In April 2023, the massive cooling towers at Germany’s last nuclear power stations fell silent. After decades of heated debate, bitter protests, and political twists, EAR 2 and two other reactors were permanently decommissioned. They had once powered more than 3 million homes.
The moment was more than symbolic. Germany, Europe’s industrial heavyweight, had walked away from nuclear energy at the peak of a global energy crisis. Just over a year earlier, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine had sent natural gas prices soaring, throttled power grids, and forced Europe into an uncomfortable reckoning: how do you keep the lights on without compromising your values?
Germany’s answer? Close the nukes. Burn more coal. Import more French nuclear power.
To many outside observers, it seemed like madness. But to understand this decision, you have to understand something deeper. Something not just about energy… but about identity, history, and a deep distrust of centralized power.
The Long Shadow of the Atom
Germany’s love-hate relationship with nuclear energy began before it even had a nuclear reactor. In 1957, the Windscale Fire in the United Kingdom released radioactive isotopes across Europe. The British government quietly destroyed reports, censored findings, and assured the public it was under control. It wasn’t.
The fallout drifted silently across Western Europe. In Germany, memories of war-era authoritarianism were still fresh. And this was the exact kind of elite secrecy many Germans had come to fear.
When Germany’s first reactor fired up in 1961, skepticism had already taken root.
By the 1970s, it exploded.
Wine Growers, Riot Police, and the Village of Wyhl
In 1975, in the peaceful, wine-producing town of Wyhl, a nuclear power plant was proposed. Locals were not having it. Farmers, students, and wine growers occupied the site a day after construction began. Riot police responded with force.
The images—mud-covered protesters dragged away—went viral in the pre-digital age. Just a week later, 30,000 protesters occupied Wyhl, and the project was scrapped.
It was the first big win for the anti-nuclear movement. But it wouldn’t be the last.
Three Mile Island (1979), Chernobyl (1986), and eventually Fukushima (2011) became milestones in an expanding campaign against nuclear power. Each event wasn’t just seen as a technological failure—it was interpreted as a moral one.
And in Germany, each crisis added fuel to the fire.
A Political Machine Called the Greens
By 1980, the anti-nuclear protests had become institutionalized with the creation of Die Grünen—The Green Party. Formed from an alliance of environmentalists, pacifists, and anti-nuclear activists, they became a voice of radical change in German politics.
By 1983, the Greens entered the Bundestag. And in 1998, they formed a coalition government with the Social Democrats. Under this coalition, the “nuclear consensus” was signed in 2000—committing Germany to phase out all nuclear energy.
It was a huge win. But not everyone was on board.
Angela Merkel’s conservative CDU party reversed course in 2010, extending the lifespans of nuclear plants. That decision unraveled within a year.
Fukushima and the Point of No Return
In March 2011, an earthquake and tsunami devastated Japan’s Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant. Images of exploding reactors and mass evacuations terrified the world. But in Germany, it struck a nerve like nowhere else.
Merkel, a trained physicist and longtime supporter of nuclear power, made an abrupt U-turn. Within months, Germany passed legislation to close all nuclear plants by 2022.
The decision wasn’t just political—it reflected public sentiment. Polls showed over 80% of Germans supported the shutdown. The risk, they believed, simply wasn’t worth it.
By April 15th, 2023, Germany’s final reactors were disconnected from the grid.
Nuclear Waste, Castor Casks, and Salt Domes
While fears of accidents dominated headlines, nuclear waste fueled long-term opposition.
A single 1,000-megawatt nuclear plant creates about 27 tons of high-level radioactive waste annually. It has to be isolated for tens of thousands of years. And while 97% of nuclear fuel can be recycled, only a fraction actually is—thanks to high costs and public resistance.
Germany’s solution? Store it in Castor Casks—massive 100-ton steel and iron containers, often shipped to facilities like Gorleben, a salt-dome site in Lower Saxony.
But transporting that waste became a battleground. Activists blocked railways. Sit-ins turned deadly. One young man was killed when a train ran over his leg. The waste, still lacking a final disposal site, now sits in temporary storage, waiting for a safer answer.
A Skeptical Society
Germany’s rejection of nuclear power can’t be separated from its postwar psychology.
