The episode might never have become public, except a watchdog at the
Union of Concerned Scientists in Washington spotted the cover letter to
a classified report that the company was required to make about the
incident to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. When it came to light
more than a month later, Progress Energy's critics said it proved the
folly of transporting nuclear wastes from place to place. What if it had
been armed terrorists jumping aboard? the critics demanded.
They'd have failed, Progress Energy replied. The inmate, and another
one, were quickly apprehended. The episode only underscored how
well-guarded the trains are, the company said. "The federal government
obviously concurs, or they wouldn't let us continue shipping," a company
spokesman told a Florida newspaper.
Before Sept. 11, that might have been the end of it.
But this was after Sept. 11.
Progress Energy is the only utility in the country that's shipping
nuclear waste. And four weeks ago, still conceding nothing about the
safety of transporting spent-fuel rods on trains, the company announced
that it may end the practice and make the shift to storing nuclear waste
in dry-cask storage containers on-site at the Robinson plant and its
Brunswick plant in Southport, N.C., which also ships spent fuel to
Shearon Harris.
The reason for the change? If they do it--and it's "very likely" they
will, says Rick Kimble, Progress Energy's nuclear communications
manager--it will be a business decision involving licensing issues and
the cost of getting the shipping canisters approved, as they must be
every five years, by the NRC.
But putting those wastes in dry casks on-site is exactly what the
critics, mainly the Durham environmental group N.C. WARN, have been
pushing the company to do for years. "Progress's announcement is a
strong step in the right direction," said Jim Warren, the group's
executive director.
Even if Progress Energy isn't heeding its critics and still thinks
they're wrong, there is implicit in Kimble's answer an acknowledgement
that the NRC may decide the critics are right--that in the new era of
the war on terrorism, there's unnecessary danger in shipping nuclear
material. It also acknowledges a concern the industry has consistently
downplayed: Nuclear power plants may become terrorist targets.
Before the Sept. 11 attacks, the NRC routinely dismissed the chance
that terrorists might pose a threat to the nation's 103 functioning
nuclear power plants as "remote and speculative," which meant that they
weren't going to factor it into their risk-assessment analysis.
As a result, the maximum threat the NRC required utilities to
consider when formulating their plant security plans was a lightly armed
group of saboteurs aided by a single renegade employee inside the plant.
Only after terrorists attacked the World Trade Center in 1993 with a
truck bomb was the "design basis threat," as it's called, amended to
include the possibility that the attackers might use a truck bomb. One
truck bomb.
Now, of course, the threat of a coordinated terrorist attack isn't
remote or speculative; it's all too present and real. And a nuclear
plant's most dangerous target, according to a new study presented in a
Princeton University journal, would be tightly packed pools of spent
nuclear fuel like the ones at the Shearon Harris plant--among the
biggest concentrations of its kind in the country.
The study raises the same issues about spent-fuel pools that N.C.
WARN used in fighting the storage methods at Shearon Harris back in 1999
and 2000--a fight it lost when the NRC rejected all its claims.
Indeed, several of the eight co-authors of the Princeton study are
the same experts N.C. WARN organized, and the Orange Commissioners paid,
trying unsuccessfully to keep Progress Energy from doubling the number
of functioning waste-storage pools at the Harris plant from two to four.
The study, "Reducing the Hazards from Stored Spent Power-Reactor Fuel
in the United States" in the journal "Science and Global Security, "
says that if, somehow, the cooling pools ever lost water and the spent
fuel in them caught fire, an exothermic chain reaction could occur with
catastrophic results that would contaminate much of North Carolina and
kill thousands.
Progress Energy says it's an unproven theory, but even if it's right,
the pools are completely secure, will never lose water, and there are
multiple backup methods for refilling them in case of mishap. A pool
fire, it says, will never cause a catastrophe.
What happens if an airliner loaded with jet fuel is crashed into the
building at Shearon Harris that houses the four waste-storage pools?
Would it be the disaster we could have prevented but didn't?
No, Progress Energy says. Even a loaded jetliner would not destroy
the pools.
"We can protect against anything except acts of war," Kimble, the
company's nuclear spokesman, says.
