILCO, which was already exhausted from carrying the project's debt. By the mid-1980s, the price tag for Shoreham had skyrocketed to $5 billion. In February 1983, the Suffolk Legislature declared that the county could not be evacuated in the event of a meltdown. When Shoreham was completed in 1987, LILCO received only a conditional operating license, which limited output to 5% of the plant's capacity. Shoreham operated intermittently over the next two years, accumulating the equivalent of only three full-power days before being shut down permanently in June 1989. PIMBYFederal subsidies and advanced reactor technology may soon foster a nuclear renaissance in the U.S. (see page 36). Concerned about energy security and global warming, 70% of Americans now favor nuclear power (up from 46% in 1995), according to Bisconti Research. A number of states and communities are even offering utilities "please, in my backyard" incentives to build a new nuclear plant—something unthinkable a decade ago:
The Shoreham legacyToday, where the Shoreham nuclear plant once stood are two 50-kW windmills. At their unveiling in January 2005, Richard Kessel, chairman of the Long Island Power Authority (LILCO's successor), said, "We stand in the shadow of a modern-day Stonehenge, a multi-billion-dollar monument to a failed energy policy." To that I say: Shoreham was just the wrong plant in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nuclear power development is at a crossroads today. As we move forward, let's learn from the lessons of history. |