After the collapse of the Nazi regime, trust in centralized authority eroded. Nuclear energy, with its secrecy, corporate lobbying, and connections to weapons programs, was never going to be easy to sell.
Scandals like the Klaus Traube affair—where a nuclear insider turned whistleblower was illegally surveilled—only deepened public suspicion.
When the UK’s Windscale disaster cover-up was revealed decades later, Germans saw it as confirmation: even democratic governments can’t be trusted to manage nuclear technology safely.
Energiewende – The Energy Turnaround
Germany’s anti-nuclear stance gave rise to something extraordinary: the Energiewende—a bold national project to shift toward renewable energy.
Launched in 2010, the plan aimed to cut emissions by 95% by 2050 and get 60% of energy from renewables. It put citizens—not corporations—at the heart of energy production.
The Renewable Energy Act of 2000 guaranteed fixed rates for wind and solar power, sparking a boom in citizen-owned energy infrastructure. By 2023, over 50% of Germany’s electricity came from renewables.
But there were downsides. The price tag? Around €160 billion between 2013 and 2019. German households now pay some of the highest electricity bills in Europe. And opposition to new wind farms has been growing, with over 660 citizen initiatives pushing back.
The Coal and Gas Comeback
Despite its green ambitions, Germany still burns more coal than any other country in the EU. In 2022, a third of the country’s electricity came from coal—up from the previous year.
Lignite, or brown coal, continues to fuel aging power plants, especially in the former East. Even as hard coal mining ended in 2018, local lignite mines filled the gap.
And then there’s natural gas. For decades, Germany was deeply dependent on Russian pipelines. By 2021, over half of Germany’s gas came from Russia. Then came the war in Ukraine. Prices spiked. The Nord Stream pipeline was sabotaged. And Germany scrambled to find alternatives—turning to LNG from Norway, the U.S., and the Netherlands.
But it wasn’t enough. As gas dwindled, coal surged back. The Greens, now in government, reluctantly endorsed the move. The optics? Awful. The reality? Necessary.
A Nuclear Revival?
Germany’s energy crisis has triggered a quiet shift in public opinion.
67% of Germans now support nuclear power to meet climate goals. The math makes sense: restarting eight reactors could add over 85 terawatt-hours per year—enough to power 24 million homes and cut 80 million tons of CO₂ annually.
Costs are competitive too. Nuclear energy in Germany is estimated at just €25 per megawatt-hour—cheaper than gas or coal.
But there’s a catch: public trust, legal hurdles, and decades of policy must be reversed. The Atomic Energy Act would need to be amended. Staff and fuel resupplied. Infrastructure upgraded.
Even then, radioactive waste remains a problem. A final disposal solution may not exist until after 2046, and it’s expected to cost over €5 billion.
What Now?
Germany’s energy debate is no longer about a single technology. It’s about values. Autonomy. Safety. Climate leadership.
Nuclear power offers a low-carbon bridge, but it clashes with Germany’s long-standing fears of centralized control and technological elitism. Renewables are cleaner, but face limitations—especially when the sun doesn’t shine, or the wind doesn’t blow.
Storage remains Germany’s biggest bottleneck. Without it, the country risks falling back on fossil fuels in times of crisis.
Germany has shown the world how to lead on renewables. The question now is: will it allow nuclear energy to be part of that leadership?
Because in a world racing against climate change, ideology might need to give way to pragmatism.
FAQs
Why did Germany shut down its nuclear reactors?
Due to decades of anti-nuclear activism, public distrust, historical trauma, and major disasters like Chernobyl and Fukushima, Germany legislated a full phase-out of nuclear energy, finalized in 2023.
What is Energiewende?
Energiewende, or “Energy Turnaround,” is Germany’s strategy to transition to renewable energy, reduce emissions, and phase out nuclear and fossil fuels.
What’s wrong with nuclear energy?
Critics cite risks of accidents, radioactive waste, and historical cover-ups. Supporters argue it’s clean, reliable, and essential for reducing carbon emissions.
Is Germany still burning coal?
Yes. Coal accounted for about a third of electricity generation in 2022, a reversal driven by the energy crisis following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
Could Germany bring nuclear power back?
It’s possible. Public opinion is shifting, and some reactors could be restarted. But legal, political, and logistical obstacles remain.