His comment reflects the official position of the nuclear energy
industry, which is that its plants are designed to withstand
earthquakes, tornadoes and winds up to 300 mph, so they could handle an
airliner, too. They are not designed to withstand attack by a foreign
country armed, say, with nuclear missiles or the latest bunker-busting
bombs. Throughout the Cold War and now, the law makes the protection of
nuclear plants in time of war the responsibility of the federal
government and U.S. armed forces.
"While nuclear plants cannot be guaranteed to be impervious to every
imaginable threat," says the Nuclear Energy Institute, which speaks for
the industry, "commercial nuclear reactors are designed and constructed
with that extremely remote possibility (of an airline crash) in mind."
Former NRC Chairman Richard Meserve, who left office last month, said
in U.S. Senate testimony last year: "It should be recognized that
nuclear power plants are massive structures with thick exterior walls
and interior barriers of reinforced concrete. ... [T]he structures
inherently afford a measure of protection against deliberate aircraft
impacts." In addition, he said, "defense-in-depth measures," including
backup power and pumps, provide "a capability to respond to a variety of
events, including aircraft attack."
The industry's research arm, the Electric Power Research Institute,
published a report in the journal Science in late 2002 that said
a Boeing 767, fully loaded with fuel and flying at 350 mph, could not
penetrate a nuclear reactor containment dome, which is 12 feet thick and
made of steel-reinforced concrete.
The institute's report drew on the results of a prior test by the
Sandia National Laboratory. But Sandia subsequently disclaimed the
institute's conclusions, saying its test results weren't relevant to the
plane crash issue. A study conducted 20 years ago by the Argonne
National Laboratory indicated that the lighter Boeing 707, flying 466
mph, could penetrate a reactor containment dome, N.C. WARN points out.
"Whether a nuclear plant could protect itself against 11 September
scale threats is a great unknown," Dr. Edward Lyman, a nuclear physicist
and scientific director of the Nuclear Control Institute, said in 2001,
shortly after Sept. 11. NCI is a watchdog group in Washington.
This March, Lyman told a U.S. House energy subcommittee that the NRC
was "dragging its heels" in responding to the enhanced threat, and the
nuclear industry is "bitterly resisting" paying for added security.
If the industry can't afford to protect nuclear plants and remain
economically viable, he said, and it wants the taxpayers to protect them
instead, then "Congress should assess how its constituents feel about
using their tax money for this purpose," he said.
Lyman is one of the eight co-authors of the Princeton journal
article, the gist of which is:
We don't know if terrorists can take out the pools. But neither does
the industry. The NRC should figure that out. And if it won't, Congress
should step in.
The 36-page article, plus an accompanying 119 footnotes, is written
in the low-key language of hypothesis and potential consequences, with
lots of equations, air plume dispersion analysis and the like. It
concludes with a set of recommended "possible actions to correct for the
obvious vulnerabilities" of the cooling pools, along with a plea that
the issue be the subject of further analysis by the NRC and "democratic
debate" in public--consistent with security requirements for some
secrecy on the technical details.
The Princeton journal article prompted a letter to NRC Chairman
Meserve from U.S. Rep. David Price, the Chapel Hill Democrat whose
district includes Shearon Harris. Price, after expressing "my continuing
concerns related to potential terrorist threats to nuclear power
plants," cited the article and asked the NRC to respond to it. "I assume
that the NRC will give full consideration to the rationale and
recommendations provided by this study," Price wrote.
In an interview last week, Price said he's awaiting the NRC's
response and is not taking any independent action in Congress. Price has
received $36,650 in campaign contributions from Progress Energy since
1993, making the company one of his biggest corporate supporters.
Margaret Brown, chair of the Orange County Commission, said she was
pleased that the Shearon Harris litigation, funded by Orange taxpayers,
"is coming to fruition" with the Princeton publication and new pressures
on the NRC to act on the waste-pools issue nationally.
It's not at all clear, however, that the NRC's policies will change.
In March, one commission member, Edward McGaffigan, attacked the
article, after which the NRC's research office was directed to produce
"a hard-hitting critique" to undermine it. The critique hasn't been
issued to date.
The battle lines are being drawn, however. In a separate article
written for a New England citizens group, Dr. Gordon Thompson, another
of the Princeton co-authors, says bluntly: "Nuclear power plants and
their spent fuel can be regarded as pre-deployed radiological weapons
that await activation by an enemy."
Thompson, a Clark University research professor and head of the
watchdog Institute for Resource and Security Studies in Cambridge,
Mass., is a longtime critic of densely packed cooling pools. He was the
star witness that N.C. WARN and Orange County tried so hard to get the
NRC to listen to--and Progress Energy fought to block from
testifying--when the issue of the company's two additional pools came to
the agency in 1999-2000.
The NRC did not take any testimony on the subject, listening only to
arguments about whether it should. It then ruled that there was no issue
in the case--that cooling pools were safe and the threat of terrorist
attack too "remote and speculative" to consider.
Recently, Thompson's phrase--"Predeployed Radiological Weapon"--has
been adopted by N.C. WARN's Stan Goff, who used it as the title of his
own analysis, subtitled "Reducing the targetability of Shearon Harris
Nuclear Plant and the risk to the North Carolina public."
Goff, a retired U.S. Army special forces veteran and military trainer
who previously worked for Democracy South, the political reform group,
joined N.C. WARN last year as a security analyst. His analysis builds on
the Princeton thesis: If spent-fuel rods are shifted to dry-cask
storage, Goff argues, the casks themselves, which are made of thick
concrete, should be protected from attack by surrounding them with
earthen berms so they can't be hit by shoulder-fired missiles.
Cooling pools, Goff maintains, are exactly the sort of target
terrorists will try to hit, because in doing so they would be turning
our prized technological strengths against us--in military jargon,
they'd be using an "asymmetrical strategy" to offset a more powerful
enemy's advantage--just as they did by hijacking airliners on Sept. 11,
2001.
The pools at Shearon Harris would be "highly desirable," he says,
because there are four of them--three in use and the fourth approved for
future use--all in the same building.
 |
Courtesy Of
Progress Energy
|
One of
the waste-storage pools at Harris. The racks at the bottom of the
pool hold the fuel-rod assemblies.
|
Progress Energy, in response, says the pools are a most unlikely
target because the building they're in is so well-defended. Combined,
the building walls and the pool walls are as difficult to penetrate with
a weapon--even an airliner--as the containment dome that protects the
nuclear reactor itself, the company says.
Moreover, Kimble argues, it's one thing to fly a jet at high speed
into a skyscraper, because the altitude of the building affords a pilot
maximum control and flight speed. Hitting a low-lying building like the
pool-containment building, or even the reactor containment itself,
entails slowing down and loss of control, not to mention the need to
dodge transmission lines coming in.
The difference, he says, is between the devastation caused by hitting
the World Trade Center towers dead-on and the damage--severe but not
catastrophic--that resulted from the third plane that hit the Pentagon a
little off-target, apparently, and at much lower speed.
It's Progress Energy's position, Kimble says, that terrorists would
not choose to attack a waste-storage building because the chance of
success would be so low, compared to, say, a chemical plant or a stadium
full of fans.
And if they did, he says, the building could withstand it. "The
antis," he says, referring to N.C. WARN, "can tug on emotions. But when
it comes down to the facts, and there's no reason to do it, then why do
it?"
He concedes only that it's "healthy" for watchdog groups to keep an
eye on the NRC, but that ultimately, it's the NRC that must assess the
facts and protect public safety. Progress Energy's critics "don't have
the science to back up" their arguments, he adds. "It's not healthy to
lob grenades of misinformation out there."
What's the science?
The authors of the Princeton study are scientists and engineers with
expertise in nuclear technology. They include, in addition to Lyman and
Thompson: Frank von Hippel, who runs the Program on Science and Global
Security at Princeton; Allison Macfarlane, a researcher at the Center
for International Studies at MIT; Robert Alvarez, now a senior scholar
at the Institute for Policy Studies in Washington, who served as a top
science adviser to the U.S. Department of Energy during the Clinton
administration; and three private consultants working in South Korea,
Germany and New Jersey. (Because Alvarez comes first in the alphabet,
the study is sometimes called "the Alvarez report.")
They make a straightforward argument. Waste-storage pools were never
designed to hold as many fuel rods as they now do. When the pools were
designed, the assumption was that a relatively few fuel-rod assemblies,
straight out of the nuclear reactor core following refueling, would be
immersed for just a few years--until they'd cooled down enough to be
reprocessed or put in dry storage and air-cooled. Federal policy at
first anticipated reprocessing (recycling) the fuel rods. When, in the
1970s, President Carter decided that reprocessing plants in other
nations would allow them to secretly develop nuclear weapons (as North
Korea may have done), he stopped it in the United States and initiated
work on a permanent repository for spent-fuel wastes somewhere in the
country.
The Yucca Mountain site in Nevada, selected last year by President
Bush, is the result of that shift in direction. But the national
repository was supposed to finished by 1998. Instead, the earliest it
could be ready is now 2010, and the nuclear industry says it'll be 2015
at least--if it goes ahead at all.
Meanwhile, however, the fuel-rod assemblies began piling up at every
plant, forcing a change in storage methods. Where initially the fuel
rods were loosely arranged in the pools, with lots of space in between,
gradually they've been packed in tighter and tighter.
Too tight, though, and radioactive fuel--if the water ever drained
out--could go "critical," meaning the same sort of chain reaction that
takes place when they're packed in together in the reactor core.
So the NRC approved what's called "re-racking."
Picture big metal egg crates in a deep pool of water. Originally, the
egg compartments, each one holding a zirconium-clad tube containing 289
fuel rods, had open sides. The reason: Just in case the pools ever did
lost water, air could get to the cladding and serve as a back-up cooling
system.
This was called open-racking.
But as more and more fuel rods went into the pools, and the
zirconium-clad tubes got to within a couple of centimeters of each
other, the air back-up system wasn't enough. So the industry
"re-racked," enclosing the sides of the egg boxes with boron walls
designed to stop a chain reaction from starting (boron absorbs neutrons)
in the absence of water.
As far back as 1979, a study done for the NRC by Sandia National
Laboratory found that, in case of a sudden loss of water, fuel rods
packed so closely together--if they'd been underwater less than a
year--were likely to heat up and burn the zirconium cladding, which had
the potential to set the older fuel in the pool on fire too.
"This would result," the Princeton article summarizes dryly, "in the
airborne release of massive quantities of fission products."
Depending on how long the other fuel rods have been underwater and
how many catch on fire, the authors of the Princeton study say, the
conflagration could dwarf the damage done by the reactor meltdown at
Chernobyl, in the former Soviet Union, in 1986. There, a rural area half
the size of New Jersey was contaminated; 100,000 people were moved out
of it; cancer death rates shot up.
A 1987 study by the Brookhaven National Laboratory, they point out,
tried to model what would happen and concluded that other fuel--in the
pools between a year and two years--would also catch fire. And fuel even
older that than might be at risk once the zirconium cladding has fallen
away and the fuel rods drop to the bottom of the pool, essentially
creating a "bed" of fire below.
The Chernobyl release totaled 2 megacuries of cesium-137, an
especially deadly isotope. The typical waste pool, fully packed,
contains about 35 megacuries, according to the Princeton authors. If
even 10 percent of it were released by a pool fire in an urban area like
ours, look out.
 |
Air-cooled concrete storage containers, each surrounded by earthen
berms, are the proposed alternative to densely-packed cooling
pools.
|
The NRC has never studied the consequences of a pool fire because it
has always regarded the chances of cooling-water loss as so low as to be
a practical impossibility, the authors note. "Now it is necessary," they
say, "to take into account the potentially higher probability that a
terrorist attack could cause a loss of coolant."
In 1997, they add, an NRC-commissioned study estimated that a core
meltdown release of 8 to 80 megacuries of cesium-137 could result in
54,000-143,000 additional cancer deaths, a vast loss of agricultural
land and total economic losses of between $117 billion and $566 billion.
The Princeton authors ask the NRC to consider installing blowers and
sprinkler systems in waste-pool buildings, but its "central"
recommendation is that dense storage--the re-racking with boron--be
discontinued, and that nuclear plants be required to go back to the old
open-rack system.
Within a decade, they argue, nuclear plants should remove
three-fourths of the spent-fuel assemblies in their pools, leaving only
the "hottest" ones, and put the rest into dry casks. The cost to the
industry, they estimate, would be between $3.5 billion and $7 billion,
raising electricity rates on average by between 0.4 and 0.8 percent.
***
The Shearon Harris pools
Most of the nation's nuclear plants have already turned to dry-cask
storage because, even with re-racking, their waste pools are filled to
capacity. Until Yucca Mountain happens, or some other national
repository is established, "you've got two choices, wet storage and dry
storage," as Progress Energy's Kimble says.
But Shearon Harris is an anomaly in the industry, because it was
designed originally to have four reactors, not just one. Though the 1978
accident at Three-Mile Island in Pennsylvania stopped the other three
reactors, the four waste pools had already been built. (No new reactors
have been licensed in the United States since Three-Mile Island.)
That's why two of the Harris pools remained unused until recently,
and why Progress is still able to put the "oldest, coldest" fuel from
its Robinson and Brunswick plants into a Harris pool. It's the only
private utility still shipping nuclear wastes in the United States,
though the military still does it here and it's done widely in Europe
and Asia.
Re-racked for dense packing, Harris has storage space for 20 more
years even if the Robinson-Brunswick shipments continued, Kimble says.
But Harris expects to stay in use longer than that, so rather than run
out of pool space for its own spent fuel, Progress is thinking it could
put dry casks in at the other two plants and buy itself more time for
Harris' wastes.
Since Sept. 11, the NRC has ordered nuclear plants to stop conducting
media tours, but
The Independent was allowed to visit the pool-storage
building in 2000. It's not constructed to the same, 12-foot thickness as
the containment dome around the reactor core, but it is reinforced
concrete, 4-6 feet thick, according to Kimble, and the walls that
surround each of the four pools are also reinforced concrete, up to 8
feet thick, and sit on top of a 12-foot-thick concrete block.
The effect, Kimble says, is containment-like: An airplane, or
missile, would have to break through the exterior walls and keep going
with enough strength to penetrate the pool walls before the stored fuel
rods would be in any jeopardy. Even at that, the pools are 40 feet deep,
and the fuel-rod assemblies only 13 feet tall, so there's a cushion of
time for plant operators to start pumping back-up water before the tubes
would be uncovered, the hottest fuel rods would start heating up, and
the zirconium cladding would ignite, releasing radioactivity into the
building.
The exact specifications of the building are kept secret, for
security purposes, and Kimble declined to say how thick the roof is.
It's the roof, however, that the Princeton authors think could be
compromised in an air attack. The blast from an airliner explosion might
not be sufficient to destroy a pool by itself, they say, but it could
collapse the building into it. Or the turbine engine from a diving
fighter jet might be able to punch through and puncture a pool wall.
And then there's the possibility of an act of war. The Princeton
study notes that back in the 1970s, the German government took
precautions--it was staring at Soviet missiles--and ordered that both
nuclear reactors and waste-storage pools be housed within thick-walled
containment structures.
Later, when its pools were full and it needed to move to off-site
storage, Germany chose to use dry storage in cast-iron casks "stored
inside reinforced-concrete buildings that provide some protection from
missiles."
Substitute earthen berms for concrete buildings, and you have the
N.C. WARN position.
Citizens' hearings
The post-Sept. 11 risks posed by the Shearon Harris nuclear power plant
will be the subject of a "Citizens' Hearing" Saturday, May 31, from 10
a.m. to 3 p.m. at Salem Elementary School, 6116 Old Jenks Road, Apex.
Co-hosts are N.C. WARN and Public Citizen, a national advocacy group.
Speakers will include Robert Alvarez, a co-author of the Princeton
journal article and former senior advisor at the U.S. Department of
Energy, and Arjun Makhijani, president of the Insititute for Energy and
Environmental Research (IEER) in Takoma Park, Md., who has proposed
alternatives to a national waste depository in Yucca Mountain, Nev. For
information, call N.C. WARN at 416-5077.